Rawhide and Lace (19 page)

"You're walking much better these days," he observed. He leaned back against the sofa with his coffee cup in hand.

"I've been working hard," she replied.

"Quite a change from those first few days here."

She moved her shoulders restlessly. "Yes. Quite a change."

He sipped his coffee quietly. "Want to give out the presents?"

"Okay." She got up, faltering a little as she knelt. She heard him behind her, calling to Jose and Conchita.

They came in, grinning, took their presents and gave small ones to Ty and Erin. Then everyone opened their gift boxes and exclaimed over the contents. Erin found a beautiful shawl that Conchita had hand-crocheted for her and Ty, a muffler. Conchita opened a set of handkerchiefs from Ty and a small silver box from Erin, and Jose got a tie and a wallet.

"Muchas gracias." Conchita grinned. "Now is okay if we go over to my sister's house, just for a little while, until time to serve the dinner?"

"Sure," Ty told her. "Go ahead."

"We come back soon." She laughed. "Thank you for these," she added, clutching her presents, and Jose echoed her thanks. Then they left, closing the door behind them. And Erin and Ty were alone, completely alone, for the first time since the day they'd bought the tree.

Chapter Ten

Erin finished her coffee nervously, wishing that she and Ty could go back to the early days of her residence here and recapture the budding magic of being together. There seemed to be such an insurmountable barrier between them now. He was always on the defensive-perhaps out of his own guilt-and she couldn't reach him anymore.

He seemed to be nervous himself, if his chain-smoking was any indication of it. He moved restlessly to the tree, picked up her present and handed it to her.

"We might as well get this out of the way," he said gruffly, pausing to pick up the box with his own name on it.

Erin, sitting quietly with her present beside her on the sofa, felt really uncomfortable as she watched him open it. What was he going to think of the ring? Would he be angry? Would he be surprised?

He removed the wrapping and looked inside at the smaller box. Glancing curiously at her, he picked it up, slowly unwrapped it and then opened it.

His expression was one of numb shock, and Erin wanted to go through the floor.

She got up and knelt a little awkwardly beside him. "I'm sorry," she said, reaching for the box. "It was a stupid thing to do. I didn't mean-"

He caught her wrist. "Here," he said in an odd, gruff tone. "Put it on."

It took a moment for her to realize that he wanted her to put it on his finger. She fumbled it out of the box nervously and slid it onto his ring finger, relieved to find that it was a perfect fit.

He looked up then, his eyes strange and glittering, holding hers.

"You don't...mind?" she faltered.

He put his hands on either side of her face, searching her fascinated eyes, and bent over her. His mouth descended, pressing her lips softly apart, shocking her with the aching tenderness of his kiss.

Tears stung her eyes as she closed them. It had been so long since he'd touched her, since he'd kissed her. She caught her breath as he deliberately deepened the kiss, tilting her face at a sharper angle to give himself better access to her soft mouth.

She wanted to reach up, to hold him to her and savor the sweetness of being near him at last. But it was too soon; there had been so many misunderstandings between them, so much grief. She couldn't be sure he wasn't just trying to find some new way to torment her.

She pulled back gently and lowered her face.

He sensed her withdrawal, and the tenderness he was feeling for her clouded over with pain. She was building a wall of her own now, and thanks to his black temper, he wasn't going to get past it easily.

"Thank you," he said. He wanted to add that he wouldn't take the ring off until he died, that it would always remind him of her.

"You're welcome," she said shyly. "I...bought it the day we went to San Antonio."

He remembered that day all too well; it had haunted him ever since. His face went hard with bitter regret. "What did you buy it with?" he asked suddenly. "You wouldn't let me stake you."

She shifted a little, tugging at the skirt of her dress. "I...had a little money saved."

He looked down at the ring. Diamonds. Real ones, set in gold. "My God," he said under his breath. His eyes met hers and saw the embarrassment there. "This was expensive."

She only looked more uncomfortable.

He sighed as he looked at the box he had wrapped for her. It was nowhere near as expensive as her gift to him. He hadn't known how she'd feel about a ring now, so he'd taken back the ring he'd bought her before all the difficulties began and traded it for an emerald necklace-a very small emerald, with a few tiny diamonds, on a slender gold chain. It had reminded him of her-bright and delicate and beautiful.

"I wish I'd taken more trouble over yours," he said hesitantly.

"I'll like it," she assured him.

He handed her the package and she opened it, finding that he had indeed duplicated her camouflage. She opened the first box, then the second, and caught her breath at the sight of the exquisitely crafted necklace nestled in the velvet lining of the box.

"Oh, it's so lovely," she whispered, touching it. "It's the loveliest thing I've ever seen!"

She took it out gently, fingering it, her face bright with pleasure, and he forgave himself for not having gotten her something more expensive. She seemed to be genuinely pleased with it.

