by Tessa Bowen
Ducky gave a forceful quack and glared up at her mother. Then she gestured toward the horizon.
“My word, that’s quite an alarming racket to come out of such a wee beastie,” the Duke complained. “Can’t you give her a lollie?”
“Quack!”
Abigail responded to her baby, ignoring the Duke entirely. “Go after him, you say? Right you are, Duckling.” The Baroness mobilized, handing Ducky over to Isabel. She whirled toward the paddock, seizing on the latch that bolted the fence closed.
It took the Duke a split second to register what she was doing. When he did, he bounded toward her. “No, Abigail—you can’t go in there, you’ll be trampled.”
Expertly, she saddled a horse and mounted while he stood there gaping.
“That’s a bloody Western saddle, old girl,” he spluttered as the Baroness moved out of the paddock on a mid-sized beige horse.
“I do apologize for scandalizing you, Trevor.”
“And that is a wild horse. He’ll run you right off a cliff.”
“Oh, don’t be such a Nancy-boy.”
He tried pointing his authoritative finger at her. “Get down from there at once!”
“I know what I’m doing—now hand me that rope.”
She clutched the coil tight in her fist and dug her heels in. This horse couldn’t wait to run, nor could she. Isabel’s “holy crap” was the last thing she heard before the horse took off like a bullet. She was away, in hot pursuit of true love. She had no intention of failing either. The thrill of the chase rushed through her as the landscape sped by. Before she knew it, she was moving through the crevice in the cliffs. The raging animal closed the space of the meadow in a matter of seconds. She was reminded of the exhilarating ride she’d had in Montana. He’d caught her that time and they’d made love in the cabin. This time she’d be the one to catch him. She wasn’t sure if lovemaking was in her future. She was more interested in throttling him than she was in loving him. She would catch this man once and for all—conquer him not only for herself, but for her daughter as well. He was her husband and her mate, the father of her child. She’d strangle him before she’d let him escape. It was as simple as that.
The horse slowed its pace as it made the climb to flat ground, struggling over the rough rock face as it made its ascent. Abigail gripped the reins and the powerful flanks of the horse with all her might, sweating with the effort. The horse committed to its task—as if it was on her side.
“Come on, that’s a good boy,” she coaxed. “I’ll get you a knighthood for this.”
They made it over the ridge and a gasp of wonder caught in the Baroness’s throat at the sight before her. It seemed they had climbed up to heaven itself. A grassy bluff dotted with wildflowers spread wide, overlooking a magnificent but deadly drop. She saw the valley far below, the cabin was a dot and the plane they’d flown in on only a slightly larger dot.
“My, we’ve come a long way, haven’t we?”
This winged Pegasus made better time than even the wild Mustang from Montana. She spotted John on the other side of the bluff. Or he spotted her rather. She was distracted from admiring the view when he shouted across the bluff at her.
“You’re kidding, right!”
Even from the distance she could see the fury on his face. He turned his horse and dug his heels in, intending to approach (or so she thought). She let loose a cry of outrage when he passed her by, obviously planning on making another escape.
“Oh no, you don’t!” she called out, swinging the looped rope over her head in a perfect whirl. She released the rope at just the perfect time, gripping the slack tight as the lasso met its mark. The rope dropped over his head and shoulders as he retreated, pulling fast around his torso so that he was forced to haul back on the reins and halt the horse.
He turned in the saddle, his expression incredulous. He stared down at the rope constraining him then across the length of tight coil that connected them. “How did you learn to do that?”
“I’ve had plenty of time to practice,” she told him crisply, giving the rope a good tug. “Two months in fact.”
The tension in her grip sent him tumbling off his horse. He landed in a heap in the soft grass. She was on him before he could make a move, straddling him and winding the slackened rope around his wrists, binding them tight and yanking hard to check the tautness. Her jaw was set in grim determination.
“Christ,” he rasped. “You’re a menace.”
JOHN COULD HAVE SWORN SHE’D LEVITATED like some sort of a beautiful blonde witch. How the hell had she made it off the horse and onto him so quickly? He struggled only half-heartedly, in a state of utter bewilderment as she continued to bind his wrists, pulling and yanking with little grunts.
“You’re out of control, woman. Are you trying to hog-tie me?”
She grunted again. “No, just restrain you.”
“Like a kinky thing—you’re doing it all wrong.”
“I’m not being kinky. I’m trussing you up so you can’t get away.”
“I thought you were ok with my wanderings?”
“Don’t be an ass—this time was different.”
He twisted and glanced behind him at the Silver Brumby. He’d bolted but luckily found a good place to graze and seemed quite content there. Her horse (a much more docile animal) stood patiently waiting nearby.
“You’re lucky the Silver didn’t run off—that animal is a big paycheck.”
“Since when have you cared about a paycheck?”
He ignored her question. “You promised you wouldn’t do that again.”
“Do what?”
“Chase after me on a wild horse when you’re angry.”
“And you promised me you were coming back. Instead you stormed off to bloody Australia. And I’m not angry—I’m resolute.”
“You could have killed us both.”
“You drove me to it, you frustrating man. Besides,” she said looking down her nose at him. “I executed that trick perfectly.”
