"Good luck on your test," Claudia signed as Kara led Declan out the door.
The silence in the kitchen was larger than it should have been, maybe because Kara was a very quiet housemate. Declan spoke, and he needed Claudia to express herself audibly, and that change was a relief. Probably the same sort of relief Kara felt around her deaf friends.
Why had Claudia worried about Kara's social isolation, but never about her own?
Rather than tidy up the breakfast mess, Claudia went to Declan's room, shucked off her boots, and climbed into his bed.
He'd made love with her again in the middle of the night, and yet again as the first streaks of dawn had crept across the eastern lip of the Canyon. The last time had been slow, thorough, and excruciatingly tender.
Short of parting with the ranch, Claudia would give up an awful lot for more of that loving, and more of that man.
An awful, awful lot.
Chapter Six
"I woke early today," Kara signed, when the last horse had been led out to a paddock.
"Pretty morning," Declan managed. He tried to emulate Claudia, who spoke and signed simultaneously. He'd learned a lot simply from watching her communicate with Kara.
"You hurt Claudia, I hurt you," Kara replied, looking very much like her aunt. "Claudia did not sleep in her bed last night."
"Claudia is an adult." Or he hoped that was what he'd said. "She is the boss of herself."
Kara walked back into the barn, where conversations wouldn't be visible from the house.
"Claudia works too hard," Kara signed. "You help. That's good. I'm bringing friends over to clean the…this weekend."
"I do not understand…" As best he could, Declan repeated the sign he hadn't comprehended. Something about sleeping, possibly.
Kara took him by the elbow and walked him to the other end of the barn. "That," she said, pointing to the bunkhouse. "Spring cleaning. Men who come to work stay there."
The bunkhouse was every bit as large as the ranch house, in the same adobe and timber construction. Solid as hell and shaded by cottonwoods that had yet to leaf out.
"Do you worry about Claudia?" Declan signed. Hecertainly did, over and above the worry Brewster was causing. To think of Claudia alone here, day after day, working around livestock, using heavy equipment, dealing with all kinds of weather…anything from a snakebite to a flat truck tire five miles from the ranch house to a cranky bull in the mood to annoy Claudia's horse. Cell phone reception was dodgy in parts of the Canyon on a good day.
"I worry," Kara said. "When I go to college, Claudia will be here alone."
Declan had studied the land from every angle, gone over the records in detail, and nearly memorized all nineteen pages of Claudia's original mortgage document, but he'd never sought information from the only person who shared the ranch with Claudia.
"What should Claudia do with the Bar J?"
Kara signed so fast, Declan couldn't catch it all, but he did make out, "Riding camp. Best instructor. Other deaf kids…love to ride. Special here. Nowhere else like the Bar J. No other teacher like Claudia. Wish. Wish. Wish. Claudia says no money. Always, she says no money, no money. She teaches, people pay money. Deaf children's parents pay a lot of money. Riding brings joy to me and to Claudia. Wish. Wish. Wish."
Riding certainly brought Kara joy. Declan had watched her schooling a youngster over fences, and she was patient, skilled, and beautiful to watch. Kara spoke horse fluently, and she'd landed in the one-in-a-million household where somebody understood both the girl and the equines.
"Late," Kara signed, as a white pickup came up the drive. "You talk to Claudia. She listens to you."
She scampered off, snagged a backpack from the porch, and climbed into the truck.
Wish. Wish. Wish. That sure as hell had translated easily enough.
Claudia was up at the house, and her presence pulled at Declan, but Kara's dream pulled at him too. He walked around to the side of the barn and studied the bunkhouse beneath the cottonwoods.
The building was good size, the setting lovely, and the access from the house and barn on an easy grade. An idea sprouted as one of the horses got down to roll in the paddock nearest the house.
Strawberry, still stiff, but recovering from his ordeal.
"It could work," Declan said. "I'd have to sell the hell out of it, and it won't be cheap, but it could work."
***
"Why would Brewster go for turning this place into a deaf-accessible riding camp?" Claudia asked.
