Читать книгу Marriage For Sale - CAROL DEVINE - Страница 9

“Granny Isaacs,” Rachel said, taking solace in the wise old eyes of her mentor, who didn’t seem perturbed at all by Linc’s intimidation. “Will you perform the ceremony?”

“Of course.” With her cane she pointed to a nearby grassy area and Rachel obeyed by leading Linc there.

“Don’t tell me she’s a minister, too?” He snorted.

“The eldest of the elders. The elders advise and minister to us. Do you object to my choice?”

“Just get on with it.”

Granny Isaacs nodded in agreement. “Indeed we shall. Stand side by side, please, and hold each other’s hands.”

Rachel ignored the head shaking of her neighbors and other members of The Community. They’d had much the same reaction when she announced her intention to be sold at the auction. She had heard more than one whisper that she was likely to draw the lowest price ever recorded, that the reason no one wanted to take her in was because of her peculiar opinions and strange ways. Few in The Community were willing to buck the collective wisdom of the many.

Granny Isaacs clasped their hands together with her cool veined and gnarled fingers. “The bonding of man and woman is a sacred event,” she began. “Do both of you understand the meaning of this?”

“Yes,” Rachel said.

“Yes,” Linc echoed, mystified by the unorthodox start to the ceremony. But then, everything these people did was unorthodox.

Linc pushed the incongruous smell of new clover, sight of the clapboard barn and whispers of the onlookers from his mind. The age-old words of the traditional ceremony, however, spoken in Granny Isaacs grave and gravelly voice, weighed on his conscience. He figured if she wasn’t worried about the fact that he was lying through his teeth, he shouldn’t be. But Rachel recited her vows with equal gravity, her blue gaze locked with his, and the resentment he felt at being put in this position pushed him into rushing through his vows without regard to anybody’s feelings save his own.

He waved at Granny Isaacs to skip over the exchange of rings. “No, wait,” Rachel said.

She reached under the collar of her gown and withdrew a braided chain necklace, anchored by two rings. They clinked as she slipped them off the chain, and she offered Linc the smaller of the two. “These wedding bands belonged to my late parents. I’d like you to use my mother’s ring as my wedding band.”

Plain gold, the ring was scratched in many places. Linc sensed it had been worn for a very long time by hands that had done a great deal of work. Still warm from her body heat, the ring clearly had enormous sentimental value to Rachel. He felt awkward taking it. The fact that the bride was providing her own wedding ring proved how surreal this whole situation was.

Rachel held out her hand with graceful expectancy. Slipping the ring onto her finger was an exercise in self will. Linc tried to shake the feeling that her mother must be spinning in her grave.

He realized his choice of ring fingers was incorrect when it was Rachel’s turn. She slipped her father’s ring onto the third finger of his left hand. Her smile reassured him that the mistake didn’t matter. Linc didn’t care to be reassured. What difference did it make if he put the ring on her second finger or her third?

The minute Granny Isaacs pronounced them husband and wife, he said, “Come on, Rachel. We’re leaving.”

He stalked through the gathering who’d witnessed the ceremony, towing Rachel by the hand. She had to have the coldest hands in the history of the universe. Her fingers wove their way between his until their hands were clasped palm to palm. He allowed it, but it annoyed him, as though she were taking advantage of his good graces.

Approaching the truck, she pointed out his new filly.

“You are a fine judge of horseflesh,” she said.

It was a compliment, but acknowledging it felt like a concession to him. Maybe it was her use of the word horseflesh. “Thanks,” he said gruffly.

“What shall we name her?” she asked.

“Not we. I own her. I’ll name her,” he said, more annoyed than ever.

“She’s got the fire of the sun in her chestnut coat and a blinding white blanket. If she were mine, I would name her Summer.”

“What kind of name is that?”

She frowned, obviously bothered by the tone of judgment in his voice. “A perfect name.”

“Fine. Her name is Summer.” It really didn’t matter what the horse was called. She would be sold at a very nice profit once she was fully trained. Linc slapped on a pair of leather roping gloves. “Get in the truck while I load her.”

“I will help.”

She wasn’t asking—she was telling. His annoyance increased tenfold. Who did she think she was? “Wait in the damned pickup,” he ordered.