His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Jeb must have given you some pointers.”
She leapt off him and placed her booted foot squarely upon his chest. “And will that send you into another jealous rage?”
“Maybe!” he exploded with a bellow, satisfied when she yelped in fright.
John jumped to his feet, his energy renewed. He easily shook off her weak bonds—she’d mastered the tossing part but she needed a Boy Scout to teach her some knot-tying skills. With a roar he broke free and stalked toward her, teeth bared.
“Oh, dear—I guess those weren’t as tight as I thought.” She stumbled back as he came for her, but then realized she was cowering and held her ground, stamping her foot. “You never even gave me a chance to explain myself. You just left!”
The rope had slipped down his body and was caught around his ankles—he kicked it free.
“I’m the one who needs to explain!” he shouted. “I thought by leaving I was communicating the problem, but I guess you didn’t get the message. Don’t you get it—I’m not cut out for this, Abbie!”
She licked her lips. “Not cut out for what?”
He sucked in a steadying breath. “Relationships…”
“You don’t want me anymore?”
His shoulders sagged and he covered his face with his hands, tugging at hanks of his hair. “Any man would want you—I just can’t do it. It’s not the commitment I have a problem with, it’s the jealousy. I can’t control it—it just takes over and I go ballistic. I’m better off alone, it’s easier for everyone that way.”
“I don’t agree. We were very happy before, we could be again.”
John shook his head. “Hopefully in time I can iron out my issues, but I’m a fucking wreck at present. You’ve already sorted yourself out—maybe it’s an age thing. You have five years on me after all.”
“You’d play the age card now?” she sniffed. “That’s not very gentlemanly of you.”
“That’s not what I meant.
I just mean you’ve changed since I met you—for the better. How have I changed?”
“You’ve become a father and a husband.”
“Yeah, a father and a husband who leaves his wife and daughter because he fears he can’t control his temper.”
“Perhaps there is someone you could speak to about this—someone who can teach you to deal with your emotions in an appropriate manner.”
“You mean like a shrink?” he scoffed.
“You suggested it to me once.”
He rolled his eyes. “Couples counseling for cowboys...”
She let out a little cry and flung herself at him, placing her hands on either side of his face. “Don’t you know I accept your passion and your possessiveness. I’ve never been wanted so completely. It feels good and right—I’m not afraid of it. I’ll weather any storm you throw my way.”
John studied her upturned face. Her eyes were luminous with feeling, her hair a wild flurry around her. There were even bits of leaves and a few flower petals scattered through it.
“I thought you were an ice queen but you’re a romantic.”
“And you are too, whether you realize it or not. I just have to help you see that you’re the only man for me. There will never be another. I certainly won’t run off with your brother, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”
He stepped away from her, looking out over the high cliffs. “I never thought you were having a thing with Jeb. I just had to get out of there, my reaction at seeing you two together was insane. It scared me—I went blind, like the whole scene was a blur. I didn’t even know who I was looking at—you and Jeb, or Jeb and Sophie.”
“You mean…you left us even though you knew we were innocent?”
“I can’t have reactions like that. It’s not healthy—so I came here to do some soul searching.”
“Soul searching…” she muttered in disbelief. The next words she spoke were screeched so loud that the Brumby bridled in the distance. “I was bloody pining away for you while you were…soul searching!”
“Uh huh,” he said in a bored tone.
“You impossible man,” she fumed. “Do you know how much I suffered? Every day I sat on the windowsill in the kitchen like a bloody lump and stared out at the road, waiting and waiting. All I ever saw was snow falling.”
“Sounds like a Norman Rockwell illustration, except the lump part.”
She let out a squeal of utter indignation and punched him hard in the chest with both fists. “I don’t know why I made this long trip for you!”
“Maybe it’s got nothing to do with me at all,” he shot back defensively. “Maybe it’s more about getting your way. I saw this same look in your eye before, months ago—when you were dead set on claiming Barrington. I think you just can’t stand to lose. You went berserk when that moron dumped you,” he spat, continuing his jealous tirade. “That’s why I’m standing here in the first place. That’s why we have a daughter together, because you can’t accept defeat. You hang onto things—sink your teeth in like a goddamn terrier.”
“I don’t think there is anything wrong with knowing what you want and fighting for it.”
John crossed his arms over his chest. “I think you want him, not me—I know you still harbor feelings for him.”
She moaned in vexation. “Can’t you bloody let it go—I have!”
“You turn to him for everything.”
“That’s not true. I only went back to England to ask Sir Archibald for help. It didn’t take long for Trevor to stick his nose in.”
“You mean it didn’t take long for you to go running to him—”
“I came running to you, you dumb blind dolt!”
“It sure took you long enough.”
She screeched again like a wild banshee, hopping on one foot as she yanked off a boot. She came at him with it, meaning to clobber him, but he held her back by the wrist. She waved the riding boot in the air (much like she had the lasso) then hurled it. She had a surprising arm on her, for the thing flew clear off the edge of the cliff.
“Oh blast,” she sighed.
Insecurity still gnawed away at John. “It wasn’t so far back that you were stuck on that freckle-faced dipshit. How can you shift gears so quickly? That guy was your entire universe,” he argued stubbornly.
