Rawhide and Lace (11 page)

"After the wreck, yes," she confessed, and he flinched. "Ty-"

"It must have been damned painful," he said under his breath, still staring at the scars. "And with no one to look after you, care about you. God!"

He jerked up from the bed and turned away, his hands rammed into his pockets, the gloves forgotten on the coverlet. His back was ramrod stiff, and there was something disturbing in his stance.

She was just beginning to understand him. It wasn't that he didn't feel anything. He'd just grown adept at hiding his feelings. She remembered what he'd told her about having two strikes against him with women, and she imagined he'd been taunted all his life about his lack of looks. She grimaced at the pain she felt emanating from him.

It was just too much. Her own pain forgotten, she got out of bed and went to him. Talking wouldn't help, she knew that instinctively. So she went in front of him and slid her arms around his hard waist and pressed against him inside his coat.

He shuddered wildly for an instant. His hands caught her shoulders roughly and hesitated, as if he were thinking about pushing her away. And then the feel of her got through to him, the soft warmth pressed so close to his heart, the scent of her rising into his nostrils.

His hands flattened on her shoulder blades, savoring the feel of her. And he let her come close, let her hold him. His head bent over hers, his cheek finally resting against her hair with a long, aching sigh.

"You're very human after all, aren't you?" she asked softly, her eyes closed as she held him. "You lock it all up inside you and keep people from seeing, but things hurt you just as much as they hurt me. I know you feel bad about what happened, Ty. I'm not bitter anymore. I've stopped hating you for it. Does that help?"

He touched her hair lightly, and his grip didn't slacken one bit. "You see too deeply," he whispered roughly.

"It's like looking in a mirror," she said. "I've done the same thing all my life, too. Locked away the hurts, so no one could see. My father died and my mother started playing the field. One man after another was in and out of her life, and the other kids tormented me with it. You see, their own fathers weren't immune to her. She had affairs with at least two of them."

His hands tightened around her. "I guess it was pretty tough."

"Pure hell." She smiled ruefully. "I grew up near Dallas, remember; I was a small-town Texas girl before I started modeling: Small-town people are the salt of the earth, but they have old-fashioned ideas about morality, and they tend to condemn people who ignore the rules." She nuzzled her cheek against the soft cotton of his shirt, feeling the hard muscle and heartbeat underneath. "I guess that's one reason I never ran around."

He tugged gently on a strand of her hair. "At least not until I came along. I guess your conscience gave you hell about that."

"It did."

"Oddly enough," he said, "I had some problems with my own conscience. The women I'd...known before weren't virgins."

"Incredible, isn't it," she murmured, "that I'd get pregnant the very first time?"

"That's what they say happens to good girls." He stroked her hair. "God, I'm sorry, honey," he said softly. "Sorry I wouldn't listen, sorry I didn't go after you. I started to. And before I could, Bruce moved out and fed me a bunch of lies...."

She lifted her head and looked up at him. "I never told him about us," she said honestly, holding his eyes. "And I certainly never accused you of...of fumbling."

"I should have known that, shouldn't I?" he asked, his voice deep. "After today, anyway."

She frowned slightly. "Why after today?"

He traced her mouth with his finger. "If you were the kind of woman who'd laugh at a man, you'd have done it today. But you didn't. Instead of making fun of me, you took my hand and showed me how to touch you."

She blushed and buried her face in his warm throat.

He laughed softly, enjoying that very feminine reaction to his blatant teasing. He tugged lightly on her hair, savoring its softness. "Men aren't born knowing how to arouse women," he said, gently mocking. "We have to learn. It was exciting, having you show me what you liked. That's never happened for me before."

"Never?" she asked without lifting her head.

"Never. Bruce fed you some bull, too, honey, or haven't you cottoned on to that by now?"

"About your sordid reputation and the harem you kept?" she asked, keeping her red cheeks hidden.

"That's about the size of it," he agreed. "I'm not a virgin, but I've never been much of a rounder. Men who look like I do don't score that often."

That brought her head up, wide green eyes searching his curiously. "What do you mean, men who look like you do? What's wrong with you?"

He cocked his head a little to one side, staring at her. "I'm ugly."

She smiled, completely without malice. "You're sexy, too," she murmured.

His eyebrows shot up. "Me?"

She dropped her eyes to his chest. "And arrogant," she continued. "Bad-tempered. Impatient..."

"You could have stopped at 'sexy'," he said.

She shifted restlessly. "No, I couldn't," she said. "We don't want you to get conceited."

"Hip hurting?" he asked softly.

"Nagging a bit." She peeked up at him. "I'll be your best friend if you'll stop making me do those exercises."

"No deal. You're going to walk again even if I become your worst enemy. Here." He swung her up into his arms without warning and carried her back to bed.

She clung, drowning in the masculine scent of him, the feel of that powerful, lean body. "You're very strong," she murmured absently.

"I don't sit behind a desk and count my money. I work for what I've got." He put her down on the coverlet, and as he rose up, his eyes caressed the curves of her body like seeking hands.

