Lethal Attraction: Against the Rules\Fatal Affair (17 page)

Cathryn quietly raised the window to let in some fresh air, then tiptoed out and closed the door behind her.

Ricky was leaning against the wall outside the room, her slanted hazel eyes narrowed in fury. “You told Lewis not to take me to the hospital so I could see Rule, didn’t you?” she charged. “You didn’t want me to be with him. You wanted him all to yourself.”

Afraid that the woman’s angry voice would wake him, Cathryn grabbed Ricky’s arm roughly and pulled her away from the door. “Be quiet!” she whispered angrily. “He’s sleeping, and he needs all the rest he can get.”

“I’ll just bet he does!” Ricky sneered.

Cathryn had spent a horrible two days and her temper was frayed. She snapped. “Think what you like, but stay away from him. I’ve never meant anything as much as I mean that. I’m warning you, I’ll do whatever I have to do to keep you from upsetting him while he’s still so ill. This is my ranch, and if you want to stay here you’d better pay attention to what I’m saying!”

“Oh, God, you make me sick!
Your
ranch!
Your
house! You’ve always thought this stupid little ranch made you better than everyone else.”

Cathryn’s fist doubled.
She
was sick. Sick and tired of Ricky’s jealousy and pure nastiness, even though she understood them. Perhaps Ricky saw the last bit of control vanish from Cathryn’s expression, because she moved quickly away and went downstairs, leaving Cathryn standing in the hallway trying to control the rage that burned through her.

After several minutes she went down to the kitchen and passed along Rule’s request for soup, knowing from previous experience that his nap would be a short one, and wanting to have something ready for him to eat when he awoke. Lorna’s damp eyes lit up at the information that Rule wanted her to do something for him and she began rushing about the kitchen. Within half an hour the tray was prepared with a bowl brimming with the rich, thick vegetable soup that she made, and a glass of iced tea. As Cathryn carried the tray upstairs she reflected that if Rule were still asleep she could eat the soup herself, because suddenly she was starving.

But Rule stirred when she opened the door, moving restlessly on the bed. He tried to struggle into a sitting position and she hurriedly set the tray on the night table and rushed to help him, putting an arm behind his neck to provide support while she punched the pillows into position to brace him. Then she had to get his leg settled comfortably, a process that had him clenching his jaw before it was finished.

He ate the soup with more appetite than he had shown for anything in the hospital, but the bowl was still half-full when he pushed it away and said irritably, “It’s hot in here.”

Cathryn sighed, but he had a point. The windows faced southwest, and the room took the full blast of the hot afternoon sun. It wasn’t so noticeable to someone who didn’t have to spend the entire day in the room, but already perspiration was glistening on his face and torso. Central heating and air-conditioning had never been installed in the old house, so the only solution she could think of was to buy a window unit. In the meantime she remembered that they had an electric fan and searched it out. At least that would keep the air moving until she could buy an air-conditioner.

She plugged the fan into the outlet and turned the switch on, directing the flow of air onto his body. He sighed and threw his right arm up to cover his eyes. “I remember one day in Saigon,” he murmured. “It was so ungodly hot that the air was almost syrupy. My boots were sticking to the pavement when I walked across the helicopter pad.
That
was hot, Cat—so miserably hot that if Nam wasn’t hell, it came in second. For years the feel of sweat crawling down my back was as bad as a snake crawling on me, because it reminded me of that day in Saigon.”

Cathryn stood as if she had been turned to stone, afraid to say anything. It was the first time he had shared any of his memories of the war, and she wasn’t certain if he was slowly becoming accustomed to talking about it or if he wasn’t quite rational. He resolved that question when he moved his arm and looked at her, his dark eyes steady. “Until one day in July, eight years ago,” he whispered. “It was hot that day, blistering hot, and when I saw you swimming naked in the river I envied you, and I thought about jumping in with you. Then I thought that some other man could have seen you as easily as I had, and I wanted to shake you until your teeth rattled. You know what happened,” he continued softly. “And while I was making love to you the sun was burning down on my back and sweat was running off me, but I didn’t think of Vietnam that day. All I could think of was the way you had turned so sweet and wild in my arms, lying under me and burning me with a different kind of heat. I never minded being hot and sweaty after that day, because all I had to do was look up at that Texas sun and I thought of making love with you.”

