Muttering an oath, he turned away from the window. They were better off here, at least for the time being. The shack was warm and dry, and they had enough food for a couple days, if necessary.
He sat down in the chair again, his gaze moving over Cindy’s face. Damn, but she was even more beautiful than he remembered. Leaning forward, he shook her shoulder. “Cindy? Wake up.”
Her eyelids fluttered open. “What’s wrong?”
“Do you know your name?”
“What?”
“Your name, what is it?”
She frowned at him, then lifted a hand to her head. “Are you crazy?”
“Dammit. . .”
“My name is Cindy, I live in Montana and you’re being ridiculous.”
He grunted softly and then grinned at her. “I read somewhere that if you think someone has a concussion, you should wake them every hour.”
“Every hour?” she said, groaning. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
Leaning forward, he placed his hand on her brow.
She knew he was only checking to see if she had a fever, but awareness flowed through her, sparked by his nearness, by the touch of his hand.
“Why’d you run out on him?”
“Who? Oh, Paul.” She blew out a sigh. “He was too rich. Too controlling. Too much like my dad.” And he wasn’t you.
“I didn’t know you could be too rich,” Ethan muttered. “But I know all about being too poor.” He looked at her speculatively. “So, did you really leave him at the altar?”
“Yes. I don’t know why I let it go so far. There’s no excuse, really. . . .” Sitting up, she propped the pillow behind her back. “I guess it was just easier to let him take over.”
“Did you finish college?”
“Yes,” she replied, and then lifted one brow. “How did you know I went?”
His gaze slid away from hers. “Sally must have mentioned it.”
“You talked to her about me?” she asked, pleased.
He shrugged. “Now and then.”
“We talked about you, too.”
“Is that right?”
Cindy nodded. “Sally must have spent a lot of time on the phone.”
“Yeah.” Sally had never told him that Cindy asked about him. Why hadn’t she ever mentioned it? And what would he have done if he knew?
“We had some good times, didn’t we?”
“Yeah.” His gaze met hers. This was no time to be going down memory lane, he thought ruefully. Not here, not now, when they were alone and vulnerable. But he couldn’t help it. “Do you remember the night Sally snuck out of her house and then couldn’t get back in because she forgot her key?”
“Yes.” Cindy grinned. “And you got the bright idea that you could climb up the trellis outside her bedroom and swing over to the window.”
“I made it, didn’t I?”
“You almost broke the trellis and your neck, too.”
“Well, I got her in the house, didn’t I? And her parents never found out.”
“My hero.” Cindy’s tone was light, but there was a wealth of emotion in her eyes.
Was she remembering the first time she had called him that? They had been out walking and found a baby bird at the base of a tree, chirping piteously for its mother. Cindy had called him her hero when he returned the tiny creature to its nest.
Awareness hummed between them again. It was a good thing she was hurt, he thought, or he would be sorely tempted to crawl into that bed beside her. The attraction between them had always been powerful, undeniable. But there had been more to their relationship than that. Cindy had always looked for the best in him, always made him see the best in himself.
He cleared his throat. “So, how are you feeling? Head still hurt?”
“A little.” She yawned behind her hand.
“Go back to sleep.”
“I think I will.” She slid back under the covers. “You should get some sleep, too.”
“Don’t worry about me.”
Their gazes met and held for a long moment. She wanted to say she’d done nothing but worry about him, think of him, dream of him for the last five years, but she wasn’t sure that would be wise, or that he would want to hear it.
She closed her eyes, as much to avoid his gaze as anything else, but she could still feel him watching her, like a cat at a mouse hole.
Sleep was a long time coming and even then she couldn’t escape him. Her dreams were filled with images of a bare-chested Lakota warrior swooping down on her and carrying her away on a big buckskin stallion.
Chapter Seven
Ethan kept watch over her all through the night, waking her every hour or so, checking her pupils. As annoying as it was to have her sleep disturbed so often, it also made her feel cherished. He had checked her one more time an hour ago. She had assured him she felt fine, and had insisted he get some sleep. She looked at him now, stretched out on the cot. He was so tall, so broad, he barely fit on the narrow mattress.
Just looking at him did funny things to her heart. Ethan had given her her first kiss, had been her first serious crush. But for his innate sense of honor and decency, she would have lost her virginity years ago. She blushed, remembering how she had begged him to make love to her, and how humiliating it had been when he refused, telling her she was too young to make such a life-altering decision. She had been stung by his words. Too young? she had thought angrily. She had been sixteen and certain she was all grown up. Only now did she realize how right he had been, and how very young sixteen really was.
With Ethan, she had never been afraid of anything, not even her father. When her dad had objected to her seeing Ethan, she had defied him for the first time in her life. Her parents had been wise enough to know that grounding her would only make her more defiant, and so they had agreed to let her date Ethan providing he picked her up at the front door and had her home at a decent hour.
In time, her mother had grown somewhat fond of Ethan, and though Cindy had doubted she would ever fully approve of her daughter dating an Indian dancer, Claire had done her best to make Ethan feel at home. It had been Claire who had tried to comfort Cindy when she broke up with Ethan, assuring her that she was too young to be serious about any man, and that, when the time was right, she would find someone else.
