The Heart Breaker

by Nicole Jordan

  Almost to his surprise, he found himself in his bedchamber, the one he had shared with his first wife. He tried to picture Doe as she’d been in life, with her quiet features and gentle brown eyes, but all he could remember was the last time Heather had visited this room, when he’d spurned her love. And later… when he’d offered her gold for sex, making a mockery of the tender passion that had been the mainstay of their marriage for the past few months.

  He sank heavily onto the mattress. He felt numb, except for the burning in his eyes, in his heart.

  He didn’t protest when a squirming Janna crawled off his lap and made herself a nest among the pillows. Instead Sloan lay back on the bed, exhausted from the turmoil of the past few weeks, from the constant war between feeling and trying not to feel.

  Wearily he shut his eyes, trying to summon Doe’s face. All he could see was a pair of golden eyes shimmering with tears … Heather’s beautiful features torn by despair and anguish as she said a final farewell.

  She was wrong, Sloan reflected bleakly. She was wrong to think he didn’t love her.

  If he didn’t, then why did it hurt so god-awful much to lose her?

  Chapter 19

  He was running, his heart pounding in desperation as he chased an ephemeral vision across the sunlit meadow. Doe’s shining raven hair rippled behind her in the wind as she ran from him through the columbine.

  It was a game, a lover’s game.

  He called her name, but she refused to stop. He shouted, pleading with her to come back, but she wouldn’t hear. He followed, his legs churning, his lungs laboring for breath.

  She led him to her grave. When he arrived, chest aching, she was sitting cross-legged on the grass, weaving stems of delicate blue columbine together.

  She lifted her dark gaze to him, and her sad smile tore at his heart. “You have come to say farewell.” It wasn’t a question.

  He could answer only with the truth. “Yes.”

  The flowers slipping through her fingers, she held her hands up to him.

  His own hands were shaking as he took hers and dropped to his knees before her. Her touch was so faint, she seemed more spirit than flesh.

  “My love,” she whispered, her image wavering before his eyes.

  “God, Doe, I’m sorry. I let you die.”

  “No, the blame was not yours.”

  “I wish …” he began helplessly.

  “No. No regrets.” She shook her head in sadness.

  “Doe … there is something I must tell you.”

  “I know. The woman … your new wife… She loves you.”

  He bowed his head, unable to dispute her.

  “And you love her.”

  “Yes…” His throat was tight. “I love her.”

  “Then I must go.”

  When he felt her grasp waver, he looked up. Her likeness was fading. “Doe,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, raw.

  “Farewell, my love. Care well for our daughter…”

  He gripped Doe’s hands, trying desperately to hold on, but they dissolved in his grasp. He cried her name in anguish, but her spirit faded in a wisp of smoke and shadow.

  He woke with a start, his cry echoing in the darkness, the wetness of tears chilling his face.

  It had been a dream. Bittersweet, heartrending. A final good-bye.

  His eyes burned with scalding tears. The muscles of his throat locked tight against the effort of holding them back, Sloan turned his head to find his baby daughter snuggled against his arm. He drew Janna into the curve of his body, seeking comfort. It brought no ease.

  A sob caught in his throat.

  Struggling against the fierce ache, he buried his face in the soft down of her hair. His chest heaved once, twice, before he finally surrendered to the wrenching despair. Helplessly he let the relentless pain and grief out, his young daughter’s hair muffling the broken, wracking sound of his weeping.

  * * *

  It was a long while before he found the energy to stir. Amazingly Janna still slept soundly beside him.

  Feeling limp and drained, Sloan rose slowly from the bed and carried his daughter to her cradle. After kissing her forehead, he turned and left the room. He made his way downstairs, through the darkness of the kitchen and out into the chill night, where the shadowed mountains stood sentinel.

  Silence greeted him. Silence and healing.

  Sloan took a shuddering breath. Something had eased inside him during his paroxysm of grief tonight. He’d felt a loosening, a melting. The black ice that had encased his heart since Doe’s death had cracked and fallen away.