Cathryn swallowed, unable to speak or move. He held out his hand to her. “Come here.”

She found herself on her knees beside the bed, his hand clenched in her hair as he pulled her forward. He didn’t make the mistake of trying to meet her halfway; he forced her all the way to him, stretching her half across the bed. Their mouths met wildly and his tongue sent her a virile message that left her senses spinning. “I want you now,” he murmured into her mouth, taking her hand and sliding it down his body. Cathryn moaned as her fingers confirmed his need.

“We can’t,” she protested, pulling her lips free, though she mindlessly continued to caress him gently, her hand straying upward to stroke his lean hard belly. “
You
can’t. You shouldn’t be moving....”

“I won’t,” he promised, cajoling in a husky murmur. “I’ll be perfectly still.”

“Liar.” Her voice was vibrantly tender. “No, Rule. Not now.”

“You’re supposed to keep me satisfied.”

“That’s not what the doctor said,” she sputtered. “I’m supposed to keep you quiet.”

“I’ll be quiet—if you keep me satisfied.”

“Please be reasonable.”

“Horny men have never been reasonable.”

Despite herself she had to laugh, burying her face against the curly hair of his chest until she had her giggles under control. “You poor baby,” she crooned.

He smiled and abandoned his attempt to talk her into bed, though she doubted that she could have resisted his sensual pleas if he had persisted for much longer.

He drew his fingers through her hair, watching the dark red strands sift downward. “Are you thinking of leaving, now that I can’t do anything to stop you?” he asked, his manner deceptively casual.

Cathryn raised her head swiftly, pulling her hair as she did so. She winced and he dropped the strands that he still held. “Of course not!” she denied indignantly.

“You haven’t thought about it at all?”

“Not at all.” She smiled down at him and traced a finger around the tiny male nipple that she had found in the curls of hair. “I think I’ll stay around after all. I couldn’t possibly miss my chance to boss you around. I may never have another.”

“So you’re staying for revenge?” He was smiling, too, a crooked little smile that barely lifted the corners of his mouth, but for Rule that was something. Laughter didn’t come easily to him.

“I certainly am,” she assured him, teasing the little point of flesh into tautness. “I’m going to pay you back for every kiss and enjoy watching you squirm. I still owe you for that spanking you gave me, too. I may not be able to pay you back in kind, but I’m certain I’ll think of something.”

A shuddering breath lifted his chest. “I can hardly wait.”

“I know,” she said gleefully. “That’s my revenge. Making you wait...and wait...and wait.”

“You’ve made me wait for eight years. What do you do for an encore? Turn me into a monk?”

“You were far from that, Rule Jackson, so don’t try to tell me different! Wanda told me about your reputation in town. ‘Wild as a mink’ was the way she described you, and we both know what that means.”

“Gossiping women,” he grumbled.

Despite his better mood he was tiring rapidly, and when she moved to help him lie down he didn’t protest.

The air-conditioner was first on her list of things to get, but Lewis, having taken the time to fetch Rule home from the hospital, was far too busy now for her to ask him to fly back to San Antonio, which would probably be the nearest city where she could purchase a small air-conditioner that wouldn’t require additional electrical work on the house. That meant she would have to drive, a trip that took almost two hours one way. And the weather report called for more of the same: hot, hot and hot. Rule needed that air-conditioner.

But she was exhausted now, and the thought of that long drive was more than she could face. She would get up early in the morning and be at the appliance store in San Antonio when it opened. That way she could be back on the ranch before midday and would miss the worst of the heat.

After a long shower she checked in on Rule again and found him still asleep. That was the longest he had slept at any one stretch and she was reassured that he was mending. Gazing pensively at the white cast that covered his leg from knee to toes, she wished that it was gone and Rule was once more where he belonged, out on the range. As much as she relished the thought of having him at her mercy for at least a few days, it still hurt her to see him weak and helpless.

