“So who’s the woman who hit you?” Logan said, gesturing to the hallway where Sara had gone. “I take it that’s not the one who went with you to find Ryan, and who was the woman who answered your phone?”
If Joe wasn’t so tired, he’d probably have felt embarrassed about the mess, because the way his brother said it made him sound like one of those lowlife womanizers who used women and tossed them aside. He never did that, except he could still vividly remember taking Margaret on the ground while he was engaged to another woman.
“That was Sara. She was my fiancé and the reason Ryan ran away.”
His brother raised his eyebrows but didn’t say a word.
“Margaret Gordon, I don’t know if you remember her,” Joe said. “She’s my age, a tall girl who moved in with her grandfather, Carl Spick.”
“Oh, I remember Carl. Yeah, that tall girl dumped here by a mother who had no time for her. I remember Mom talking,” Logan said.
“She’s back, and she works with horses. She was working with Storm, and Ryan likes her. She befriended him. She went with me to find him, and she saved him. It’s a long story, but she used to be a doctor. She knew the entire time that Ryan and Sara didn’t get along. Ryan doesn’t like Sara, and I was apparently not seeing the whole picture. I only asked Sara to marry me because I thought Ryan needed a mother.” He rubbed his cheek. “I deserved this.”
“Hmm” was all his brother said, studying him shrewdly. There was one thing about Logan: He’d grown quieter since becoming a marine. His brother limped over to a chair and sat down.
“Your leg still bothering you?” Joe said. He remembered all too well the roadside bomb that had left Logan in a coma, without his spleen, with internal injuries, his leg pieced back together. He had been medically discharged shortly afterward.
“It’s the wet, and I’ve been driving all day,” Logan said. He winced and stretched out his leg. “It sounds like you’ve got bigger problems. At least you came to your senses before you married the woman. You did, didn’t you?”
Joe wiped his face with his hands. “Yeah. Listen, I need to find out if Margaret made it back. I’m worried about her. I haven’t told Ryan yet, but he’s asked about her. I don’t want to leave him.”
Logan groaned as he shoved his way out of his seat. “Stay with Ryan. I’ll go find this Gordon woman.”
“Thank you, Logan,” Joe said. “Oh, she doesn’t have a phone. We took the trail from Carl’s, the one that headed up to that lake where we always went to camp.”
“You took her all the way up there?” Logan said, shaking his head. “I’ll stop at her house first. You only had the two horses, didn’t you?”
“No, I have a silver dapple, but she can’t wear a saddle,” Joe said, worrying as his brother tried to hide the pain in his leg.
“I guess I’ll be walking, then.”
Joe couldn’t help it when he glanced at Logan’s leg and said, “Are you sure you’re up to it?”
The stubborn, hard expression that Logan was known for, which had gotten him in trouble time and again, darkened his face. “I’m up to a hell of a lot more than you are,” he replied. “Go look after your son.”
Joe watched as his brother strode out, trying to hide the fact that his leg was the one thing that would hold him back from being a hero.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Margaret wondered if she was lost. She did her best to look for anything familiar, but the trees, the paths, the brown and green, everything looked the same. She wondered if Angel was just taking her on a wild goose chase. She was so tired that she didn’t have her wits about her. Storm had tested her over and over, spooking at everything, and Margaret just wasn’t in the frame of mind to easily calm him. Everything was an effort. Her shoulders ached from riding for hours. Her hand and arm hurt so badly from leading both Mercedes and Storm, and her right shoulder felt as if she’d jarred it. Her neck was twisted into knots, and her head was pounding. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. Maybe that was why Storm suddenly spooked and pulled so hard he yanked her off Angel. She hit the ground at the same time that she heard a man yell, and her breath went out in a whoosh. She didn’t think, rolling to avoid being stomped. She saw stars as she struggled to her feet, reaching for Angel, who was still there. She blinked when a man who looked so much like Joe appeared, grabbing Mercedes.
“Joe?” she said, shaking her head when she noticed the short hair, the gray, the lines on his face.
