Lacy Read online

  "Before the war I did," he confessed. "After I crashed no. I couldn't allow myself to think about it. I had nightmares about your reaction."

  She laughed wickedly. "I'll bet you won't have them again."

  His arms contracted hungrily. "I worship the ground you walk on," he said. "My God, Lacy!"

  She curled into him, snuggling even closer. "One of the slats fell out just at the last," she said shyly. "We were in too much of a hurry to move the mattress onto the floor. I hope we didn't wake anybody up."

  He sighed. "I'm just glad it isn't summer," he said ruefully. She flushed. "I'm noisy."

  He bit at her mouth ardently. "I don't care. I meant the slats, not those exciting little sounds you make when we slide against each other."

  Her mouth captured his and she moaned.

  "We can't," he breathed into her lips. "It would hurt you now."

  "I love you so," she managed. "Cole, I love you so!"

  She trembled all over with the force of it. Gently, with quiet resignation, he drew her onto her side and, gazing into her eyes, slowly brought her against him in intimacy. She gasped as she felt the soft penetration and her body went rigid.

  "Only this," he whispered. "We can sleep this way, if you like. But your body won't enjoy anything more."

  She swallowed. This kind of intimacy was unexpected, and in­credibly satisfying. She looked down, her eyes wide and curious. He looked, too, and drew back just a breath, to let her experience the total reality of how fully they were locked together.

  She made a soft sound and her eyes lifted to meet his.

  "This is a miracle, isn't it?" he asked gently. "Male and female, so perfectly made to fit together in pleasure. It awes me."

  "And me," she agreed. She moved closer between his powerful legs, shivering as she felt the depth of his possession. Then she relaxed, her arms around him.

  His chest rose and fell slowly. "Lacy," he said softly.

  "Yes, Cole?"

  His big, lean hands tenderly pushed against her back. "I love you," he said heavily.

  Her body trembled. It was the first time he'd ever said it to her. It was probably, she realized, the first time he'd ever said it to anyone in his life outside his family.

  "Don't cry," he whispered.

  "Don't you know you've given me the world?" she asked brokenly. She clung to him. "You're my life."

  "You're mine." His hands slid down to her hips and pulled, ever so gently.

  And the contractions exploded at once, tenderly, racking them both in a hot sweetness that was unexpected and altogether impossible. Except that it wasn't.

  When the spasms passed, they laughed.

  "That couldn't have happened," he whispered deeply. "We imagined it."

  "No, we didn't." She nuzzled her face into his throat. "No, don't pull away. I want to be part of you all night."

  He shivered. "It's frightening," he said unsteadily, "to love like this."

  "Oh, yes," she agreed, but when she closed her eyes, she was smiling.

  By the time they woke, the bedroom was cold and they were lying in each other's arms with the bedclothes covering them.

  "It's morning," Cole whispered, kissing her awake.

  "Yes." She smiled, moving, and groaned. "Oh, Cole!" she said, grimacing.

  "Sore?"

  She flushed. "Yes!"

  He laughed delightedly. "Stay in bed for a while. I'll have break­fast with the boys this morning."

  "No, you won't," she teased. "I won't share you."

  He smiled at her and started to get up. Then he hesitated. Her eyes were faintly chiding. He frowned, but he got out of bed without trying to grab for his pajamas first.

  She sat up, her pretty breasts bare, and looked at him blatantly. There was no revulsion in her eyes, no hint of distaste. She could see him fully in daylight, see the damage that had been done to him. It wasn't half as bad as he thought, though, she decided. And they were honorable scars. But it wasn't the scars that were most noticeable, and she flushed a little.

  "Is that because of me?" she asked, her eyes curious and a little shy.

  He smiled ruefully. "Mostly. Although men usually wake up like this."

  She lay back, stretching lazily. "I'll remember that when I'm back in shape again."

  "There's nothing wrong with your shape," he said possessively, with bold, warm eyes. "God, I've got to get out of here!" he groaned.

  "I'm sorry."

  "Honey, I'm too uncomfortable to do anything about it myself, if it helps," he confessed while he pulled his pajamas and robe back on. He paused by the bed long enough to whip off the covers and stare down at her with hungry possession. "You're mine," he said huskily. "My own beautiful fairy."

