by Janet Dailey
When the bay horse slowed to a walk, Valerie wasn't aware that it was responding to her pressure on the reins. They entered a stand of trees and she ducked her head to avoid a low-hanging branch. When she straightened, it was in a clearing. Her fingers tightened on the reins, stopping the bay, as the blood drained from her face.
Unconsciously she had guided the mare to the place where she and Judd had met. From a long-ago habit, she dismounted and wound the reins around the broken branch of a tree. The mare lowered her head, blew at the grass and began to graze.
Almost in a trance, Valerie looked around her. The place hadn't seemed to change very much. The grass looked taller and thicker, promising a softer bed. She tore her gaze from it and noticed that lightning had taken a large limb from the oak tree some time ago.
Wrapping her arms tightly around her stomach, she tried to assuage the hollow ache. There was a longing for Judd so intense that it seemed to eat away at her insides. She wanted to cry from the joy she had once known here and the heartache that had followed, but no tears came.
It was crazy—it was foolish—it was destroying to want him. She was so successful at stimulating his lusty appetite, why hadn't she ever been able to arouse his love, she wondered. She was so filled with love that she thought she would explode.
The bay mare lifted her head, her ears pricking. Her sides heaved with a long, questioning whicker. Then the soft swish of grass behind her made Valerie turn as a big gray horse stopped at the edge of the clearing and Judd dismounted. He walked toward her with smooth, unhurried strides like a page from the past. Her heart lodged somewhere in the vicinity of her throat. She was unable to speak, half-afraid that she might discover she was dreaming.
But his voice was no dream: "I knew you'd come here sooner or later." Neither was the smoldering light in his green eyes as he came closer.
The instant he touched her, Valerie was convinced it wasn't a dream and she knew she didn't dare stay. "It was an accident," she insisted, her breath quickening. "I didn't mean to come here."
She tried to push out of his arms and make her way past him, but a sinewed arm hooked her waist and pulled her against his side. A muscled thigh brushed her legs apart to rub against her, while the hand at the small of her back pressed her close to him. His fingers cupped the side of her face and lifted it for inspection.
"Ever since the day you returned, I knew you would eventually come here." His gaze roamed possessively over her features. "You can't fight it any more than I can. It's always been that way with us."
"Yes." Her whispered agreement carried the throb of admission.
As his mouth descended on hers, Valerie realized his persistence had finally eroded her resolve. The surroundings, her love, the feel of him were more than she could withstand and she surrendered to the pulsing fire of his embrace.
Her lips parted under the insistence of his. His practiced hands molded her more fully against his length, but this closeness only heightened-their mutual dissatisfaction with their upright position.
Burying his face in the curve of her neck, Judd swept her into his arms and carried her the few feet to the grassy nest. Kneeling, he laid her upon it, lifting the heavy mass of tawny hair and fanning it above her head. Her hands were around his neck to pull him down beside her, part of his weight crushing her.
"I've waited a long time to see that honey cloud of hair on that green pillow." His husky voice vibrated with passion. "And to see that love-drugged look in your cat eyes."
His mouth kissed the hollow of her throat as his skilled fingers unbuttoned her blouse. His hand wandered over the bareness of her waist and taut stomach. Its leisurely pace sent a languorous feeling floating through her limbs. His mouth trailed a fiery path to intimately explore the rounded softness of her breast. Her nails dug into the rippling muscles of his back and Judd brought his hard lips back to hers. More of his weight moved onto her.
He rubbed his mouth against the outline of her lips. "There were times when I wondered whether I had the control or the patience to wait for you to come here," he admitted. "I knew you'd been hurt and used badly. But I was also positive that I could make you forget the man who got you pregnant and ran off."
"Forget?" Her breathless laugh was painful and bitter, because he had made her forget. With a twist, she rolled from beneath him and staggered to her feet, shakily buttoning her blouse. "How could I forget?" The questioning statement was issued to herself. "You are that man, Judd."
Stunned silence greeted her tautly spoken announcement. Then Valerie heard him rise and a steel claw hooked her elbow to spin her around. A pair of blazing green eyes burned into her face.
