by Sharon Sala
God, he loved her. More than breath. More than life. And today she'd glowed. He'd never seen her that way, so confident of herself as a female rather than just a child. He had Angel to thank. When he got home, even if it tied a knot in his tongue, he was going to do just that.
Four miles from home, he topped a hill. In the distance he could see the flashing lights of an ambulance as it dipped and disappeared into the valley below. He frowned and glanced at Maddie again, thankful she was asleep. If they came on a wreck, he didn't want her to see.
He accelerated slightly, as if being in his own space would give him a sense of safety from the outside world.
Three miles, then two, then one and when he turned the curve in the road just above the ranch, his heart dropped. Damn it to hell, but that ambulance had turned down the drive to the ranch.
He thought of Angel, alone in the house. Of all the accidents that could happen. Of all the possible reasons for an ambulance call. His stomach did a flip-flop as he realized she could be hurt. The thought made him nervous, then guilty. If he'd been there, he might have prevented whatever had happened.
He turned down the driveway and topped the hill above the ranch. Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw. A wreck! Someone had run through the fence! Then he recognized the truck.
"Well, damn, Sonny French's truck. I'll lay odds he was drunk when it happened," he muttered, not realizing he'd spoken aloud.
Maddie stirred, then sat up, blinking sleepily. "Daddy, are we home?"
"Almost, sweetheart," he said. "But it looks like someone wrecked their truck in our fence. I'll have to stop and see. You stay inside, okay?"
By the time Royal rolled to a stop, Maddie was out of her seat belt and on her knees, bracing herself against the dashboard as she gazed through the windshield. She squealed.
"Daddy! Angel's in the pasture with the cattle. You told me never to get in the pasture with the cattle. You've got to go get her! Hurry!"
Royal's gaze shifted from the flashing lights of the ambulance and Sonny's wrecked truck to the pasture beyond. He could only stare in disbelief. The sight of one slender woman with a whip and a herd of milling cattle made him wonder what else she'd endured in his absence. As he watched, she raised the whip in the air. Although he couldn't hear it from here, Royal knew by the way the cattle moved that it had cracked.
"Look at her, Daddy. I didn't know Angel could do stuff like that."
"Neither did I," he said softly, then gave his daughter one last warning. "You stay in this truck and you do not get out until I say so. No matter what! Do you understand me?"
Maddie's eyes were round. "I promise, Daddy. I won't get out until you come and get me. Besides," she added, "I wouldn't want to get my new dress all dirty."
It was an amazing admission from a child who willingly shared bites of peanut butter sandwiches with a cat.
"Right," he muttered, jumped out and ran.
* * *
Angel's knee was skinned and bleeding from crawling into Sonny's truck, and her ankle was sore. She was limping, compliments of a gopher hole and an errant cow. There was fresh manure on her shoes and some mud on her shorts, but she'd done it. The ambulance was here, and not a single cow had gotten out.
The herd bull was standing between her and the herd. Every now and then he would lower his head and paw dirt, which made her nervous. The urge to run was strong, but she'd stayed this long. She wasn't going to run now. He took a couple of steps forward, then stopped and bellowed.
"Don't tell me your troubles," she muttered. "Just because you have a tail and long ears doesn't make you any different from the other males I've known, and I put the last one on the floor."
To make herself feel better, she popped the whip above her head. The loud, reassuring crack was enough to send the bull into the herd. She exhaled a shaky breath and then heard someone calling her name.
She turned. Royal was coming toward her at a lope. Relief flooded, along with the overwhelming urge to cry. He was home!
Then she froze. What in the world was wrong with her? She didn't need anyone to take care of her, and there was no need to cry.
So she watched him run toward her, and in that moment she began shaking from the sensation that she'd stood like this before, seeing the long stride of his legs and the way his body moved within his clothes. Feeling the air around her shifting to make way for his presence. Watching him silhouetted against the afternoon sun and knowing that when he reached her, her world would never be the same.
