Duncan's Bride (22 page)

Beyond that, Maddie didn't need money. With Robert Cannon for a stepbrother, she could have anything she wanted just by asking. Robert Cannon had money that made April's family look like two-bit pikers.

It all kept coming back to the same thing, the same question. Why had she paid the mortgage, knowing how dead set he was against it, if she hadn't been planning to file for divorce? The answer was always the same, and she had given it to him. She had never tried to hide it. She loved him.

The realization staggered him anew, and he had to stop to wipe the sweat from his face, even though the temperature was only in the thirties. Maddie loved him. She had tried to tell him when he'd been yelling all those insults at her, and he hadn't listened.

Savagely he jerked the wire tight and hammered in the staple to hold it. Crow had a bitter taste to it, but he was going to have to eat a lot of it if he wanted Maddie to come back to him. He'd gone off the deep end and acted as if she were just like April, even though he knew better. April had never enjoyed living in Montana, while Maddie had wallowed in it like a delighted child. This was the life she wanted.

She loved him enough to take the chance on paying off the mortgage, knowing how angry he would be but doing it anyway because it would save the ranch for him. She had put him before herself, and that was the true measure of love, but he'd been too much of a blind, stubborn ass to admit it.

His temper had gotten him into a hell of a mess, and he didn't have anyone to blame but himself. He had to stop letting April's greed blight his life; he had to stop seeing other people through April-embittered eyes. That was the worst thing she had done to him, not ruining him financially, but ruining the way he had seen other people. He'd even admitted it to himself the day he had met Maddie; if he had run across her before marrying April, he would have been after her with every means at his disposal, and he would have gotten her, too. He would have chased her across every state in the country if necessary, and put her in his bed before she could get away. As it was, he hadn't been able to resist her for long. Even if the schoolteacher—he couldn't even remember her name—had said yes, he would have found some way of getting out of it. Maddie had been the only one he'd wanted wearing his name from the minute he'd seen her.

Damn. If only foresight were as clear as hindsight, he could have saved himself a big helping of crow.

H
E WALKED INTO
the café and immediately every eye turned toward him. He was beginning to feel like a damn outcast, the way everyone stopped talking and stared at him whenever he showed his face in town. Floris had come out of the kitchen and was arguing with one of the customers, who had ordered something she thought was stupid, from what he could hear, but she stopped yammering and stared at him, too. Then she abruptly turned and went back into the kitchen, probably to get her spatula.

Madelyn didn't acknowledge him, but no more than a minute had passed before a cup of hot coffee was steaming in front of him. She looked so good it was all he could do to keep from grabbing her. Her hair was in a loose French braid down her back, she wore those loose, chic, pleated jeans and a pair of deck shoes, and an oversize khaki shirt with the shirttails knotted at her waist, the collar turned up and the sleeves rolled, an outfit that looked impossibly stylish even under the apron she wore. He took a closer look at the shirt and scowled. It was
his
shirt! Damn it, when she'd left him she'd taken some of his clothes!

No doubt about it. He had to get that woman back, if only for the sake of his wardrobe.

A few minutes later she put a slice of chocolate pie on the table, and he picked up his fork with a hidden
smile. They might be separated, but she was still trying to feed him. He'd always been a little startled by the way she had fussed over him and seen to his comfort, as if she had to protect him. Since he was a great deal bigger than she, it had always seemed incongruous to him. His own protective instincts worked overtime where she was concerned, too, so he supposed it evened out.

Finally he caught her eye and indicated the seat across from him with a jerk of his chin. Her eyebrows lifted at the arrogant summons, and she ignored him. He sighed. Well, what had he expected? He should have learned by now that Maddie didn't respond well to orders—unless she wanted to, for her own reasons.

There was evidently a rush hour in Crook now, at least judging by the number of customers who found it necessary to stop by the café. He wondered dourly if there was an alert system to signal everyone in the county when his truck was parked out front. It was over an hour before the place began to empty, but he waited patiently. The next time she came over with a refill of coffee he said, “Talk to me, Maddie. Please.”

Perhaps it was the “please” that got to her, because she gave him a startled look and sat down. Floris came out of the kitchen and surveyed Reese with her hands on her hips, as if wondering why he was still there. He winked at her, the first time he'd ever done anything that playful, and her face filled with outrage just before she whirled to go back to the kitchen.

Maddie laughed softly, having seen the byplay. “You're in her bad books now, listed under ‘Sorry Low-Down Husbands Who Play Around.'”