“You must be Margaret. I’m Logan, Joe’s brother. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, fine,” she said before she had a chance to think about it.
The man reached forward and touched her forehead. “You have a cut. It’s bleeding a bit.”
Margaret touched her forehead and pulled her hand away, seeing blood, but she couldn’t feel anything. Adrenaline was still pulsing through her, and she was so tired. When she took a step and winced from the pain in her leg, and then her shoulder, she cried out.
“Joe was worried about you,” Logan said, and Margaret rested her hand on Angel’s flank.
“How is Ryan? Is he okay?” she said. The fact was that she’d been sick with worry and didn’t know whether she could handle it if something had happened to Ryan.
“He’s going to be okay. Apparently you’re the one to thank for that. You saved his life,” Logan said.
“What about a CT scan, did they do one? Does he have a head injury? He had a punctured lung—what about other internal injuries?” she said. She was still rattling on when he set his hand on her shoulder.
“Well, I’ll tell you what: As soon as we get back, I’ll take you to see him, and you can see for yourself that he’s all right.”
“And Joe, is he okay?” she said.
Logan seemed a little amused. “Joe’s fine, but I think he was right to be worried about you. I can’t believe he left you out here alone,” he added.
“He didn’t have a choice. He had to go with Ryan, and I couldn’t leave the horses.” Her legs were starting to shake. “Would you mind giving me a leg up? I don’t think I have the strength.”
Logan did more than give her a leg up. He slid his arm around her to steady her and all but lifted her into the saddle, handing her the reins.
Margaret looked back for Storm. “Storm, come here, boy.”
“I’ll get him,” Logan said, taking Mercedes’ reins and pulling himself into the saddle.
“Storm spooks really easily, Logan. Let me get him,” Margaret said.
Logan moved beside her, setting his hand on her arm. “You’ve done more than enough. I’ll get Storm, and…”
“You don’t understand. Storm is―”
He stopped her by gripping her wrist. “I’ve got it. I’ve handled a lot worse.”
There was something about the way he said it that had her nodding and focusing on staying in the saddle with Angel. She thought she could easily fall over and onto the ground, and she listened to Storm squealing. From the tone of Logan’s voice, she knew the moment he had him, and then he was beside her.
“Are you ready to go home?” he asked.
“How much farther is it?”
He gave her an odd look. “You were almost home, just through those trees up ahead.” He kicked the palomino and moved forward, holding the rope tied to Storm and leading the way.
Margaret was never so grateful to see home as when she spotted the corral, the barn, and the house. She saw an older model black Jeep, which she supposed was Logan’s. She stopped in a daze and just sat in the saddle outside the small barn, and the next she knew, Logan had lifted her out of the saddle and set her on the ground. She would have fallen over if he hadn’t been holding her.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I’m just tired—and sore,” she said, and he finally loosened his hold. “I need to get the horses put away. They need to be unsaddled and given some hay, water. This has been a hard couple of days for them. I need to get them brushed down, and…” She wiped
her arm across her forehead, rubbing at the dried blood that was starting to itch.
“Listen, I’ll take care of the horses,” Logan said. “You need some rest. Are you sure you’re not hurt? That was a hard fall you took.”
As he let her go, she swayed a bit and then stepped away, limping. Her entire body felt like one big bruise. “Nothing a hot shower won’t help,” she said.
She watched as he led Angel beside the other two horses. He tied them to the post of the corral and then unsaddled her, taking the blanket and all to the barn and shouting over his shoulder, “Go, get in the shower. I told you I’ll look after them.”
It was then she noticed the limp in his leg and realized he was the eldest of the Wildes, the one who had fought in the war. She took comfort in knowing someone was looking out for her, and she went inside.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Are you sure she’s okay?” Joe asked his brother, who returned alone four hours later, opening the door to Ryan’s room and gesturing for Joe to come out into the hall.
