He released her. "Your noodles are about to boil over."
That was Garth, Devon thought as she turned back to the stove. Even in the midst of an emotional confrontation, he never lost sight of the practical side of life.
Devon felt desperate, torn between what she was afraid might be love and a deep wariness of what she would be getting into if she followed through on her commitment to this man. The mere thought of moving back to Hawk Springs had a stifling effect on her mind. She experienced a subtle panic that made her nervous and uneasy.
It wasn't just the thought of returning to the small town that was threatening, although that was bad enough. It was the knowledge that this time around she would be Garth's wife that really worried her. It was possible she loved him. Right now she didn't want to explore that too closely. She knew for certain she respected him and she couldn't deny the passion he drew from her, but that didn't change the fact that Saxon would be a difficult man to live with.
He would be possessive, arrogantly sure of himself, rigid and unbending when it came to the more frivolous things in life. He worked hard and demanded that others do the same. Devon was convinced that one of the reasons he wanted to marry her was that she'd proved she wasn't afraid of hard work. He wouldn't want a flighty butterfly for a wife. He needed a sturdy, practical, pragmatic, uncomplaining and undemanding farm woman. Someone with whom he could work shoulder to shoulder for the next fifty or sixty years. He didn't need a woman who'd learned to love freedom and silk. He didn't need a woman who'd learned to have fun.
"What happened to your photography this year, Devon?" Garth asked as he watched her finish dinner preparations. "Back in Hawk Springs you always had some of your photographs hanging on the walls."
"I've been doing some free-lance work. Not much." No sense explaining that she'd been just beginning to make the free-lance work pay and hoped to eventually make a career out of it.
He nodded. "You'll be able to get back into it when you return to Hawk Springs. I'm going to need some good portraits of Royal Standard and High Flyer for this year's ads in the horse magazines. I've been waiting until you got back rather than hire a photographer. I did that after you left last year and the photos weren't nearly as good as the ones you did the year before."
Devon couldn't deny the little wave of pleasure that went through her at the compliment. Royal Standard and High Flyer were two of Garth's prize Arab stallions. They commanded high stud fees. When their equine services were advertised in the horse magazines a photo was usually run along with the full-page color ad that detailed their fancy pedigrees.
The year before she'd left Hawk Springs Garth had hired Devon to take some shots of his stallions, even though she'd never had a photo published. She'd always thought of her photography as just a hobby. At the time she'd worried that Garth was merely finding a discreet way of giving her money, but she'd been reassured when the response to the ad had been very positive. It had given her the confidence to actually consider trying to make photography pay. Something else for which she owed Garth, Devon thought with an inner wince.
"I think we're ready to eat," Devon said in a subdued voice as she folded the peanut sauce into the noodles.
"Good. I've been hungry since I stopped at a fast food restaurant on the Interstate around noon. That junk food doesn't stick with you." Garth ambled over to the kitchen table, eyeing the noodle dish. "What is that, exactly?"
"Well, it's not beef," she assured him.
"I can see that. Has it got a name?"
"Don't look so skeptical. It's just noodles and vegetables in peanut sauce. Close your eyes and pretend it's a chunk of pot roast or a piece of steak." She set the dish down on the table and sorted out the tableware. Garth slid onto the seat across from her.
"I'm hungry enough to eat anything." He watched her ladle out a hearty serving and set it in front of him. He tried the mixture rather cautiously, chewing reflectively.
"Well?" Devon demanded.
"It's not bad. A little strange, but not bad." Garth took a much bigger second bite. "I think I can get through it without having to close my eyes."
"You don't know how relieved I am," Devon said dryly.
"Is this the kind of thing you like to cook these days?"
"Afraid so. I make a heck of a pasta primavera, too."
"I won't even ask what that is."
"Smart man," she said with an approving smile. Across the table his gaze met hers, and for a moment a silent, humorous communication took place that left Devon feeling suddenly very nervous. "Garth?"