  He could let her go now. He could let his grief go. There was still—and would always be—a haunting sense of loss, but it was bearable now. Because of Heather.

  He raised his gaze to the rugged mountains, as always feeling a sense of his own insignificance. The Rockies would always be there, strong and immutable. Unlike life. Life was so fleeting, over so suddenly....

  Was that what Heather had pleaded with him to see? That he needed to accept the past and move on with his life? To make the most of what he had now, at this moment? With her?

  A haunting memory, dark and sweet, swept over him, this time of Heather. Heather warming him, welcoming him into her body, filling the bleak void in his soul. Offering her love.

  He hadn’t wanted her love. He’d been afraid to feel again, to let her too close. Afraid to care, to need too much, for fear of losing her like he had Doe. He’d tried to keep his heart safe from Heather by keeping his distance. But it hadn’t worked.

  He had loved her for months and lied to himself about it. She’d made herself a vital part of his life, whether he’d wanted her to or not. After Doe’s murder, he had retreated deep inside himself to heal his wounds, indulging in an orgy of guilt and suffering. But Heather had slipped beneath his defenses, insinuated herself into his heart… making him breathe again, hurt again, feel again. Love again.

  He loved her.

  Sloan squeezed his eyes shut. Against his will, love had seeped into his heart and into his blood, into every nerve and pore of him. He hadn’t thought it possible for him to feel such emotion again. But Heather made him yearn for things he thought he’d lost forever.

  An image of her cradling Janna in her arms, the golden woman and dark child, drifted into his mind. Heather. Warmth and light and healing.

  Since she’d come into his life, the bleakness had lifted. Since her coming, he’d been alive.

  But he’d driven her away.

  She hadn’t deserved his cruelty. How could he have hurt her so? She was giving and caring, strong and brave, everything he’d tried to reject. Sloan bowed his head, his chest aching with a fresh pain.

  He stood there for a long while. Dawn stretched silver-rose fingers over the eastern sky, yet he remained where he was. Brooding, lonely. Missing Heather with a fierceness that hurt.

  He had driven her away. And it might be too late to get her back.

  The sun had barely risen when Sloan received unexpected visitors. He’d just finished dressing and feeding Janna when his brother drove up with family in tow and Wolf Logan riding beside the buggy.

  Wolf must have returned from Denver last night, Sloan realized as he went out to greet them.

  He received a chilly response from his sister-in-law at least.

  “Heather’s gone, isn’t she,” Caitlin demanded accusingly before he could say a word. The martial light flaring in her blue eyes could have sparked a brushfire. Refusing assistance, she climbed down from the buggy with her baby daughter, her jaw set with determination.

  “I think a family conference is in order,” she announced, brushing past Sloan unceremoniously and heading for the porch steps.

  Quizzically, he met his brother’s gaze, but Jake shrugged, as if to say he had little voice in the matter.

  They settled in Sloan’s study, with the children playing near the hearth.

  “We are here to discuss finances,” Caitlin began resolutely. “Wolf h
as a plan, Sloan, and you will hear him out. We’re not leaving till you see reason.”

  Sloan looked at his friend and brother-in-law expectantly.

  Wolf leaned back against the leather couch and said more gently, “Cat’s right, Sloan. She told me about Lovell trying to take over the Bar M and about Randolf providing the money to settle the mortgage. Well, enough is enough. It’s time you accepted Doe’s share of my claim. You can finish buying out Jake’s half of the Bar M and get the ranch back in prime condition. Make it profitable again.”

  Sloan ran a hand down his face. “You know it sticks in my craw to take your money.”

  “It’s not my money. It belongs to Doe—and now to you and your daughter. You can accept for Janna’s sake, for her future, if nothing else.”

  When Sloan hesitated, Cat broke in angrily. “I can’t understand why you insist on being so stubborn! You can’t possibly enjoy being at the mercy of men like Lovell or Randolf.”

  “No, I don’t particularly enjoy it,” Sloan admitted dryly.