“Please do not swear at me, Linc. I may be of help. I know horses.”

“I know horses, too. Get in the truck, Mrs. Monroe.”

Rachel put her hands on her hips, but surpressed her frustration. She didn’t wish to create another scene, not minutes after their wedding ceremony. Tapping her foot, she stayed beside the truck, ready to help at a moment’s notice.

She hadn’t realized it before, but the trailer was positioned with its loading door flush against the corral. Linc removed the fence posts that blocked the door, then opened it and pulled down the ramp. It thudded on the damp ground.

Summer stood at the other end of the corral, ears pricked forward in curiosity, her dark tail swishing at the flies buzzing around her bay coat and spotted white Appaloosa blanket. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of the noise and activity caused by the man in the black cowboy hat but, so far, she wasn’t unduly alarmed, Rachel noticed.

Linc paid little attention to Summer at this stage, keeping his eyes averted while preparing the trailer. He tied a rope to the trailer door, which mystified Rachel, but she approved of the generous fork load of hay he tossed in the trailer. By this time of day, Summer would be hungry.

Walking toward the horse, he spoke soothingly. Rachel couldn’t hear the words but soothing or not, Summer took off in a typical fast-paced lope. She balked at the unfamiliar sight of the trailer ramp, but, behind her, Linc waved his hat and his arms. Frightened, Summer had two choices—run over the man or escape into the trailer. She escaped into the trailer. Linc used the rope to slam shut the door before the horse could back out, avoiding any possibility that he might get kicked. A moment later, the ramp was stowed and he was rounding the truck, dusting his hands.

“Why did you scare her so?” Rachel demanded.

“It worked, didn’t it? I want to get out of here.” He opened the passenger door for her and trotted to the other side. Settling in, he gunned the engine and checked the rear view mirror, thankful he caught a break in loading the filly—Summer—fairly easily. Now if he could just get her home without a hitch…that is, if Rachel cooperated. She was still standing next to the truck, waiting to give him more grief, no doubt. “Rachel, for the last time, get in or I swear, I’ll leave you behind.”

She ducked her head, puzzlement on her face. “How do I get in?”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“No, I don’t believe so.”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t been in a truck before?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Twenty-eight years old and you’ve never learned to drive?”

“I’ve been driving teams since I was a youngster,” she offered.

“I take it you mean you’ve been driving teams of horses,” he commented dryly.

“Four in hand and eight in hand. Among those in The Community, I am considered quite good.”

“I bet.” He showed her how to work the handle of the door, then opened it for her. She reached for his arm and gathered her skirt. He boosted her inside the truck, all too aware of his bird’s-eye view of her well-shaped rump. The long dress followed her moves gracefully, including the awkward hiking up she had to do to sit in her seat.

Settling the skirt around her legs, she turned her bright, white smile on him. “Thank you.”

He nodded, rather than reply, refusing to give away the lust he felt. Never been kissed, never been married—what was wrong with the men around here?

Plunking down behind the steering wheel, he checked the rearview mirror, hoping the filly had settled down. No, not the filly. “Summer.” Linc rolled his eyes. “We’ll be heading into the town of Tall Timber first.”

“I expected as much.” Rachel noticed the sure way he handled the steering of the truck. The confusing mix of levers and dials and displays that made up the dashboard unnerved her. The engine roared into life, startling her enough to cause Linc to comment.

“There is nothing to be scared of.”

“Good.” Still she wondered what she had gotten herself into. The answer came in the square male knees and taut thighs encased in blue denim edging her vision. Lean muscle bunched as he pumped the pedals built into the floor of the truck. In the enclosed cab, the back of his hands loomed large and dark. She had just held those hands and been comforted by their strength. But the look of that strength now raised gooseflesh along her arms. He’d better be gentle with her, she thought. He was so much bigger than she.

She jumped as his arm snaked behind her neck along the top of her seat. He twisted to look out the rear window, oblivious, it seemed, to her total awareness of him. He backed the truck out slow and easy and started down the rutted dirt road that would take them directly to the highway. “I was wondering if you might be intimidated about going to town.”

“It is thoughtful of you to mention it. I must admit I am. Most people in my situation would be.”

