Lone Wolf's Lady

by Beverly Barton

  Rising to her feet, she returned to her car, reached inside and removed her purse from the floorboard. She scrambled around inside until she found her cellular phone, then jerked it out, dialed the number for Montrose and waited.

  “Montrose,” he said. “Luke McClendon.”

  “Luke!”

  “Deanna? What’s wrong? You sound odd.”

  “I—I’ve had a little accident. Could you come and get me?”

  “What sort of accident? Where? I thought you were over at Patsy Ruth’s.”

  “I’m on the road about halfway between the Circle A and Montrose,” Deanna said.

  “What the hell are you—”

  “I’ll explain everything,” she said. “Just come get me. Please.”

  “Have you had car trouble?” he asked.

  “Yes, something like that.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  “Dammit, Deanna, why didn’t you tell me you’d had a wreck?” He grabbed her shoulders, then quickly ran his hands over her body, checking for injuries.

  “I’m all right. I was able to stop my car before it hit the tree.”

  “How the hell did you lose control of the car like that?” He cradled her chin in his big hand. “Did an armadillo run out in front of you?”

  “No.” She shook her head negatively. “I had another memory flashback and for a couple of seconds I almost lost consciousness.”

  “Oh, God,” Luke groaned. “What are you doing on this back road? Patsy Ruth’s house is in the opposite direction.”

  “I...uh...I didn’t go to Patsy Ruth’s. I went to the Circle A.”

  Luke cursed, his voice loud, his tone sharp. “Why did you do that? Haven’t you got sense enough to know you’re in danger over there? Those people may be your family, but—”

  Deanna placed her hand over Luke’s mouth, silencing him. He glared at her, his green eyes smoldering.

  “Hush. Please. I know all the reasons I shouldn’t have gone to the Circle A. But I had one very good reason for going.”

  Deanna eased her hand away from Luke’s mouth, then tenderly caressed his cheek. “I was sure that if I could make myself go back to the stables—”

  Luke gasped. “Ah, babe, you didn’t.”

  “I had to,” she said. “And I’m glad I did. I know now that my whole family—mother, Junior, Benita and Eddie—were all there that night. They all know what really happened. Every one of them knows who killed Daddy.”

  “Are you sure?” Luke asked.

  “Yes, I’m sure. And I’m sure of something else.”

  He stared at her quizzically. She gripped his shoulder. “I know that Eddie is the one who tried to kill you. He as much as admitted it to me.”

  “I’m not surprised. Eddie has been the Atchley henchman for years, hasn’t he?” A cold, angry expression crossed Luke’s face.

  Deanna shuddered. “What are you not telling me?”

  “Your old man was the one who used that whip on me,” Luke said. “But it was Eddie who helped him catch me and tie me to the tree. And it was Eddie who later dumped me in the ditch and spit on me.”

  “Oh, Luke.”

  “Junior was with them, but he just sat on his horse and watched. I had the strangest feeling that Junior almost felt sorry for me.”

  “Junior was afraid of Daddy. He never would have crossed him. And he wouldn’t betray Mother, either.”

  “So, nobody’s going to admit the truth, not even Junior or Benita,” Luke said. “If you don’t remember what happened to your father, we’ll never know who killed him.”

  “I’m remembering more and more.” She clasped his forearms. “I’m so close—so very close.”

  “And when you do remember, will you go to Tyler and tell him the truth, even if it means he’ll have to arrest someone in your family?”

  “You still doubt me, don’t you?”

  “Family loyalty is a powerful thing.”

  She wanted to tell Luke that her only loyalty was to him. That if he would let it happen, he would be her family and she his.

  “Whatever happens, I intend to tell the truth—no matter who Daddy’s real killer is.”

  Luke grabbed her arm. “Come on. Let’s go. I’ll call a tow truck to get your car out of this field and bring it back to Montrose.”

  Deanna had persuaded Luke to let her tag along while he rode out to check on the new calves. Springtime was birthing time on the ranch. They talked very little as they covered mile after mile. But just being with Luke was enough. Somehow she felt safe with him, as if nothing and no one could ever harm her as long as he was near.

