Heart of Winter (16 page)

“Through choice?” she asked gently. “Or just because you were unsure of being accepted with your battle scars?”

“Honey, you believe in cutting to the bone, don't you?” he asked with a half-angry laugh.

“You aren't the kind of man to be spoon-fed things, are you?” she returned gently.

“No.” He drew up his left leg and studied her quietly. “Why did you think I'd order you off the place if I knew your real name?”

“You'd already said you hated rich people, and Gerald said you had no use whatsoever for jet-setters. I guessed that if you knew I was in that class, it would make you hate me,” she said simply.

“You might have given me the benefit of the doubt.”

She managed a smile. “I didn't have enough self-confidence for that. As it was, you were only tolerating me.”

“I thought you and Gerald had something going,” he said. He studied the coverlet. “I love Gerald. I couldn't take away something he wanted as badly as he seemed to want you.”

“And all along, he was in love with Sadie. I've never had ulterior motives,” she added, wanting to make him understand. “I don't want a rich man, Winthrop. I have a job I enjoy, I can make my own way in life. I was never looking for a…a meal ticket.”

“I didn't know that. All I had left were my instincts, and they'd already let me down once. I haven't trusted a woman since this happened.” He touched his knee.

“Were you ever in love before her?” she asked hesitantly, because it was suddenly important that she know that.

He met her searching gaze. “Love is an illusion. I don't believe in it. I never did. I wanted Deanne until she was an obsession with me. I got drunk on her. When she walked out, I thought I was going to bleed to death, and for two years I felt like a zombie. Is that love? I don't know. It's the most intense thing I'd ever felt, so maybe it was. But I'm over her now and I have no inclination whatsoever to go through it again.”

He'd probably never spoken so candidly about his feelings before, and she was flattered that he'd trusted her even that far. She sat down slowly on the bed beside him, her soft weight moving the mattress.

“Love shouldn't be all physical,” she told him, her voice as gentle as the fingertips that went hesitantly to his firm mouth and touched it. “It should be a sharing between two people. A bonding of thoughts and hopes and dreams. A linking of intangible things. Companionship. Friendship. Openness and honesty.”

“You lied to me,” he said curtly. His fingers caught her wrist.

“What do you care?” she asked. “You don't believe in love, and you don't really want it anyway. You're safe from ever being hurt again. Nobody can reach you. If you stay up here another ten years, you'll be a walking dead man!”

“At your age, what do you know about love?” he demanded. “You said you loved me, but we both know all you feel is pity. I've been hurt and I'm scarred, so you see me as a charity case!”

Her eyebrows went up. “You?”

The one word was more expressive than any argument she could have made. He glared at her and let go of her wrist. “You feel sorry for me,” he continued doggedly.

“I feel sorry for anybody who gets close to you all right,” she mumbled. “You aren't my idea of the perfect lover.”

“How would you know, when you've never had one?”

“You said my innocence was all an act—”

“Oh, for God's sake, I was mad as hell, I'd have said anything! I didn't mean it. I know lack of experience when it stares me in the face. You blushed that night in the kitchen when I looked at you.”

“I wish you'd stop bringing that up. I was…overwrought,” she concluded helplessly.

“You got too damned close,” he said suddenly, every last bit of caution gone. His eyes glittered dangerously. “You got under my skin. What did you expect me to do—lie back and enjoy it? I won't be owned by some little city girl with a rich daddy!”

“Now just hold on one minute,” she said slowly. “What do you mean ‘with a rich daddy'?”

“Your father mentioned that if I wanted to marry you, he'd give us a racehorse for a wedding present, and an interest in the farm to boot.”

She was horrified. Absolutely horrified. In his usual bulldozing way, her father was trying to help. This scheme sounded like his idea of building a fire under the man he thought Nicky wanted.

Somehow she got to her feet, her heart slamming in her throat. “How nice of him,” she said huskily.

“He needs looking after,” he replied. “He shouldn't be let out alone. And you're not much better. Neither of you do things the right way.”

“Which is?” she taunted.

“Straightforward. Don't you know how to get what you want in life?”

“Your way would probably be to reach out and grab it,” she muttered.

“You're catching on, sugarplum.”

Before she could react, he had her by the wrist again. He levered her down onto the bed, on her back, and loomed over her with a purely arrogant look in his dark eyes.

“I don't want to be another one of your conquests,” she told him, struggling.

