Wild At Heart

by Susan Fox

  Table of Contents

  Cover Page

  Excerpt

  Dear Reader

  Books by Susan Fox

  Title Page

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Copyright

  “I hate wanting you.”

  Kane continued, “I hate looking at you and knowing that you’re not only the one woman I ache to have, but the last one I want.”

  Heartache took the last of Rio’s strength. She let her hands slide from Kane’s wide shoulders and her arms fall onto the bed. She all but wilted beneath the warm crush of his hard body, her face turned away, tears leaking from her eyes.

  “I hate wanting you, too, Kane,” she whispered. “I’m ashamed that I’ve loved someone all these years who holds me in such contempt…”

  Dear Reader,

  Welcome to the next book in our exciting showcase for 19971 Once again we’re delighted to bring you a specially chosen story we know you’re going to enjoy again and again…

  Authors you’ll treasure, books you’ll want to keep!

  This month’s recommended reading is Wild at Heart by Susan Fox, a romance full of emotion and intensity that will leave you breathless! Susan is a lifelong fan of Westerns and cowboys, and tends to think of heroes in terms of Stetsons and boots!

  Susan Fox loves to hear from readers! You can write to her at P.O. Box 35681, Des Moines, Iowa 50315, U.S.A.

  Books by Susan Fox

  HARLEQUIN ROMANCE

  2930—THE BLACK SHEEP

  2983-NOT PART OF THE BARGAIN

  3268-THE BAD PENNY

  3432—THE COWBOY WANTS A WIFEI

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  Wild at Heart

  Susan Fox

  CHAPTER ONE

  “I HEAR B. J. Hastings proposed.”

  Kane Langtry’s voice carried a sarcasm that made Rio stiffen. She glanced his way briefly in the dim stable, then returned her attention to the glossy red hide of the sorrel she was brushing. The secret shame she’d lived with for as long as she could remember welled up. She knew precisely why B.J. wanted to marry her, and his reasons had nothing to do with love or respect—or even the desire he pretended.

  It hurt that Kane had decided to corner her on the subject. She knew immediately that he meant to hammer it all home to her as if she were too infatuated with the neighboring rancher to see it for herself.

  Her softly challenging, “So?” was much less defiant than she’d meant and she instantly regretted it.

  “So, I sure as hell hope you know that B.J. and his daddy see you as a way out of their money troubles.”

  The low words cut cruelly. The subtle reminder that she was unworthy of being one of Sam Langtry’s heirs was another cut.

  Rio finished with the sorrel and tossed the brush to a nearby hay bale. She gave Kane a lazy smile to cover her hurt. “You don’t think hot sex had anything to do with it, huh?”

  Kane’s expression grew hard and his eyes wandered down her slim, feminine figure. It was a critical inspection, insolent, lingering and ultimately derisive before his gaze came back up to hers. “If you’ve been giving it out, then it’s even more certain Langtry money is his only reason for proposing marriage.”

  Kane’s animosity toward her was as relentless as it was heartbreaking, but Rio kept her smile in place as she looked up into his harsh features. “Jealous, Kane?” The question was retaliation for his cruel remarks. Rio knew—she’d always known—that Kane considered her little more than white trash. The suggestion that he desired her in any way was exactly the slap she meant it to be.

  The arrogant lines of his handsome face became more pronounced and the dark glitter in his blue eyes was cold as he took a step closer. His voice was quiet, its silky tone all the more dangerous because it was so controlled.

  “I could have you anytime I decided to, Rio.” His hand came up and he caught a wisp of dark hair that had worked loose from her braid. A gentle tug sent an avalanche of sensation through her that made her breath catch. A second later, she realized by the faint twist of his mouth that her shock—and her helpless reaction to his touch—had exposed the hungry longing for him that she’d labored to keep hidden.

  Rio had loved Kane Langtry for years. Not for his harshness or indifference toward her, but for the man he was with everyone else. In spite of his refusal to accept her into his family, Rio admired him. She’d looked up to him first as a foster brother, but had rapidly developed a crush on him that had nothing to do with sisterly feelings. By the time she’d turned eighteen, she’d come to the unhappy realization that she was in love with a man who saw her ongoing presence in his life as an irritation.

  But irritation wasn’t the impression she got in those charged moments as she stared up into his face. There was a fierceness about him now, though his fingers still toyed gently with the wisp of hair. The dark sensuality that suddenly burned in his gaze was so intense that she was seized by a strange paralysis. Her knees went weak and she could barely breathe as the back of his finger grazed the side of her throat. The husky timbre of his voice was hypnotic.

  “Tell him no, Rio. Not even B.J. deserves a woman who’s lovesick over another man.”

  It took a moment for Kane’s blunt words to penetrate. It was that same moment that Kane lowered his head and his chiseled lips came to within a finger space of her parted ones. His hand slipped around the back of her neck to hold her in place, but Rio was so astonished by Kane’s sudden advance that she couldn’t move. Kane had never, ever touched her like this. His last-second hesitation merely heightened the sensual confusion that whirled over her.

