Time After Time (9 page)

"Thank you, Slim," she said, smiling. "I'll pretend you don't say that even when I burn the beans or leave the salt out of the stew.''

"No, Slim's right," Trent Howard said, smiling.

His gaze ran over her body in a way that was so obvious, it made her clench her fists. She studied the man who had made her uneasy from the first moment they met. There was nothing on the surface that she could criticize. His blond hair and mustache were neatly trimmed, giving his handsome face an authoritative, moneyed look. The dark suit that fitted his frame like a glove was the best that could be had in this part of the world. No, she decided, there was nothing on the

surface to cause complaint. It was the inner man that she despised and feared.

"You're a wonderful cook, my dear," Trent continued, leaning back casually in the worn wooden chair. "It's just a shame a beautiful woman like you has to spend all her time cooking and cleaning."

"I like it," she said. Although she had tried, she hadn't been able to keep a touch of belligerence out of her voice. Shifting her gaze to her father, she raised one slender eyebrow. "Well, Pa? I haven't heard from you yet. Do you think I'm wasted in the kitchen?"

His eyes didn't quite meet hers, and his smile was nervous. "You know I like your cookin', Leah, honey. But that don't keep me from wishin' you had some help around here. Too much work makes a woman old before her time."

Like Mama, she thought, feeling the pulse throb in her temple. She only wished she could believe that her father regretted all he had put her mother through. But Leah knew better. She also knew that it wasn't hard work that had made her mother grow old too soon. It was a hard man that had done that, the hard man she had married.

"If you're worried about me working too hard, Slim could always take over the washing," she said, smiling at the foreman. "What do you think, Slim? Do you want me to tell you how much starch Pa likes in his Sunday shirts?''

Slim grinned at her. "I think chasin' loco steers don't sound too bad right now."

Leah's father cleared his throat, and Leah intercepted the silent message he sent to his foreman. It told him clearly to shut up for a while.

Leah frowned, wondering what her father was plotting. His tanned, leathery features contained too much innocence. He was up to something that he wasn't sure Leah would like.

Trent Howard stood and smiled at Leah. "After that fine meal, I think I need to stretch my legs. Would you care to take a walk with me, Leah?"

Even as an excuse was forming in her thoughts, her father said, "Now there's a fine idea. Just what you need, honey—some fresh air. No, don't say a word. Fact is, there's something I need to talk to Slim about, and it would be boring for you two young people."

Young people? she thought dryly as she was ushered out the door by her father. Trent Howard had to be forty if he was a day.

The moon lighted their path as they walked across the small, bare yard toward the corral. When they reached it, Trent leaned against the wooden rail and stared down at her.

"There's a real peaceful feel to being around you, Leah," he said gently. "I like that in a woman. As a matter of fact, you're everything I like in a woman."

"That's very kind of you, Mr. Howard," she murmured, feeling uncomfortable under his intense gaze.

He smiled and shook his head. "Don't you think we've been friends long enough for you to call me Trent?"

They had never been friends and never would be, but Leah didn't argue. "Trent," she said politely.

"Sounds good when you say it. You're the quiet kind of woman that makes a man want to say things he wouldn't normally say." Sadness flitted across his handsome, dishonest features. "I've been a widower for a long time now, Leah. After a while, a man gets lonely for female companionship."

Leah kept her expression blank. She didn't remind him that he had been a widower for exactly three months. Or that, according to gossip, several females in town had had his constant companionship both before and after his wife died.

Those were things she wanted to say. What she actually said was, "We all miss your dear wife.. .Trent."

"Yes," he said irritably, as though it was plain bad manners for her to have mentioned his late wife. Then, like a snake shedding a useless skin, he shrugged off the mood and picked up her hand.

"Leah," he said firmly, "I'm a man who likes to put all his cards on the table. I've got a lot to give a woman. But then, I don't suppose I have to tell you that. The name Trent Howard means something in this territory. A wife of mine would never want for anything."