“There is nothing to worry about. Tall Timber is a nice little town. You’ll get used to living there in no time.”

“Am I mistaken?” she asked. “I thought you owned a ranch.”

“I do. It’s very isolated, though. Believe me, you’ll be better off in Tall Timber. You can make friends and have a regular life.”

“I beg to differ. I am not one for friends, for gossip and socializing.” She removed the roll of money from her skirt and showed it to him. “What I had hoped to do was to turn some of my bought price into smaller bills.”

“They gave you the money I paid for you?”

“It is my stake for the future. I wish to use a small portion for clothes similar to the denim you wear, for working on your ranch.”

“Did you really think I bought you to have you slave around my ranch?”

Her confused expression told Linc that was exactly what she thought. “Let me make myself clear,” he said. “I bought you to free you.”

“Free me from what?”

“Bondage. I want you to be able to live your own life, without other people telling you what to do. You should be on your own, discovering what is important to you.”

“I already know what is important to me. You.”

Linc swore under his breath. “That’s what I mean. You shouldn’t build your life around anybody, especially a man. Your life belongs to you.”

“My life does belong to me in the way that you say. But now I dedicate myself to spending my life with you.”

“I free you from your obligation. Y’see, I’m not interested. The only reason I bought you was to prevent you from being sold to somebody else.”

“I am a good worker, a good companion. I promise to be of much value to you on your ranch. That is the life I most enjoy, the life I know best.”

“Don’t you ever dream of seeing more than a Podunk community in the middle of Montana?”

“Montana is my home. Why would I wish to leave the place where I have found my most profound happiness?”

It was hard to argue with profound happiness. It was also hard to argue with an unsophisticated thinker like Rachel. “Trust me on this, honey. Give Tall Timber a chance. You won’t have to answer to anybody. I’ll walk you through finding a job and a place to live. Then you’ll have a chance to be on your own.”

“You are to leave me alone there?” She sounded shocked and looked it, too, with her eyes widening, making him think of storm clouds moving across a brilliant blue sky.

“Tall Timber is not a big city or anything. Believe me, it won’t be as hard as you think.”

“This is not right. Husbands and wives are supposed to stay together. This is not what I agreed to, when I said my wedding vows.”

“You’re not exactly in a position to refuse.”

“Of course I may refuse. I will not allow myself to be abused in this way.”

“Abused! I’m trying to help you, for God’s sake.”

“For God’s sake? I think not. You aren’t interested in my welfare. You said my happiness is of so little consequence that I should give it up in favor of living among strangers. I return to you my selling price. Please take me back to The Community so I may be sold to someone else.”

“Put your money away, Rachel. You’re not going back.”

“Then take me to your ranch.”

He inwardly counted to ten, all patience gone. He didn’t care how new to the modern world she was; he wasn’t taking her to his ranch. “We’ll take a drive through Tall Timber. You’ll see what a nice town it is. Who knows, you may change your mind.”

“I never change my mind.”

He sent her a sharp glance. “There isn’t a woman alive who doesn’t.”

“Then you have never met a woman like me.”

He gave her a good once-over, but she was staring out the window, ignoring him, which made him all the more impatient with her. What was her problem? She had to recognize the fact that living in town was going to be plenty easier than living with a wild goodol’ boy on a windswept ranch in the middle of nowhere.

If he was going to change her mind, he needed to give her his full and undivided attention. The kind of attention she might not particularly like, but it would definitely change her mind. Without warning, he pulled the truck over to the side of the road.

“Why are you stopping?”

The tiniest bit of alarm flickered in her eyes. Finally, he thought. “Why do you think you can trust me—a man you know nothing about?”

“You are my husband. I trust you because of it.”

“You just met me. Maybe I bought you for the worst of reasons.”

Her expression softened, blossoming into one of complete understanding. “Linc, if you were a man of unsavory character, you would not have bothered to purchase me, a complete stranger to you.”

Such unshakable conviction was going to land her in plenty of hot water if she wasn’t careful. “Maybe I’m not as noble as you think.”

He wound strong fingers around her wrist and guided the tips of her fingers to his mouth. Baring his teeth, he let the edges caress each fingertip. Only it wasn’t a caress. Her whole body stiffened at the flood of sensation. Every pore seemed to ignite, licking her skin like candle flame, leaving moisture in its wake in the same way his teeth left moisture, and his tongue. The tip tickled the pads of her fingers and slid between them, the heat of him equal to the heat breaking out on her brow.

