Bridled and Branded (8 page)

The woman stopped in front of Prancer’s stall. Gripping the iron bars, she peered into the ten-by-ten space and eyed Lynlee and then the horse.

“Somethin’ I can help you with?” Lynlee asked, spraying the horse fly repellant over Prancer’s sleek coat.

“Maybe,” the lady said. “I hope so, anyway.”

“You looking to buy a horse?” Lynlee asked, dodging Prancer when the mare turned her head and gave it a solid shot at biting Lynlee on the ass.

“No,” she said. “Not today, anyway.”

“Too bad,” Lynlee sighed. “I’d make you a deal on this horse and probably give away one or two stubborn ponies.”

The woman eyed her curiously. Lynlee couldn’t help but notice how she appeared a little too polished to be hanging out in the barn. She wore a large hat, along the same lines as those often spotted at the Derby, a fitted black skirt and red blouse.

The mysterious lady showed off enough cleavage to make any man look and her barely-concealed breasts bounced around like gelatin. She wore heels high enough to add a good three or four inches which wasn’t exactly brilliant given the mud and sawdust. But best Lynlee could judge by the woman’s attitude and all, she sure thought she looked pretty.

With painted lips and pearly-white teeth, the fancy lady made Lynlee very uncomfortable. She had pretty sage-colored eyes, until she narrowed them on Lynlee and her tone seemed quite condescending upon their introduction. “I’m Sarah.”

“Lynlee Lewis.”

“Nice to meet you,” Sarah said, but never offered her hand. “I’m looking for a friend of yours.”

Lynlee pursed her lips and gave the woman another good study before she said, “I have a lot of friends. Which one has your attention?”

Sarah laughed. “Which one would your money be on, sweetie?”

Blaine. Rhett. Take your pick.
Blaine.

“I’m kind of busy here,” Lynlee pointed out the obvious, securing Prancer’s stall and stomping toward the trunk where they stored all the brushes and other horse accessories.

“I see,” she said. “I’d offer to help, but I’m hardly dressed for the occasion, you understand.”

Lynlee faced her perceived opposition or maybe competition. She realized, without a second to spare, she faced off with a woman bound and determined to bring her some trouble. She’d apparently searched her out, and with the crowd at Carolina Showplace, that wasn’t an easy task.

“I don’t rightly recall asking for your help. See, I’ve been in the business of showing horses and ponies most of my life. With some help from my grooms, I make out just fine. What I’ve never been able to tolerate is a woman, or a man, bound and determined to get in my way. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She started to push by her, but the woman, this Sarah person, stopped her.

A white gloved hand landed on her forearm, and she said, “I need to see Blaine McCain. You tell him Sarah is here. Will ya, dear?”

“Sarah,” Lynlee drawled, “you tell him yourself.” She pointed toward her camper and quickly added, “In fact, why don’t you march on over there to
my
place. Go on in and have a sit-down talk with him. If I’m guessing about right, you’ll find him in my bed.”

After a few dignified ways each woman found to glare down their noses at one another, Sarah stormed off. Seconds later, Lynlee was seething. She watched at a safe distance while the woman walked over to the camper.

Sarah knocked on Lynlee’s trailer door and paced out her wait. Rhett greeted her and he didn’t act too happy to see her. After he looked both ways and acted rather suspicious over the whole ordeal, Lynlee put one and two together, something Rhett and Blaine had practically perfected, with one exception—Sarah Beth Sanders, the not-so-deceased wife of Scott Sanders.

“It has to be her,” she muttered, stomping back to the stall. She shot her horse a cold stare like the darn animal had something to do with Sarah’s arrival. Then, she glanced at her watch. She had forty-five minutes before the exhibitors were called, and if she wanted to make it to the entry gate, she needed to fetch her riding habit and change into her show attire as quickly as possible.