Taking advantage of the quiet, she stretched out across her own bed and instantly fell asleep, only to be awakened by a deep, irritable voice calling her name. She sat up and pushed her hair out of her face, glancing at the clock as she did so. She had slept for almost two hours. No wonder Rule was calling her! He must have been awake for some time, wondering if he had been abandoned.

Hurrying to his room, she found that that wasn’t the case at all. His flushed face and tousled hair testified that he had just woken up himself and had called for her in instant demand. After two days of having her constantly with him, he was used to having her at his beck and call.

“Where’ve you been?” he snapped fretfully.

“Asleep,” she said, and yawned. “What did you want?”

For a moment he lay there looking grumpy; then he said, “I’m thirsty.”

There was a pitcher of water and a glass on the table beside his bed, but Cathryn didn’t protest as she poured the water for him. The doctor had told her that Rule’s headaches would give him the very devil for several days, and that the least movement would be painful. She slipped her arm under his pillow to gently raise his head as she held the glass for him. He gulped the water. “It’s so damned hot in here,” he sighed when the glass was empty.

She had to agree with him on that point. “I’m driving into San Antone in the morning to buy a window air-conditioner,” she said. “Stick it out for the rest of the day, and tomorrow you’ll be comfortable.”

“That’s a lot of unnecessary expense—” he began, frowning.

“It’s not unnecessary. You won’t regain your strength as fast if you lie here sweating yourself half to death every day.”

“I still don’t like—”

“It’s not up to you to like it,” she informed him. “I said I’m buying an air-conditioner, and that’s that.”

His dark eyes settled on her sternly. “Enjoy yourself, because when I’m up and around again, you’re in trouble.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” she laughed, though it was a little bit of a lie. He was so tough and hard and held such sensual power over her that she was, if not actually afraid of him, more than a little cautious.

After a long moment the expression in his eyes softened fractionally. “You still look like you’re dead on your feet. Instead of running back and forth, why don’t you sleep in here with me? We’d both probably sleep better.”

His suggestion was so provocative that she almost climbed in beside him right then, but she remembered his half-serious attempt at seduction only a few hours before and she reluctantly decided against such a move. “No way. You’d never get any rest if you had a woman in bed with you.”

“How about next week?” he murmured, stroking her bare arm with one finger.

Cathryn was torn between laughter and tears. Did he sense how drastically her feelings had changed? It was as if he knew that the only thing keeping her out of his bed was her concern for his injuries. He was acting as if everything were settled between them, as if there were no more doubts clouding her mind. Perhaps there weren’t. She hadn’t really had time to decide exactly what she would do in regard to his marriage proposal, but she knew that no matter what happened now she couldn’t run from him again. Maybe her decision was already made and she had only to face it. So many maybes...

But she would be foolish to commit herself to anything right now. She was tired, exhausted from the trauma of the past two days. And she had a ranch to run, a horse sale to prepare for, Ricky’s malice to contend with, Rule’s demands on her time. She had too much on her mind right now to make such a serious decision. One of her basic rules was not to make any irrevocable decisions when she was under stress. Later, when Rule was back on his feet, there would be plenty of time for that.

She smiled at him and stroked his hair back from his forehead. “We’ll talk about that next week,” she said.

CHAPTER 9

“Cat!”

“Mrs. Ashe, what do you think about—”

“Cathryn, we need—”

“Cat, I need a shave—”

“For God’s sake, Cathryn, can’t you do something about—”

“Cathryn, I’m sorry, but Rule won’t let me do anything for him—”

Never before had Cathryn had so many people calling her name and demanding her time and attention. It seemed that everywhere she turned, someone had a problem that needed her immediate attention. There were a thousand and one things to be done every day on the ranch and Lewis Stovall was indispensable, but there were decisions that he couldn’t make and that Rule wasn’t in any shape to be handling. Monica always seemed to want something, and Ricky had her share of complaints. Lorna tried to take some of the burden of nursing Rule from Cathryn’s shoulders, but she was thwarted in that by Rule himself. No one but Cathryn could shave him, feed him, bathe him, see to his personal needs. No one but Cathryn could keep him entertained.

