Duncan's Bride (14 page)

Reese's face was like granite. “No. Remember our prenuptial agreement? What's yours is yours and what's mine is mine. If you spent your money on the ranch it would go a long way toward negating that agreement, giving you a claim to it on the basis of upkeep.”

She poked him in the chest, her jaw jutting forward. “For one thing, G. Reese Duncan,
I'm
not planning on getting a divorce, so I don't give a flip what's in your precious agreement. For another, how much would it cost to paint the house? A hundred dollars? Two hundred?”

“Closer to two hundred, and no, by God, you're not buying the paint!”

“I'm not only going to buy it, I'm going to paint it! If you're so set on protecting the ranch from my scheming, then we'll draw up a contract where you agree to repay me for the paint—and my time
, too, if you insist—and that will take care of any claim I could make against you. But I live here, too, you know, and I want the outside to look as nice as the inside. Next spring I'm planting flowers in the flower beds, so if you object to that we might as well fight it out now. The only choice you have right now is the color you want the house painted, and your choices are white and white.” She was yelling by the time she finished, her face flushed.

He was more furious than she'd ever seen him before. “Do whatever the hell you want,” he snapped and slammed out of the kitchen.

She did. The next time they went into town she bought the paint and brushes and paid for them with one of her own checks, glaring at him and daring him to start again. He carried the paint out to the truck with ill grace. The high point of that day was when they stopped at the café for coffee and listened to Floris berating her customers.

She had the house painted by the middle of August, and had developed a healthy respect for people who painted houses for a living. It was some of the hardest work she'd ever done, leaving her shoulders and arms aching by the end of the day. The most aggravating part was painting the hundreds of thin porch railings; the most nerve-racking was doing the second floor, because she had to anchor herself to something. But when it was finished and the house gleamed like a jewel, and the shutters wore a new coat of black all-weather enamel, she was prouder of her efforts than she had ever been before of anything she'd done.

Even Reese grudgingly admitted that the house looked nice and she'd done a good job, but he still resented the fact that she'd done it. Maybe it was only male pride, but he didn't want his wife paying for something when he couldn't afford it himself.

His wife. By the time they had been married two months, she had insinuated herself so completely into his life that there wasn't a portion of it she hadn't touched. She had even rearranged his underwear drawer. Sometimes he wondered how she managed to accomplish as much as she did when her pace seldom exceeded a stroll, but it was a fact that she got things done. In her own way she worked as hard as he did.

One hot morning at the end of August she discovered that she didn't have enough flour to do the day's cooking. Reese had already left for the day and wouldn't be coming back for lunch, so she ran upstairs and got ready. It was almost time they replenished their supplies anyway, so she carried the grocery list with her. It would save an extra trip if she did all the shopping while she was in town.

She loved listening to Floris, so she stopped by the café and had coffee and pie. After Floris had sent her only other customer stomping out in anger, she came over to Madelyn's booth and sat down.

“Where's that man of yours today?”

“Out on the range. I ran out of flour and came in to stock up.”

Floris nodded approvingly, though her sour face never lightened. “That first wife of his never bought no groceries. Don't guess she knew nothing about cooking, though of course Reese had a cook hired back then. It's a shame what happened to that ranch. It used to be a fine operation.”

“It will be again,” Madelyn said with confidence. “Reese is working hard to build it back up.”

“One thing about him, he's never been afraid of work. Not like some men around here.” Floris glared at the door as if she could still see the cowboy who had just left.

After talking with Floris, Glenna's cheerfulness was almost culture shock. They chatted for a while; then Madelyn loaded the groceries into the station wagon and drove back to the ranch. It wasn't quite noon, so she would have plenty of time to cook the cake she'd planned.

To her surprise, Reese's truck was in the yard when she drove up. He was coming around from the back of the house carrying a bucket of water, but when he saw her, he changed direction and stalked over, his face dark with temper and his eyes shooting green sparks. “Where in hell have you been?” he roared.

She didn't like his manner, but she answered his question in a reasonable tone. “I didn't have enough flour to do the cooking today, so I drove to Crook and bought groceries.”

“Damn it, don't you ever go off without telling me where you're going!”

She retained her reasonableness, but it was becoming a strain. “How could I tell you when you weren't here?”

“You could have left a note.”

“Why would I leave a note when you weren't supposed to be back for lunch, and I'd be back long before you? Why
are
you back?”

