"I grew up here." Devon shrugged. "Sometimes it's harder to get away than you'd expect."
"Hell, if I were you, I'd be long gone." Ordway came to stand beside her in the darkness. He rested one elbow on a fence rail and looked down at her. "Ryan told me you're marrying Saxon in a couple of weeks."
"That's right." The smell of beer on his breath was annoying. Devon wondered just how much he'd had to drink.
"I can't imagine why," Ordway said angrily. "The guy's living in the dark ages. If you don't watch out, he'll drag you back into them, too."
Devon stirred uneasily, aware of the bitterness in Phil's voice. He was clearly still smarting from his failure to convince Garth to back him and Ryan. "Garth's a little old-fashioned in some ways," she admitted, trying to be diplomatic. She understood some of Ordway's resentment. This trip had been a total waste of time for him.
"A little old-fashioned! That's putting it mildly," Ordway told her derisively. "You should have heard him this afternoon when I tried to explain our financial proposal to him. He isn't willing to take any risks at all."
"He has to be very convinced of the merits of a project before he'll commit to it," Devon explained gently. "He never rushes into things."
"He's just a dumb hick rancher who can't tell a prospectus from a stock option."
"Excuse me," Devon said coolly, her brief sympathy fading at once. "I think I'd better be getting back to the others." She turned to go but Ordway caught her wrist, pulling her to a halt. When she glanced back uneasily she saw that his expression was harsh and resentful.
"Why are you rushing back to the cowboy? Going to bed with him must be about as exciting for you as heating up a can of beans. I'll bet he knows more about riding a horse than he does about what makes a woman happy in bed. You could do a whole lot better than him."
Devon began to grow uneasy. It occurred to her that Phil Ordway was more intoxicated than she'd originally guessed. She tried to free her wrist and discovered the man had locked his fingers around it. "Mr. Ordway, please let me go," she said very firmly.
"I'm leaving for L.A. tonight," he told her a little thickly. "I told Ryan a few minutes ago that I'm not wasting any more time here in this burg. I'd be willing to do you a favor and take you with me. You don't belong here in Hawk Springs any more than I do. I can tell that just by looking at you."
"Let me go," Devon repeated, beginning to wonder if she was going to be able to end this without causing an embarrassing scene. "You've had a little too much to drink and you're angry because you couldn't sell your idea to Garth, but that's no reason for you to act this way."
"That cowboy would be madder than hell if I took you back to Los Angeles with me, wouldn't he? Serve him right. It would really teach him a lesson."
"Phil, stop it."
He forced her closer. "Yeah, it would serve him right. Nothing like running off with a man's woman to teach him he's out of his league. You're gonna like L.A., Devon. And I can guarantee I'm gonna be a whole lot more interesting in bed than that cowboy. Come here and I'll give you a sample."
Devon couldn't believe this was happening. The situation had abruptly escalated out of control. She opened her mouth to shout for assistance, simultaneously bringing her free hand up in a fist aimed at Ordway's jaw.
But he yanked fiercely on her wrist, causing her to stumble. She fell to the grass and found Ordway's hand across her mouth. Frantically she struggled in silence, kicking and clawing as Ordway tried to pin her to the ground.
"Stop it, you little spitfire. You don't know how good it's going to be. I'll show you what you've been missing. I'll also show Saxon just how stupid he is. Damn you!" This last came as Devon raked her nails across his cheek.
Devon saw the fury in Ordway's eyes and tried desperately to push him off of her. She was scrabbling in the grass for a rock or a stick or anything that could be used as a weapon when she was suddenly free. Ordway's weight was abruptly gone. She knew who her rescuer was even before she raised her eyes to his face.
"Garth!"
She struggled for breath as she watched Phil Ordway being dragged to his feet. Before she found her tongue, Garth calmly slammed a large fist into Ordway's jaw.
The man crumpled to the ground.
