Boundary Lines

by Nora Roberts

  And what? she asked herself. Half the time she didn’t know what she wanted to do, how she felt, what she thought. The one thing she was certain of was that she’d never spent three more miserable weeks in her life. It was perilously close to grief.

  Something had died in her when he’d left—something she hadn’t acknowledged had been alive. She’d convinced herself that she wouldn’t fall in love with him. It would be impossible to count the times she’d told herself it wouldn’t happen—even after it already had. Why hadn’t she recognized it?

  Jillian supposed it wasn’t always easy to recognize something you’d never experienced before. Especially when it had no explanation. A woman so accustomed to getting and going her own way had no business falling for a man who was equally obstinate and independent.

  Falling in love. Jillian thought it an apt phrase. When it happened you just lost your foothold and plunged.

  Maybe he’d meant it, she thought. Maybe they had been more than words to him. If he loved her back, didn’t it mean she had someone to hold on to while she was falling? She let out a long breath as she pulled up in front of the ranch house. If he’d meant it, why wasn’t he here? Mistake, she told herself with forced calm. It was always a mistake to depend too much. People pulled back or just went away. But if she could only see him again . . .

  “Going to just sit there in that Jeep all morning?”

  With a jerk, Jillian turned to watch Paul Murdock take a few slow, measured steps out onto the porch. She got out of the Jeep, wondering which of the excuses she’d made up before she’d set out would work the best.

  “Sit,” Murdock ordered before she could come to a decision. “Karen’s fixing up a pitcher of tea.”

  “Thank you.” Feeling awkward, she sat on the edge of the porch swing and searched for something to say.

  “He hasn’t come down from the camp yet,” Murdock told her bluntly as he lowered himself into a rocker. “Don’t frazzle your brain, girl,” he ordered with an impatient brush of his hand. “I may be old, but I can see what’s going on under my nose. What’d the two of you spat about?”

  “Paul.” Karen carried a tray laden with glasses and an iced pitcher. “Jillian’s entitled to her privacy.”

  “Privacy!” he snorted while Karen arranged the tray on a table. “She’s dangling after my son.”

  “Dangling!” Jillian was on her feet in a flash. “I don’t dangle after anything or anyone. If I want something, I get it.”

  He laughed, rocking back and forth and wheezing with the effort as she glared down at him. “I like you, girl, damn if I don’t. Got a fetching face, doesn’t she, Karen?”

  “Lovely.” With a smile, Karen offered Jillian a glass of tea.

  “Thank you.” Stiffly she took her seat again. “I just stopped by to let Aaron know that the mare’s doing well. The vet was by yesterday to check her out.”

  “That the best you could do?” Murdock demanded.

  “Paul.” Karen sat on the arm of the rocker and laid a hand on his arm.

  “If I want manure, all I have to do is walk my own pasture,” he grumbled, then pointed his cane at Jillian. “You going to tell me you don’t want my boy?”

  “Mr. Murdock,” Jillian began with icy dignity, “Aaron and I have a business arrangement.”

  “When a man’s dying he doesn’t like to waste time,” Murdock said with a scowl. “Now, you want to look me in the eye and tell me straight you’ve got no feelings for that son of mine, fine. We’ll talk about the weather a bit.”

  Jillian opened her mouth, then closed it again with a helpless shake of her head. “When’s he coming back?” she whispered. “It’s been three weeks.”

  “He’ll come back when he stops being as thickheaded as you are,” Murdock told her curtly.

  “I don’t know what to do.” After the words had tumbled out, she sat in amazement. She’d never in her life said that out loud to anyone.

  “What do you want?” Karen asked her.

  Jillian looked over and studied them—the old man and his beautiful wife. Karen’s hand was over his on top of the cane. Their shoulders brushed. A few scattered times in her life she’d seen that kind of perfect intimacy that came from deep abiding love. It was easy to recognize, enviable. And a little scary. It came as a shock to discover she wanted that for herself. One man, one lifetime. But if that was ultimately what love equaled for her, she understood it had to be a shared dream.