“Sure you do. If you keep thrashing around like that, you're going to dislodge my sheet and the mystery of life will be over!”

She stopped immediately, glaring at him with wide green eyes as she tried to catch her breath. Smiling down at her, all unshaven and with his hair down over his forehead, he looked sensuous and a little dangerous.

“You don't want commitment, remember?” she reminded him bitterly.

“I don't have to propose marriage to kiss you,” he returned, bending.

“I have a cold—I'm contagious!” she squeaked.

“I have a sore leg, and that's not catching. But desire is,” he whispered against her lips. “Shall I show you how easy it is to catch?”

“It isn't fair,” she wailed.

“Probably not. But it's sweet, all the same.” He nuzzled her face with his, in soft, gentle caresses that wore her down all too easily. “You smell of gardenias, Nicky. You smell sweet all over. Here,” he breathed, taking her hand in his to press it against his hard, warm chest. “Touch me.”

Her hand faltered shyly, but he guided it over the hard muscles, letting her feel the silky hair that covered him, the ripple of muscle under rough skin. “You feel furry,” she whispered.

“And you feel like satin.” He traced her cheek with his fingers as he kissed her very lightly, and his hand slowly lowered to the buttons of her bodice under the robe.

“No,” she protested.

“Go ahead, fight for your honor,” he chided. “And I'll wear you down anyway. It's only going to be a token resistance. You want to be touched as much as I want to touch you. So just give in, Nicky, and enjoy it.”

“You conceited ape!”

“Enjoy it,” he whispered. His fingers moved to the edge of her breast, tracing around it with maddening expertise, making her moan and stiffen suddenly in an explosion of unexpected pleasure.

“Winthrop!” she gasped.

“It isn't new,” he whispered, drawing his mouth slowly over hers. “We did this in the kitchen that night…you let me touch you then, too. You let me kiss you.”

“You shouldn't,” she whispered shakily.

“You belong to me,” he said simply as he began to unfasten buttons. “I have every right in the world.”

“You don't,” she tried to protest, but his hand was inside the gown now, his lean, cool fingers against virgin flesh, teasing, tracing, until she arched up and trembled.

“Mine,” he breathed against her mouth. Her movements were exciting him, her little cries caught in his lips, making him hungry. “All of you. Here and here…sweet young body, ripe for my hands. I could make a meal of you, Nicky.”

He had her gown around her waist, and she couldn't even protest. Her eyes closed, tears falling down her cheeks while he looked, touched, delicately tasted her pretty, firm breasts. She let him, and his whirling mind registered her complete abandonment to his ardor. She wasn't resisting him anymore—verbally or physically. He could do anything now and she'd let him.

And that realization was what slowed him down. He lifted his head quietly, looking at the helpless reaction of her body to his lovemaking. She was beautiful, he thought, and he stared at her with something akin to reverence in his dark, tender gaze.

His fingers traced around an erect nipple, gently loving. “I've never seen anything so perfect, Nicky,” he whispered. “It's like touching satin.”

Her eyes opened. She was embarrassed, and her face felt hot as she met his gaze. “I'm afraid,” she whispered.

“There's no reason to be frightened. I'm not going to ravish you.” He drew the backs of his fingers against her, loving the way she tensed with pleasure. “But I could, couldn't I? You want me pretty badly right now.”

“Obsessively,” she confessed. Her voice shook a little. “Do you enjoy humiliating me?”

“Is that what you think I'm doing? Think again.” He lifted his hand, and she saw its faint tremble. “That isn't faked, Nicky,” he added solemnly. “I go just as high as you do when we make love. It's mutual, this chemistry. It has been from the very beginning.”

“I won't have an affair with you,” she said quietly.

“I wouldn't let you,” he returned. He nuzzled her nose with his. “On the other hand, I don't want marriage.”

“I'll have to leave,” she whispered, feeling her heart break.

“Inevitably,” he agreed. He looked down at her as his fingers drew tenderly over her bare breasts and she trembled. “It knocks the very breath out of me to touch you this way,” he breathed.

“You aren't the only one,” she said shakily.

He bent and put his mouth gently on the soft curve, and then he drew back, while it was still just a whisper of sensation. “You'd better sit up and pull up your gown, honey. Someone's coming up the steps very loudly.”