"What are you saying?" Judd ground out savagely.
"You're Tadd's father," she informed him with flashing defiance. "I was almost three months pregnant when I left here seven years ago. Granddad threw me out because I wouldn't tell him who the father was. It was you…you and your damned virility!"
"If it's true, why didn't you come to me seven years ago and tell me you were pregnant?" Judd demanded.
"If it's true?" Valerie repeated with a taunting laugh. "You just answered your own question, Judd. You're the one and only man who has ever made love to me. But to you, I was just a cheap little tramp."
"That isn't true," he denied.
"Isn't it?" she mocked. "Why should I have endured the humiliation of telling you and have you question whether you were responsible?"
"I would have helped you," Judd replied grimly.
"What would you have done?" Valerie challenged. "Given me money for an abortion? Or paid me hush money to keep quiet about your part in it? You made me feel small enough without taking money from you."
"I never guessed you felt that way." A muscle in his jaw was flexing.
"I don't think you ever considered the possibility that I had feelings," she retorted. "I'm a human being with feelings and a heart, Judd. I'm not made of stone like you. Look—I even bleed." She scratched her nails across the inside of her arm, tiny drops of red appearing in the welts.
He caught at the hand that had marked her. "You crazy little fool!" he growled, and yanked her into his arms, crushing her tightly against him, the point of his chin rubbing the top of her head.
For an instant Valerie let herself enjoy the hard comfort of his arms before she rebelled. "Let me go, Judd." She strained against his hold. "Haven't you done enough?"
He partially released her, keeping one arm firmly around her shoulders as he drew her along with him. "Come on."
"No!" She didn't know where he was taking her. Stopping in front of the bay mare, Judd lifted her into the saddle. "I'm taking you back," he said, and handed her the reins.
"I can find my own way," she retorted. "I always did before."
His hand held the mare's bridle, preventing Valerie from reining her away. "This time I'm going with you," he stated.
"Why?" Valerie watched him with a wary eye when he walked to the big gray.
Judd didn't respond until he had mounted and ridden the high-stepping gray over beside her. "I'd like to have another look at my son."
Her fingers tightened on the reins and the mare tossed her head in protest. "Tadd is mine. You merely fathered him. He's mine, Judd," she warned.
He didn't argue the point and instead gestured for her to lead the way to her grandfather's farm, one that Judd now owned. They cantered in silence, their horses skittish and nervous, picking up the tenseness of their riders.
Tadd had awakened from his nap when they arrived. He didn't rush out to greet Valerie, but remained sitting on the porch step, sulking because she had gone riding without him. Valerie was nervous as she walked to the house with Judd. Tadd was no longer just another little boy to him. He was his son, and Judd's green eyes were studying, inspecting and appraising the small boy.
"Did you have a good nap, Tadd?" Valerie asked with forced brightness.
"Why didn't you wait until I was up and take me for a ride?" he pouted.
&n
bsp; "Because I wanted to go by myself," she answered, and promised, "You and I can go later this afternoon."
"Okay," Tadd sighed, accepting the alternative, and glanced at Judd. "Hello. How come you were riding if Mom wanted to be by herself?"
"We happened to meet each other while I was on my way here," Judd explained easily, his attention not wavering from Tadd's face.
"Were you coming over here to tell those men to go away?" Tadd wondered. "There hasn't been any man outside Mommy's window since that other day. But one of them gave me a brush—I'll show you." In a flash, he was on his feet and darting to the far end of the porch.
Judd slid a brief glance in Valerie's direction. "Have you told him anything about…his father?" he asked quietly.
"No." She shook her head.
But his voice hadn't been pitched so softly that Tadd hadn't picked up a piece of the conversation. He came back, holding up a worn-out brush that had not been used in some time. The bristles were stiff and broken.
As he showed it to Judd, he glanced up. "I don't have a father. Do you?"
Judd's dark head lifted in faint surprise. Valerie couldn't tell whether it was from Tadd's directness or the acuteness of his hearing. Bemusement softened the corners of the hard male mouth.