  “I’m still finding out,” she murmured.

  “That Jeep.” Murdock nodded toward it. “You wouldn’t have any trouble getting up to the line camp in a four-wheel drive.”

  Jillian smiled and set her glass aside. “I can’t do it that way. It wouldn’t work for me if I didn’t meet him on equal terms.”

  “Stubborn young fool,” Murdock grumbled.

  “Yes.” Jillian smiled again as she rose. “If he wants me, that’s what he’s going to get.” The sound of an engine had her glancing over. When she recognized Gil’s truck, she frowned and started down the steps.

  “Ma’am.” He tipped his hat to Karen but didn’t even open the door of the truck. “Mr. Murdock. Got a problem,” he said briefly, shifting his eyes to Jillian.

  “What is it?”

  “Sheriff called. Seems your yearling’s been identified on a spread ’bout hundred and fifty miles south of here. Wants you to go down and take a look for yourself.”

  Jillian gripped the bottom of the open window. “Where?”

  “Old Larraby spread. I’ll take you now.”

  “Leave your Jeep here,” Murdock told her, getting to his feet. “One of my men’ll take it back to your place.”

  “Thanks.” Quickly she dashed around to the other side of the truck. “Let’s go,” she ordered the moment the door shut beside her. “How, Gil?” she demanded as they drove out of the ranch yard. “Who identified him?”

  Gil spit out the window and felt rather pleased with himself. “Aaron Murdock.”

  “Aaron—”

  Gil was a bit more pleased when Jillian’s mouth fell open. “Yep.” When he came to the fork in the road, he headed south at a steady, mile-eating clip.

  “But how? Aaron’s been up at his line camp for weeks, and—”

  “Maybe you’d like to settle down so I can tell you, or maybe you wouldn’t.”

  Seething with impatience, Jillian subsided. “Tell me.”

  “Seems one of the Murdock men had a hand in the rustling, fellow named Jennsen. Well, he wasn’t too happy with his cut and gambled away most of it anyhow. Decided if they could slice off five hundred and get away with it, he’d take one more for himself.”

  “Baby,” Jillian muttered and crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Yep. Had himself a tiger by the tail there. Knew the makings of a prize bull when he saw it and took it over to Larraby. Used to work there before Larraby fell on hard times. Anyhow, he started to get nervous once the man who headed up the rustling got wind of who took the little bull, figured he better get it off his hands. Last night he tried to sell him to Aaron Murdock.”

  “I see.” That was one more she owed him, Jillian thought with a scowl. It was hard to meet a man toe to toe when you were piling up debts. “If it is Baby, and this Jennsen was involved, we’ll get the rest of them.”

  “We’ll see if it’s Baby,” Gil said, then eased a cautious look at her. “The sheriff’s already rounding up the rest of them. Picked up Joe Carlson a couple hours ago.”

  “Joe?” Stunned, she turned completely around in her seat to stare at Gil. “Joe Carlson?”

  “Seems he bought himself a little place over in Wyoming. From the sound of it, he’s already got a couple hundred head of your cattle grazing there.”

  “Joe.” Shifting, Jillian stared straight ahead. So much for trust, she thought. So much for her expert reading of character. Clay hadn’t wanted to hire him—she’d insisted. One of her first major independent decisions on Utopia had been her first major mi
stake.

  “Guess he fooled me too,” Gil muttered after a moment. “Knew his cattle front and back.” He spit again and set his teeth. “Shoulda known better than to trust a man with soft hands and a clean hat.”

  “I hired him,” Jillian muttered.

  “I worked with him,” Gil tossed back. “Side by side. And if you don’t think that sticks in my craw, then you ain’t too smart. Bamboozled me,” he grumbled. “Me!”

  It was his insulted pride that made her laugh. Jillian propped her feet up on the dash. What was done was over, she told herself. She was going to get a good chunk of her cattle back and see justice done. And at roundup time her books would shift back into the black. Maybe they’d have that new Jeep after all. “Did you get the full story from the sheriff?”

