by Brenda Joyce
He tossed his poncho and bedroll at her. She caught them reflexively. He would not look at her. His expression was strained. "Let's get out of here before you do get pneumonia."
Regina did not have the strength or the will to argue. Trembling, she wrapped the blanket around her and awkwardly slipped on his poncho. The slicker was lined and toasty-warm. It smelled strongly of him. She hugged it and the blanket to her body.
When Regina stepped forward, her knees gave way and she fell against Slade with a whimper. Her feet were raw from the endless walking she had endured. Instantly Slade was kneeling before her and yanking off her shoes. Regina cried out.
"Jesus," he said tightly. "You must hate me a hell of a lot to keep on going with blisters like these."
"No," she whispered, very close to tears. She spoke to the top of his head. "I don't hate you."
If he heard her he gave no sign. He hoisted her into his arms and strode into the night. The rain whipped them fiercely, the wind howled, and the trees danced in a helpless frenzy around them. Slade deposited her on his mount and jumped up into the saddle behind her.
Abruptly he lifted her crossways onto his lap and pushed her face into his shoulder. "Hold on," he said, shouting to make himself heard over the wind, one arm firmly around her waist.
He didn't have to repeat himself. She buried her cheek against his bare chest, wrapping her arms around him, wondering if the night would ever end. She tried not to think about what had happened-and what had not happened. She tried not to be aware of the warm, strong man gripping her as tightly as she gripped him. It was impossible. He spurred his horse into a canter and then they galloped into the storm, back to Miramar.
Slade carried Regina through the courtyard in the pouring rain. She was protected by his slicker, he was not. Now he was drenched, his hair sticking to his head, water running in rivulets down his arms and chest, his vest heavy and sodden, his pants plastered to his legs.
Rick appeared at the door that led from the dining room. "You found her!" he cried in relief.
Slade didn't stop. "I found her," he said. He moved with aggressive strides toward her room, mindless of the rain, which was coming down now harder than before.
Victoria came to stand by her husband. "Is she all right?"
"Soaked. Have Lucinda draw a bath and bring her some hot food."
"Slade!" Victoria called. "You can't go into her room with her!"
Slade didn't acknowledge her comment. He disappeared into Regina's bedroom carrying her in his arms.
Victoria started to go after them.
"Don't you dare," Rick said, gripping her arm.
"Ow! You're hurting me!"
Rick did not release her. "Why did you do it? Why did you interfere?"
Her eyes widened innocently. "Do what?"
"Cut it out!" He shook her. "Slade told me it was you. You told Elizabeth of my plans." “You're hurting me," Victoria said calmly.
"Let her go, Father," Edward said. He moved out of the shadows of the hallway.
Rick released his wife. “Your mother's meddling in my affairs again."
"So I gather," Edward said, unsmiling. His glance was on Victoria. "Why, Mother? Why are you trying to obstruct Father?"
"I'm not trying to sabotage your father!" Victoria cried. "I'm only trying to look out for all of our best interests!"
Rick laughed.
Edward grimaced. "Mother, I know you are doing what you think is best, but it's time we spoke freely. I am not going to take Miramar away from Slade. I don't even want it. Slade is now Father's heir. Slade is going to marry Elizabeth and inherit the rancho. Not me."
"Why not?" Victoria cried furiously. "Why the hell not? You're here. You've been here your entire life, working alongside Rick and James. Why should Slade be the chosen one! Why him? He left his home ten years ago, turned his back on all of us. He hasn't even bothered to come home more than three or four times in all those years. Do you know it's been two years since he was last home? And if James hadn't died, God knows, maybe he would have never come home again!"
"He would have come home," Edward said.
"What's the point of all this speculation?" Rick asked. "He's home now, ain't he? He's the oldest. He's the oldest like I was the oldest. It’s our way, Victoria, and you knew it when you married me."
"He doesn't want to marry her," Victoria gritted. "He only wants to get into her drawers-and that's certainly continuing one family tradition!"
Edward smiled slightly. "Who the hell wants to get married anyway? You can't blame Slade for that. You can't blame him, but maybe if you gave him some time he'd come around. I think he would."
"We don't have time," Rick growled.
"Even if he never marries her, he's still the oldest," Edward pointed out. "Miramar would still rightfully be his. My vote is in, Mother." With that, he turned and walked away.
Victoria was speechless.
"Edward's right, at least on the last point. I don't want you butting in," Rick said coldly.
