Heart of Winter (6 page)

“I don't know. I needed to.” She shifted, burying her face against his broad shoulder. “You disturb me,” she whispered shakily. “It frightens me.”

“It shouldn't.” He held her, rocked her. His mouth touched her forehead in a kiss as gentle as the arms that held her. “I won't hurt you again.”

She nuzzled her face against him. “It's very exciting, being kissed like that,” she whispered shyly.

He smiled. “Is it?” He tilted her chin up and searched her eyes. “Then let's do it again,” he whispered into her open mouth.

It was wilder this time, hotter, more unbearably sweet. She gave him her mouth and melted into the hard contours of his body with a soft moan. It wasn't until she felt the tautening, felt the sudden urgency in the mouth devouring hers, that she realized things were getting out of control.

She put her hands against his wildly thudding chest and pulled her lips away from his. “No,” she said shakily.

He bit at her lower lip, his head spinning. “No?”

“You're a man…and experienced,” she whispered. “I've never…and I can't. I'm sorry.”

He was breathing roughly, but he didn't seem to be angry. He brushed his mouth over her eyes, closing her eyelids. “Do you want to?” he whispered, smiling.

“What a ridiculous question. I expect you know the answer,” she said dazedly.

“I suppose I do, at that.” He sighed, wrapping her up against him. “Hold tight. They say it passes, eventually. I can't vouch for it, of course. I'm not in the habit of drawing back at this point.”

“Oh, I'm sorry,” she moaned.

“I won't die.” He nuzzled his cheek against hers, rocking her. His arms had a faint tremor, but his breathing was calmer now and his heartbeat had stopped shaking them both. “What a potent little package you are. I didn't plan this. I meant to…hell, I don't know what I meant to do. Scare you, maybe.”

“You did.”

He laughed. “Like hell I did, you were with me every step of the way. I could have laid you down in the grass and—”

“Hush!”

He drew back then and looked down at her, frowning, his eyes wary and searching. She was flushed, and her eyes had an unnatural brightness, as if she were holding back tears.

“What are you so afraid of?” he asked quietly, touching her eyelid gently to release a long, silver tear. “It was passionate, but still just a kiss. I didn't even try to touch you in any way that would have offended you.”

“It isn't fear,” she whispered. She lowered her eyes. How could she explain to him the intensity of her feelings, the aching tenderness she was beginning to feel for him?

“Are you afraid of intimacy?” he asked very quietly.

She lowered her eyes to his chest and closed them. “I'm afraid of getting involved. Just as afraid as you are,” she added. And it was true. She'd given her heart to Chase—she'd almost given her body to him. And he'd betrayed her trust. How could she risk it again?

“Why?”

She looked up at him. “Why are you?” she countered, searching his quiet eyes.

He bent and touched her forehead with lips that were breathlessly gentle. “I loved her,” he whispered, “in my way. It was the first time I'd ever felt more than a physical hunger for a woman. When she walked away from me, I wanted to die. I swore I'd get over it, but I don't know that I really have. The scars go deep.”

She touched his face gently, running her fingers slowly along his hard cheek. Amazing, how exquisite it was to be near him.

“I got thrown over by my fiancé,” she confessed. “He decided he wanted a rich girl, and I wasn't…” She almost added “anymore” but she caught the word in time.

He searched her soft green eyes. “You didn't sleep with him,” he said, gazing at her intently.

“That's hard to explain.” She stared at his top shirt button. It was undone, and thick dark hair peeked out against his tanned skin. “I wanted the first time to mean something. What hurts the most is that I never felt that way about him. I thought I loved him, but I never thought about sleeping with him.”

That was the truth. Seeing how fast living had ruled her parents' lives had soured her on that part of life. Intimacy had become to them as careless as handshakes, and Nicole had determined that it would be treated more reverently in her own life. Perhaps, in retrospect, that was one of the reasons Chase had left her. He'd pushed her toward intimacy more and more after their engagement, but she'd resisted stubbornly. And now, standing close in Winthrop's arms, she was savagely glad she'd resisted.

