Читать книгу The Cowboy and the Princess - Myrna Mackenzie - Страница 8

CHAPTER THREE

DELFYNE had gone online and ordered some “ordinary-woman” clothes, but two days hadn’t been enough time for them to arrive, so this morning she opted for the least glamorous things she owned. The pale blue slacks and white silk blouse weren’t exactly casual, but they would have to do.

She delved into her jewelry box and came up with what she wanted. “Finally! A chance to wear these!” She placed the yellow, blue and white bangle bracelets on one wrist and the cute bracelet with the gaudy pink elephant charms on the other.

Then she slipped bone-colored ballet flats on her feet and ventured out into the house, wandering the massive hallways. This was very much a man’s house. Everything was big and spare with clean lines and no frills. Golden wood was everywhere.

There was art on the walls. Expensive art, she noted, but no personal items. No photographs, no mementos of any type. And most of the rooms looked as if they were seldom used, which was probably the truth. Altogether there was little here to tell her about her host, about the man.

She knew some things, of course, the little that Andreus had told her in the past or had felt she needed to know now. Owen had once had a wife, a gorgeous blonde he’d met in college. They’d married and he’d taken her back to the family spread. Eventually, they’d had a son who had died of Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. Then the marriage had dissolved. That was all Delfyne knew other than the fact that Owen was very rich. He’d spent his alone time doing more than just building this house. He’d invested his money in a mix of risky ventures and conservative stocks and had earned a fortune. But he seldom left the ranch. Andreus had tried to get him to visit their palace on Xenora several times to no avail, other than that one trip when the two of them had been in college. So Owen was a man of mystery.

And now he was her man of mystery, temporarily.

Delfyne’s breath caught at the expression. She knew better than to have those kinds of thoughts. Much as she wanted to have some adventures, she didn’t want to have romantic ones. Already she’d learned that being a princess—an impetuous princess—had its downside. Men had taken advantage of her and misread her enthusiasm for life as something more. The fact that she was destined eventually to marry a royal and couldn’t ask for a commitment had encouraged the few men she’d known to try and take advantage of her. So no, no man of mystery for her. No men at all in a romantic sense.

The fact that Owen was rugged and good-looking with fierce, compelling eyes had to be immaterial. He was her host, no more, and he was a reluctant host at that. He didn’t like having her foisted on him.

That was probably why, during the two days she’d been here, she’d barely seen him at all. When she got up in the morning, he was gone. Apparently he ate his meals elsewhere, and she had no idea when he came in or what he did all day.

What she did know was that her glorious plans for independence were fading away. She’d spent the two days alone or bugging Lydia Jeffers just so she would have someone to talk to. Lydia, while she was a very nice woman, had work to do and she seemed suspicious of who and what Delfyne was.

None of this was getting Delfyne what she wanted—a taste of real life.

Something had to happen soon. Something good and exciting and different. The hourglass held only so much sand and once she returned to Xenora, her life would never be her own again. Not a minute of her time here could be wasted.

“So, that’s it, then. Owen may not like having me here, but I won’t be locked away in the house reading books and eating bon bons. The man is just going to have to put up with me,” she declared to the empty walls. Pushing open the door, she wandered out into the green and misty morning.

Immediately, her bodyguards, Theron and Nicholas, stood up from where they’d been sitting. She waved them away. Yesterday she’d explained to them their role as greenhorns trying a taste of ranch life, but they didn’t seem to be getting into the spirit of things.

“Go. Do something,” she said.

“What?”

“I don’t know. Eat.”

Theron laughed. He sat down again. She ignored him and continued on her way.

The scent of growing things and something animal filled her nostrils and she breathed in deeply, acclimating herself to the unfamiliar. This was the perfume of life, not the palace.

Staring around her, Delfyne took in the endless miles of land, the buildings that were clearly not living space and a number of big, hulking, unfamiliar vehicles.

She smiled as Jake and Alf, two of the ranch dogs, ran around barking as if vying for her attention, jumping around so much that Alf nearly stepped on the paw of a little orange cat that came too close.

