It wasn’t as if he’d really loved her. Oh, sure, he’d been infatuated. He’d even sat outside that fleabag motel, convinced he’d never get over her, but he had. It didn’t hurt to think about her anymore. What thinking about her did was make him angry.
“Angry as hell,” he said, and the horse danced nervously again.
No man liked to be played for a fool, and that was exactly what Stephanie had done to him.
He’d admitted that to Jack.
“She played me for a fool,” he’d said over a threebourbon lunch.
Jack had sighed and shaken his head; he’d looked down into his drink and over the heads of the diners at the next table, anywhere but at David, and he’d said, in a voice that could have rung with self-righteous satisfaction but didn’t, “I tried to warn you, David.”
Yes. Oh, yes. Jack had tried to warn him, but he’d been so sure. So convinced. So damn positive he’d found…
What?
What had he thought he’d found? An honest woman? Stephanie had never been that. A woman with simple tastes? No way. A woman who loved him? Absolutely not. Well, that was something, wasn’t it? She hadn’t ever claimed to love him. And a good thing, too, because he’d have called her on it. He’d have known she was handing him a load of crap because a woman who loved a man didn’t lie, didn’t cheat, didn’t weep crocodile tears.
It was just that he couldn’t forget. Her laugh. Her smile. The way she’d get that glint in her eye and stand up to him, no matter what…
The way she whispered his name when they made love, in a voice hushed with emotion. The way she returned his kisses. The way she curled into him when she slept, with her head on his shoulder and her arm across his chest, as if she never wanted to let him go…
“Dammit,” he snarled.
Startled, the horse reared up on its hind legs. When its hooves touched the ground, David dug in his heels and leaned forward. He knew better than to hope he could leave his memories behind, but maybe, if he was lucky, he could ride and ride and ride, until he was just too tired to think anymore.
* * *
Riding helped.
So did working hard every day, from sunrise until sunset. He knew his men were asking each other questions behind his back. Even his foreman, who knew him as well as anybody and knew, too, that he’d always worked as hard as any of the hands, started looking at him strangely.
Nobody would ask him any questions, though, partly because he was the boss, mostly because you just didn’t do that. In the West, a man’s thoughts were his own. And that was just as well, David told himself as he sweated over what had to be his millionth fence posthole of the afternoon, because anybody getting a look at what he was thinking would have run for cover.
Why had he ever gone to the Cooper wedding? Why had he sat at table seven? Why had he let Jack talk him into going to Georgia?
Because he was an idiot, that was why. David grunted and jammed the digger into the soil. Because he was an unmitigated, unrepentant ass, that was why.
“David?”
He looked up. His foreman was standing in front of him, his hands on his hips.
“What?” he snapped.
“You have a phone call.” The foreman looked down at the ground, then up at David. “You’re also about to dig that next hole right through your foot.”
David looked at the posthole digger, then at his boot. He cursed, tossed the digger aside and wiped the sweat out of his eyes.
“I’m not in such a great mood lately,” he said.
His foreman raised his eyebrows. “Do tell.”
The two men looked at each other.
“I guess it shows.”
“Nah.”
His foreman grinned. David smiled back.
“Thanks for the message,” he said.
The foreman nodded. “Sure.” He watched his boss stride toward the house. Then he sighed, shrugged his shoulders, and headed back to the barns.
* * *
The house was cool and quiet David nodded to his housekeeper and signaled that he’d take the call in the library. He shut the door after him, took the phone from the desk, and put it to his ear.
“This had better be good, Jack,” he said.
He heard his partner laugh.
“That’s quite a greeting, David. How could you be so sure it’s me?”
“No one else would be foolhardy enough to call me here.” David cocked a hip against the edge of his desk. “What do you want, Jack? I told you, when I left, that I was going to take a few weeks off.”
“I know, but…” Jack cleared his throat. “I thought you might want to hear this.”
“Hear what? The only open file I’ve got is that Palmer thing, and I explained—”
“It’s not about the office, David.” Jack cleared his throat again. “It’s about the Willingham woman.”
David’s heart dropped. “What about her? Has something happened to her? Is she—”
“No, no, it’s not about her. Not exactly. It’s…the report came in.”
“What report?”
“The one from Dan Nolan. You asked him to do a check on her, remember?”
David closed his eyes. A sharp pain lanced just behind his eyes. “Yeah,” he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I remember. Listen, do me a favor, Jack. Burn it.”
“Well, I was going to, David. But then Dan phoned, and he said some things…”
“What things?”
“Look, I think you might be interested in what be found out.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not. Just take the report and—”
“I sent it out this morning, David. By courier.”
David sighed. “No problem. I’ll chuck it out when it arrives.”
* * *
But he didn’t.
The report arrived early the next morning. David took it into the library, along with a mug of black coffee. He sat down at his desk, tilted back his chair, put his feet up and studied the envelope as it lay on his desk. Then he sat up straight, drank the coffee, and squared the edge of the envelope with the edge of the desk. It was a standard number nine tan manila envelope, no different than a thousand other envelopes…
He dreaded opening it.
