Into the Arms of a Cowboy

by Isabella Ashe

  “So why leave me?” He took her by the shoulder and glared into her stricken face. “Not even a goodbye. Just a note saying I’d never see you again. Why?”

  “Because. . . .” Her voice cracked, and she would have slumped to the floor if he hadn’t threaded an arm around her waist. “I did it for you. Because I love you,” she whispered against his shoulder, in a tone of utter defeat.

  Wild joy pushed out the anger coursing through Jess’s veins. He pulled Cassie tighter against his chest. He brushed her ear with his mouth. “Say it again,” he demanded.

  “I love you.” The will to resist had gone out of her. He could feel her complete surrender now, as she pressed herself against him. “I love you,” Cassie said again, a hint of pleasure creeping into her voice. “Jess, I really do. More than anything. But the reason I couldn’t tell you that--the reason I--” She broke off and pulled away from him as a new realization dawning.

  “You know already,” she accused him. “You must know, or else how did you find me?”

  Jess sobered, his happiness tempered by the knowledge that Cassie was still missing some crucial facts. “Can I come in? We need to talk.”

  “Of course.” She stood back, let him pass into the living room, then followed him to the living. He settled himself on an orange loveseat. Cassie perched next to him, on the very edge of the couch. “I know it looks bad,” she said, her face pinched and anxious. “But before you judge me, I have to tell you what really happened. It’s not what you think. I mean, I did kill Andrew, but it wasn’t on purpose. I swear it wasn’t.”

  “Cassie.” He took her pale hand in his. She was trembling. “I know. I know exactly what happened that night.”

  She blinked at him, her expression still frightened. “You do? But the murder charges. . . .”

  “There are no charges.”

  “What? Of course there are. That’s why I left you. I couldn’t put you through that--a trial, the publicity--not when I’d already made you into an unknowing accomplice. Besides, I was afraid you wouldn’t believe me. About how he tried to rape me, and how I--” She choked on her words, unable to go on.

  He brought his face close to hers, almost close enough to touch those sweet, gently rounded cheeks he loved so much. “Listen to me very carefully now, Cassie. You were never charged with murder. It’s true that the police were looking for you, but only because one of your friends filed a missing persons report, and then the police detectives matched your photo to the video.”

  “The--the video?” She shook her head in confusion. “I don’t understand why I’m not accused of murder. Andrew was dead when I left him. I know he was! I did it. I hit him with the fireplace poker, and when he fell he hit his head again.” She raised her haunted eyes to meet his. “I had his blood on my hands.”

  “I know. I saw it happen.”

  She shot him a baffled look. “How?”

  “Cassie, when Angela showed me the missing persons report, I made a few phone calls. I ended up in the office of the assistant district attorney in charge of the case. She showed me the videotape--the one Andrew Chabot made the night he died.” Jess’s jaw clenched as the horrifying images flitted through his mind. He’d watched the footage with his hands balled into fists, his fingernails cutting red half-moons into his palms.

  “But there was no camera,” Cassie protested, her brow creased with anxious puzzlement. “Not that I saw, at least.”

  “Turns out that the bastard liked to film his ‘conquests’.” Jess gritted his teeth against the red-hot rage exploding again in his chest. “When police searched the house, they found a camera hidden above the fireplace. Apparently, he used a hidden switch to turn it on when he brought his dates home.”

  Amazement and relief transformed Cassie’s face. Color flooded back into her cheeks. “It was all on tape? The way he pushed me down, hit me. . .?”

  “That’s right.” Watching, he’d had to fight back the bile rising in his throat. It was one thing to know, abstractly, that an anonymous man had hurt the woman he loved. It was something else to actually watch the attack on film. Afterwards, he’d run to the restroom and lost his lunch. But Cassie didn’t need to know that. She had enough to deal with.

  “It’s all there,” Jess continued. “What he did to you, and the way you fought back. A clear case of self-defense. I was--” He cleared his clogged throat. “I was proud of you. And here’s something else. They found other videotapes. On some, the sex was apparently consensual. On others--well, you weren’t the first woman attacked by that pathetic excuse for a human being.”

  “He raped them?” Cassie whispered.

  Jess nodded grimly. “But he got away with it, before. The women never went to the police. He threatened them, and said no one would believe their story.”