"Yes, I had one, but he died a long time ago," Judd admitted, and tipped his head to one side to study Tadd more closely as he asked, "Did your father die?"
"No. I don't have a father," Tadd repeated with childlike patience. "Some kids don't, you know," he informed Judd with blinking innocence. "Three of the kids I go to school with don't have dads. Of course, Cindy Tomkins has two." He lost interest in that subject. "It's a pretty neat brush, isn't it?"
"It sure is," Judd agreed.
"I wanted to help them paint, but they said I couldn't. They said I was too little." Tadd's mouth twisted, his expression indicating it was a statement he had heard many times before. "I'll be seven on my next birthday. That isn't too little, is it?"
"I think you have to be ten years old before you can be a painter," Judd told him.
Valerie's nerves were wearing thin. There wasn't much more of this conversation she could tolerate. Judd had seen Tadd again and talked to him. Surely that was enough?
"Tadd, why don't you run into the house and see if there's a carrot in the refrigerator for Ginger. I think she'd like one," she suggested.
"Okay." He started to turn and stopped. "Can I feed it to her?"
"Of course," she nodded, and he was, off, slamming the screen door and tearing through the house to the kitchen. Feeling the scrutiny of Judd's eyes, her gaze slid from his direction.
"He isn't too familiar with the birds and the bees, is he?" Judd commented dryly. "Some children don't have a father," he repeated Tadd's statement. "Is that what you told him?"
"No, it's a conclusion he's reached all on his own. He has a general idea about the birds and the bees, but he hasn't comprehended the significance of it," Valerie admitted, a shade defensively.
"What are you going to do when he does?" His level gaze never wavered from her. "What will you tell him when he asks about his father?"
"When he's old enough to ask the question, he'll be old enough to understand the truth," she retorted, knowing it was a day she didn't look forward to.
The sound of racing feet approached the porch in advance of the screen door banging open. "I got the carrot!" Tadd held it up. "Can I give it to Ginger now?"
At the nod from Valerie, Tadd started down the porch steps. As he went past Judd, he was cautioned, "Remember, Tadd, walk up to the horse."
With a carefree, "I will!" Tadd raced full speed halfway across the yard, then stopped to walk the rest of the way to the pasture fence where the bay mare was tied. Valerie watched him slowly feed the gentle mare.
"I feel that I owe you something for these last seven years," Judd said.
"You don't owe me anything." She shrugged away the suggestion, the idea stinging.
"I mean it, Valerie. I want to take care of you and Tadd," he stated in a firm tone.
The full fury of her sparkling eyes was directed at him. "I wouldn't take your money then, Judd, and I won't take it now."
Instead of being angry, Judd looked amused by her fiery display. His gaze ran over her upturned face, alight with temper and pride.
"Tigress," he murmured. "All this doesn't change anything."
Unable to hold that look, Valerie glanced away. She seemed incapable of resisting him, but she tried anyway. "Yes, it does."
"Valerie." His voice commanded her attention. When she didn't obey, his fingers caught her chin and turned her to face him. "It isn't any use fighting it."
"I've made up my mind, Judd," she insisted stiffly. "I won't be your lover. Please! Just leave me alone."
His mouth slanted in amusement. "Do you think I haven't tried?" he mocked, and kissed her hard. When he straightened, he murmured, "And tell that battle-ax that it's impolite to eavesdrop." With that, he turned and walked across the yard to where the gray hunter was standing next to Valerie's mare.
The screen door opened and Clara stepped out. "Humph!" she snorted. "So it's impolite to eavesdrop, is it? What do you suppose they call what he was proposing?"
"You shouldn't have been listening," Valerie said, and continued to watch Judd, who had stopped to say goodbye to Tadd.
"You shouldn't carry on private conversations where people can overhear," Clara retorted. "So you decided to tell him he was the boy's father, did you?"
"Yes," Valerie admitted.
"What do you suppose he's going to do about it?"