Eight
Two hours later Garth sprawled in majestic solitude in the sanctity of his study. He was leaning back in his chair, jacket off, collar undone, his booted feet on the desk, one fist wrapped around a glass of whiskey. The Stetson was on the couch where he'd thrown it earlier when he'd slammed into the room and shut the door behind him.
He was in a blisteringly savage mood and the whole household knew it.
The members of that household had done what members of households have traditionally done when the master is in a roaring temper. They had discreetly retreated from sight. Even the dogs had vanished after a quick, loud greeting. Bev Middleton had murmured good-night and hurried upstairs to bed as soon as Garth had stalked into the living room where she was innocently watching TV. Devon had made one weak effort to say something to Garth, but after taking a look at his face in the hall light she'd changed her mind and followed Bev up the stairs. An hour ago Ryan had returned from his task of dumping Ordway into a room at the motel on the edge of town. He hadn't paused to consult with Garth, but had retreated to his bedroom. The house was absolutely silent now and Garth had the entire downstairs to himself.
He used the isolation and the silence to contemplate the full extent of his anger. The fury he'd felt toward Ordway was still burning in him. The single blow Garth had gotten in before the rest of the guests descended on the scene hadn't been nearly enough to work off the hot rage that had exploded when he'd realized what the man was doing to Devon.
Garth would have preferred to take Phil Ordway apart limb by limb but that proved impossible, not only because a hundred people had converged on the combatants but because Devon was clinging to the fence rail looking shocked and stunned. The memory of her eyes, huge and pleading in the moonlight, sent another jolt of anger through Garth.
This time the anger was directed at himself. He took a swallow of whiskey and wondered just how much had been put at risk tonight. He'd never seen Devon look at him like that. He could just imagine what she'd been thinking. No doubt she'd been comparing him to her soft, gentlemanly city friends. Her expression had made it clear she hadn't fully realized just how uncivilized, uncultured and uncouth her future husband was until that moment.
He knew Devon had been viewing her coming marriage as a trap, one she was prepared to enter gingerly and somewhat reluctantly. Garth had been coaxing her in the direction he wanted her to go, using her year-old promise and her sense of commitment to prod her. His mouth tightened as he examined the toe of his boot through narrowed eyes. After tonight's violence Devon would no longer be just mildly skittish about the future he'd planned for her. She would probably try to abandon it altogether. He wondered when and where she would run.
Then he started wondering what she would do when he came after her. For as sure as hell, he would go after her.
Upstairs in her bedroom Devon paced barefoot across the carpet in front of the bed. The house had been unnaturally quiet since Ryan had returned. She knew Garth was still downstairs because she'd been listening intently for the sound of his footsteps in the hall. There hadn't even been a squeak from the floorboards. Was he going to spend the whole night down there?
Devon paused in front of the window and stood staring out into the darkness. She was feeling a bit calmer now. The initial shock had passed, but she still felt oddly restless and uneasy. It was as if some of the adrenaline was still flowing in her veins, seeking an outlet.
If her own body was reacting this strongly in the aftermath of the traumatic events, she could only imagine what Garth must be feeling. The rage she'd seen burning in his eyes had been frightening. She remembered wanting to run into his arms and had found herself clinging to the fence for support, instead.
No woman in her right mind went into the arms of a man whose eyes had glazed the way Garth's had after he'd flattened Ordway.
It had struck her then that Garth probably blamed her for having allowed herself to get into the ugly situation in the first place. Some, perhaps most, of the anger she'd seen in him had been directed at her.
Devon shivered and turned away from the window. She stood staring for a moment at the closed door of her room and tried to imagine what Garth was thinking.
Damn it, he had no right to blame her for what had happened.
Perhaps now that he'd had a chance to calm down she would point that fact out to him, Devon thought. Impulsively, she opened her door and went out into the hall. She was still wearing the clothes she'd worn to the barbecue except for her shoes and panty hose. Her bare feet made no sound on the stairs as she descended into the darkness below.
