Читать книгу Hawk's Way: Carter & Falcon: The Cowboy Takes A Wife - Joan Johnston - Страница 7

DESIREE CONCENTRATED ON THE road, which was slick with a layer of ice and difficult to see through the blowing snow. She had been among the last to leave the church, since she had helped with the cleanup. The storm had worsened in the past hour, and Desiree wished she had asked someone to follow her, at least until she got to the turnoff for the ranch. She didn’t want to end up stuck on the road somewhere overnight, although if she ended up frozen to death that would solve the worry of finding a husband.

Beside her, Nicole chattered on happily about the Christmas pageant. Desiree responded to her daughter, but her thoughts were elsewhere. She was mentally kicking herself for being so foolish as to confront a perfect stranger with a proposal of marriage.

“Did you see me, Mommy? Was I a good angel?”

“You were wonderful, sweetheart. A perfect angel.”

Desiree worried her lower lip with her teeth. Why hadn’t she stood firm until she had an answer from Carter Prescott? Because she was afraid, that’s why! But although the ragtag cowboy’s eyes had been cold, they hadn’t been unkind. And while he had towered over her, she hadn’t felt threatened. It had been the fear of rejection, not the fear of physical harm, that had sent her fleeing into the night.

“Did you see me fly, Mommy?”

Desiree smiled at the image of her daughter flapping her angel’s wings. “I certainly did.” She had watched the finish of the Christmas pageant from the shadows along the side aisle of the church, her chest aching with love—and fear. She must find a husband before the new year. Her safety, and Nicole’s, depended on having a man’s presence in the house. If only she had been less fainthearted about confronting Carter Prescott!

“Look at me, Mommy. Look! I can fly even without my wings!”

“Nicole! Sit down, and put your seat belt back on this instant!”

Nicole quickly dropped down on the seat and began hunting for the end of the seat belt in the darkened cab.

Desiree had taken her eyes off the road only for a second, but that was enough. She caught a patch of ice and felt the pickup begin to slide. She turned the wheel into the skid and resisted the urge to brake, knowing that would only make things worse. But she could already see the truck wasn’t going to recover in time to stay on the road.

Nicole gave a cry of alarm as the pickup began to tilt. “Mommy! We’re falling!”

“It’s all right, Nicole. Sit still. Everything will be fine.” Desiree’s heart pounded as the pickup slid sideways off the road into a shallow gully.

The truck thumped to a stop at a sharp angle with the right wheels lodged in snow two feet deeper than the left ones. It took a second for Desiree to realize they really were all right. Nicole whimpered in fright.

Desiree reached over and grabbed Nicole and pulled her daughter into her lap, hugging her tight. “It’s all right, sweetheart. We’re fine. Everything’s fine.”

“We’re going to fall, Mommy.”

“No, we’re not. The truck is stopped now. It’s wedged in the snow. It won’t tip any more.” But she wasn’t going to be able to drive out of this gulley. Which meant that unless she wanted to spend the night in the truck, she was going to have to walk back the two miles or so to the church and call for help.

“You’ll have to wait here for me, Nicole, while I—”

“No, Mommy! Don’t leave me! I’m scared!”

Despite her daughter’s cries, Desiree shifted her onto the seat. “I won’t be gone long.”

“Don’t leave! Please, Mommy.” Nicole clambered back into Desiree’s lap and twined her arms around her mother’s neck.

Desiree hugged her daughter, fighting the tears that stung her nose and welled in her eyes.

She had been on her own for six years. She had gone through her pregnancy alone and had raised Nicole without help from anyone. Forced to cope with whatever life had thrown at her, somehow she had survived. She and Nicole were a family. Sliding off the road wasn’t nearly the disaster that loomed on the horizon. Soon their very lives would be in danger.

So what if she was stuck miles from home in the middle of a snowstorm with her daughter clinging to her neck like a limpet? They, and the truck, had endured without a scratch. There was no reason to cry. But her throat had swollen so thick it hurt to swallow, and she could feel the heat of a tear on her cold cheek.

It wasn’t the accident that was causing her distress, she conceded; it was the knowledge that she had so little control over her life.

