Seduction, Cowboy Style

by Anne Marie Winston

  Then he realized Marty had a hand under his elbow. “Let’s go home.”

  Irritably, he shook him off. “Let go. I can walk.”

  “Fine.” Marty held up both hands. “Come on.”

  They’d each driven into town, and they each drove home. When they got back to the ranch, Deck climbed out and walked to the porch steps, where he cautiously parked his butt on the top step. His jaw was aching and he hoped that damned McCall hadn’t broken it.

  But the thought held little rancor. For years he’d nursed his anger against Cal, and now, in the space of one evening, it was all gone. He felt numb. And not just because of the fight.

  Silver was pregnant.

  And he knew exactly when it had happened, too. That first time, the only time their protection had failed.

  God, he had to talk to her! Though the impulse to go to her immediately was strong, he forced himself to wait. Another confrontation with Cal would only distress her more, and that was the last thing he wanted to do. Tomorrow he’d ride over to McCalls’. As soon as Cal was gone for the day he’d go into the house, make her listen to him.

  Marty sank to the step beside him and stretched his legs out. “I know how you feel about this whole mess,” he said quietly. “Genie was my sister, too.”

  “You’re wrong.” Deck turned his head and let his brother see the shame he’d hidden for so long. “You don’t know how I feel. Cal came to me first for a ride home. If I’d left with him, maybe things would have turned out differently.”

  “Like how?” Marty’s voice was sharp. “Like maybe you’d be dead instead of Genie? She was ready to leave, as I remember. If you’d gone with them, I might have lost both of you.” His voice cracked. “Sometimes I feel like only half of you was left after she died, anyway. You two always did have a special relationship that left the rest of the world out in the cold.”

  The misery in his brother’s voice grabbed at Deck’s conscience. “I never meant to make you feel—”

  “Well, you did.” Marty stood, looking out into the darkness that surrounded them. “I’m sorry Genie died. I’d have taken her place if I could have. But I can’t, and neither can you.” He nudged Deck gently with the toe of his boot. “We still have each other. And Cheyenne. And it sounds like you’ve got a shot at a whole lot more than that, if you don’t blow it.”

  “I have to see her.” He said it quietly.

  “You’d better be darn careful.” He noticed Marty didn’t bother telling him not to go near Silver. He knew better. “Cal’s pretty pissed. And with good reason. You jerk.” But his tone was fond. “What are you going to do now?”

  Deck heaved himself to his feet and followed his brother into the house. “Marry her.”

  He rode across the acres that separated the two outfits the next day at dawn. Settling himself in a copse of trees on a ridge downwind from the house, he pulled out the binoculars he’d brought along and prepared to wait. The minute Cal was out of there, he was going to talk to Silver.

  But as he sat there, letting his horse graze idly, something niggled at the back of his mind….

  No.

  Now that he was finally where he thought he’d wanted to be, it felt wrong. After a long moment of indecision, he raised the binoculars. He still was prepared to wait, but with a different goal in mind. There was something he had to do before he talked to Silver.

  Around nine, he saw Cal come out of the house and get into his shiny new truck. Instantly, he wheeled the gelding and started for the lane that ran from McCall land to the highway. The lane meandered through the countryside in a way that gave him an easy ride, and when Cal crested one hill about halfway out to the road, Deck had reined in the horse and was waiting for him.

  He could tell the moment Cal spotted him. The truck slowed to a less-than-gentle halt. Cal swung out of it seconds after the engine died and started to walk toward him, and his eyes were as flat and cold as a winter storm sky. “I told you what would happen if you came near my sister again, Stryker.”

  Deck dismounted. “I’m not here to talk to Silver right now.”

  Surprise slowed Cal’s charge. “No?”

  “I’d like to talk to you, if you’ll give me a minute before you end my life.”

  Cal’s eyes flickered. Deck wasn’t sure if it was rage or amusement, and when the bigger man’s set shoulders relaxed, a ripple of relief ran through him, though he was careful not to show it. He could hold his own in a fight anyday, but he’d promised himself he wouldn’t hurt Silver’s brother no matter what. He hadn’t been looking forward to getting slammed by those concrete fists again.

