Rage of Passion (10 page)

“Why not?” he replied casually, and took a sip of brandy. “You're pretty and honest, you've got a lovely little girl, and I'm a lonely man. You need money, I've got it. We're a match made in heaven.”

“Those aren't good reasons to get married,” she returned, but she felt as if the ground had been cut from under her. She wanted him. Physically, at least. He attracted her, and perhaps she wouldn't freeze in his arms. He was strong and powerful and rich. He'd take care of them both, of Becky and herself. And in bed, he'd give her what she'd never had with a man. But why was he offering? He wasn't a marrying man, he'd said it before. What did he expect to get out of it? Or did he just want Maggie so much that he was willing to give up his freedom to have her? That didn't make a lot of sense, either. It would be a risk, marrying him. What if it didn't work out?

The turbulence of her thoughts showed in her face as she looked at him.

“Go ahead,” he said, “torment yourself with what-ifs.” He finished the brandy. “You've got a little longer to play on the line before I start reeling you in.” He got to his feet and towered over her. “Just remember, honey, I make a hell of an adversary. I won't give up or give in. If I want you, I'll have you.”

“By force?” she demanded with a bit of her old spirit.

“Never by force, pretty girl,” he replied. He bent and brushed his mouth over hers. “I want to ravish your senses, not take something you don't want to give me. Physical pleasure has to be shared, or it's selfish. You've had enough of that already.”

She searched his eyes, afraid of him, hungry for him. “Can it be shared, Gabriel?” she asked in a whisper, her eyes wide and curious.

“If both partners are intent on giving more than they expect to get,” he said enigmatically.

“And it…isn't supposed to hurt?”

His eyes burned down into hers. “No,” he bit off. “It isn't supposed to hurt. Ever.”

She dropped her gaze to his bare chest. “I didn't know. There was no one I could ask, you see. Even my best friend, Trudie. I can't talk about things like that.”

“Except with me, apparently,” he mused, his eyes gently indulgent. He caught her hand in his. “Sit down.”

He dropped down onto the big sofa and let her curl up next to him again as he lit a cigarette. “I hope you're not sleepy. This may take a while. Don't look at me, if it helps. I'm going to tell you all about sex, Miss Turner. I think it's time, don't you?”

She looked up at him, feeling her face color. “I know…”

“Nothing,” he said for her, grinning. “But you will when I'm through. Now be quiet, and listen.”

It was fascinating. He might have been a university lecturer giving a cram course in sex education. He did it without vulgarity, in a matter-of-fact way that didn't embarrass or shock her. And when he was through, she knew more than marriage and having a child had taught her.

She caught her breath. “I never realized it was so complicated,” she told him.

“It's a miracle,” he replied. “In every respect. And miracles shouldn't be twisted into minor amusements. The only times I ever had sex with women, I was involved emotionally. I couldn't lower my pride enough to buy it.”

And men were supposed to be indifferent about feelings? She stared up at him, fascinated. “Did you learn…all that…with women?”

The corners of his firm mouth curved up. “Not all of it, no. I wanted to be a doctor when I graduated from high school. I took two years of premed before I switched to veterinary science. I learned all sorts of interesting things about bodies and how they work.”

“So I've noticed,” she murmured.

He touched her chin, tilting it. “Sex is beautiful,” he said softly. “In the proper circumstances, it's an exquisite expression of love and commitment. God must have thought so, because He allowed children to come of it.”

She searched his pale eyes, smiling. He was an enigma. Such a hard, unbending man to be so sensitive. “Thank you for the lesson,” she said.

“My pleasure. Hearing it might not remove those scars, but it could put what you've experienced into perspective. You aren't frigid—you're just untaught.”

“I could never talk to Dennis about sex,” she recalled quietly. “He said it was my fault that it was never good.”

“I'm afraid he had it backward,” he replied. “A considerate lover can make it good.”

Her eyes lifted. Her lips parted to ask the question, but at the last second she got cold feet and averted her eyes.

He leaned close to her ear. “What do you want to know, big eyes? How I am in bed?”

“Of course not!” she blurted.

He took her earlobe gently between his teeth and teased it, and she felt the sensations all the way to her toes. “I'm slow, and thorough, and I know where all the nerves are,” he whispered.

She made a wild little sound and darted away from him, her eyes like saucers in a face burning with embarrassment.

