Against the Rules

by Linda Howard

  Cathryn shrugged, holding on to her temper with difficulty. Everything about Ricky rubbed her the wrong way lately. “I’m not trying to impress him. I’m cleaning house.”

  “Oh, come on. You’ve spent every day with him, showing him how interested you are in the ranch. It won’t make any difference. He’ll take whatever you offer him and use it for as long as he wants it, but he doesn’t offer anything of himself in return. That’s the voice of experience speaking,” she added dryly.

  Cathryn dropped the polishing cloth, her fingers clenching into fists. Whirling on Ricky, she said heatedly, “I’m getting tired of that line. I think you’re plain poison jealous. He’s never been your lover and you can’t convince me that he has. I think you’ve tried your best to get him to go to bed with you and he’s always turned you down flat, but now you’ve finally faced the fact that he never will be your lover and you can’t stand the truth.”

  Ricky sat up, her face turning pale. Cathryn tensed herself for an assault, knowing that Ricky always flared up at the least hint of opposition; but instead the other woman looked at Cathryn for a long time, her entire body taut. Then slow tears welled in her eyes. “I’ve loved him for so long,” she whispered. “Do you have any idea how I feel? I’ve waited for years, certain that he’d decide one day that it’s me he really wants; then you show up to claim your own and it’s just like he’s slammed a door in my face. Damn you, you were gone for years! You wouldn’t give him the time of day, but because you own this godforsaken ranch he’s dropped me flat so he can chase after you.”

  “Make up your mind,” Cathryn snapped. “Is he using me, or am I using him?”

  “He’s using you!” Ricky spat. “You’re not my rival; you never have been, not even when he was making love to you on riverbanks. It’s this ranch, this piece of land, that he loves! You’re nothing to him, none of us are. I’ve tried to get you to ask him about it, but you’re too much of a coward, aren’t you? You’re afraid of what he might tell you!”

  Cathryn’s lip curled. “I don’t ask for statements of commitment unless the relationship is serious.”

  “And you’re using him to let off steam?” Ricky sniped. “Does he know that?”

  “I haven’t used him for anything,” denied Cathryn, looking around for something to throw, a holdover from childhood that she stifled with difficulty.

  “I’ll just bet you haven’t!”

  Only Ricky’s departure, as abrupt as her entrance had been, saved Cathryn from a temper tantrum in the end. She stood in the middle of the floor, her breasts heaving as she tried to control her temper. She shouldn’t let Ricky upset her like that, but she had a hair-trigger temper and Ricky had always known just how to set it off. She had obtained some measure of serenity while married to David, but since returning to Texas it seemed that it had all fled. These days she was reacting simply to the signals that she received from her brain, whether to love or to fight; all her control seemed to be gone.

  She still didn’t want to see Rule, so the phone call she had that afternoon from Wanda Wallace was very welcome, especially when Wanda cheerfully reminded her of the long-standing Saturday night dances. It was Saturday, and suddenly Cathryn wanted to go. “I’ve told everyone that you’re coming,” Wanda laughed, indulging in a bit of gentle blackmail. “All the old gang will be there, in dancing shape or not, so you can’t let us down. It’ll be fun. It’s still informal, nothing fancier than a sundress at the most. We older ones tend to stay away from jeans now that our fannies are so much wider,” she said wryly.

  “It seems forever since I’ve been in a dress,” sighed Cathryn. “You’ve talked me into it. I’ll see you there.”

  “We’ll save a seat for you,” Wanda promised.

  The thought of seeing her old classmates filled Cathryn with anticipation as she showered and applied her makeup, then brushed her dark-fire hair into a loose cloud that swirled around her shoulders. The sundress she chose was simple, with wide straps that were comfortable on her shoulders, and the flaring skirt emphasized the slenderness of her waist. She clasped a gold serpentine belt around her waist and slid graceful matching bracelets onto each wrist. Dainty sandals with only a small heel completed the outfit. She made a face at herself in the mirror. In that innocent white dress she looked like a teenager again.