Cindy had thought Paul was that someone, right up until she stood beside him at the altar.
With a sigh, she collected her clothes from in front of the fireplace. Turning her back to the bed, she slipped out of Ethan’s shirt and into her own jeans and T-shirt. Sitting down on the chair once again, she pulled on her socks and boots, then ran a hand through her hair. She needed a hairbrush. And a toothbrush, she thought, grimacing.
As quietly as possible, she crossed the floor and poured herself a cup of coffee from the thermos. Thanks to Ethan’s tender care, the swelling in her ankle had gone down considerably and hardly hurt at all. She rummaged around in his saddlebags, looking for something to eat. She pulled out a sweet roll and a big red apple, then sat down again, her gaze resting on Ethan’s face. She sat there for a long time, looking from Ethan to the window and back again.
It was still raining, though not as hard as the night before.
She wondered if anyone was out looking for them. Probably not, she decided. Anyone who knew Ethan knew he could take care of himself. He had told her that he had been raised on the reservation, and that his grandfather had taught him how to hunt and track and survive off the land.
It was morning when he woke to find her sitting there, watching him. He lifted one brow, his expression amused.
Cindy shrugged. “There’s nothing else to look at.”
Sitting up, he ran his hand through his hair. He glanced at the thermos on the table. “Any coffee left?”
“A little.”
When she started to get up, he motioned for her to stay where she was. “I’ll get it. I don’t want you walking around on that ankle any more than you have to.”
She
smiled at him, obviously pleased by his concern.
He uncorked the thermos and poured the last of the coffee into the cup. Moving to the window, he looked outside. It was still raining, but the clouds were drifting. With any luck, the storm would blow itself out by nightfall and they could head back to the ranch tomorrow morning.
He could see Cindy’s reflection in the glass. Hard to believe that, after all this time, after all that had passed between them, he still wanted her. Shoot, maybe it was just a bad case of lust. Maybe that was all it had ever been. It still galled him that she had refused his phone calls, that she hadn’t answered his letters. He couldn’t believe she’d been so angry with him that she had cut him out of her life. When he got back home from the powwow, he had gone to see her first thing, only to learn from the maid that the Wagners had gone to Europe for an extended holiday.
Setting the cup on the window ledge, he clenched his hands into fists. Maybe it wasn’t so hard to understand. Hell, she had only been seventeen. Ethan had known from the start that getting involved with her would be a mistake, but he had been captivated by her from the beginning, charmed by her innocence, her unbridled admiration. She had made him feel as if anything was possible, made him believe in happily ever after. And then, the first time he’d had to leave her, she had thrown a temper tantrum and dumped him. And maybe that was to be expected, too. She had been her father’s darling, accustomed to having her own way. Her parents had given her anything she asked for, whether it was a new CD player or a diamond tennis bracelet. It was probably for the best that he and Cindy had broken up when they did. Even if they had somehow managed to stay together, he would never have been able to give her the kind of life she was used to, would never have been good enough for her. Hell, he didn’t have anything to offer her. He never had, and he never would.
He stared at her reflection. He had been a fool, he thought, to believe she had loved him. And a bigger fool to think they could have worked things out. He was a poor Indian; she was Daddy’s little princess. She had been raised in a big house; he had grown up on the reservation. She drove a BMW; he didn’t even own a car. She went to college; he went to jail.
And yet, maybe he was selling himself short. Business at the ranch had picked up since he’d been here. In his own way, he was working to preserve his people’s customs and traditions. Not only that, but he was helping Indian kids to be proud of their heritage.
Shaking off his memories, he went to the saddlebags and pulled out a can of tuna and a couple of French rolls.
He heard her footsteps coming up behind him. “Can I help?”
He shook his head. “I can do it.”
Cindy frowned at his back, puzzled by his curt tone. Last night he had treated her so tenderly she had almost believed he still cared.
He made two sandwiches, handed her one, along with a bottle of water.
His fingers brushed hers and sent frissons of awareness skittering up her arm. They ate in taut silence.
The tension between them grew more pronounced as the day wore on. Ethan paced the floor, restless as a caged animal. Cindy pretended to be oblivious to his presence, but she was acutely aware of his every move, his every breath. The fact that he was shirtless and barefoot only made it worse. He looked every inch the warrior he was, wild and untamed. She longed to touch him, to run her fingers through his hair, trace the corded muscles in his arms, run her palms over his chest. To feel his arms holding her tight, his mouth on hers. . .
The sound of the rain, which she usually found peaceful, grew increasingly annoying. By mid afternoon, the storm had passed by and the sun came out. That annoyed her, too. It meant they would be leaving soon, that the time they had shared would soon be over.
Too restless to sit any longer, she stood, intending to see if there was anything left to snack on in his saddlebags. Ethan was still pacing. He turned just then and ran into her. Instinctively, he reached for her to keep her from falling, and the next thing she knew, she was in his arms and he was kissing her, his mouth drinking from hers as if she were a pool of sparkling water and he was a man dying of thirst.