“You two behave yourselves,” she ordered affectionately, scratching Jake behind the ears. “And watch where you’re walking. You nearly squashed this little guy.”

Indeed, the cat was limping slightly, but when Delfyne tried to pick him up he gave her a look that said, “I’m a rough tough ranch cat. I don’t need coddling,” and continued on his way.

She knew the cats here had no names. They were working animals, not pets, and there were too many of them. “But I’m calling you Tim,” Delfyne announced to the cat’s retreating back. “As in Tiny Tim.”

Her parents would have groaned. Her father in particular had worried about her tendency to request bedtime stories with happily-every-after endings. He’d taken to giving her warnings about the tales, telling her that in the original story of The Little Mermaid, the heroine had not married her prince, and that in her favorite Xenoran legend, King Vondiver, the hero, had given up his crown to pursue his love of a common woman and had suffered a terribly alarming, sad and lonely ending. Surely she didn’t want to end up like that.

Her parents needn’t have worried. Delfyne knew that stories weren’t real, and she had absolutely no desire to have her life turn out like the endings of those tales. She just liked hearing them. Vondiver’s story in particular always left her misty-eyed.

“Getting teary over a silly story can be downright embarrassing, Tim,” she said.

The cat continued to ignore her, and Jake and Alf had already run off, attracted by something else.

“On my own again,” Delfyne said with a sigh. “But I refuse to feel sorry for myself. Princesses don’t. When we find ourselves in less-than-ideal circumstances, we do something about it!

“So stand tall,” she said, quoting from that ever-present supply of lessons that had been fed to her as a child.

Some princesses might take that a step further and take action, she thought. Okay, that had never been part of her lessons. It was from her own personal, flawed guidebook…which meant she was on the verge of doing something ill-advised. “But I have to do something,” she muttered.

She looked around again. Owen was nowhere to be seen, so Delfyne continued on toward one of the large structures. Was it the barn, perhaps? She had no idea, but she wasn’t about to be deterred now that she’d made up her mind to escape the house. She was almost to the door when she heard a rustle and a shout.

“Damn it, Ennis, stop messing around and get over here and help me!”

That was unmistakably Owen’s voice. It was coming from the structure next to this one. Delfyne didn’t hesitate. She followed Owen’s voice, slipping inside the building.

What she saw stopped her in her tracks.

There was Owen, all broad shoulders and lean hips, his damp shirt plastered to his body as he bent over a cow that had its head in some sort of contraption. He shook his head toward the man standing beside him. Ennis, Delfyne assumed.

“Get Len. We’re going to have to operate,” Owen said. “This calf isn’t coming, even with the chains. And when you get back, wash up. Make sure this area is disinfected. Come on. Hustle. She’s suffering.”

His words brought Delfyne’s attention back to the cow, which did appear to be in serious distress. And that contraption…

A small sound escaped Delfyne, and Owen looked up. A curse word escaped him.

“Go back to the house,” he told her.

His tone brooked no opposition. She bit her lip.

“What are you going to do to her? That machine doesn’t look comfortable.”

Was that a growl? “It’s not, but it’s necessary so she doesn’t hurt herself or kick out and kill one of us while we help her. Now go. You don’t belong here.”

“Will she be all right?”

He grimaced and started to answer. She was pretty sure he wasn’t going to offer her any platitudes, but she’d never know that for sure because a man shrugging into a pair of pristine coveralls came loping in at that moment and started barking orders. He must be the vet.

“Ready, boss?” the man asked.

“She’s yours, Len,” Owen answered, but he didn’t move away. Instead, he deftly assisted the man, following Len’s orders quickly and efficiently, as if he’d done this hundreds of times before.

“She’s bleeding too much,” Len said. “Give me the hemostat. Come on. Quick. Quick, dammit.”

Owen slapped the object in the man’s hand and Len went to work. There was so much blood.

Delfyne felt light-headed and weak. She reached for the wall and tried to stay quiet. Apparently unsuccessfully, because Owen swore and started toward her. “You look like you’re going to faint. I’m getting you out of here now.”

But when he moved toward her and away from the cow, Delfyne realized that the animal might not survive because “the princess” had drawn Owen’s attention and hands away from the task at hand.