Of all the voices calling her every day, Rule’s sounded by far the most often. She ran up and down the stairs countless times every day to answer his demands. It wasn’t that he was a difficult patient, simply that he wanted her—and only her—to take care of him.

She had bought an air-conditioner the day after bringing him home from the hospital, and he rested better when the room was a more comfortable temperature. The quiet hum of the motor also masked the noises that might have disturbed him otherwise. He slept a great deal, but when he was awake he wasn’t very patient if Cathryn didn’t come immediately.

She couldn’t get angry with him, not when she could see for herself how pale he became if he tried to move very much at all. His leg still hurt him, and was beginning to itch under the cast, as well, and he couldn’t do anything to ease either condition. She wasn’t surprised that he was short-tempered; anyone would have been under the circumstances. For a man of his temperament, he was doing much better than she had expected.

However, understanding didn’t stop her legs from aching after a hundred trips up the stairs. She wasn’t getting enough sleep, or enough to eat, and the only time she was sitting down was when she was either on a horse or feeding Rule. After only two days she was ready to drop in her tracks.

That night she actually did fall asleep beside Rule. She could remember feeding him, and when he was finished she had set the plate back on the tray and leaned down for a moment to rest her head on his shoulder. The next thing she knew it was morning, and Rule was groaning from the cramp in his arm. He had held her all night long and spent the night propped up on his pillows, his right arm wrapped around her. He kissed her and smiled, but discomfort shadowed his face and she knew that he had slept badly, if at all.

The entire morning was hectic, with one problem after another cropping up. She had just ridden into the stables, having returned to feed Rule his lunch, when a pickup truck rolled into the yard and a familiar figure emerged.

“Mr. Vernon,” Cathryn called warmly, going up to greet her old friend. Another man got out of the vehicle and she glanced at him curiously before she recognized him. He was the man who had been with Paul Vernon the day she had met him in front of the drugstore, but she couldn’t recall his name.

Paul Vernon solved that problem by indicating the man with a sweep of his big hand and saying, “You remember Ira Morris, don’t you? Met him a week or so back.”

“Yes, of course,” said Cathryn, extending her hand to the man.

He shook hands, but he wasn’t looking at her. His eyes were sliding over the stables and barns, resting finally on the horses that were grazing peacefully in the pastures.

“I’ve heard a lot about this place,” he said, “and none of it was bad. Good, solid, well-mannered horses, the best quarter horses to be found in the state. But you’re breeding for speed now, too, I hear. Branching out into Thoroughbreds, aren’t you? They doing well?”

A few days before Cathryn wouldn’t have known if they were or not, but she had absorbed a lot of the business by necessity. “We sold a colt last year who’s been winning big in California this season.”

“I’ve heard of him,” said Ira Morris. “Irish Venture, by Irish Gale, out of Wanderer. Word is out that the mare’s dropped another foal by Irish Gale; I’d like to get in ahead of the sale.”

“None of the horses listed in the catalog will be sold until the day of the sale,” said Cathryn firmly.

“All right, I can understand that,” he readily agreed. “Would it be all right if I saw the colt?”

She shrugged and smiled. “I don’t mind, but the foal is a filly, not a colt. Her name is Little Irish, but Rule calls her Hooligan.”

“She’s headstrong?” Paul Vernon asked.

Cathryn’s smile grew broader and she lifted her hand to point out a dainty filly prancing around in the pasture. “Hooligan is just different,” she said. They watched the graceful movements in silence as the young horse danced lightly over the green grass. It was only when the filly came alongside another horse that you could get an idea of her size. Because she was so graceful, it wasn’t at first apparent that she was a tall, strong horse. Her sleek hide effectively masked the strength of her muscles; an observer first noticed her burnished beauty, the spirited arch of her neck and the delicacy with which she placed each hoof as she ran. Later, like a slow dawn, would come the realization that the filly had speed to burn, that those slender legs were as strong as steel.