She didn't try to cover herself, although part of one creamy breast was revealed by her disheveled gown. She let him look, glorying unashamed in the pleasure she saw in his silver-gray eyes.

"Have you ever let another man look at you like this?" he asked, his voice deep and faintly cutting.

"No," she said.

"Bruce wanted to, didn't he?" he asked, lifting his eyes to hers. "He wanted that and a hell of a lot more."

"He never got it," she replied, her eyes steady, intent. "I never felt that way about him. He was my friend, until he started wanting more than I could give him. I had no idea he was that obsessed with marrying me until the day after I left here the first time. He...he raved like a lunatic about the way you looked at me," she confided hesitantly. "I tried to tell him that you didn't even like me, but he wouldn't listen." She lowered her eyes. "I'm sorry, if that helps. I wouldn't have caused trouble between you for anything."

"Bruce and I had never been close. We were raised separately and he was six years younger. He always tried to compete with me. He had to have the fastest car, the most expensive clothes, the finest house." He shrugged. "I never cared about those things. I have money, but I'd do as well without it. I'd rather have a good horse and a day's work ahead of me than sit in some damned restaurant putting on airs for other people."

She searched his hard face. "I think I liked that about you most of all, even at first," she said. "You were never a snob. Bruce was."

"I know," he replied slowly.

"Why did he want to cause trouble?" she asked. "He knew you disliked me. Why tell a lot of lies?"

"Because he sensed that there was something under the dislike." He stared down at her. "He knew that I wanted you."

Her heart jumped. "I didn't. Not until that night." She lowered embarrassed eyes to the coverlet. "I'm sorry I disappointed you," she added hesitantly. "I didn't know much."

"You didn't disappoint me," he snapped angrily. "That was all bad temper and Bruce's lies!"

His vehemence startled her. She looked up into blazing silver eyes. "I didn't?" she asked.

"I think you were a hell of a lot more disappointed than I was." He watched her intently. "You got nothing out of it except pain and a baby that I cost you with my black temper."

She shook her head. "The baby wasn't meant to be," she said gently. And she meant it...now. Seeing his guilt had knocked the bitterness out of her once and for all. "You can't spend your whole life blaming yourself for it."

"Can't I?" he asked coldly.

"You'll get married someday," she said, hating the thought even as it was forming. "You'll have other children."

He took a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. "Will I? Sure, maybe I could advertise: Rich man with no looks seeking wife...."

"Don't," she said, grimacing.

"I told you, I'm realistic. No woman is ever going to want me-unless it's for my money. So why not lay it on the line at the outset?" he asked with a mocking smile.

"All right, if you're going to wallow in self-pity, maybe I will, too," she shot back, infuriated with him. "I'm scarred and crippled, and no longer a virgin. So maybe now that I'm independently wealthy, I could use the same kind of ad for myself!"

His face went hard. The cigarette poised in midair, inches away from his lips. "Those scars won't matter to any man who cares about you."

"And how about my scarlet past and my stiff leg?" she continued, sitting up straight. The bodice of her gown was slipping, but she was too angry to notice.

Ty wasn't. "How about your exquisite breasts?" he murmured, watching one that was all but exposed to his hungry gaze.

"Ty!" she gasped, sidetracked by the expression in his face.

"They are exquisite, too," he said softly. "You can't imagine what a hell of a time I'm having trying to stand here and smoke my cigarette. So would you mind pulling that up-" he nodded toward her bodice "-before I come down there and make a grab for you?"

She tugged the strap up again, coloring prettily for what seemed like the tenth time. "Do you really want to make a grab for me, the way I look?"

"Especially the way you look," he replied, lifting the cigarette to his faintly smiling mouth. "I still ache from having to leave you here in the first place. It's a damned good thing Grandy chose that particular time to tell me about the dog."

She glanced toward him and away. "Is it?"

"I'd say so," he replied, staring at her intently. "Considering that you're not on the Pill and I didn't have anything to use."

"I thought men were always prepared."

"Was I prepared the last time?" He laughed roughly. "My God, Erin, do you realize how small Ravine is? There's a lady clerk at the drugstore-Mrs. Blake, whom I've known since I was ten years old-and I can just imagine her expression if I walked up to her to buy something like that, when she knows I'm a bachelor and you're in the house with me."

Her lips parted. "Oh."

"Oh, indeed. No wonder there are so many unplanned pregnancies. Kids these days don't practice restraint, and most boys that age are too damned shy to walk into a drugstore and buy what they need. So they trust it all to luck." He took a long draw from his cigarette. "You and I aren't kids, but we know the consequences all too well now, don't we?"

"I didn't plan to...to do that with you," she faltered, averting her gaze.

"Neither did I. But we were both half-starved for each other, and completely alone, and we knew it. I should have protected you. I did try," he said softly. "But it was too much. It had been such a long time for me, and I'd wanted you until it was just short of obsession."