A Memory Worth Dying For (17 page)

Marti saw the question in his eyes before they moved down to her lips. His hand moved to touch her face then stopped. “I feel a closeness to you, Marti. Are you sure . . .” He stopped in mid-sentence and moved his head a little closer. From the doorway, someone gasped.

“Daniel!”

Like a horrible reminder of something dead, Marti remembered why she was here.

Veronica.

Daniel jerked away from Marti and took a guilty step backward. He turned toward the angry head of red hair standing in the doorway.

“Veronica, come see the sketch Mar . . . uh . . . Ms. Rushing has done. It’s amazing. A perfect likeness so far.”

“Ms. Rushing!”

Princess let out a mournful wail and went flying into the bedroom and under the bed.

Furious was a mild word for the emotion Marti saw flash across Veronica’s eyes. Livid was closer to the mark.

Veronica’s eyes diminished to slits. Her lips thinned to tight small lines.

“Daniel, your father asked me to tell you they need you in the office downstairs. My father is there, and they want to discuss the auction next week.”

Daniel glanced at Marti and spoke with an edge of annoyance. “I’ll be back later to finish the session.”

Marti nodded at him and began sorting her pastels into the proper sections of the box, trying to ignore the foot-tapping, arms-folded, fury-filled woman staring at her from the doorway.

“What do you think you are doing here?”

The first sentence out of Veronica’s mouth was laced with a warning that sounded as deadly as strychnine.

Marti raised her chin. “I’m painting Daniel’s portrait for Gerald.”

Veronica glared at her, doubt filling her eyes and sarcasm lacing her words. “Sure you are.”

Veronica took deliberate steps over to Marti and pushed herself into Marti’s face. Her voice sounded red-hot—almost enough to sizzle the hair on Marti’s forehead.

“Leave him alone, Martha. You had a chance to make him happy, and you blew it. Not only did you hurt Daniel by killing his sister, but you disgraced the whole family with your drunkenness and promiscuity. Don’t think for a minute Daniel will ever take you back, even if he does remember your horrible excuse for a marriage.”

Marti blanched white at the rage filling that one paragraph and the insecurity Veronica’s words thrust through her heart. The air seemed to seep from her like a balloon with the tiniest of holes, but she summoned one last burst of anger.

Through gritted teeth, she said, “My name is
Marti
, and it’s none of your business what happens between Daniel and me.” After that fiery statement and before her legs became so weak she couldn’t stand, she walked out of the room and into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Slumping against the door she bit her bottom lip, trying to hold back the tears that formed in spite of her attempt to keep them at bay.

Remind yourself why you’re here, Marti, even if this is crazy
.

Veronica would do anything to keep Daniel, even lie if necessary, and there would be nothing Marti could do about it. In spite of all Marti’s attempts to make Daniel remember what real love felt like, Veronica might still become his wife. And that filled Marti with a sadness so strong it sucked the life right out of her heart.

THIRTY-ONE

VERONICA PACED ACROSS THE STONE
pathway outside the Rushing ranch, waiting for her father. Anger festered inside her. How dare
Marti
waltz back into Daniel’s home and pretend she was here to paint a portrait!
Marti
couldn’t even paint—much less a portrait. She was here to cause trouble.

She furiously patted her foot on the sienna stones. “Marti—indeed!”

No matter what she thought of Marti’s name change, Marti being here would definitely complicate things. She might even make Daniel think twice about his engagement. She would put doubts in Daniel’s head and confuse him about who could truly make him happy.

Daniel belongs to me!

Veronica squeezed her fists and stared at the second story window where she’d seen Marti flirting with Daniel. Fury and fear built inside her until she gave in to the desire for retaliation. What could she do that would hurt the most? Make Marti look inept in front of Daniel? Tell Daniel who Marti really was? That would make him boil. She had exaggerated Marti’s character flaws enough that Daniel would be furious when he found out Gerald let Marti slip back into his life.

But . . . telling Daniel that Marti was his wife might blow up in her face.

