Taming Talia (13 page)

The door opened. “’Bout time your majesty showed up,” he teased. “Bossie over there has been complaining.”

“Sorry. The stove didn’t want to light this morning.” She smiled up, shyly fluttering her dark lashes. “Besides her name is Daisy, not Bossie.”

“I stand corrected.” He stretched his shoulders. “I’ll dump the wheelbarrow around back and pick up more wood while I’m at it.”

Talia nodded, and without another word, she grabbed the milking stool and bucket, then set about relieving the cow’s distress.

He watched until he heard the milk spurting against the metal bucket, then picked up the barrow’s handles and started rolling it outside.

The air was still brisk and thankfully fresh after the close confines of the stable. Talia seemed reserved. Still put out by about his snooping around, no doubt. If she didn’t get over it, matters between them could grow uncomfortable. He needed her trust if he was going to root out the truth of Montrose’s death. His superior at the agency was anxious to wrap up the case.

Around back, he dumped the manure and picked up a load of firewood. As he was heading back to the front of the stable, he heard a crack, looked up and dodged. A long shard of ice fell, barely missing his shoulder.

Whew! Close call. But on the good side, if ice was starting to fall, the temperature must be warming up.

He met a frowning Talia at the stable door. “I hate to discard all the fresh milk, but it’s more than we can use,” she said.

“I’ll take care of it.” He held out his hand for the bucket. “I still have to throw down fresh straw in the stalls.”

She responded with a quick nod. “I’ll start breakfast, then.”

Jared watched her trudge back to the ranch house. Even bundled with heavy clothing and hampered by snow, her natural grace was evident. Something about her manner worried him. And the edge to her voice. Businesslike but with an underlying current of…what—anger?

Yes. Had to be anger. His careless snooping. Couldn’t undo it. He’d have to seduce her out of her bad mood. He smiled at the thought of bedding her again. Given the weather conditions, what else was there to occupy their time?

His stomach growled, reminding him it was time to finish his morning chores and get back inside. Spreading fresh straw around the stalls, he spoke softly to the two horses. Talia’s dappled mare was a gentle creature and not nearly as restless as Midnight. “Sorry, fella. You wouldn’t like it out there. Maybe the snow will end soon.” The stallion nickered and tossed his head as if he actually understood.

“Okay, Daisy, here’s some fresh straw.” Standing between the milk cow and the rear stable wall, he shook an armful of straw onto the floor. He bent over to even it out a bit, when he heard another cracking sound. More ice falling from the stable roof.

But, startled by the unexpected noise, the cow bellowed and whipped her hindquarters into Jared, knocking him off his feet and into the wall. He crashed to the floor. Gingerly testing his limbs, he found he had a bruised hip but was otherwise okay. “Easy girl. Easy,” he said, intending to get to his feet and out of her way.

But fate—the bitch—had something else in mind.

Before he could scramble to his feet, the cow backed up and stepped on his lower leg, a grazing step, yet a stunning burst of pain shot through his leg as at least one bone splintered. He groaned and nearly passed out. Damned cow had broken his damned leg!

Holy fucking shit! Now the bitch of a cow was going to trample him to death before he could crawl out of her way. Using his forearms and his one good leg, he scooted as fast as he could out of range of her hindquarters and hooves.

He’d crawled only a few feet when the pain forced him to stop. Gasping from the agony of a broken bone, he waited until the pain eased a fraction. He inched into a sitting position with his back against a post, then tried to take stock of his injury. He felt along his calf. Felt the swelling, especially along the outside. As far as he could tell, the big bone in the lower leg was intact. And thank God, the bone wasn’t protruding through the skin. That could mean an amputation at the least…or a death sentence at the worst. Still, he’d heard something snap. Must’ve been the smaller bone. All the same, it hurt like hell.

Grimacing with the effort it took and cursing, he half crawled, half scooted to the door. Dust and straw from the floor tickled his nose. He sneezed.