Declan had come running up from the barn so fast she'd feared another mishap with a horse. He'd pounded up the back steps and stormed through the door, straight into Claudia's arms.
His kiss had been so full of excitement, she'd nearly started taking his clothes off right there in the kitchen.
"Not only a riding camp for deaf children," Declan said, leading Claudia from the kitchen to the front door. "Brewster gets his corporate retreat for half the year, you get your riding camp. The place has to be kitted out before it can be used as a corporate training center, and those renovations might as well be engineered for deaf accessibility. You keep the ranch, more or less, Brewster dangles a lovely, public-spirited project in front of Ms. Davis and the rest of his competitors."
Declan kept walking, right down the front steps and across the barnyard. He was fired up about this idea, and that gave Claudia hope.
"How does keeping the ranch more or less work?" she asked.
"I'm not sure. I should be able to talk Brewster into leasing the ranch to the riding stable for ninety-nine years, or possibly giving us some sort of easement access to the house and grounds. I'll need to make a few calls, bounce that off the lawyers. Brewster will focus on the tax angle, while we'll need his backing for the construction loan."
Claudia stopped as they reached the path that led to the bunkhouse. "There's that us word again, Declan." The one she loved to hear from him, but still couldn't quite trust. "You work for Brewster, and that means you have to fashion this deal to benefit him. I understand that, but I'm looking out for Kara and the ranch."
He kissed her, another scorching, Katy-bar-the-door of a kiss. "I would not expect anything less of you. In fact, if this is going to work, I'll need you to come to dinner with me tomorrow night in Houston."
Claudia's first thought—after I don't have anything to wear—was, Who will do chores?
"That will take some doing, Declan. Somebody has to stay with Kara, somebody has to do chores, somebody has to—where are you going?"
"To the bunkhouse, and the riding arena, and the equipment shed, and the hay shed…I have little more than twenty-four hours to put together the corporate presentation of my life. Fortunately, I'm good under pressure."
"You're good under the covers too."
Oh, the sun rose twice over the Bar J that morning. Declan's smile was…Claudia almost started taking her own clothes off right there in the barnyard.
"D'ye think so, lass?"
He took Claudia in his arms, and for one perfect moment, nothing else mattered except that Claudia had found this man, and had had this week with him.
"We're burnin' daylight, Declan." Claudia stepped back, and kept hold of his hand. "We'll have to say something to Kara too."
"Tell her you might have found a backer to turn the place into the riding camp she's so excited about. Get all of her ideas, because she's the center arch of this project. She'll be our spokesperson, as it were."
More ideas poured forth, about coordinating with the campus over at Big Spring, creating accessibility for blind people and people in wheelchairs, until Kara came home from school, and added her enthusiasm to the discussion.
Dinner was lasagna from the freezer, with Declan taking all of fifteen minutes to eat. He was glued to his laptop, focused in a way that was just as sexy as his dancing had been.
And his riding.
And his kissing.
And his…
Kara snapped her fingers in front of
Claudia's nose as Claudia stared at a plate she'd been scrubbing for two straight minutes.
"You're in love with him."
No argument there. "Do you mind?"
"It's about damned time you thought of something besides this ranch and me. He's a good man. I don't like the boss."
Claudia was too impressed with Kara's insight to chide her for bad language. This time next year, Kara would probably have a college acceptance in hand. A few cuss words were part of any Texan's well-rounded vocabulary anyway.
"None of us like that boss, but without a job in the States, Declan has to go back to Scotland. Are you okay with Abby spending the night here tomorrow?"
Abby was Shiloh and Bonnie's recently married sister, and while she couldn't sign, Kara would have a friend stay over who could hear and sign both. Between cell phone translation apps, patience, and texting, the weekend would be a chance for Kara to safely spread her wings without Claudia hovering.
"I will be fine." Kara signed. "You will be fine. Declan will be your husband, and then he'll be fine too." She winked and sauntered off in the direction of her bedroom.
Husband? Claudia sat in the kitchen pondering the word, and liking it all too well.
