Читать книгу The Parent Plan Part 2 - Paula Riggs Detmer - Страница 8

Cassidy Sloane stood by the wide double doors of the foaling shed and watched the taillights of Dr. Paul Caine’s pickup disappear into a wall of rain.

The pastures would be soup, he thought, turning toward the light and the chores that still needed doing. The sudden motion sent a wave of dizziness sweeping over him, and he staggered. Reaching out a hand, he steadied himself against the barn’s rough exterior.

Pain shot up his shoulder, a reminder of the agonizing, long hours he’d spent fighting the dying mare’s spasming muscles, trying to turn the foal before its delicate bones were crushed. In the end it hadn’t mattered.

Golden Girl was gone. And so was her foal.

“Boss, you feelin’ okay?” Billy and one of the younger hands who’d been helping stepped quickly to his side.

Cassidy offered his ramrod a curt nod. “Just catchin’ my breath before I finish cleaning up.”

“Why don’t you go on in and let me’n Randall here do the cleanin’?” Billy suggested, pulling a cigar from the pocket of his filthy shirt.

It was tempting, but Cassidy made himself refuse. Instead, he stepped away from the wall and took a testing breath. The dizziness was gone. In its place was a heavy lethargy that was almost as bad.

“You go on home, the both of you. I already owe you enough overtime to damn near bust me.”

“Hell, boss, I’m already into you for two months’ advance,” Billy drawled, striking a wooden match on the wall behind him. “Don’t make me no never mind if you pay me extra for tonight, anyway,” he said between puffs as he fired his smoke to life.

“Me, neither,” Whitehorse added, sweeping off his Stetson with a weary hand. “Got me no place to spend my money nohow.”

Billy snorted. “The hell you say. I thought you had plans to escort Wanda June to some big dance at the high school next month.”

“She got herself in a tangle over me wearing this fancy tuxedo.” The young cowboy flexed his shoulders as though trying to shuck off the very idea. “When I told her I’d rather be shut up in a ten-foot corral with a Brahma stud than put on sissy duds, she up and told me to get lost.”

Billy exchanged a wry look with Cassidy, who suspected his men were deliberately ragging each other in an attempt to take his mind off the mess inside. He ground his teeth. Even after years of trying, he’d never quite conquered the queasiness that invariably followed the sight of blood.

He did his best to hide it. Sometimes he succeeded. Mostly he failed. Tonight his men and the vet had had a ringside seat while he’d puked up his dinner. Though they’d pretended not to notice, he was still feeling raw.

“Dawn comes early,” he said, his voice rasped by the memory of his earlier humiliation. “You guys can stand here and jaw all night if you want, but I’m fixin’ to wind things up and try for a few hours’ sleep.”

“Sure thing, boss.” From the corner of his eye, Cassidy saw Billy jerk his head at the kid who looked puzzled for an instant, then took his cue.

“Night, Billy, Mr. Sloane.”

Cassidy nodded. “Appreciate your help tonight, Whitehorse. Thanks.”

The kid’s tired face creased into a wide grin. “Sure thing, boss. Sorry we couldn’t save her. She was a sweet animal.” Whitehorse turned and walked toward his truck. Seconds later, the engine roared to life and Randall headed home to his bed.

Ignoring a tug of envy, Cassidy squared his shoulders and started to step across the threshold, only to have Billy stop him. “Let me do it, Cass,” he said.

Cassidy had to unlock his jaw to answer gruffly, “You’ve done enough, but thanks for the offer.”

“Cass, listen to me.” His gaze bored into Cassidy’s, full of a rough intensity. “So the sight of blood makes you sick. So what? There’s no shame to it. Tonight, in there, when the doc…well, I was pretty queasy myself.”

Cassidy fought down the nightmare image of Caine’s scalpel flashing in the light. “Nice try, Billy, but I have to handle this my way.”

The ramrod nodded slowly, demons of his own surfacing for a moment in his tired green eyes. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

Cassidy watched the man he considered his best friend climb into his pickup and drive away, knowing even as he stood there with the rain sheeting past him that he was stalling. Anything to keep from going back inside, where the stench of blood still hung in the air like a curse.

By the time the sound of the truck faded, he was beginning to wish he’d shucked his pride and accepted Billy’s offer. He searched for an appropriate phrase to describe his own stupidity, then realized he was too tired to swear.

“Just get it done, Sloane,” he muttered as he made himself walk inside.