  She lifted her face for his kiss and smiled when his hands swept down to cup her breasts and he groaned.

  "Go to work," she teased.

  He laid her back down and threw the quilt over her. "Bent double and groaning," he agreed. "I'm sure I'll get a lot done." "Cole?"

  He paused at the door and smiled at her, looking rakish with his night's growth of beard and his thick dark hair over one eyebrow. "What?"

  "It doesn't last, does it?" she said slowly.

  He frowned slightly. "What doesn't honey?"

  "I'm all used up, and I still want you," she explained. "And after last night..." She blushed in spite of herself.

  He smiled gently. "Yes."

  "I love you," she murmured.

  "I love you," he replied, and it was in every syllable. "Want me to lay a fire before I go?"

  "No, thank you. I'll get up and make you some breakfast. I.. .don't want to share you with the men this morning..." she began slowly.

  He threw back the covers and lifted her in his arms to kiss her warmly, hungrily. "I don't want to leave you, either," he whis­pered roughly. He clasped her close. "I don't want you out of my sight!"

  She clung to him, so happy that she didn't know how she was going to stand it all. Cole loved her. She knew she'd never want anything more than that. If only there could have been a child, she thought, promising herself that she'd never let him see her one glimmer of sadness in a perfect marriage. This, she told herself, would be enough. She couldn't ask for more when she had everything.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Marion was allowed home from the hospital a few days later, and she seemed stronger than she ever had. Knowledge of Katy's remarkable recovery had helped, she confessed, and having Katy come to see her had been the final balm.

  Katy was slowly getting over the shock of her ordeal, and she was a different Katy now. She was quiet and not at all bubbly. She sat and crocheted and seemed sometimes a little disoriented.

  Turk didn't press her. He stayed close to home. There were no more trips to town on Saturday night, and no more drinking. He didn't make passes at Katy or even touch her. He did occasionally sit and watch her crochet lace edgings for pillowcases, but his company was pleasant and nondemanding. She began to relax, especially when Lieutenant Higgins phoned Cole to tell him that all charges against Blake Wardell had been dropped, that the incident had been labeled self-defense, and that Katy would never have to become involved in its aftermath. Cole mentioned it. Katy was quietly pleased. Turk went out and drank himself senseless without a word, barely able to lift his head the next morning.

  Cole watched his foreman's behavior with more concern than anger. He couldn't make Turk talk about what was worrying him, but he imagined it had a lot to do with Katy's involvement with Wardell. Whether it was jealousy or outraged morality, Cole didn't know. For the first time, his foreman refused to talk about his problems to his best friend.

  Meanwhile Cole was finding himself at the end of some good-natured teasing from family, cowhands, and friends over his helpless delight in his radiant wife. When he had to leave her to go to work, Taggart and Cherry wailed for him, bringing a reluctant grin to his hard face. He kissed Lacy coming and going, and their life together was complete and satisfying. It d
isturbed him that he wouldn't be able to make her pregnant, but she seemed to accept the fact with good grace.

  The only cloud on their horizon was the worsening agricultural situation. Cattle prices were beginning a downward swing, and Cole was becoming more and more hard-pressed to find enough capital to keep things going. While the price of feeder steers had fallen over twenty dollars a head in the past three years, the cost of feeding them out was rising steadily. Cole had told her that he could expect—on his best day—to make a five-dollar profit from each steer he sold, if conditions didn't worsen. But conditions had. Farm equipment had to be replaced, seed and fertilizer had to be bought so that grain could be raised to feed the cattle over the winter. Calving sheds had to be built, fences had to be fixed, cowhands had to be paid. And all his expenses had to come out of the money he earned. A nearby ranch had already gone up for grabs at public auction. Lacy worried about their own situation. She could bail him out if worse came to worse. But she didn't like to think of the effect that would have on his pride. She prayed that he'd be able to find a way out on his own.

  Faye went to work for Lacy's cousin and his wife at their dress shop in San Antonio. A letter had come from Ben before she'd left. He'd apologized for the things he'd said and done, and begged Faye's forgiveness. He would, he offered, come home and marry her if she wanted him to, so that his child would have a name.