Desiree took a deep breath and let it out. She had managed so far to keep things together. She just had to take one step at a time. She retrieved the blanket she kept in the well behind the seat and wrapped Nicole snugly in it.

“Mommy has to call a tow truck to haul us out of here,” she explained to Nicole. “The closest phone is at the church. You need to wait right here for me until I get back. Don’t leave the truck. If you wander off, you could get lost in all this snow. Okay, sweetheart?”

It was a sign of how much more quickly the child of a single parent had to grow up that Nicole sniffed back her tears and nodded reluctant agreement to her mother’s order. There was a risk leaving Nicole alone, but there was even greater risk in taking her out walking in the bitter cold.

“I won’t be gone long,” Desiree promised as she closed the truck door behind her. Desiree wished she had a warmer coat to keep out the bitter wind, but at least she had warm boots. She would be cold when she arrived at the church, but anyone who lived in Wyoming was inured to the harsh weather.

To Desiree’s amazement, she had been walking no more than two minutes, when she saw headlights through the snow. She was afraid she would be lost in the dark at the side of the road, so she stepped out onto the pavement and waved her arms. She knew the moment when the driver spotted her, because the pickup did a little slide to the side as it slowed.

As soon as the truck stopped, she raced to the driver’s window. The door had already opened, and a tall man was stepping out.

“I need help! I—”

“What the hell are you doing out here walking on a night like this? Where’s your car?”

Desiree felt her heart thump when she realized she was staring into the furious eyes of Carter Prescott. “My truck slid into a ditch. I was going back to the church to call for a tow. Can you give me a ride?”

“Get in,” he said curtly.

Desiree raced around to the other side of the pickup before Carter could reach out to touch her.

As he pulled his door closed he said, “It’s doubtful you’ll get a tow truck to come out in this storm. I’ll give you a ride home.”

Desiree debated the wisdom of arguing with him. But she would rather have Nicole safe and warm at home than have to wait with her daughter in the cold until a tow truck arrived. “All right. But I left something in my truck that I need to pick up. It’s only a little way ahead.”

When Carter pulled up behind her truck he said, “Do you need any help?”

“I can handle it.” Desiree was struggling with the door on Nicole’s side of the truck, when it was pulled open from behind her. She whirled in fright—to find Carter standing right behind her.

“I figured you could use some help, after all.”

Desiree took a deep breath. This man wasn’t going to harm her. She had to stop acting so jumpy around him. “Thank you,” she said.

The instant the truck door opened, Nicole came flying out. Desiree barely managed to catch her before she fell. In fact, she would have fallen if Carter hadn’t put his arms around Desiree and supported both her and the child.

“This is the something you needed to pick up?” he asked.

Desiree heard the displeasure underlying his amazement and responded defensively, “This is my daughter, Nicole.”

“You didn’t say anything about a kid earlier this evening.”

“It wasn’t necessary that you know about her until we had reached some agreement.”

“I don’t think—”

Desiree cut him off. “I would rather not discuss this further until we’re alone.” Which was tantamount to a suggestion that they ought to have further discussion on the matter in private, Desiree realized too late.

“All right,” he said.

“You can let go now. I’ve got her.”

He was slow to remove his support, and Desiree was aware suddenly of how secure she had felt with his arms around her. And of being very much alone without them.

She carried Nicole the short distance to his truck. He held the passenger door open, but she found it awkward to step up into the truck with Nicole in her arms.

“Give her to me.” Carter’s tone of voice made it plain he would rather not have handled the child. Before either Desiree or Nicole could protest, he had the girl in his arms.

Desiree had barely settled herself in the truck when Carter dropped Nicole on her lap, shoved her thin wool coat inside and slammed the truck door closed.

“The turnoff for the Rimrock is about five miles ahead on the right,” Desiree instructed.

“I know.”

“How—”

“I drove by there on the way to my grandmother’s. I haven’t forgotten visiting your place when I was ten.”

She watched him rub his thigh and wondered about the bone he had broken so many years ago. “Does it still bother you?”

“Sometimes.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No need to be. It was my own fault.”