There was more to it than that, he knew, but she wasn't volunteering any more information. He studied her quietly, thinking how much like him she was. He ran his finger down her cheek. Secretive, too, but he'd get more of an explanation eventually. It was insane to be so pleased that she was still innocent. It excited him, as sophisticated women never had.

“I could eat a moose,” he said conversationally. “Why don't we rush back to the house and raid the freezer? Can you cook, in case Mary decides to try out for the Rockettes one day?”

She laughed at him. His humor had surprised her. Was this the real man? Had that cold veneer finally melted away? “Yes, of course I can cook. Why would Mary want to try out for the Rockettes?”

He shrugged. “She threatens it once or twice a winter. She saw them on television once and was sure she was just the right height, even though her legs were a bit large. I haven't taken her seriously in past years, but as I get older, my stomach worries.”

“Don't you worry, Mr. Christopher, I'll take care of you,” she murmured and turned toward the house. “Are you walking or riding?”

He sighed and grimaced. “I guess I'm riding,” he muttered. “Damned leg hurts like hell.”

She had a feeling he wouldn't have admitted that to anyone but her. It was the best kind of compliment. She smiled and shook her head when he offered to let her ride with him after he'd painstakingly mounted the horse and was sitting regally on its back.

“It wouldn't do your leg much good,” she reminded him. “I'll just walk alongside and look up at you adoringly, if you don't mind.”

“That'll be the day,” he mused.

She looked up. “What happened to your leg?” she asked softly.

“Bone damage and torn ligaments. I was pinned in the car when she wrecked it,” he said simply. “The surgeons repaired it as best they could, but there were complications. I'll always limp. And when I overdo, I'll always hurt.” He glanced at her. “I had a choice between limping or giving up the leg. I came in with a matched set and I intend to go out the same way.”

She pursed her lips, feeling mischievous, and almost asked an outrageous question. Then she blushed wildly and turned away.

He guessed the question and burst out laughing. “No,” he murmured. “It doesn't cramp my style in bed.”

She gasped, glaring at him. “I never—”

“You might as well have written it in twelve-inch letters on canvas,” he retorted.

Her mouth opened and then closed while she thought up searing retorts, none of which came to mind. Later, she'd think up hundreds, she was sure. But the thought of him in bed with another woman made her feel jealous and angry. And it showed.

He stopped, fingering the reins in one lean hand and waited for her to look up at him. His dark eyes, shadowy under the wide brim of his hat, watched her. “I'll qualify that,” he said after a long exchange of eyes. “I don't think it will cramp my style. I haven't been with a woman since it happened.”

Her breath caught, but she didn't look away. It was such an intimate thing to know about him, and she struggled to think of a suitable reply.

“That wasn't fair, was it?” he asked with a slow smile. “And I can't tell you for the life of me why I wanted you to know that. But I did. We'd better get home. It's getting dark.”

She lowered her eyes to the trail that led back to the house. His revelation shouldn't have mattered to her, but it did. She smiled softly to herself, unaware that he saw the smile, and understood it.

He lit a cigarette and rode along beside her with a carefully hidden smug expression while he smoked it. “How about dinner tomorrow night? I'll drive you into Butte.”

She felt chills to the tips of her toes and a wild excitement that was new, like the sudden tenderness between herself and Winthrop. “If Gerald doesn't need me, I'd love to,” she said.

He hesitated. He looked down at her curiously, but he didn't speak. “Okay.”

She wondered about the reason for his withdrawn expression and the odd silence the rest of the way to the house. That was good, because it kept her from thinking about the way he'd kissed her. She'd never felt more threatened in her life, and the worst of it was that she wasn't even afraid of what might happen between them.

He glanced at her just once, shocked by the surge of jealousy he felt at her remark about Gerald. It was that, too. Jealousy. He was afraid that there was something between this woman and his brother, and his own sense of honor and family wouldn't allow him to trespass on Gerald's territory. He wanted her to be heart-whole. He wanted that desperately. Could she have kissed him that way and still belong to Gerald? Surely not!