"Do you really think I should just stand by and watch while you give that ingrate everything you've worked so hard for? When you have another son, a worthy one, one who didn't run away and turn his back on all of us? On you?"
"If I find out you've interfered again, I'm going to toss you out on your ass, Victoria."
She looked at him for a long moment, assessing his intentions, then she smiled. "You won't."
"Oh, no? You think your acrobatics in bed are going to stop me?"
For a moment Victoria appeared uncertain. Then she said, smiling, "You won't throw me out, Rick. You may despise me, but you need me. Nobody understands you the way that I do, and certainly not another woman. And I am not referring to our sex life."
"Maybe that's the problem," Rick said, his smile threatening. "Maybe that's the real crux of it, Victoria."
She stared.
Rick grinned, enjoying his power.
But Victoria recovered quickly. "Edward is also your son. Edward did not turn his back on you. Edward, if you asked him, would do everything you want. Slade will never, ever do anything if you want him to, as you damn well know."
Rick looked at her. "For the last time, you stay out of this. Slade is going to marry Elizabeth, and he is going to inherit Miramar. Slade will bend. This time, he is going to do what I want, you wait and see."
Chapter 8
Slade deposited Regina abruptly on the bed.
She bounced once on the soft mattress and settled into its thickness and warmth. She lay unmoving, staring up at him.
His expression was blank. She sat up, then remembered her state of undress, and she quickly pulled the coverlet over her. The cold, wet, wild ride had chased away the insanity which had possessed her. She was still too aware of him, and she could not forget what had almost happened, but she was in control of her faculties once more. "I don't think you should
be in here."
"You're right. This is the last place I should be." He did not move.
She looked at the water running down his face, his vest, his naked chest and perfectly flat stomach. His dark skin had a sheen to it. She lifted her gaze. She was in control of herself, but his presence was too potent and too unnerving. Especially here in her bedroom. "Now you'll catch pneumonia." She laughed uneasily.
"I'm tough. I've survived a hell of a lot worse." Abruptly he flicked the ends of the coverlet off her feet. "That wasn't smart," he said tightly. "You've got a dozen blisters all broken and bleeding. Don't you have any common sense? After your bath take some gauze and antiseptic and wrap your feet up. Stay off of them."
"All right." She looked at the door, which was closed. "I think you should leave, before I'm compromised."
His glance was hard. "I'm not going to compromise you, Elizabeth. If that were my intention, we'd still be down-valley. Tomorrow I'll take you to the Southern Pacific. If I'd known how determined you were to leave, I would have agreed to your leaving when you spoke of it earlier."
His last words made her feel guilty, nonsensically so. He was interpreting her attempt to run away as a personal indictment of him. But wasn't he right? Hadn't it been a very personal indictment? And why should she be upset that his feelings might be hurt? He did not act hurt. In fact, he acted as if nothing untoward had happened between them. "Tomorrow you'll take me to town?" she asked uncertainly.
"Unless you'd rather someone else take you. Like Edward-my gentlemanly brother."
She blushed. Slade hadn't been a gentleman half an hour ago, but he had rescued her-again. And she seemed to have a weak spot for him, regardless of what he said and did. She also did not like it when he mocked himself. "I understand what you were trying to do," she said softly. "I was just… shocked… at the time."
"Why are you trying to spare me? You were right. Don't mince words now. I'm no gentleman and I never will be. I don't even aspire to being one. And you are obviously a lady. To tell you the truth, I don't have the foggiest notion of how to act around you." He flushed.
"No."
"You're not a lady?" His mouth curved slightly.
It was the very first sign of a sense of humor that she had witnessed in him and she smiled. "Of course I'm a lady." Her smile faded. "Slade, I'm sorry I said that. It's not true. You have a rough appearance, but you are very much a gentleman, and there is nothing wrong with your behavior around me."
His mouth tightened. He was no longer amused. "I can swear on the Bible that I didn't have a single gentlemanly thought in my head a few minutes ago, and my behavior was just about borderline."
She opened her mouth to reply, and shut it. What could she say? Her thoughts hadn't been exactly ladylike, either. In fact, they were becoming less ladylike by the second. Had his behavior been borderline? Hers had certainly been worse. Finally she whispered, "We can't always stop our thoughts, but we can control our actions. That is what's important."
He gave her a dark look. It was challenging and skeptical.
Regina regarded her hands nervously. He had every right to doubt her. Still, she owed him an apology. "I'm sorry for running away. It was foolish. I was frightened, confused."