Except maybe a little tenderness and humanity in her husband, Leah thought, feeling anger well up inside her. How well she remembered the nervous, frightened face of the late Mrs. Howard. And even a man with Trent's power couldn't completely quell the rumors about Sarah Howard. Rumors that said her

death had not been an accident, as Trent and his handpicked officials had claimed.

And now, she thought tightly, apparently with her father's blessing, this mean, cold-blooded man had decided Leah would do for his next marital victim.

When she didn't respond, Trent frowned. "There are plenty of women in the territory who would jump at the chance of being my wife. But I don't want any of them, Leah. Since the first time I saw you, I knew you would be the next Mrs. Trent Howard."

"Really?" she said, glancing away from him. "Since we met four years ago, it seems a little strange that you were thinking about your second wife before you'd gotten rid—that is, while you were still married to your first."

He sighed heavily. "Sarah was never the woman for me. Our marriage was a mistake. I didn't realize how big a mistake until I met you. Of course, I had no hope that you would actually be mine. If that tragic accident hadn't taken Sarah from me, I would still be her faithful, devoted husband. But even that wouldn't have stopped me from thinking about you." He smiled, tightening his fingers on her hand. "Don't you know what I'm saying? I'm asking you to be my wife."

He waited in expectant silence. Leah pulled her hand out of his, slowly wiping it on her skirt as she met his eyes. "No, thank you."

It was a moment before he took in what she had said; then surprise and anger flared in his brown eyes. "What do you mean, 'No, thank you'?"

"I mean I am aware of the great honor you do me in asking me to be your wife, but I must decline."

His eyes narrowed, as though he were working out a puzzle. Then he stood up straighter, in a deliberately intimidating movement. "Your womanly modesty becomes you, my dear, but I'm not a man for games." The words were clipped and hard. "I will arrange the wedding for next week—now go in and tell your father the good news."

"I also dislike games," she said calmly. "There's no need to tell Pa anything, because there will be no wedding."

His face reddened in rage. "You force me to be blunt. With or without your consent, you'll marry me."

She studied his features. "Blunt? Very well, let's be blunt. I wouldn't have you if you came postage paid and gift wrapped in shiny paper. I don't love you—I don't even like you. I believe you either killed your wife or made her so miserable that she took her own life just to get some peace. I believe you are solely responsible for Paul going to prison for a robbery he didn't commit just so you'd get your hands on his ranch." She paused, inhaling deeply. "Marry you?" she said, her voice filled with contempt. "I'd rather lie down with a rattlesnake."

"You bitch," he ground out, grasping her upper arm with cruel fingers. "By God, you'll pay for that once we're married. And what's all this about Paul Gregory? Have you been seeing him?"

Leah bit her lip. "This has nothing to do with Paul," she said nervously. "I'm simply trying to make you understand that I could never respect a man of your character."

"I don't give a damn for your respect. And you will marry me." Suddenly a strange, smug look came into his eyes and he was calm again, but when he smiled he was no longer pretending to be pleasant. "Before you say any more, you'd better go inside and talk to your father."

"What does my father have to do with this?" Her mouth had gone dry. He was too confident. What had Pa done now?

"Your father has had several bad years," Trent said, still smiling. "He would have gone under if I hadn't loaned him the money to get back on his feet again." He paused, watching her closely as he drew out the tension. "I can call in that loan any time I damn well please."

"You're lying," she whispered. "He wouldn't have done anything so stupid."

"You think not? Go ask him."

Whirling around, she ran back to the house. She shoved open the door and stood there, her breathing erratic. The two men at the table looked at her in surprise.

Without preamble, she said, "Did you borrow money from Trent Howard?"

Her father looked startled; then he glanced away, avoiding her eyes. "What kind of bee do you have in

your bonnet now?" he grumbled. "You wear a man out—always takin' off in fits and starts."