“Dammit, Chambers, stop being a jerk.”
He moved quickly, grabbing the envelope and ripping it open. A slim white folder was inside. Dan’s letter was attached but he ignored it, looked at the folder and took a deep breath.
There it was, waiting for him. The story of Stephanie’s life. Not as many pages as he’d have figured, but quantity wasn’t everything, quality was.
His smile was bittersweet.
Read it, he told himself, and put an end to thinking about her. He took another deep breath.
“‘And the truth shall set you free,’” he murmured.
He opened the folder.
An hour later, he sat with the pages of the report scattered on the desktop.
“Oh, Scarlett,” he whispered. “Scarlett, my love.”
By midday, he was seated in the cockpit of a chartered plane, headed for Willingham Corners, Georgia. The pilot, a man he’d known most of his adult life, chattered on and on about the world and the weather, but all David could think about was Stephanie, and how much he loved her…
And how badly he had failed her.
* * *
Stephanie sat shelling peas on the tiny porch of the house she’d grown up in.
It was a warm, lazy afternoon. Fat honeybees buzzed among the roses; an oriole trilled from the lowest branch of a magnolia. It was a perfect June day—or it would have been, if she weren’t so angry.
“Idiot,” she muttered, snapping open a pod and slipping the peas into the bowl in her lap.
She wasn’t just angry. She was furious, and at herself. She had been, for weeks.
She blew a strand of hair out of her eyes and picked up another pea pod.
Oh, she’d wasted some time on stupidity, crying over losing David, but
that hadn’t lasted long. Why would it? You couldn’t lose what you’d never had, and she had never “had” David. Why would she have wanted to have him? What had she seen in him, anyway? He was a liar, a cheat, and a scoundrel, just like all the rest of them.
“Avery incarnate,” she mumbled, and slammed the peas into the bowl.
To think she’d imagined herself in love with such a rat. To think she’d wanted to marry him. To think she’d slept with him…
Except, she hadn’t slept with him. She’d made love with him, and yes, there was a difference. A wonderful difference. Otherwise she’d never have felt the things she’d felt, never have died and been reborn in his arms.
“Nonsense,” she said briskly.
And it was nonsense. She’d been vulnerable, that was all. David had come along when she was having a difficult time. He’d shown her what she’d thought was kindness, but it had turned out to be nothing but a scheme to get her into his bed.
It was hard to believe any man would go to such lengths just to seduce a woman, especially a man like David. Stephanie’s throat constricted. She’d been so sure it was all real. The kindness. The decency. The concern.
The love. Oh, David’s love. His kisses and caresses. His whispered promises. His tenderness.
Stephanie gave herself a little shake.
“Stop it,” she said sternly.
The lies, for that was what they’d been, were all behind her. David was the past. The future… well, she wasn’t sure just what the future was, but it was shaping up. She smiled and brushed her hand over her eyes. Things were definitely going to get better. Paul, for one. He was better. New medications had made a big improvement. And a day after she’d pleaded with Rest Haven’s management board, explained how desperate she was, they’d come up with an incredible proposal. They’d halve the cost of Paul’s care, if she’d agree to replace the administrative assistant to the manager, when she retired in two weeks.
So now, here she was, spending a quiet time at the old family homestead before beginning her new job. Yes, life was good. It was fine. It was…
Oh, God, it was a mess, because David, damn him, had broken her heart. Who was she kidding? She hated him. Despised him. But that didn’t keep her from dreaming about him, from longing for the comfort of his arms—
“Scarlett?”
The bowl tumbled from her lap and Stephanie shot to her feet. She spun around, her hand to her breast, knowing, knowing, that she had to be imagining the sound of David’s voice…
But she wasn’t.
“David,” she whispered, and her heart kicked against her ribs.
He stood no more than twenty feet away, not moving, not talking, just looking at her. What was he doing here? How had he found her?
What did he want?
“You,” he said, and she knew she must have spoken the last question aloud.
Her heart did another little tumble. Don’t, she told herself. Oh, Steffie, don’t. He’s lying. He must be lying. And even if he isn’t, you know what he believes. What he thinks…
“I love you, Scarlett.”
Her mouth began to tremble. “No,” she said, and shook her head. Her hands were trembling, too, and she stuck them deep into the pockets of her old jeans. “Please, don’t say that.”
“I don’t deserve another chance,” he said as he started slowly toward her. “I know that. I failed you, sweetheart. When you needed me the most, I wasn’t there.”
“No.” Stephanie shook her head again. “Don’t, David. I can’t—I can’t bear it.”
“I didn’t trust you. I knew it, and I told myself that was fine, that a man had to be a fool to trust a woman.” He stopped at the foot of the porch steps and looked into her eyes. They were shining with tears and he resisted the desire to reach out, pull her down into his arms and kiss the tears away. “I love you,” he said again. “I want you to be my wife.”