  She popped into the kitchen to inform Lorna of her destination and the cook nodded. “Do you good to socialize some. Why don’t you pick one of those gardenia blossoms off the bush in front and put it behind your ear? I’m partial to gardenias,” she said dreamily.

  Wondering what past romance had been associated with gardenias, Cathryn obediently plucked one of the creamy white blossoms and held it to her nose for a moment to inhale the incredibly sweet scent. She anchored it behind her ear and returned to the kitchen to show Lorna the result, and the older woman indicated her approval. With Lorna’s admonition to drive carefully following her, she went out to the station wagon and slid behind the wheel, glad that she had avoided catching even a glimpse of Rule all day long.

  The dance had been held at the community center for as long as she could remember. It was a fairly large building, able to accommodate a crowd of dancers, enough tables and chairs for those who wished to sit, a live band on a raised stage, and a small refreshment center that sold soft drinks to the younger dancers and beer to the older ones. The teenagers had little chance of getting a beer because everyone knew everyone else, so they had no hope of lying about their ages. There already was a respectable crowd when Cathryn arrived and she had to park the station wagon at the far end of the lot, but even before she was able to reach the building she was being hailed by former classmates, and she finally entered at the center of a noisy, laughing group.

  “Over here!” she heard Wanda call, and looked around until she saw her friend stretched on tiptoe and waving frantically. Cathryn waved back and made her way through the milling crowd until she reached Wanda’s table, where she dropped thankfully into the chair that had been saved for her.

  “Whew!” she laughed. “I must be older than I thought! Just getting through the crowd has tired me out.”

  “You don’t look tired,” a dark-haired man said admiringly, leaning across the table to her. “You still look like the charmer who broke my heart back in junior high.”

  Cathryn looked at him with intense concentration, trying to place him among her classmates and utterly failing. Then his lopsided smile fell into place in her memory and she said warmly, “Glenn Lacey! When did you come back to Texas?” His family had left Texas when she was still in junior high, so she had never thought to see him again.

  “When I finished law school. I decided that Texas needed the benefit of my wisdom,” he teased.

  “Don’t pay any attention to him,” advised Rick Wallace, Wanda’s husband. “All that education has addled his wits. Do you recognize everyone else?” he asked Cathryn.

  “I think so,” she said, looking around the table. Her special friend Kyle Vernon was there with his wife, Hilary, and she hugged both of them. She remembered again that it had been the fond prediction of both Ward Donahue and Paul Vernon that their children would get married to each other when they grew up, but the childhood friendship had remained friendship and neither of them had ever been romantically interested in the other. Pamela Bowing, a tall brunette who concealed a genius for mischief behind a languorous demeanor, had been Cathryn’s best friend in high school, and they had an enthusiastic reunion. Pamela was with a man Cathryn didn’t recognize, and he was introduced as Stuart McLendon, from Australia. He was visiting the area while he studied Texas ranching. That left Glenn Lacey as the only unattached male, which automatically paired him with Cathryn. She was happy enough with that arrangement, because she had liked him when they were younger and saw no reason now to change her opinion.

  They tried to catch up on old gossip for a time, but the band was in full swing and they gave up the effort. Wanda grimaced at the whirling crowd. “Since t
he Texas swing has become popular it’s gotten harder and harder to get the band to play nice, slow, dreamy numbers,” she complained. “And before that, it was disco!”

  “You’re showing your age,” Rick teased her. “We didn’t dance nice, slow, dreamy numbers when we were in school.”

  “I wasn’t the mother of two monsters when we were in school, either!” she retorted. But regardless of what she thought of the current style of dancing, she took his hand and led him onto the dance floor. Within minutes the table was empty, and Cathryn was naturally still paired with Glenn Lacey. He was tall enough that she felt comfortable dancing with him. His technique was smooth and easy to follow and he didn’t bother with any fancy steps. He simply held her firmly, but not so closely that she would have protested, and they moved in time with the music.