He pulled his emotions up short. It wouldn't do to give in to this unexpected yen for her. He was playing with fire, and God forbid he should get burned a second time.

Nicole, unaware of his thoughts, was having some difficulties of her own trying to figure out his taciturn somberness after the new and delicate camaraderie between them. She guessed, rightly, that he was holding back out of apprehension, and she even understood. But she didn't want him to leave her alone. She was beginning to love him, and it was only when she admitted it that she realized how desperately she wanted him.

W
inthrop wasn't at the supper table. Nicole didn't really expect him to be, because it was early November now, and according to Gerald, the boss was getting his management program in gear for winter. That included culling cattle; weaning, preconditioning and delivering calves; making the initial selection of replacement cattle and starting them on feed; and all the veterinarian-related chores that that entailed. With the sheer immensity of the cow-calf operation, it was a full-time job for the boss to keep up with what was going on. Mike, the foreman, relieved Winthrop of a lot of headaches, but even with a firm of accountants to do the paperwork, Winthrop still had to make the big decisions. No wonder he was putting in so many late hours, Nicole thought after Gerald had explained his absence.

Later that evening, Gerald had some correspondence for her. They went into the study to work. The room had Winthrop's personality stamped all over it. There was a bear's head on the wall, and burgundy leather furniture. The rugs were Indian, and the huge stone fireplace was made of native rock in comparable colors. The desk was oak, the chairs man-size and comfortable. There was a copper kettle on the hearth, and it reminded Nicole of the huge copper mining operation she'd seen as they came through Butte on the day they'd arrived. On the wall was a portrait of a man in buckskin, and she wondered if that was the French trader who was an ancestor of the Christophers.

“By the way, Sadie's invited us for dinner Friday night,” Gerald said as he sorted out his mail, which had been forwarded from Chicago that afternoon. “Is that convenient for you?”

“That's fine,” she said. “I look forward to meeting her again.” She sat poised with her steno pad on her lap. “Uh, Winthrop asked if I'd go into Butte with him tomorrow night. To a restaurant.”

Gerald pursed his lips and smiled mischievously. “I see,” he mused. “So Winthrop's out to take my girl away from me, is he? I'm not sure if I like that.”

It was an old joke between them, dating from her first six months as his secretary when two of the vice presidents had tried to steal her out from under his nose. She laughed and he was smiling. But the man out in the hall, overhearing him, didn't see that. Winthrop was within reach of the doorknob, but his lean hand faltered.

“He's not likely to try to take me away from you, so you can stop worrying,” she said, tongue in cheek. “Anyway, he couldn't do it, you're quite unmatchable. Are you reassured?”

“I am.” Gerald sighed theatrically, his brown eyes playful. He wasn't at all bad-looking. He just seemed very young beside his brother. “What a frightening thought!” he added with a mock shudder. “That I could lose you to my own brother. But Winthrop is too much a gentleman to steal from people, so I can relax. Now, suppose we get down to work?”

Winthrop turned and walked out the front door. His footsteps were so soft, and the closing of the door so quiet, that the occupants of the study didn't hear him.

He hadn't expected Nicole to be like that. He'd been sure that her ardor was real, that she'd felt the same tenderness he had. And here she was telling Gerald that there was no chance Winthrop could turn her head. He felt sick to his stomach and furiously angry. He couldn't bear the thought of being near her anymore, not after hearing her conversation with Gerald. What a close call, but at least he'd been spared. His face hardened as he began to work out what he was going to do. Thank God, she'd never know just how close she'd come to getting under his skin.

There was no sign of Winthrop for the rest of the evening, and the next morning, Gerald found a note waiting for him when they sat down to breakfast. He read over it, obviously puzzled.

“Winthrop,” he said, waving the slip of paper. “He's gone to Omaha, God knows why. Something about a cattle deal. He said he's sorry about this evening, but he'll have to take a rain check on your dinner date.”

“That's all right,” she said, hiding her disappointment. “I'm sure he couldn't help it.”