Daniel already felt a physical pull toward Marti—Veronica felt a chill as she remembered the look in his eyes. When Veronica walked into the studio, their faces had been only inches apart. Marti was batting her eyes at Daniel—pretending to be so shy and feminine—and Daniel was confused, that’s all. If Veronica told Daniel who Marti was, he might decide to forgive Marti and give her a second chance. She couldn’t let that happen. After all, she would make Daniel happier than Marti ever had, wouldn’t she? She was beautiful, a much better horsewoman, and from a wealthy ranching family—an excellent catch in most people’s eyes, though she had to admit those qualities hadn’t drawn Daniel to her before Marti came along. Marti—a nobody with no family and no future. What had he seen in her?

Veronica shook the memories from her head and focused on the present. Daniel hated confrontation. He wouldn’t like it if she acted vindictive by telling him who Marti really was. That would push him away even further. She’d have to act without exposing Marti, but Marti definitely had to be taken care of.

The side door opened, and she turned to see her father walking out the door with Gerald. Daniel followed closely behind. Daniel came over to the truck and grabbed her hand. His face seemed a little pale.

“Veronica, why are you leaving? I thought we were going riding.”

A debate went on inside her—should she show him that she was peeved? Or should she act as if jealousy was the last thing on her mind? She decided on the former.

She pasted a little pout on her lips and looked at him through her lashes. “I guess I was a little jealous, darling. It made me feel terribly uncomfortable to see you standing so close to that artist—especially since you know how it feels to have someone be unfaithful.”

Daniel’s eyes flashed a bright brown. “What do you mean?”

“I felt a little like you probably felt when you heard your wife had been flirting with another man.”

Daniel dropped her hands and backed up. He didn’t say a word, but Veronica could see the conflict going on in his eyes. Had she chosen the right course of action?

Finally, he spoke. “Nikki, I was just looking over her shoulder at the picture she had drawn with her pastels, that’s all. I didn’t stand beside her for any other reason. I was looking at the picture.”

“Well, how would you have felt if you had found me standing that close to a tall, handsome cowboy? Wouldn’t you have been just a little bit jealous?”

Daniel seemed to consider that scenario. He shook his head. “Nikki, I think trust is unarguably the most important thing in a relationship. Didn’t I learn that from the mistakes of my first marriage? If I trusted you, it wouldn’t make any difference, but I admit, I can see how it might have made you feel a little uncomfortable.”

A shiver of uncertainty traveled through Veronica. Had she gone too far? Veronica shook her head. “Okay, darling. We’ll let it drop. I do trust you, but I don’t like that artist living in this house. Can’t you get her a hotel room in town?”

Daniel’s expression turned dark, and she decided changing the subject was the best course of action. Insisting on moving Marti to a hotel only accentuated her lack of trust. It was
Marti
she didn’t trust, but she didn’t want Daniel to think it was him. At least this conversation might give him something to think about.

“Look, darling. It’s getting late. Why don’t we reschedule our ride for tomorrow?” She kissed him on the lips and gave him a hug. “I love you, Daniel. You know that, don’t you?”

Daniel nodded but kept silent.

“I’ll be by tomorrow for our ride.”

Daniel nodded. “I’ll see you then.”

Disappointed that he didn’t assure her of his love, Veronica stepped past their fathers and climbed into her father’s truck to gaze unseeing toward the pasture.

Daniel shook hands with Shane when he approached the driver’s door. Shane got in behind the wheel and spoke through the open window to Gerald.

“I’ll call the auctioneer next week, Gerald, and see if he’d like to stay at the house. This is the first auction we’ve had in our county. We want to make a good impression.”

Gerald nodded. “I think we’ll get one hundred percent participation from the adjoining counties, and I know the Quarter Horse Association is on board. If we keep up our end of the bargain, I think we can be assured of future events being held in our county. I’m glad the path of that doggone wildfire has turned away from the town. Hopefully, they’ll have it out soon.”

Veronica sat biting her lip. She wanted Daniel to feel her aloofness, but at the same time, she didn’t want to make him angry. She wanted to leave him missing her. As her father cranked the truck and pulled away from the curb, she leaned toward the window, smiled, and blew Daniel a kiss. He waved and smiled.

Yes! That was perfect. He loved her. She could tell by that grin on his face. Now maybe he’d think twice about how he acted when hanging around Ms. Portrait Artist.