  The day drew to a close. Evening came to Montrose. in a warm, humid, unsettling haze. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Lightning streaked the far horizon. They were miles from the ranch house when the first raindrops fell, like giant crystal balls that melted upon impact.

  “Looks like we’re in for a heavy downpour,” Luke said.

  “We sure could use the rain,” Deanna commented, keeping their conversation on mundane matters, as Luke had done all afternoon.

  About two miles from the ranch house, the bottom fell out, sending a flood over the dry earth. Luke eased the truck to a halt and killed the motor.

  “I can’t see two feet in front of me,” he said. “Best we wait it out here. You don’t need to be in another wreck today.”

  “Kizzie won’t be worried, will she?”

  “She’ll know we’ve stopped somewhere until the worst of this storm passes over.” He glanced at Deanna. “It’s going to get warm in here, with the windows up and the air conditioning off.”

  “I’ll be all right,” she told him.

  The wind howled as it whipped the rain across the truck in heavy rivulets. Lightning flashed from the gray evening sky to the earth below, followed by explosive thunderclaps.

  Luke watched Deanna, his eyes hooded and his expression questioning. Perspiration damped her hair, curling it about her face. Moisture coated her blouse, sticking it to her skin in various spots, the most obvious, across her pebble-hard nipples. She was the most beautiful woman on earth. And the sexiest. When his body tightened, he silently cursed himself for his lack of control.

  Deanna leaned her head back and rested it on the cushioned leather. She wiped the sweat from her face with her fingertips.

  “I love you, Luke,” she said quietly, calmly, her voice a mere whisper. “I’ve never loved anyone else. And I haven’t had another lover.”

  She felt the tension in his big body, saw the disbelief in his eyes and heard the sharpness of his indrawn breath.

  “It’s been fifteen years,” he said. “I certainly haven’t been celibate. Not since I came home from Huntsville. Why the hell should I believe that you have?”

  “Because it’s the truth.”

  Studying her intently, he realized she wasn’t lying to him. Not about this. But why? Why would a beautiful, desirable, young woman remain celibate for fifteen years?

  “Where did you go when you left Stone Creek, after my trial?” he asked. “There wasn’t a day I spent in Huntsville that I didn’t wonder where you were, what you were doing, who you were doing it with.”

  Deanna closed her eyes and sighed, absorbing Luke’s pain inside her, like a sponge soaking up water. Since the night of the barbecue, the night she had gone to Luke and asked for his help, she had known this moment would come. She had to share her tormented past with him. If anyone on earth had a right to know about her five years in a mental hospital, Luke McClendon did.

  Only recently had the memories of those first horrible months at Millones returned to her. The birth of her stillborn son. The voices inside her head. The hallucinations. The tortured dreams. The drugs that numbed her senses. And the long, endless nights she had wept into her pillow, calling quietly for Luke. But Luke never came. No one came to rescue her from hell.

  “I went to California,” she said.

  “California? Why did you go to California?”

/>   “Mother took me there.”

  “I don’t understand,” he said. “Why did—”

  Deanna opened her eyes and looked at Luke. “I suffered a complete nervous breakdown after I testified about what happened that night,” she said, her voice calm and controlled. “Only in the past few weeks have I regained the memory of the months that followed your trial.”

  “You had a breakdown?”

  “Mother didn’t want anyone to know that her only daughter was crazy as a betsy bug.” Deanna laughed, the sound a hollow, mirthless cry. “Dr. Penson found a private clinic in California. The place was very expensive, very exclusive and totally secluded.”

  Luke stared at her, stunned by her revelation. Not once had he ever considered the possibility that Deanna had been mentally ill. He lifted his arm, spread it out across the back of the seat and hesitantly touched her shoulder.

