Читать книгу To Tame a Bride - Susan Fox, Susan Fox P. - Страница 8

CHAPTER TWO

MADISON SAT STIFFLY beside him, her posture so straight that it should have snapped her spine. Her hauteur amused him. Madison St. John was too full of herself; money had ruined the sweet kid she’d been. She was living proof that it wasn’t healthy to get everything you wanted. A body had to have something meaningful to look forward to, some reason to dream.

He thought again about how much she’d changed. Madison and her cousin, Caitlin Bodine, had been close once. But as far as he knew, they hadn’t spoken to each other for years. It was no secret that Madison blamed Caitlin for the death of the boy she’d been in love with in high school.

Beau Duvall had been a rounder, spoiled by his mother and stepfather, and destined for trouble, but shy, plain little Maddie had been crazy about him. When Beau was killed, she’d been devastated and, like everyone else, she’d blamed Caitlin.

It was only in the past few months, after Caitlin had returned to Texas, that the whole truth about Beau’s death had been made public. Caitlin had not only been accepted back into everyone’s good graces, she’d married Beau Duvall’s older brother, Reno. Madison was the only person who couldn’t accept what had really happened when Beau was killed.

Her reason for being the only holdout was probably nothing he’d ever know. He’d rarely had personal contact with her. The moment they got to Colorado and went their separate ways, he wouldn’t have cause to have contact with her again. Though they both lived in the same part of Texas and were both wealthy, their lifestyles were too different for anything more than a distant acquaintance.

Madison couldn’t relax. Her choler had faded, displaced by the agonizing fear she had of small planes. Because she confided in no one these days, no one would ever guess the magnitude of what she was willing to go through to see her mother.

The large Cessna seemed so cramped and fragile. It bumped and wallowed over every little pocket of air. The constant motion made her queasy, and the longer they flew, the heavier the queasiness became. Hours into the flight, she was so nauseous that she could barely sit upright. She’d wilted back against the seat, so miserable she was shaking.

“Your face is a pretty shade of green, Miz St. John.”

Linc’s calm observation gave her a vicious start.

“You need a bucket?”

The crude question put a sickening image in her mind. Grappling for the distraction of sarcasm, she said through gritted teeth, “Your lap should do well enough, Mr. Coryell.”

The sudden dip of the plane almost pushed her queasy stomach over the edge. She squeezed her eyes closed and panted sickly as the plane began to descend. She was aware of Linc reaching for the radio mike, but she couldn’t follow what he said into it.

Her attention had fixed on the low, calm sound of his voice. The unexpected comfort of his masculine drawl slid along her ragged nerves and steadied them somehow. The strange reaction set off a small shock wave that made her turn her head weakly against the seat back to look at him.

Lincoln Coryell was handsome, ruggedly so. His broad-shouldered, six-foot-four frame seemed to fill the cabin of the small plane, making it seem even more crowded. His arm and side were inches away, but she felt the heat of him from where she sat. Pleasant heat. Male heat.

The pang of guilt she felt surprised her until she let herself acknowledge its source.

Beau Duvall. She’d loved Beau deeply. She still loved him. He’d been handsome, so beautifully handsome. Love of life had blazed so painfully bright in his blue eyes, in his tanned face, in everything he said and did and wanted in life. He’d been so much fun, teasing, irreverent and daring.

Maddie had been so repressed, so unloved, so unlovely back then that when such a handsome, vitally alive and exciting young man had paid the slightest attention to her, she’d fallen wildly and hopelessly in love, dismally aware that handsome Beau Duvall could never love her.

But then he had. The miracle of it still awed her, still gave her hungry heart some vital bit of sustenance, though Beau was long dead now. Beau’s affection for her had been like a fairy tale come true. He’d made her feel wanted, special; he’d made her feel beautiful, somehow bringing about her astonishing transformation from duckling to swan...

Line turned his head to look at her. Though she was remembering Beau, she’d been staring at Line. He said something and her blurry gaze fell to his lips. They were so well-defined, with a masculine sort of ruthlessness that made her heart flutter lightly despite her misery.

Linc’s face was tanned and harshly chiseled, but brutally attractive in the way of rugged Western men who spent their days in the elements working with dangerous animals.

Dangerous. Yes, she realized, her mind still fuzzy. Dangerous was the word for the way Lincoln Coryell looked. Tough was also part of the package, but he was one hundred percent domineering Texas male, from the crown of his Stetson to the underslung heels of his Western boots.

Nothing at all like the much less harsh, far more gentle and sweet Beau. Never like Beau.

So why this peculiar stirring with Line, why this sudden fascination with a man too hard-edged and blatantly male for her refined tastes?

Madison turned her head so she wouldn’t have to look at him. She felt so horribly ill. Surely these wild impressions and startling reactions were part of being in such utter physical misery.