  “Start talking.” Cal crossed his arms.

  “I owe you an apology, first of all.” Deck didn’t allow himself to look away from Cal’s angry gaze. “Blaming you for Genie’s death was unfair when it happened, and I’m sorry for not getting over it.”

  Cal’s eyebrows rose, but he didn’t say a word.

  “Second,” Deck went on. “I’m sorry for using your sister to make you pay. It was wrong and there’s no excuse for it.” He eyed the grim set of Cal’s mouth. “And third, I’d like your permission to court your sister.”

  “What?” The word was an incredulous explosion. “You’ve already knocked her up; why in hell would you bother now?”

  Deck didn’t flinch. “If she’ll forgive me, I want to marry her.”

  “And how are you going to manage that?”

  Deck shrugged, heartened by the fact that Cal hadn’t hauled off and slugged him yet. “I don’t know yet.”

  Cal exhaled slowly. He put his hands on his hips and looked up, and his gaze followed the motions of a single red-tailed hawk drifting in the vast empty sky. “You should go on hating me,” he said in a quiet voice. “If I hadn’t been determined to show the world how tough I was that night, I wouldn’t have needed a ride. Indirectly, I am responsible for Genie’s death.” He looked at Deck, and the torment in his gray eyes sent a shaft of guilt straight through Deck as he realized what Cal had lived with all these years. “I’ll probably always wonder why I didn’t tell her to put on her seat belt.”

  Deck drew in a sharp breath. “You can’t blame yourself for that.”

  “Why not?” His tone was bitter. “You did.”

  “I was wrong.” Deck’s voice vibrated with the intensity of his frustration. “I blamed myself, too, you know. That’s probably why I was so hard on you. It was easier than facing myself.”

  “You didn’t do anything to feel bad about.”

  Deck snorted. “No? Who was the first person you asked for a ride?”

  A silence fell between the two men.

  “You.” It was little more than a hoarse whisper. “My God, I’d forgotten.”

  “I haven’t.” Deck took a deep breath. “But Marty said something last night that made me realize how stupid it was to go on claiming blame for the rest of my life. I’m going to let go of it, starting today, and I’m releasing you, too.”

  Another silence fell.

  Cal’s gaze met his across the distance between them. “I guess this means I don’t get to beat the tar out of you anymore.” There was the faintest hint of the easiness they’d once shared.

  Deck grinned, feeling better than he had in years. “You don’t get to try, you mean.” He gestured to the truck. “You going to town?”

  “Yep.”

  “Do you have any objections if I ride back to the house and talk to your sister?”

  Cal’s features tightened again. “I wouldn’t, if she were there.” He spread his hands. “I found a note on the table when I got home. She drove to Rapid last night.”

  “What’d she do that for?” Impatience swamped him, now that he was so close to having things back under control.

  Cal’s face was ashen beneath his newly acquired tan. “She flew home to Virginia this morning. She’s already gone.”

  Already gone? He couldn’t take it in, and he simply stood dumbly in the middle of the muddy lane.
/>   “She was supposed to stay awhile longer, but she told me yesterday she had to leave. While I was in town last night, she left me a note and took off.” Cal tipped his hat back and scratched his head. “What are you going to do?”

  “I…don’t know.” He couldn’t believe she’d left just like that, without a word to him. She was going to have his baby, dammit! How could she waltz off without even telling him? “Does she know you told me?”

  “Nope. I haven’t talked to her since then.” Cal shook his head. “You going to go after her?”

  Deck felt panicked. “I’ve never been East in my life.”

  “So you’re going to forget her.” Cal’s voice was mild.

  “Hell, no!” He reached for the trailing reins of his horse and swung himself into the saddle. “I guess I’m going to Virginia.” He turned the gelding and urged him into a trot.

  “Fly into D.C. or Richmond and catch a commuter flight to Charlottesville,” Cal called after him. “You can rent a car from there.”

