by Susan Ward
“Khloe, what’s wrong? You’re not having trouble breathing because of the altitude, are you?” Damon’s worried voice startled me as he came forward until his body was close against my back and placed one arm around me.
“No. I’m fine.” I smiled back at him over my shoulder. “It’s just everything is different. So beautiful. I don’t want to miss any of it. I want to memorize every moment, everything I feel and see, so I won’t ever forget what this day was. Can we take our time getting to the house?”
Damon’s gaze softened, and he jutted his chin. “It’s a bit of a drive, but we’ll go slowly. The cars are waiting. Why don’t we get you in one?”
I spotted a small caravan parked at the edge of the tarmac. Three giant lifted trucks with two men in each cab and an empty Mercedes Benz G-Class SUV that I was positive wasn’t a factory model but fully armored like my family’s fleet of SUVs at home. It made me sad to see an armored vehicle here in this gloriously tranquil place. It reminded me that the world, which felt so far away from where I stood, wasn’t so far away that Damon could abandon all measures of security.
“You’re going to drive?” I asked in surprise as I made my way down the steps.
Damon laughed. “Don’t say it that way. I’m an excellent driver. I started driving myself on the moors at Deverell Castle when I was in short pants. There were few enough freedoms when I was a lad. Taking off on my own when we went stalking was one of them.”
“Stalking? Aha, so you have a history of stalking that precedes me. And here I thought I was the only girl you ever stalked. The truth comes out at last.”
“No, I stalked my first love.”
I lifted my brows as if indignant. “Really, and who would that be?”
“Red stag. Stalking is what we call hunting,” he explained, amused. “I would have thought you’d heard that term from Alan before.”
“Why? Dad doesn’t hunt. He’s the gentlest man ever.” I crinkled my nose. “I can’t believe you used to shoot animals. Please tell me you don’t do that here.”
He gave me a pained expression. “Hunting is an important part of balancing the animal population. It’s part of preserving the health of the herd.”
“Not anymore it’s not,” I announced determinedly as we crossed the tarmac toward the vehicles.
“They only permit hunting in the fall here. Can we discuss it then?” There was an adorable exasperation to his voice; Damon thought I was serious.
I gave him a slight shrug. “My answer is still going to be no.”
“Maybe not. I’ll have nine months to work on a yes.”
Nine months of Damon trying to persuade me; a delicious shiver moved through my flesh. “Good luck with that.”
“Game on. I plan to be very persuasive.”
What was in his gaze and voice made my face flush. He smiled, kissed me, and extended a hand to the man waiting outside our Mercedes.
“Mr. Freeburg, thank you for meeting us,” he said graciously as the older man firmly shook his hand.
Curious since Damon had said this man and his wife were apt to be the only people we ever saw on the ranch, I did a quick study of him. He was near seventy, built like what I imagined a cowboy’s body would be—strong with thick arms and legs—though several inches shorter than Damon, and his weather-beaten face didn’t break a smile. He was wearing worn leather boots, dark jeans, a thick red and black wool jacket that reached his hips, gloves, and a felt hat.
“Allow me to introduce my fiancée, Khloe.” Damon said proudly. Our news registered no surprise on Freeburg’s face, and when his severe blue eyes fixed on me, I had to force a polite smile. To me, Damon said, “Mr. Freeburg has been on Winderly Ranch his entire life. I couldn’t keep the place going without him, Khloe.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
He took off his hat, bobbed his head, and quickly covered his graying hair. “Are you all right driving to the house on your own, sir? I need to get these men unloading the plane before the sun sets.”
“We’ll be fine,” Damon said, showing no offense to the man’s comment, though I’d personally found it rude. “Please make sure that the men handle everything with care.”
Without a reply, Mr. Freeburg lumbered off to his men.
“Not exactly a friendly guy, is he?” I asked Damon once the older man was out of earshot.