“She’s not for sale,” said Cathryn. “At least not this year. Rule wants to keep her.”

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to speak to him.”

“I’m sorry,” said Cathryn, stretching the truth a bit. She didn’t quite like Ira Morris. He seemed to be a cold, calculating man. “Rule had an accident earlier this week and he’s restricted to bed; he can’t be disturbed.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Mr. Vernon said instantly. “What happened?”

“His horse stumbled and went down with him, then rolled on Rule’s leg.”

“Broken?”

“I’m afraid so. He also has a concussion, and we have to keep him quiet.”

“That’s a damned shame, with this sale coming up.”

“Oh, he won’t miss the sale,” Cathryn assured him. “If I know Rule Jackson, he’ll be hobbling around before then. I just hope I’ll be able to keep him down for the rest of this week.”

“Headstrong, ain’t he?” Mr. Vernon laughed.

“As a mule,” agreed Cathryn fervently.

Ira Morris shifted impatiently and she realized that he wasn’t interested in Rule’s health. He was interested only in the horses, and as far as she was concerned they had no horses to sell until the day of the sale. Rule would know instantly which horses he had listed in the catalog, but as the catalogs hadn’t arrived yet from the printers, Cathryn had no way of knowing without running to ask him, which she refused to do.

Mr. Morris cast another look over the ranch. “Just one thing, Mrs. Ashe,” he said brusquely. “I came here to talk business, but now I’m not sure who I should be talking to. Who runs this outfit, you or Jackson?”

Cathryn paused, considering that. “I own the ranch,” she finally said in a neutral tone. “But Mr. Jackson runs it for me, and he knows more about the horses than I do.”

“So his decisions are final?”

She was beginning to feel annoyed. “Just what are you asking, Mr. Morris? If you want to buy horses now, then my answer is, I’m sorry, but not until the sale. Or is there something else on your mind?”

He smiled a hard, wintry smile, his cold eyes flashing at her. “What if I want to buy it all? Everything—horses, land, buildings.”

That shook her. Pushing a wayward strand of hair away from her eyes, she looked around. Sell the Bar D? That old house was where she had been born. She knew every inch of this land, every rise and dip, every scent and sound of it. This was where she had first begun to love Rule, where she had come to know herself as a woman. It would be impossible to sell it.... She opened her mouth to tell him so, but then came the unbidden thought that if she didn’t own the Bar D she wouldn’t have to worry whether Rule wanted her land more than he wanted her. She would know for certain....

If she wanted to know. A sharp pain went through her at the thought that the answer might be more painful than the question. Rule would never forgive her if she sold the ranch.

To Mr. Morris, she gave a forced smile. “That’s a big ‘if,’” she said. “And it’s one that I haven’t considered before. I couldn’t make a snap decision on that.”

“But you will think about it?” he pressed.

“Oh, yes,” she assured him wryly. “I’ll think about it.” It would be hard for her to think about anything else. In a twisted way Mr. Morris had just reversed the roles for her and Rule. Which did she want more, the ranch or Rule Jackson? If she kept the ranch she might never know how he really felt about her; on the other hand, if she sold it she might lose him forever, but she would know exactly where she stood.

It was an offer that she knew would have to be discussed with Rule, though she also knew in advance what his reaction would be. He would be violently opposed to selling the ranch. But he was the manager and he was entitled to know what was going on, even though she dreaded the idea of upsetting him.

She was later than usual in taking his lunch up. First she had been detained by Paul Vernon and Ira Morris; then she was so dusty that she took a quick shower before she did anything else. While Lorna prepared Rule’s lunch tray, Cathryn leaned against the cabinets and wolfed down a sandwich, wondering why Rule wasn’t already calling her. Perhaps he was napping....