His words registered, but she felt as if she was caught in a dream. In the end, he helped her up, buttoned her gown and belted her robe with exaggerated indulgence. He'd only just finished when Mary ambled into the room with two mugs of steaming black coffee.

“Still here?” She clicked her tongue at Nicky. “You should be in bed. You will never mend this way.”

“We were talking,” Winthrop said. “Don't run her off just yet. I'm not through.”

“Yes, you are,” Mary said with unexpected stubbornness. “Must get her well, first, and you back on that leg. Then you can talk. Up!”

Nicky managed a rueful smile at Winthrop, feeling disappointed and a little shy. His expression, on the other hand, gave nothing away. He didn't protest, so she went with Mary, too subdued to even notice the twinkle in the older woman's eyes.

But Nicky didn't go back to Winthrop's room again, and he didn't ask for her. It was a kind of world-weary truce, but without any fraternizing. She didn't even see him, but Mary said that he was almost on his feet again. That was good news.

Meanwhile, Mike brought Sadie and Mrs. Todd down the mountain for the duration, so at least Nicky had someone to talk to. That is, she had Mrs. Todd to visit with, not Sadie, who was taking a delicious pleasure in nursing her Gerald back to health.

The little group got along very well. That was unexpected and enlightening, because Nicky had thought they wouldn't fare that well. Even Carol found things to talk to Mrs. Todd about. And Dominic White discovered that his lady love had a compassionate side to counterbalance her mercenary tendencies. He didn't seem to want to cut at Nicky anymore, although he did keep mentioning fairs and cotton candy….

Nicky was back taking dictation when Gerald felt up to it, in between wondering why Winthrop hadn't come near her and how she was going to bear to leave him when she and Gerald had to go home to Chicago. Even living in the same house separated from Winthrop was agony. How was it going to feel when she was hundreds of miles away, separated for life?

I
t was Saturday, and the hunters were packing to go home. A chinook had blown in Friday to take away the snow, unlocking the grip the storm had on the ranch, leaving the roads passable if slushy.

“Well, it's just been great,” Carol sighed as she left. “I can't think when I've enjoyed anything as much. Especially your movies,” she added, smiling demurely at Winthrop in the hall.

“You'll have to get Dominic to bring you again,” he returned with a smile.

“I might be persuaded,” Dominic said. He put an arm around Carol. “This one might be worth keeping.”

“Well, she's certainly pretty enough,” Nicky volunteered. “And I like her, if that carries any weight.”

Carol's eyes brightened. Impulsively, she hugged Nicky. “We won't tell anyone that I'm only five years older than you are. We'll just let people gape when you call me Mom, okay?” she laughed.

“Okay,” Nicky said gently. She winked at the redhead.

“By the way,” Dominic hesitated, luggage in hand, “I, uh, put my foot in it again, Nicky.”

She knew what he was going to say, about trying to buy Winthrop. He was a rascal, but he was still her father. She liked him sometimes, warts and all.

She hugged him briefly. “I've fouled things up all by myself, thanks. You just added your two cents' worth. I like you anyway.”

Dominic looked uncomfortably emotional for a minute before he pulled himself together. “Come see an old man once in a while,” he managed finally.

“I don't know any old men, but I guess I could come see you. If I get to help Eddie with the horses,” she added. “It's been a while since I've ridden.”

“We can remedy that. Don't wait too long. See you, Nicky.”

“See you, Dad.”

They went out, followed by the Harris brothers who were mumbling their own thanks and goodbyes. Nicky found herself alone with Winthrop, who towered over her in jeans and that huge sheepskin jacket he liked to wear with his creamy Stetson.

“You seem to have arrived at a truce with your father,” he mused.

“I misunderstood a lot of things. Grief plays havoc with the brain,” she said quietly. “I loved my mother very much.”

“So did he, unless I miss my guess.” He touched her short hair, the simple gesture sending thrills down her spine. “Was she like you, to look at?”

“Oh, no. She was beautiful,” she recalled gently. “Long black hair and pale blue eyes—Irish. She even had the lilting speech. She was a lady, in every sense of the word. I adored her.”

“And what does that make you—the ugly duckling?” he chided. He tilted her chin up, searching her suddenly flushed face. “Nice eyes. Big and soft. Pretty little mouth. High cheekbones. Soft skin. You'll do, sugarplum, even without long hair. But let it grow anyway. I like long hair.”

He turned her loose then and started out the door, still limping a little.

