The Circle Eight: Nicholas (5 page)

Rebecca was smiling as she ran toward the barn. Her adventure was just beginning.

Nick was being slowly tortured. Blissfully unaware, Winnie’s head lolled back on the seat before she slumped sideways. Damned if she didn’t end up with her warm, soft body pressed against him from stem to stern. It was a sweet weight, one that made him forget who he was, if only for a few moments.

Her clean scent drifted up toward him, along with the unmistakable fragrance of grief. She had grieved for the daughter she’d never been allowed to keep and the girl Winnie had never been allowed to be.

He understood grief all too well. Her words, her raw emotions, had scraped at him until he almost made a confession of his own. She was unique, unlike anyone he’d ever met. He might not ever admit it, but he agreed with her—they were very much alike. More so than he wanted to accept.

He had dark secrets and his own grief. It was buried deep inside him and there was no way it would ever see the light of day, no matter how much she might weep and tell her own stories. Nick wasn’t about to blow his own cork and let the evil genie out of its bottle.

She shifted closer and sighed. Her warm breath tickled the skin on his neck. He wanted to move away from her, to break the contact with her incredible softness. At the same time, he didn’t. He could imagine having that weight close to him every day, every night, every morning.

Enticing.

Dangerous.

His muscles had tightened until his legs started to cramp. He forced himself to relax, breath
e slow and easy until his body eased. Even asleep she did things to him. There was always a reaction, good or bad.

Nick had spent so much time keeping people at a distance,
but Winnie had snaked through his defenses before he realized she was there. Before he realized she was much more than a woman he’d met.

She was brave, outspoken and smart, not to mention tough. Not many young
, beautiful women ran boardinghouses on their own. Hell, none of them had the balls to kill their own father, regardless of how evil and twisted he was.

Winnie had almost died because of her courage and her rage. Yet here she was a few months later, hale and hearty, and full of passion. She amazed him, humbled him and made him recognize just how pitiful his life was.

He was yanked in all directions when around her and he still was drawn to her. Irresistibly moving like a moth heading toward certain death in the flames of a lantern. He couldn’t stop himself. It wasn’t only because of their experience in Houston when she’d been shot by her father, or even when they’d found bliss in each other’s arms in the barn yesterday. No, it was her story, her loss and victory over that tragedy. Winnie was who he wanted to be, who he could be. She was everything he wasn’t.

Her hands lay on her lap, small and open, the fingers slightly curled. For being so delicate and dainty, she commanded a great deal of power. How had she survived what she’d been through? What’s more, how had she remained whole and full of life?

Nick’s gaze kept driving back to her hands, how she had touched him, brought him pleasure and peace. He craved more. His body ached to experience it again. To feel something besides despair and anger.

He shifted his shoulder until she slumped completely against him. It felt right, perfect perhaps. He hadn’t experienced much in his life he could call perfect. Except Winnie.

She made him want to be a better person. How could he do that when he couldn’t fight his own demons? He could do something for her. He needed to do something for her. The question was, what could he do? She was independent, had her own money and would doubtless not appreciate his help if he poked his nose in her business.

Yet he felt compelled. It was the first time in a long time that he
’d felt anything but dark emotions. It was the same feeling that had overcome him in Houston. He had watched himself transform into another person, someone who forgot his own darkness and worried about another’s happiness.

He had forgotten how that felt, perhaps deliberately. When he was caught within the despair that was his constant companion, he closed his eyes against everything else. Nick didn’t want to feel that way, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself.

Now with Winnie so close, he allowed himself to remember that feeling. It was addictive, and he hadn’t wanted to remember it when there was no chance of experiencing it again. Here he was, back with her for another two days, lost in Winnie Watson.

She’d had tragedies in her life, as had he. She had triumphed; he had not. Maybe, just maybe, if he stayed near her long enough, he might find a way to be as triumphant as she. And if he helped her, he might even find peace, not happiness, but contentment. Enough to allow him to live and beat back the ghosts that rode his back.

She made a sound, a small hiccup of distress, and her hands fisted. His protective instincts flared to life. She needed him; she just didn’t know it yet.

Inspiration rushed through him so fast and hard, he sucked in a surprised breath. He knew the one thing that would make a change in her life.

Nicholas was going to help her find her daughter, Grace.