He looked sinister in the green light reflected off the dash, not at all like the savior she had sought out in the parking lot of the church.

“What’s your name?” Nicole asked. “Do you know my mommy? I was an angel tonight. Do you want to see me fly?”

Carter’s lips flattened in annoyance.

In the uncomfortable silence that followed her daughter’s questions, a frown grew in the space between Desiree’s brows. Carter’s refusal to answer Nicole was rude—or at least, inconsiderate. Did Carter simply not like children? Or was it just Nicole’s behavior he didn’t approve of?

Carter’s lack of response did nothing to curb Nicole’s curiosity.

“Are you coming to our house?”

“Yes,” Carter replied sharply.

Desiree realized he had probably been curt in hopes of shutting her daughter up. But Nicole wasn’t deterred by Carter’s antagonism. The little girl had learned through dealing with a mother who was putty in her hands that persistence often won her what she wanted.

“Do you want to see my room?”

Carter sighed.

Desiree could see that he wanted to say no. He sought out her eyes, his lips pursed in displeasure. She decided to rescue him from her daughter’s clutches.

“It’s nearly bedtime, sweetheart. You’ll have to wait to show Mr. Prescott your room until some other time.” It was all she could do to keep her own displeasure at the cowboy’s surliness out of her voice.

“Are you going to be my daddy?”

“Nicole!”

Desiree was mortified at the question because she had, in fact, proposed to the man sitting across from her, and because she hadn’t realized Nicole was even aware that she was seeking a husband. The little girl’s next words made it clear that she had thought of the idea all on her own.

“My friend Shirley has a daddy, but I don’t. I asked Santa Claus for a daddy, but so far I haven’t got one. Are you the daddy I asked for?”

“No,” he said in a strangled voice.

“Oh. Well, it’s not Christmas yet,” Nicole said cheerfully. “Maybe Santa Claus will bring me a daddy.”

Desiree was chagrined at her daughter’s outspokenness. However, if she had anything to say about it, Nicole would get her wish, although Carter’s attitude toward Nicole was a matter that needed further exploration before their discussion of marriage continued.

Carter was pleased when they reached the Rimrock ranch house to discover it was just as he remembered it. The two-story frame structure had been built to last by people who cared. Someone had planted pines and spruce around the house, and with the drifting snow it was a scene worthy of a picture postcard.

“Follow the road around to the back,” Desiree said.

Carter didn’t volunteer to carry Nicole from the truck, and Desiree didn’t ask. But halfway to the door, and though it made his stomach clench, he took the little girl in his arms to relieve Desiree of a burden that was obviously too heavy for her.

To his surprise, when he reached for the doorknob, he discovered that Desiree had locked the back door. Most ranches, even in this day and age, were left open, a vestige of range hospitality from a time when homesteads had been few and far between.

“Afraid of the bogeyman?” he asked with a wry grin.

Desiree didn’t smile back. “I have to think of Nicole’s safety.” She stepped inside, turned on the light and held the door for him.

Carter immediately set the little girl down. His heart thudded painfully as he watched her race gleefully across the room, headed for the hall. She turned on the light and kept going. Carter could hear her running up the stairs.

“Make yourself comfortable while I put her to bed,” Desiree said, following Nicole down the hallway that led to the rest of the house. “We’ll talk as soon as I get her down. There’s coffee on the stove or brandy in the living room. Help yourself.” Then she was gone.

Carter hadn’t been in the house before, but he knew the moment he crossed the threshold that this was a home. A band tightened around his chest, making it hard to breathe. This was what he had been seeking. There was warmth and comfort here, not only for the body, but also for the soul.

The kitchen was cluttered, but clean. There were crayon drawings taped to the refrigerator, and a crock full of wooden spoons and a stack of cookbooks sat on an oak chest in the corner. The red-and-white linoleum floor was worn down to black in front of the sink, and the wooden round-leg table and ladderback chairs were scarred antiques. An old-fashioned tin coffeepot sat on the stove. Carter decided he would rather have the brandy.