  “I thought the same thing.” Cassie shivered, her eyes dark and clouded with regret. “And all this time, I was running from nothing. I left you for nothing.”

  Jess’s stomach roiled as he remembered how he’d rushed back to the cabin that morning, only to find Cassie gone. Briefly, furiously, he’d relived Danielle’s desertion. But sorrow and fear had quickly replaced his anger. Cassie wasn’t Danielle. He knew that beyond a shadow of a doubt.

  Now he merely shook his head and touched her cheek with gentle fingers. “Cassie, Cassie. . .I wish you’d trusted me, but I understand why you couldn’t. You’ve gone your whole life without anyone to love you the way I do.” He leaned forward, taking both of her hands in his. “Darlin’, I wouldn’t care if you were a cold-blooded killer. I’d still love you.”

  She let out a strained little laugh. “Really?”

  “Yup. Well--” He shrugged and chuckled. “Don’t go getting any ideas, now.”

  “Don’t worry,” she teased, her voice still a little wobbly. “My cold-blooded killer days are behind me.”

  He adopted a look of mock sternness. “Good. My career with the sheriff’s office might suffer if I marry a murderess.”

  “Marry a--” Her eyes widened, brightened, and suddenly swam in sparkling tears. “Does this mean I’m forgiven for running off?”

  “It does. I was angry as hell about it, but the thing is, Cassie, you don’t stop loving a person just because you’re angry at her. And I have to admit, your intentions were noble.” He grinned. “There’s just one thing I don’t understand.”

  “What’s that?”

  “How you could ever think I’d let you get away.”

  “Oh, Jess,” she sighed. A moment later, she was in his arms. He wasn’t sure how she got there, but he had no complaints. He twined his fingers through her hair and pulled her closer.

  He dipped his head and pressed his lips to hers, savoring the sweet taste of her for an instant before he coaxed her lips apart. His tongue swept over the delicate ridges on the roof of her mouth. She responded with a total surrender that quickened the blood in his veins and ignited a fire in his belly. But there would be time enough for that later. A whole lifetime of passion.

  “You never answered my question,” he whispered against her mouth.

  “Which question?”

  “The one I asked last night.” He fumbled in his pocket and withdrew the ring she’d left behind, concealing it in his palm. “Will you marry me, Cassandra Carlisle?”

  She pulled away from him. For a long, intense moment she studied his face. Then she slowly nodded. “Yes,” she said, in careful, formal tones. “Yes, Jess, I most certainly will.”

  “Give me your hand.”

  She obeyed, and gasped as he produced the gold and platinum ring. “You brought it!”

  “I hoped it might come in handy.” He slid it onto her finger, then glanced at her face. “Why are you crying?”

  “Oh, that.” She scrubbed at her cheeks with her palm, smiling through her tears. “I cry at the drop of a hat, remember?”

  “Right. Hallmark commercials.”

  “And Goldilocks cottages. And marriage proposals.” As she wound her arms
around her neck, her smile widening into an expression of true bliss. “Especially marriage proposals.”

  “Well, cut it out.” He planted a kiss on the end of her upturned little nose, his heart full almost beyond bearing. “From now on, you won’t have time to cry.”

  “Oh?”

  “That’s right.” He glanced around her living room. “We’ve got packing to do, a wedding to plan. . . .”

  “And a building to rent.” She saw his puzzlement, and laughed. “For my photo studio, silly. The one I’m going to open in downtown Bitter Creek.”

  “Right. And contractors to hire.”

  “Contractors?”

  “Sure. There’s an empty plot of land down by the orchard. I thought maybe a house with lots of windows to let in the sunlight, plus enough room for a bunch of animals. . . .”

  Cassie sighed happily. “And--and maybe for a baby or two, one of these days?”

  “One of these days?” He brushed a satiny strand of hair from her cheek. “How about a whole lot sooner?”

  He kissed her again, running his tongue over her teeth and nibbling her upper lip until she moaned and pressed her soft breasts against his chest. “How about we start trying right away?” she whispered.

  Jess had no objections.

  EPILOGUE

  Real stars.

  There were real stars above her bed tonight. Cassie stared up through the glass in the ceiling at her kaleidoscopic view of the night sky. She lay with her head pillowed on Jess’s shoulder. Her husband of seven months slept soundly, his breathing deep and even. It was their first night in their new house next to the apple orchard, in a master bedroom smelling faintly of fresh paint and new-cut pine.

