Temporary Husband (17 page)

“Even marry me.”

Her smile held a whimsical charm. “That was the easiest decision I ever made. I realized the minute we met that you were the perfect man.”

“Because I could slay dragons.” Shadows concealed his expression, but his voice held a caustic edge.

“Not just that. You were the perfect man because I—”
Because I took one, look and saw you more clearly than you see yourself. Because the moment I looked into
your fierce golden eyes, I fell impossibly, irrevocably in love.
But she couldn’t tell him that, he wasn’t ready to hear it. So she offered the only response he’d find palatable. “I married you because we needed each other. We still do.”

“For a little longer.” His words held a grim warning.

“Jake…”

He released his breath in a gusty sigh. “Let me guess…What part of the evening do you want to hash out? The part about my grandfather? My parents? My untempered pillaging of the women in town?”

“I think we settled the issue of your pillaging, untempered or otherwise,” she replied with a quick grin.

“Thanks to your impassioned defense.”

“Don’t sound so surprised. I know what sort of man you are, even if Randolph doesn’t. I also know that it’s ridiculous to believe you’d resort to force when you could seduce any woman in town with a single look.”

His laughter sounded rusty. “It might take a little more effort than just a look.”

“Maybe.” She cast him a sidelong glance. “But one lesson on how to drive your truck would have overcome any lingering hesitation on their part.”

He shook his head, lounging on his elbow. “No way, sweetpea. You’re the only woman I’ve ever taught to drive a stick shift.” His eyes darkened. “The only woman I’d care to teach, for that matter.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” she admitted with a shy smile. She scooted closer to him, sliding her hand across his thigh. Flames leapt behind the screen, the firelight branding her pale hair with crimson streaks and flickering across the pure planes of her face. “Tell me the rest, Jake,” she urged. “Tell me quickly so it’s off your chest and we don’t have to ever refer to it again.”

“You want to hear all the gory details of my life?”

“Not really. But I suspect you need to tell them to me—for your own well-being.”

He instantly withdrew, the mental barriers slamming into place. “Why would you think that?” he asked coldly.

“It’s all right, Jake. I won’t run screaming in terror once I know your darkest secrets. I won’t turn from you in disgust or treat you with pity. And I certainly won’t sneak into your bed in the middle of the night, then pretend we’re strangers come daybreak.” She paused. “That is why you haven’t told me, isn’t it? Because you weren’t certain how I’d react.”

He sat up abruptly. “Damn you,” he whispered.

“I know,” she sympathized. “You’ve worked so hard to build up your defenses, secured every wall, made sure your fortress is totally invulnerable. Now you have this irritating wife, banging on the castle door and you have to open up and let her in.”

“I
have
to?”

She gave him an impish grin. “Just this once. After that, you can sling her out into the cold and simply ignore her.”

“You’re a hard woman to ignore,” he retorted.

“So you’ve said. Annoying, pesky, tenacious.”

The gold of his eyes rivaled the hot glow of the fire. “And loyal as hell. Okay, wife. You’ve heard most of the sordid details. There’s not much left to the story.” He stood and tossed another log onto the iron grate. “My parents met, fell in lust and had a summer of careless pleasure. Careless because they accidentally conceived me. When my mother found out she was pregnant, she approached my father. Sorry, he said, he’d just gotten engaged to someone else—a socially acceptable someone else—and he’d appreciate it if she’d disappear. To ensure it, my grandfather made it worth her while.”

“He paid her.”

“And thus helped cement her choice of careers.”

“Oh, Jake,” Wynne murmured.

“No pity, remember?” he bit out. “When I turned sixteen she died and I ended up on the streets. By that time, my father had also met an untimely end. His wife had never been able to bear him any children and my grandfather was desperate. Remembering the pregnant girl he’d bought off all those years ago, he came looking for me.”

“And returned to Chesterfield with a furious, resentful teenager.” It wasn’t a question.

“I sure as hell wasn’t the grandson he’d dreamt of having. I despised him for his hypocrisy and made no bones about it. In exchange for my hatred, he gave me all he possessed. Food, clothes, a roof over my head…Everything money could buy, he provided without hesitation. The one thing he asked in exchange I refused to give him.”