The abrupt jolt of the small plane setting down made her jerk with surprise. Relief flooded her as she realized they’d landed, and Line was taxiing off the runway to the tarmac next to a hangar. Her head was still swimming after he brought the plane to a halt and switched off the engine. She was so nauseous that she didn’t dare move. Her eyelids sagged closed as she waited for her stomach to settle.

“Did you eat something today?”

The gruff question sent a sting of irritation across her jittery nerves. The nausea surged up for a moment before it began to recede.

Her soft, “Of course,” was a lie. Admitting that she’d been too nervous to eat would reveal a weakness to him that she considered far worse than being airsick.

“You can get a sandwich at the café over there. I’ll meet you when the plane’s refueled.”

Maddie didn’t respond until he touched her arm. The earthquake he set off shook her. She roused herself and sat up straighter.

“Come on, Princess. Let’s get you outta here.”

The gruff words were her only warning before she found herself forcibly ejected from her seat. Panicked, she grabbed her handbag and tried to get out of the plane under her own power. But her arms and legs were clumsy, and her head was whirling.

Linc took over as if she weighed no more than an awkward piece of luggage. He was like some gigantic warm wave, sweeping her small body along ahead of his until he set her on her feet behind the plane’s wing.

The bones in her legs were as substantial as cooked noodles, and she swayed against him, clinging to his lean waist as best she could while she tried to recover her strength. The feel of Linc’s hard, well-defined masculinity sobered her, but a new kind of weakness spread through her and slowed her recovery.

“Should I get out the smelling salts...or are you makin’ a pass at me?”

It took a moment for Linc’s drawled words to penetrate.

Or are you makin’ a pass at me? The idea appalled her. It was amazing how suddenly her legs steadied and she was able to push him away.

“God forbid.” The caustic words slipped out before she considered how sharply they might land on a male ego. Most male egos were pathetically fragile. Normally, she didn’t care whether she trampled one or not, but she needed Linc’s goodwill.

Her gaze shot up to gauge his reaction, but his sunglasses blocked the sight. What she could see of his face indicated total immunity to the jab.

Of course. A man who’d achieved as much wealth and power as Lincoln Coryell couldn’t have a fragile ego. Pride maybe. Excessive pride. But there was nothing fragile about the tower of masculinity before her.

“Order me some coffee while you’re at it,” he said, then turned and walked toward the hangar without a backward glance.

Madison managed to eat a good portion of the salad and dry toast she’d ordered before Linc joined her at the café. After little more than an hour on the ground, they were taking off. Madison felt worlds better, but she couldn’t get over her nervousness in the small plane. Though she didn’t feel much safer in an airliner, small planes always gave her. the sensation of hurtling through space in a soda can.

She and Linc didn’t speak, and eventually she dozed as the stress of the day caught up with her and the drone of the engine lulled her to sleep.

It was the odd sound of the engine that woke her later. At first, she thought they were landing. But the staccato sound of an engine failing and the irregular vibration that shook the plane registered. Terror brought her fully awake. She jerked her head in Linc’s direction.

“What’s wrong?” Linc’s sunglasses were off and his lean jaw was clenched so hard that she knew the answer before he spoke.

“Tighten that seat belt and hang on.”

The grim order made her face forward to see out the windshield. Mountains. They were over the Rockies. The deep, heavy green of forest that mantled everything below the highest peaks and seemed to fill every valley between was breathtaking. The realization that they were about to fall into all those trees—and would probably be killed in a fiery crash—was so vivid suddenly that she couldn’t breathe. Every wild beat of her heart thundered in her ears as she watched the mountains and all that green come closer and closer.

Her body went so rigid with tension that she was in literal pain. Terror left her dry-mouthed and mute. But when the plane suddenly lurched to the left, her stomach lurched with it and startled a gurgling shriek out of her.

Her shock-rounded eyes flew to Linc and she saw him grappling with the controls. It took her a moment to register the fact that he’d turned the plane on purpose. Though it was out of control, he’d managed to force it to do something.

“What are you doing?” Her demand didn’t convey any of her insight, but it was as close as she dared to the question she really wanted to have answered: Are we going to die?

A cowardice she’d never suspected of herself gripped her insides. They were about to die and she wasn’t ready!

The plane dipped crazily and suddenly she could see the treetops loom so close she felt as if she could put out her hand and touch them. She could see the individual leaves on the branches and instinctively pressed her feet against the floor in an irrational attempt to push herself higher.

“Cover your face!”

Madison was too frozen to move. The last thing she glimpsed before the nose of the plane came up and blocked her view was a space of open meadow.

And then the terrible sound of treetops scraping metal filled the plane. She leaned forward and covered her face with her arms. She must have fainted then because she never felt the crash.

