by Diana Palmer
She lay in his arms afterward, tears running helplessly down her cheeks while he smoked a cigarette and absently smoothed her disheveled hair. She was still trembling in the aftermath.
“Are you all right, little one?” he asked gently.
“Yes.” She laid her wet cheek against his shoulder. “I didn’t know,” she stammered.
“It’s different, every time,” he replied quietly. “But sometimes there’s a level of pleasure that you can only experience with one certain person.” His lips brushed her forehead with breathless tenderness. “It helps if you’re in love with them.”
“I suppose you couldn’t help but know that,” she said, her eyes faintly sad. “I always did wear my heart on my sleeve.”
He nuzzled her face until she lifted it to his quiet, vivid blue eyes. “I love you,” he said quietly. “Didn’t you know?”
No, she didn’t know. Her breath stopped in her throat and she felt the flush that even reddened her breasts.
“My God,” he murmured, watching it spread. “I’ve never seen a woman blush here.” He touched her breasts, very gently.
“Well, now you have, and you can stop throwing your conquests in my face—Oh!”
His mouth stopped the tirade, and he smiled against it. “They weren’t conquests, they were educational experiences that made me the perfect specimen of male prowess you see before you.”
“Of all the conceited people…” she began.
He touched her, and she gasped, clinging to him. “What was that bit, about being conceited?” he asked.
She moaned and curled into his body, shivering. “Harden!” she cried.
“I’ll bet you didn’t even know that only one man out of twenty is capable of this….”
The cigarette went into the ashtray and his body covered hers. And he gave her a long and unbearably sweet lesson in rare male endurance that lasted almost until morning.
*
When she woke, he was dressed, whistling to himself as he whipped a belt around his lean hips and secured the big silver buckle.
“Awake?” he murmured dryly. He arched an eyebrow as she moved and groaned and winced. “I could stay home and we could make love some more.”
She caught her breath, gaping at him. “And your brother thinks you’re a virgin!” she burst out.
He shrugged. “We all make mistakes.”
“Yes, well the people who write sex manuals could do two chapters on you!” she gasped.
He grinned. “I could return the compliment. Don’t get up unless you want to. Having you take to your bed can only reflect favorably on my reputation in the household.”
She burst out laughing at the expression on his face. She sat up, letting the covers fall below her bare breasts, and held out her arms.
He dropped into them, kissing her with lazy affection. “I love you,” he whispered. “I’m sorry if I was a little too enthusiastic about showing it.”
“No more enthusiastic than I was,” she murmured softly. She reached up and kissed him back. “I wish you could stay home. I wish I wasn’t so…incapacitated.”
“Don’t sound regretful,” he chuckled. “Wasn’t it fun getting you that way?”
She clung to him, sighing. “Oh, yes.” Her eyes opened and she stared past him at the wall, almost purring as his hands found her silky breasts and caressed them softly. “Harden?”
“What, sweetheart?”
She closed her eyes. “Nothing. Just…I love you.”
He smiled, and reached down to kiss her again.
When he went downstairs to have Jeanie May take a tray up to Miranda, Evan grinned like a Cheshire cat.
“Worn her out after only one day? You’d better put some vitamins on that tray and feed her up,” he said.
Harden actually grinned back. “I’m working on that.”
“I gather everything’s going to be all right?”
“No thanks to you,” Harden said meaningfully.
Evan’s cheeks went ruddy. “I was only trying to help, and how was I to know the truth? My God, you never went around with women, you never brought anybody home… You could have been a virgin!”
Harden smiled secretly. “Yes, I could have.”
The way he put it made Evan more suspicious than ever. “Are you?” he asked.
“Not anymore,” came the dry reply. “Even if I was,” he added to further confound the older man. The smile faded. “Where’s Theodora?”
“Out feeding her chickens.”
He nodded, and went out the back door. He’d said some hard things to Theodora over the years, and Miranda was right about his vendetta. It was time to run up the white flag.
Theodora saw him coming and grimaced, and when he saw that expression, something twisted in his heart.