  Her tone turned pleading. “Then you can swallow your pride and take the money. It isn’t as if it’s charity. We’re family, Sloan. And if there’s one thing you should have learned from that terrible range war, it’s that families have to stick together. We have to!” When he still remained silent, her frustration exploded. “Merciful heaven, you should be grateful you have family who cares enough about you to come to your aid when times are rough!”

  Sloan sighed. “I am grateful.”

  “Then you’ll accept?”

  He nodded. It would be Doe’s final gift to him, to their daughter. With a share of a gold mine, he could give Janna a better life. And he could get on with his own life. Heather would approve, he knew.

  “For Janna’s sake, yes,” he answered.

  “Heaven forbid that you should accept help for yourself,” Caitlin retorted with cutting sarcasm.

  Sloan’s mouth curved in a faint grin. “I take it you’re mad at me, Cat.”

  “Yes, I’m mad at you! I’m furious at you for what you did to my friend.”

  “Your friend?”

  “You broke her heart, Sloan. You made Heather love you and then you drove her away.”

  He looked down at his hands. “You don’t think Randolf can give her a better life than I can?”

  “A better life!” she yelled at him. “That is utter hogwash! Wealth and prestige never meant spit to Heather. If you haven’t figured that out by now, then you’re a complete fool.”

  “I think you’re right,” Sloan agreed quietly. “I am a damned fool.”

  His admission took a little wind out of Cat’s sail, but she crossed her arms and eyed him with a fierce glare. “So what does that mean?”

  “It means that I know it’s my fault she left me.”

  “Do you love her?”

  Sloan looked away. In his mind’s eye, he saw Heather, her beautiful face softly alight with passion and love.

  “Dammit, Sloan, do you love her?” he heard Cat demand furiously.

  There was only one answer he could give. He loved Heather. It frightened him how much. How much he cared for her, how much he needed her.

  He needed her warmth, her healing touch. He’d kept himself wrapped in darkness for so very long, but Heather had chased back the darkness. She had fought him, fought for him. She’d made him remember how to dream and how to hope. How to love. Her love had unlocked the cold prison of his heart.

  He felt as if he’d awakened from a long sleep. Love. The kind of love that was wild and free. The kind that seared the heart.

  “Yes,” Sloan whispered in a raw voice. “I love her. So much I hurt with it.”

  He looked up to meet Wolf’s dark eyes, expecting to see regret and resignation. Instead he saw compassion, approval. Wolf knew it was time for him to let Doe go.

  Caitlin raised her hands in exasperation. “Well, you sure have made a fine mess of things. So what are you going to do about it?”

  “Do?” he repeated absently.

  “You have to go after her.”

  He meant to do just that. In fact, he’d planned to set out this morning, the instant he could get Janna into Caitlin’s care—though Cat had jumped the gun by showing up on his doorstep at the crack of dawn. He couldn’t bear to lose Heather. He didn’t know precisely where she’d gone, but he would tear Denver apart with his bare hands to find her if he had to.

  “You’re not going to let Randolf have your wife without a fight?” Jake prodded more gently, mistaking his silence.

  “No.”

  “We’ll care for Janna,” Caitlin offered. “Heather told me she has an interview at one o’clock with her prospective employer … Mrs. Phoebe Sharp. And I think Randolf was staying at the Windsor Hotel. That’s probably where you can find her. If you go now, you can get there before they leave.”

  “Go,” Wolf pressed, “and bring your wife home.”

  Sloan looked at them, his family. The people who loved him, urging him to salvage his future.

  His hand shaking, Sloan raked his fingers through his hair. What if it was too late? What if he had destroyed Heather’s love?

  For a moment he was struck again by the raw panic that had filled him when she’d left. He rose to his feet, desperation running through him like a knife.

  He had driven her away. The knowledge kept ricocheting inside his skull as he turned toward the door.

  Chapter 20

  The Windsor Hotel looked much as she expected, with its ornate gilt trappings and elegant gold and crimson furnishings. Yet Heather was blind to her surroundings as she sat numbly on the brocade chaise longue in her room.