"What?" Garth was busy forking up another bite of noodles.
"Did you have any fun this year?" For the life of her she didn't know what gave her the courage to ask him the same question he'd asked her earlier when they'd entered the apartment. But the words were out and Devon had to know the truth.
"No," he said simply and went back to his noodles.
Devon stared at him. "No? Garth, what I meant was have you dated? Seen anyone else?''
"What you're asking is if I've been to bed with anyone else," he said bluntly. "And the answer is no. For the same reason your answer was no. We had an understanding, didn't we, Devon?"
She was still feeling slightly stunned. "We talked about getting married in a year's time, but I certainly never expected you to... to stay celibate for all that time."
"Why not?"
Devon waved a hand weakly. "Well, you're a man and I just assumed you'd need or at least want... That is, I was sure you'd get involved with someone this past year."
Understanding abruptly lit his eyes and his mouth hardened. "You thought I'd find someone else and let you off the hook, is that it?"
"I thought you might realize that another woman might make you a better wife, Garth," Devon said with cautious dignity.
"Ah, Devon," he murmured. "What am I going to do with you? You're going to hunt for any available loophole, aren't you? Don't you know it's time to stop running?"
She couldn't take her eyes off him. "A whole year, Garth? You haven't been with another woman for a whole year?"
Garth poured the last of the wine into his glass. "I told you, it's been a long twelve months," he said calmly.
Three
"I assume you've made plans to give the furniture away to charity?" Garth stood in the center of the black and white living room, surveying the sleek, sophisticated love seat, lacquer tables and assorted chairs. He hadn't wasted any time after dinner. As soon as the dishes were done he'd begun organizing the packing.
Devon, who had been trailing helplessly around behind him while he took inventory and gave instructions, finally dug in her heels. She loved her furniture. "Give it away? Are you crazy, Garth? This furniture is beautiful. I love it. I handpicked every piece and I'm not about to give it away. It took me weeks to make my decisions on the coffee table and the love seat. I had to wait for the chairs to be shipped from Italy."
His brows rose at the unexpected outburst. He seemed to realize this wasn't going to be the minor issue he had assumed. "Devon, this stuff isn't exactly the kind of thing we can use at Hawk's Flight. Besides, we've already got enough furniture there."
"I've seen your furniture," she retorted, remembering the solid, uninteresting pieces that filled his home. "Early American Ordinary. Not even good examples of the type. No style and no interest."
"It was in the house when I bought the place. It's held up well for years and will probably last for another decade."
"A truly chilling thought."
"I never realized you took furniture so personally," he muttered dryly.
"I couldn't afford to take it personally until this past year when I finally had the freedom and the money to buy what I wanted."
Garth walked over to the love seat and examined a cushion. "This stuff cost a lot?"
Devon nearly choked and then her sense of humor came to her aid. "Oh, yes, Garth, it cost a lot. But that's not the worst part."
&nbs
p; He frowned at her, letting the cushion drop back into place. "What's the worst part?"
"I'm still making payments on it," she informed him sweetly.
He looked scandalized. "Payments? On furniture? You bought it on time?"
Devon crossed her arms under her breasts and regarded him with amused defiance. She knew perfectly well Garth wouldn't think of going into debt for anything except land, and the only reason he occasionally took out loans for property was because he was businessman enough to know it made more sense than buying land outright. "I'll be finished paying for it in three months."
"I can't believe it. Why didn't you just get some stuff at yard sales or secondhand stores? Or you could have used some of the stuff you had in Hawk Springs instead of selling it before you left town. Why in hell did you go into hock for a pile of foreign furniture?" Garth was truly dumbfounded.
Devon ambled over to the love seat and threw herself down on it. She stroked the black leather fondly. "I've told you why. It's beautiful and I love it."
He glared down at her. "You'd never have done something like this back in Hawk Springs. You were too sensible."