And then he was there, cupping her shoulders and staring intently into her face.
"Angel! Are you all right?"
She shaded her eyes and looked up, staring blindly into a dark, anxious gaze.
"Yes, I'm fine."
He squeezed her shoulders. The contact was brief and little more than one stranger to another, but her heart quickened as if waiting for more.
"I am so sorry you had to deal with this on your own." He moved past her to stare at the cattle.
"I managed."
It was her quiet, almost noncommittal tone that made him turn. And then he looked at her. Really looked. At the dirt smudge on the curve of her cheek and her skinned and bleeding knee. At her shoes caked with drying manure. At the mud splattered on her bare legs and the edges of her shorts.
He grinned. "Yes, ma'am, you sure as hell did." He looked at the whip. "Where'd you get the popper?"
She pointed with her chin. "Out of the back of that truck."
Royal's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "You're one resourceful lady, aren't you, Angel Rojas?"
She shrugged. "What is that old saying? Necessity is the mother of invention?"
Royal nodded, then reached for the whip. "Give it to me," he said gently. "I'll handle it from here."
She relinquished the whip with a sigh and they both turned to look at the sound of another siren.
"That would be the sheriff," Royal said. "Why don't you go crawl in the truck with Maddie where it's cool? Wait for me there. I'll drive you to the house in a while."
She nodded and started to walk away.
"Hey, Angel."
She turned.
"Good job," he said.
She blinked, then shuddered. The sensation of déjà vu was even stronger.
"Thank you," she said, and started walking.
The closer she got to the wreck, the faster she went. By the time she reached his truck, she was running, her sore ankle forgotten in her need to get away. But she didn't get in the cab with Maddie. Pointing to her muddy clothes and dirty shoes, she let down the tailgate and sat on it with her legs dangling. A few minutes later the sheriff took her version of the incident for his records, and followed the ambulance and the wrecker as they removed Sonny and what was left of his truck from the ranch. There was nothing left but a large, gaping hole in Royal's neatly strung fence.
Angel glanced at the pasture, debating with herself about going out to help. But Royal seemed to have everything under control. A couple of minutes later, a red truck topped the hill. Behind it came a shiny new blue one. Then another and another. It would seem that word had spread fast about Sonny French's latest fiasco.
Before she knew it, several men were helping Royal fix the fence. Within thirty minutes, it was over. The men left, one at a time, tipping their hats and giving her polite but curious glances as they drove away. She felt like a fly in the icing on top of a big white cake. Noticeable—and not long for this world.
And then she heard Royal's deep, husky growl as he bid the last neighbor goodbye. He was on his way to the truck. Still shaken by her earlier sensations, everything inside of her coiled as she waited for his approach. Then he was standing in front of her, frowning, and her defenses went up.
"I thought I told you to get inside where it was cool," he growled.
"I was too dirty," she said.
He glanced at her knee, where the skin was peeled. The urge to tend it was strong. Instead, he found himself pushing when he
should have been pulling back.
"Dirt washes off," he said shortly. "Next time do what I say."
Angel's chin jutted and her lips finned as she slid off the truck bed and onto her feet.
"Now you listen to me, you—you … your royal highness. It'll be a cold day in hell before I do something I think is wrong just because a man told me to do it. And if you're going to have a problem with that, then let's just consider me fired."
Having said her piece, she started down the road toward the house, leaving Royal standing in the dirt, too stunned to speak. Not since his mother, God rest her soul, had a woman ever put him so neatly in his place.
Royal highness? He clenched his jaw. She had some nerve. But as hard as he tried, he couldn't get mad. Instead, he watched in disbelief as she strode toward the ranch with her head held high and that long black braid swinging like a pendulum down the middle of her back.
"Daddy, I want to walk with Angel."
His daughter's voice yanked him out of his shock. He inhaled sharply and turned toward the truck.
"Madeline Michelle, don't lean out the damned window!" he yelled. "You'll fall on your head! And you're not walking anywhere. You don't want to get dirty, remember?"