“One of the hoses sprang a leak. I came back to put a new hose on.” For whatever reason, he wasn't in a mood to let it go. “If I hadn't, I wouldn't have found
out you've started running around the country on your own, would I? How long has this been going on?”

“Buying food? Several centuries, I'd say.”

Very carefully he put the bucket down. As he straightened, Madelyn saw his eyes; he wasn't just angry or aggravated, he was in a rage. He hadn't been this angry before, even over painting the house. With his teeth clenched he said, “You dressed like that to buy groceries?”

She looked down at her clothes. She wore a slim pink skirt that ended just above her knees and a white silk blouse with the sleeves rolled up. Her legs were bare, and she had on sandals. “Yes, I dressed like this to buy groceries! It's hot, in case you haven't noticed. I didn't want to wear jeans, I wanted to wear a skirt, because it's cooler.”

“Did you get a kick out of men looking at your legs?”

“As far as I noticed, no one looked at my legs. I told you once that I won't pay for April's sins, and I meant it. Now, if you don't mind, I need to get the groceries into the house.”

He caught her arm as she turned away and whirled her back around to face him. “Don't walk away when I'm talking to you.”

“Well excuse me, Your Majesty!”

He grabbed her other arm and held her in front of him. “If you want to go to town, I'll take you,” he said in an iron-hard voice. “Otherwise, you keep your little butt here on the ranch, and don't you ever,
ever,
leave the house without letting me know where you are.”

She went up on tiptoe, so angry she was shaking. “Let me tell you a few things, and you'd better listen. I'm your wife, not your prisoner of war. I won't ask your permission to buy groceries, and I won't be kept
locked up here like some criminal. If you take the keys to the car or do something to it so it won't run, then I'll walk wherever I want to go, and you can bet the farm on that. I'm not April, do you understand?
I'm not April
.”

He released her arms, and they stood frozen, neither of them giving an inch. Very deliberately Madelyn bent down and lifted the bucket of water, then upended it over him. The water splashed on his head and shoulders and ran down his torso, to finally end up pooling around his boots.

“If that isn't enough to cool you off, I can get another one,” she offered in an icily polite tone.

His movements were just as deliberate as hers as he removed his hat and slapped it against his leg to rid it of excess water, then dropped it to the ground. She saw his teeth clench; then he moved like a snake striking, his hands darting out to grasp her around the waist. With one swift movement he lifted her and plonked her down on the front fender of the car.

His hands were flexing on her waist; his forearms were trembling with the force it took to restrain his temper. His dark hair was plastered to his skull; water still dripped down his face, and his eyes were pure green fire.

His dilemma nearly tore him apart. He was trembling with rage, but there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. His wife didn't back down from anyone, not even him, and he'd cut off his own hands before he would do anything to hurt her. All he could do was stand there and try to get his temper back under control.

They faced each other in silence for nearly a minute, with him still holding her on the fender of the car. She tilted her chin, her eyes daring him to start the fight again. He looked down at her legs, and a shudder ran
through him. When he looked back up at her, it wasn't rage in his eyes.

Green eyes locked with gray. He hooked his fingers in the hem of her skirt and jerked it upward, at the same time spreading her legs and moving forward between them. She sank her hands into his wet hair and held his head while her mouth attacked his with a fierce kiss that held mingled anger and desire. He said, “Maddie,” in a rough tone as he tore her underpants out of the way, then jerked at his belt and the fastening of his jeans.

It was just as it had been in the back of the truck. The rush of passion was hard and fast and overwhelming. With one hand he guided himself, while the other propelled her hips forward onto him. She moaned and wrapped her legs around him, then held his head so that their eyes met again. “I love you,” she said fiercely. “I love you, damn it.”

The words hit him like a thunderbolt, but her eyes were clear and direct, and he was losing himself in her depths. What had begun wild suddenly turned slow and hot and tender. He put his hand in her hair and tugged her head back to expose the graceful arch of her throat to his searching mouth. He began moving within her, probing deep and slow, and he said, “Maddie,” again, this time in a voice that shook.

She was like fire, and she was all his. She burned for him and with him, her intense sensuality matching his. They clung together, savoring the hot rise of passion and the erotic strokes that fed it and would eventually extinguish it, but not now. Not right now.

He unbuttoned her blouse while she performed the same service for his shirt. When he had unclipped her bra he slowly brought their bare torsos together, turning her slightly from side to side so that her breasts rubbed
his chest and his curly hair rasped against her nipples, making her arch in his arms.