Veronica sat up straight in the seat and blew out a frustrated breath. She was getting a headache.

“Why are you in such a bad mood, sugar? Didn’t you enjoy your visit with Daniel?”

“Ha! What visit?” Veronica tugged on a lock of her red hair and looped it behind her ear. “Martha was there and completely monopolized Daniel. You should have seen her, Daddy. When I went upstairs to get him, Martha was leaning over toward him—laughing and flirting. It was disgusting, especially after the way she ruined his life the first time.”

Shane’s nostril’s flared. “What did he say when he saw you?”

“Oh, he acted like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He was contrite and embarrassed. But Martha acted purely smug. If she thinks she’s going to win Daniel back from me this time, she’s got another thing coming. I won’t let it happen. He loves me. I can see it in his eyes. Martha humiliated him when she had him, and I won’t let her at him again.”

Shane pulled the truck into their driveway and stopped. He turned toward her. “Be careful, darlin’. You might not want to admit it, but Daniel loved Martha once. Just because she did something to turn him away doesn’t mean all those feelings he felt for her completely dried up. At this point in time, he can’t even remember the pain he felt over what she did, so the anger he feels now won’t be as strong as it was when it happened. He might be angry at what she did, but if you push too hard, I’m afraid he might decide to give those loving feelings a second chance. And we certainly don’t want that to happen.”

“So, do you think I should tell him who she is . . . or was?”

“No, I don’t think so.” He leaned over and gave her a hug. “Just be your sweet self and win him over that way instead of by making Martha look bad. You attract more flies with sugar than with vinegar.”

Veronica glowered at her father. “Oh Daddy. Honestly. Vinegar?”

Shane smiled, put the truck in gear, and drove down the long driveway.

Veronica lounged back in the seat. No way was she going to leave everything to chance. She had to show Daniel how much he loved her. Maybe she’d ask him to take her on a trip to the rodeo in the next county for the weekend. He seemed to be at ease and happier when he was at an event that included horses.

The smile on her face grew wider. She’d keep Daniel away from Marti. Veronica knew Daniel loved her. He just needed to get away from Marti’s devious strategies. All she had to do was keep them apart, and she had a perfect idea how.

Marti had crossed a line—something Marti would be sorry for. Veronica would have to take matters back into her own hands. Yep, she knew exactly what to do.

THIRTY-TWO

MARTI’S SUBCONSCIOUS SCREAMED AT HER T
o wake up. She struggled out of sleep and tried to put a finger on what was causing her unrest. The room was as black as the deepest section of woods at night and just as scary.

A muffled noise came from somewhere close.

Her eyes, heavy with sleep, struggled to see through the darkness. She sat up in bed and searched her bedroom. A tiny sliver of moonlight shimmered through the opening of the sheer curtains enough for her to see that everything was quiet and peaceful. She must have been dreaming.

She turned over in bed and tried to relax. A muscle in her neck tensed, as if waiting for something to happen.

Another noise.

She turned toward the window again and stared at the place the sound came from. The ray of moonlight coming in the window was broken by a shadowed movement as it moved closer to the bed.

Marti jerked up in bed and screamed as a figure in black rushed toward her. Her screams vibrated through her skull, until they were silenced by a hand clamped over her mouth. She kicked at the covers and pulled at the leather glove keeping her from breathing.

The hand dropped from her mouth as one of her pillows replaced it and was pushed against her face. The power of the blow forced her back onto the bed with bone shaking fierceness and mashed her body into the mattress. Her arms thrashed about trying to defend herself against muscle and strength, and the bedside lamp tumbled to the floor with a loud crash. Her attacker threw himself on top of her, restraining her body under the covers. She kicked at him with frantic jerky movements and tried to escape the covers holding her captive on the bed.

Claustrophobia inched its way into her consciousness.

I can’t breathe! I need air!

Marti’s hands clawed at the person holding the pillow. The muscles under the material felt like steel. She tore at the pillow covering her face, trying to turn her head and escape the pressure on her nose and mouth. Her head was held in a vise. She felt the gloved hands clinch the corners of the pillow and press even harder. Her lungs cramped, begging for air. She felt the heat of her open mouth in the pillow as she tried to find oxygen to breathe.