Gerald, who knew his older brother a little better than Nicole did, was uneasy. Winthrop hadn't offered to take a woman out to dinner since that blond barracuda did him in. Nicky had touched something in him, something cold and dormant, and now Winthrop seemed determined to fight it to the last breath. Gerald studied Nicky, wondering if she had any idea how disturbing Winthrop must find her. Probably not. She was a sweet person, a little reserved most of the time. Gerald was fond of her, in a brotherly way, and he felt responsible for Winthrop's unexpected coolness toward her. Knowing how his brother felt, Gerald should have been more wary of bringing a woman to the ranch. But it had been Winthrop who'd mentioned bringing Nicky. Come to think of it, Winthrop had asked a lot of questions about her after he'd seen her that day at the Chicago office. He pursed his lips. Well, well. Big brother had an Achilles' heel, it seemed. He smiled as the thought warmed his mind. And now that Winthrop had the quarry near the hook, he was going to play her for a while, was that it? Or had he gotten cold feet and was now running?

“You're very quiet,” Nicole said hesitantly.

“I'm just thinking. By the way, with Winthrop gone, would you rather spend tonight at Sadie's?” he asked with old-world politeness.

She smiled. “You're a nice man. Would you mind?”

“Heavens, no,” he murmured. Besides, it would give him an excuse to see Sadie again the next day, when he went to fetch Nicky. And it would kill any potential gossip stone dead. Winthrop might appreciate that one day.

They went that night to have dinner with Sadie. She was a tall woman with blond hair and soft brown eyes. Nicky had always liked her, and the two of them found plenty to talk about when Sadie had come by the office to wait for Gerald.

“I'll be delighted to have you stay the night,” Sadie told her enthusiastically. “It gets lonely with just me for company. Mother likes people.”

“How is she?” Gerald asked gently.

Sadie sighed and shook her head. “No better. No worse. She just lies and looks at the wall and begs to die.” She bit back tears. “Here, Nicky, help me get the food on the table, will you? Gerald, would you like to go in and ask Mother if she needs anything?”

“Certainly,” he agreed, and paused to exchange a look with Sadie that was long and bittersweet.

Sadie watched him leave the room, her eyes wandering over his tall figure in the becoming tan suit.

“I'm hopeless,” Sadie sighed, smiling shyly. “I love him to death, but there's not a thing I can do about it. I love Mother, too. I can't leave her.”

Nicky studied the wan face. “He hasn't been well, either,” she said.

Sadie glanced up. “Oh, dear.”

“An ulcer,” Nicole said. “Just an ulcer. But he pushes so hard.”

“He always has. Competing, you know,” she added with a loving smile. “He feels he has to come up to par with Winthrop.”

“That would be a tall order,” Nicky said without thinking as she laid the table.

Sadie glanced at her as she filled cups with steaming black coffee. “He's a cold man.”

“Not really,” Nicole replied softly. “He's just hurt, that's all.”

The older woman pursed her lips. “How did you wind up on the ranch?”

“Mr. Christopher wanted to come home for a month to rest and work. I have car payments, furniture payments, payment payments…” She grinned. “I couldn't afford to lose a month's pay, so I came, too.”

“And now Winthrop's done a vanishing act. Why?”

“I don't know,” Nicky said honestly. “He asked me out to dinner tonight, and then this morning he left.” She shrugged. “He's very difficult to understand.”

“He always was. I've known the two brothers for years. I went to school with Gerald.” She filled the coffee cups and then placed them in their lovely china saucers on the linen tablecloth. “Winthrop was always a loner, although he was something of a rounder in his younger days. He broke hearts…”

“I'll bet he did,” Nicky murmured. She looked up. “Did you know about the blonde?”

“Everybody around here knew about the blonde,” Sadie replied. “It was a nine-day wonder. The gossip went on forever, as it does in small communities. Winthrop got back on his feet and lived it down, but I imagine he hasn't really gotten over it. She was a first-class barracuda. She'd have cut him up like fish bait if they hadn't been in that wreck. She'd have taken him for everything he had, and left him bleeding without a backward glance. She married an oil millionaire, you know. They say she's got a closet full of mink coats.”