He didn’t know how but he was damn well going to find that child. Impatience licked at him as he waited for her to wake. He was amazed to recognize what he felt was excitement. He was
excited
. It was as foreign as happiness. Nick didn’t know how to react or act.

Nothing was more important than family and Winnie had none. Vaughn and Elizabeth were friends, extended family, but not blood. The Grahams had accepted Winnie as though she were a cousin, but again, she had no one of her own. Or rather, she did, but that daughter was
lost. Nick would right that wrong. He would damn well give her back her only kin.

Decision made, he found himself relaxing. Now he
had to tell Winnie what he wanted to do. Or rather, convince her it was right thing to do. He would be fiddling with her life and her future. This was not a small thing. He had little time to figure out how to do what he had to do.

“Nicholas?”

Less than that. He had no time.

“I’m here.”

She sighed and sat up. “I was more tired than I thought. My apologies. I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.”

“It’s all right. I didn’t mind.” That was an understatement, of course. He might have begun this trip full of resentment, but now he was bubbling with something very different.

She yawned and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“I haven’t slept well in years.”

She was quiet for a few moments. “Neither have I.”

A comfortable silence ensued. Somehow their conversation had cleared the air between them. Nicholas had time to consider how to convince Winnie to let him find her daughter. Although he had hours to concoct a plan, the best he could think of was starting with whoever delivered the child and dig until they found her. It wasn’t much of a plan but it was what he had.

The summer heat settled over them as they rode onward. Sweat rolled down his back, pooling at the waistband of his trousers. Winnie looked fresh as a daisy.

“I think we should stop and have some dinner. Eva packed plenty of vittles.” He wanted to talk to her face to face about his plan.

“I am parched. That sounds lovely.” She adjusted her bonnet. “I would also love to put a cold cloth on my neck.”

Nick wanted to be the one who put that cloth on her neck, or anywhere else she wanted one. The memory of her skin, the scent, the incredible softness, raced through him. It took great effort to push it aside and look for a likely place to stop.

Then he would change her life, and his, forever.

“I want to find your daughter. I want to find Grace.”

Winnie stared at him, shock keeping her immobile. His expression was serious, completely, utterly serious. She had to swallow twice before she could speak. Her
voice had deserted her.

“Why?” Her heart ached as she tried to understand what he wanted. “She is nothing to you. A nine-year-old memory of a dark time in my life.”

“It’s not who she is to me, it’s who she is to you.” He set down the biscuit he’d been toying with as he spoke. He brushed off the crumbs stuck to the tips of his fingers. His gaze found hers. “I’m not doing this right.”

“Doing what right? I don’t understand, Nicholas.” She hated the trembling in her voice and the way her heart thumped with pain.

He took her hands, his were surprisingly cool and damp. “I haven’t done much right in my life. My brothers can tell you how many times I do the wrong thing. This is something I want to do right. For you.”

She looked into his blue-green eyes and saw earnestness. Whatever he intended, he was being honest with her.

“For me?”

He blew out a breath. “You were right about me. I’m a mess, not worthy of much except working with cattle. You showed me I could do something else, be something else. Please let me find her for you. Let me find your family.”

Family.

The word had meant nothing to her most of her life. She hadn’t known her mother and wish
ed she hadn’t known her father. Now that she understood how family was supposed to treat each other, and how much she envied the Grahams, Nicholas dangled her own family in front of her.

He had no idea what his request was doing to her. Even allowing a small speck of hope to dance across her heart was dangerous. She managed to suck in some air but she still felt lightheaded.

Family.

“I didn’t tell you the story of how I lost her to prompt you to find her.” Her voice was rough. She didn’t sound like herself.

“I know that. I appreciate you telling me about Grace. More than I can tell you.” He squeezed her fingers. “You’ve given me something I’d lost. I want to do the same for you.”

She might embarrass herself by vomiting. Winnie got to her knees and extracted her hands from his. She turned away and leaned forward until her forehead touched the cool grass. Winnie attempted to suck in a
much-needed breath, but instead a sob escaped. A broken sob. Her throat closed.

A warm hand landed on her back. “I’m sorry, Winnie. I didn’t mean to make you cry. Hell, I
never use the right words.”

She wrapped her arms around her waist and squeezed. He rubbed her shoulder with awkward movements.