He followed where Desiree had gone, down a hallway, past a formal dining room, to a combination office and parlor, where a stone fireplace took up one wall and a large rolltop desk took up most of another. A picture window took up the third wall. The fire had burned down to glowing embers, and Carter took the poker and stirred the ashes before adding another log.

A spruce Christmas tree stood in the corner, decorated with handmade ornaments. Above the fireplace, a set of longhorn steer horns a good six feet from tip to tip had been mounted.

Carter looked longingly at an old sofa and chairs that invited him to sit down. He heard a whoosh from the vents as the furnace engaged. As he surveyed the room, he realized that the aged quality he had admired so much in the furniture was as much the result of poverty as posterity. Certainly there were heirlooms here. But there was a shabbiness to the furnishings that could only be the result of limited funds.

Carter felt sick to his stomach. Maybe Desiree Parrish knew more about him than he had thought. Maybe she had come after him because she knew he had the money to restore this ranch to its former glory. He had been married once for his money. It wasn’t an experience he intended to repeat.

He spied the wet bar where he found the brandy and glasses. “Would you like me to pour one for you?” he called up the stairs.

“Please. I’ll join you in a moment,” Desiree called down to him.

Desiree took a deep breath and let it out. She had another chance to persuade Carter Prescott that he should marry her. She had to do everything in her power to convince him that she—and the Rimrock—were a bargain he couldn’t refuse.

She leaned over and kissed Nicole good night. “Sleep tight, sweetheart.” She left a small night-light burning. Not for Nicole. It was Desiree who feared the dark. She had made it a habit to leave a light so she could check on her daughter without the rush of terror that always caught her unaware when she entered a dark room.

Desiree closed her daughter’s bedroom door behind her and hurried across the hall to her own room. She slipped out of her coat, which she hadn’t even realized she was still wearing. But she had turned the heat down before she’d left for church to conserve energy, and it took time for the furnace to take the frost out of the air.

She crossed to the old oak dresser with the gold-framed mirror above it and checked her appearance. This was a heaven-sent second opportunity, and she wanted to look her best. It had become a habit to sit at an angle before the dresser, so only the good side of her face was reflected back to her. She forced herself to face forward, to see what Carter Prescott would see.

There was no way to disguise the scar. It was a white slash that ran from chin to temple on her right side. Plastic surgery would have corrected it, but she didn’t have the money for what would be purely cosmetic work. She put another layer of mascara on her lashes and freshened her lipstick. And she let her hair down. It was the one vanity she had left. It spread like rich brown silk across her shoulders and down to her waist.

She smoothed her black knit dress across a body that was curved in all the right places, but which she knew had brought her husband no pleasure. Desiree forced her thoughts away from the sadness that threatened to overwhelm her whenever she looked at herself in a mirror. She had to focus on the future, not the past. This was her last chance to make a good impression on Carter Prescott. She couldn’t afford to waste it.

But it took all her courage to open the bedroom door and walk down the stairs.

Carter controlled the impulse to gasp as Desiree entered the parlor. It was the first time he had seen her when she wasn’t shrouded in that moth-eaten coat. She moved with grace, her body slim and supple. Her dress hugged her body, revealing curves that most women would have died for. His groin tightened with desire.

He thought maybe his hands could almost span her waist. There wasn’t much bosom, but more than a handful was a waste. His blood quickened at the thought that if she were his wife, he would have the right to hold her, to touch her, to seek out the secrets of her body and make them his.

He wasn’t aware he was avoiding her face until he finally looked at it. His eyes dropped immediately to the brandy in his hands. He forced himself to look again, but focused on her eyes. They were a rich, warm brown, with long lashes and finely arched brows. It was clear she had once been a very beautiful woman. Once, but no more. The scar ran through her mouth on one side, twisting it down slightly.

“Did you pour a brandy for me?” she asked.

Carter realized he was staring and flushed. He welcomed the excuse to turn away, and shook his head slightly, aware he ought to do a better job of hiding his feelings. She had to look at that scar every day. The least he could do was face her without showing the pity he felt. He turned back to her with the drink in his hand and realized she had turned herself in profile, so he only saw the good side of her face. Desire stabbed him again.