"True. I had other responsibilities at the time. But this past year I've been responsible for no one but myself. It's been great. I've discovered that there is a very unsensible side to my nature. You're lucky you arrived when you did," she added with mocking seriousness. "I was going to start shopping for a car next week. One of those cute little two-seater import models. Something with dash and flair. Just like my furniture."
"You're right. It's a good thing I got here when I did. I can just see something like that sitting in the drive at the ranch. About as useful as a hole in a rowboat." He shot her a glowering look and then sighed. "All right, we'll have to make arrangements for this stuff to be shipped down to Hawk Springs. I don't know what the hell we're going to do with it when it gets there. Put it into storage until we can arrange to sell it, I guess."
"Over my dead body." Devon glanced at her precious Italian furniture, feeling goaded. It was ridiculous, but the furniture was rapidly becoming a symbol of some sort. "Actually, I think it will look rather interesting in your living room."
Garth's eyes narrowed. "Over my dead body. It looks like it would fall apart if someone breathed on it heavily. That chair looks about as comfortable as a packing crate and there isn't any place to put your feet. Don't the Italians believe in recliners? And how's a man supposed to stretch out on that miniature sofa?"
Devon took a deep breath. "The furniture and I go together, Garth. We're part of a package."
The contest of wills was shorter-lived than Devon would have believed.
"I don't really want to make a federal case out of this, Devon," Garth said quietly.
"Neither do I. But I want my furniture."
"Why is it so important to you? Because it represents the freedom you think you've been enjoying this year? Or is it a kind of security blanket for you?"
"Maybe I just don't like having all my decisions made for me," Devon suggested softly. When he flicked her a quick, questioning glance she added with a smile, "You tend to do that, Garth. You're so accustomed to making decisions and you're so good at it that you just assume you should make them for everyone around you."
His expression was stony. "Any decisions I make for you are in your best interests, honey."
"Thank you," she murmured. "Keep in mind that any decisions I might make for you are in your best interests."
There were a few seconds of silence while Garth tried to absorb the alien notion of anyone making decisions for him. He clearly couldn't quite grasp the concept. Instead, he must have decided Devon was amusing herself. He smiled his slow, serious smile and reached down to tug her to her feet.
"I see that your stubborn streak hasn't changed a bit during this past year." He raised his hands and speared his fingers through her hair, his gray eyes gleaming intently. "Don't fight me every step of the way, Devon. There's no reason to. Everything's already been decided. All the important decisions were made a year ago when you said you'd marry me. You're going to come back to Hawk Springs with me and we're going to make a home together. It's what we both want."
"Do we?" she asked uncertainly.
"Yes. And I think deep inside you know it. This year apart has been a mistake in some ways. It's put doubts in your head and made you wonder about what you're doing, but you'll stop fretting when you're settled in Hawk Springs. It's where you belong, sweetheart. And Lord knows, I've waited long enough to bring you home."
"Garth?"
"Do you have any idea," he asked, his voice turning husky as he continued to wind his hands in her hair, "of how many nights I've lain awake remembering what it was like between us?"
A curious flare of excitement and hope came to life within Devon. "Did you really lie awake thinking about me?"
"More nights than I can remember. I've missed you so much, Devon. I thought this year would never end." He uttered something half under his breath and then he pulled her closer, folding his strong arms around her until she was pinned tightly and securely. "I'm not going to let you go again. I couldn't."
Devon slowly put her arms around him, letting herself relax against the welcoming strength of his body. He smelled so good, she thought fleetingly. There was a tang of honest sweat mixed with the indefinable essence of fresh air and sunshine, soap and leather. Her arms tightened as something inside her stirred in response. This was Garth, the man who'd taught her the meaning of passion on that fateful night a year ago. He was telling her he'd been wanting her for a long, lonely year. She couldn't deny that a part of her had been wanting him, too.