“No. No, I’m all right. Go help.” She motioned him back, gulping in air. Her voice was shaky but she remained standing.

He hesitated.

“Owen!” Len was yelling.

“Go!” Delfyne yelled, too. She had a crazy urge to say, “I command you,” even though she’d never said that in her life.

Without another word, Owen returned to his place with Len and the distressed creature. Side by side, the two men barked orders at each other and worked in concert, a team that had obviously done this together before.

They made another incision and eased out the calf. Owen checked it over and gently laid it aside. Then he turned back to its mother. Based on the men’s brief, guttural exchanges, Delfyne caught the merest hint of what was happening. Antibiotics were involved. She heard the word antiseptic. Stitches were made. Finally, Ennis took the apparently healthy calf away and then came back for the woozy, tipsy but on-her-feet mother, promising to keep watch over both of them. He glanced at Delfyne, a question in his eyes, but he said nothing.

Len was obviously less cautious about asking questions. After washing up and changing his coveralls for a clean shirt, he came over and held out his hand, flashing her a devilish smile that she was sure he reserved for women he was interested in. “Well, hello there, pretty mystery lady. You must be one of the visitors we were told about. I’m Len Mayall. And you’re…”

“None of your business, Len.” Owen’s words were quiet but firm as he came up behind them. He had shed his shirt and put on a new one but he hadn’t had time to button it yet. Delfyne tried not to notice what a fine, muscular chest he had, but her fingertips tingled. And he had said—

Delfyne frowned sternly and gave Owen a pained look. “I’m Delfyne,” she said.

Which clearly wasn’t what Len had wanted to know, by the questioning look he gave Owen. Now she got it. He wanted to know what her relationship to his boss was.

“Yes, I’m a visitor,” she said with a smile. “I’ll be staying for quite a while.”

Len’s eyebrows rose. “I see.”

Owen moved closer to the man who had been wielding a scalpel moments before. He had deferred to Len then, but now he towered over him. There was no question who was the boss.

“No, you don’t see. Delfyne is—”

Uh-oh, Owen was going to say “a princess,” wasn’t he? Or something of that nature. Because he wanted to make it clear to Len that he was not romantically linked to Delfyne.

Delfyne couldn’t let him say that. “Owen was kind enough to take me in when I needed a place to stay,” she said, rushing in. Which still didn’t seem to do the trick. Len’s eyes opened even wider.

He looked at Delfyne’s expensive clothes. “Pardon me, Delfyne, but if you’re from around these parts, I’ll swallow my scalpel. You’re just too darn beautiful for me to have forgotten you. So where in the universe did Owen find you? And are there any more like you? You say he…took you in?” His tone was incredulous.

Delfyne blinked. Yes, she supposed that did make it sound as if she’d been plucked from the streets. Owen’s brows drew together in a scowl.

“Len,” he said, his voice low and gravelly and cool. “You’re a fine veterinary student and a good hand, and you know that I would be hard-pressed without you, but right now you’re skating on ice so thin I can hear it cracking beneath your feet. Delfyne is a friend, a new one, and I’d prefer that you not act as if your mother never taught you any manners by asking her a lot of nosy questions.” Owen paused, his hands on his hips, his scowl deepening. “The truth is that Delfyne wanted to see some of the world, and she’s never been to Montana. She and her friends Theron and Nicholas will be visiting for a few months. As to where their home is, that’s none of your business. I don’t like having my guests interrogated. I also don’t like them to be talked about…by anyone. I hope I’m clear on that.”

Len held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Got it, Owen. You’re right. I was out of line, ma’am,” he said, backing away but not looking all that sorry. “I’ll just get my sorry rear out of here before I get fired. Morgan and a couple of the boys will disinfect everything here, boss,” he said. “You see to your guest.”

But as she and Owen walked away, she could swear she heard something very low that sounded like “A few months?”

She glanced back over her shoulder and saw that Len was grinning. “By the way, nice meeting you, Delfyne. Your secret, whatever it is, is safe with me, but I have to tell you, you’re the prettiest guest this ranch has had in…oh, just about forever.”