  “Are you back to stay?” he asked.

  She looked up into his friendly blue eyes and smiled. “I don’t know yet,” she said, not wanting to go into the whole story.

  “Any reason why you shouldn’t stay? The ranch is yours, isn’t it?”

  He seemed to be the only one who realized that, and the smile she flashed him reflected her appreciation. “It’s just that I’ve been away for such a long time. I have a life and friends in Chicago now.”

  “I was away for a long time, too, but Texas was always home.”

  She shrugged. “I haven’t decided yet. But I don’t have any immediate plans to return to Chicago.”

  “That’s good,” he said easily. “I’d like to give you a chance to break my heart again, if you don’t mind.”

  She threw back her head and laughed up at him. “That’s a good line! When did I break your heart, anyway? You moved away before I was old enough to begin dating.”

  He considered that and finally said, “I think it began when I was twelve and you were about ten. You were a shy little thing with huge dark eyes, and you aroused my protective instincts. By the time you were twelve I was hooked for good. I never was able to get away from those big eyes of yours.”

  His eyes were twinkling as he told her of his youthful infatuation and they were able to laugh together, remembering the painful and awkward loves that everyone developed in adolescence.

  “Wanda told me that you’re a widow,” he said gently a moment later.

  She never failed to feel a twinge of grief at the thought of David, and her dark lashes swept down to cover the sadness in her eyes. “Yes. My husband died over two years ago. Have you married?”

  “Yes, while I was still in college. It didn’t last through law school. Nothing very traumatic,” he said with his charmingly crooked smile. “It couldn’t have been a lasting love because we just drifted apart and divorced without any of the bitter fights that seem almost mandatory. We had no children or property to fight over, so we just signed the papers, collected our clothing, and that was it.”

  “And no special friends since then?”

  “A couple,” he admitted. “Again, nothing lasting. I’m in no hurry. I’d like to get my practice established before I begin seriously looking for a wife, so it’ll be another few years.”

  “But you definitely want a wife?” she asked, a little amazed at such an attitude. Most single men she knew, especially those who had been through a divorce, had definite ideas about avoiding marriage again and living life in the fast lane instead.

  “Sure. I want a wife, kids, the whole bit. I’m domesticated,” he admitted. “I’d probably take the plunge now if I met the woman who gave me that special zing, but so far I haven’t found her.”

  Cathryn was relieved to find out that he hadn’t felt that special zing with her, and the knowledge left her totally relaxed in his presence. He looked on her as a friend, not a romantic interest, which was exactly what she wanted. Because of that she danced several dances with him and returned to the table in desperate need of something cold to drink.

  “I’ll do the honors,” said Kyle Vernon. “Any of you ladies want a beer?”

  None of the women did, opting instead for soft drinks, and he pushed his way into the crowd. Despite the number of people there he returned in five minutes with a tray on which were crowded long-necked bottles of beer and the requested cans of cola. The time passed pleasantly as they talked and occasionally traded dance partners. Glenn asked Cathryn out to dinner for the following weekend and she accepted, certain that by then she would go crazy without the prospect of some time away from Rule’s territory.

  It was growing late and she was dancing with Glenn again, the crowd having thinned out because some people had started to leave, when she found herself staring straight across the room into Rule’s dark eyes. He was standing well back, not talking with anyone, and she felt the heat of his gaze on her. Startled, she got the feeling that he had been standing there for some time, watching her as she danced with Glenn. His face wore that hard, expressionless mask. Casually she looked away from him and continued dancing. So he was here. So what? She had done nothing to feel guilty about.

  Within fifteen minutes everyone was making preparations to call it a night. As she was saying good-night to her friends, she felt long fingers wrap themselves around her arm and she knew that touch, knew who held her arm before she turned to look at him.

  “I need to beg a ride back to the ranch,” he said softly. “One of the men came with me and he’s borrowed my truck.”