  And then his mouth crashed forcefully against hers. The twisting pressure of his lips opened hers and she gasped as she was crushed against his hard, lean body. The raw pleasure of his lips was devastating, and Rio clung to him, unable to withstand the sensual onslaught.

  Kane Langtry had been the subject of every wild dream she’d ever had, however foolish, however futile. But she’d never dreamed this, never suspected that any man anywhere was capable of bestowing such pleasure or demanding such an uninhibited response. Rio had never imagined she could lose control of herself, never pictured recovering from her. initial shock and returning his kiss with the fervor she did.

  But she was wrapped around him, her long fingers combed tightly into his thick, dark hair as she met and returned what his mouth was doing to hers. Reduced to impulse and instinct, she was slow to realize that Kane ultimately controlled the passion he’d forced upon her. He withdrew from her in measured stages, and Rio couldn’t help her whimper of disappointment when his kiss began to ease.

  By the time his lips finally moved off hers, her legs could barely support her weight. The few kisses she’d had in the past were nothing like the rough mating Kane had given her. It was horrifying that he’d so thoroughly disoriented her and that she’d been so quickly driven to such abandon. Arousal still throbbed heavily through her and she was alarmed to discover that she was powerless against it.

  It was her powerlessness that made Kane’s ironwilled control all the more awful for her. She opened her eyes and looked up into his hard features, stricken by the faint twist at one corner of the mouth that had so completely mastered hers.


  “Tell him no, Rio,” he rasped, the roughness of his voice making it sound harsh and condemning to her. “B.J. would want to have a wife that’s all his.”

  Rio swayed when Kane abruptly released her and stepped back to retrieve his Stetson. She hated that she had to put out a hand to the stall door to steady herself. Kane watched her intently, his eyes burning with new knowledge. Whatever he’d suspected before about her feelings, there were no mysteries now.

  Rio was left with nothing to hide behind. Her usual cool indifference, mild defiance—even the sham of allowing B.J. Hastings to date her, would no longer convince anyone but outsiders that she didn’t have feelings for Kane Langtry.

  Kane had stripped her of everything in the past few moments. The fact that she’d helped him do it was something she wouldn’t get over for a very long time.

  There was something edgy and restless about Rio Cory when she came up to the main house late that afternoon. Sam Langtry noticed it the moment she stepped into the kitchen from the back door and tugged off her Stetson to hang it on a wall peg. She hadn’t seen him yet, sitting at the table in the breakfast nook off to her right, so he had an opportunity to study her.

  The eleven-year-old orphan he’d taken in had grown into a beauty. Her waist-length braid was nearly black, her dark-lashed eyes large and jewel blue, but her delicate features promised an enduring beauty that age would never diminish. Just like her mama.

  In many ways, Rio reminded Sam Langtry of the woman he’d loved but had never married. The biggest heartache of his seventy years was the fact that Lenore Cory’s frail health had given out two years before her drunken husband had got himself killed. While she’d been alive, Sam had hinted to no one that he’d been in love with her. He’d done everything propriety, and Lenore’s pride, allowed to help her and her child. Later, he’d taken in her orphaned daughter after her husband’s death. Raising Rio had been a balm for the loss of her mother.

  But fourteen years after Lenore’s death, Sam had come to the end of his time on the earth. His heart was failing, he could feel it weaken by the hour. It was now, when he made himself take stock of his life and his deeds, that his memories of the past had come so clear. He was surprised sometimes at the depth of his feelings, but it was a soul-deep pleasure that his memories of Lenore had grown even more precious to him.

  As her daughter was precious to him. Sam loved his son, loved his stepdaughter, Tracy, but Rio shared equally in his love for the children he considered his. The fact that he felt more tender toward her than he did Kane or Tracy was because Rio had always been the one who’d needed him most. She’d been deprived of the most, had lost the most. She’d also given back the most with her love and unswerving loyalty to him.

  His only regret in dying was that he knew Rio would take his death hard. For all she’d become, for all her strengths, she was still that lost, frightened child who ran wild after her mama died, then had run off to hide on Langtry range after her father was killed. The wounds that had been inflicted on her because of her father’s drunkenness and the notoriety of the fatal accident he’d caused still undermined her confidence, still kept her from feeling fully the pride she should have had in being a vital part of Langtry.

  Perhaps he should have legally adopted her after all. His hope for Rio and Kane to fall in love, marry and together carry on the impressive history of Langtry Ranch now seemed every bit the foolish romanticism of an old man. Kane and Rio had never seemed less likely to forge such a bond. Rio loved Kane deeply, though she’d carefully kept it to herself. Kane appeared to be indifferent to Rio—when he wasn’t jumping down her throat about something. He’d never been more critical of her than lately, but then, Sam knew his taciturn son well enough to suspect that his criticisms might be an effort to make sure he kept Rio at a distance. After all, Rio was a beauty, as skilled and capable as either of them in the running of Langtry. And there was a powerful tension between the two of them. Sam hoped his plan would keep them together long enough after his death for the tension to be resolved.

  Rio turned her head just then and saw him at the table. Her edginess vanished, and a smile came over her lips. Her feminine stride as she crossed the kitchen to lean down and kiss his cheek was loose and relaxed, but the moment her hand touched his shoulder, he felt the tremor in it.