  She glanced at his fingers where they rubbed a circle around the material that covered her damp shoulder. “The day the jury found you guilty of manslaughter, I was on a plane to California. I didn’t know where I was or what was happening. I kept asking for you, but no one would tell me why you wouldn’t come to me. Dr. Penson had given me a shot to calm me and I kept drifting in and out of sleep. Mother—Mother told me that everything was going to be all right.”

  Luke’s body tensed, every muscle tight with rage. “You were in this mental hospital when you lost our baby?”

  “Yes.” Her eyes were dry; her voice was steady and unemotional, as if she were talking about someone other than herself. “I think the staff there believed it was for the best. After all, I was considered totally incompetent and...My mother had given them instructions that when the child was born, he was to be given—” Deanna’s voice broke then, and she looked away, the heartache of her loss returning to her. “Even in my condition—mentally sick and spaced out on medication—I wanted my baby. Your baby.”

  “How long did you stay in this place?” Luke asked, inching his fingers up Deanna’s shoulder.

  When she turned to face him again, he clasped the back of her neck in his big hand. “I stayed four years, ten months and six days at Millones. And when I left, I was sane. I was well and stronger than I’d ever been in my life. I thought I could find you and tell you what had happened and we could rebuild our lives. But when I learned that you’d been sent to prison, I realized that I couldn’t return to Stone Creek.”

  “During the five years I spent in Huntsville, you were in a mental hospital,” Luke said, as if he had to voice the truth aloud in order to believe it. “Every damn day I spent in that place, I pictured you enjoying yourself, laughing behind my back, going on with your life as if I’d never existed.”

  “I had no life. Not for five years. And when I was released from Millones, I struggled to put the past behind me, to build a new life for myself. I went to college. I got a teaching position in Jackson. I bought a house and a car. I made friends. But...there were no men, not even one man. I was a wounded, imperfect woman, who had betrayed the man she loved, had lost a child and spent five years in a mental institution. Don’t you see? Can’t you understand that just staying sane and in control was a full-time job. I’ve lived the past ten years trying to stay strong, trying to become totally independent. And then several months ago, the dreams started again. And the flashbacks. And I knew that I had to come home and face what had happened the night Daddy was killed. I had to face you.”

  Luke tightened his hold on her neck. She waited breathlessly for his response. He just stared at her for a long, long time. And then he pulled her into his arms and held her. Neither of them said anything.

  The rain continued its bombardment and the wind its merciless beating. And there in the hot, damp confinement of Luke’s old truck, the hard, cold, impenetrable shield around his heart cracked. The light of truth and love seeped into the those small crevices, obliterating the dark anger and hatred that had grown so powerful inside him.

  “I hated being imprisoned,” Luke said, his lips against her neck. “I was a tough kid, but I didn’t have the vaguest idea of what it would take to survive in Huntsville.”

  Deanna held him close, her hands soothing the tense muscles in his back. “I’m so sorry, Luke. I’m sorry that I was so weak that I couldn’t stand up to my mother. If only I’d been stronger, I wouldn’t have lost my memory and I wouldn’t—”

  He covered her lips with his, silencing her self-condemnation. The kiss was tender beyond anything she’d ever known. Sweet and soft and loving. She responded to his gentle assault, returning the kiss, accepting the moment for what it was. Regret. Sorrow. Longing for what could never be again. Lost youth. Lost love.

  Ending the kiss, Luke breathed deeply, then rested his forehead against hers. “I’ve been so hard on you, babe. I punished you for crimes you never committed.”

  “I understood why you wanted revenge,” she said. “Why you needed to hurt me. Humiliate me. I had betrayed you. I deserved your hatred and your anger.”

  “No, you didn’t.” He cupped her face in his hands. “If only I’d known that you’ve suffered as much—maybe more—than I have. All those years ago, I never realized how fragile you were. It never occurred to me that you’d had a nervous breakdown.”

  “I lost everything,” she breathed the words against his lips. “You. Our baby. My family. I had nothing except those four walls surrounding me. And the pitiful looks from the nurses. And the drugs the doctors ordered to keep me calm and quiet.”