  She was pregnant. As he rushed back to the Lucky Stryke, the memory of their last lovemaking preoccupied him. God, had it only been the night before last? It seemed like days. She’d been so warm and willing that he’d nearly forgotten the need for birth control. But when he’d reached for a condom she’d stopped him.

  “No. You don’t have to.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  And now he knew the meaning of the flicker of uncertainty that had flitted across her face. Why hadn’t she told him?

  Why would she, after what he’d done? If it weren’t for the way she’d responded to him two nights ago, he’d have been sure she hated him. She might still, but if she did, why had she let him make love to her? And even more important, why had she melted against him and returned his embraces, his hot caresses and deep kisses, if she didn’t care? Women didn’t do that with a man they hated.

  An hour later he was packed and explaining the whole crazy mess to Marty, when Cal’s truck came roaring back the lane.

  “Directions from the airport to the house.” Cal passed him a piece of paper. “And before you go, there’s something you should know.” He grimaced. “A couple of somethings.”

  Deck shouldered his duffel bag and started out the door. “What?”

  “Hold up. This is going to take a minute.”

  His tone of voice made Deck slow and turn. Setting a booted foot on the porch step, he lowered his duffel bag to the floor. “Okay. Talk.”

  Cal hesitated. “Did you know Silver was engaged a year ago back in Virginia?”

  Engaged. A fist grabbed at his heart and squeezed painfully, and he actually raised a hand to massage his chest. “No, I didn’t.” A horrible thought occurred to him. “Is she still engaged?”

  “No,” Cal said hastily. “She ended it. But it wasn’t pretty. He was a creep.”

  What did that mean? “Did he cheat on her?”

  “No. But…”

  “But what?”

  “Silver’s an heiress.” Cal looked him square in the eye. “Didn’t you know?”

  An heiress. Money. Probably lots of money. “No. Hell, I didn’t even know she was your sister, at first.”

  “Didn’t see the family resemblance?” Cal turned to show off his profile.

  “If she’d looked like you, she wouldn’t have had to worry about a fiancé.”

  “Hmm. That didn’t sound like a compliment. Guess you don’t want to know the rest of the story.”

  Deck glanced at the watch he’d worn today. “Yeah, I do. Pronto. I’ve got a plane to catch.”

  The laughter faded from Cal’s face. “Well, the short version is that when the guy found her money’s tied up for a long time, he ditched her. She thought he loved her, and she was pretty broken up over it. And that’s the other thing—her daddy is very protective. Silver’s his only child. When he finds out what you’ve done, he’s liable to give you an old-fashioned ass kicking.”

  Deck shouldered his duffel again. “Is that it?”

  “It? You’re going after a woman who’s going to have a hell of a time trusting you again, if her daddy even lets you see her. Yeah.” Cal nodded. “That’s it.”

  “Thanks.” Deck extended a hand and gave Cal’s big paw a firm, grateful shake. Looking at his old friend, he added “I appreciate everything.”

  Nine

  The mockingbird in the bush outside the window was making a terrible racket. Silver wondered if the neighbor’s cat had stepped into the unofficial off-limits zone again. Yesterday, while she’d been sitting on the terrace, the bird had scared the fur right off that cat with his dive-bombing attacks. The funniest part about the whole thing was that the mockingbird’s babies had left the nest the week before.

  She couldn’t even summon up the energy to laugh.

  She opened her eyes. Above her was the familiar ceiling of the bedroom she’d lived in since she could remember, painted a particular shade of “candlelight” that her mother had ordered specially mixed by a decorator. Her room had matured as she had over the years, though the color scheme had changed little. The violets, sky-blues, pale-greens, creams and soft fabrics created a soothing effect enhanced by the light streaming through the French doors that led out onto a second-floor gallery running the length of the front of her family’s antebellum home.

  Her great-great-great-grandfather had built the home well before the Civil War not far from Jefferson’s mountaintop estate, Monticello. It had been in her family through the generations and it would be hers someday.

  And it would belong to her child someday as well.