There was a sliver of light beneath the study door but no sound came from inside. Devon hesitated and then put her hand on the doorknob. Cautiously she pushed open the door.
Garth's eyes met hers instantly, although he didn't move from where he lounged in dangerous stillness behind the desk. The desk lamp illuminated his booted feet resting on the polished wood surface but left his face in intimidating shadow. She glanced at the drink in his hand as she quietly came into the room and shut the door behind her.
"So," Garth said, far too evenly, "one member of the household finally got up enough nerve to come downstairs." He took a swallow from his glass.
Devon stood where she was, her hands wrapped around the doorknob behind her back. She decided she needed the support. "You have to admit you were in an awesomely foul mood when we came home from the party."
"I was madder than hell."
"Yes, I got that feeling. Are you still angry or has the whiskey had some soothing effect?" Very carefully she came away from the door and went to stand in front of the desk.
"I haven't had enough whiskey to do much good yet. But I'm working on it."
"So I see."
He regarded her narrowly. "Just chalk it up to that long list you're making."
"What long list?"
"The one that has all my uncivilized manners, my unsophisticated, rural attitudes and my bad temper itemized on it."
"Oh, that list." She nodded wryly.
"What are you doing here, Devon?"
She shrugged. "What am I doing here at the ranch? You should know. You're the one who brought me here."
He slammed the empty whiskey glass down on the desk. "Damn it, don't play games with me tonight. I'm not in the mood for it. Why did you come downstairs?"
She saw the challenging glitter in his eyes and wondered at it. "I came down here to inform you that what happened tonight was not my fault and that I don't think it's fair of you to blame me. I resent it."
He blinked slowly and slid his boots off the desk. Then he got to his feet with an almost lazy movement. His eyes never left her face. "You think I'm blaming you?"
"That was the impression I got, yes." She faced him defiantly, refusing to back away from his overwhelming presence. She still had the desk between herself and Garth. That should give her some protection.
He appeared to be contemplating her remark as though the whole idea were new to him. "I suppose an objective observer might say I had reason to blame you for what happened at the Dennisons' tonight."
"Now, Garth..."
"After all," he continued ruthlessly, "it was your idea to invite Ordway to the ranch, wasn't it? Give him a chance, you said. Listen to what Ordway and Ryan have to say. Let them have a fair hearing. Maybe Ordway really knows what he's doing. Maybe he's a nice guy who will make Ryan an excellent business partner. Think about backing him financially."
Devon coughed. "Garth, you know I didn't say all that."
"Maybe not those exact words, but the end result was the same, wasn't it? Ordway shows up and the next thing I know, he's attacking my fiancée."
Devon's eyes widened. "It would never have gotten very far. For heaven's sake, Garth, there were nearly fifty people within shouting distance."
"But you weren't shouting."
Devon felt her own temper slipping. She'd come down here intending to be calm and firm and rational. Instead, she was starting to react to the aggression and frustrated hostility that was emanating from Garth. "I couldn't shout! He had his hand over my mouth."
"Why in hell did you let him get that close?"
"He just came over to where I was standing by the fence and started talking," Devon explained furiously. "He'd had too much to drink and he was very upset about the failure of his plans. He felt you hadn't given him a fair hearing."
"So he decided he'd take a little revenge on me by roughing up my woman?" Garth said very softly.
"It didn't start out that way," Devon tried to say. "He just started talking about taking me back to L.A. with him tonight. He said he thought I belonged there instead of here and he'd be glad to give me a lift."
"That piece of slime! I should have broken his neck. What the hell did you say when he made this grand offer to save you from marrying a cowboy?"
"Garth, please, you're getting irrational."
"Wrong. I was feeling irrational before you even walked through that door. I'm way beyond irrational now. What did you say when he offered to take you away with him?"
"I tried to excuse myself and return to the party."