Even though he was prepared, the metallic odor that enveloped him had him gritting his teeth by the time he’d taken only a few steps. Get it done, he repeated silently, reaching for the pitchfork. He’d pile the blood-soaked straw out back, then scour the stall and the section of the cement floor he could reach with bleach and disinfectant. He’d have to wait for the animal disposal guys to move the corpses before he could finish the job. Still, he’d have the place clean enough so it was safe to let Vicki come in to say goodbye.

Willing his body to cooperate, he set to work. His muscles ached at the abuse, but the pain kept his mind from wandering. Overhead, the rain beat a steady rhythm, like the tick of the metronome Sylvia kept on the piano.

When Vicki had been four or five, it had been one of her favorite toys.

His hands tightened on the fork as he let himself think, finally, of the task that awaited him when this one was done. No matter how he circled the truth in his head tonight, he knew in his gut that telling Vicki was going to be pure hell.

Vicki and her Golden Girl had grown up together. Two frisky and willful youngsters galloping through the fields.

And now, because he’d wanted to breed Goldie’s beauty and heart to the stallion’s courage, Vicki was about to learn the pain of losing her best friend.

* * *

Karen started to turn over in bed, only to find herself teetering precariously on the edge of the mattress. Still half asleep, she pried her eyes open in order to check the time by the clock radio. It was then that she realized she had fallen asleep on Vicki’s narrow bed while waiting for Vicki to drift off.

Next to her, Vicki was cuddled into a ball, her cheeks rosy from sleep, her breathing regular and deep. The room was dark with the exception of a square of muted light from the security lamp shining through the ruffled curtains. The house was quiet. No sound from outside penetrated the old house’s thick walls.

Karen had no idea what time it might be, though she suspected it was a few hours before dawn. Her head ached from too much wine and too little sleep, and her back was stiff from her awkward position.

The last thing she remembered she’d been staring at the glow from the small lamp she’d left burning on the dresser, thinking about the first time Cassidy had made love to her.

It had been in the hayloft of the main barn, a huge old dinosaur of a structure, with a granite foundation and huge oak beams.

Cassidy had been bucking hay bales that day and the scent of fresh-mown alfalfa had filled the air with a delightful sweetness.

It had been close to a hundred degrees that Saturday afternoon, and he’d been working without a shirt. Incredibly strong, utterly beautiful, he’d handled the monstrously heavy bales with an economy of motion that had amazed her. Under a shimmering sheen of sweat, his body had been deeply tanned, a magnificent creation of fluid muscle and resilient sinew, furred across the chest with a soft pelt of black curls.

He’d said very little, but his deep-set dark brown eyes had been liquid with a longing so fierce she’d taken a step backward. But when he’d held out his hand and beckoned her to step from the ladder onto the dusty, hay-strewn floor, she’d obeyed without a second thought.

Even as he’d kissed her out of her shorts and top, she’d been aware of the incredible power of his body, the massively muscled chest, the steely strength in long legs capable of controlling a half-ton horse with ease.

He hadn’t asked for her love, but it had been his from the first gentle, almost shy touch of his callused hand, the first slow smile that reached his eyes as well as his hard mouth.

In her heart they had been wed from the moment he’d slowly eased his body into hers, inexorably stretching her to accommodate his hard length, his muscled frame shuddering from the effort to be gentle. Though he’d said little, she’d felt the hunger in him. The wild, desperate need that seemed to burn through his skin. In return, he’d made her soar.

Vicki had been conceived that hot, dusty day; she was sure of it.

Cassidy had doted on his daughter from the first magical moment of her birth, so much so that he’d wanted more children as soon as Karen’s doctor had given her the go-ahead.

She’d wanted more children, too. A houseful.But later, after she’d finished her education and established herself in a practice. At the time, Cassidy had appeared to understand.

With a sigh, she smoothed the covers closer to her daughter’s stubborn little chin. As Karen started to ease from the bed, she realized that a blanket had been thrown over her as she’d slept. The light had been extinguished as well, she realized belatedly.

Cassidy must have come in to check on Vicki and found her there, too. Had he kissed her when he’d covered her? she wondered, then rejected the notion. Even in her sleep, she would have responded to him.

Bracing herself against the cold, she got to her feet and tiptoed barefoot out of the room. The light was on in the master bedroom. Cassidy was awake, lying naked on his back, his powerful arms folded under his head. One thick forearm bore a long, angry-looking scrape, and on his right shoulder was a large bruise already purpling and puffy, both giving testimony to the battle he must have waged to bring a new foal into the world.

He’d obviously showered. His black hair was still damp and only haphazardly combed away from his lined forehead and he smelled faintly of soap. The covers lay in disarray, as though jerked free in anger, and only the sheet covered him.

At her entrance he turned his head and looked at her. Though his gaze was direct, his expression was shuttered. Oh, no, no! she thought, already preparing herself for the worst.