***
Declan's last night under Claudia's roof, he'd fallen asleep on the bed, the laptop warm against his thighs, the cat curled against his hip. Sometime in the night, Claudia had put the computer aside, gotten Declan out of his jeans, and tucked the covers around him.
She'd climbed in beside him, and through the remaining hours of the night, they'd held each other, and dozed, and occasionally talked through the challenge they'd face in Houston.
Much of Saturday was spent traveling, and ignoring emails from Brewster.
"He's expecting me to join him and Miranda for drinks before dinner," Declan said, pocketing his phone. "We have time to go over the presentation once more, grab showers, change, and get to the restaurant with about forty-five minutes to spare."
Declan jammed a key into the front door of his garden apartment, as self-consciousness assailed him.
"Stop engineering this," Claudia said, picking up her overnight bag. "I'll be fine. If we have forty-five minutes to spare, you will spend those minutes napping while I get dressed."
Ladies took longer to get dressed than gentlemen, even gentlemen going forth in their Highland finery. "I feel like I ought to argue with you, but I'm dead on my feet."
"So take a power nap." She patted his chest and preceded him into the apartment. "This place is tidy. I expected tidy, I did not expect Spartan."
"I'm not here much," Declan said, seeing his apartment with the eyes of a man who wanted to impress his lady. Not a single plant sat in a windowsill, no cat, not a braided rug or a handmade vase to be seen. Bachelor-beige carpets and matching furniture. Prints on the walls of Scottish castles in varying shades of granite. "I miss the Bar J."
"So do I, which only confirms my resolve not to cave to your boss's scheme, Declan. You have to support the man, for now at least, but I don't trust him."
Declan opened the balcony door, because the afternoon was mild and the place needed airing.
"He's paid me very well. In that at least, I can't fault him." Very, very well, enough that Declan was wealthy, compared to many. Except that money had been an attempt to buy Declan's soul, which had become obvious only when Declan had seen Brewster's machinations from the perspective of the people whose dreams hung in the balance.
"To bed with you," Claudia said. "And then your boss rides into my ambush."
***
"I don't often break out the full kit," Declan said, buckling his dress sporran around his waist. "But the occasion warrants a statement of national affiliation."
If the prints on the apartment walls were any indication, Declan missed Scotland more than he admitted. The tea towels in the kitchen were embroidered with Scottish wildflowers, the blanket over the back of the couch was a purple plaid woven in Scotland, and the CDs Claudia had spotted were all Scottish traditional music.
And yet, his apartment was more of a campsite than a home. Claudia silently blamed Thad Brewster for that too, on general principles. How could a man make anywhere home when he was always bouncing off to the North Sea or Nigeria?
"You look stunning." Claudia kissed Declan on the mouth. "Grab your laptop and let's head out."
They were right on time, and would arrive at the restaurant at least fifteen minutes ahead of Miranda and Brewster. The hotel where they were to meet was as different from the Sugar Shack as the moon from Venus, but Claudia reminded herself that if Declan could two-step in his kilt, she could do business with an oil baron.
And getting all gussied up to impress the guys was more fun than she'd remembered.
Declan ordered some Scottish ale for himself and a white Russian for Claudia. "Do you know how much better my cologne smells on you?" he asked, when the waiter had departed.
"I wanted your scent on me. Is that your boss?"
"Aye."
Brewster stood near the maître d' station, wearing a dark blue suit and a string tie. The tie was fastened with a turquoise and silver rendering of a longhorn bull, and Brewster's belt buckle sported a matching design.
He was on the tall side, lean, Texas-tan, and as he approached the table, Claudia watched him decide whether to smile, whether to start with charm or go straight to the annoyed-boss persona.
"Declan, good to see you," he said, sticking out his hand. "I wasn't expecting you to bring a date, but I must say, I approve of your choice. Howdy, ma'am."
Not so fast, cowboy. Claudia wouldn't underestimate this guy, and neither would she let him intimidate her.