Stephanie took a step back. “This isn’t fair,” she whispered. “To say these things and—and not mean them…”
He smiled. “I’m a lawyer, Scarlett. Would a lawyer tell a lie?”
“Isn’t that what they do?” she said, her head lifting with defiance.
David sighed. “Well, yeah. Sometimes, I guess, but only by omission.”
“You lied. And not by omission. You know you did.”
He climbed the steps slowly, watching as she backed away from him, drinking in her beauty and the sweetness of her face, his heart suddenly blazing with hope because he knew, he knew, that she loved him just as much as he loved her.
“You’re right,” he said softly. Her shoulders hit the wall of the little clapboard house that looked strangely like the one he’d grown up in, and he smiled again, knowing she couldn’t get away from him now, that he’d never let her get away from him again. “I did lie,” he said, reaching out to touch her hair. “That’s what I’ve come here to tell you.”
“Don’t—don’t do that,” she said, trying to pull away from him. He wouldn’t let her. He just came closer, until she had to tilt her head to look up into his eyes, those wonderfully blue eyes. “What do you mean, that’s why you’ve come here?”
He stroked his hand over her hair, along her cheek. He cupped her shoulders with his palms and drew her unyielding body toward his.
“I came to tell you that I lied about everything, Scarlett.” He put his hands into her hair and lifted her face to him. “About not meaning it, when I proposed marriage.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said stiffly. “I wouldn’t have—I never wanted to—please, David. Don’t do that.”
He did it, anyway; he bent his head and brushed his mouth gently over hers. Stephanie held still. She didn’t breathe. She wouldn’t let him know what was happening to her, what his touch was doing to her…
A sob burst from her throat.
“Damn you,” she whispered. “You broke my heart, David. Wasn’t that enough? Have you come here to do it again?”
“I came here to tell you that I love you,” he said, “that I’ve always loved you…and to beg your forgiveness.”
Stephanie looked up at him, her eyes wide.
“I love you, Scarlett. That’s why I came up with that whole crazy scheme about why we should marry. I was too afraid to tell you the truth.”
“Afraid? Of what?”
“Of getting hurt. Of you saying you didn’t love me.”
“Oh, David.” Stephanie smiled through her tears. “I love you with all my heart. But—but that night—the things you said…”
David kissed her. “Lies,” he whispered, brushing the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. “I saw you with another man and I went crazy with jealousy.”
“It was Paul. My brother.”
“I know that now.”
“He’s been sick for years, David, ever since he hit his head, a long time ago. I know I should have taken you to meet him. I wanted to, but Paul had—”
David kissed her again. holding her closely in his arms, so that she could feel the accelerated beat of his heart.
“You don’t have to explain. I know everything, Scarlett, including what a fool I was, and if you let me, I’ll spend the rest of my life proving how much I adore you. Will you marry me?”
Stephanie wrapped her arms around David’s neck. “Yes,” she said, her eyes shining, and David lifted her into his arms and carried her away from Willingham Corners forever.
* * *
They were married on the ranch, in Wyoming, on a gloriously warm and bright Sunday afternoon, two months later.
It would have been sooner, but it had taken time for David to arrange for Paul’s admittance to a San Francisco clinic where remarkable progress was being made with injuries such as his.
“Anything you want to bet,” David said softly to his bride on the morning of their wedding, “Paul will be well enough to celebrate our first anniversary with us here, on the Bar C.”
Stephanie smiled, leaned up and kissed his cheek. She had
no doubt it would happen, just the way David said. David always told the truth, and she trusted him with all her heart.
The wedding was small but perfect. All the guests said so, even Mary Russell, when she could stop weeping long enough to talk.
“You’re being silly,” Jack whispered to his wife, but he was smiling when he said it, and thinking what a lucky man he was to have her.
Annie couldn’t come, but Stephanie promised to send pictures.
“You’ll be a beautiful bride,” Annie had promised, and everyone agreed that she was.
She wore a long, full gown of white silk with tiny silver flowers trimming the bodice, and carried a bouquet of baby’s breath and tiny white and purple orchids. David wore a Western-cut tuxedo and black leather boots, and all the women sighed and said there’d never been a more handsome groom.
And when the day ended, and all the guests had left, he lifted Stephanie before him onto the saddle of his horse, just as she was, in all her bridal finery, and they rode up into the mountains, to watch the sun go down.
David turned her face up to his. “I love you, Scarlett.”
Stephanie smiled radiantly. “I love you, too, my beloved husband,” she murmured.
David kissed his bride. At long last, he was truly home.
* * * * *
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For nearly sixty years, Italian billionaire, Giovanni Di Sione has a kept a shocking secret. Now, nearing the end of his days, he wants his grandchildren to know their true heritage.
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The Tycoon's Bought Fiancée Page 18