The prospect of crawling another hundred yards through the snow didn’t hold much appeal. He glanced around the stable. If he could fashion something into a makeshift crutch, he might be able to hobble back to the house under his own steam. Otherwise, how long would it take an angry Talia to realize something was wrong?

He scooted around until he faced one of the support beams.
Careful
. “God!” He’d forgotten his hip was bruised, and now it was already stiffening up. If he could get to his knees, he could get on his feet—well, one of them, anyway. A shovel would do for supporting his weak side.

Jared gritted his teeth and rolled to his belly. A groan ripped from his throat. Damned if he couldn’t feel the ends of the broken bone rubbing together. No matter. He had to get back to the house.

Pushing up from his elbows, he scooted his good leg underneath his body. Now for the other.

Pain spiked through his leg to his hip. Damn. Damn. Damn. He clenched his jaw and gasped for air until the pain lessened. While holding on to the beam, he shifted his weight to his injured side. At least that knee was steady enough. Then he brought his uninjured leg forward until his foot was flat on the stable floor. He sucked in a deep breath and, bunching his thigh muscles, straightened his good leg, pulling his body to a standing position.

Clinging to the post, Jared groaned and waited until the pain lessened. Once it had, he wiped the sweat from his brow. His good leg trembled, but his balance began to steady. He reached for the shovel.

Now all he had to do was hop a hundred yards through the snow to the ranch house. There he’d find a relatively warm kitchen and food. And Talia.

Dear, sweet Talia, who, if she knew why he was here, would probably shoot him and put him out of his misery.

Chapter Eleven

Natalia broke four eggs, gathered before the storm, into a bowl and started to whip them with a fork. Scrambled eggs would make a hearty breakfast, along with bacon and bread toasted in the oven. Too bad she didn’t have all the ingredients on hand for
huevos rancheros
. Sarita made the best tortillas and salsa around. While Natalia could cook, the few dishes were plain and simple ones because her friend and housekeeper cook had always been there. And she cooked so much better.

And now because of that bastard’s arrival, Sarita had left them alone and probably perished in the snowstorm. Natalia’s throat tightened, and her hands shook. What she wouldn’t give to punish the bastard. Poison him. Now that would serve him right.

As quickly as the drastic solution entered her mind, it fled. If she hadn’t poisoned old Reginald during the eight horrible years of their marriage, she wasn’t about to harm the man who’d saved her life.

Still, for all his fine manners, he was a dangerous man. And up to no good if he thought he was going to pin Reginald’s death on her.

Where was he, anyway? How long did it take to spread a little straw?

Natalia dumped the eggs into a hot iron skillet. They sizzled as they hit the bacon grease left behind. The aroma hit her nose, making her mouth water and her stomach growl. While the eggs cooked, she continued whipping them. Light and fluffy was how she liked them.

She glanced toward the door. Her patience was wearing thin. If he didn’t hurry his deceitful bones, the eggs would be cold and not worth eating. Four eggs were four eggs they wouldn’t have tomorrow or the next day—however long this blasted snow was going to last. The hens in the henhouse normally didn’t lay much in the winter, and that was providing they didn’t freeze to death in the meantime.

Fine. Let the bastard starve. She dumped the scrambled eggs into a clean bowl and set it on the stovetop. Wiping her hands on her apron, she walked over to the door and peered out.

There he was. Finally.

But something was wrong. He was hobbling, holding on to something for support.

Ignoring the cold, she opened the door and rushed outside. “Here. Put your arm around my shoulder. I’m steadier than a stupid shovel,” she said, taking the shovel and casting it aside. “What happened?” She wrapped her arm around his waist, providing additional support.

He gazed at her as if she were an oasis in the desert. “Let’s just say your cow didn’t care to be startled and lashed out—without provocation, I must add.”

The weight of his body was heavy, but together they struggled back to the ranch house. “What did you do to the poor thing? Is Daisy all right?”

He stopped and stared. “Is
she
all right? She broke my damned leg.”

“Can’t be broken. You’re putting weight on it.”