“Yeah, she’s sleeping. I didn’t want to wake her. She took a pretty bad fall from her horse when I found her. I must have spooked them, but she was barely sitting in that saddle. She went in to take a shower while I looked after the horses. When I was finished, I knocked and she didn’t answer. I was worried, so I opened the door and walked in, called out to her. I found her lying on her bed. She had never made it to the shower, and she was fast asleep.” Logan looked into the room at Ryan. “How’s he doing?”
“Ryan’s good, just annoyed he can’t have pizza. They’ve got him on broth, which, for a teenager, is about as appealing as a root canal.” Joe had napped off and on in the chair beside Ryan’s bed, and Ryan had asked repeatedly about Margaret and when she was coming. Joe hadn’t told him yet, as she was still with the horses.
“Would you mind staying with Ryan?” Joe asked. “I’d like to get cleaned up.”
What he really wanted and needed was to stop in and make sure Margaret was okay. He’d been going out of his mind with worry. The fact was that leaving Margaret alone like he had…well, he felt like a world-class jerk.
“Yeah, you bet. I’ll stay,” Logan said, tossing a set of keys to Joe. “Take my Jeep, but don’t wreck it.”
Joe set his hand on Logan’s shoulder. “Thank you. Don’t let my kid talk you into anything he shouldn’t be doing,” he said.
Logan’s expression changed, and he said, “That Margaret Gordon was torn up about Ryan. She really cares about him. Evidently, she cares about you, too.” He pushed open Ryan’s door, and Joe stood behind him and watched the excitement light up his son’s face when he saw his uncle for the first time in two years.
Joe didn’t waste any time leaving. He ended up buying a coffee to go from one of the express carts at the front door, and he was glad for the caffeine buzz, which kept him awake on the drive home. He was just coming up to the driveway that led to the old Spick place and was almost past it when he swung the wheel hard, spinning gravel and sending the back wheels in a tail spin. The Jeep bumped over the ruts, and he spotted all three horses in the corral together. Joe’s truck and the horse trailer were right where he had left them. There was no sign of Margaret.
Joe was out of the Jeep when he caught a whiff of something off. He wasn’t sure what it was until he lifted his arm and smelled how bad he reeked. Maybe stopping first wasn’t such a great idea. He should have gone home, showered, put some clean clothes on, but his need to make sure Margaret was okay overpowered his need to get clean, so he knocked on her door. When he heard nothing, he knocked again and called out, “Margaret!” If she was sleeping, she wouldn’t be much longer. He heard a rustling from inside, and she stumbled to the door. When it opened, the first thing he saw was the smudges on her face and the dried blood on her head.
“What the hell happened? Logan said you took a fall, but he didn’t tell me you were hurt!” He pushed his way into the house, and Margaret limped, and he watched the way she winced.
“I’m not, really. I fell from the horse, is all,” she said. Her hand was shaking as it touched her dark hair, which was in wild disarray.
“Not really? Define ‘not really.’ I could kick my ass for leaving you out there alone. I was worried sick about you,” he said, sliding his hands over both her cheeks. A frown formed between her brows.
“How’s Ryan?” she asked, her eyes widening in panic.
“He’s fine, complaining because they won’t let him have pizza.”
She giggled and choked on a sob, and her face scrunched up.
“Hey, what’s this?” he said. He wouldn’t let her go when she tried to cover her face and a tear leaked out.
“I worried I had hurt him. You don’t know what went through my mind. Did I make it worse? Would he wake up? What about his head? He had a bad gash, and he was unconscious. My God, there could have been a brain bleed, swelling, something they missed.…” She was shaking.
He held her face between his hands and then slid them over her ears, bringing his face closer. “They took care of everything. You saved his life. He’s one lucky kid. They said he only has a concussion, but he has tons of stitches and a busted rib that’ll keep him down for a while,” he said. He used his thumb to wipe away the dampness under her eyes, wondering what was wrong with him that he had missed how much she loved his son. She hadn’t hesitated to walk into danger for him, for his kid, and she had done more than most men could.
“You like to pretend you’re so strong, so independent, and you keep everyone away at arm’s length, but you’re not that tough,” he said. “I see through this mask and the role you play for everyone.”