  As the pain slapped hard at her again, her breath caught in a soundless sob and she rolled over and buried her face in her pillow. She longed for Deck so desperately, nearly every minute of the day. He’d been so tender with her, so loving. Though he’d never mentioned love, she’d been sure he was planning their future together just as she was.

  But he hadn’t been. Willing the tears away, she flopped onto her back again and raised a hand. Protectively she rested her palm over her abdomen where her child was still hidden from the world.

  Her child, not anyone else’s. Deck had forfeited all rights to fatherhood when he’d deceived her so callously. A tiny twinge of guilt pricked at her conscience, though, and she defiantly dragged it out and confronted it.

  Deck hadn’t wanted her. She’d been only a means to an end. And a convenient sexual outlet. She had no obligation to give him any information about herself, and as far as she was concerned, this was something very personal about herself. He hadn’t wanted her, she reminded herself again, and he wouldn’t want her child.

  Desperately, she forced herself to think about something else. Anything else. There was no reason in the world to waste any more of her brain cells on him.

  Cal’s phone call from the night before floated into her mind and she relaxed marginally. He was such a sweetie. Then her mood sank again as she recalled the direction of the conversation.

  “How are you feeling?” he’d asked.

  “Fine,” she’d answered truthfully. She’d had no morning sickness to speak of.

  “Are you going to stay in Charlottesville?”

  “I haven’t even thought about it.” And she hadn’t. “I suppose I might as well.”

  There was a silence. “Are you planning to tell—”

  “No.”

  Another silence. “You sure? He might be sorry. He might want to—”

  “You’re crazy.” Her voice was flat. “He hates your guts. Why are you defending him?”

  “I’m not. But he is the father of your child.”

  “Biologically, yes. In any other respect that man is nothing—nothing!—to me or my child.”

  Cal had been smart enough to recognize the tone of a woman who wasn’t going to be rational on a certain subject, and the talk had moved to less explosive topics. He had bought two hundred head of cattle and was hiring cowboys to work on the ranch. The re
modeling project would be starting tomorrow, and he’d put up double sheets of plastic in the kitchen doorway to keep the worst of the mess out while the workmen were adding the rooms.

  A rancher in the next county had gotten his pelvis smashed while trailing a herd to a new pasture. He’d been taking a break, sitting in the shade with a bunch of other cowboys drinking beer and telling stories while their horses grazed nearby. When a shadow fell over him, he’d looked up just in time to see the rump end of his horse coming down right on him.

  “Nothing he could do,” Cal had said. “When a horse decides to lie down, you don’t want to be in the way.”

  “No kidding.” She’d shaken her head ruefully, wondering how the man could have not noticed his horse getting so close.

  So close…

  Why was it that she believed, time and again, that she was so close to finding all she wanted in her life? Chet had swept her off her feet, flattering her, delighting her with little romantic touches that she’d never known before. Unlike Deck, who hadn’t even bothered romancing her, Chet had spent a lot of time on the trappings of romance. She hadn’t been hard to dazzle. She’d been a very naive young woman when she’d met him.

  Her parents had kept her from forming any serious relationships at a younger age with their overprotectiveness. She’d gone to private girls-only academies throughout her educational years, up to and including college. And while she’d had a few fun little crushes during those years, she’d never felt that Mr. Right had knocked on the door to her heart.

  Which was probably why she was such an easy mark for Chet. And Deck, she thought bitterly. Did she have a sign plastered on her back that read, “All I need is a little sweet talk?”

  Things Deck had said and done had played and replayed themselves in her memory a thousand times on her trip home. She’d been home more than half a day, and the mental movies still ran relentlessly through her head.

  “This is fate,” and “I have to do this,” he’d said. She’d thought he meant she was irresistible, stupid as it seemed now. But all along, he’d had another agenda to follow. No wonder he’d been so determined to repair the rift between them after the night in her kitchen. He’d practically begged for another chance—not because he cared about her, but because he cared desperately about getting close to her so he could hurt Cal. She was incidental to his thinking except for her usefulness in that respect.