Читать книгу The Prodigal Wife - Susan Fox P. - Страница 8

GABE PATTON and Lainey Talbot had been married for almost five years, though they’d only been together in the same room twice since then. The first time was that ten minutes after a judge had pronounced them husband and wife as they’d signed the marriage certificate. She’d coldly walked out without a word to Gabe, leaving the beautiful rings he’d just put on her finger lying next to her signature.

The second time had been at her mother’s funeral six months ago. She’d kept herself aloof, wordlessly listening to Gabe’s formal expression of condolence before she’d stoically endured less than an hour breathing the same air as him while the memorial service droned on.

She’d walked away from him that time, too. Calmly and coldly, still frozen from the shock of her mother’s death, but still quite coldly furious with him for what he and her late father had done to her.

Over the five years she’d spent away from Texas and Gabe Patton, she’d refused his every phone call, and sent back to him, unopened, every letter and gift he’d sent to her. Still self-righteous, she’d boldly marked on each envelope or package in red felt pen: Refused. Return To Sender.

She’d never acknowledged Gabe Patton as her legal husband in even a remote way, much less taken his name, though she’d been forced to file her income tax returns as married, filing single, and she’d had to instruct her lawyer to rebuff any attempt at contact, short of death or a divorce petition. She hadn’t let herself think many good thoughts about Gabriel Patton; she’d certainly never spoken anything good about him these past years.

She’d almost managed to make herself forget the mad adolescent crush she’d had on him once when she was barely eighteen, and she’d staunchly tried to deny to herself the reasons she’d loved him to distraction back then. Sometimes she was even successful. She’d been glad she’d taken such incredible pains to protect her female pride, to keep a wary distance from Gabe Patton so he’d never suspect her feelings for him—particularly once she’d found out that the only reason he’d agreed to marry her had been to get control of Talbot Ranch.

Her sweet, agonizing crush had exploded into fiery hate when he’d done that, and she’d sworn to herself that she’d never show Gabriel Patton an ounce of welcome or approval as a husband. Never.

But she’d got it wrong, so very wrong.

Gabe Patton had never been the greedy opportunist she’d thought he was when he’d agreed to the marriage deal her father had secretly cooked up for his only child. A marriage deal she’d never suspected until after her father’s sudden death when she’d heard the barbaric terms of his will.

In her mind, the father she’d idolized had apparently found a way to punish her for trying to stay neutral in his bitter divorce from her mother. John Talbot had never given any indication of disapproval toward her and had even seemed to agree with her decision when she’d left the ranch to live with her mother in Chicago. But when he’d given away control of her inheritance to the man he’d selected for her to marry, she’d taken it as a brutal revelation of some virulent, secret anger her father had harbored over the agonizing choice she’d made.

And because her much-loved and adored father had been just four days dead by the time she’d found it out, she hadn’t been able to bring herself to be angry with him, only wounded and bewildered by what he’d done. Instead she’d taken out her rage over the shock of her father’s death, and the injustice of his secret bargain, on Gabe. She’d spurned him and done spite to the marriage that had been forced on her.

Until her mother had died and she’d read the truth in the ream of papers and documents Sondra had hidden away from her and lied about. Everything Lainey had done, every cold act, had been based on lies and pain and more lies. Because of what her mother had engineered, Lainey had not only dishonored her husband and her marriage, she’d also dishonored the memory of the loving father who’d tried to protect her from her mother’s greed, then had suddenly died before he could explain his reasons.

Now the stench of dishonor was slowly poisoning her soul. For weeks she’d been traumatized by the truth, and every moment of those weeks, sharp guilt had eaten at her and sickening questions had pounded her heart.

Was there a way to make up these past five years to Gabriel Patton? Was there anything she could do to somehow atone for the things she’d done to him—and his pride—in a way that might at least mollify him and give him some sort of satisfaction? It was too much to expect that he could forgive her. She’d come to that heart-crushing conclusion when she’d read the truth and realized the magnitude of her hatefulness.

If he paid her back even a smidgen of what she’d done to him, it would be the much deserved and overdue justice that was owed to a wronged man.

He’d endured her venom for years without a hint of retaliation, so he deserved to hear her admit to his face what she should have known all along: that he was an honorable man of character who was far too good for her, not the come-from-nothing lowlife she’d believed he was.