Her heart heated, too, pounding like a hammer on an anvil, singing in her ears. Breathing became impossible, much less speaking. Besides, what was there to say? Every fiber of her being felt fired from within. She scarcely knew what to do, where to look. In spite of the fact that she was seated, support fled her limbs. Most shocking of all was the urge to bring his fingers to her lips and bare her teeth to him as well.

Loath to show her complete ignorance as to how to respond to him, she licked dry lips. The forest color of his eyes, so near, pooled with sudden obsidian.

All breath fled from her then. Suspended by the oddest sense of anticipation, her whole body shivered in awareness of him. And he of her, she instinctively sensed.

His grip on her wrist diminished as his thumb stroked the inner skin. His muscles coiled like her own, readying for what, she didn’t know. But she wanted to find out. Oh, how she wanted to find out.

The sharp bang of hooves hit metal. Rachel jumped, but it was Linc who understood what was happening. He shot from the truck before Rachel could get her limp legs moving.

“Summer!” she gasped.

By the time she levered the door open and leaped to the ground, Linc had slid open the trailer’s paneled window and peered inside. “Damn horse.”

“Is she all right?”

“She’s restless as hell. We better get moving. I don’t want to take a chance on her injuring herself.” Without wasting a moment, Linc grasped Rachel by the elbow and hoisted her into the truck. “You’re going to get your wish, little lady. To the ranch we go. I don’t have time to fool around with you and the filly, too.”

Was that what he was doing? Making a fool of her? she wondered.

Linc was gratified to have finally hit on a strategy that left her speechless, and he filed the information away for future use. He wasn’t sure what was going on in that incomprehensible mind of hers, but he aimed to do whatever was necessary to ensure her prompt departure from his life.

He certainly wasn’t going to let her stay at his ranch. It was a good thing, too. He had no intention of letting this woman get close to him. Normally he didn’t go for the naive type. Rachel, however, presented an interesting combination of traits. Twenty-eight-year-old virgins didn’t grow on trees, especially virgins with her head-turning looks. In fact, he might have questioned the virginity claim—until he had kissed her. Rachel didn’t know how to kiss. She didn’t know how to hide that fact, either, despite her apparent determination to hold onto her poise and ignore the slings and arrows of a bunch of narrow-minded hicks.

Rachel still blushed for heaven’s sake. Her eyes still widened in sensual awareness. Linc felt his own eyes narrow at the prospect of helping her discover where such awareness could lead. He was, after all, a normal, red-blooded American male. Those shallow, excited pants she took when he had kissed her damn near burst the buttons on his jeans.

A stolen moment or two was the only satisfaction he was going to get from this deal, however, and he knew it. The confinement of committed relationships didn’t appeal to him in the least. It was bad enough he had to go through with the charade of a wedding ceremony to get her out of The Community.

Unfortunately, he was getting the feeling that she was taking the marriage bit way too seriously. His work was cut out for him. Even though he had taken great pains before the wedding ceremony to explain his intentions—or lack thereof—he was unsure if Rachel understood how little the wedding vows meant to him. The whole idea of staying committed to one person for an entire lifetime didn’t make sense. Human beings just weren’t built that way. His wild and wooly days on the rodeo circuit proved it—or more accurately, his wild and wooly nights. Harsh experience told him that most women were no more inclined toward fidelity than he was, a lesson he’d learned the hard way.

To spare Rachel the same lesson, he would give her some hints about his true nature. After all, she needed to learn how to handle herself with guys like him before he sent her out in the cold, cruel world.

“How many times have you been to Tall Timber?” he asked.

“None.”

“None?”

“None,” she reiterated, still smarting from the disconcerting thought that Linc was merely fooling around with her.

“Have you been to any other towns?”

“No.”

“Cities?”

She sensed his searching glance and shook her head.

“What about the other members of The Community?”

“Other than health emergencies where specialized doctors are required, traveling outside The Community is simply not done.”

“Don’t people need to buy tools and other farming equipment?”