"Answer me, damn you!"

He stood up abruptly, knocking the chair over in the process. "Don't you talk to me like that, missy. I'm still your pa. What I do with Bar R is my business." He shifted uncomfortably under her accusatory stare. "Trent Howard saved my neck—and yours, too, if you want to know the truth of it."

"And now I'm supposed to marry a man I don't love just because you've been stupid?" she asked incredulously.

"Hold on, now." He took a step toward her, while Slim shrank back in his chair, as though trying to disappear. "It's time you had a family of your own," her father said coaxingly. "There ain't no better catch in the territory than Trent Howard. You oughtta be proud that he picked you."

His smile died, and perspiration sprang out on his forehead as he studied the stubborn set of her chin. Raking a hand through his thin hair, he said, "Leah, honey, you got to marry him. You got to do it, or I'll lose everything."

She held on to the door handle to keep from swaying. "What kind of father are you?" she whispered hoarsely. "How could you try to force your own flesh and blood into such an abominable agreement? It's cruel. It's selfish." Standing up straighter, she frowned at the two men. "Besides, it's so trite."

"Beg pardon?" her father said, watching her warily, as though she had finally gone off the deep end.

She sighed and began to pace back and forth in the small room. "Unless I marry Trent, he'll call in the loan and we'll lose the ranch," she said. "It's so...so unimaginative. You might as well have lost me in a poker game."

"Miss Leah!" Slim's voice was shocked. "You know your pa don't gamble."

"Oh, never mind," she muttered irritably. After a moment she turned her head and met her father's gaze squarely. "You're an old fool," she said.

For a moment she felt worn down by sadness. Her father had never really loved her. When it came to a choice between her and the land, he hadn't even hesitated. His daughter was nothing more than expendable goods, a down payment on the only thing he really loved.

Turning away from the sight of her father, she saw Trent standing in the doorway, his features smooth with satisfaction. "Are you ready to talk now?" he asked politely.

She passed him without a word and walked back toward the corral. She had taken only a few steps when he caught her by the arm and swung her violently around to face him.

"Let's get something straight right now. I don't stand for temper in my women." He pushed his hand beneath her hair, grasping her neck with hurtful fingers. "Now's as good a time as any for me to show you who's boss."

"Don't be stupid," she said sharply. "Pa might want me to marry you, but he won't stand by and see me abused."

"Your father will do whatever I want him to," he said, his iron fingers pulling her closer.

"No!" She pushed at his chest with all her strength, but her struggles were useless. Dragging breath into her lungs, she screamed, and the sound rose around them, piercing the air. Then, abruptly, her desperate cry was smothered by his mouth.

She hated it. It was wrong, so wrong. It wasn't a kiss; it was a
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physical intrusion on her rights as a human being. This act of violence was a world away from the gentle, loving caress she had received from Paul. The tender flesh of her lips was ground cruelly against her clenched teeth. When she felt his tongue probing, violating her, an uncontrollable shudder of revulsion racked her limbs. He dug his fingers deeply into her neck, but still she refused to, unclench her teeth. Though panic numbed her mind, she knew she had to fight him, even if he beat her senseless.

"You stubborn bitch," he rasped out. Twisting his fingers in her hair, he jerked viciously. "Open your mouth."

I won't faint, she told herself. I won't let him see weakness in me.

Unclenching her teeth, she allowed him to push his tongue in slightly, then she bit him. He swore, shoving her away with enough force to make her stumble. Breathing harshly, Leah began to back away from the look in his eyes.

He's going to murder me,
she thought. He's going to kill me like he killed Sarah.

She saw her father and Slim on the porch, but now Leah knew there would be no help from them. Pa would see her raped in his yard if it meant he could save his land, and Slim would do whatever her father told him to do. An instant of despair weakened her; then she raised her chin, her eyes flaring. Whatever happened, she would not allow her weakness to aid Trent Howard's victory.