She burst with fresh emotion. “Well, you’ve gone and wiped him off the face of the planet! I’m in love with you! Totally and utterly in love—I’m blind to any other but you. And I’m in love with your daughter too—I’d have a thousand of your babies if I could! You and Ducky have been the highlight of my pathetic existence! I love you, do you bloody hear me! I love you!”
“I think they can hear you all the way in Sydney—and this is a big goddamn country.”
“I’ll go work in a soup kitchen to prove my love,” she announced.
“Don’t lay it on with a shovel, Baroness.”
“Baroness—is it?” She tossed her fair head, sending her wild waves tumbling around her shoulders like she was in a shampoo ad. “Fine—I’ll donate my hair then.”
He recoiled in horror. “Oh, you couldn’t possibly.”
She heaved a noisy and very petulant sigh. “Well, what would you have me do—I’ve already lost a very nice boot today.”
He couldn’t help but laugh then—it was just one little chuckle. It slipped out in a soft breath. He supposed it was much more than laughter, it was the release of all he’d been holding.
“It’s time I give in to you,” he said simply.
She blinked twice. “Quite right…”
“I mean, do I have a choice?”
She shook her head slowly.
“You hounded me to the ends of the earth, didn’t you? You won’t let me hide anymore.”
“You’re only hiding from yourself,” she told him.
“Oh, let’s be clear. I’m hiding from you too—you’re frightening as hell.”
She fretted with a particularly unruly tendril. “Admittedly, I’m not at my best—you’ve made me positively batty.”
He caught her hand in his, his expression turning very serious. “I’m honored that you would fight so hard for me.”
She blinked only once this time. “You are?”
He nodded, his fingers encircling her wrist. He thumbed the tender inside. “Your heart is racing, Abbie.”
“You’ve made me a woman with an actual bloody pulse—now you’ll have to deal with it. There’s no going back now, you’ve melted the ice queen—I’m a soggy puddle.”
“I like you soggy.”
“You bring out the very best in me,” she blew on, missing his sexual innuendo entirely. “As for Trevor, I’m very fond of him. But I never admired him like I do you. You’re a man to be respected, in all ways. It has been a pleasure to know you, John Hale Jackson. Now, if you’ll only stop being afraid of your feelings, we could get on with it.”
He gave her a half smile, showing off one dimple. “Get on with it, huh?”
“Yes please,” was her snippy retort.
John whistled for the horse. It galloped toward them and came to stand at his side. Deliberately, he removed its saddle, bridle and bit, tossing them to the ground. He gave the horse one long stroke on its flank and then a nod of recognition. With a slap to its rump, the Silver Brumby bolted, racing back down the cliff to disappear in a metallic streak.
The buttermilk horse Abigail had ridden whinnied and shifted as if it might follow. John quickly lunged for its reins, tethering it tightly to a tree.
“Will the Silver Brumby find its way back to the paddock?” the Baroness asked in confusion.
“Not a chance—he’s not going back there.”
“Well…won’t he be difficult to catch?”
“I let him go, you dumbbell.”
“But…I thought he was a big paycheck?”
“That animal should be no man’s paycheck—he should be free. The French billionaire can choke on his snail shells.”
“Well, that’s quit
e quixotic of you, but how will you get back?”
“On your horse.”
She looked so adorable in her befuddlement he wanted to kiss her—but he wouldn’t just yet. He wanted to see her forehead scrunch up. A little later he’d brush those crinkles from her brow with his lips.
“How will I get back?”
“You’ll ride with me, Abbie—we’ll ride together.”
She licked her lips. “Together?”
He looked at her pointedly. “Yes, together. From now on—is that understood?”
“I…think so…”
“Unless you want to walk back—or I suppose I could ride back alone and tell your boyfriend to come pick you up in his toy plane.”
“I’m never sure when you’re teasing.”
“I’m teasing,” he said with a straight face.
“All you give me is that poker face after I’ve spilled my guts to you? You’re such a cruel and horrid man.”
“I said we’ll ride together, didn’t I?”
She blew her hair out of her face in annoyance. “Yes, whatever that means. I mean…does it mean anything? You say so few words while I spout off like a teakettle. And Baronesses aren’t supposed to spout.”
“Yeah, you’ve turned into a real chatterbox.”
“I told you I loved you. I’ve never said that to a man before.”
A light flickered in his mysterious eyes. “That part got through.”
“Jenny’s rag was right then,” she muttered under her breath. “How extraordinary.”
He had no idea what she was talking about. He didn’t half the time anyway. It didn’t stop him from thinking she was cute as hell though.
“Well,” she demanded, tapping her foot. “Will you ever say it back?”
“I think you’ve said everything that needs saying, for both of us.”
“If you’re all through here then you can come back home with us.” She placed her hands on her hips as if challenging him to disobey her.
“That’s right—but where do you think home is exactly?”
“Why in Montana, of course.”
“What about Sutton Place?”
“I’m giving it all to Archie. My jewels and gowns are going to Gracie. I don’t want anything to do with England anymore. I want Ducky to be raised in Montana.”
