Marry in Haste... (14 page)

“Reed? Hello. How are you?”

He didn't know if Mallory was listening or not, but he wouldn't blame her if she was. “I'm fine.”

“You probably want to know why I'm calling when I… I just wanted to see how you were. I'm sorry for writing you a letter like that, but I didn't know what else to do.”

“You could have told me what was going on. You could have called. You could have asked me to come home.”

There was a short silence. “But I didn't do any of those things for a reason.”

He'd always had to pull everything out of her. She was so unlike Mallory who wasn't afraid to speak her mind. “What reason?” he asked.

“You're so strong-willed, Reed. I was afraid I couldn't stand up to you. Sometimes I…I just can't tell you what I want to tell you. This way I could. I met Jack before you left, and I didn't want to admit
how I felt. He knew right away we were right for each other, and I guess I did, too. But I was afraid to rock the boat, and I didn't want to have to tell you or your family. But your going away seemed to be a blessing. He's right for me, Reed. I belong with him.”

He could make his ego feel better and tell her he'd gotten married—apparently she hadn't contacted his parents and didn't know. Yet what purpose would that serve, especially when he'd be divorced before he went back? The thought of that divorce made him feel a lot worse than Stephanie's letter had. There was some analyzing he had to do here, but he wasn't going to use Stephanie to do it or make her feel bad in the process.

“Thank you for calling, Stephanie. But I'm fine. You did what you had to do. I wish you and your husband much happiness.”

After another minute or so of good wishes and goodbyes, he hung up the receiver. With what Stephanie had said playing through his mind, he stopped in the doorway to the bedroom. Mallory had laid out a change of clothes for herself.

She looked up at him, her expression serious, her eyes asking him questions he didn't know the answers to. In the expectant silence, he knew she was waiting for him to explain the call, to acknowledge what had happened between them, to let her know what happened next. But a lot of it depended on her.

“Stephanie just wanted to check in and make sure I was okay.”

The silence between them grew long until Mallory asked, “Do you still have feelings for her?”

Yes, he still cared about Stephanie, but… “We
knew each other for a long time, Mallory. We were friends before we got engaged.”

“I see,” Mallory responded, and he wondered exactly what she saw.

When she didn't say anything else, he knew he had to get to the heart of their relationship by asking, “Are we going to be sleeping in the same bed tonight?”

She looked startled for a moment, then her eyes flashed with the same indignation he heard in her voice. “I don't think that would be a good idea. In fact, on Wednesday I'll try to pin Dawson down on an exact date when he's going to be back and I can move into his apartment. That would be best for both of us.”

When she went into the bathroom and shut the door with a click, he swore, knowing there was nothing he could do about Mallory leaving, knowing what had happened in the barn wasn't about to happen again anytime soon.

 

The smell of horses and leather and raring-to-go excitement rode heavy on the evening air as Reed walked with Dawson outside the bull pens. Mallory, along with Gwen and Zane, Dallas and Maggie, Cruz and Savannah, sat up in the stands near the roping gates, waiting for the rodeo to begin. When Dawson had asked Reed if he wanted to go look at the bulls, he'd nodded. Mallory was staying as far away from him as possible. She'd told Dawson she would save seats for everyone from the Double Crown who hadn't yet arrived.

Reed stopped to study one of the bulls who would
either win some cowboy a purse or throw him to the dust.

Coming up beside him, Dawson said, “Mallory seems quiet tonight.”

It was an opening, but Reed didn't know if he wanted to take it. “She gets quiet sometimes.”

“You know,” Dawson began casually, “it's amazing how much I learned about her through the letters she wrote and our phone calls now and then. Tonight I think she's more than quiet.”

Reed glanced at Dawson. He was wearing jeans tonight and boots and a Western-cut shirt, but he still looked more like a chief financial officer than a cowboy. He was the only one who knew the whole truth about their marriage and maybe he could help Reed figure out Mallory. “I got a phone call yesterday from my former fiancée.”

Dawson leaned a hip against the bull pen's rough wood. “I see.”

“What do you see?” Reed asked. “Stephanie's married now. End of story.”

A gate clanged and a trio of cowboys strode by before Dawson said, “Mallory probably doesn't figure it quite that way. Are you sure this marriage of yours is simply one of convenience?”

Thinking about yesterday in the barn, Reed wasn't sure about anything. There was no way he was going to tell Dawson he'd taken his sister to bed. “I'm just making certain she's kept safe until you can do the job. I've got a life back in Australia, and she's told me over and over again she wants to put down roots here, independent of a man who might try and tell
her what to do or force her into something she doesn't want.”

“That all might be true, but it doesn't mean that she can't be jealous.”

“Mallory? Jealous? Of Stephanie? She doesn't even know the woman.”

“But she probably has a vision of her in her mind. I know you say this is just a marriage of convenience, but if it weren't, she might think you're comparing her to this woman you were engaged to.”