Linc wiped impatiently at the trickle of sweat that slid down between his eyebrows, not surprised that his fingers came away bloody. His head hurt like hell, but he was alive. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been unconscious, but it couldn’t have been long. The sun—what he could tell about its position with trees blocking its light—hadn’t moved too far. But he’d been out long enough that the smell of leaking fuel was strong.

He glanced over at his passenger. Maddie finally looked disheveled. Her chin rested on her chest, and she looked as limp as a rag doll. She didn’t seem to have a mark on her, so he reached over to touch her arm and give her a small shake. She stirred then, lifted her head, and let out a small moan.

Madison felt as if every joint in her body had been dislocated. Consciousness ebbed back and with it the memory of falling through the trees. She jerked fully awake and glanced around wildly. Outside the missing windows of the cockpit, tree trunks and branches were everywhere. The tip of a branch had speared through a window space far enough that it was only six inches from her face.

“You all right?” The brusque question startled her, but when she turned her head to look over at Linc, her neck was stiff with pain. The terror and disorientation she felt eased at the comforting sight of him.

He was no longer wearing his Stetson. A cut near his hairline glistened with blood, but other than the cut, he looked as rugged and domineering as ever. His skin was a little gray beneath his tan, but he looked wonderfully, gloriously unharmed.

He gave her arm a small shake that made her aware he was speaking to her. “Are you all right?”

The question sounded a little kinder this time, and for some reason, her eyes began to smart with tears. Appalled, she forced them back and focused on mentally checking herself for injuries. Other than a stiff neck and a body that ached everywhere, she felt remarkably unharmed.

The realization that she was alive sent a gust of pure euphoria through her. “I seem to be...fine.”

Linc didn’t look as euphoric as she felt. In fact, his expression was so grim that she felt a surge of anxiety.

“Then we’d better get out. Carefully,” he added, “since we’ve got a fuel leak.”

Madison smelled it now, and it was strong. She automatically reached for her handbag, then had to rummage on the floor for it. Thankfully, it had been securely zipped so its contents hadn’t been scattered.

Linc bustled her out of the plane as quickly and forcefully as he had at the airport, but they had to fight their way through the broken branches and underbrush that jammed the space around the right wing.

Once they were on the ground, Madison stumbled through the brush, using her handbag to cover her face until they were past the tail of the plane. The meadow she’d glimpsed before the crash was just a few feet away.

Line had obviously not had enough room to land before he ran out of clearing and smashed into the trees. When Madison turned and saw that the nose and body of the plane had speared neatly into a narrow gap between the tree trunks, she couldn’t help being impressed with his aim.

But because the plane had gone into the trees, the crash wouldn’t be easy to spot from the sky. It dawned on her that the hidden crash made it next to impossible for a quick rescue. Linc’s next words confirmed it.

“I’ll get as much gear and luggage as I can. When I throw it out, drag it to the clearing.”

Madison glanced toward the meadow, then back at the plane. The smell of fuel was still strong. “W-will it blow up?”

Linc ignored her question and started toward the wreck. She seized his arm and held him back, terrified of an explosion.

“We need what’s in the plane, if we can get it.”

Madison let go of his arm. Of course they needed what was in the plane. The clothing she’d brought, her makeup and toiletries, were necessities. But not if the plane was about to explode.

She was terrified again, this time for Linc. If the plane blew up, he’d be killed or seriously injured, and they were too far from help. All she’d seen from the air had been miles of trees and mountains. Anxious for Linc’s safety, Madison followed, but hovered a safe distance from the wreck.

The first things Linc tossed her way must have been his. A packaged blanket, a rope, a bundled piece of plastic, and his duffel bag. Finally, he got to her luggage and hefted out her small suitcase to send it tumbling toward her. She winced when it hit the ground sharply. Panicked, she grabbed it and gave it a careful shake. The sound of small bottles clacking against one another made her hurry through the brush to the clearing to check the fragile contents.

The catch had jammed and she crouched down beside Linc’s things to set her case on the ground and force it open. She was so absorbed in the task and so worried that the contents had been damaged, that she forgot to go back to the plane to help with the rest of her luggage.

“Thanks much, Princess.”

The sound of the suitcase and garment bag hitting the ground next to her made her jump. Madison frowned at the luggage he’d dropped, then jerked her head up to glare at him. He’d located his Stetson and it cast an appealing shadow over his handsome face.

“How dare you throw my belongings around?”

One corner of his handsome mouth quirked. “Didn’t exactly throw them. Unless you’d like me to demonstrate what that would look like, so you can tell the difference.”

Something about the way his dark eyes shifted to her large suitcase made her reach toward it protectively.

But Line stepped over it to get to his duffel bag. Madison watched him mistrustfully until he unzipped the bag before she went back to the stubborn catch on her small case.