“Forget I said anything. We’ll get to Houston and you can shoot me dead. That ought to make you feel better.”

She managed to swallow. “I don’t want to shoot you.” To her own ears, her voice was
rusty as an old nail.

“You should. I’m a complete jackass.”

This time, her mouth twitched at his miserable humor. “I won’t disagree with you.”

“Hell, I’m worse than a jackass. Olivia would kick me in the balls.”

His idea was not unknown to her. She had toyed with the notion of finding Grace but it never went beyond a few wispy dreams. She never let it go beyond that. Now Nicholas threw it over her, dousing her like an icy bucket of water.

“Winnie, I’m sorry. Please say something.” His voice broke and she heard much more than an apology in his voice. She heard desperation and a darker emotion.

She pulled herself upright and relaxed her hands, ignoring the crescent shape dents and perhaps blood on her palms. He thrust a handkerchief at her, his expression one of pure misery. When she took the cloth from him, she squeezed his hand.

“I know you meant well.”

His normal scowl slipped back over his face. “I meant to pay you back for the kindness you’ve shown my sister and her husband.”

That made her angry. Almost furious. Her face heated with every pulse of ire.

“Don’t you dare turn this around into something its not. Your gesture has absolutely nothing to do with Vaughn or Elizabeth.” She poked her finger into his broad chest, remembering the slabs of muscle beneath the shirt. He was perfectly made outside if not inside.

Guilt flashed in his beautiful eyes before he looked away. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t you start lying, Nicholas.” She poked him twice for good measure. “You’re doing this for yourself.”

His gaze snapped back to hers. “For myself?”

“Yes, you are selfishly hoping I’ll say yes, fall at your feet and you can be a hero. I don’t even want your help, damn it.” She wanted to curse long and hard at him. Her childhood was anything but traditional, including an extensive array of curses and other inappropriate terms. “You will not use me like that.”

He opened as mouth as though to refute her again.

“Don’t you dare deny it.”

He shook his head. “
Winnie, I’m gonna try my best to explain this to you, but sometimes what I feel in my heart or my head is mixed up. My words don’t come out right.”

She didn’t want to believe him. He had already laid her heart open
, filleted like a fish under his knife of helpfulness. What could he possibly say that would make up for poking his nose in her business and causing her such distress?

He sat back and pulled his knees up, wrapping his arms around his legs. “As a Graham, I spend most of my days trying to keep my distance from my family. They
are noisy, pushy, and I don’t get many moments to myself. I pick chores that let me spend as much time as possible away from home.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t see anything beyond breathing in and out. Then I met you.”

She stared at him, pleased to hear him finally talking but still angry he had chosen to use her secrets to do so.
Winnie might not ever forgive him for that.

“Nothing in my life shines the way you do. Even the color of your hair glows in any light. You are so damn brave and strong. I felt less than worthy to help you when you were shot. When I saw what you did, killed your father for his crimes against all and sundry, I was humbled.” His voice had grown thick with emotion and she resisted the urge to pat his arm or
take his hand. He needed, not to mention deserved, to experience his feelings. “It almost hurt to look at you. There was nothing I could offer you that you couldn’t do on your own.”

“Not true.” She couldn’t help it. The fact this big, strong man was intimidated by her independence was foolish.

“Then you shared your story about Grace and how you lost her. I can’t be the man for you to share your life with, but perhaps I could give you a gift you would remember me for during that life.”

Share her life? He wanted to share his life with her? Winnie digested that piece of information, or at least attempted to, and couldn’t stop her heart from thumping. She’d never met anyone who understood the struggles she endured, sometimes on a daily basis, until she met Nicholas Graham. His struggles were equal to if not greater than hers.

“If I can find her, then maybe I can chase away some of my own darkness.” He flexed his hands and then fisted them. “God knows I haven’t been able to do it.”

“Is that all? That is the only reason? To chase away your own shadows?” She punched his arm. “You
are selfish.” Winnie’s disappointment washed over her. He was a good person who had helped her to survive the gunshot that nearly took her life. Now he was showing her he only thought of himself.

“
I want to find your family,” he whispered. “Everyone needs family.”

Her breath caught. “What did you say?”

“Family.”

She stared at him,
heart in her throat. “I don’t understand.”