  “Certainly,” Cathryn agreed. What else could she do? She didn’t doubt that he had loaned his pickup out, though she did wonder how long he’d had to hunt to find someone to loan it to. None of that really mattered, though. Within seconds she was walking down the long expanse of the parking lot with him by her side, his hand still warm on her elbow.

  “I’ll drive,” he said, taking the keys from her hand as she started to unlock the door. Without protest she got in and slid over to the passenger side of the car.

  He drove in silence, his hard-planed features revealing nothing in the dim lights glowing from the dash. Cathryn looked up at the thin sliver of moon in its last quarter now, and she remembered the full silvery light that had bathed the bed when he had made love to her. The memory ignited a slow-burning flame in her body and she moved in involuntary response. If only she wasn’t so aware of him sitting beside her! She could smell the warm, excitingly delicious male scent of him, and she recalled in frustrating detail just how it felt to be clasped against him in the timeless movements of lovemaking.

  “Stay away from Glenn Lacey.”

  The low, raspy growl startled her, tore her from her sensual dreams, and she stared at him. “What?” she demanded, though she knew that she had understood him perfectly.

  “I said I don’t want you going out with Glenn Lacey,” he obliged her by explaining more fully. “Or any other man, for that matter. Don’t think that just because I agreed to stay out of your bed I’ll stand by and watch you let someone else into it.”

  “If I want to go out with him, I will!” she said defiantly. “Who do you think you are, talking to me as if I’m in the habit of jumping into bed with any man who asks me? We’re not engaged, Rule Jackson, and you have no right to tell me who I can see.”

  She saw his jaw tighten, and he snapped, “You may not have my ring on your finger, but you’re a fool if you think I’ll pretend there’s nothing between us. You’re mine, Cathryn Donahue, and I don’t let anyone trespass on what’s mine.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Cathryn was almost paralyzed by a confusing surge of mingled pleasure and rage. She was delighted that he might be jealous, but then her inevitable response to his arrogant manner overwhelmed her sense of pleasure and she lashed back at him. “You don’t own me, and you never will!”

  “Do you feel secure in that little dream world you’ve built?” he asked with silky menace, and the tone of his voice was a warning. She fell silent, and nothing more was said during the drive to the ranch.

  Despite, or perhaps because of, the silence, the atmosphere between them became heavy with
hostility and a growing sensual awareness. Just that afternoon she had thought herself so angry and disillusioned with him that he couldn’t tempt her any longer but already she was discovering how deeply in error that assumption had been. She couldn’t even glance at him now without being reminded of the moonlight on his face as he had made love to her, without tasting his mouth in memory or reliving the strong rhythm of his movements.

  When he pulled the car up by the steps to the house, she was out of the vehicle before the tires had stopped rolling. She hurried up the steps and through the kitchen almost at a run, hearing the thudding of his bootheels echoing behind her as he followed. The house was dark, but she knew her home and moved swiftly through the darkness, wanting to reach the safety of her room and shut him out. But it was his home, too, and she was only halfway up the stairs when the force of his body knocked her off-balance and she was swept entirely off her feet by a hard arm that passed around her waist and lifted her like a child.

  “Put me down!” she whispered, kicking backward in an effort to trip him as she disregarded their precarious position on the stairs. He grunted as she made painful contact with his shin, just above his boot top. Shifting his hold on her, he slid his other arm under her knees and lifted her up against his chest. She could see only the shadowy form of his face as it came closer and she demanded once more, “Rule! Put me down!” There was no answer, and when she tried to protest again he cut her off by clamping his mouth on hers in a hot, rough kiss that bruised her lips and set drums to thundering in her veins.

  The darkness and his movements confused her, left her feeling disoriented as he removed his arm from beneath her knees and let her body slide downward against his, all the while keeping his hungry, bruising mouth fused to hers. Cathryn shivered as she felt the burgeoning proof of his virility brush against her; then his hand cupped her bottom and pulled her firmly in to him, branding her through the layers of their clothing with the heat and power of his desire.