He laughed, leaning back against the sofa to study her frenzied confusion. “Running away so soon?” he murmured. “You wanted to know. I told you.”

“You were being kind, for once,” she grumbled. “Now you're back to your old cutting self.”

“I'm frustrated,” he replied. “I should have explained frustration to you. It makes bears out of nice men.”

“You never were a nice man,” she told him, brushing back her hair.

“That's true,” he agreed pleasantly. He winked at her. “But I'm sexy.”

She smiled. “I guess you are,” she agreed unexpectedly.

He lifted an eyebrow. “I'm delighted that you agree. At some future date, would you like me to prove it to you?”

“Well…”

“Chicken,” he chided. “Go to bed. Tomorrow, I'm taking Becky for her first ride. You can come, if you like.”

“Gabe, she's so small,” she protested.

“And I'm big,” he replied. “And I'll take good care of her. And her mother.”

“I can't help being overprotective,” she said defensively.

“It's just a stage you're going through,” he told her. “You'll outgrow it. I'll help. Now, scoot. Let me drink myself to sleep, so that I can forget this swollen arm you damn near burst.”

“I damn near burst?” she echoed blankly.

“Trying to rape me,” he replied with virtuous indignation. “Look at me, for God's sake! Shirt half off, fingerprints all over my chest, I smell of whatever kind of perfume you've bathed in…”

Her eyes widened. He was flirting with her. She'd had so little experience with flirting. But it seemed like fun.

“You took my blouse off,” she countered. “Women have equal rights.”

“I took more than your blouse off, actually,” he mused, staring at her breasts. “The ancient Greek women used to go bare-breasted, did you know? You'd have knocked the competition dead.”

And she'd always thought of herself as too small to appeal to a man. Her fascinated gaze held his. “Do you really think so?”

He laughed softly. “Yes, I really think so. Go to bed, damn it. How long do you think I can sit here calmly talking about your breasts without stripping you and throwing you down on the carpet?”

“How uncivilized,” she commented haughtily.

“Exciting.” His eyes glittered wickedly. “Your bare back on that rug, and my body grinding you down into it with the door unlocked….”

She turned, catching her breath. “I'm going to bed.”

“I wish I was going with you,” he sighed, reaching for his brandy snifter. “Maggie…”

She paused, her hand on the doorknob. “Yes?”

“I want a few days to see how Becky adjusts. Then, if she likes it, you and I will talk and come to a decision about what needs doing.”

She stared into his narrowed, quiet eyes. “I don't understand.”

“Oh, I think you do,” he said, and held her gaze until her heartbeat shook her. “I think you know exactly what I mean, after tonight.”

She held on to her nerves with shaky control. “I may not be able to give you what you want,” she said. “Dennis…changed me. What we've done is sweet, and I like it. But…”

“But you aren't certain you can give yourself to me, is that it?” he asked with quiet perception.

“That's it exactly,” she said miserably.

He pursed his lips to search her eyes. “Maggie, if it helps, I'm not insensitive to what you must feel about intimacy. But I think you're overlooking one important factor.”

“What?”

“I'm not your ex-husband,” he said. “I've never hurt a woman deliberately. I'm not a sadistic man.”

“Oh, I know that,” she told him. “I've always known that.”

“Then give me credit for a little sensitivity,” he replied. “Trust me.”

“Trust is hard.”

“Tell me about it.” He chuckled darkly. “Or have you forgotten that I've had some hard knocks of my own in that department? Mother told you that I got hurt, but I'm the only one who knows how badly. I loved her. Or thought I did,” he added, and for the first time he wasn't really sure. It all seemed very far away now, with Maggie here, lovely and tempting.

“I'm sorry about that.”

“I'm sorry about your rough time, too, honey,” he said softly. “But that's in the past. You and I have Becky to think about. If we don't do something, you may lose her.”

“I know,” she murmured.

“Don't worry,” he said. “He'll have to go through me to get her, court or no court. But maybe there's an easier way. I've got an idea. I'll tell you if it pans out. Good night.”

“I haven't even thanked you,” she said suddenly, “for all you've done.”

His eyes traveled slowly to her mouth. “Haven't you?” He raised the snifter, smiling as she turned, flustered, and left him there.

Chapter Six

B
ecky seemed like a different child on the big ranch. Despite the demands of his position, and his sore arm, Gabe found time to help her get used to her new environment.