"Brewster," Declan said. "Claudia, may I introduce you to Thaddeus Brewster, who has the honor to be my present employer? Thad, Claudia Jensen owns the Bar J. She's here to talk business."
Brewster took the seat beside Declan. "I am ever one to enjoy talking business with the ladies, but Ms. Jensen, my dance card this evening is already full. Maybe Declan didn't tell you, but I've already arranged to join a business associate for a meal tonight. I am very interested in buying your ranch—let's get that clear straight out of the chute. If you're interested in selling, then how about we negotiate terms right now?"
The invitation clearly did not include Declan, and Claudia wasn't about to let Brewster cut terms without a witness on hand. An honest witness.
"Am I late to the party?"
A tall redhead stood beside the table. She did great things for an emerald sheath, and both men were immediately on their feet.
"Miranda, hello," Brewster said, kissing her cheek. "I think you know Declan MacLeod, and this is Claudia Jensen."
"Claudy J from the Bar J!" Miranda cried, opening her arms. Claudia was enveloped in a genuine we-won-the-volleyball-championship hug, not some polite air-kissing display. "Dang, girl, it's great to see you. I'm not too keen on the company you're keeping, but maybe they'll improve if we have enough good liquor. How have you been?"
Claudia caught Declan smirking at his beer, but Brewster looked…disgruntled, possibly a little confused.
"Business makes strange bar fellows," Claudia said. "Let's get you a margarita, and tell me how your mama's doing."
For Claudia to ignore a man who thought the universe revolved around him was dangerous when that man wanted to grab her ranch, but the longer she and Miranda reminisced, caught up, and chatted, the more Claudia became convinced that Declan had missed a vital aspect of Brewster's motivation.
Business would be transacted without a doubt, and some of that would be because Brewster Energy would benefit. Mostly, though, Brewster was using his commercial interests to further another agenda entirely.
Thad Brewster was in love with Miranda Davis. Ass over teakettle, hopelessly in love.
***
Declan could feel the consternation rolling off Brewster, consternation being the polite word for Are you plumb loco, Dec? Declan set his laptop on the table as soon as
the ladies had disappeared in the direction of the restroom.
"I will kill you, Dec. I'm not a violent man, but what in the hell are you up to? I'm supposed to have that ranch on a silver platter to flash under Miranda's nose, and you not only don't bring me the ranch that I gave you a whole, entire, what-the-hell-was-I-thinking, week to buy, but you set the ranch owner down at the table with the woman I'm trying to impress."
"You've impressed her," Declan said. "You've shown a little class and turned what was essentially an expensive business meeting into an introduction between potential partners. I have a plan."
That was what Brewster paid Declan to do—come up with plans—so Brewster would listen, up to a point. Declan outlined his ideas for the Bar J as succinctly as he could.
"You want me to spend money on some camp for kids with disabilities, write it off as a corporate training site, and let Claudia Jensen stay on the premises? Horses and all? Do you know how much expense is associated with a horse operation, Declan?"
"Claudia knows to the penny. The facility has a ton of potential, and you should be able to rent it out to other companies looking for off-site locations. The place has to be managed, Thad. Claudia's family has been in the hospitality industry for decades, they're local, and you can't buy that sort of entre with the zoning and environmental authorities."
Brewster crossed his arms. "You just want in her britches. Time I sent you back to Nigeria, Declan. Maybe you've seen enough of Texas to last you. I told Miranda I had a property to discuss, and you let me down. I'm not a happy guy."
Brewster wasn't a reasonable guy—to appearances—but he wasn't a fool, either. "You do have a property to discuss, and if you'll keep an open mind, I can almost certainly—"
"Now there's your problem, that keeping-an-open-mind stuff. Business requires decisions, Declan, something you engineering types don't seem to understand. Miranda is considering three other firms to go with her on her next solar farm, and if her choice isn't Brewster Energy, won't none of us be buying any new cowboy hats for a long time. You've dropped the ball, Declan. Right on my foot."
In other words, Claudia's ranch was doomed, because Brewster was in a bad mood.
The Cowboy Wore A Kilt Page 8