“Golden Girl?” she asked quietly as she closed the door behind her.

“Gone. The foal, too. Prettiest little filly you ever saw.” His gaze flickered, then held steady again. She wondered again what had happened to him in the past to prompt him to guard his feelings so brutally.

“I’m sorry.”

He acknowledged that with a curt nod. “Doc tried, I’ll give him that. But it was a breech.”

Karen saw in his eyes the things he’d omitted, and she wanted to weep.

Feeling as though she’d aged a hundred years in the span of one day, she removed her robe and tossed it toward the foot of the bed. Outside, the wind strained against the branches of the towering aspens, and the old house creaked in a familiar nightly ritual that had never failed to soothe her—until tonight.

“I told Vicki I would give her the news as soon as you told me, but I don’t have the heart to wake her,” she said as she slipped beneath the already tumbled covers.

“I’ll tell her. It’s my responsibility.”

“But not your fault.”

His control slipped long enough to reveal a muscle ticking along his jaw. His voice, too, held a harsh note of self-censure. “It was my call, my decision to breed the mare.”

“Of course you bred her,” she hastened to assure him. “Goldie was a beautiful animal with excellent bloodlines. There isn’t a rancher in the state who wouldn’t have bred her.”

“Tell that to my daughter.” He plowed a hand through his already rumpled hair.

“I will, even though I have a feeling she’ll figure that out for herself. Vicki has your instincts, your love of animals. She’ll make a marvelous rancher.”

His eyes flashed. “The hell she will.”

Karen drew a calming breath. “Please, let’s not get into another argument about our conflicting views on gender-specific careers.”

Cassidy felt rage tearing at the edges of his calm, the strangling, desperate kind that always came when his thoughts threatened to slide into a pit of icy blackness where some nameless, faceless terror was always waiting.

“If that means I don’t intend to allow my daughter to burn herself out doing a man’s job, then, yeah, there’s no point in arguing, because it’s a done deal,” he said with more force than finesse.

“No,” she said quietly, distinctly. “It isn’t. Victoria will have the same unlimited choices I had growing up.”

“Yeah, and we all know how well you turned out, don’t we, Dr. Sloane?”

“Damn you,” she whispered, her voice as raw as a blizzard wind. “I don’t deserve that.”

“No, you’re a great doctor. Everyone says so.”

She breathed in sharply, then let the air out in a slow stream. “What’s happening to us, Cassidy?” she asked, looking at him beseechingly.

“We’re worried about Vicki, that’s what’s happening.”

She shook her head. “No, it’s more than that,” she said after a long moment of deliberation.

“You’re just upset.”

“Why are you shutting me out when we both need each other so much?”

Need wasn’t an emotion he allowed. Not for a long, long time. “Karen, I’m not exactly in a mood for a deep philosophical discussion at the moment.” His voice came out hard and clipped, and he couldn’t make himself say the words to ease the hurt now shimmering in her eyes like unshed tears. But it was the tears quivering on the tips of her lashes that broke him.

“Damn.” He was moving before he thought, rearing up to close the distance between them, reaching for her even as he crashed his mouth down on hers.

He absorbed her unique taste, part sweet, part tart, and felt her lips soften. In the back of his mind he knew what he was doing wouldn’t solve a thing, but the need to try one more time to bind her to him was too strong. But even as he argued that he was fighting for what was his by law and by need, he struggled against a feeling of revulsion at his own behavior. With a groan, he dragged his mouth from hers.

“No, don’t stop,” she pleaded, her voice thick with tears.

“It tears me apart when I hurt you,” he rasped, blood surging to his loins. “I just can’t seem to stop doing it.”

“I know.” Reaching up, she traced the line of his mouth with her fingertip, and heat shot through him. “I wish I’d declined the invitation to that stupid party.”

“Goldie would still be dead, party or no party.”

“Yes, but the party reminded us both of the things we said to each other that night at the cave entrance.”

“You mean the things I said, don’t you?”

She nodded. “They hurt, Cassidy. I can’t deny that.”

He felt an odd twisting in his gut. “Would you rather I lied?”

She shook her head. “I can’t go on feeling guilty forever.”

“I want you home, Kari. That’s not going to change.”

He saw the play of emotions in her eyes, bled a little when the glow left.

“Where does that leave us now, at this moment?” she asked, her chin angling defiance and strength.

“The same place it always does in this room. I want you.”

“All right.”

“Just like that?”

Her smile was ragged, but it still had the power to draw him closer. “No, not just like that. I want you, too.”