He put her on a horse the day after she arrived, while Maggie stood with her hands clenched, murmuring soft prayers.

“It's all right, honey,” Gabe told the nervous little girl as he helped her onto a small mare, grimacing as he forced his arm to perform the minor task. Becky was light, but any pressure still caused him some problems. “She's old and gentle. Your mother used to ride her, in fact,” he added, glancing toward Maggie with a grin. “Remember Butterball?”

“That isn't Butterball!” Maggie exclaimed. “But, Gabe, she'd have to be twenty-five years old.”

“She's twenty-six,” he said. He checked the cinch and put the reins in Becky's hands, teaching her how to sit the horse, how to hold it in check, how to keep her knees and elbows in and guide the horse with the faintest pressure of her legs.

“You sure know a lot about horses,” Becky said with shy admiration, her soft green eyes glancing off his.

“I've worked around them all my life,” he replied. “I love animals. I took courses in veterinary science in college and almost had a degree in it.”

“I like animals, too,” Becky said enthusiastically. “But we never got to have any,” she added, looking away sadly. “Daddy was allergic. And when we came away, Mama had to work and I had to go away to school. They don't let you have dogs at school.”

“Do you want a dog?” Gabe asked her, ignoring Maggie's frantic signals and head shaking. “Because Bill Dane down the road has a litter of registered collies. If you want one, I'll get it for you.”

Becky's face was fascinating—a study in admiration, excitement, surprise and pure delight. “You would?” she whispered.

Maggie shut up. She'd let the dog sleep in the parlor. She'd buy it a house. Whatever she had to do, it would be worth it to see that young face so happy. She hadn't even known Becky wanted a pet.

“I would,” Gabe said, and grinned. “If your mother doesn't mind,” he added belatedly, cocking an eyebrow at Maggie.

“Of course her mother doesn't mind,” Maggie murmured, and made a face at him.

He laughed. “I thought you wouldn't. Closing the gate after the bull gets out, don't they say?” he added.

“I like dogs,” she said.

“Me too!” Becky burst out, her ponytail bobbing as she stared down at Gabe. She started to reach out but abruptly brought her hand back to her reins, and her small face closed up all over again.

Maggie felt tears sting her eyes. She'd have to tell him, later, how great a step that was for Becky, who avoided any physical contact with people she didn't know—especially men. Just the inclination to reach out was a milestone in the child's life.

But he seemed to know, because when he looked toward Maggie he wasn't laughing. And the eyes that met hers were dark with a kind of pain.

“Can we go now? Right now?” Becky asked excitedly. “Can we get a puppy today?”

“First we go riding,” Gabe said. “Then we'll see.”

“All right,” Becky sighed.

“Becky,” Maggie chided. “Where are your manners?”

“In my back pocket.” Becky grinned. “Want to see?”

It was a sharp and delightful change to see her shy little daughter so vividly happy and outgoing. Maggie smiled up at Gabe, the sunlight turning her eyes as green as grass.

He winked at her before he turned to give her the reins of her own mount. “Can you get up all by yourself?” he asked in a gently mocking tone of voice.

She glared at him. “I know how to ride,” she replied indignantly—and then ruined everything by missing the stirrup.

He caught her arm with his good hand and kept her upright. “Pilgrim,” he accused. He steadied her while she got her booted foot into the stirrup and threw the other leg over gracefully. The steely hand on her arm wasn't doing a lot for her nerves, but she didn't refuse the offer of assistance.

He gathered the reins of his own horse and stepped easily into the saddle, looking so much at home up there that Maggie just stared at him.

“Stay right with me, honey,” Gabe told Becky, moving into step with her horse. “There's nothing to worry about. I'll take care of you.”

“All right,” Becky said. Her small hands gripped the reins just as Gabe had taught her to. She glanced at him to make sure she was doing it right, and he nodded.

Maggie trailed along beside Gabe on the wide farm road, drinking in the beauty of vast horizons and grazing cattle and the feel of the warm spring breeze in her hair. There had been other times like this, long ago, when she and his sisters had gone riding. Sometimes they'd meet him unexpectedly on the trail, and her heart would run wild. It might have been only a schoolgirl crush, but it had hurt when she hadn't seen him again. Her eyes adored him unconsciously, admiring the powerful length of his body, the straightness of his carriage, the lean hands so deft and strong on the reins. He was exceptional. He always had been. And she might marry him….