"No one would ever force you to marry me," he said roughly.
"I… I didn't even think that way."
"You were upset enough to take off on horseback when you're a poor rider. You were upset enough to walk until you bloodied your feet. I'd say you weren't just upset. I'd say you were damn determined."
She could not respond. She had been very determined. She could no longer fathom why.
"Having a change of heart?"
"I don't know," she whispered.
Their glances held. His grew dark. "The southbound train goes through Templeton twice a day. You won't be able to make the morning stop, but you can catch her tomorrow evening. Rick has a schedule, I'll check it now."
She had the feeling that he was very intent on taking her to that train. "M-maybe I should rest tomorrow and leave the following day."
"I'll take you tomorrow," he said flatly. "Before things really get out of control."
She understood. She understood everything too well. He knew as well as she that desire had bloomed between them, dangerous desire, and it was not going to go away just because they both wished it would. They certainly could not reside together under the same roof without tempting fate. He was determined that she leave his home as quickly as possible. Obviously he had decided he didn't want to marry her after all.
She lowered her eyes so he wouldn't see that she was actually hurt. There was no reason to be hurt, because marriage was out of the question. Wasn't it? She did not look up as he crossed the room, until he had shut the door firmly behind him.
Regina fell back against the pillows. She was distraught. Yet she should be relieved that he was taking charge and compelling her to leave. But she wasn't relieved. She was torn, confused, dismayed. What if she did stay? What if they did marry? Dear God, what was she thinking?
She had no time to reflect upon this ghastly turn, for suddenly there was a knock on her door. At Regina's request, a woman entered. She was fair-skinned and dark-haired and just a few years older than Regina. Her simple skirt, shirtwaist, and apron told Regina that she was a servant. The maid set a tray down on the small wooden table by the terrace doors, then turned slightly, regarding Regina.
Regina sat up. "You must be Lucinda. Thank you. The food smells delicious."
Lucinda murmured a response. Regina had the distinct impression that the maid was studying her, but that made no sense at all.
"Do you need anything else?" Lucinda asked. "I'll draw your bath now."
Regina shook her head. The maid left quickly. Regina slid from the bed. Her feet throbbed painfully now and walking was very difficult. She hobbled across the room and sat down at the table, but food was the farthest thing from her mind. Broodingly she wondered what she should do-and what she wanted to do.
* * *
Slade awoke her the next day. He walked into her room, throwing the doors to the balcony open so that the brilliant sunlight suddenly poured inside. She stirred. She was exhausted, she did not want to move, yet she knew there was a reason-an important reason-for her to get up and face the day.
"Elizabeth." Slade's voice penetrated the thick mist of her fatigue. "Wake up."
It took a great effort to force her way up through the heavy cloak of sleep. As she did, she became aware of Slade's voice, urging her again to awaken. When she opened her eyes, it only took a moment for her sleepy senses to distinguish Slade standing over her, regarding her.
Regina became fully awake. She gripped the covers which were down by her waist and pulled them up to her chin. "What are you doing in h
ere?"
His gaze lifted to her face reluctantly. "It's almost noon."
She sat up, making sure not an inch of her person was revealed to his wandering eyes. "Why didn't you knock?"
"I did knock. I've been pounding on that door. You sleep like a dead person, Elizabeth." His gaze finally met hers. His emotions, whatever they might be, were very carefully shadowed. "The train comes through around six tonight. It will take us three hours to get back to town. I don't know much about women, but I do know they need a lot of time to dress and such. You had better get a move on."
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that she was too tired and too sore to leave today, which was the truth. Yet there was more to the truth than her physical condition. Last night she had spent many hours considering her dilemma, unable to convince herself with all of her heart that Slade was right and she must leave. She was still not welcome at her stepmother's; it would be a last resort. The idea of lingering alone at any hotel was equally unpleasant. Solitude was not what she craved, not in her state. Now that she knew what the Delanzas really wanted from her, might she not be able to deal with it forthrightly? She might even be persuaded to consider marrying Slade. After all, last night had proved that there was potential for their relationship. But of course, she would need time, and if she did decide to marry him, it would have to be when she was in full possession of her memory.
But how could she possibly explain all of that to him now, when it was so painfully apparent that he was determined that she leave Miramar? When it was clear he had decided not to marry her? Her pride rose quickly to the occasion. "I can be ready in an hour."