It only took a moment’s thought to figure out what Jake had withheld. “Your name.”

He nodded. “For years Grandfather begged me to change it to Chesterfield. But I refused.”

She eyed him shrewdly. “It was the only way you could keep your own identity, to keep that last piece of yourself intact.”

He shrugged. “I was Jake Hondo and calling me Chesterfield wouldn’t change the circumstances surrounding my birth.”

“But you grew to love him, didn’t you, despite what he’d done to your mother?”

He ran a hand across his nape. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I did. He was a proud, lonely man who’d made a lot of mistakes in his life. And not once did he ever try to justify those mistakes or place the blame elsewhere. He
just stood up and said, ‘I’m the one.’ I respected him for that, if nothing else.”

“But you didn’t stay with him, did you?”

He sighed. “I presume you’re asking about Lost Trail.”

“Yes.”

“From the minute I arrived in Chesterfield, I started working and saving so I could buy my own place.”

She nodded in perfect understanding. “That independent streak of yours—never depend on anyone or anything.”

“Something like that,” he agreed. “I got lucky. When I was in my mid-twenties, the neighboring ranch came available and I bought it. It was pitifully small compared to what my grandfather owned, but little by little I acquired the surrounding land until I had a respectable-sized spread.”

“But Dusty said you didn’t stay there, that you moved back in with your grandfather.”

“Not long after I made the purchase, the doctors discovered he had cancer.” He stared at the fire, his face an expressionless mask. “What else could I do?”

“
You
couldn’t have done anything else,” she informed him. “Another person might have been more callous.”

“I’m callous enough. And just so you know how callous…” He gave her a cool, direct look. “I could have brought you here after the wedding. Instead I chose to take you and the boys to Lost Trail. Care to know why?” He didn’t wait for her to answer, just gave her the hard, cold facts. “I didn’t want you to get your hopes up about staying, didn’t want you to get too comfortable living with me. That way there wouldn’t be any regrets when the time came to leave.”

Amusement brightened her eyes. “Do you think when I leave I’ll miss the ranch more than the man?” She’d
set him back on his heels with that one, she realized, stifling the urge to laugh.

“Most women would,” he muttered, then held up his hands. “I know, I know. You’re not most women. Maybe I should write that down so I don’t forget. You have a pen handy?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep reminding you.”

“I don’t doubt it.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Are we done?”

“Just one or two more questions,” she assured. “Tell me about Randolph.”

Jake grimaced. “Randolph’s a couple years older. Until I appeared on the scene, he considered himself the heir apparent, despite his distant connection. It was a nasty shock to discover his error. From the minute I arrived, it became his goal to make my life a misery.”

“And Evie?”

He shook his head. “Sorry, elf. That’s a private matter.”

“No problem. I have a pretty good idea about what happened there.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” he muttered.

He took a quick swallow of brandy, as though screwing up his courage—which was utterly ridiculous. Jake was the bravest man she knew. “What is it?” she asked gently.

His breath escaped in a harsh laugh. “You don’t miss much do you?”

“I try not to,” she confessed with a shrug. “Is there something else you want to tell me?”

“Not tell you exactly. I want to thank you.”

Her brows winged upward. “For what?”

“For tonight.” He leaned closer and cupped her face, his thumb tracing the generous curve of her mouth. “And I wanted to apologize. I should have told you the
true reason for tonight’s gathering. I didn’t because…Because…”

She leaned into his touch. “Because you wanted to protect me from embarrassment.”

He closed his eyes, a muscle jerking in his cheek. “No, dammit. That’s not the reason. It’s the excuse I used, but it isn’t the truth. I was afraid to tell you about that clause in my grandfather’s will. I was afraid of what you’d do.”

She gazed at him in bewilderment. “I don’t understand. You’re not afraid of anything.”

“I didn’t think so.” He looked at her then, holding her with a fathomless golden gaze. “Until I met you. You scare the living hell out of me, sweetpea.”

The words hung between them—simple, brutally frank and utterly devastating. “You’re afraid of
me
?” she whispered, shocked. “
Why
?”