“Good morning,” he said, his hands stuffed into his pockets.
Theodora glanced at him warily. “Good morning,” she replied, tossing corn to her small congregation of Rhode Island Reds.
“I thought we might have a talk.”
“Why bother?” she asked quietly. “You and Miranda will be in your own place by next week. You won’t have to come over here except at Christmas.”
He took out a cigarette and lit it, trying to decide how to proceed. It wasn’t going to be easy. In all fairness, it shouldn’t be, he conceded.
“I…would like to know about my father,” he said.
The bowl slid involuntarily from Theodora’s hands and scattered the rest of the corn while she stared, white-faced, at Harden. “What?” she asked.
“I want to know about my father,” he said tersely. “Who he was, what he looked like.” He hesitated. “How you…felt about him.”
“I imagine you know that already,” she replied proudly. “Don’t you?”
He blew out a cloud of smoke. “Yes. I think I do, now,” he agreed. “There’s a big difference between love and infatuation. I didn’t know, until I met Miranda.”
“All the same, I’m sorry about Anita,” she said tightly. “I’ve had to live with it, too, you know.”
“Yes.” He hesitated. “It…must have been hard for you. Having me, living here.” He stared at her, searching for words. “If Miranda and I hadn’t married, if I’d given her a child, I know she’d have had it. Cherished it. Loved it, because it would have been a part of me.”
Theodora nodded.
“And all the shame, all the taunts and cutting remarks, would have passed right off her because we loved each other so much,” he continued. “She’d have raised my child, and what she felt for him would have been…special, because a love like that only happens once for most people.”
Theodora averted her eyes, blinded by tears. “If they’re lucky,” she said huskily.
“I didn’t know,” he said unsteadily, unconsciously repeating the very words Miranda had said to him the night before. “I never loved…until now.”
Theodora couldn’t find the words. She turned, finding an equal emotion in Harden’s face. She stood there, small and defenseless, and something burst inside him.
He held out his arms. Theodora went into them, crying her heart out against his broad chest, washing away all the bitterness and pain and hurt. She felt something wet against her cheek, where his face rested, and around them the wind blew.
“Mother,” he said huskily.
Her thin arms tightened, and she smiled, thanking God for miracles.
*
Later, they sat on the front porch and she told him about his father, bringing out a long-hidden album that contained the only precious photographs she had.
“He looks like me,” Harden mused, seeing his own face reflected in what, in the photograph, was a much younger one.
“He was like you,” she replied. “Brave and loyal and loving. He never shirked his duty, and I loved him with all my heart. I still do. I always will.”
“Did your husband know how you felt?”
“Oh, yes,” she said simply. “I was too honest t
o pretend. But he loved children, you see, and my pregnancy brought out all his protective instincts. He loved me the way I loved Barry,” she added sadly. “I gave him all I could, and hoped that it would be enough.” She brushed at a tear. “He loved you, you know. Even though you weren’t blood kin to him, he was crazy about you from the day you were born.”
He smiled. “Yes. I remember.” He frowned as he looked at his mother. “I’m sorry. I’m so damned sorry.”
“You had to find your way,” she said. “It took a long time, and you had plenty of sorrow along the way. I knew what you were going through in school, with the other children throwing the facts of your birth up to you. But if I had interfered, I would have made it worse, don’t you see? You had to learn to cope. Experience is always the best teacher.”
“Even if it doesn’t seem so at the time. Yes, I know that now.”
“About Anita…”
He took her thin, wrinkled hand in his and held it tightly. “Anita’s people would never have let us marry. But even now, I can’t really be sure that it was me she wanted, or just someone her parents didn’t approve of. She was very young, and high-strung, and her mother died in an asylum. Evan said that if God wants someone to live, they will, despite the odds. I don’t know why I never realized that until now.”
She smiled gently. “I think Miranda’s opened your eyes to a lot of things.”
He nodded. “She won’t ever forget her husband, or the child she lost. That’s a good thing. Our experiences make us the people we are. But the past is just that. She and I will make our own happiness. And there’ll be other babies. A lot of them, I hope.”