He grunted. “What was I listed under before, ‘Sorry Low-Down Husbands Who Don't Play Around'?”

“‘Yet,'” she added. “Floris doesn't have a high opinion of men.”

“I've noticed.” He looked her over closely, examining her face. “How do you feel today?”

“Fine. That's the first thing everyone asks me every day. Being pregnant is a fairly common occurrence, you know, but you'd think no other woman in this county had ever had a baby.”

“No one's ever had
my
baby before, so I'm entitled to be interested.” He reached across the table and took her hand, gently folding her fingers over his. She was still wearing her wedding ring. For that matter, he was still wearing his. It was the only jewelry he'd ever worn in his life, but he'd liked the looks of that thin gold band on his hand almost as much as he had liked the way his ring looked on Maddie. He played with the ring, twisting it on her finger, reminding her of its presence. “Come home with me, Maddie.”

Same tune, same lyrics. She smiled sadly as she repeated her line. “Give me one good reason why I should.”

“Because you love me.” He said it gently, his fingers tightening on hers. That was the most powerful argument he could think of, the one she couldn't deny.

“I've always loved you. That isn't new. I loved you when I packed my clothes and walked out the door. If it wasn't reason enough to stay, why should it be reason enough to go back?”

Her gray, gray eyes were calm as she looked at him. His chest tightened as he realized it wasn't going to work. She wasn't going to come back to him no matter what argument he used. He'd been on a roller coaster of hope since the day he had seen the station wagon parked out front, but suddenly he was plunging down
a deep drop that didn't have an end. Dear God, had he ruined the best thing that had ever happened to him because he hadn't been able to accept it?

There was a thick knot in his throat; he had to swallow before he could speak again. “Do you…do you mind if I check up on you every day or so? Just to make sure you're feeling okay. And I'd like to go with you when you have a doctor's appointment, if you don't mind.”

Now Maddie had to swallow at her sudden impulse to cry. She had never seen Reese diffident before, and she didn't like it. He was bold and arrogant and quick-tempered, and that was just the way she wanted him, as long as he realized a few important facts about their marriage. “This is your baby, too, Reese. I'd never try to cut you out.”

He sighed, still playing with her fingers. “I was wrong, sweetheart. I have a phobia about the ranch after what April did to me—I know, you're not April, and I shouldn't take it out on you for what she did eight years ago. You told me, but I didn't listen. So tell me now what I can do to make it up to you.”

“Oh, Reese, it isn't a matter of making anything up to me,” she cried softly. “I don't have a scorecard with points on it, and after you tally up so many I'll move back to the ranch. It's about us, our relationship, and whether we have any future together.”

“Then tell me what you're still worried about. Baby, I can't fix it if I don't know what it is.”

“If you don't know what it is, then nothing
can
fix it.”

“Are we down to riddles now? I'm not any good at mind reading,” he warned. “Whatever you want, just
say it right out. I can deal with reality, but guessing games aren't my strong suit.”

“I'm not jerking you around. I'm not happy with this situation, either, but I'm not going back until I know for certain we have a future. That's the way it is, and I won't change my mind.”

Slowly he stood up and pulled some bills out of his pocket. Maddie held up her hand dismissively. “Never mind, this one's on me. I get good tips,” she said with a crooked smile.

He looked down at her with a surge of hunger that almost took him apart, and he didn't try to resist it. He leaned down and covered her mouth with his, tilting her head back so he could slant his lips more firmly over hers, his tongue sliding between her automatically parted lips. They had made love too often, their senses were too attuned to each other, for it to be anything but overwhelmingly right. She made one of her soft little sounds, and her tongue played with his, her mouth responding. If they had been alone the kiss would have ended in lovemaking; it was that simple, that powerful. No other woman in his life had ever gotten to him the way Maddie did.

The café was totally silent as the few customers still there watched with bated breath. The situation between Reese Duncan and his spirited wife was the best entertainment the county had seen in years.

“Harrummph!”

Reese lifted his head, his lips still shiny from the kiss. The loud interruption had come from Floris, who had left the sanctuary of the kitchen to protect her waitress. At least that was what Reese thought, since she had bypassed the spatula in favor of a butcher knife.

“I don't hold with none of that carrying-on in my place,” she said, scowling at him.

He straightened and said softly but very clearly, “Floris, what you need is a good man to give you some loving and cure that sour disposition.”

The smile she gave him was truly evil in intent. She gestured with the butcher knife. “The last fool that tried drew back a nub.”