“Your knee…is it better?” she asked hesitantly.

He half turned toward her, his dark eyes alive and quiet. “It's no worse, at least. Why? Were you thinking of offering me a massage?”

“I don't go around playing with men's legs.”

“Oh, you're one of those kind of women, are you?” he taunted. “Marriage or nothing?”

“I don't want to marry you. I'm sorry if that breaks your heart.”

He smiled slowly, the sight of it almost knocking the breath out of her. Heavens, he was handsome! Bigger than the whole outdoors, sexy, sensuous…

“Tease,” he accused.

“You're the one making references to playing with men's legs. Which I don't do.”

He grinned at her high color. “I know a lot of things you didn't do until I came along,” he mused, and his eyes went straight to her yellow sweater.

“Aren't your guests going to miss the plane?” she asked in a high-pitched parody of her normal voice.

“That's their problem, not mine.”

“You're driving them, aren't you?”

The roar of the Jeep interrupted her.

“No,” he answered as it sped away. “Mike's driving them. Gerald wants you in the office, by the way. He's got a hundred letters to get out yesterday.”

“Thanks a lot,” she muttered darkly.

“Better toe the line, honey, or you could get fired. Since you're throwing away money hand over fist lately, you do need the work now, don't you?” he asked, playfully looking down his arrogant nose at her.

It had only just occurred to her that he was teasing. It was new, like that look on his dark face, that twinkle in his eyes. Her heart skipped a few beats and she turned her head, a little unsure of this new Winthrop.

“Yes, I guess I do,” she admitted. But the words didn't match what her soft, searching eyes were telling him. Not at all.

He tilted her chin up with a lean, strong hand and looked down at her. “I'm going out to check on my purebred herd,” he murmured. “I'd take you with me, but you're a distraction, Kentucky girl.”

Her pulse jumped again. “I thought…you said…you didn't want me around,” she managed breathlessly.

“Did I say that?” he asked, lifting his eyebrows. “My goodness, it must have been the painkillers.”

“Listen here, Winthrop—”

“Say it like that again,” he whispered at her lips, taunting them from a fraction of an inch away, so close that she could almost taste him.

“What?”

“Whisper my name like that again,” he repeated, and his nose brushed lazily against the tip of hers.

“Win…Winthrop,” she obliged.

“Mmm,” he murmured. His lips nuzzled hers, tempting them, urging her closer to him in the dim light of the hall. “Come up here….”

He actually lifted her off the floor with two steely hands at her waist. “That's better,” he whispered. “Now open that pretty mouth and kiss me properly.”

He had the most incredible way of getting to her. She was lost and witless, drugged on his nearness. She gave him her mouth, parted her lips, and moaned when he deepened the kiss hungrily and his arms swallowed her up against him.

Time got lost somewhere in the middle of that long, sweet kiss. A dog barked, and pans banged in the kitchen. A door opened and closed. Winthrop finally lifted his head, his breath coming hard and quick on her faintly bruised lips.

“Do you like it that way?” he whispered roughly. “Or do you want me to be gentle with you?”

She buried her face under his chin, trembling with reaction. “I like it…any way at all, with you,” she whispered, clinging to him.

“Same here.” He let her slide down his powerful body to the floor, savoring the feel of her against him. Her eyes were wide and soft and drowsy, and he couldn't help bending to brush her mouth once more with his. “Don't overdo it. You're not quite fit yet.”

“Look who's talking.”

“And no sass.” He tapped her on the cheek. “See you.”

He was gone, then, and she watched him until he was out of sight.

In between long talks with Sadie, Gerald managed to give a little dictation. Mrs. Todd had decided at long last to go and visit her sister in Florida, and it didn't really come as a surprise when Gerald announced a little hesitantly that he'd asked Sadie to marry him.

“It's about time,” Nicky said, beaming. “Congratulations!”

“I can hardly believe it after all this time,” Sadie sighed, leaning her head against Gerald's shoulder. “But I've never been happier.”

“Neither have I. And I'm sure your mother's going to love Florida. The climate will be good for her. We can visit her every other week if you like.”

“Well, maybe once a month anyway,” Sadie compromised, her eyes bright with love and happiness.

Nicky had to look away. There wouldn't be any such happiness for her. She'd go back to Chicago and take up her job, and try to forget Winthrop. That wasn't much of a future. She wondered how she was going to manage without him. He might enjoy teasing her and kissing her, but he'd said too often that marriage wasn't for him.