“He’s not much for conversation, KK, but you won’t find a finer chap than Freeburg. He’s one of the few men on this earth I trust completely. His wife as well.”
“Really?” My surprise was genuine, and I couldn’t hide it. I glanced over my shoulder to catch another glimpse of him. Mr. Freeburg appeared very taciturn to me.
“Yes. You’ll understand why once you’ve been here for a bit,” Damon assured, opening the car door for me.
I settled into the passenger seat, and he went around the front of the car to get into the driver’s seat.
“Comfortable?” he asked as he tapped on the ignition.
“Yes.” I leaned close into him.
“There’s a blanket at your feet if you need it.”
I glanced down. A fur throw was neatly folded on the floorboard. It looked so soft and luxurious that I reached out and ran my fingers over it. “Ah, what is this? It feels wonderful. Mom doesn’t allow real-fur anything at our house.”
“It’s sable. It was my mum’s favorite. Haven’t you felt sable before?” I shook my head, and his brows jetted up. “No? Interesting. Your father’s the third richest man in the world, and your family has leather everything, but no fur.”
How he said that made me laugh. “Fur is politically incorrect to own in California, and in case you missed it, Mom isn’t always consistent.”
Damon bit back a smile. “I hadn’t noticed.”
I rolled my eyes, lay my cheek against his bicep, and stared through the windshield. “Another first ‘first,’ Damon.”
“Feeling real fur?” His brow puckered.
I shook my head and kissed his arm. “No, being alone with you in a car, knowing that very soon we’ll be alone in our own house together.”
He pressed his cheek against my head, and for some unfathomable reason, I suddenly felt shy with him. I couldn’t imagine why. A few hours earlier we’d been tangled up in each other, making passionate love on the plane. He’d been with me night and day for weeks and had seen me at my worst because of my illness. We’d spent months alone together in Venice during my best days, yet this felt different, like we weren’t pretending to live our lives together. We were really doing it.
I gazed out the window as we headed down the narrow road that curved through barren trees and heavily snow-covered land. The crystal blue sky looked so close to the earth here, and all around us stood the Tetons, capped with snow, majestically tall and dramatic. The land was every bit as breathtaking as Damon said it would be.
I felt far removed from Jackson Hole, the trendy scene of the rich and famous during ski season, almost as if we were in another world. And maybe we were in another world. Damon and Khloe’s world. I liked that thought.
The familiar warmth I felt whenever I considered myself completely one with Damon unfurled through my body. We were in our own heaven on earth, and I’d done nothing to deserve it except let this man love me.
“Haven’t you ever been outside of Jackson Hole?” Damon asked, dragging me out of my reverie.
“No. It’s the first time.”
“Another first ‘first.’” He grinned. “That makes three today. It’s going to be hard to choose a favorite. They’ve all been pretty terrific.”
I lifted my nose. “I would have thought initiating me into the mile-high club would have won hands down for you.”
“Initiating us,” he corrected.
Oh.
He slipped his arm around my shoulders and held me close. “It’s a toss-up, heart of my heart, between making love with you on the jet and how you’re l
ooking at me right now.”
I was sure my smile was dopey happy. My gaze lifted to his, and my pulse jumped. And I wanted to remember forever how Damon looked at me then.
He kissed me fast, a tender, sweet, and loving kiss, then took his arm from around me, putting both hands on the steering wheel. Ahead there were open black iron gates, and we passed between heavy walls of stone. We began to climb the side of a valley, up a bumpy twisting mountain road. The higher we went, the more excited I got because I knew we were almost to the house.
Damon suddenly went a bit tense against me.
“What’s wrong?”
“I hope you like it,” he said, a bit apprehensive and completely unlike him. “You’re the first person I’ve ever brought here.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “It’s always been my private refuge from the world, and I’ve never cared enough about anyone to want to share it with them…until I met you.”
His comment surprised me. We went around a bend in the road, and I looked straight ahead. My eyes flew wide as I rapidly scanned the large looming structure.