When she turned back around, Owen was striding away, his white shirttail flapping around his hips. She ran to catch up with him. When she drew even with him, she could see that his mouth was drawn into a thin line. His jaw looked granite-hard.

“I came in at a bad time, didn’t I?” she asked. “And I embarrassed you with your friend.”

He turned that ice-blue stare on her. “Len is a pain in the—he’s a pain, sometimes. But he’s a good vet, or he will be when he finishes his training. He knows he’d have to do something pretty heinous for me to fire him, and he likes mouthing off. He especially likes women,” he pointed out.

“I could tell.”

Owen chuckled. “I’m sure you could. I’d like to see Len’s eyes roll back in his head if he found out he was trying to flirt with a princess. That would shut him up.”

“Don’t be so sure. Sometimes knowing a woman is forbidden brings out the worst in men.”

Owen studied her carefully. “I don’t intend for you to see the worst side of any man around here. I owe Andreus a great deal. Letting his little sister be harassed isn’t in the cards while you’re here. I’ll keep Len away.”

She frowned. “You don’t have to. Len seems harmless.”

Owen’s frown intensified. “If he thinks he can get you into bed, he’ll use all the charm he has to do it. Women tend to fall for Len. Sometimes I think that’s why he’s taking so long to finish his training. Not being licensed yet leaves him with more time for his love life. None of those middle-of-the-night calls that full-fledged veterinarians get.”

“You think I’d be susceptible to someone so obvious?”

“I think I don’t know you at all, so I can’t answer that. I do know that friend or not, Len’s just the kind of man Andreus would want me to protect you from.”

She raised her chin.

To her consternation he smiled.

“What?” she asked.

“Your identity may be a secret, but your manner is purely royal.”

“I’ll have to work on that, then. My manner…these clothes… Len knew I didn’t fit in, and I don’t. I want to become part of the woodwork, to be a part of my surroundings.”

“Sort of an experiment,” he suggested.

“No. A life experience. I want to immerse myself.”

“Well, you certainly got a good start with what happened back there with that cow and her calf.”

“It was…interesting.”

He laughed out loud then. “Did they teach you diplomacy before you learned how to walk? You nearly fainted. And…I understand your desire to have some fun and live a little before you get on with your life, but Andreus must have taken leave of his senses. This is no place for someone like you.”

And even though he was right in some ways— this ranch was not the place she would have chosen to spend this summer—Delfyne couldn’t help but bristle a bit.

“I didn’t faint. I’m not just fluff.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You implied it.” She couldn’t keep the slight edge and the hint of hurt from her tone, and to her surprise he reached out and gently grasped her chin.

“I guess I did, and I’m sorry about that. Len would tell you that I’m more of a pain than he is, and I guess I’m the one who should be told off for having bad manners instead of him, because no, you didn’t faint.”

His hand was warm against her skin, his touch was doing terrible, wonderful things to her senses. As if he suddenly realized his effect on her, he released her. “Timing is important when life hangs in the balance. The fact that you sent me back to work enabled us to get the job done, for which I’m grateful, but that doesn’t change things. It doesn’t mean that I think this is a good place for you. And yes, I can be silent about who you are, but I can’t ignore it.

“This is a ranch, Delfyne. It’s a big ranch and a prosperous one, but even the biggest ranches revolve around cattle. Animals. Heavy, dangerous machinery. There’s a lot of dirty work, some blood, a ton of sweat and a fair amount of muck. Most of my men are regulars, but sometimes for the short term there are rough, transient workers about, and there are plenty of things a woman like you wouldn’t ordinarily be exposed to. I can’t like that. What were you doing out there, anyway?”

She hesitated. Her first instinct was to say that she had spent two days alone and wanted company. But that sounded a whole lot like, “I’m bored,” the whining of a pampered princess.

“I need to do something,” she said instead.

“In the calving shed?” Was he smiling? Was he laughing at her? Somehow the thought didn’t offend her. It cheered her up.

She laughed. “Oh, is that what you call that place? I had no idea. Will the cow and her baby be all right?”