At first she was too startled to resist. And then, as he deepened the kiss, all thought of resistance fled and she leaned into him, her hands splaying across his broad back, her fingers kneading the muscles there. Her breasts were flattened against his chest. Tiny fires of desire ignited deep within her, the flames uncurling, stretching, engulfing her.
One of his hands cupped the back of her head, the other cupped her buttocks, drawing her up against him, letting her feel the full hard length of his arousal.
She moaned softly, confused by her quick response to a man she had vowed to hate and ignore for the rest of her life. But there was no way to ignore the heat of his kiss, or the yearnings of her own heart. The years seemed to fall away and she was sixteen again, being seriously kissed by a man for the first time.
She was breathless, her heart pounding like a Lakota war drum, when he finally broke the kiss. “Ethan. . .”
He stared down at her, looking as shaken as she felt. “Why, Cindy?” he asked, his voice husky. “Why didn’t you return my calls? Answer my letters?”
She frowned. “What calls? What letters?”
He released her and took a step backward. “Don’t play games with me, dammit. I called you day and night for a week. I wrote you a dozen letters. They all came back, unopened.”
She blinked up at him. “There were no letters.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Dammit, don’t lie to me!”
“I’m not lying. I called your mother the day after our fight. She told me you’d already left for Kansas City. I kept hoping you’d call me back, but you never did.”
Ethan stared at her, wondering if she was telling him the truth. He wondered why his mother had never told him about Cindy’s phone call, although he could guess. His mother hadn’t been any happier about his dating a white girl than Cindy’s folks had been about her dating him.
“Who did you talk to when you called?” she asked.
“Usually the maid. Your father answered a couple of times. He told me you didn’t want to talk to me, that you never wanted to see me again.”
She thought of that week before they had left for Europe. At her father’s insistence, her mother had taken her shopping for their trip. They had left early every morning, often not coming home until after dark. Had her father deliberately planned it that way so she wouldn’t be there to answer the phone or go through the mail? Cindy didn’t want to think so, but looking back, she could see her father’s fine hand in all of it.
He had been so sympathetic, so understanding. At the time, she had been too hurt to wonder at his sudden change of heart. Had it all been nothing but an act to throw her off guard and make her think he cared, when it had just been his way of getting Ethan out of her life once and for all?
Cindy shook her head, stunned by the thoughts running through her mind. “He couldn’t,” she murmured. “He wouldn’t!” But she knew in her heart that he had.
“Well, he did, if what you say is true.”
“You don’t believe me? Why would I lie to you now?”
“Hell, I don’t know.” Going to the window, he stared into the distance. He had built a wall around his heart, refusing to let anyone in. Cindy had hurt him far worse than he had ever let on, and he had sworn he would never give anyone the power to hurt him like that again. But now. . . He thought about what she had said. There was no reason for her to lie to him at this late date. She had nothing to gain. And nothing to lose.
“What about Paul?” he asked.
“What about him?”
Ethan turned to face her, his gaze probing hers. “Did you sleep with him?”
She stared at him, stung that he would ask such a question. “Would it matter if I had?”
“You’d damn well better believe it.”
“Well, I didn’t, not that it’s any of your business.” She had never been tempted to sleep w
ith Paul. When he had put pressure on her, saying everyone did it nowadays, she had told him she didn’t care what everyone else was doing. She wanted to be married in a long white dress, and she wanted it to mean something. That was the truth, but not all of the truth. Her mother had taught her that her virginity was a precious gift to be given to the man she loved. And that man had been, and still was, Ethan Stormwalker. “Anyway, I don’t know why it matters now.”
Watching her closely, he said, “It matters.”
Was it possible he was jealous? It sure sounded like it. Hope melted the ice around her heart. Was it possible he still cared? Did he mean. . .? “Ethan?”
He took a step toward her. but came to an abrupt halt when the cabin door swung open and Rudy barged in.
“Ethan! Damn, we’ve been looking everywhere for the two of you!” Rudy’s gaze moved quickly over them. “You don’t look any the worse for wear.”
“We’re fine,” Ethan said. “Miss Wagner’s horse threw her. She’s okay,” he added quickly. “Just a sprained ankle and a bump on the head. I thought it best not to try and make it to the ranch in the rain.”
Rudy nodded. Removing his hat, he slapped it against his thigh, sending drops of water spraying across the floor. “I’ve got an extra mount with me.” He resettled his hat on his head. “You two ready?”
Ethan nodded, grateful that Cindy would be riding away from the cabin sitting in the saddle and not draped over it.
It took but a few moments to gather up their gear. Ethan took a last look around to make sure they had everything, then followed Rudy and Cindy out of the shack.
It was slow going getting back to the ranch. The trail, slick with mud, was treacherous in some places and completely washed away in others. Wolf quartered back and forth ahead of them, his nose to the ground.
Between the ache in her head, the stress of navigating the trail and the things left unsettled with Ethan, Cindy was exhausted when they reached the ranch.
Dude Ranch Bride Page 6