She eyed the camper, and as if she viewed the trailer as an enemy, she started for her home-away-from-home, taking one troubled step at a time. What if she walked in and caught Blaine in a compromising position with another woman? Did she have a right to get mad? Did she have a right to feel inferior to a woman who dressed like she stepped right out of Macy’s?

No, she didn’t. But who the hell said a woman in love needed permission to stake her claim?

Storming inside, she quickly noticed the barrel of a gun pointed at Blaine’s head. She almost missed the fact that instead of two men staring back at her, there were three seated on the sofa, including Scott Sanders, the same man who’d held her at plastic knifepoint just the day before.

“Apparently, this is something that runs in the family,” Blaine began, keeping an even tone.

Evidently, he believed Sarah had a good mind to use the weapon in her hand.

“And Lynlee?” Rhett began. “That gun is real, so you might want to watch yourself.”

“I guess you’re Sarah Beth Sanders,” Lynlee said.

Rhett scratched at the stubble on his face. “Seems she’s alive or just fresh out of the grave, if you believe in vampires. I have a strange feeling by the time she’s through with us, we might. Damn woman is out for blood.”

“Well, then,” Lynlee said quietly, “I’m glad to finally meet you. Your husband and I met yesterday—”

 
“You know Scott?” she wheeled around, aiming the gun her way now. “Don’t you move!” Sarah quickly whipped the weapon back in Blaine’s direction when he seized the opportunity and dashed forward.

“Take it easy,” Blaine gulped. “No one needs to get hurt here today.”

“Sit down,” Sarah Beth grated out. “Now!”

“Easy, Sarah Beth,” Scott said. “That woman hasn’t done one thing to us.”

She returned her focus to Lynlee. “I asked you a question.”

Sarah Beth apparently had more loose screws than her deranged husband. “Someone introduced us at the show,” Lynlee tried to pacify her.

Scott, Rhett, and Blaine pursed their lips. So much for providing the right reply.

“Really?” Sarah drawled. “Who?”

“Do I look like I know everyone around here?” Lynlee asked.

Sarah Beth narrowed her gaze. “You’re right. You are sort of plain.”

Lynlee glared straight ahead. She saw Blaine’s eyes flicker with anger as much as pain, and in that moment, she cherished him, but it was short-lived. The woman with the gun apparently didn’t drive to Carolina Showplace with the intention of leaving a few good men alive, especially since everyone believed she was, in fact, dead.

Lynlee started backing out of the living room, hoping to reach the door without a lot of effort once Sarah Beth’s focus returned to the men. “I wouldn’t go anywhere if I were you, Miss Lewis. I’d hate to get trigger happy, if you know what I mean.”

“Sure,” Lynlee said. “I understand. Tell you what. Why don’t I make us some coffee. We can all talk about this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Sarah Beth informed. “Is there, Scott?”

Scott looked down, and Rhett shot him a stone-cold glare.

“Scott?” Sarah Beth asked, tears drifting down her cheeks.

Scott shook his head.

“No wonder she cheated on you!” Lynlee shouted. “She’s asking for your forgiveness in her own weird way. After you came here yesterday, held me against my will, and then blessed out the two men you blamed for what you called
her demise
, you should be ashamed of yourself! You should be comforting her right now and…”

“And maybe you should zip it for a bit,” Blaine suggested.

“You held a woman against her will?” Sarah Beth asked, turning to face Scott. Only Scott had the gun aimed at his head now. Seemed fair enough all things considered.

“I
thought
you were dead. I wanted these two to pay for the pain they’d caused you.”

 
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I can tell you from experience, your woman was feeling no pain if she was in bed with these two.”

“Lynlee!” Blaine yelled. “Shut the hell up.”

“No,” Lynlee said. “Blaine, for once, I’m speaking my mind.”

“For once?” Blaine asked.

Ignoring him, she continued, “Look, it’s not every day that I pay a two-hundred-dollar entry fee for an event I’m now going to miss so two crazies can congregate in my little trailer. I live a simple life, something the two of you apparently can’t comprehend, seeing as you must enjoy the drama surrounding you.

