The Circle Eight: Nicholas (14 page)

Winnie’s face flooded with heat. “She was given as a child worker. A young girl who couldn’t walk like others was taken to work in a
feed store
?”

“There wasn’t much else I could do, Mrs. Graham. No one wanted her.”

Winnie leapt to her feet and walked away, the grass spongy beneath her feet. Her mind raced with thoughts of what her daughter had endured. Might still be enduring.

Crippled. Unwanted. Abandoned.

A warm hand on her shoulder stopped her wandering. “Bertha has to go back to work.” Nicholas took her arm. “She gave me the name of the feed store.”

Winnie could only nod, exhausted by the emotional storm of the day. She listened as he thanked the older woman again, then walked blindly beside him out of the beautiful yard. The sun still shone, the birds
still sang, but everything had lost its color.

The lovely mare she had enjoyed held no promise now. She sat atop the saddle and took the reins when proffered. Nick looked up at her, his hand on her knee.

“Things we did, we can’t undo. There’s no soap and water to wash away mistakes. We accept them and move forward. We can’t go back and we can’t stand still.” He was quite a philosopher for a rancher.

She smiled at him with nothing more than the muscles in her face. “I know.”

“That is the first lie I’ve ever seen you tell.” One corner of his mouth turned down. “Let’s go home and you can get some sleep.”

She didn’t speak, but he took her silence as acquiescence. He mounted his own horse and they rode away. Winnie breathed, her heart beat and her body functioned, but she could hardly see beyond her own pain.

Her heart was in a thousand pieces.

Nicholas was worried. He wasn’t
one to worry about things. He complained and groused, muddled about and carried on. Damn sure didn’t waste his time worrying.

Yet he worried now. About Winnie.

This whole situation with her daughter had turned her into a ghost of who she was when he’d first met her. Fierce, bossy and passionate, Winnie Watson had turned him on his ear until he didn’t know which way was up.

Now because he had pushed her into finding the daughter she gave up, she had become a person he didn’t recognize. Shaking, pale and lifeless. As they rode through Houston to her boardinghouse, he kept prompting her to verify they were headed
in the right direction. He didn’t know this complicated mass of streets. Yet she appeared to be almost slumbering on her horse.

There was a point in the yard of that big house, the largest he’d ever seen and certainly the fanciest, that he thought she would have the vapors. Hell, she did have the vapors, and nearly puked. Wha
t they heard was rough news and it hit her with a force of a mule kick.

And he worried. About Winnie.

They reached the boardinghouse in less than an hour but it seemed ten times that long. A ride pervaded by awkward silence and a nothingness that bothered him immensely.

He helped her dismount and then took the horses to the barn. They deserved some care after a long day of riding all over creation. He took his time currying them, checking their hooves and providing them with feed and water. The quiet of the barn helped him think about what had happened that day.

A lot. More than he expected and it would take time to get it all straight in his mind. Winnie blamed herself for all that had happened to the girl, but it simply wasn’t true. At sixteen, Winnie was still a child herself, and had a monster for a father who controlled her for another five years after her daughter’s birth. Nothing was Winnie’s fault. Not a damn thing.

Now the trick was going to be to make her believe it because if he wasn’t mistaken, her heart was hurting and she needed kindness and love. Two things he wasn’t very good at.

It seemed his relationship with Winnie was more complicated with each day that passed. He had been by her side, whether or not he helped was still an unanswered question. Damn sure she wouldn’t have made it back home after speaking with Bertha if he hadn’t been there. She’d been shaking and pale as milk. Finding out her child had lived in an orphanage for years because she was crippled had been difficult to hear.

Tomorrow they would go to the feed store and possibly find the child. The one piece of information that had hit Nick was the name given to Grace when she’d been left at Fuller’s Home—Martha. What were the odds she would be named after
his sister-in-law’s grandmother, adopted by the Grahams who had passed away several months earlier. In Nick’s arms, no less. He’d been the one to see the life disappear from her eyes. The experience had affected him more than he let on. Granted, she’d been quite old, in her seventies, and staying the night in the elements had been too much for her failing heart.

Now the child Grace was Martha. As if the older woman, outspoken and stubborn, had come back to show him the path he should take. If Winnie was able to find and adopt the girl, then Nick might have no reason not to marry her. An instant family and another Martha in the Graham household.

