gets like this when something awful goes wrong. Like that time Moze ran the jeep over his favorite shepherd dog. Or during roundup when the calves give us fits.”
“Pretend it’s roundup and bear with him,” Emma said in a conspiratorial whisper.
Brandy drew a long-suffering breath. “He threw a board at Herb,” he muttered, turning to stride away. “Only asked could he go to Johnson’s house to see his girl.”
Heather smothered a smile, shaking her head.
Emma glanced at her. “You wouldn’t know what’s wrong with him, I suppose?” she fished.
“Ask Tessa,” she returned, too quickly. “He’s been like this ever since that night he took her to the country-club dance.”
“That’s true,” Emma recalled. “But I seem to remember that he stopped by your room on his way to bed.”
Heather stared at her feet. “Just to see why I was awake,” she replied. It was nice to be able to talk, although she still hadn’t regained full use of her voice. She hadn’t dared try to sing yet. She knew it was too soon.
“He glares at you,” Emma remarked. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed it.”
Heather shifted from one foot to the other. “I’ve noticed,” she admitted. His anger had hurt, too, because she didn’t understand what she’d done to cause it. But she wasn’t about to tell Emma that.
“He’s looked after you for seven years and more,” the older woman reminded her. “Now you’re independent. You don’t really need him anymore. He’s finding that hard to accept, I think. He’s very possessive of you.”
“I found that out in the hospital,” Heather replied with a sigh.
“So did the rest of us,” Emma mused. “He went right through the ceiling when the hospital called the house and asked why he hadn’t come to see about you. Poor old Bill. I don’t think he’s ever going to get over what Cole said to him. Cole was like a wild man that night. Do you know, he took the plane up without having it checked? That’s a first.”
It certainly was. But Heather didn’t want to think too deeply about it. “He didn’t like Gil,” she murmured.
“The journalist?” Emma laughed. “You know he hates reporters. He’s been hounded by them too much over the years. Maybe he thought Mr. Austin was trying to get to him through you.”
She hadn’t considered that. “Yes, he might have,” she said, nodding.
“And, too…oh!” Emma went white and almost doubled over, sweat beading her forehead.
“Emma, what’s wrong!” Heather cried, holding up her stepmother’s thin form. “What is it?”
“Indigestion,” came the angry, muttered reply. “Oh, it makes me so mad. I’m going to have to see a doctor eventually, but I keep thinking it’ll just go away by itself.”
“Are you sure that’s what it is?” Heather studied Emma’s wan face and pained expression.
Emma stood erect by herself, breathing heavily as she tried to compose herself. She managed a smile. “Yes, dear, I’m sure,” she assured the younger woman. “Goodness, I have these attacks all the time. I just take a dose of soda or antacid and they go away. Nothing but indigestion.”
Heather’s set face relaxed. She couldn’t bear for anything to be wrong with Emma. It would hurt far too much to lose her.
Tessa was back the next day, clinging to Cole, and he didn’t seem to mind at all. His eyes remained fixed on her slim figure, and Heather wanted to cry out. It had always bothered her to see them together, but it had never hurt like this. She was looking at Cole with new eyes now. He was powerfully built, his body every inch an athlete’s. He could never have been called handsome, but his very arrogance was magnetic, and the silvery eyes under his jutting brow could charm as well as chill when he wanted them to.
He lavished charm on Tessa that evening. Linking her slender fingers with his, he gave her all his attention as they discussed business in the living room. Tessa knew as much about ranching as her father did, and she had a shrewd business sense. But right now, she was busy being a woman, and Heather felt a surge of pure jealousy in the pit of her stomach as she glanced toward the living room on her way to bed. She remembered too well the feel of Cole’s fingers on her face, the sound of his deep voice. She longed for the touch of his mouth, and her own stirrings frightened her.
Jealousy like this usually accompanied love, she knew. But Cole was her stepbrother. Despite the fact that she’d always put him on a pedestal, he wasn’t an object of her desire…or was he?
* * *
Late the next afternoon, Heather strolled out toward the corral, dressed in jeans and a soft blue cotton shirt with a deep wine pullover sweater protecting her from the chill. There were dark clouds overhead and a storm was threatening. If it had been spring or summer, she’d have sworn it was tornado weather. Even though a tornado was unlikely at this time of year, the wind was fierce.
In the corral, Cole was just swinging into the saddle of a horse Alonzo was breaking for the remuda. His tall figure was immediately recognizable as he caught the reins in one hand and ordered the men back. All at once the chestnut horse became a blur of frantic motion, but Cole’s posture was faultless as he rocked with the horse, whipping back and forth in the saddle as if he’d been stuck to it with instant glue. His batwing chaps flying, he clenched his hat in one lean, powerful hand while the other controlled the furious animal. Cowboys hung on to the fence, laughing and cheering, and she could see the excitement of the challenge in Cole’s hard face even at a distance. There was confidence in every line of his body, confidence coupled with a lithe grace that was blatantly masculine.
The horse gave up long before Cole and stood panting wildly, its legs trembling from exertion. Cole dismounted and gently patted the soft mane, talking to the horse in the same quiet way that he had often spoken to Heather when she was frightened.
When he saw her standing there, his face seemed to go even harder. He looked up as the first drops of rain burst out of the sky and said something to his men. Then he slammed his hat down over his eyes at its usual arrogant slant and started toward her, stripping off the batwing chaps as he walked. He held them over one arm and caught her around the waist with the other, herding her toward the nearby barn as the sky opened up and dumped a spray of liquid bullets onto them.
“You can’t afford a chill right now,” he shot at her. “Run, girl!”
She raced beside him, exhilarated even as his long legs easily outdistanced her. When they reached the barn, her face was flushed, her eyes laughing, her hair in a glorious tumble. Inside, two rows of neat stalls were separated by a long aisle filled with fresh honey-colored wood shavings that made a cushion on the hard ground. She pushed her hair out of her blue eyes and laughed up at Cole as they stood by the door, watching the cold rain pelt down on the paddocks between the barn and the house.
His eyes flicked over her and moved away, back to the rain. He tossed the chaps and his hat aside, idly reaching in his pocket for a cigarette. She watched him light it, her eyes drawn to his strong, tanned fingers as they worked the lighter. The nails were flat and clean, despite the manual labor he occasionally engaged in.
“I didn’t