“God, I can't get enough of you,” he muttered.

“I don't want you to.” Passion had glazed her eyes, making them heavy and slumberous. He took her mouth again, and he was still kissing her when she cried out and convulsed in a crest of pleasure. He held himself deep within her, feeling the hot, gentle tightening of her inner caresses around him. He would never find this kind of overwhelming passion with any other woman, he thought dimly. Only with Maddie.

Release left her weak, pliable. She lay back across the hood of the car, breathing hard, her eyes closed. Reese gripped her hips and began thrusting hard and fast, wanting that sweet weakness for himself. Her eyes slowly opened as he drove into her, and she closed her hands around his wrists. “I love you,” she said again.

Until he heard the words once more he hadn't realized how badly he'd needed them, wanted them. She was his, and had been from the moment she'd walked through the airport toward him. He groaned, and his hips jerked; then the pleasure hit him, and he couldn't think for a long time. All he could do was feel, and sink forward onto her soft body and into her arms.

In bed that night, he gently traced his fingertips over the curve of her shoulder. “I'm sorry,” he murmured. “I was out of line today, way out.”

She kissed him drowsily on the jaw. “I think I understand more than before. Did April…?”

“Have other men? Yeah.”

“The fool,” she muttered, sliding her hand down to intimately caress him.

He tilted her head up. “I wasn't a saint, Maddie. I can be hard to live with.”

She widened her eyes mockingly and made a disbelieving sound. He chuckled and then sighed, spreading his legs. What her hand was doing to him felt so good it was almost criminal. She was all woman, and this was going to end up only one way, but he wanted to put it off for a few minutes.

“You're right, I've been trying to keep you a prisoner on the ranch. It won't happen again.”

“I'm not going to run off,” she assured him in a whisper. “I've got what I want right here. And you were right about one thing.”

“What?”

“Making love is one of the best ways to make up.”

R
EESE SOLD THE
beef herd for more than he had anticipated, or even hoped. With cholesterol-consciousness at such a high level he had been working to breed and raise cattle with leaner meat that still remained tender, and all his research was paying off. He made his mortgage payments with grim satisfaction, because he had enough left over to expand the herd come spring and bring in some new blood strains he'd been wanting to try. He'd be able to repair equipment when it needed it, instead of scraping and saving and doing without. He'd even be able to take Madelyn out to eat once in a while. It galled him that the limit of their outside entertainment was an occasional cup of coffee or slice of pie at Floris's café. He wanted to be able to take Madelyn places and spoil her, buy her new clothes and jewelry, all the things he had once taken for granted in his life. The ranch was a long way from being as rich as it had once been, but he was clawing his way back. He'd made a profit, by God! He was in the black.

Madelyn had gone into Billings with him when he conferred with his banker. He'd expected her to want to go shopping; though he realized more every day how different Maddie was from April, he also wryly accepted that his wife was a clotheshorse. The fact that she loved clothes was evident in the way she dressed even while working at the ranch. It might be just jeans
and a shirt, but the jeans would fit her in a way guaranteed to send his blood pressure up, and the shirt would look as stylish as if it had come straight from Paris. What really got to him was the way she would put on one of his white dress shirts, not button
any
of the buttons, and knot the tails at her waist. She wouldn't have a bra on under it, either. It was a style and a provocation that he couldn't resist, and she knew it. First his hand would be inside the shirt; then the shirt would be off; then they would be making love wherever they happened to be.

She did shop, but again she surprised him. She bought underwear and jeans for him; then she was ready to go home. “I don't know how I ever stood a city as large as New York,” she said absently, looking around at the traffic. “This is too noisy.” He was astonished; Billings had less than seventy thousand inhabitants, and barroom brawls were far more the norm than any gang- or drug-related violence. No, Maddie wasn't like April, who had considered Billings nothing more than a backwater crossroads. To April, only cities like New York, London, Paris, Los Angeles and Hong Kong had been sophisticated enough for her enjoyment.

Madelyn was indeed glad to get back to the ranch. She was happiest there, she realized. It was quiet, with the peace that came only from being close to earth and nature. And it was her home now.

It was the middle of the afternoon when they got back, and Reese changed clothes to begin his chores. It was too early to start dinner, so Madelyn went out on the porch and sat in the swing. It was early autumn, and already the heat was leaving the day. Reese said it wasn't unusual to have snow in October, so the days when she would be able to sit out on the porch were lim
ited. Still, she was looking forward to the winter, hard as it might be. The days would be short and the nights long, and she smiled as she thought of those long nights.