She laced it around her neck and secured it, lovingly touching the stone as she smiled. "Thank you," she said softly, her voice tender and husky, her face so beautiful that he wanted to take her in his arms and lower her to the carpet in a fever of passion.

Her eyes caught the flash of desire in his, and she hesitated about touching him. But in the end, her pleasure at his gift forced her forward. Shyly, she reached up and kissed the corner of his mouth, just faintly brushing it.

"Thank you so much, Ty," she whispered.

He stiffened at the touch of her lips, trying not to betray how vulnerable he felt when she came close. Her gentle rejection of him earlier had hurt. He didn't want to risk it a second time, so he didn't touch her. When her lips moved away, he just looked at her, noticing the heavy shadows under her green eyes, the paleness of her face. She was beautiful, but there was a haunting sadness about her, a sadness he felt responsible for. He felt responsible for a lot of things. His conscience had disturbed him for days, for weeks. She might forgive him someday, but he couldn't forgive himself. And his growing feeling for her had only made it worse, had only deepened his guilt. He'd struck out at her in pain, but she couldn't know that. And he was too proud to tell her.

"I'm glad you like it," he said, rising. He moved away from her, pacing restlessly.

"The financial situation," she said after a minute. "Is it any better?"

His broad shoulders lifted and fell as he felt for a cigarette and lit it. "Not appreciably."

She bit her lower lip, thinking. She was walking much better now. And the more she exercised, the better she got. Before long, she'd be walking easily. The facial scars were fading, too. She was a new woman already. And she had talent, and the contacts to go back into modeling. Perhaps she could make enough money to help him out.

She sat back down on the sofa. "I've been thinking," she said hesitantly, glancing at him. "I'm improving every day. In a little while, I might be well enough to go back to New York and get back on with my agency."

His back went ramrod stiff. So here it was-she was feeling her beauty again. She was missing the old life, and she wanted to leave. She was hungry for-how had she put it?-the bright lights and the excitement. And maybe for a man whose face didn't look like the side of a cliff. He laughed bitterly to himself. At least he had no illusions about her feelings for him. He hadn't fooled himself into thinking that just because she responded to him physically, she felt anything emotionally.

"If that's what you want, go ahead," he said carelessly. "It might be a good idea, after all."

She'd known he was going to say that. Even so, his saying it gave her a sinking feeling, and she struggled to speak normally. "I can't go immediately, of course. I'll need a little more time."

"Wait until spring, if you like." He sounded indifferent, but the silvery eyes she couldn't see were telling a different story.

"No, I won't need that long," she said quickly. "I'll just take another few weeks."

"Suit yourself." He took a long draw from his cigarette and studied the ring she'd put on his finger. He loved the feel of it, the symbolism of it. When she'd bought it, she must have felt something tender for him, at least. The memory of it would have to last him all his life, through all the years without her, without his love.

He thought about the child she'd lost, and his eyes darkened with pain. She'd felt alone, she said, and empty. And he remembered that, and ached to think of her with no one to look after her, to care for her. She'd been all by herself in that hospital, and he wondered.

He turned unexpectedly and saw her watching him. "You wanted to die, didn't you?" he asked gruffly.

She blinked. "What?"

"After the accident." He held the forgotten cigarette carelessly in one lean hand. "You wanted to die."

How had he known that? She hated discussing it. Every time they talked about it, he got worse, more distant, more unapproachable.

"I thought my life was over," she said slowly. "I suppose, for just a little while, I didn't care about living-"

He examined her carefully, noticing the becoming weight gain, the silkiness of her hair, the brightness of her eyes. "I guess you damned me to hell every time you thought about me," he murmured.

"I wanted to call you," she confessed, flushing.

He didn't move. He didn't breathe. "You...what?"

"I wanted to call you. I almost did." She searched his narrow eyes quietly. "But Bruce convinced me that you had no use for me, that you wouldn't have spoken to me anyway," she said. Her eyes darkened with remembered pain.

"I would have come, though," he said.

She tried to smile. "I think I realized that before, but it was nice to hear it, all the same. It feels so terrible now. I hated you for all the wrong reasons, for things that Bruce was responsible for. But I believed him, you see."

"I guess you had enough reason not to question what Bruce told you," he replied, his voice deep. "I'd been unspeakably cruel to you."

She searched his face. He had such a poor opinion of himself; how could she tell him that she thought he was the sexiest man alive, and that she grew as shy as a schoolgirl every time she was near him?

"Why?" she asked gently. "Was it really just because you wanted me?"

"What other reason could there have been?" he countered brusquely, drawing away.

Once, she thought wistfully. Just once to shake him out of his brooding, to unsettle him. She wondered what he'd do if she peeled open her bodice and let him look at her.

He walked to the door, touched the doorknob and hesitated. "I've got a new colt in the barn," he said with his back to her. "Want to come look at him?"

The invitation was unexpected, and it thrilled her. She smiled shyly. "I'd like that, yes."