“Tools and other implements are forged by blacksmiths. What can’t be made is delivered.”

“What about food, groceries?”

“We grow our own food.”

“All of it?”

“What we can’t grow we trade for at the Hudson Valley co-op with our canned goods.” Somewhat mollified by his interest, Rachel relented, expanding her answer. “Our pickled peppers and mint-flavored peaches are in much demand.”

“You can’t preserve all your food. What about refrigeration?”

“The refrigeration you are referring to requires electric power. The use of such power is discouraged in order to maintain the connection to the land and the values of simplicity that go with it. However, I am familiar with gas heat. The elders encourage its use in our homes because the winters in Montana are so long and cold.”

“Isn’t that against the so-called rules?”

“We have adopted some modern conveniences to protect from the worst of winter weather. The safekeeping of the oldest and youngest is of primary importance in all families, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Does that mean you have indoor plumbing?”

“Each farmhouse has an individual pipe which delivers clean water.”

“So old Granny Isaacs has to trot to the outhouse in the middle of winter to take care of business. Is that what you’re saying?”

“The outhouse is out-of-doors for good reason. Would you have it any other way?”

He blew out a great gust of air and tipped his hat back on his head in disbelief. “How old are you again?”

“Eight and twenty.”

“Next time say twenty-eight. Can you at least read?”

“Certainly.”

“You went to school?”

“The Community takes the education of its children very seriously. Of course I went to school.”

“How long?”

“Through the eighth grade.”

“Through the eighth grade,” he repeated, damning the place where she came from once again in his mind. Clearly, she was going to have to learn a lot more about the outside world. She wouldn’t make it on her own otherwise. And right now he didn’t see any alternative but to become her teacher. “For the time being, leaving you in town by yourself may not be the best idea I’ve ever had. You need to learn how to cope first.”

“Learning how to cope with you will be a useful skill indeed.”

He examined her, his green eyes narrow. “Believe me, I’ll teach you everything you need to know.”

Rachel quailed at the thought. Yet also felt exhilarated. Afraid that he might be making fun of her again, Rachel held his gaze. “What do you mean?” she asked pointedly.

“For one thing, get used to the idea that you’ll be moving to town at some point. I figure it may take you a week or two to learn how to cope. If you don’t cooperate—”

“You are my husband,” Rachel replied stiffly. “Of course I shall cooperate.”

“Is that what you’ve been doing for the past hour—cooperating?”

“I have an unfortunate habit of speaking my mind. Forgive me.”

“I want you to speak your mind,” he said, in what sounded to her like exaggerated forbearance. “But you better be listening when I’m speaking about what’s on my mind. Specifically, learning what I want you to learn.”

She placed her hand over her heart in a grand show of her own forbearance. “I swear on my mother’s grave. Or do you wish for me to cross my heart and hope to die?” she asked tartly.

What he wished was for her to stop using those quaint expressions he remembered using as a kid—when he was still playful and innocent. “No,” he retorted. “I want you alive so I can wring your scrawny little neck.”

Rachel clapped her hand over her mouth to keep from smiling too broadly at him. It was one thing to bait a bear—quite another to provoke him. She had made her point. Rubbing it in would accomplish nothing. Removing her hand, she wagged her finger at him. “You are a great one for joshing.”

“The word is joking,” he said, sending her the sternest of glances. “Use it.”

“Joking,” she repeated obediently, though she was having trouble maintaining a reasonably sober expression.

“That’s your first lesson. The next one is to realize that Tall Timber is going to be your future home. I’ll give you until the end of the month to get ready to live there. After that, you’ll be on your own whether you’re ready or not.”

“I understand. However, you shall not regret your decision to take me to your ranch. Thank you.”

“I’m already regretting it, thanks to you,” he groused.

Rachel hid her smile so as not to antagonize him further. Horses, her most favorite of animals, had their own way of grousing, too. They liked to put up a spirited resistance when asked to comply with her wishes. It was their way of reminding her that they weighed far more than she did and possessed lethal power. But her willingness to speak until she was fully heard kept the balance of power intact.

There was little doubt in her mind that though Linc was less than enthusiastic about their marriage, once he understood what a valuable asset she was on his ranch, he wouldn’t want to let her go—either as a help mate or a wife.