“How sad,” Nicky said genuinely, her green eyes full of bitterness. “So many people marry for money. Or try to.”

“I'll bet you never would,” Sadie said unexpectedly. “Gerald always did like you. I'm a bit jealous of you.”

“Me?” Nicky grinned. “Thanks, but he's too nice a man to make a play for his secretary. I'd do anything for him, but only in the line of duty. I'm shy that way. Most men don't appeal to me physically.”

“Does Winthrop?”

Nicole flushed and flapped around while Sadie burst out laughing.

“I'm sorry, but your guilty secret is safe with me,” Sadie said with a laugh. “Oh, Nicky, what a man to get hot and bothered by. The iceman!”

“It could be worse. I could develop a case for some married man with twenty kids.”

“True, true.” She put the finishing touches on the table arrangement. “Come and meet Mother, and then I'll show you where to put your overnight case.”

“You're nice to let me stay,” Nicky said. “You and I know that nothing would go on, but people talk. I don't want any gossip about my nice boss.”

“Neither do I, and I'm glad you're old-fashioned.” The nurse narrowed her eyes. “You really are old-fashioned, aren't you?” she asked with startling perception.

Nicky cleared her throat. “I always thought…well, marriage is nice. They say white only means it's your first marriage, but it means a lot more than that to me. I had old-fashioned grandparents.”

She didn't add that she had wildly liberated parents and a succession of stepparents, or that her grandparents had gone to court to save her from the glitter.

“Good for them,” Sadie said. “Her room's through here.”

Sadie's mother was small and withered and very quiet. She looked like a little doll lying there, white hair and pale blue eyes and a beaten look about her. She could only move one side of her body—even one eye and part of her mouth were affected. It must have been a massive stroke.

“Mama, this is Nicky,” Sadie introduced her.

Gerald moved. He'd been sitting on the bed beside the little old woman, holding her hand. He got up so that Nicky could sit and take the wrinkled little fingers in hers.

“Hello, Mama,” Nicky grinned. “Or should I call you Mrs. Todd?” She raised her eyebrows.

“You may call me Mama if you like,” Sadie's mother said, with the first hint of a twinkle in her eyes.

“That would be nice,” Nicky said, smiling. “Mine died a long time ago. I don't have one. So if Sadie doesn't mind, I can share you. It's a pretty big deal,” she added with mock solemnity. “I live on a tight budget, so working another person into my Christmas shopping list is a great honor. I give Godiva chocolates as presents,” she whispered.

The old lady actually laughed. Her thin fingers tightened on Nicky's. “Do you?” she whispered.

“Do you like chocolates?”

Mama managed to smile. “I love them!”

“Lucky you, to have just adopted me,” Nicky said. She searched the tired old eyes. “I'll bet you were as beautiful as Sadie, at her age,” she mused.

“Yes, I was,” the old woman said emphatically. “Sadie…show her.”

“This was Mother at my age.” Sadie held up a small portrait study. The woman in the photograph was standing beside a tall, dark man, and she was the image of Sadie.

“Weren't you a dish?” Nicole sighed, studying it. “You're still a dish,” she added, glancing down at the smiling woman. “What can we bring you to eat? I saw roast beef and mashed potatoes and a salad….”

“Mashed potatoes and gravy,” the woman replied eagerly. “And is there pudding?”

“Yes,” Sadie said quickly, although there wasn't and she'd have to rush back and make one.

“I'll have pudding, too,” came the pleased reply. “Now go and eat,” her mother said. “Then Nicole can visit with me while you and Gerald put everything away.”

“Nicky's staying the night. Winthrop's away,” Sadie explained.

“If it's all right,” Nicky asked.

“It's all right,” the old woman said fiercely. “Go and eat, child. If I adopt you, you must be fattened up. I don't want any thin children.”

Nicky laughed, her green eyes sparkling in her elfin face as she got to her feet. “I'll double up on portions. And I'll bring your pudding myself.”