  “I hope that’s decaf you’re swillin’, cowboy,” she said, then stepped over to the counter to help herself to the coffeemaker that held the real thing.

  “Decaf coffee, no red meat, no liquor, no cigars, no salt, no fat, no fun. If it weren’t for sugar, I’d have no vices whatsoever,” he grumbled with good humor.

  Sam was watching Rio’s face closely when she turned back. He noted the slight swelling of her lips before she took a sip of coffee. He hoped B.J. Hastings wasn’t responsible for the telltale fullness.

  Rio had told him about B.J.’s proposal. She’d also confided that she thought B.J. was really after a Langtry loan. Sam suspected B.J. was after the impressive inheritance he meant to bestow on her. That Rio had called B.J.’s sudden interest in marrying her a bid for a loan reflected her lack of presumption where inheritance was concerned. She’d made it clear to him the first time he’d brought up the subject of her share in his estate that she wanted to inherit nothing from him. He’d given her the most important things in her life, she’d declared, so she wouldn’t need his money. The only thing she’d asked was that he put something in his will to compel Kane and his heirs to allow her to return to the ranch from time to time.

  Rio’s wishes where his will was concerned were worlds different than his second wife’s. As if she’d forgotten their prenuptial agreement, Ramona had already gone over every bank balance, investment, stock portfolio and business holding, and had handed him a lengthy list of the ones she wanted for herself. Her wish list had been the most blatantly greedy demand she’d ever made of him. She didn’t realize yet that he’d found out about her infidelities. But it was because of her secret mistreatment of Rio that he meant to see that Ramona didn’t receive a nickel more than the law assigned a surviving wife. She had a legal right to half of everything he’d earned during their six year marriage, but because the law allowed it and because of the prenuptial agreement, that made Langtry Ranch and the lion’s share of Langtry holdings and stocks exempt. Ramona was certain to pitch a world-class tantrum when she found out that he wasn’t going to be generous, but Sam believed the purpose of a will was as much to reward or insult heirs as it was to divide the deceased’s assets. The idea appealed to his sense of justice.

  “You got time for a drive up to the Painted Fence?”

  Sam’s question sent a ripple of unease through Rio. She set her coffee aside to give herself time to recover. Sam referred to the family cemetery on Langtry as the Painted Fence. That he’d wanted to visit the small, private cemetery with increasing frequency the past few weeks was another reminder to Rio that he believed his life was near the end.

  The thought was unbearable. Sam was not just the only real father she’d ever had, he was her dearest friend. It was inconceivable that the tall, strong man whose word was law on Langtry could actually die.

  Her quiet, “Give me a moment to wash up,” was all she could get out before she turned and forced herself to make a sedate exit from the kitchen. Rio managed a reserved smile for Ardis and Estelle, the cook and the housekeeper, as she passed them in the back hall, but the moment she reached the refuge of the small bath, she closed the door and leaned against it.

  The anguish that had disrupted her sleep for weeks was suddenly agonizing. Sam was dying. He refused to consult another heart specialist and had warned both her and Kane that he wanted no heroic efforts to extend his life. That included the wheelchair Kane had bought, which had been banished to a garage. All Sam agreed to was his special diet, his medications and his naps. Rio was powerless to change his mind, powerless against the rapid advance of his illness.

  Her mother’s death had been long and slow. Rio had bee
n just as powerless against it. In the end, it seemed her mother had just given up, first resisting ongoing treatments, then finally, refusing them altogether. She’d died very soon after, leaving her only child to a neglectful, alcoholic father. Those had been black days, with no warmth, no affection in the little house they’d lived in on Langtry for as long as she could remember. By then, her father’s drinking binges lasted for days, and Rio was so ashamed and afraid of him that she spent nearly all the time she wasn’t in school working odd jobs around the ranch or exploring the land. More often than not, she slept in one of the barn lofts or hay barns, anything to avoid her father’s rages and drunken stupors.

  And yet, Ned Cory’s death two years after her mother’s had been anything but a relief. Because he’d caused the highway accident that had also killed two teenage brothers, the notoriety of his drinking had mushroomed, making Rio more an object of scorn than sympathy. His death had also cost her the last of what little she’d had: the right to live on Langtry and have some sort of home.

  But she’d lived a long time on her own, keeping out of the way, doing what she could to keep herself fed, clothed and attending school. The social worker who’d showed up hadn’t been convinced an eleven-year-old could do such things, and had insisted on placing her with a foster family in the city. The woman’s overbearing manner gave Rio no confidence in any family the woman would choose for her, so she’d fled. She’d known all the best places to hide around the ranch headquarters, known several ideal places on the range. She hadn’t been able to risk going back to the little house, except for a few things which she’d taken away and carefully hidden. She stopped going to school, too, afraid the social worker would have too much help from the principal and teachers. She’d finally got so hungry that she’d made nightly raids on the cook house, plundering the food store and enjoying the furnace heat for as long as she dared before she climbed back out a window into the chilly fall night.

 
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