He didn’t want to answer, didn’t want to reveal another chink in his armor. But she deserved his honesty, if nothing else. “You’re the first person ever to believe in me. To offer unconditional trust. You see people so clearly. And yet when you look at me, you see someone I don’t know.” His mouth twisted in a self-deprecating smile. “Don’t you understand? That image, that man you’ve created for yourself isn’t real. And the one who does exist can only hurt you.”

“Then one of us is wrong. And just in case you were wondering…” Her eyes gathered up the firelight, reflecting its fierce heat and energy. “It’s not me.”

It seemed an eternity before he could respond. “What am I going to do with you?” he asked roughly.

The answer trembled on her lips, but she caught the words just in time, altering them ever so slightly. “Make love to me.”

His laughter came easier now. “That shouldn’t be too difficult. I can’t keep my hands off you.”

“I don’t remember asking you to.”

His hand slipped from her cheek to curve around her neck. “Come here.” He exerted the slightest pressure, tumbling her into his arms.

Their mouths collided and their limbs entwined, an overwhelming urgency setting the mating dance into motion. Though he’d taught her the steps well, she’d come into her own over the past weeks, bringing a unique style and grace to the ritual. Completely unselfconscious, she rose to her knees and shed her clothing. She didn’t tantalize, didn’t tease, nor did she display any uncertainty in this moment of utter vulnerability. She simply gifted him with her body, offering herself, heart and soul, without hesitation or reserve. It had always been this way with her.

And it never failed to humble him.

Finally the last of her clothes were removed and she knelt, poised before him. She was made for firelight, he determined in that moment. The glow from the leaping flames licked at the alabaster hillocks of her breasts before melting into the shadowy delta at the juncture of her thighs. He reached for her and froze.

The deep bronze of his hand stood out like a stark blemish against the pale perfection of her skin, the contrast between them as startling as it was unwelcome.

How could she not have noticed? he wondered in despair. She was heavenly light battling hellish darkness, the rich, warm earth fighting the intrusion of stone and brick and cement. She offered the eternal hope of spring during the deepest despair of winter. She was all he could ever want, offering possibilities that could never be his.

“Don’t,” she whispered. He jerked his hand back as though burned and she laughed gently, the sound a welcome balm. “I didn’t mean not to touch me. I meant—don’t think. Don’t analyze. Don’t question it.” She took the initiative, gathering him into her arms.
“Just for tonight, won’t you lock your demons outside? They’re not going anywhere, are they?”

“No,” he conceded, warning, “they’ll still be waiting come morning.”

“Then we’ll worry about them tomorrow.”

She was right. This moment offered a respite between battles, and he’d be a fool not to take advantage of it. With infinite tenderness he rolled them onto the carpet, anointing her with mouth and tongue and teeth. He felt the first flush of desire wash across her skin like a stormdriven tide, and he cupped her breast, the frantic pounding of her heart filling his palm. She twisted beneath him, lifting her hips to mesh with his, moving with all the sinuous grace of a sun-warmed feline.

He tried to go slow, but desire became a rapacious hunger, a demand that turned his kisses hard and urgent and made each caress more aggressive than the last. He reveled in the delicious mix of passionate heat and fluid softness, sinking into her warmth, then driving into it, compelled by a force too powerful to resist. He heard her frantic sobs, responded to the incoherent pleas, wanting more than life itself to give her the release she so desperately sought. He angled her hips upward, melding his mouth with hers. Instantly her muscles tensed in reaction and she exploded in his arms. It was all he needed. With a harsh cry, he drove home, following her over the edge. In that instant, their eyes met.

And what he saw there knifed deep into his soul.

For in those misty green depths he saw love. A permanent love—pure and faithful and absolute. He knew then that she’d given a forever-after love to a temporary husband.

And with that terrible knowledge, the demons came storming back.

J
AKE WOKE
several hours later, struggling to get his bearings in the pitch-black room. His muscles protested the amount of time he’d spent sleeping on the floor and yet he hesitated to disturb Wynne. She lay curled on her side, tucked tightly into the protective curve of his body. The fire had died long ago and a new moon, skulking in the shadow of the earth, ducked between bits of starlight as it traversed the nighttime sky. Gingerly he eased the cramp plaguing his leg.