As terrified as she was to see him again and endure whatever awful things he’d say to her now, it was only right that she take whatever he was willing to dish out and do it without complaint.

Every air mile between Chicago and Patton Ranch had been a small eternity, surpassed only by the endless miles she’d driven from San Antonio in a rented car. Her crisply ruffled white blouse and khaki slacks were not exactly sackcloth, but she fretted over the selection. Had styling her long, dark hair in a chic upsweep made her look too aloof and citified? Should she have worn jeans and a simple cotton blouse, or should she have dressed even more like a spoiled princess who deserved to be mocked and chastised?

As long as the trip had seemed to take, the main house appeared suddenly over the last shallow rise of ranch road. Lainey’s heart surged into her throat and thumped fast and hard. She felt perspiration dot her face as another wave of guilt and terror washed painfully through her.

The large single-story adobe ranch house had a new addition on the east, and the gleaming rows of the new red tile roof gave the white-painted adobe below a pristine glow. The deep, shady veranda stretched along the entire front of the house, and each arch that curved over its outer edge was decorated with hanging pots of trailing flowers that favored deep blues and rich purples with touches of more red.

The luster of fresh red paint on the huge double front doors hinted that they could be either the gates of a threatening hell or the redemptive color of a joyous heaven. Lainey was well aware of which one she’d forfeited and which one she deserved.

Shame sent a hot flush to her face as she got out of the rental car, took out her handbag and leather briefcase, then made herself start up the front walk. The briefcase was heavy, perhaps because the papers and documents inside that vindicated Gabe were also an indictment of her stupidity.

The documents her mother had forged were also in the case, and she felt another twist of her insides at the thought that however evil it had been of her mother to perpetrate them on her, showing them to Gabe now would be as self-serving as it was disloyal to her mother.

Her feelings about her mother were still in turmoil. Was she being disloyal or was Sondra even worthy of loyalty after what she’d done?

But on the issue of selfishness, Lainey knew she was guilty. She still had the wild, impossible hope that when she showed the papers and forgeries to Gabe, he would understand, have mercy on her, and forgive her for the way she’d treated him.

She didn’t know what would happen after that. Probably divorce. There could be no reason that Gabe would want her after she’d been such a horror as a wife.

Then again, he might never see the papers. If he decided to pay her back in kind, he’d give her no opportunity to explain her actions. He’d probably throw her—and her briefcase of papers—out of his house and chase her off Patton Ranch. If that happened, she’d begin divorce proceedings next month. No sense being a millstone around his neck any longer.

Nausea began the slow, sickening climb into her chest as she reached the red doors and put out her free hand to push the doorbell. As if the housekeeper had seen her drive up and had been waiting for her to ring, the big red door on the right was pulled open.

Lainey didn’t recognize the Hispanic woman, but bid her a quiet, “Buenos dias, señora. Lainey Talbot to see Señor Patton.”

No doubt the woman would know her name whether she recognized Lainey or not. And sure enough, a faint light of suspicion and disapproval showed in the woman’s dark eyes, though her reserved smile was polite.

“Buenos dias. Señor Gabe is out with the men today. Perhaps you could come back at evening.”

“Is there any way I can go out wherever he is to speak to him?” Lainey asked hastily, suddenly worried that this might be her sole opportunity to see Gabe. She’d purposely not let him know ahead of time that she was coming. It was a sneaky thing to do, but she’d been afraid she’d never get near him otherwise.

Her only option then would be to get her lawyer to contact his lawyer. And again, Gabe had tried that periodically with her, but her instructions to her attorney had been another hateful rebuff.

To her surprise and relief, the woman seemed to make a decision about her, though it was clear she was hesitant about it.

“I can try to contact him for you.”

Relief gave Lainey a fraction of hope. “That would be very kind. I can wait out here.”

Lainey had added that last to somehow communicate to the woman that she understood the predicament her request had put her in. Gabriel Patton’s employees were loyal to him, and it would be unfair to put a strain on that.

She’d also meant the offer to wait outside the house as a semi-public acknowledgment that she had no right to cross the threshold into Gabe’s private domain. A wife like her didn’t deserve that kind of access.

The woman nodded and stepped back, making a polite smile again before slowly closing the door.