"There isn't anything he can do. Tadd is mine. Judd knows that," Valerie insisted.
"Mark my words, he'll figure out a way to use it to his advantage. Judd Prescott is a tenacious man." There was a hint of admiration in Clara's voice as they both watched him ride away.
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Chapter Seven
JUDD CAME OVER twice more that week, ostensibly to check on the progress of the painting crew, but that possessive light was in his eyes whenever his gaze met Valerie's. It held a warning or a promise, depending on her mood at the time. His attitude toward Tadd remained relatively casual, a little more interested and occasionally warmer at different moments.
Valerie was in the kitchen helping Clara wash the breakfast dishes when a car drove into the yard. The painting crew had finished the day before, so she knew it wasn't one of them. As she walked to the front door, she wiped her hands dry on the towel and wondered if the lawyer, Jefferson Burrows, had more papers for her to sign.
Judd's visits had always been made on horseback. It didn't occur to her that the car might be driven by him. Not until she saw him step out. Tadd was outside playing and immediately stopped what he was doing to rush forward to greet Judd.
After sending one green-eyed glance toward Valerie standing on the porch, Judd directed his attention to the boy skipping along beside him. His hair gleamed jet black in the sunlight, with Tadd's a lighter hue.
"Do you have anything planned to do today?" Judd asked him.
"Mom and me are going riding later on," Tadd answered after thinking for a minute.
"That's something you could do tomorrow if you have a place to visit today, isn't it?" Judd suggested, and Valerie felt a tiny leap of alarm.
"I guess so," Tadd agreed, then frowned. "But we don't have a place to visit." The frown lifted. "How come you drove a car? Are you going to take us someplace?"
"I might," was the smiling response.
"Tadd, come into the house and wash your hands!" Valerie called sharply.
With a gleeful expression, Tadd came bounding to the porch hopping excitedly from one foot to the other. "Mom, did you hear? Judd said he might take us someplace."
"Yes, I heard what he said." She sent Judd an angry look and attempted to smile at her son. "Go into the house and wash your hands as you were told."
"Find out where we're going!" Tadd called over his
shoulder, and hurried into the house.
Descending the porch steps, Valerie walked out to confront Judd. "Why did you tell Tadd we might be going someplace with you?" she demanded angrily. "It isn't fair to raise a little boy's hopes up like that."
"Why?" He returned her look with feigned innocence. "I came over to ask you and Tadd to spend the day with me. There's a tobacco auction over by Lothian, probably one of the last of the season. I thought Tadd might find it interesting."
"I'm sure he would find it very interesting, but we aren't going," she stated flatly. "And you shouldn't have let Tadd think we would."
"How did I know you'd refuse?" He smiled lazily. "I hadn't even asked you yet when I mentioned it to him."
"You knew very well I'd refuse!" she snapped.
"Temper, temper, little spitfire," Judd taunted.
"Of course I'm angry," Valerie argued defensively. "You've made me the villain as far as Tadd is concerned."
"You could always change your mind and agree to come with me," he reminded her.
"You know I won't."
"Yes, you will." His level gaze became deadly serious. "Otherwise I'll have to have a talk with Tadd and tell him who his father is."
Valerie paled. "You wouldn't do that!" she protested. "He wouldn't understand. He'd be hurt and confused. You wouldn't be that ruthless?
"I'll have my way, Valerie." It wasn't an idle warning. "Will you come or shall I have a talk with Tadd?"
Tears burned the back of her eyes and she bit the inside of her lip to keep it from quivering. She had known he was hard, and not above using people to get what he wanted, and he'd already made it plain that he wanted her.
"If I agree to come, will you give me your word to say nothing to Tadd about being his father?" she demanded tightly.
"You have my word," Judd agreed, "if you come."
"I…I'll need a few minutes to change my clothes," Valerie requested.
His skimming gaze conveyed the message that he preferred her without any, but he said, "Take all the time you need. I'll be waiting."
Frustrated, Valerie ground out, "You can wait until hell freezes over and it still won't do any good." Pivoting on her heel, she rushed into the house.