Reese came back downstairs from changing his clothes and found her there. The chores would wait a little while, he thought, and joined her on the swing. He put his arm around her and brought her closer, so that her head was nestled in the hollow of his shoulder.

“I was just thinking,” she said, “it'll be winter soon.”

“Sooner than you think.”

“Christmas isn't that far away now. Could I invite Robert?”

“Of course. He's your family.”

She smiled. “I know, but the warmth between you at our wedding wasn't exactly overwhelming.”

“What did you expect, given the circumstances? Men are territorial. He didn't want to give you up, and I was determined to have you come hell or high water.” He nudged her chin up with his thumb and gave her a slow kiss. “And I was a stranger who was going to be taking his sister to bed that night.”

For a moment there was only the creaking of the swing. He kissed her again, then just held her. He hadn't known marriage could be like this, he thought with vague surprise. Both passion and contentment.

He said quietly, “Let's have a baby.”

After a pause she said, “I'll stop taking the Pill.” Then she reached for his hand and cradled it to her face.

The tenderness of the gesture was almost painful. He lifted her up and settled her astride his lap so he could see her expression. “Is that what you want?”

Her face looked as if it had been lit from within. “You know it is.” She leaned forward and brushed his lips with hers, then suddenly laughed and threw her
arms around his neck, fiercely hugging him. “Are there any twins in your family?”

“No!” he said explosively, then drew back and gave her a suspicious look. “Are there in yours?”

“Actually, yes. Grandma Lily was a twin.”

Even the thought of twins was too much. He shook his head, denying the possibility. “Just one at a time, gal. No doubling up.” He rubbed his hands up her thighs and under her skirt, then slid them inside her underpants to cup her bare buttocks. “You might be pregnant by Christmas.”

“Umm, I'd like that.”

His eyes glinted at her. “I'll do my best.”

“But it'll probably take longer than that.”

“Then I'll just have to try harder.”

Her lips quirked. “I can't lose,” she said in contentment.

T
HE FIRST SNOW
did come in October, three inches of fine, dry powder. She learned that snow didn't stop a rancher's work, it only intensified it, though three inches was nothing to worry about. In the dead of winter Reese would have to carry hay to the cattle and break the ice in the stock ponds so they could drink. He'd have to find lost calves before they froze to death and move the herd to more sheltered areas during the worst weather.

For the first time, winter began to worry her. “What if there are blizzard conditions?” she asked him one night.

“Then I hope for the best,” he said flatly. “I'll lose some calves during any bad snowstorm, but if it doesn't last too long the biggest part of the herd will weather it. The danger is if blizzard conditions or extreme cold
last for several days. Then the cattle start freezing to death, and during a blizzard I can't get feed out to them. I have hooks attached to the barn and the house. When it looks like a bad storm, I run a static line between them and hook myself to it so I can get back and forth to the barn.”

She stared at him, appalled at the years he'd coped by himself and the danger he'd been in. It was testimony to his strength and intelligence that he was still alive, and characteristic of his stubbornness that he'd even tried.

The preparations for winter were ongoing and not to be taken lightly. He moved the herd to the closer pastures where they would winter. Cords of firewood were stacked close to the back door, and the pantry was well stocked with candles and batteries, while he cleaned and tested two big kerosene heaters in case they were needed. The truck and car were both filled with new antifreeze and given new batteries, and he began parking them in the garage to keep them out of the wind. During October the temperature steadily slipped lower, until the only time it was above freezing was at high noon.

“Does it stay below freezing for six months?” she asked, and he laughed.

“No. We'll have cold spells and warm spells. It may be sixty degrees or higher in January, but if we get blizzard conditions or a deep freeze the temperatures can go way below zero. We prepare for a blizzard and hope for the sixty degrees.”

As if to bear him out, the weather then showed a warming trend and inched the temperatures upward into the fifties during the day. Madelyn felt more confident, because he'd been making preparations as if they were going into six months of darkness. That was how he'd made it by himself for seven years, by being
cautious and prepared for anything. Still, by his own admission the winters could be hell. She would just have to make certain he didn't take any chances with his own safety.