With that thought rattling around in his brain, he patted the roan mare’s neck and put the curry brush up. “I guess it’s time to go into the house. I think I’ve stayed away long enough.”

The sunset painted the yard in brilliant orange and pink. He squinted and tugged his hat down f
arther on his forehead. He might have to go scrounge up food for supper. After their breakfast that morning, there didn’t appear to be much left in the pantry.

He knocked on the backdoor before he entered the house.
No one answered and the house was bathed in shadows. He turned the wick up on the lamp on the table.

“Winnie?” His voice echoed across the empty room.

With a frown, he walked through the kitchen, poking his head into the parlor and sitting rooms, also empty. The stairs loomed ahead and he took them quickly, because damn it all, he was worried. Again.

No lights burned upstairs. He turned toward Winnie’s room in the corner. She’d chosen that to live in because of the
two large windows. The room sat at the corner of the house. The other three rooms were meant for borders, but they lay empty now, waiting for their next resident.

Her door was closed, which was a good indicator she was in there. He rapped on the wood with his knuckle.

“Winnie?”

A muffled sound came from within.

“I’m coming in.”

Another muffled sound. He opened the door, surprised it wasn’t locked. If she truly desi
red privacy, she would have used the key. To his surprise, she wasn’t in bed. She sat on the window seat, her knees drawn up toward her chest with her arms wrapped around her calves.

“Winnie?”

She sighed and turned her head toward him. Her eyes were buckets of sadness, brimming with ancient pain.

“I was never meant to be a mother.”

He sat down beside her. “If that were true, you wouldn’t have conceived her.”

She snorted. “Any animal can breed.”

“I don’t like you when you do this.”

Her eyes widened. “Pardon me?”

“You heard me. I reckon you’re due to feel bad about what happened to the girl, but this—” he waved his hand at the empty room and her posture, “—this woebegone face and the moping needs to be over. I don’t like it and it needs to stop.”

Her mouth tightened. Good. It was a better reaction than the sad-faced girl.

“You have no right to judge how I behave.”

“And you have no right to behave that way. The girl was well-cared for at the orphanage. Was it a perfect life? No, but she’s alive.” His anger for her grew. “Sitting around in self-pitying foolishness will not change anything.”

“What do you know of her life?”

“I know her parents were
n’t murdered by a greedy bastard who wanted her family’s land.” He blurted. “I know her youngest brother wasn’t kidnapped and held for five years by a bastard who did untold horrors.”

Her arms opened and she reached for his arm. “Murdered?”

“Shot and our barn burned. I was fifteen years old. My father and brothers had survived the war, but in the end, greed and evil took my parents and brother from us. I was the one who convinced Mama to make Benjy stay home that day. He’d been driving me crazy, pestering me until I wanted to throttle him. Because of my selfishness, my brother lost five years of his life.” His throat burned with fire. The Grahams had endured so much in the last eight years, more than any family should. “There are worse fates than living in an orphanage and not knowing your mother.”

His anger faded as quickly as it had come. There were days he wanted to rail at the heavens for the unjustness. Then there were days his own guilt for what happened to Benjy threatened to
overwhelm him. Until now, only his mother knew what he’d done and she couldn’t speak the truth.

She sucked in an audible breath and blew it out again. “You’re absolutely correct. I was lost in regrets and self-recrimination. There are definitely worse
occurrences. I’m sorry about your parents and your brother. It was Benjy, right?”

He nodded tightly. “He was gone for five years until Caleb stumbled across him and had to steal him back from the man who had bought him.”

She swung her legs around and snuggled up beside him. “Poor child. He did appear to be very quiet and watchful.”

Nick shrugged. “I try to talk to him but I don’t want to ask him what happened. Sometimes it’s better not knowing.”

She squeezed his arm. “I can attest to that. Sometimes it is better. Now that I know her story I need to finish this. I need to find her and determine if she’s happy and safe.”

“And will you leave her be? Not tell her who you are if she is?” Nick didn’t know if he could do such a thing.

“Yes, it will rip my heart from my chest to walk away but I can and I will.” She got to her feet. “First, though, I think we need supper. Let me ask Consuela if she can come over and cook.”