He wasn’t asleep. When she opened the door he carefully turned his head to look at her and she was struck by the flinty expression in his eyes. His gaze went slowly over her, taking in her freshly scrubbed appearance from the top of her head, where she had subdued her hair into one long braid, down over her cool sleeveless cotton blouse, faded jeans, and finally her bare feet. Carefully placing the tray on the nightstand, she asked, “What’s wrong? Is your head hurting—”

“I hear you’re considering selling the ranch,” he said harshly, trying to lever himself up on his elbow. The abrupt movement dislodged his broken leg from the cushions where it was propped and he fell back against his pillows with a sharp cry, followed by some lurid cursing. Cathryn leaped around the end of the bed and gently lifted his leg back onto the pillows, bracing it more securely. Her mind was racing. How had he heard about that so fast? Who had told him? The yard and stables had been busy. Any one of twenty men could have overheard the offer to buy the ranch, but she didn’t think that any of them had made a special trip to the house to tell Rule about it. Lewis was in the house a lot, but she knew that at the moment he was in the far south pastures.

“Ricky told me,” Rule snapped, accurately reading her thoughts.

“She made the trip for nothing,” Cathryn replied evenly, sitting down beside him and reaching for the tray. “I was going to tell you myself.”

“When? After the papers were signed?”

“No, I was going to tell you about it while you were eating.”

He angrily waved away the spoon that she lifted to his mouth. “Damn it, don’t try to poke that in my mouth like I’m a baby. This would solve all your problems, wouldn’t it? Get rid of the ranch, get rid of me, make a lot of money to live it up on in Chicago.”

With difficulty Cathryn restrained her impulse to lash back at him. She set her jaw and replaced the tray on the nightstand. “Evidently Ricky also took it upon herself to add a few little details to the original conversation. First, I didn’t agree to sell the ranch. Second, you will be involved in any decision I make concerning the ranch. And third, I’m damned tired of you jumping down my throat, and as far as I’m concerned you can feed yourself!” She got up and stomped out, closing the door sharply on his furious order that she come back.

Ricky stood at the head of the stairs, an openly delighted smile on her face, and Cathryn realized that the other woman had been listening to every word. Her eyes narrowing, she stopped in front of her stepsister and said from between clenched teeth, “If I see you in Rule’s room again, or hear of you being in there, I’ll throw you off this ranch so fast you’ll have windburn.”

Ricky arched a mocking brow. “You will, little sister? You and who else?”

“I think I can handle it, but if I can’t, there are a lot of ranch hands to help me.”

“And what makes you think they’ll side with you? You’re a stranger to them. I’ve ridden beside them, worked with them, been close...friends...with some of them.”

“I’m sure you have,” said Cathryn cuttingly. “Fidelity has never been one of your characteristics.”

“And has it been yours? Do you think it’s such a well-kept secret that you’ve been Rule’s little plaything since you were only a kid?”

Horrified, Cathryn realized that Ricky had probably been spreading her malicious gossip for years. The Lord only knew what the woman had said about her. Then she straightened her shoulders and even smiled, thinking that she wasn’t ashamed of loving Rule. He wasn’t the easiest man in the world to love, but he was hers, and she didn’t care if the whole world knew it.

“That’s right, I have been,” she admitted freely. “I love him, and I’ll keep on loving him.”

“You loved him so much that you ran away and married another man?”

“Yes, that’s right. I don’t have to explain myself to you, Ricky. Just make certain you stay away from Rule, because that was your last chance.”

“Well, Ricky, you can’t say you weren’t warned,” Monica drawled from behind them, her voice amused. “And unless you’re prepared to find a job and start supporting yourself, I suggest that you listen to her.”

Ricky tossed her head. “I’ve helped the ranch hands for years, but I’ve never seen you do anything more than make your own bed. What about you? You live off of this ranch, too.”

“Not for long,” said Monica breezily. “I’ll never find another husband while I’m stuck out here in the sticks.”

Oddly, Ricky turned pale. “You’re leaving the Bar D?” she whispered.

“Well, surely you knew that I wouldn’t stay here forever,” said Monica, mildly puzzled. “The ranch belongs to Cathryn, and it looks as if she’s come home to stay. It’s time I made a home for myself, and I’ve never wanted it to be on a ranch. I tolerated ranch life, but only for Ward Donahue.” She gave a graceful shrug. “Men like him don’t come along too often. I’d have lived in an igloo if that was what he wanted.”