  “Aaron Murdock,” Gil told her. “He came by right before I set out after you.”

  “He came by the ranch?” she asked with a casualness that wouldn’t have fooled anyone.

  “Stopped by so I’d have the details.”

  “Did he—ah—say anything else?”

  “Just that he had a lot of things to see to. Busy man.”

  “Oh.” Jillian turned her head and stared out the window. Gil took a chance and grinned hugely.

  * * *

  She waited until it was nearly dark. It was impossible to bank down the hope that he’d come by or call, if only to see that everything had gone well. She worked out a dozen opening speeches and revised them. She paced. When she knew that she’d scream if she spent another minute within four walls, Jillian went out to the stables and saddled her mare.

  “Men,” she grumbled as she pulled the cinch. “If this is all part of the game, I’m not interested.”

  Ready for a run, Delilah sniffed the air the moment Jillian led her outside. When Jillian swung into the saddle, the mare danced and strained against the bit. Within moments they’d left the lights of the ranch yard behind.

  The ride would clear her head, she told herself. Anyone would be a bit crazed after a day like this one. Getting Baby back had eased the sting of betrayal she’d felt after learning Joe Carlson had stolen from her. Methodically stolen, she thought, while offering advice and sympathy. He’d certainly been clever, she mused, subtly, systematically turning her attention toward the Murdocks while he was slipping her own cattle through her own fences. Until she found a new herdsman, she’d have to add his duties to her own.

  It would do her good, she decided, keep her mind off things. Aaron. If he’d wanted to see her, he’d known where to find her. Apparently, she’d done them both a favor by pushing him away weeks before. If she hadn’t, they’d have found themselves in a very painful situation. As it was, they were each just going their own way—exactly as she’d known they would from the beginning. Perhaps she’d had a few moments of weakness, like the one that morning on the Double M, but they wouldn’t last. In the next few weeks she’d be too busy to worry about Aaron Murdock and some foolish dreams.

  Jillan told herself she hadn’t deliberately ridden to the pond, but had simply let Delilah go her own way. In any case, it was still a spot she’d choose for solitude, no matter what memories lingered there.

  The moon was full and white, the brush silvered with it. She told herself she wasn’t unhappy, just tired after a long day of traveling, dealing with the sheriff, answering questions. She couldn’t be unhappy when she finally had what was hers back. When the weariness passed, she’d celebrate. She could have wept, and hated herself.

  When she saw the moon reflected on the water, she slowed Delilah to an easy lope. There wasn’t a sound but the steady hoofbeats of her own mount. She heard the stallion even as her mare scented him. With her own heart pounding, Jillian controlled the now skittish Delilah and brought her to a halt. Aaron stepped out of the shadow of a cottonwood and said nothing at all.

  He’d known she’d come—sooner or later. He could’ve gone to her, or waited for her to come to him. Somehow he’d known they had to meet here on land that belonged to them both.

  It was better to face it all now and be done with it, Jillian told herself, then found her hands were wet with nerves as she dismounted. Nothing could’ve stiffened her spine more effectively. In thrumming silence she tethered her mare. When she turned, she found Aaron had moved behind her, as silently as the wildcat she’d once compared him to. She stood very straight, kept her tone very impassive.

  “So, you came back.”

  His eyes were lazy and amused as he scanned her face. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

  Her chin came up as he’d known it would. “I didn’t think about it at all.”

  “No?” He smiled then—it should have warned her. “Did you think about this?” He dragged her to him, one hand at her waist, one at the back of her head, and devoured the mouth he’d starved for. He expected her to struggle—perhaps he would’ve relished it just then—but she met the demands of his mouth with the strength and verve he remembered.

  When he tore his mouth from hers, she clung, burying her face in his shoulder. He still wanted her—the thought pounded inside her head. She hadn’t lost him, not yet. “Hold me,” she murmured. “Please, just for a minute.”