“In any case, I haven’t the time or the patience to see how you resolve your not-so-private matters of the heart. Sarah Beth, I wouldn’t be too quick to judge. Yes, your husband held me against my will, but what is it that you’re doing now?”

“Getting even,” Sarah Beth replied.

“Okay,” Lynlee drawled. “So you’ve gotten even. Do you feel any better?”

“Not much,” she admitted.

“Naturally, you wouldn’t,” Lynlee said. “Truth is, the only person you’re trying to get even with is yourself. Whatever pain you caused in your marriage, you’re going to have to own it. Blaine and Rhett may have been the instruments used in tearing apart your relationship, but they weren’t responsible for the underlying mechanisms that tore you away from your husband.”

Lynlee took a deep breath. “It’s easy to point fingers and cast blame. In the end, sometimes the only thing you have to do is sit down and face the truth. You made a mistake. You have to own up to that, otherwise, you’ll spend your life making one crucial error after another.”

“Should I applaud now?” Blaine asked, smirking.

“You can save the smacking sounds for later dear,” Lynlee said, unsure if her speech made a difference since Sarah Beth still squeezed the gun tightly in her left hand.

“So what’s it going to be, Sarah Beth?”

She glanced down at the shag carpet. “I don’t want to be married to a man who doesn’t want children.”

“So you don’t want to be married. Get a divorce. You can walk away amicably.”

“You don’t understand,” she bit out.

“Maybe I don’t,” Lynlee agreed. “But I don’t have to understand.”

With a wicked smile and pure evil denting the dimples in her cheeks, Sarah adamantly disagreed with a shake of her head. “You may change your mind if you’re in bed with these two. See, the reason I’m here is to find out which one of them plans on supporting me and my unborn child. I’m pregnant.”

Chapter Eleven

“How could you be so stupid?” Lynlee screamed. Four hours had passed since the little standoff in her camper. Rhett had convinced Scott and Sarah Beth that if Sarah was indeed pregnant, then he would do the right thing by the child. Blaine never admitted anything.

“Lynlee, damn it, what don’t you understand? There is no way I could’ve gotten that woman pregnant.”

“Let me guess,” she drawled. “You wrapped it twice?”

“No,” he said, bowing his head. “But I did wear a condom.”

“News flash, Blaine. When it rains, a man hides under his raincoat. When there’s a flood, and we both know what I’m talking about, there aren’t any guarantees everyone will stay dry.”

“That’s the corniest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“I don’t care, and you don’t owe me an explanation.”

“You do care, and I want to explain.” Blaine clenched his fists. “Damn it, there’s more to this than I wanted to talk about straight out of the gate.”

“Then why don’t you start talking? I’d love to hear why you think Rhett could be a potential daddy, but you aren’t susceptible to the same damnation, and make no mistake, a life spent fathering a child
with that woman
is like stepping into the pits of hell.”

“I would agree with that,” he said. “And for the first time in my life, I’m grateful for the things I cannot have.”

Lynlee stopped her rant and stood completely still. Lynlee cleared her throat. “You expect me to believe you can’t have children?”

“It’s the truth.”

“Then if that’s so, why did you use protection with me?”

“You have to ask? Hell, I’ve been with a lot of women, Lynlee.”

“It sure didn’t bother you when your dick was down my throat!”

“God, Lynlee,” Blaine muttered.

They stood there glaring at one another until Blaine finally said, “I don’t want to fight with you. I told you the truth. You’re the one that has to decide whether or not you can live with it.”

Lynlee tried to keep the tears from falling. If she cried, she wasn’t sure if she’d shed tears of joy or pure sorrow.

Lynlee sat down all at once. She wanted him to say something, anything to steer the conversation in another direction. Was it a good time to tell him that she’d never really wanted children? Probably.

“I’m sorry,” she finally whispered.

“I’m not. Truth is, until I realized I wanted a future with you, I never wanted children. I’m not exactly the kind of man who can’t wait to settle down.”