She expected him to say yes automatically, the way people did. “Probably,” he said instead. “Len is careful but there’s always the danger of infection. One of the men will check in on the two of them round the clock tonight.”

It occurred to her that in his line of work he probably saw a lot of sickness and more. “Did you ever…I don’t know…keep one of them? Name it?”

He stopped and faced her, his shirt still hanging open, his bare chest gleaming in the sun. For a second she felt faint again and she fought not to sway. “This is a ranch, Delfyne. It’s not smart to get attached. I don’t get attached. I know the rules and I always live by them.”

She was pretty sure that he was talking about more than cows. She also knew that he was being smarter than she was, but she was going to be here for several months. This situation—living alone with nothing to do—was unacceptable.

“I need to do more than lounge around reading,” she said. “You may think that’s what—” she glanced to the side “—princesses do,” she whispered. “But I’m not that useless.”

“All right.” He placed his hands on those lean hips. “What kinds of things are you used to doing?”

She thought about that, about the charities and the school and library openings, the things she was good at and would continue to be good at for the rest of her life. But…

Delfyne shook her head. She didn’t want to tell him what she did, because she was sure that he would consider it to be inconsequential. The hilarity of that—that a princess should be concerned that a commoner might not think well of her—didn’t escape her, but it didn’t change the truth, either.

She wanted Owen Michaels to respect her. She hated the fact that he considered her a bit of a pest, an obligation, his friend’s annoying little sister who had been foisted on him. She knew now that he would never send her elsewhere. His sense of duty to her brother was too great. But neither would he be happy until he had carried out his duty and sent her back to her family. He wanted her gone…preferably yesterday.

Anger rose up within her. Wanting a man to like her had gotten her into major unforgettable, never-get-past-it trouble before. She wouldn’t play that role again, and she wouldn’t ever allow a man to make her cower and cringe and beg again.

So, she stepped closer to him. She dared to do what she wouldn’t have done a few minutes earlier. She placed her hand on his bare chest.

It had been meant to be an imperious gesture, a way of showing that she was beyond being affected by him and a way of emphasizing what she was about to say. Instead, instant heat pulsed through her body and it was all she could do to keep herself from leaning toward him. She could feel his heartbeat beneath her fingertips, strong and solid and powerful. There was something very masculine about it, and something much too personal about what she was doing. But if she pulled away too quickly, he would know that he had unnerved her.

“I just want you to know that I’m not going to play the part of the prima donna, lounging around drinking champagne, eating chocolates and giving air kisses to everyone.” She fought to keep the angry edge to her words, to hold on to what she hoped would pass as imperiousness that could not be denied.

“Air kisses?” His hand covered hers, and now her own heart was thundering.

“You know,” she said, losing the battle, her voice coming out soft and strangled. “Where you bring your face close and pretend to kiss someone but you really don’t?”

Now he smiled. “I know what an air kiss is. I just… Do you really think that I believe you do all those things? You don’t, do you?”

Slowly, she shook her head. “Hardly ever.”

“So you’re going to continue not to do those things you don’t do, anyway. Delfyne, I have absolutely no experience with princesses, so tell me…what are you going to do? What do you want to do?”

“Everything,” she said. And for some reason she couldn’t explain, she looked at his lips. Longing washed over her, and she knew darn well that it was completely wrong. The one thing she knew she wasn’t going to do was develop a crush on Owen Michaels. Or on any man, for that matter. But especially not this one. He would hurt her. She knew that…so clearly.

It was that thought and only that thought that enabled her to step back and away from him.

“Just so you know,” she told him. “I want to do everything.”

For several seconds he said nothing, but his eyes said it all. He was not a happy man.

“Define everything,” he finally said.

But she had had enough. Besides, she didn’t have a clue about the specifics of what she had meant.

“I’ll make it up as I go along,” she said.

“Don’t make me regret saying yes to Andreus’s request,” he said.

Which was the perfect thing to break the tension. Delfyne laughed and headed for the house. “Too late. I know that you’ve regretted it from the start, haven’t you?”

He didn’t answer, and for some reason that fact was still bothering her hours later.