  Luke hugged her to him fiercely, not wanting to hear another word about her days at the mental hospital and yet knowing that eventually he would need to hear it all. She clung to him, allowing him to comfort her, to hold her close. He thought he had experienced all the pain that existed, that nothing could touch his heart, not ever again. But he’d been wrong. Learning about Deanna’s imprisonment, her days of torment hurt him as nothing—not even her betrayal—ever had. If he’d been a man instead of an insecure, angry boy, he might have been able to save her. But he’d been young and headstrong and lost in his own grief.

  “If I could go back and do it over again...” he murmured.

  “We can never go back.” Deanna lifted her head and looked deeply into his eyes. Moss green and moist. Eyes that revealed his thoughts. His innermost sorrows. “Once we...after I regain the complete memory of the night Daddy was killed and I clear your name, then we won’t ever have to look back again. We’ll both be free to move ahead, to have a future worth living.”

  “I don’t think I can ever forget those years I spent in Huntsville,” Luke said. “You don’t really think you can forget that you spent nearly five years in a mental hospital, do you?”

  “I’ll never forget,” she admitted. “But I can let go. I can stop holding on to the pain and the regrets. I can stop living in a world of if onlys. And so can you, Luke. If you can forgive me...if you can—”

  “I never thought I could.” He kissed her forehead, her cheeks and then her lips. “I thought I’d hate you forever, that I’d never forgive you for betraying me, but...” he hesitated briefly, then kissed her again, with tender passion. “I can forgive you. Knowing now that you suffered so terribly makes me ashamed that I...God, help us! Deanna, can you ever forgive me for the way I’ve treated you?”

  “There’s nothing to forgive.” She rested her head on his shoulder and eased her arm around his waist. “I would have done anything...paid any price to save you from yourself.”

  “Deanna?” He gently stroked her cheek with his big, callused fingers.

  “What?” She looked up at him.

  “Will you let me make love to you?” he asked, his voice husky and thick. “I want to take you back to the cottage and spend all night loving you.”

  “Make love to me the way you used to,” she told him. “The way you did when you loved me.”

  “Ah, babe.”

  His lips covered hers, gently at first, his thoughts solely of her. How fragile Deanna was. How gre
atly she had suffered. How deeply he had wounded her with his hatred and anger. But when she responded so fervently, her tongue seeking his, her moans enticing, he deepened the kiss. The desire curling inside him like hot smoke encouraged him to act, not think, to take and give with mindless abandon. Her hands sought him, clung to him, caressed him. Impassioned to the point of madness, she gave herself over to the joy of being pleasured by the man she loved. The man who had forgiven her.

  When Deanna popped open the pearl snaps on Luke’s shirt and sought the heat of his body, he grabbed her fondling hands and brought them to his lips.

  “We’ve got to stop. Now, Deanna,” he said, his breathing labored. “If we don’t I’m going to take you here in the truck.”

  “Don’t stop.”

  “But Deanna—”

  She planted a quick kiss on his mouth. “I don’t want you to stop.”

  “But I wanted this time to be really special. Back at the cottage we could—”

  She kissed him again. “We can go back to the cottage later and take all night. But right now, I don’t want to wait. Do you?”

  “Hell, no!” The weak dam of his control burst, releasing the full force of his need.

  With clumsy haste, they undressed, all the while kissing and touching and moaning. Urgent to mate again in that old sweet way that young lovers come together, Deanna and Luke allowed fifteen years to melt away like snow in the warm springtime sun. There had been no betrayal, no nervous breakdown, no manslaughter sentence. She was seventeen again and untouched by pain and sorrow. And he was twenty again, a boy in love, a boy on the verge of self-acceptance.

  As their lips devoured, their bodies meshed together, perspiration coating their flesh. Luke’s mouth played with her nipples, eliciting a cry of pleasure from Deanna. She bucked up, her hips rising to meet the first powerful thrust of his big body.

  “Oh, Luke. Love me. Love me.”

  And he did. With the overwhelming need that could not be appeased with less than her complete fulfilment, Luke made love to her with feverish passion.