I didn’t know what I expected, but it hadn’t been this. He was British royalty, after all, and while the structure before me was stunning, it was nothing like I imagined it would be. In fact, it was as unlikely a setting for Damon as one could imagine, and I realized I’d somehow never asked for a single detail about where we would make our home.
The Mercedes came to a stop beside an impressive, massive log cabin, though to call it a log cabin was an understatement, as the house was nearly as large as a castle. There was a double front door, walls of ginormous tree trunks, mixed-stone patios littered with benches and wingback chairs, and well-lit brick walkways.
“Say something fast, KK, so that I know this is all right for you,” he said anxiously, and I realized I was gaping.
“All right? It’s magnificent, Damon.” I threw open my door and sprang from the seat. “Hurry up. Get out. I want to see everything.”
I whirled back around, and to my back Damon said, “KK, wait.”
“I don’t want to wait. I’m too excited.” I went up the brick walkway and was almost at the long row of steps before Damon caught me.
“No. You’re going to enter our home the right way the first time.” He scooped me up in his arms and held me against his chest.
Laughing, I looped my arms around his neck. “You’re not supposed to carry me in. We’re not married. Just shacking up, Wyoming style.”
He silenced me with his lips in a deep open-mouthed kiss and somehow managed to get the door opened for us. He staggered inside, kicking the door closed behind him.
“Welcome home, sir,” said a prim female voice, and abruptly the forward motion of his body and our kiss ended.
“Mrs. Freeburg,” Damon announced smoothly, and I suddenly felt awkward held in his arms. Cringing inside, I turned my head to find a small elderly woman with jet black hair dusted in gray pulled tightly into a bun. She didn’t look any more affable than her husband did. How her sharp brown eyes stared at us didn’t faze Damon in the least, and graciously he added, “It’s good to be home. I trust you’ve arranged things as I requested.”
“Yes. Everything has been completed exactly as you requested.”
Mrs. Freeburg’s eyes shifted briefly from Damon to me, then returned to him.
“Oh, so sorry, Mrs. Freeburg. Where are my manners? This is Khloe. My fiancée.”
I could tell by her expression she wasn’t any more surprised by the news we were engaged than her husband was, and I remembered Damon’s prior remark about how he trusted them. I smiled. “Hello. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
She smiled slightly. “Would you like me to show her the house, or would you prefer to do that, sir?”
Damon set me on my feet. “I’d rather do that myself.” He took my hand and led me across the foyer.
“I’ve taken care of everything for tonight, as you asked. Dinner will be served promptly at seven,” she informed him. “And I’ll see that your luggage is brought to your room and unpacked once the men get here with them.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Freeburg.” His fingers lightly squeezed mine, then he whisked me down a hallway through a maze of high-ceilinged rooms, rustically elegant and with every modern convenience: the wine cellar, the den, the state-of-the-art kitchen. There were ten upstairs bedrooms with en suite bathrooms, and at the end of the long hallway, another staircase that returned us to the ground floor near the master suite.
“You can change anything you want, Khloe. This is our room now. I want it to be perfect for you.”
He opened the door and waited for me to precede him. The four-poster bed was huge, larger than any I’d ever seen, with a giant wood headboard engraved with a crest on it. It faced a wall of glass that looked out over the verdant mountains and another that was filled with a full-wall stone hearth. The flow of the room was comfortable and spacious with sitting areas before the fireplace and another in front of the full-wall flat screen. Through the French doors was a covered patio with fire pits dotting the seating areas.
“The patio faces east, Khloe. You can sit there to watch the dawn,” Damon began hesitantly, eyeing me. He stood in the doorway, vulnerable and eager, and how he looked clogged my throat with emotion. “I had Mrs. Freeburg supervise the furniture being rearranged so you could watch the dawn from bed when…it’s too cold.”
I nodded, too choked up to speak. It amazed me how nothing was too trivial to be overlooked by Damon, not even my comfort during my daily ritual of watching the sunrise.