“Who’s Conseula?” He was pleased to see the spark back in her eyes. The self-pitying
, long-faced woman was not Winnie Watson. She was someone disguised as her who didn’t deserve to take over such an incredible person such as Winnie.

“The cook for the boardinghouse. She lives two doors down and can make the most delicious tortilla soup in no time.”

Nick stood and cupped her face in his hands. “That is more like it. I knew you were in there somewhere.” He kissed her hard and stepped back.

She shook her head. “You are an insufferable ass.”

“I know, but that’s part of my charm.”

She chuffed a laugh. “Let’s eat supper and then prepare for tomorrow.”

He had a better idea of what to do after they ate, but now wasn’t the right time to mention it. After they had full bellies and Consuela returned to her own house, he would speak of it. His body craved her, this spunky woman with skin as soft as flower petals.

This woman who already held his heart in her tiny little hands.

Winnie closed the door behind Consuela’s goodnight and leaned her forehead against the wood.
The impromptu supper had been delicious, as usual, and the cook’s gaze had kept straying to Nicholas. Her winks and nudges made Winnie regret asking the older woman to come over. It was embarrassing to know her desire for him was so obvious.

He sat behind her on the stairs, his elbows resting on his knees. As was his way, he’d been quiet during dinner, eating several helpings of the tortilla soup and corn bread. When the cook had brought out
cinnamon sprinkled rolls for dessert, his eyes had brightened. The man obviously had a sweet tooth, given the fact he ate most of them.

Now they were alone again. The air crackled with all that was between them. What exactly that was, Winnie could not explain. She knew she loved him and at times, hated him for his abruptness and cruel words. Then she would remember it was who he was. His abrupt words weren’t cruel but honest. They brought her back from the darkness that threatened her.

She turned and looked at him. He cocked his head and watched her, his face in the shadows. His hat had been abandoned for the meal, exposing his wavy brown hair. She knew first hand how soft it was and how the curls slid through her fingers.

“Feeling better?” his voice was pitched low, husky.

“Yes.” She stepped toward him, her body thrumming insistently at the sight of the man she desired, despite all the odds.

Winnie put her knee on the second step and made her way to where he sat on the fifth s
tep. He watched her, those blue-green eyes unreadable. When she reached him, he lifted his arms allowing her to slide between his knees.

The heat from his body surrounded her. She
leaned forward and kissed him. His lips were warm and compliant as she nibbled her way from one side to the other. His breath gusted out as she lapped at the seam of his lips.

“You starting something?” he murmured.

“I was hoping to.”

His lips twitched in what might have been a smile. “On the stairs? What if someone comes by?”

“The door is locked and I have no guests.” She kissed her way across his jaw, the scrape of whiskers on his jaw rough against her lips.

“You run a boardinghouse. Anyone could come by.” He groaned when she reached his ear and nibbled on the lobe.

“Do you want me to stop?” She hovered half an inch from his neck, waiting for him, aching for him.

“Hell no.”

Winnie laughed against his skin and resumed her explorations. His skin was warm and salty, his scent uniquely Nicholas. She reached for the buttons on his shirt, kissing the exposed skin. Down, down, down, she went.

When she reached his belly, his muscles were rock hard. When she touched his trousers, he jerked. His cock was already hard, straining against the flap of the material. She had never enjoyed seducing a man, but with Nicholas, she not only enjoyed it, she
was excited by it. Her pussy throbbed with each touch of her lips on his skin.

She cupped him and he groaned. “You don’t have to.”

“Oh but I want to.”

“I’ve never
…that is…I haven’t…oh hell.” He was flustered and inexperienced in ways she hadn’t been for a very long time.

“Then let me
show you.” She waited until he exhaled the breath he’d been holding.

“Yes.”

A thrill raced through her as she released his staff. It sprang into her hands, hot and hard, velvet steel. She ran her hands down its length, reveling in the shudders that passed through him. He pulsed within her grasp. She lowered her head and took him into her mouth.

He moaned and grasped the bannisters in both hands. “Holy fuck.”

She sucked at the head of his cock, paying special attention to the underside. When she took his length into her mouth, he almost cracked the wood he hung onto. She laved him, suckling the tip before pulling him deep into recesses of her throat.