The nausea climbed a bit higher, and Lainey turned miserably to stare at the land. It was so abominably hot, but then it was just past two p.m., and this was June in Texas. Her body had become too accustomed to her air-conditioned life in Chicago.

Nevertheless, the sight of pastureland between the house and the highway nearly two miles distant was a visual comfort. It was also the only comfort she’d felt in weeks now, and she began to feel faintly shocked that she could have walked away from ranch life and endured the cement-surrounded life of the city for so long.

Oh, God, if I could come back to this…

The door behind her opened again and she turned back, trying not to reveal the pitiful hope she had. The housekeeper’s face showed little more than her polite smile and that same touch of wary disapproval.

“Señor Gabe is bringing horses to the pens now. He says you may meet him there or not, but he is too busy to come to you.”

Lainey tried to find some encouragement in that. If Gabe was allowing her to come that close to him, surely it was a good sign, though it was apparently all he was willing to do. The only time she’d allowed him a chance to be anywhere in her vicinity had been six months ago at the funeral. Perhaps this was a turn-about-is-fair-play sort of thing. She’d only been barely civil to him that one time, so maybe this would be the only time he’d be barely civil to her.

“Thank you, señora,” she said, then turned to rush to her car and put her handbag and briefcase inside. She started around the big house to the buildings and corrals of the headquarters.

Her brain was so awhirl with thoughts of what to say during the long walk that she didn’t realize until she’d passed the last of the buildings that her sandals were now gritty with dirt. The ground had been sunbaked and churned by so many hooves that the dirt was powdery.

As she stopped to scan the panorama of ranch land ahead, she saw the rising dust of a small herd of horses moving steadily in her direction and gave up on any thought of going back to the car for her boots. She took up a position next to the open gate of one of the larger pens, then shaded her eyes with her hands as she tried to pick Gabe out from the three men who were moving the horses along at a slow pace in the afternoon heat.

Her heart began to tremble with fear and excitement. Fear because she didn’t know what Gabe would say or do; excitement because the sight of young horses being brought in, probably for training, was familiar. It had been ages since she’d been on a horse, and she was suddenly emotional over the sight. She’d missed so much!

Lainey searched the size and posture of the three men, but even from a distance, she could tell that none of them were Gabe. She lowered her hands a moment, then was compelled to look again, fretting. Had he changed his mind about seeing her?

After another long, futile look, she lowered her hands again. A movement in her peripheral vision drew her to glance that way briefly, and she felt the shock of what she saw go from her brain to her feet.

Gabe Patton sat astride a huge black gelding, and he was watching her with an iron calm that sent another shock pounding through her. The horse’s neck and flank were damp, and his big hooves moved restively, as if he was eager to run.

Five years had only hardened Gabe Patton’s rugged looks, and they carried a seasoned harshness that she’d never seen. He’d been wearing a suit at the service six months ago, but his face had not been harsh, merely somber. Today it was decidedly stony. And unreadable. Gabe had never been handsome, but he carried the look of a westerner who worked hard and somehow he’d achieved such a devastating male charisma that, after this, would make it impossible for her to ever be impressed with softer, more conventionally handsome men.

His big body also looked harder and stronger—he was as tall as a giant—adding to a larger-than-life presence that was more potent and compelling for her than ever before, even six months ago. But she’d been trying not to look at him much then, and she was now getting the full view of a man who showed not a flicker of the sympathy she’d read in his expression during the ten or so seconds she’d actually looked at him that day.

Gabe was in his element here in the outdoors, so his impact on her seemed unchecked and unrestrained. She wondered dazedly if perhaps he somehow toned himself down in more civilized, indoor places, and she made a fervent wish that he would do it now. Instead he seemed to become more intimidating by the moment.

Beneath the shade of his black Stetson his dark eyes glittered slowly over her from head to foot as if he was judging the confirmation of a horse he might buy—or cull. She saw the faint curl of weary mockery that indented one side of his hard mouth, then saw it suddenly vanish as his dark gaze slid up from her dirty sandals and feet to slam against hers.

Anger, suspicion and something flat and icy showed in his gaze before he loosened the reins a fraction and his huge horse minced toward her. The sight made her think of a knight in full armor on a black destrier who could charge forward at any second to enter a battle to the death. When he stopped his big horse beside her and she turned to look up at him, the width of his shoulders blocked the sun. The heat from his horse was scorching, but she stood her ground.