“You look glum, Nicky. What's wrong?” Gerald asked.

She forced herself to smile. “Nothing at all. I'll get my pad and take down some of that correspondence you're so anxious to get rid of.”

“Good girl.” He smiled down at Sadie. “I think life is going to be a lot easier to cope with from now on.”

For him, at least, Nicky agreed. Not for her.

She couldn't quite handle sitting at the supper table without the buffer of guests to protect her from Winthrop's dark, searching gaze. So she offered to have hers upstairs with Mrs. Todd. Mary gave her a hard look, but she fixed two trays and helped Nicky carry them upstairs.

“It is not like you to run away,” Mary said stoically at the door to the guest room Sadie and Mrs. Todd were sharing.

“I'm very good at it, actually,” Nicky replied. “Especially when I'm outgunned.”

“The biggest fish are the hardest to land.”

Nicky shrugged. “Sometimes they're the boniest, too.”

Mary grinned. “Good bones, though.” She opened the door. “Nicky is having supper with you,” she told Mrs. Todd. “Thought you might enjoy some company.”

“Why, Nicky, how thoughtful,” Mrs. Todd said with a smile. “I'll enjoy that.”

“Mary even fixed you a pudding,” Nicky said, nodding toward the creamy vanilla treat.

“My favorite. How kind, Mary.”

“No trouble,” the older woman said. “I like them, too. Hearty appetite.”

Mary left them, and Nicky arranged Mrs. Todd's tray and silverware before she sat down to eat her own food. It tasted like cardboard, but she forced herself not to pick at it. She'd have to get used to not seeing Winthrop across the table from her. Now was a good time to start.

“My sister is looking forward to having me stay with her,” Mrs. Todd said. “She's been alone for five years now, since her husband died. She lives in one of those retirement communities, and she says there are lots of things to see and do. Best of all,” she sighed, “the weather is warm and sunny. This chill goes right through me. I haven't been comfortable with the cold weather, but I didn't have the heart to tell Sadie. She was so happy, especially when Gerald came here on his holiday.”

“He really came to see Sadie, I think,” Nicky laughed. “And I'm glad it all worked out so nicely.”

“So am I. Sadie will take care of him, and he of her.” Mrs. Todd's gaze searched Nicky's face curiously. “Why are you hiding up here?”

Nicky jumped. “Hiding?”

“Hiding. You can't tell me it's my company you want. Are you and Winthrop trading blows again?”

Nicky shifted restlessly, crossing her jean-clad legs. “We just agree to disagree, that's all.”

“He's a stubborn man. You'll have to be patient if you want him.”

“I don't want him!”

“Don't be silly, of course you do,” Mrs. Todd said nonchalantly. She finished the last of her pudding. “When it comes time, he won't let you leave. Mark my words, he knows a good thing when he sees it.”

“Think so?” Nicky wanted to believe the old woman's words, but she knew Winthrop too well. He didn't want a long-term relationship. In fact, he'd probably be happy to wave her goodbye. The thought depressed her even more.

The last thing she expected was to find Winthrop at the door when it opened suddenly. She'd thought it was Mary and hadn't looked up until she heard his voice.

“There you are,” he said pleasantly. “I wondered where you'd gotten to. How're you doing, Mrs. Todd?”

“Very well, Winthrop, thanks to you,” the older woman beamed. “It's been like old times visiting here.”

“I'm glad you're enjoying it. I thought I'd walk Nicky down to the barn and let her look at my colt. She helped deliver him, you know.”

“I didn't! Nicky, that's quite a feat for a city girl.”

“But she isn't,” Winthrop said proudly, watching her. “She's a country girl. Kentucky-born and reared. Her people were horse fanciers.”

“How interesting.”

“How is the colt?” Nicky asked, keeping her voice steady when her heart was racing wildly in her chest.

“Growing like a weed. Come on and I'll show you. Good night, Mrs. Todd. Mary will be up soon to check on you.”

“Thank you, Winthrop. Good night, Nicky, and thanks for keeping me company.”

“It was my pleasure,” Nicky assured her, bending to kiss the wrinkled cheek. “Night.”

She followed Winthrop out the door with faint hesitation. He seemed friendly enough, but she sensed something beneath the outward calm. Something disturbing. Exciting.