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Authors: Linda Howard

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He opened the barn door. “My parents died within a year of each other. I don't think they could exist apart.”

The rich, earthy smell of an occupied barn enveloped her, and she took a deep breath. The odors of animals, leather, manure, hay and feed all mixed into that one unmistakable scent. She found it much more pleasant than the smell of exhaust.

The barn was huge. She had noticed a stable beside it, also empty, as well as a machinery shed and a hay shed. Everything about the ranch shouted that this had once been a very prosperous holding, but Reese had evidently fallen on hard times. How that must grate on a man with his obvious pride. She wanted to put her hand in his and tell him that it didn't matter, but she had the feeling he would reject the gesture. The pride that kept him working this huge place alone wouldn't allow him to accept anything he could interpret as pity.

She didn't know what chores needed doing or how to do them, so she tried to stay out of his way and simply watch, noting the meticulous attention he paid to everything he did. He cleaned out stalls and put down fresh
hay, his powerful arms and back flowing with muscles. He put feed in the troughs, checked and repaired tack, brought in fresh water. Three horses were in a corral between the barn and stable; he checked and cleaned their hooves, brought them in to feed and water them, then put them in their stalls for the night. He called a ridiculously docile cow to him and put her in a stall, where she munched contentedly while he milked her. With a bucket half full of hot, foaming milk, he went back to the house, and two cats appeared to meow imperiously at him as they scented the milk. “Scat,” he said. “Go catch a mouse.”

Madelyn knew what to do now. She got the sterilized jugs she had noticed on her first trip through the kitchen and found a straining cloth. He gave her a strange look as she held the straining cloth over the mouth of the jug for him to pour the milk through. “Grandma Lily used to do this,” she said in a blissful tone. “I was never strong enough to hold the bucket and pour, but I knew I'd be an adult the day she let me pour out the milk.”

“Did you ever get to pour it?”

“No. She sold the cow the summer before I started school. She just had the one cow, for fresh milk, but the area was already building up and becoming less rural, so she got rid of it.”

He set the bucket down and took the straining cloth. “Then here's your chance for adulthood. Pour.”

A whimsical smile touched her lips as she lifted the bucket and carefully poured the creamy white liquid through the cloth into the jug. The warm, sweet scent filled the kitchen. When the bucket was empty she set it aside and said, “Thank you. As a rite of passage, that beats the socks off of getting my driver's license.”

This time it happened. Reese's eyes crinkled, and his lips moved in a little half grin. Madelyn felt more of that inner shifting and settling, and knew that she was lost.

CHAPTER THREE

“T
HERE ISN'T MUCH
nightlife around, but there is a beer joint and café about twenty miles from here if you'd like to go dancing.”

Madelyn hesitated. “Would you mind very much if we just stayed here? You must be tired, and I know I am. I'd rather put my feet up and relax.”

Reese was silent. He hadn't expected her to refuse, and though he was tired, he'd been looking forward to holding her while they danced. Not only that, having people around them would dilute his focus on her, ease the strain of being alone with her. She wasn't right for him, damn it.

On the other hand, he'd been up since four that morning, and relaxing at home sounded like heaven. The hard part would be relaxing with her anywhere around.

“We could play Monopoly. I saw a game in the bookcase,” she said. “Or cards. I know how to play poker, blackjack, spades, hearts, rummy, Shanghai, Spite and Malice, Old Maid and Go Fish.”

He gave her a sharp glance at that improbable list. She looked as innocent as an angel. “I lost my Old Maid cards, but we can play rummy.”

“Jokers, two-eyed jacks, threes, fives, sevens and Rachel are wild,” she said promptly.

“On the other hand, there's a baseball game on television tonight. What the hell is a rachel?”

“It's the queen of diamonds. They have names, you know.”

“No, I didn't know. Are you making that up?”

“Nope. Rachel is the queen of diamonds, Palas is the queen of spades, Judith is the queen of hearts, and Argine is the queen of clubs.”

“Do the kings and jacks have names?”

“I don't know. That little bit of information has never come my way.”

He eyed her again, then leaned back on the couch and propped his boots on the coffee table. She saw a hint of green gleam in his eyes as he said, “The little plastic doohickey on the end of your shoelaces is called an aglet.”

She mimicked his position, her lips quirking with suppressed laughter. “The dimple in the bottom of a champagne bottle is called a punt.”

“The empty space between the bottle top and the liquid is called ullage.”

“A newly formed embryo is called a zygote.”

“Bird's nest soup is made from the nests of swiftlets, which make the nests by secreting a glutinous substance from under their tongues.”

Madelyn's eyes rounded with fascination, but she rose to the challenge. “Pink flamingos are pink because they eat so many shrimp.”