It always happened. Some people just didn't know when to keep out of something. The cowboy who had gotten in the argument with her the first time Reese had brought Maddie in just had to stick his oar in now. “Yeah, when was that, Floris?” he asked. “Before or after the Civil War?”

She turned on him like a she-bear on fresh meat. “Hell, boy, it was your daddy, and you're the best he could do with what he had left!”

I
T WAS THE
end of April. Spring was coming on fast, but Reese couldn't take the pleasure in the rebirth of the land that he usually did. He rattled around in the house, more acutely aware of its emptiness now than he had ever been before. He was busy, but he wasn't content. Maddie still wasn't home.

She had given him financial security with her legacy from her grandmother. Without the remaining payments of the huge mortgage hanging over him, he could use the money from the sale of last year's beef to expand, just as he had originally planned. For that matter, he could take out another loan with the ranch as collateral and start large-scale ranching again, with enough cowhands to help him do it right. Because of Maddie, he could now put the ranch back on a par with what it used to be, even with the reduced acreage. She had
never seen it as it had been, probably couldn't imagine the bustle and life in a large, profitable cattle ranch.

He needed to make some sort of decision and make it soon. If he were going to expand, he needed to get working on it right now.

But his heart wasn't in it. As much as he had always loved ranching, as deeply as his soul was planted in this majestically beautiful range, he didn't have the enthusiasm for it that he'd always had before. Without Maddie, he didn't much care.

But she was right; it was their baby's heritage. For that reason he had to take care of it to the best of his ability.

Life was always a fluid series of options. The circumstances and options might change from day to day, but there was always a set of choices to be made, and now he had to make a very important one.

If he expanded on his own it would take all his capital and leave him without anything in reserve if another killing blizzard nearly wiped him out. If he went to the bank for another loan, using the ranch as collateral, he would be putting himself back in the same position Maddie had just gotten him out of. He had no doubt he could make it, given that he would be able to reinvest all of the money in the ranch instead of paying it out to a grasping ex-wife, but he'd had enough of bank loans.

That left an investor. Robert Cannon was brilliant; he'd make one hell of a partner. And Reese did have a very clear business mind, so he could see all the advantages of a partnership. Not only would it broaden his financial base, he would be able to diversify, so the survival of the ranch wouldn't come down to a matter of how severe the winter was. The land was his own legacy to his child.

He picked up the telephone and punched the numbers on the card Robert had given him at Christmas.

When he put the receiver down half an hour later, it was all over except the paperwork. He and Robert dealt very well together, two astute men who were able to hammer out a satisfactory deal with a minimum of words. He felt strange, a little light-headed, and it took him a while to realize what had happened. He had voluntarily put his trust in someone else, surrendering his totalitarian control of the ranch; moreover, his new partner was a member of his wife's family, something he never could have imagined a year before. It was as if he had finally pulled free of the morass of hatred and resentment that had been dragging on him for years. April, finally, was in the past. He had made a mistake in his first choice of a wife; smart people learned from their mistakes and went on with their lives. He had learned, all right, but he hadn't gotten on with living until Maddie had taught him how. Even then he had clung to his bitter preconceptions until he had ruined his marriage.

God, he'd crawl on his hands and knees if it would convince her to come back.

As the days passed he slowly became desperate enough to do just that, but before the need inside him became uncontrollable, he received a phone call that knocked the wind out of him. The call was from April's sister, Erica. April was dead, and he was the main beneficiary in her will; would he please come?

Erica met him at JFK. She was a tall, lean, reserved woman, only two years older than April, but she had always seemed more like an aunt than a sister. Already there was a startling streak of gray in the dark hair waving back from her forehead, one she made no at
tempt to hide. She held out her hand to him in a cool, distant manner. “Thank you for coming, Reese. Given the circumstances, it's more than I expected and certainly more than we deserve.”

He shrugged as he shook her hand. “A year ago I would have agreed with you.”

“What's happened in the past year?” Her gaze was direct.

“I remarried. I got back on my feet financially.”

Her eyes darkened. She had gray eyes, too, he noticed, though not that soft, slumberous dove gray of Maddie's eyes. “I'm sorry about what happened in the divorce. April was, too, after it was over, but there didn't seem to be any way to make amends. And I'm glad you remarried. I hope you're very happy with your wife.”

He would be, he thought, if he could only get her to live with him, but he didn't say that to Erica. “Thank you. We're expecting a baby around the end of October.”

“Congratulations.” Her severe face lightened for a moment, and she actually smiled, but when the smile faded he saw the tiredness of her soul. She was grieving for her sister, and it couldn't have been easy for her to call him.