“I heard it snap. Must be the smaller of the two bones. If the larger bone isn’t broken, it can support weight, but it hurts like hell.”

“I see. So
now
you’re a doctor and obviously an expert in anatomy.”

“Common sense. Besides, my older brother had a similar injury when he was a lad.”

“Who stepped on him? Or should I say what?”

Jared grinned somewhat sheepishly. “Something fell on him.”

“What?”

“Me.”

“Figures.” Natalia reached for the door and opened it. “Go on. Breakfast is getting cold.”

“Talia, you’re a heartless creature.” He took his arm from around her shoulder.

“Heart
less
?”
Calm down. Don’t give yourself away
. “I cooked breakfast, and I rescued you, for pity’s sake.”

“Rescued? Hmph.” He wrinkled his nose and sneered. “Hardly a rescue. I could’ve made it to the house.”

“Yes, you could’ve. But don’t deny you were glad to see me.”

“I won’t.” He hobbled the rest of the way into the kitchen.

“Now sit. I hate cold eggs.” Try as she might, she couldn’t keep the brusque tone from her voice.

Jared eased down onto one of the chairs. “Wait a minute.” She pulled out another chair. “Prop your leg on this one.” She reached for his boot and started to tug it off.

“Easy, woman. It’s broken.”

Natalia let out an exasperated sigh. “I’ll be as easy as I can, but that boot has to come off before there’s more swelling.” Straddling his outstretched leg, she gently pulled off his boot, then removed the other with a great deal less moaning on Jared’s part. “Now as soon as you eat, those pants are coming off. I’ll pack some snow around the break. It’ll help the swelling.”

“Now who’s acting like the doctor?” He pulled off his gloves and set them on the chair beside his outstretched foot.

“We’ve tended broken bones on this ranch before.” At least Sarita had. Trying to hide her trepidation, Natalia stood with her hands on her hips. “You’re not the first.”

“I appreciate your expertise, then. Thank you, Talia.”

If only she’d had expertise beyond watching Sarita’s ministrations.

Even though the temptation to poison him, or at least smack his face, was strong, his soft tone reminded her how tender he was in bed. How he’d seen to her pleasure as well as his own. Giving herself permission to smile, she said, “You’re welcome. I guess it’s the least I can do for the man who saved my life.” Even if that same man was trying to find proof she’d had her husband murdered.

She set the bowl of eggs on the table, along with a platter of bacon and buttered toast. “I trust you can help yourself. Nothing wrong with your hands?” She softened her words with another smile to keep from gritting her teeth.

Easy. Easy
. He was bound to get suspicious with the way she was acting.

Jared held up his hands and wiggled his fingers. “All present and accounted for, ma’am.”

“I’ll get a jar of preserves from the pantry. Just be a minute.” She fled the kitchen for the sanctuary of the storeroom. Her hands started shaking again. She felt like her whole body was about to explode. Somehow she had to regain a modicum of self-control. After several deep breaths, she felt calmer. At least calm enough to face him without taking the iron skillet to his head.

Snatching a jar of gooseberry preserves from the shelf, she took one more breath, then headed back to the kitchen and Jared.

Despite the throbbing in his leg, Jared wasn’t about to let Talia’s delicious breakfast go to waste. He ate a couple of bites of his eggs and then crunched down on a piece of bacon. He let out a moan of satisfaction. Eggs were still warm and the bacon was crisp, the way he liked it. As hungry as he was, though, it would take a side of beef to fill him up.

Talia returned, bearing a jar of something. “Gooseberry preserves,” she said. “Hope you like them.”

Her tone of voice clearly said she hoped he’d choke. Obviously, his untimely snooping still angered her. “Thank you. I’m sure it’s delicious.”

“Don’t worry. I didn’t make it. Sarita did. I’m afraid I’ve been overly dependent on her.” A frown pulled her dark, wing-like brows together. “I can’t imagine what it will be like to live here without her.” Her bottom lip trembled. “She was the one who kept me going through eight years of hell.”