Maddie shrugged and dropped back in her seat as Royal slid behind the wheel and started the engine.
"Let's race her," she said, pointing to Angel.
A mental image of driving past Angel and leaving her choking in their dust flashed through his mind. Royal looked at Maddie, then burst out laughing.
"Let's not," he said, then put the truck in gear. "I think I'm already in enough trouble. How about we just give her a ride?"
"Okay," Maddie said.
Royal pulled up beside Angel, letting the truck coast as he leaned out the window.
"Hey, lady, need a lift?"
Angel glared at him and stumbled when she saw the look of devilment on his face. She'd been expecting anger, not a challenge.
She stopped, forcing him to step on the brakes to stay even with her. There was nothing between them but the sound of a well-tuned engine idling smoothly.
"I can't," she finally said. "I'm fired."
He gritted his teeth, enunciating each word distinctly. "No, damn it, you're not fired."
Angel almost fainted with relief, but she'd die before she'd let it show. She waited. There was more he had to say.
Royal glanced at Maddie, who was listening to the conversation with far too much interest. He sighed and turned to Angel.
"How about if I said I was sorry?" he asked.
Her lips twitched. Her only sign of pleasure. Still she remained silent.
"Well?" Royal growled.
"Well, what?" Angel asked.
"Hell, woman, what do you want besides an apology?" There might have been cow dung on her shoes and blood on her leg, but she wasn't lacking in attitude.
"The apology would do nicely … if I'd heard it. All I heard you ask was, would I like you to say you were sorry. I didn't hear you say you were sorry."
Royal didn't know whether to curse or laugh. Thinking of home-cooked meals and clean laundry, he grinned.
"My mistake," he drawled. "Miss Rojas, I am abjectly sorry for behaving in an inappropriate manner. Would you accept my most heartfelt apology?"
She snorted as she started toward the back of the truck.
"Overkill is hardly your style," she announced, and slid onto the tailgate. When she was settled safely in place, she yelled, "I'm ready."
Royal glanced in the rearview mirror. All he could see was the stiff tilt of her head and shoulders.
"Hang on," he yelled, and then accelerated gently.
They rode the rest of the way to the ranch house in silence. Even Maddie was unusually quiet. After he had parked, Royal got out, then lifted Maddie out of the seat.
"Change that pretty dress before you go out to play," he warned.
"Okay," she said, and tore into the house, leaving Royal alone with the keeper.
Angel slid off the tailgate, wincing slightly at the jolt to her ankle. Royal saw it and caught her by the arm before she could escape him.
"Easy," he said softly, when her dark eyes flashed him a warning. "I'm just trying to help."
Angel sighed and nodded. "It's been a long day."
Royal resisted the urge to sweep her into his arms and carry her into the house. He offered her an elbow to lean on. She hesitated, then took it gratefully.
"Thank you again for all you did," Royal said. Suddenly uncomfortable with the intimacy, she shrugged off his thanks.
"It happened. I was here. It was nothing," she said shortly.
"And you hurt yourself for me," Royal said. "Your ankle hurts, I think, although you don't seem to trust me enough to say so, and you have shed blood on my behalf." He pointed to her knee. "I think that deserves some special thanks."
She looked up and blushed, then looked away.
Royal stumbled. A man would need a blazing fire not to get lost in eyes that dark. And her skin—it looked like velvet, soft, brown velvet. Yep, he'd been right. That day in the rain … he should have kept on driving.
"Well, then," he mumbled. "Let's get you cleaned up, then we'll take a look at your bumps and bruises and see what we can do, okay?"
"I'm sure I'll be fine," Angel said.
Royal stopped. A frown deepened the grooves on his forehead.
"So am I," he said. "But indulge me … please."
Angel finally gave in. Not because he had weakened her resolve, but because he was so hardheaded it was easier to agree than to argue.
"Do you need any help?" Royal asked.
Angel bent, pulled off her shoes and left them on the front porch.