She shut her eyes and wouldn’t look at him, and she scraped her hand over his. “Joe, don’t. You’re with someone else, and my heart can’t take that. I bleed, I love, and I get hurt over and over, and I can’t be. You can’t be this nice to me, because you make me think there’s more between us, and I…”
He didn’t let her finish as he pressed his lips to hers, touching his tongue to her lips. He felt her hesitate, hearing her breath as she allowed him, after a second, to kiss her. When he pulled away, she opened her eyes, showing him her confusion and worry along with a sheen of tears.
“I’m not getting married to Sara, because you were right,” he said. “I didn’t love her.”
She was frowning again. “Why would you want to marry a woman you don’t love?”
“Because it was safer. I didn’t want to love a woman so much again that if she died, she’d take a part of me with her like Evie did. This time, I knew I wouldn’t survive.”
She was breathing heavily, thinking, and he could see her mind tossing over a dozen different conclusions. He doubted any of them were right.
“I love you, but I didn’t know it until I had you under me and I tasted you, and then you were on me,” he said. “I realized it when I was there in the hospital, that I had left you behind. I had chosen between my son and you when I didn’t want to make a choice at all. I left you, and I’m sorry.”
She reached up and touched his cheek, her hand sliding into his hair. “It wasn’t a choice, Joe. You had to go. I wouldn’t have let you stay. I had to take the horses back. It wasn’t your fault.”
He stepped back and dropped his hands, watching her as she leaned against the wall, still in the same clothes they’d started out in two days ago. Her hair was a mess, her face covered in smudges, dirt, and mud. He scooped her up in his arms, and she winced.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked. He held her tight, and she rested her head on his shoulder.
“No, I’m just sore. I meant to have a hot shower, but I laid my head down for a second and fell asleep.”
Joe started walking down the hall. He flicked on the light in the bathroom and set her down beside the tub.
“What are you doing?” she asked as he turned on the water and then kicked off his boots.
“Getting you in the shower,” he answered.
/> Chapter Twenty-Four
Joe didn’t just get her in the shower after taking off all her clothes—he stripped off his own and joined her under the hot spray. He turned her around and ran his hands over her back. “You’re going to have some nice bruises here and here,” he said, touching her hip and shoulder. He turned her with all the gentleness she didn’t expect and slid his hand into her hair, tilting her head back under the water.
It felt so good, the warmth of the water running in her hair and the warmth of his skin against her chest. She shut her eyes and then opened them when his hands slipped away as he reached for the shampoo and poured some into his hand, running it over her hair and scrubbing the itch. It felt so good.
“You don’t need to wash my hair,” she said, but she didn’t mean it and hoped he wouldn’t take his hands off her ever.
“Yeah, I can see how you really mean that,” he replied, laughing his low, sexy laugh as he leaned her head back to rinse out the shampoo.
He ran the bar of soap over every inch of her, kneeling down to do her feet, asking her to lift each foot as she leaned on his wide shoulders. When he stood up, he ran his hand over her skin, up her thighs, touching her in the most intimate of places and then setting his hands on her waist. He pulled her to him, and she could feel every inch of his desire for her. He turned, trading places with her under the spray, holding her close as he dunked his head under the nozzle, too low for a man of his height.
He touched his lips to hers and said, “My turn. I’ll be quick.” He scrubbed his head with shampoo, rinsing it while she grabbed the soap and started running it over his chest, loving the feel of the dark hair that covered it.
The man was amazing with clothes on. With them off, he was godlike.
He set his hand over hers, taking the soap bar. “I’ll finish so we can get out of here before it gets cold.”
He washed himself quickly, rinsing and turning off the water. He lifted Margaret out of the tub, setting her down and drying her with a towel, taking a closer look at her body as he dried her breasts, her stomach, her legs, taking his time. Only once did she try to cover her breasts with her hands, but he said, “No,” moving her hand away and setting his mouth to her nipple.
Danger Deception Devotion The Firsts Page 12
