like Monica, she was pale. “Surely you’re not as dense as that,” she mocked. She looked definitely pleased with herself, her red lips curling up in a wicked little smile. “There’s no use in pretending that you don’t know how Rule has used Mother all these years. But lately...lately he’s realized that you’re of age, conveniently widowed, and can have full control over the ranch whenever you decide to take an interest. Mother’s of no use to him now; she no longer holds the purse strings. It’s a simple case of off with the old, on with the new.”
Cathryn gave her a withering look. “You’re twisted!”
“And you’re a fool!”
“I’d certainly be one if I took anything you said at face value!” Cathryn shot back. “I don’t know what you’ve got against Rule. Maybe you’re just soured on men—”
“That’s right!” Ricky shrilled. “Throw it up to me because I’m divorced!”
Cathryn wanted to pull her own hair in frustration. She knew Ricky well enough to recognize a play for sympathy, but she also knew that when the spirit moved her, Ricky didn’t adhere too closely to the truth. For some reason Ricky was trying to make Rule appear in the worst light imaginable, and the thought irritated her. Rule had enough black marks against him without someone manufacturing false ones. The area had never forgotten how he had acted when he returned from Vietnam, and as far as she knew he had never been reconciled with his father. Mr. Jackson had died a few years ago, but Rule had never mentioned that fact in her hearing, so she supposed that the strain between him and his father had still existed at the time of Mr. Jackson’s death.
Unwilling to examine her motives more closely, merely acknowledging the surface desire to set Ricky back on her heels, Cathryn said, “Rule did ask me to stay, but, after all, this is my home, isn’t it? There’s nothing to keep me in Chicago now that David is dead.” With that parting shot she got to her feet and left the room, though with considerably more grace than Rule had exhibited.
She started to go to her room, because she was feeling the effects of travel and her long ride. Her stiff muscles, forgotten during the heat of battle, renewed their appeal for her attention, and she winced slightly as she crossed to the stairs. Pausing with one foot on the first step, she decided to find Rule first, prompted by some vague urge to see him. She didn’t know why that should be when she had spent years avoiding him, but she didn’t stop to analyze her thoughts and emotions. It was one thing for her to rip up at him; it was something else entirely for anyone else to take that liberty! She let herself out by the front door and walked around the house, directing her steps to the foaling barn. Where else would Rule be but checking on one of his precious horses?
The familiar smells of hay and horses, liniment and leather greeted her as she entered the barn and walked the dark length of the aisle to the pool of light that revealed two men standing before the stall of the pregnant mare. Rule turned as she emerged into the light. “Cat, this is Floyd Stoddard, our foaling man. Floyd, meet Cathryn Ashe.”
Floyd was a compact, powerfully built man with leathery skin and thinning brown hair. He acknowledged the introduction by nodding his head and drawling, “Ma’am,” in a soft voice totally at odds with his appearance.
Cathryn made a more conventional greeting, but there was no chance for further conversation. Rule said briefly, “Tell me if anything happens,” and took her arm. She found herself being led away, out of the circle of light and into the darkness of the barn. She didn’t have good night vision, and she stumbled uncertainly, not trusting her footing.
A low chuckle sounded above her head and she felt herself pulled closely against a hard, warm body. “Still can’t see in the dark, can you? Don’t worry, I won’t let you run into anything. Just hold on to me.”
She didn’t have to hold on to him. He was doing enough holding for the both of them. To make conversation she said, “Will the mare foal soon?”
“Probably tonight, after everything quiets down. Mares are usually shy. They wait until they think no one’s around, so Travis will have to be really quiet and not let her hear him.” Amusement in his voice, he said, “Like all females, they’re contrary.”
Resentment on behalf of her sex flared briefly, but she controlled it. She realized that he was teasing her, hoping to make her react hotly, thereby giving him a perfect reason for kissing her again—if he even needed a reason. When had he ever let a little thing like having a reason stop him from doing anything he wanted? Instead she said mildly, “You’d probably be contrary, too, if you were faced with labor and birth.”
“Honey, I’d be more than contrary. I’d be downright surprised!”
They laughed together as they left the barn and began the walk back to the house. She could see now by the faint light of the rising moon, but he kept his arm around her waist and she didn’t protest. A silent moment went by before he murmured, “Are you very sore?”
“Sore enough. Got any liniment I can use?”
“I’ll bring a bottle to your room,” he promised. “How long did you tough it out with Monica and Ricky?”
“Not long,” she admitted. “I didn’t finish eating, either.”
Silence fell again and wasn’t broken until they had neared the house. His hold on her tightened until his fingers bit into the soft skin at her waist.
“Cat.”
She stopped and looked up at him. His face was completely shadowed by his hat, but she could feel the intensity of his gaze. “Monica isn’t my mistress,” he said on a softly exhaled breath. “She never has been, though not for lack of opportunity. Your father was too good a friend for me to jump into bed with his widow.”
Apparently the same restriction didn’t apply to Ward’s daughter, she thought, stunned into momentary speechlessness by his bold statement. For a moment she simply stared at him in the dim, silvery light as she stood there with her face tilted up to his. Finally she whispered, “Why bother to explain to me?”
“Because you believed it, damn you!”
Stunned again, she wondered if she had automatically accepted, without really thinking about it, that Rule had been Monica’s lover. Certainly that was what Ricky had been getting at earlier, but something in Cathryn violently rejected the very thought. On the other hand, she instinctively shied away from handing him a vote of confidence. Torn between the two, she merely said, “Everything pointed to it. I can see why Ricky is so convinced. Whatever you wanted, you only had to mention it to Monica and she made sure you got the money to do it.”
“The only money I ever got from Monica was for the ranch!” he snapped. “Ward trusted me to run this ranch for him, and his death didn’t change that.”
“I know that. You’ve worked for this ranch as hard—harder—than any man would for his own spread.” Obeying another instinct, she put her hand on his chest, spreading her fingers and feeling the warm, hard flesh beneath the material of his shirt. “I resented you, Rule. I admit it. When Dad first died it seemed like you were bulling in and taking over everything that had been his. You took the ranch, you moved into his house, you organized everything about our lives. Was it so impossible to think that you might have taken over his wife, too?” God, why had she said that? She didn’t even believe it, yet she felt driven to somehow lash out at him.
He went rigid and his breath hissed between his teeth. “I’d like to turn you over my knee for that!”