He wondered if she had done it on purpose or whether it was an unconscious device she used to protect herself when she was with other people. At any rate, he was grateful for the respite that allowed him to speak to her without having to guard his expression.

Desiree took the drink from him. “Why don’t you sit down and make yourself comfortable?” She gestured to a chair near the fire and sat down across from him on the sofa so he saw only her good side. “I never gave you a chance earlier this evening to respond to my proposal.”

“I was glad for the time to think about what you had to say.” Carter took a sip of his brandy.

“And?” Desiree held her breath, determined to wait for his answer. Her nerves got the better of her. She couldn’t help making one last pitch. “You can see the house is comfortable.” She forced a smile. “And I’m a good cook.”

“Tell me again why you want to get married,” he said in a quiet voice.

Desiree debated the wisdom of telling Carter the real reason she needed a husband. She had always believed honesty was the best policy. When she opened her mouth to speak, what came out was, “I’ve been on my own for six years. Nicole needs a father. I…the winters are long when you’re alone. And I could use a partner to help me do the heavy work on the ranch.

“As you’ve seen for yourself, my face makes it impossible for me to attract a husband in the conventional way. I decided to take matters into my own hands.”

“Why me?”

“Your grandmother speaks highly of you.” She smiled. “And I haven’t forgotten how you saved Boots.”

“Boots?”

“My cat.”

He rubbed his thigh and grimaced. “Right.”

So maybe she didn’t know about his money, Carter thought. She wanted company. And a father for her child. And someone to do the heavy work on the ranch. That made sense. And he could understand why she didn’t trust a man to see beyond the scar on her face. He was having trouble doing that himself, although his body had responded—was responding even now—to the thought of joining hers in bed. She had beautiful eyes. In profile, the scar didn’t show at all. And in the dark…

He would be giving her something in return for something he wanted very badly. Carter knew he could put down roots here. This place felt like a real home. He wanted to make it his. Though Desiree apparently didn’t know it, he had the money to restore the Rimrock to what it had once been, to make it even better.

He wanted to ask her when and where she had gotten the scar on her face, but he figured that could wait until they got to know each other better. Assuming they did.

“I have two problems with your proposal,” he said.

Desiree had been certain he was going to say a flat no, so she welcomed the opportunity to overcome his objections. “What problems?”

Carter’s lips thinned. “I hadn’t counted on the girl. I’d want her kept out of my way.”

Desiree bristled. “This is Nicole’s home. I wouldn’t think of confining her to any part of it to keep your paths from crossing. If you can’t handle the fact that I have a daughter, this isn’t going to work.”

Carter was amazed at how Desiree’s eyes flashed like fire when she was angry. In that moment, her scar made her look like a fierce warrior. He nodded abruptly. “All right.” He supposed it wasn’t necessary for her to keep the child out of his way; he would do whatever was necessary to keep his distance from the little girl.

“And the second problem?” Desiree asked.

“I can’t agree to a marriage in name only.”

Desiree paled. Her heart pounded, and her stomach rolled over so she felt like throwing up. She couldn’t couple with any man, ever again. “Why not?” She forced out the words through stiff lips.

“I don’t plan to spend the rest of my life as a monk. I’d expect my wife to provide the necessary comfort on cold winter nights.”

Desiree flushed as his eyes boldly assessed her body. She found the man she had selected to be her husband quite handsome. But she had learned from bitter experience that a man became a beast when satisfying his sexual needs. She dreaded what he might expect of her. She was certain she had nothing to offer him.

But it would humiliate her to have her husband going to some other woman for his needs. In their small ranch community the talk would be bad enough if he married her. She didn’t want to give her neighbors any more reason to gossip.

“I’m willing to compromise,” she said at last.

“There is no compromise on this,” he said. “Either you’re willing to be my wife or you’re not.”

“I’m willing to be a real wife,” she assured him. “But not until we know each other better.”

Carter’s lips twisted. “How long do you expect that to take?”

“I don’t know.” Desiree looked him in the eye and watched as he stared back, careful not to let his eyes drop to her scar.

“All right,” he said at last. “I accept your proposal.”