“For all the complaining I do about my family, I know I wouldn’t be
here without them.” His gaze met hers. Honesty. Truth. Desperation. “Please. Let me find her.”

Winnie’s stomach turned
in a circle once, then again. She tasted food from the previous day’s wedding feast. He knew what he offered her, what it meant to her and how much it hurt to even imagine such a thing. Yet he asked her to allow him to rip the scab off he biggest, deepest wound on her soul.

She got to her feet and walked a few feet away, her arms around her middle.
Nausea continued to assault her. And along with it was something she never expected…hope.

Hope was such a dangerous thing. She had it bled o
ut of her at the age of ten. Now the notion she could find Grace raced through her, followed quickly by the one thing she knew she might not survive.

Hope.

Before, Winnie endured pain and anger. Now, she shook from the possibility of what his request meant. She hadn’t allowed herself to open that door before. Now he was pushing it open, albeit in the guise of asking her permission.

She should say no. She should climb back in the wagon and go home. To her safe boardinghouse and safe life. To never think about what might have been if she said yes to Nicholas Graham’s crazy plan. She opened her mouth to tell him no.

Then she found she had lost her mind along with him.

“Promise me you won’t break my heart. Promise me you will find her.”

Nicholas’s expression spoke of surprise and determination. “I promise you I won’t stop until we find her.”

“We?”

“Yes, we. You’re smart and you know people in Houston. I have a gun and a bad attitude. Together we can do anything.”

She couldn’t stop the snort that escaped. “
You can be formidable.”

“And you are smarter than any woman I know.”

“I doubt that is true. I’ve met your sisters and sisters-in-law. They all appear to be quite smart women.”

He waved his hand. “I don’t consider them when I think of
females.”

This time Winnie smiled. “You have
a certain charm, Mr. Graham.”

He frowned, the wrinkles between his eyes a familiar dent. “I don’t reckon anyone would call me charming.”

Before she could think about changing her mind, she kissed him. “Let’s find my daughter.”

“God
damn right we will.”

Winnie couldn’t stop the well of excitement that raced through her, leaving goose
bumps across her skin.

They were going to find Grace.

Matt Graham rode home with his brothers Caleb and Benjy ahead. It had been a good day and the summer had proven to be the right combination of sun and rain. The grass grew, the cattle ate and got fat. In the not too distant future, they would bring the beeves to market and fill their coffers for the winter. If things kept going well, it would be a nice profit for the Circle Eight.

It was about time things evened out for the Grahams. After some rough years and tragedies, they were due for some good things to happen. What with Granny Dolan passing, Hannah had carried a touch of sadness about her. The children grew and she was happy, but he knew she missed her grandmother. An uneventful summer and fall would go a long way to making things normal for everyone.

The three reached the barn and dismounted. As he led his horse into the darkened interior of the building, he rolled his shoulders. He could use a bath and possibly a rubdown by his wife. The thought was very appealing and he wondered how he got so lucky. Life was damn good.

As he passed a few stalls, he stopped and cocked his head at the empty spot where Rebecca’s horse should be. He frowned. It was too late in the day for her to be riding. Hell, it was nearly suppertime.

“Do you know if Rebecca had to go to town today?” Matt asked the question to no one in particular.

“Damned if I know.” Caleb poked his head up from the stall. No doubt he was rubbing his horse down and preparing to get him settled for the night.

“Dunno,” was Benjy’s murmur from farther down the barn.

“Shit.” Matt made quick work of his own horse’s care and then strode toward the house with a bit more speed than he would have had before discovering his sister’s absence.

He opened the door and the smell of supper washed over him. Eva had made something spicy and it smelled incredible. First he had to find Rebecca and the food would wait. The women were in the kitchen with Mr. Bartholomew at the table playing some kind of game of sticks with the children.

Catherine leaned against the table munching on something she’d pilfered from the stove no doubt. The teenager was a hellion and never listened to a thing anyone told her.

“Where’s Rebecca?”

Eva glanced at Hannah.

“I ain’t seen her since this morning.” Catherine was not particularly helpful.

“She went to go help that man who came to the house.” This from the older man with the sling.

“What man?” Matt’s words were clipped.

Eva and Hannah looked at each other again.

“Hannah? Eva?” He looked at his sister-in-law, Aurora. “Rory? Somebody tell me where the hell Rebecca is.”