  The digital clock on the bedside flipped from 2:28 to 2:29 a.m. Cassie reached over and switched off the alarm before it could buzz and disturb Jess. They’d spent the weekend together at a rodeo on the central coast, where she’d watched Jess win the calf-roping event. He’d given up the bulls and broncs now. But Cassie would never dream of asking Jess to abandon rodeo completely. The arena, the cheers, the adrenaline rush, even the danger--that was all part and parcel of the man she loved.

  Now she slowly lifted her head from his shoulder, careful not to wake him. But he must have sensed her movement because he opened his eyes anyway. His lids appeared heavy with fatigue as he peered at her in the dim light.

  “My turn to feed the little ones?”

  “Shh, go back to sleep,” Cassie whispered. “I’ll get it. I’m awake anyway.”

  “Mmm. Thanks, darlin’.” He was asleep again in an instant.

  Cassie slipped out from under the quilt and padded barefoot to the kitchen. She heated two bottles, squeezed a few drops onto her forearm to test the temperature, then pushed her feet into a pair of worn sneakers and headed for the front door.

  Harry lifted his shaggy head as she stepped out onto the balcony. He was still as ugly as ever, still a black-and-tan mutt with wiry fur, floppy ears, and a pushed in nose, but Cassie had to admit she’d grown fond of the wretched creature. He was still a one-man dog--Jess’s dog--but tonight he crept from his new doghouse and loped along at her heels as she climbed the hill to the cabin.

  As she walked, she thought of Scamp and Rascal with a faint ache in her heart. They’d quickly grown into fat, rambunctious young raccoons. With Jess’s help, Cassie had taught them to climb trees and forage for themselves. With each lesson it grew more and more difficult to lure them back. Finally, in July, Cassie and Jess packed them into the pickup truck and driven further up into the mountains.

  Cassie would always treasure the last photo she’d taken of the pair as they paused, torn and uncertain, at the edge of the woods. Finally, Scamp--always the more aggressive brother--turned and slipped away for good. Rascal followed, more slowly, and then picked up speed as the forest claimed him. It was the life they were meant for, though Cassie had cried that day and missed them still.

  But she had more wild babies now. She pushed open the door of the newly redone cabin and found Samson and Delilah waiting in their pens. The orphaned fawns turned their soft brown eyes on her with more interest than fear. Cassie’s heart jumped a little with relief. It had been touch and go for a few days, but Jess thought they’d make it. They wanted to live now, and that would make all the difference.

  When she slid back into bed fifteen minutes later, bringing some of the cool night air with her, Jess woke a second time. “Thanks, Cassie. I owe you one,” he whispered. He drew himself up on one elbow, leaned over, and planted a kiss just to the right of her waiting mouth. “Oops, I missed.”

  Cassie laughed and kissed him back, this time hitting the target. She let Jess pull her tight against him under the quilt. Her distended belly pressed into his taut abdomen. Cassie savored his familiar, masculine scent and his sleep-warmed skin against hers. “Lazybones,” she teased. “Don’t think you’ll get away with this kind of behavior once our son gets himself born.”

  Jess’s hand crept down under the blankets. He spread his palm over her stomach, which, five months into the pregnancy, seemed to expand almost daily now. “Could be a daughter,” Jess murmured.

  As he spoke, Cassie felt a very definite flutter of movement inside her womb. She let out a small yelp of surprise.

  “Hey, what was that?” Jess asked, suddenly wide awake.

  “I think the baby moved.”

  Another internal jolt, and this time there was no doubt about it.

  Cassie’s eyes widened. “Oh, Jess. This all of a sudden makes it more. . .more real, doesn’t it?”

  “Sure does.” Jess’s face glowed with excitement. He looked awed. Tender.

  As she huddled under the quilt, warming up with Jess’s hand still on her belly, a wave of pure joy made Cassie’s head swim. Just when she’d least expected it, she’d found everything she had ever wanted. Drowsily, she listed off the things she was grateful for.

  Number one, Jess.

  Number two, their baby.

  Number three, her wonderful friends: Gus, Ruby, Tanya, Angela, Chad, and too many more to name.

  Number four. . . .but she never made it to number four, or the rest of the hundred things she treasured. Instead, she drifted off to sleep, a blissful smile still curving her lips.