“It takes light from the sun eight minutes and twenty seconds to reach earth.”

“The common housefly flies at the speed of five miles an hour.”

“An ant can lift fifty times its own weight.”

She paused and eyed him consideringly. “Were you lying about the bird nests?”

He shook his head. “Are you giving up?”

“Never use all your ammunition in the opening salvo.”

There wouldn't be much opportunity for follow-up salvos, he thought. In about eighteen hours he'd be putting her on a plane back to New York and they would never meet again.

The silence that fell between them was a little awkward. Madelyn got up and smiled at him. “I'll leave you to your baseball game, if you don't mind. I want to sit on the porch swing and listen to the frogs and crickets.”

Reese watched her as she left the room, her hips rolling in a lazy sway. After a minute he heard the squeak of the chains as she sat down in the swing; then the creaking as she began pushing it back and forth. He turned on the television and actually watched a little of the ball game, but his mind was on the rhythmic creaking. He turned the television off.

Madelyn had been swinging and dreaming, her eyes closed, but she opened them when she heard the screen door open and close, then his boots on the wooden porch. He stopped a few feet away and leaned his shoulder against one of the posts.

His lighter flared; then the end of the cigarette glowed as it began to burn. Madelyn stared at his dim figure, wishing she had the right to get up and go to him, to slide her arms around his waist and rest her head on his shoulder. When he didn't speak, she closed her eyes again and began drifting in the peaceful darkness. The late spring night was comfortable, and the night creatures were going about their business as usual. This
was the type of life she wanted, a life close to the earth, where serenity could be drawn from nature.

“Why did you answer the ad?”

His rough-textured voice was quiet, not disturbing the night. A few seconds passed before Madelyn opened her eyes and answered.

“For much the same reason you placed it, I suppose. Partly out of curiosity, I admit, but I also want to get married and have a family.”

“You don't have to come all the way out here to do that.”

She said, “Maybe I do,” and was completely serious.

“You don't have any boyfriends in New York?”

“I have friends, yes, but no one I'm serious about, no one I'd want to marry. And I don't think I want to live in New York. This place is wonderful.”

“You've only seen it at its best. Winter is frozen hell. Every place has its drawbacks.”

“And its advantages. If you didn't think the positives outweighed the negatives, you wouldn't be here.”

“I grew up here. This is my home. The Eskimos are attached to their homes, too, but I wouldn't live there.”

Madelyn turned her head and looked out into the night, sensing what was coming and wishing, praying, that he wouldn't say it. She could tell from the way he'd been throwing up those subtle obstacles and objections what he was going to say.

“Madelyn. You don't fit in out here.”

Her right foot kept up the slow, steady rhythm of the swing. “So the visit has been a failure?”

“Yes.”

“Even though you're attracted to me?” In the darkness she could be bolder than she would have been oth
erwise. If faint heart ne'er won fair lady, she was sure that the fair lady ne'er won with a faint heart, either.

“The spark goes both ways.” He stubbed out the cigarette on his boot heel and flipped it out into the yard.

“Yes. So why am I unsuitable for your purposes?”

“You're real suitable for the purposes of bed,” he said grimly. “I'd like to take you there right now. But out of bed—no. You won't do at all.”

“Please explain. I like to understand my rejections.”

Suddenly he moved away from the post and sat next to her on the swing, setting it to dipping and swaying with his weight. One firmly planted boot took control of the motion and began the gentle rocking movement again.

“I was married before, for two years. You're like my first wife in a lot of ways. She was a city person. She liked the entertainment and variety of a big city. She'd never been on a ranch before, and thought it was romantic, just like a movie—until she realized that most of a rancher's time is spent working, instead of having a good time. She was already restless before winter came, and that just put the frosting on the cake. Our second year was pure hell.”

“Don't judge me by someone else, Reese Duncan. Just because one woman didn't like it, doesn't mean another won't.”

“A man who doesn't learn from his mistakes is a damn fool. When I marry again, it'll be to a woman who knows what ranch life is like, who'll be able to work with me. I won't risk the ranch again.”

“What do you mean?”

“This ranch was once one of the biggest and best. You can tell by looking around you that it used to be a lot more than what it is now. I had the two best breed
ing bulls in four states, a good insemination program going, over four thousand head of beef, and fifty people working for me. Then I got divorced.” He lifted his arm and rested it along the back of the swing. She could see only his profile, but even in the darkness she could make out the bitter line of his mouth, hear his bitterness in his voice. “April's family had a lot of influence with the judge. He agreed that two years as my wife entitled her to half of my assets, but she sweetly decided that a lump sum settlement would do just fine, thank you. I nearly went bankrupt. I had to liquidate almost everything to buy her off. I sold land that had been in my family for over a hundred years. That was seven years ago. I've been working my ass off since then just trying to keep this place going, and this year it looks like I'll finally make a profit again. I want kids, someone to leave the ranch to, but this time I'll make a better choice of woman.”