  But to everyone's astonishment, Faye had refused. She'd told Lacy to write him back that she was fine without him. Her eyes had twinkled as she thought about her new independence from her father's drunken binges, her poverty. As a shopgirl, she'd have a wage, and she was invited to live with her employers, who had a spare room. Her life was coming up bright and beautiful, and she wasn't going to spend it mourning Ben. She said so, patting her stomach. He could see the baby when it came, she'd conceded, but it belonged to her.

  Lacy was proud of her. Faye had been a brick when they needed help during Marion's stay in the hospital and through Katy's ordeal. They'd never forget her. Lacy and Cole went with her to San Antonio the day she left and saw her installed in Mrs. Ruby Morrow's front bedroom. Miles Morrow was Lacy's first cousin. He and his wife were older people, and they were delighted to have Faye's help. They were good people, the kind who opened their doors to anyone in need or trouble. They promised they'd look after Faye, and the girl was radiant. They even promised to teach her to read and write.

  Lacy paused just long enough to see her settled before she and Cole left.

  He was silent and a little angry, because Ruby had mentioned seeing George. He remembered the man from Lacy's party the night he'd asked her to come back. They were almost to Spanish Flats before Lacy finally determined what was wrong with him.

  "George is only a vague memory," she told Cole. "I only said he meant something to me to make you jealous. Heaven knows, you couldn't find a single reason to be jealous of him now." She leaned closer, laughing. "I wouldn't have the energy!"

  He laughed, too, the anger forgotten as he clasped her close against his side and slowed the Model T long enough to bend and kiss her cool lips. "All right. I don't like remembering how it was when you left me, that's all. So much time wasted!" His expression was eloquent as he looked at her. It was late afternoon, cold as snow, and the dirt road was deserted when he paused in the middle of it. "If only I'd known more about women, you might never have gone."

  "I'm very glad you don't know much about women," she assured him, her eyes adoring. "We were both innocent. That's precious to me, Cole. More precious perhaps than you realize."

  He sighed. "For what it's worth, I'm glad, too," he said, search­ing her soft eyes. "Have I told you that I love you today?"

  "Several times." She lifted her lips to his. "Have I told you today?"

  "Say it again, anyway," he whispered as he covered her mouth with his and inhaled her husky whisper.

  The sound of an approaching car didn't reach them until its horn sounded. They sprung apart to find Ira Cameron putting around them, a grin on his broad face.

  "That's what I like to see, married people who act happy about being married," he called, raising his hand.

  He asked about Faye, and they told him that she was settled and happy, that everything was going to work out.

  "I'll miss her," Ira said quietly. "But I'll never forget what you and Lacy have done for her, Cole."

  "She'll be fine, Ira," Lacy assured him. "We're going to bring her home for Christmas. You can come, too. There's always plenty of Christmas dinner."

  "Well, that's mighty kind of you," Ira said, "but I might go see my brother in Houston—and let Faye enjoy being on her own this year." He smiled, his eyes a little bloodshot. But amazingly he was sober. "She said she won't marry Ben."

  "She may change her mind," Cole told him. "Ben's learned a hard lesson. He's growing up."

  "He's lucky he can. War killed a lot of boys not much older than him."

  "Amen," Cole said grimly.

  Ira put the car back in gear. "I'll go along. Nice seeing you."

  He threw up his hand and careened off down the road. Cole turned back to Lacy, hesitated, and with a laugh pulled her close to kiss her all over again.

  BEN PICKED UP THE LETTER from home at the front desk of his Paris hotel. He sat down heavily on the bed in his small room. It creaked noisily, but he barely heard it. Lacy's letter was full of news, but foremost was the information that Faye didn't want to get married, thank you. She'd raise her child alone. Furthermore she had a job now and a life of her own, away from her alcoholic parent. She was radiant, Lacy said apologetically, and enjoying her freedom.

  He let the letter slip from his hands. So it was going to be like that. He'd hurt her so badly that she no longer wanted him. Perhaps he deserved it, but he felt as if he'd been mule-kicked.

  His head dropped into his hands. Poor little Faye, all alone and pregnant. He'd done her wrong. Really wrong.