“You’re very quiet, KK. Will this work for you?”
“It’s wonderful, Damon.” Suddenly, I was aching to be in his arms. “It’s perfect.”
And it was. But it had nothing to do with the house and everything to do with Damon.
Chapter Twelve
Khloe
The Past
WE SAT SIDE BY SIDE on the porch swing, snug beneath a heavy quilt, the heating lamps lit and close to us as we watched my first sunset in Wyoming. I curled into Damon as he made our seat slowly sway. The sun dipped behind the Tetons, the mark of the end of another day, and I was sure it’d been as darn near perfect as any could be.
Mrs. Freeburg surprised us with steaming-hot White Russian coffees and a before-dinner platter of caviar and other assorted indulgences, then announced she was off to unpack our bags. I would have preferred to put away my own things—thank you very much—but I didn’t want to mar our bliss, especially not with such a trivial complaint.
“Are you warm enough, heart of my heart?” Damon asked, taking my mug from the side table and handing it to me.
I took a sip of my coffee and smiled. “I’ll be very warm if I manage to finish my drink. And you may end up outta luck for whatever you’re scheming after dinner. This cocktail is delicious, but I think Mrs. Freeburg has a bit of a heavy hand with the booze. She’s mixed it almost as strong as one of my dad’s coffee creations.”
“Scheming? What makes you think I’m scheming something?” He pretended to be offended.
I gave him the look. “You’re not half as good as I am at being sneaky, Damon. Let’s start with how you rushed me out of the house once our things arrived from the landing strip. All those extra containers—”
“I didn’t rush you. I didn’t want you to miss your first sunset here.”
“A likely story, but I’m onto you.”
With a thumb and index finger he rubbed his chin and made a charmingly rueful expression. “I hope not.”
“Something you don’t want me to see is going on inside that house.” Wide-eyed, I stared at him. He met my gaze evenly, nothing changing on his face. Slouching into him, I pouted. “I don’t like surprises, Damon. I should have told you that. Now that you know, don’t surprise me.”
“You love surprises, Khloe. Makes me feel bad that there isn’t one waiting for you inside the house as you e
xpect.”
Damon checked his watch, took my coffee, and put aside our blanket. “Time for dinner, KK. We can continue this discussion afterward if you want to.”
He rose and held out a hand to me.
My gaze narrowed. “No, you don’t have me fooled.”
“I’m famished. Let’s go eat dinner.”
When I didn’t immediately stand, he laughed and grabbed my hand, tugging me from the swing. “Once the sun is gone,” he remarked, “the temperature drops rapidly, love. Never have an argument after sunset outside. Not in Wyoming.”
I arched a brow. “Exactly who would you have had an argument with here? I thought you’d never brought a girl to your house before.”
“I haven’t.”
“Just checking.” I smiled sweetly, and he groaned.
As we strode into the house, I noted I was in one of my cheeky moods, as Damon called them, otherwise I wouldn’t have taunted him in that suspicious-girl way, but it was still kinda unbelievable to me that he’d never brought a love interest to Winderly Ranch before. It was the perfect royal sex pad for having a discreet affair. His past hadn’t been exactly that of a saint, and while it wouldn’t truly make me jealous to know he’d been with someone else here, I admitted I most probably wouldn’t like it.
Just outside the open dining room doors, he put his fingers lightly around my upper arms, stopping and turning me toward him. “There is a surprise.”
How his eyes gleamed made my pulse jump. “What did you do, Damon?”
“I hope you like it and don’t get angry with me. Close your eyes.”
Angry with him? I couldn’t imagine why he said that.
“That doesn’t sound good, Damon.” I tightly shut my lids and smiled. “What do we do if I don’t like it? Can we send it back?”
“No, and I think you’re going to like it once I’ve explained,” he said, sounding tentative in that hoping this guy got it right kind of way. “It solved two very large problems in bringing you to the ranch with a single decision.”