"Tried to excuse yourself? Well, how delightfully civilized of you, Miss Ellwood. Just gave him a polite little smile and tried to excuse yourself, huh?"
"Damn it, Garth, I was trying to avoid a scene!"
"Anything to avoid a scene. Hell, yes. Mustn't have a scene. How far were you prepared to go to avoid an embarrassing scene, Devon?"
She paled and then the color surged back into her face as her fury skyrocketed. "What, exactly, are you implying Garth? That I would have let myself deliberately get mauled by Ordway just to avoid a scene?"
"All I know for sure is that you were getting mauled by Ordway when I found you." He came around the end of the desk in a swift, predatory movement that had Devon instinctively stepping backward out of the way. But he didn't stop until she found herself against the wall—literally and figuratively. Then he planted his large hands against the paneling on either side of her head, trapping her. "You know what, Devon? It didn't look to me like you were enjoying yourself."
"I wasn't!"
"Why not? Ordway's a nice, sophisticated city boy. He must know all the right moves. What went wrong?"
"Don't you dare imply I welcomed his advances. He was assaulting me, Garth!"
"Yeah, that's the impression I got, too. I saw the marks you left on his face."
"Then stop accusing me."
"Were you a little bit tempted by his offer of a lift to L.A., Devon?"
"No, damn it!"
"Are you sure? Didn't you start thinking about city lights and sophisticated apartments and Porsches and singles bars?"
"What are you trying to do, Garth?" she hissed.
"I'm trying to find out the truth. I want to know how close you are to running. I want to know if you're starting to panic and feel that there's a trap closing around you."
"Is that how you want me to think of marriage to you? As a trap?"
"Why not?" he demanded aggressively. "It will be, won't it? Think about it. You'll be stuck here at Hawk's Flight most of the time. You won't have many opportunities to wear your fancy city dresses and high heels. You'll be up at dawn and in bed at an early hour. My bed. And one of these days there'll be babies."
She flinched, not at the deliberate threat, but at the way he said it. "Is that right? You're going to accomplish that last bit all by yourself?"
"No, Devon, you're going to be right there with me, every step of the way. That's how it works out here, remember? A man and his wife work together. And they make babies together."
"I don't need an elementary sex lesson."
She stared up at him. "It occurred to me this evening, yes."
"I know. I saw the look on your face. Was that why you wandered away from the rest of us, Devon?" he asked bitterly. "Were you suddenly realizing just how trapped you might already be?"
"Why do you keep using that word?" she flung back at him.
"Trapped? Because that's the way you see yourself." He dropped his hands to her shoulders and pulled her abruptly close. "And God help me," he breathed, "it's not far from the truth. I have trapped you, Devon. Now that I've finally got you, I'm going to keep you. Don't ever try to run from me. I swear I'll come after you and bring you home. You belong here, Devon, whether you realize it or not. One of these days you'll understand."
"Will I?" But the words were left half said as he brought his mouth down on hers. Devon felt the shudder of masculine need and anticipation that went through Garth and her simmering anger began to metamorphose into something else. Her lips parted beneath the punishing, demanding kiss.
The frustrated fury that had been burning in Garth was quickly translating itself into a relentless passion that had the momentum of an avalanche behind it. Devon responded, her senses leaping to match his as he pinned her against the hard length of his body.
"Remember this," Garth said thickly as he tangled his hands in her hair. "Remember how you come alive in my arms the next time some city dude invites you to run off with him."
"I wasn't even thinking of running off, Garth." She wrapped her arms around his neck and looked up at him with eyes that were beginning to glow with the passion only he could elicit. "What's more, I resent the implication that I would run off with someone like Phil Ordway. I want an apology."
"Do you?" Garth slid his hands down to her throat. "Well, come and get your apology, Devon."
"I'd like to make you offer it on your knees," she vowed tightly.
"Feeling vengeful?" He found the laces of her tunic.
Saxon's Lady Page 12