"No, but thank you," she said quietly.
She could feel the heat of his gaze between her shoulder blades all the way to her room. Before she opened her door, she thought about turning around just to see if he was still watching. But then she changed her mind and bolted inside. She didn't want to know.
A short while later, Angel emerged. Fresh from a shower, in clean clothes, she felt ready to tackle anything. When she walked into the kitchen, her opinion changed. Royal was waiting. Make that anything except Royal Justice, she thought. There was antiseptic on the table and a large box of Maddie's favorite bandages.
"Beauty and the Beast?" she queried, pointing to the box.
He never cracked a smile. "Maddie insisted."
"She does a lot of that," Angel said.
Royal's composure slipped, and he grinned. "Yeah, Roman says she's a lot like me. Now if you wouldn't mind, I will see to your knee and then get out of your hair."
Angel reached for the sack of cotton balls he was holding. "Oh, I can do that my—"
His fingers tightened around the plastic. "I know that," he said shortly. "Indulge me."
She sat, wishing she'd put on something other than shorts. They weren't tight, and they were completely modest, but his hands on any part of her body seemed a bit like waving a lit match over a dynamite fuse—just to see if it would catch.
Royal bent to the task, frowning as he dabbed an antiseptic-soaked swab to the wound on her knee. Even though it had happened some time ago, it was still seeping, evidence of how deep the abrasions were.
Although she hadn't moved, there was a muscle jerking above her knee. He was hurting her, and he knew it. Without thinking, he lowered his head and blew, just as he would have done for Maddie.
When his head dipped toward her knee, Angel froze, and when his breath touched her skin, whatever she had been thinking curled up and died. She groaned and he looked up, certain he'd caused her more pain.
"I'm sorry," Royal said. "It's deeper than I thought."
He was talking. She knew it because she could see his lips moving. But there was a roar in her ears that she couldn't get past. She swallowed twice, trying to think what to say, but the words wouldn't come. To save herself, she closed her eyes, blocking out the sight of his face. It was al
l that saved her.
When it came to a woman's pain, Royal was a pushover. Right or wrong, he'd been raised to believe that it was a man's duty to take care of what his father had called the weaker sex, although he had long since figured out that the only thing weaker about most women was their physical strength. When it came to endurance, they could beat a man hands down every time.
And he was living proof of that theory. Here he was, down on his knees and putting medicine on what amounted to a rather insignificant wound, and he was almost sick to his stomach. If she cried, he'd be lost.
His fingers were trembling as he gave the wound one last dab. His breath was shaky as he blew on it again. He rocked on his heels, waiting for it to dry, and reached for the box of bandages.
"Wanna pick?" he asked.
Startled by the question, Angel opened her eyes. The box of decorative bandages was in her lap. It was the icebreaker she needed. She smiled as she pulled a bandage out and handed it to him.
Royal managed a grin, opened it and pulled it out of the wrapper with a flair.
"It's Belle. Good choice."
Before he could stick it on, Maddie came running. "Let me. Let me," she cried. "I can stick it on."
Royal took one horrified look at his daughter and bolted to his feet. Her clothes, the ones she'd just put on, were dotted with fresh grass stains, and there was a dark, smelly smudge on the seat of her shorts. As she reached to take the Band-Aid, he grabbed her hands, turning them palms up and staring in disbelief.
"What the hell have you been doing?" he yelled.
A frown furrowed her forehead. "Playing with Flea Bit and Marbles," she mumbled.
"Playing what, the apocalypse?"
The analogy was over her head, which only deepened her frown.
"We wasn't playing any pocky lips. We played hide-and-seek. I won."
"I'd hate like hell to see those poor cats," he muttered, then handed Angel the Band-Aid almost as an afterthought and grabbed Maddie by the arm, intent on marching her to the bathroom to clean up.
Angel reacted before she thought. All she could see was a little girl in trouble for nothing but playing and a father who yelled before he talked. She grabbed Royal by the arm.