  How could she do this to him? Aaron wondered. How could she shift his mood from crazed to tender in the space of seconds? Maybe he’d never figure out quite how to handle her, but he didn’t intend to stop learning.

  When she felt her nerves come back, she drew away. “I want to thank you for what you did. The sheriff told me that you got the evidence from Jennsen, and—”

  “I don’t want to talk about the cattle, Jillian.”

  “No.” Linking her hands together, she turned away. No, it was time they put that aside and dealt with what was really important. What was vital. “I’ve thought about what happened—about what you said the last time we saw each other.” Where were all those speeches she’d planned? They’d all been so calm, so lucid. She twisted her fingers until they hurt, then separated them. “Aaron, I meant it when I said that I don’t expect to be told those things. Some women do.”

  “I wasn’t saying them to some women.”

  “It’s so easy to say,” she told him in a vibrating whisper. “So easy.”

  “Not for me.”

  She turned slowly, warily, as if she expected him to make a move she wasn’t prepared for. He looked so calm, she thought. And yet the way the moonlight hit his eyes . . . “It’s hard,” she murmured.

  “What is?”

  “Loving you.”

  He could have gone to her then, right then, and pulled her to him until there was no more talk, no more thought. But her chin was up and her eyes were swimming. “Maybe it’s supposed to be. I’m not offering you an easy road.”

  “No one’s ever loved me back the way I wanted.” Swallowing, she stepped away. “No one but Clay, and he never told me. He never had to.”

  “I’m not Clay, or your father. And there’s no one who’s ever going to love you the way I do.” He took a step toward her, and though she didn’t back up, he thought he could see every muscle brace. “What are you afraid of?”

  “I’m not afraid!”

  He came closer. “Like hell.”

  “That you’ll stop.” It wrenched out of her as she gripped her hands behind her back. Once started, the words rushed out quickly and ran together. “That you’ll decide you never really loved me anyway. And I’ll have let myself want and start depending and needing you. I’ve spent most of my life working on not depending on anyone, not for anything.”

  “I’m not anyone,” he said quietly.

  Her breath came shuddering out, “Since you’ve been gone I haven’t cared about anything except you coming back.”

  He ran his hands up her arms. “Now that I am?”

  “I couldn’t bear it if you didn’t stay. And though I think I could stand the hurt, I just can’t stand being afraid.” She put her hands to his chest when he started to draw her to him.

  “Jillian
, do you think you can tell me things I’ve been waiting to hear and have me keep my hands off you? Don’t you know there’s risk on both sides? Dependence on both sides?”

  “Maybe.” She made herself breathe evenly until she got it all out. “But people aren’t always looking for the same things.”

  “Such as?”

  This time she moistened her lips. “Are you going to marry me?” The surprise in his eyes made her muscles stiffen again.

  “You asking?”

  She dragged herself out of his hold, cursing herself for being a fool and him for laughing at her. “Go to hell,” she told him as she started for her horse.

  He caught her around the waist, lifting her off the ground as she kicked out. “Damn, you’ve got a short fuse,” he muttered and ended by pinning her to the ground. “I have a feeling I’m going to spend the best part of my life wrestling with you.” Showing an amazing amount of patience, he waited until she’d run out of curses and had subsided, panting. “I’d planned to put the question to you a bit differently,” he began. “As in, will you? But as I see it, that’s a waste of time.” As she stared up at him, he smiled. “God, you’re beautiful. Don’t argue,” he warned as she opened her mouth. “I’m going to tell you that whenever I please so you might as well start swallowing it now.”

  “You were laughing at me,” she began, but he cut her off.

  “At both of us.” Lowering his head, he kissed her, gently at first, then with building passion. “Now . . .” Cautiously he let her wrists go until he was certain she wasn’t going to take a swing at him. “I’ll give you a week to get things organized at your ranch.”

  “A week—”

  “Shut up,” he suggested. “A week, then we’re both taking the next week off to get married.”

  Jillian lay very still and soaked it in. It was pure joy. “It doesn’t take a week to get married.”