“Oh, that reminds me! Jo Ann’s pregnant!”
“Maybe it’s the water,” Harden said, and smiled at her.
She laughed. The smile faded and her eyes were eloquent. “I love you very much.”
“I…love you,” he said stiffly. He’d said it more in two days than he’d said it in his life. Probably it would get easier as he went along. Theodora didn’t seem to mind, though. She just beamed and after a minute, she turned the page in the old album and started relating other stories about Harden’s father.
*
It was late afternoon before Miranda came downstairs, and Evan was trying not to smile as she walked gingerly into the living room where he and Harden were discussing a new land purchase.
“Go ahead, laugh,” she dared Evan. “It’s all your fault!”
Evan did laugh. “I can’t believe that’s a complaint, judging by the disgustingly smug look on your husband’s face,” he mused.
She shook her head, as bright as a new penny as she went into Harden’s arms and pressed close.
“No complaints at all,” Harden said, sighing. He closed his eyes and laid his cheek against her dark hair. “I just hope I won’t die of happiness.”
“People have,” Evan murmured. But his eyes were sad as he turned away from them. “Well, I’d better get busy. I should be back in time for supper, if this doesn’t run late.”
“Give Anna my love,” Harden replied.
Evan grimaced. “Anna is precocious,” he muttered. “Too forward and too outspoken by far for a nineteen-year-old.”
“Most of my friends were married by that age,” Miranda volunteered.
Evan looked uncomfortable and almost haunted for a minute. “She doesn’t even need to be there,” he said shortly. “Her mother and I can discuss a land deal without her.”
“Is her mother pretty?” Miranda asked. “Maybe she’s chaperoning you.”
“Her mother is fifty and as thin as a rail,” he replied. “Hardly my type.”
“What does Anna look like?” Miranda asked, curious now.
“She’s voluptuous, to coin a phrase,” Harden answered for his taciturn brother. “Blonde and blue-eyed and tall. She’s been swimming around Evan for four years, but he won’t even give her a look. He’s thirty-four, you know. Much too old for a mere child of nineteen.”
“That’s damned right,” he told Harden forcibly. “A man doesn’t rob cradles. My God, I’ve known her since she was a child.” He frowned. “Which she still is, of course,” he added quickly.
“Go ahead, convince yourself,” Harden nodded.
“I don’t have to do any convincing!”
“Have a good time.”
“I’m going to be discussing land prices,” he said, glaring at Harden.
“I used to enjoy that,” Harden said, shrugging. “You might, too.”
“That will be the day. I…”
“Harden, want a chocolate cake for supper?” Theodora called from the doorway, smiling.
Harden drew Miranda closer and smiled back. “Love one, if it’s not too much trouble.”
“No trouble at all,” she said gently.
“Mother!” he called when she turned, and Evan’s eyes popped.
“What?” Theodora asked pleasantly.
“Butter icing?”
She laughed. “That’s just what I had in mind!”
Evan’s jaw was even with his collar. “My God!” he exclaimed.
Harden looked at him. “Something wrong?”
“You called her Mother!”
“Of course I did, Evan, she’s my mother,” he replied.
“You’ve never called her anything except Theodora,” Evan explained. “And you smiled at her. You even made sure she wouldn’t be put to any extra work making you a cake.” He looked at Miranda. “Maybe he’s sick.”
Miranda looked up at him shyly and blushed. “No, I don’t think so.”
“I’d have to be weak if I were sick,” he explained to Evan, and Miranda made an embarrassed sound and hid her face against his shoulder.
Evan shook his head. “Miracles,” he said absently. He shrugged, smiling, and turned toward the door, reaching for his hat as he walked through the hall. “I’ll be back by supper.”
“Anna’s a great cook,” Harden reminded him. “You might get invited for supper.”
“I won’t accept. I told you, damn it, she’s too young for me!”
He went out, slamming the door behind him.
Harden led Miranda out the front door and onto the porch, to share the swing with him. “Anna wants to love him, but he won’t let her,” he explained. “Why?”