  The door opened without a knock, and he looked up to see the tenant next door with a bottle of wine and a tin of biscuits. She was redheaded and very Parisian. He liked her, but she didn't really fill the soft spot he had for Faye, even if she was very good in bed.

  "Que veuz-tu, cheri?" she asked, smiling wickedly. "Vin, dejeuner, ou moi?"

  He shrugged. "Je ne sais pas," he murmured weakly. "Cette lettre est tres triste. C'est de ma famille."

  "Pauvre garcon," she said, coming to sit beside him. "Viens, mon brave. Je te console."

  He drew back, his mind full of Faye. But the redhead slowly unbuttoned her blouse and tugged it off, smiling invitingly. She had big, firm breasts with enormous pink nipples. They were hard now, and Ben bent toward them with a long sigh. At his age, he told himself, consolation shouldn't be underrated. He opened his mouth and heard the redhead begin to moan. At least he hadn't lost his touch. He slid between her soft thighs and, moving aside only the necessary things, he plunged into her with sheer desperation. She accommodated him easily and without fuss, her body ad­justing to his weight as the bedsprings began to protest noisily, drowning out her heated cries and his harsh groan. It was nothing like the tenderness he'd shared with Faye, and that was a good thing. He couldn't bear to think about her at all. On the floor, the letter lay as white as the snow drifting down on the Arc de Triomphe further along the street.

  CHRISTMAS PROMISED TO BE the best ever at the ranch. Despite the lack of money, Lacy and Katy made hand-crafted gifts for friends and neighbors and spent days in the kitchen cooking.

  "You look so much better," Lacy told her sister-in-law affectionately.

  "I suppose I'm not dwelling on it as much," Katy replied. She was wearing a very simple blue dress and no makeup; her hair was in a long pony tail. She seemed younger than ever, and less brittle. "I won't ever forget. I don't think I should. Danny's death taught me a tragic lesson."

  "I'm glad you came home," the older woman said gently. "We missed you. Even Turk wasn't quite the same."

  Katy sighed ruefully. "Turk feels
guilty about the baby," she said quietly. She knew that Cole had told Lacy, although for Marion's sake, he'd made sure that none of the neighbors knew. He'd spared his mother and Katy the gossip and unpleasantness of public censure. And at home, too, there were no recriminations for Katy. Everyone felt that she'd suffered enough. "That's all it is. He's around quite a lot lately, but it's all very correct and formal."

  "Because he knows you aren't ready for anything more," Lacy stressed. "He'll wait until you are."

  "What if I never am?" Katy's green eyes were sad, stormy. "You don't know what happened, do you? Even as close as you are, Cole wouldn't have told you."

  "It's no one's business but yours," Lacy said, smiling gently. "You know we love you."

  "That's all that's kept me sane." Katy put down her drying cloth with a sigh as she finished the last bit of silverware. "It seems like a bad dream, sometimes, until I remember. Danny's eyes were open, Lacy. Staring straight at me. So much blood..." She shivered.

  "He hurt you," Lacy said shortly. "A man who beats a woman deserves whatever he gets!"

  Katy grimaced. "Maybe so. But I feel as if I caused it. I was with Wardell and Danny saw us, Lacy," she told her, her face shamed as she watched shock tauten the other woman's face. Lacy liked to think that she was modern, but she really wasn't.

  "Oh.. .my," Lacy said hesitantly.

  "There's never been anybody but Cole for you, has there?" Katy asked, noticing the uncomfortable expression on Lacy's face. "That's the way it should be. But I couldn't have Turk, and Danny wanted to marry me. I took the coward's way out. It was terrible," she said, swallowing as she remembered. "I never knew men could be so violent, so cruel. If it hadn't been for Wardell, I think Danny might have actually killed me!"

  "This man Wardell," Lacy said, absorbing the shock slowly, "he cared about you?"

  "Oh, yes." She lowered her eyes. "Wardell loved me. I was drunk—and Danny's made sure I knew that Wardell's business was more important than my prudishness, that I was to do whatever

  Wardell wanted or..." She shuddered. "Wardell reminded me so much of Turk at first. I could have loved him, Lacy. He cared so much about me; he was good to me. It's easy to love someone like that. Wardell wanted to get me away from Danny, but I was afraid Danny might kill him."