“Go through your things and pick out a few essentials,” he told her as he sorted through his bag, discarding one thing after another.

Madison ignored the order. He might have packed things he didn’t consider essential, but she hadn’t. She needed everything she’d brought.

Especially the contents of the small case. The catch remained stubbornly closed. She reached for her handbag to find something she could use to pry it open. The Cadillac key on her key ring was sturdier than her metal fingernail file, so she used it. But the key was too thick for the thin crack of the case.

“Get busy with that luggage.”

Linc’s terse words brought her head up. He was hunkered down, balancing himself on the balls of his booted feet with a forearm resting on a bowed thigh. He’d finished going through his duffel bag and was watching her expectantly. She could see he’d packed the roll of plastic and the rope. The blanket must have been packed in the deeper part of the bag. A pile of clothing sat on the ground next to him.

“I am busy with my luggage,” she shot back irritably. “And you did throw this case. You damaged the catch.”

“Hand it here and start on the rest of your things.”

Maddie looked over at him a moment, reluctant. Did she really trust him with it? What if he managed to open the latch and saw the contents—looked through the contents? Her makeup and toiletries—her feminine hygiene products—were things she considered too personal for male eyes. Certainly too personal for Lincoln Coryell’s eyes.

Eyes that were so brown they were almost black, she noticed, and so intense that they seemed to miss nothing. She suddenly had the feeling that they were probing deep into her brain, as if he could read her next thought before she knew it herself.

No one had ever looked at her like that; she’d never have allowed it. She wouldn’t have allowed Linc to do so now except she couldn’t seem to look away. She couldn’t seem to keep from noticing how attractive his dark eyes were, and how frightening and wonderful it was to feel the odd power of them stroking so deep, so—

The small case slid from her fingers, startling her. She grabbed for it reflexively, but wasn’t quick enough to snatch it. A tug of war would have been undignified, so she pulled back and clenched her fists.

“Sort through that luggage.” The order was low, but this time, it carried a burr of steel that chafed her pride. “Pick the essentials.”

Her firm, “Everything I packed is essential,” brought his dark gaze homing in on hers like an arrow on a target.

“Humor me, Princess. I’m having a bad day.”

The harsh set of his mouth was surprisingly intimidating. And effective. Madison hesitated a moment before reaching for the suitcase. When she did, those dark eyes fell away to focus on the small case.

Madison opened the large suitcase, gave everything a token perusal, then snapped it shut. She went through the garment bag just as swiftly.

“Valium?”

The gruff question got her attention and Madison glanced Linc’s way. He’d got the small case open and she automatically reached for it before the grim look on his face registered. He was holding a prescription bottle between two callused fingers.

“You addicted to these things?” His obvious disapproval made her give a quick, “Of course not.” He ignored her outstretched hand.

“How often do you take them?”

She leaned forward to claim the bottle from him, but he closed his hand and held it just out of reach.

“How often?” The no-nonsense look he was giving her warned he meant business.

Madison’s temper shot high and hot. “None of your business. Give them to me.”

Instead, he glanced down at the bottle to read the label. “Looks like a big dose for a beginner.”

She felt her face flush. “Are you suggesting I’m an addict?”

He leveled a hard look on her and studied her face a moment. “What’s a woman like you got to be nervous about?”

The low question hit her like a slap. Line Coryell had not only gone over the line, he’d managed to strike deep into painful places. The emotion that surged up caught her by surprise and her eyes were suddenly stinging.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she shot back, dismayed that her voice was choked. And that made her angry. “Give me the bottle.”

Linc slipped it into his shirt pocket and buttoned the pocket flap. The action sent her temper skyrocketing.

“How dare you?” Her voice shook with outrage.

“You keep asking that, Miz Maddie,” he said calmly, his gaze unwavering. “I dare a lot, and I’ll dare a damn sight more in the next few days. But I’d rather walk out of here with a neurotic sissy on my hands than a neurotic stoned sissy.” He nodded in the direction of her luggage. “Now let’s get that out of the way.”

The quick shift of subject and his smooth move to reach for the large suitcase caught her off guard.

He had it open in a moment and began to sort through everything. The sight of his big hands rifling carelessly through her personal belongings offended her.

“I need everything there,” she repeated, then reached over to close the lid of the suitcase. Before she could, Line seized her wrist. Her gaze flew to his.

“Look around, Maddie.”

The solemn order sent a spear of terror through her that made her forget her luggage. The utter grimness on Linc’s face was unmistakable. A picture of dense green forest and high mountains flashed in her mind. But the endless forest she’d glimpsed from the sky would look even more awesome and terrible from the ground. The weird sensation she had—that the wilderness was closing in around them—sent her terror bounding higher. In spite of Linc’s order, she couldn’t look around, couldn’t make herself.