“I’ll tell you one dark night,” he promised. “But for now, we’ve got other things to think about. Haven’t we?” he added softly.
“Oh, yes.” She caught her her breath just before he took it away, and she smiled under his hungry kiss.
*
The harsh memories of the wreck that had almost destroyed Miranda’s life faded day by wonderful day, as Miranda and Harden grew closer. Theodora was drawn into the circle of their happiness and the new relationship she enjoyed with Harden lasted even when the newlyweds moved into their own house.
But Miranda’s joy was complete weeks later, when she fainted at a family gathering and a white-faced Harden carried her hotfoot to the doctor.
“Nothing to worry about,” Dr. Barnes assured them with a grin, after a cursory examination and a few pointed questions. “Nothing at all. A small growth that will come out all by itself—in just about seven months.”
They didn’t understand at first. And when they did, Miranda could have sworn that Harden’s eyes were watery as he hugged her half to death in the doctor’s office.
For Miranda, the circle was complete. The old life was a sad memory, and now there was a future of brightness and warmth to look forward to in a family circle that closed around her like gentle arms. She had, she considered as she looked up at her handsome husband, the whole world right here beside her.
*
Be sure to check out
Diana Palmer’s next book in her WYOMING MEN series,
WYOMING WINTER.
When rancher J.C. Calhoun rescues a lost little girl, he never expects to reunite with his lost love—and confront the harsh truth about their shared past.
Keep rea
ding to get a glimpse of
WYOMING WINTER.
CHAPTER ONE
Colie Thompson was in a mild panic. Her brother Rodney was bringing over his friend J.C. Calhoun. J.C. was thirty-two, pretty much at the end of his Army Reserve service. He and Rodney met in Iraq, almost four years ago. Both men were with the same Army unit. Rodney was serving his first tour of duty. J.C.’s Army Reserve unit had been called up for limited duty, and he was assigned to the same area that Rodney was. In one of those wild coincidences, they started talking and discovered that they both lived in the same Wyoming town, J.C. having taken a job with another Catelow resident, Ren Colter, whom he’d met during his first tour of duty. Rodney looked up to J.C., who was a little older. The older man had been a police officer before he went into the Army the first time, almost twelve years earlier.
Rodney left the Army before his tour of duty was officially up, never saying why. He’d been home for several months. After J.C. finished his overseas duty, he came home with him sometimes, although they’d grown apart since Rodney started a new job. They still went around together, but not often. One memorable visit to the Thompson home was on Colie’s birthday, when J.C. had unexpectedly given her a cat. It was the high point of her recent life. She named the huge gray Siamese cat Big Tom and it slept on her bed every night.
Even though he didn’t come home with Rodney much, Colie often saw J.C. around Catelow, which was a small and very clannish town. There were only a couple of restaurants, and Colie, whose real name was Colleen, worked as a clerk for a law firm downtown. Inevitably, she saw J.C. from time to time, occasionally with her brother. And since he was single, and handsome, and mostly avoided women, he was the subject of much gossip.
He always made time to talk to Colie if he saw her. He was polite, teasing, friendly. He made her glow inside. Once, when he brought Rod home after his car had quit, J.C. had helped her into her jacket when she was going outside to get the mail. Just the touch of his hands was like an explosion of pleasure. The more she saw of him, the more she wanted him.
Rodney had invited J.C. to come to supper before this, but he’d always had an excuse. This time, he accepted. It had been just after Colie had started walking back to the office, in the snow, and J.C. had stopped and given her a ride the rest of the way. Sitting with him, in the cozy warmth of the big black SUV he drove, she’d been hesitant to get out again. They’d talked about the upcoming presidential election, the state of the country, the beauty of Catelow in the snow. He’d teased her about wearing high heels to work instead of sensible boots, with snow already piling up and she’d retorted that boots would hardly compliment the pretty pant suit she was wearing. He’d pursed his lips and looked at her, long and hard, and said Colie would look good in anything. She’d gone inside the law office, reluctantly, flushed and beaming after the unexpected pleasure of his company.