Gabe was still staring harshly down at her, and she was helpless to look away. Her brain felt the deep probe of his gaze like a rough touch. She got nothing more from the way he looked at her than the impression that he was searching for something of worth in a place where searching for worth might be a waste of time.

Suddenly terrified that he’d stare at her a few moments more then just ride away, she managed to say, “I’m sorry.” The words croaked out of her dry throat, but he heard them.

“Sorry for what?” he said at last. “Sorry you had to come all this way, sorry you got your feet dirty?”

Now he would get his pound of flesh—that much was plain in the bitter way he said the words. But she’d come here to do some sort of penance and she hadn’t truly expected anything but harshness, whatever her wild hopes had been. She tried to take this as calmly and patiently as he’d taken all her slights and mistreatments.

“C-can we go someplace to talk?” The tremor in her voice was impossible to thwart.

“No reason until you answer the question. Sorry for what?”

She suddenly couldn’t bear the diamond glitter in his eyes and looked away. She’d craved this opportunity for weeks while she worked up her courage, but Gabe was so tough and skeptical of her that she wished she could simply vanish from his sight and slink away somewhere.

But if she let him chase her off now, she’d regret that, too, and she might never get another chance.

“I came here to…apologize.” The dryness in her mouth and the surge of roiling emotions complicated it all. “To even grovel if that’s…what it takes.”

Now she made the monumental effort to look up at him again, to say this to his face as she’d meant to. “I’ve been awful to you. You were never what I thought you were, and I came here to tell you that. And to say that I’m profoundly sorry.”

The diamond glitter in his eyes was suddenly banished by dark fire. “So now you want a divorce.”

His conclusion sent a new shock through her and she reflexively gave a quick, “No,” then caught herself and just as quickly added, “Yes. But you can’t want to stay married to me.”

The fire in his eyes didn’t lower by so much as a spark, so she rushed out with, “Isn’t that what you want to do?”

He let her wait a few more breathless seconds before he leaned toward her. She had to fight not to take a step back. “You have no idea what I want to do.”

To beat her, strangle her? The way he’d said the word want seemed menacing enough to suggest those things.

“Could we talk?”

Nothing eased in his face or in his eyes, but his voice lowered to a growl. “You’ve always taken the say-so about that.”

She tried a small, conciliatory smile, but it felt more like a sick curve of lips. She was just so desperate to somehow win a chance to tell him everything she’d come here to say. “I’m sorry about that, too.” Her heart was beating impossibly fast. “It’s your turn now.”

Not getting any clue that she’d said enough to satisfy him, she panicked and babbled out, “It’s completely your turn now, Gabe, completely.”

She couldn’t bear the awful suspense and her breathless, “Could we?” came out without her being conscious of it until she heard herself say the words. She’d sounded like a pitiful child begging for something, and she cringed inwardly. His growl went lower.

“How bad do you want to talk to me?”

It was as if he’d somehow hypnotized her and she’d answer any question without reserve.

“Badly.”

Gabe slowly straightened, his glittery, angry gaze never leaving hers. The big horse shifted beneath him as if responding to some sort of tension in his rider. Just when she thought he’d decided to ride away and leave her hanging, he spoke.

“Then move your things into my house. If you’re still there by supper, I’ll eat with you. I’ll think about talk—if you’ve learned enough manners to get through a meal.”

And then he rode away. She turned to watch him go, a little stunned to see the horses that had been herded to the tree-shaded pens were now milling inside. The thirty or so animals had trotted past only a few feet away from where she was standing, and it amazed her that she’d neither seen nor heard them or the wranglers who’d brought them in and closed the gate.

Move your things into my house…I’ll think about talking if you’ve learned enough manners…

Tough, uncompromising, but it was as much a warning as it was the chance she’d craved. Gabe Patton would tolerate no misstep or wrong word, and certainly no hint of spite from her ever again. And she didn’t know him well enough to know what might set him off, particularly when she was sure that anything, no matter how miniscule or unintended on her part, might well get her thrown out before she even realized what she’d done to rile him.

Mindful that he’d now dismounted and handed his horse off to one of the wranglers and might be about to glance her way, she turned and hurried back to the house, determined to demonstrate that she would immediately comply with his dictates, however more demanding they might become.

And however impossible she feared he could make them.