Robert flew in the day before Christmas and spent three days with them. When he first saw Madelyn he gave her a hard, searching look, but whatever he saw must have reassured him, because he relaxed then and was an affable guest. She was amused at the way Reese and Robert related to each other, since they were so much alike, both very private and strong men. Their conversation consisted of sentence fragments, as if they were just throwing out random comments, but they both seemed comfortable with it. She was amazed at how much alike they were in manner, too. Robert was smoothly cosmopolitan, yet Reese's mannerisms were much like his, illustrating how prosperous the ranch had been before the divorce. They differed only in that she had never seen Robert lose his temper, while Reese's temper was like a volcano.

Robert was surprisingly interested in the working of the ranch and rode out with Reese every day he was there. They spent a lot of time talking about futures and stock options, the ratio of feed to pound of beef, interest rates, inflation and government subsidies. Robert looked thoughtful a lot, as if he were weighing everything Reese said.

The day before he left, Robert approached Madelyn. She was sprawled bonelessly across a big armchair, listening to the stereo with her eyes closed and one foot keeping time to the music. He said in amusement, “Never run if you can walk, never walk if you can stand, never stand if you can sit, and never sit if you can lie.”

“Never talk if you can listen,” Madelyn added without opening her eyes.

“Then you listen, and I'll talk.”

“This sounds serious. Are you going to tell me you're in love with someone and are thinking of marriage?”

“Good God, no,” he said, his amusement deepening.

“Is there a new woman on the horizon?”

“A bit closer than that.”

“Why didn't you bring her? Is it anyone I know?”

“This is a family Christmas,” he replied, telling her with that one short sentence that his new lover hadn't touched him any deeper than any of the others. “Her name is Natalie VanWein.”

“Nope. I don't know her.”

“You're supposed to listen while I talk, not ask questions about my love life.” He drew up a hassock and sat down on it, smiling a little as he noticed that she hadn't even opened her eyes during their conversation.

“So talk.”

“I've never met anyone with a clearer head for business than Reese—excepting myself, of course,” he said mockingly.

“Oh, of course.”

“Listen, don't talk. He sees what has to be done and he does it, without regard to obstacles. He has the kind of determination that won't give up, no matter what the odds. He'll make a go of this ranch. He'll fight like hell until he has it the way it used to be.”

Madelyn opened one eye. “And the point of this is?”

“I'm a businessman. He strikes me as a better risk than a lot of ventures I've bet on. He doesn't have to wait to build this place up. He could accept an investor and start right now.”

“The investor, of course, being yurself.”

He nodded. “I look for a profit. He'd make one. I want to invest in it personally, without involving Cannon Companies.”

“Have you already talked to him about it?”

“I wanted to talk to you first. You're his wife, you know him better than I do. Would he go for it, or would I be wasting my time?”

“Well, I won't give you an opinion either way. You're on your own. Like you said, he knows the business, so let him make up his own mind without having to consider anything I might have said either pro or con.”

“It's your home, too.”

“I'm still learning to help, but I don't know enough about the business of ranching to even begin to make an educated decision. And when it comes down to it, my home is based on my marriage, not where we live. We could live anywhere and I'd be content.”

He looked down at her, and a strangely tender look entered his pale eyes. “You're really in love with him, aren't you?”

“I have been from the beginning. I never would have married him otherwise.”

He examined her face closely, in much the same way he'd looked at her when he had first arrived, as if satisfying himself of the truth of her answer. Then he gave a brusque nod and got to his feet. “Then I'll put the proposition to Reese and see what he thinks.”

Reese turned it down, as Madelyn had expected he would. The ranch was his; it might take longer and be a harder fight to do it on his own, but every tree and every speck of dirt on the ranch belonged to him, and he refused to risk even one square inch of it with an outside investor. Robert took the refusal in good humor,
because business was business, and his emotions were never involved any more than they were with women.

Reese talked to her about it that night, lying in the darkness with her head pillowed on his shoulder. “Robert made me an offer today. If I took him as an investor, I could double the ranch's operation, hire enough hands to work it and probably get back most of the former acreage within five years.”

“I know. He talked to me about it, too.”

He stiffened. “What did you tell him?”

“To talk to you. It's your ranch, and you know more about running it than anyone else.”

“Would you rather I took his offer?”

“Why should I care?”

“Money,” he said succinctly.

“I'm not doing without anything.” Her voice had a warm, amused tone to it.

“You could have a lot more.”

“I could have a lot less, too. I'm happy, Reese. If you took the offer I'd still be happy, and I'll still be happy if you don't take it.”