  Evan had been quite kind to leave her alone after luncheon, allowing her time to collect herself before her interview. The problem was, she couldn’t manage it. She couldn’t stop crying.

  Despairingly her fingers closed around the gold piece Sloan had so contemptuously given her. Tears slipped down her cheeks as painful memories flooded her, each more cruel than the last. Sloan declaring he could never love her. Sloan seducing her body that last time, proving how quickly her resolve faded at his slightest touch. Sloan making no effort to prevent her from leaving.

  Her throat closed on a sob. A soft rap on the door made her lift her head with a start. Swallowing hard, she called, “Come in.”

  A bellboy peered inside the room. “Beg pardon, ma’am, but Mr. Randolf says he’ll be waiting for you downstairs in the lobby.”

  “Thank you. Would you tell him I’ll join him in a moment?”

  She sat there after he’d gone, her stomach clenched in knots. This step was so final. Denver was so far away from everything and everyone she had grown to love....

  Heaven help her, she couldn’t do this. She couldn’t leave Sloan. Even with all the heartache he’d caused her, the pain of living with him was preferable to the pain of living without him. She couldn’t leave.

  Dashing the tears from her eyes, she rose and resolutely put on her bonnet. Then she caught up her reticule and made her way downstairs.

  The hotel lobby was crowded, mainly with gentlemen in business suits, although there were a few ladies like herself. Heather glanced around her uncertainly, anxious to speak to Evan. Fortunately it was only a moment before she spied him in a sitting area, half hidden by a potted palm. He was reading a newspaper, but he tossed it aside when he saw her.

  “Evan, forgive me,” she murmured when she reached him, “but I’ve made a mistake.”

  Rising abruptly, he took her hands and surveyed her tearstained face with concern. “My dear, what is the matter? You appear distraught.”

  “I am. I can’t do this.”

  “You can’t attend the interview? Mrs. Sharp is expecting you shortly, but I’m certain we could postpone it to another day.”

  “No, I mean I can’t stay here, in Denver.”

  “It’s that McCord fellow, isn’t it? You can’t bring yourself to forsake him.”

  “Yes… Sloan
is my husband, Evan. I’m sorry, but my place is with him.”

  “Heather … I fear this is pure folly. Is there nothing I can do to persuade you otherwise?”

  “No. I must go back.”

  Evan gave a long sigh. “Very well. I will have your baggage loaded into the carriage and escort you home.”

  “Please, I couldn’t allow you to go to such trouble after all you’ve done for me—”

  “But I couldn’t permit you to travel on your own. I would never forgive myself if harm came to you.”

  Filled with gratitude, Heather raised herself up and pressed her lips against his cheek. “I can never thank you enough for your kindness.”

  Evan responded with a pained smile. “I only wish you could feel something more for me than mere appreciation—”

  The words had barely left his mouth when he was suddenly hauled backward, his hands torn from Heather’s grasp. She watched in shock as a hard fist contacted his jaw and he went flying to land with a thud on the floor.

  A hush fell over the hotel lobby. Evan lay sprawled on the elegant carpet, staring up at his assaulter, who stood towering over him, his expression fierce and dangerous.

  Heather had quit breathing. Sloan. Dear heaven....

  “I’ll thank you to keep your hands off my wife,” Sloan grated through his teeth.

  “It wasn’t… what you think,” she managed to murmur.

  Wincing, Evan rubbed his bruised jaw. “Indeed. I must say, Mr. McCord, this is getting to be a most annoying habit of yours.”

  Ignoring him, Sloan turned to her. “I have to talk to you. In private.”

  She couldn’t form a reply. She could simply stare, not daring to hope.

  Evan shook his head. “I don’t suppose you care that you are causing a scene, Senator.” When neither of them appeared to hear, he climbed to his feet and brushed off his elegant frock coat. “Very well, I suggest you retire upstairs for your discussion. I shall make my apologies to the hotel management for the disturbance. I only dare hope a man of my consequence can withstand the indignity of being tossed on his backside.”