She was appalled at the cause of his circumstances, but still said tartly, “What about love? How does that fit into your plans?”

“It doesn't,” he replied in a flat tone.

“What if your wife wants more?”

“I don't plan to spin her a pretty story. She'll know where I stand from the first. But I'll be a good husband. I don't stray, or mistreat women. All I ask from a wife is loyalty and competence and the same values I have.”

“And to be ready to stand as a broodmare.”

“That, too,” he agreed.

Disappointment so sharp that it felt like a knife stabbed into her midsection. He was going to marry someone else. She looked away from him and reached deep for the control she needed. “Then I wish you luck.
I hope you have a happy marriage this time. Do you have any more applicants?”

“Two more. If either of them is interested in ranch life, I'll probably ask her to marry me.”

He had it as cut-and-dried as any business deal, which was all it was to him, even though he would be sleeping with his business partner. Madelyn could have cried at such a waste of passion, but she held on to her control. All she could do now was cut her losses and try to forget him, so she wouldn't measure every man she met against him for the rest of her life.

The darkness hid the desolation in her eyes as she said, “A jackrabbit can run as fast as a racehorse—for a short distance, of course.”

He didn't miss a beat. “A group of bears is called a sloth.”

“The Pacific Ocean covers almost sixty-four-million square miles.”

“The safety pin was invented in 1849.”

“No! That long ago? Zippers were invented in 1893, and it's a good thing, because wouldn't you hate to get caught in a safety pin?”

S
HE WAS QUIET
on the drive back to Billings the next morning. The evening had ended well, with the hilarity of their mutual store of odd facts, but the strain had told on her in the form of a sleepless night. She couldn't bear the thought of never seeing him again, but that was the way it was, and she was determined to keep her pain to herself. Nothing would be gained by weeping all over him, which was exactly what she felt like doing.

He looked tired, too, and it was no wonder when she considered how early he'd had to get up for the past two days, and how much driving he'd done. She said,
“I'm sorry you're having to go to so much trouble to take me back.”

He shot her a glance before returning his attention to the road. “You had a wasted trip, too.”

So she was categorized under “Wasted Trip.” She wondered wryly if her other dates had merely been flattering her all these years.

It was only about half an hour before her flight when they reached the airport. He'd timed it nicely, she thought. She wouldn't have to rush, but on the other hand, there wasn't time for a lengthy goodbye, and she was glad. She didn't know how much she could take. “You don't need to park,” she said. “Just let me out.”

He gave her another glance, but this one was strangely angry. He didn't speak, just parked and came around to open the door for her. Quickly she jumped out before he could catch her by the waist and lift her out again.

Reese's mouth had a grim set as he put his hand on the small of her back and walked with her into the terminal. At least the skirt she was wearing today was full enough that she could move freely, but the way it swung around her legs was just as maddening, in a different way, as that tight white skirt had been. He kept thinking that this one would be even easier to push up out of the way.

Her flight was just being called when they reached the gate. She turned with a smile that cost more than she could afford and held out her hand. “Goodbye, Reese. I wish you luck.”

He took her hand, feeling the smooth texture of her fingers in contrast to his hardened, callused palm. She would be that smooth and silky all over, and that was why he was sending her away. He saw her wide, soft
lips part as she started to say something else, and hunger rose up in him like a tidal wave, crashing over barriers and sweeping everything away.

“I have to taste you,” he said in a low, harsh tone, carrying her hand upward to tuck it around his neck. “Just once.” His other arm circled her waist and pulled her to him as he bent his head.

It wasn't a polite goodbye kiss. It was hard and deep. His mouth was hot and wild, with the taste of tobacco and himself. Madelyn put her other arm around his neck and hung on, because her legs had gone watery. The force of his mouth opened hers, and he took her with his tongue. He held her to him with painful pressure, crushing her breasts against him and cradling her pelvis against the hard, aching ridge of his manhood.

Vaguely she heard other people around them. It didn't matter. He was making love to her with his mouth, arousing her, satisfying her, consuming her. He increased the slant of his head, tucking her head more firmly into his shoulder, and kissed her with all the burning sensuality she had sensed in him on first sight.

Her heart lurched as pleasure overrode shock, swiftly escalating to an almost unbearable tension. She not only welcomed the intrusion of his tongue, she met it with her own, making love to him as surely as he was to her. He shuddered, and for a second his arms tightened so fiercely that she moaned into his mouth. Instantly they loosened, and he lifted his head.

BOOK: Duncan's Bride
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