"You feel so good, Devon, and it's been so long. We're nowhere near Hawk Springs. There's no one who will know if I take you to bed tonight. You were always so careful not to cause gossip, but no one will talk about you after tonight. I was going to wait until after we're married but I honestly don't think I can." His mouth hungrily skimmed down the arch of her throat and his hands moved on her back in a sensual, stroking motion.
Devon shivered restlessly, aware of the excitement curling to life inside her. No other man had even remotely interested her this past year and she knew now what her body had known all along. She'd been waiting for Garth. It would probably complicate things if she made love with him tonight. There was so much they had to work out, so many decisions yet to be made. Garth might be certain of the future in his own mind, but Devon was plagued with uncertainty and doubt.
Yet none of those uncertainties or doubts seemed an adequate shield against the need that was beginning to burn within her.
"Garth, the packing..."
"The packing can wait until morning," he said. "I can't." His hands moved on her more urgently, pulling the silk blouse free of her waistband. He sighed with satisfaction when he slid his rough fingers underneath the delicate fabric and touched her smooth skin.
Devon gave up trying to use common sense to halt the inevitable. Garth wasn't the only one who'd been waiting a year to rediscover the passionate side of their relationship. She'd told herself she didn't want to make a commitment, that she needed her freedom after so many years of being confined by responsibilities, but it was hard to look into the future when Garth was holding her like this. A year was a long time.
"Devon, you feel so good. Warm and silky and soft. I don't think I'll ever be able to get enough of you. Can't you tell what you do to me?"
She could feel his desire and knew a primitive joy in being able to provoke such a response. Devon gloried in the tough, muscled feel of him. She slipped her fingertips over his back, kneading with catlike sensitivity.
"Sweetheart, you're going to drive me out of my mind." Garth groaned and captured her mouth. When she parted her lips for him he shuddered and swept inside to take what she was offering.
Devon barely felt the silk blouse sliding off her shoulders as Garth found the buttons and undid them. But she was suddenly aware of coolness
against her skin and then the heat of Garth's hands as he gently cupped her breasts.
When he found and released the catch of her bra, Devon sighed into his mouth. She trembled as his callused palms glided over her nipples, coaxing them into taut peaks.
"Oh, Garth, I'd almost forgotten what it was like," Devon breathed in soft wonder.
"I never even came close to forgetting," he said thickly. "The memories have been threatening to push me over the edge. Just thinking about the way you respond to me was enough to send me into a hell of a lot of cold showers this past year. And nothing's changed, has it?" He touched her taut nipple with his thumb.
Devon could hear the masculine satisfaction in his voice, but she didn't really mind just then. He was right. In this respect, nothing had changed. She shook her head in mute agreement and Garth kissed her again, deeply, longingly. Devon felt a year's worth of aching need and leashed passion in him and knew that in that moment she wanted nothing more than to release that passion and satisfy the need.
She began to fumble with the buttons of his shirt, wanting more of him. Impatiently Garth shrugged out of the garment. When Devon splayed her fingers against his chest, he covered one of her small hands briefly with his own, restraining her lightly.
"The bedroom," he muttered hoarsely. "Let's go to the bedroom."
Devon smiled mistily. "Why?" she asked, so caught up in the sensual longing that was flowing in her veins that she didn't stop to consider her question.
"Because I'll never fit on that damn little couch."
"There's plenty of room on the rug." She lifted her face shyly to meet his eyes and put her arms around his neck. Her own boldness startled her, but she didn't regret it. If she couldn't be adventuresome with Garth, she couldn't be adventuresome with anyone. He was the only man she wanted. After a year of waiting, she understood that now with blinding clarity. Deliberately she pressed her breasts against his broad, hard chest and immediately felt the exciting tickle of the dark, curling hair that grew in profusion on his tanned skin.
"Why should we use the rug when there's a perfectly good bed waiting just down the hall?" Garth asked, looking genuinely taken aback.
Saxon's Lady Page 4