Worn out from so much talk, he captured her finger between his teeth and used his tongue to lave the tip. Gentleness was a skill he’d only marginally mastered, but he steeled himself to go slowly. For her sake, he told himself. Not because he was hoping against hope that this time his will would prevail against the pill keeping her safe from his seed.

Yet it felt as though all the demons of hell were riding him hard, urging him to love her so completely she wouldn’t have the strength to leave him. Helpless against a building need, he found her mouth again, this time to plunder and possess. Instead of retreating, she rose to meet him, her hands linking behind his neck to tug him closer. His breath mingled with hers, great warm gasps of desperate need, and soft, eager cries poured from her throat, exciting him into a fever only she could break.

Shaken, he ended the kiss, only to have her begin her own seduction of his mouth. His control teetered on a hot, honed edge, then shattered at the first tentative touch of her tongue against his lips. With a sound that was both anger and surrender, he opened his mouth and welcomed her pillaging tongue.

When he couldn’t stand the torment any longer, he dragged his mouth from hers in order to concentrate on the warm, sweet treasure at the base of her neck. She tasted of bath soap and smelled delicious, exactly as a woman should.

His woman, he wanted to shout as he felt her fingers skimming his shoulders. As she arched her neck and pressed her breasts against his chest, flames licked at him, hotter than the man-made hell where he’d spent most of his life. In her kiss was the promise of release he craved—not only from his physical torment, but also from the talons of guilt and regret that never stopped clawing at him, no matter how desperately he tried to make his life count for something.

Karen writhed under him, her hands seeking and desperate, her strangled cries escalating. Again and again he filled his mouth with her, then tried to slake his pain and anger and shame by worshiping her breasts. Warm, full breasts tipped with hard little nubs so eager to be suckled, so temptingly sweet, even through the silky flannel of her gown.

“Yes, oh yes!” she urged, her voice thick with a passion that spurred his own onto higher ground. “Faster. Go faster.”

“Easy,” he managed to say between burning kisses, his body riding a dangerous ridge between pain and pleasure while he groped with the hem of the nightie.

“No, I want to feel you inside me,” she urged, twisting and bucking like a wild thing.

“Oh, baby, you feel good,” he murmured, pulling her down onto the bed. He leaned over her and brought their hips closer together. She gasped when his engorged body probed hers, and he felt her welcoming heat through a thin layer of fabric.

He groaned with impatience and triumph as his fingers found the warm, sleek skin beneath the flannel. “Help me,” he grated, his voice sounding thick as molasses.

Between kisses, she helped him free her from her gown. With one snap of his powerful wrist, he sent the thin material whooshing halfway across the room. His other hand shook a little as he skimmed his palm over her rib cage, over her belly where a few silvery lines attesting to her pregnancy still remained, to the soft nest of springy curls between her thighs.

He palmed her first, and felt her shiver. Burying his face between her breasts, he slipped one finger past the swollen folds protecting the tiny nubbin nestled just inside. He massaged the hard kernel of acutely sensitive nerve endings and felt her shudder, then come alive, arching, tearing at his hair, bucking against his thigh.

“Soon,” he whispered, trying to gentle her the way he gentled a skittish mare, but she wouldn’t allow restraint. On a groan of surrender, he slipped two fingers into the warm, moist sheath and felt the tremors shaking her. She was so slick, so hot, her readiness like a rare and precious gift that he would treasure always, especially in the dark nights ahead.

Panting, her breath coming in little sobs of need, she moved against his fingers. Gritting his teeth, he forced his mind off the hot, throbbing pressure in his groin and concentrated on stroking her into readiness.

Inarticulate cries broke from her as she moved faster and faster, her hair a tumble on the pillow as she arched her head backward. Awash in the musky, womanly scent of her, driven nearly to breaking, he strained to feel the first tiny shivers deep inside her, where his body craved welcome.

When he felt the spasms take hold, he drew back, his knee nudging her thighs wider. Bracing himself, he plunged downward, filling her. She cried out, her eyes flying open and her hips thrusting upward to take him deeper. Moaning, her breath came in rasping gasps now. She gripped his buttocks with hard, desperate fingers and urged him to move with her.

Pain tore at him, mingling with a rising urgency until finally he felt the hot tension inside her give way, and she cried out. He thrust harder, seeking desperately to escape the black prison cell where his sins had confined him.

His heart thundered in his ears, mingling with the guttural cry of his own release. At the same time, he heard Kari call his name and wrap her arms and legs around him. Once, twice, he felt himself convulse into her, until he was at once depleted and sated.

Later, as she slept in his arms, he let his eyes drift closed and told himself they could work things out. He wasn’t sure he could stand it if they didn’t.