Could
Mallory think he was comparing her to Stephanie? Is that what this was all about?

They started back to the stands and had passed the entrance gate when Reed glanced at the bleachers and saw Ryan and Lily making their way up the steps. Then he spotted Brody and Matilda buying sodas from one of the concession stands. The smells of popcorn and French fries mixed with the scent of hay and animals.

Bumping Dawson's elbow, he said, “Come over here. There's somebody I want you to meet.” Matilda was just stuffing change into her pocket when he came up behind her.

“Howdy, cowgirl. Ready to ride those saddle broncs?” Reed asked his sister with a grin.

Swinging around quickly, she smiled at him. “As ready as you are.”

“Matilda, this is Dawson Prescott. Dawson, meet my sister, Matilda Fortune.”

Dawson looked a bit startled as his eyes seemed glued to Matilda and passed over her tousled braided hair, over her wrinkled T-shirt and jeans, to the tips
of her dusty boots. “I thought your sister was older,” he commented to Reed.

Reed wondered about the sparks in Dawson's eyes as he kept looking at Matilda.

“Just how old do you think I am?” Matilda asked Dawson, a slight snap to her tone.

“Eighteen?” he guessed.

“Try twenty-one,” she said with a smug smile. “Now maybe I should guess
your
age.”

Dawson didn't look any too happy to have been challenged but shrugged gamely. “Go ahead.”

Her gaze swept over him as his had swept over her. “Thirty-three.”

“Thirty-two,” he corrected with a frown.

“Guess I'm a better judge of age than you are, even though I
am
young.”

Reed knew his sister, and her back was up. Before this got ugly, he knew he'd better step in. “Dawson is Mallory's half brother.”

Soda in hand, Brody came to join them, and Reed introduced the two men.

Dawson shook Brody's hand. “I'll be spending the day with you tomorrow, helping you familiarize yourself with the files and any other information you might need at the offices.”

“Reed told me you're head honcho of finances over at Fortune. I'm looking forward to getting started.”

“I have to fly out again on Friday, but in about a week, I'll be back to stay for a while,” Dawson explained.

“It will probably take me that long to get acquainted with everything.”

Brody had just told Reed that Griff had stayed back at the Double Crown when music suddenly blared from the loudspeakers and a horseman rode into the middle of the ring carrying an American flag. Reed pointed to the section of bleachers where the Fortunes were seated. As the group walked toward them, Reed heard Matilda say to Brody, “I'm glad you're the one who will be working with Prescott. Stuffed shirt, if you ask me.”

Reed just shook his head. One of these days when Matilda spoke her mind, she was going to get into trouble.

The national anthem began playing and everyone in the stands stood. Reed took his place next to Mallory, but she stared straight ahead.

Annoyed with her standoffishness, he purposely let his shoulder brush hers.

She glanced at him, then fixed her gaze on the center of the rodeo ring once more. After the anthem finished playing and they sat on the bleachers, Mallory said, “Dawson told me he would be home for good by the end of next week. So I'll be moving out. I can leave the rugs and things, if you'd like, except for the desk. I'm going to need that.”

The thought of Mallory moving out made Reed's gut clench, but he wasn't about to let her see that. “You can take it all with you.”

When she didn't glance at him again, he told himself what they had was an
inconvenient
marriage that would be ending very soon.

A
t almost 11:00 p.m. Reed turned onto the road leading to the Double Crown. Dawson and Mallory were carrying on a conversation about the rodeo circuit. Reed's mood was sober as he considered the fact that Mallory was going to move out. It
was
a fact. Add to that his telephone conversation with Stephanie, and he examined all of it very carefully.

Stephanie's words had bothered him.
You're so strong-willed, Reed. I was afraid I couldn't stand up to you.

Why hadn't he seen the problem? Why hadn't he realized Stephanie's quietness was more than shyness? Why hadn't he given her a chance to express herself?

But then he thought about Mallory, her spirit, the way she confronted him. He'd all but forgotten Stephanie since he'd met Mallory. What did that say about his feelings for his former fiancée? Had he decided to marry her simply because it was time to settle down and she'd been acceptable and convenient?

Hard questions he had to answer if he wanted any peace.

When he pulled onto the gravel driveway at the adobe, he didn't cut the engine. Glancing over his
shoulder at Dawson, who was sitting in the back seat, he asked, “Are you staying for a while?”

“Don't you usually get up early in the morning?” Dawson asked.

“I'd like to go up to the barn and check on a mare who cut her leg, but I don't like to leave Mallory here alone after dark.”

“No problem,” Dawson agreed.

“I don't need a baby-sitter,” Mallory murmured. “Dawson, we have a security system now. If you want to leave—”

“I'll just come in for something to drink. You can show me the budget you told me about for your shop.”

Reed frowned. Mallory hadn't told him about her budget. But then, she hadn't been talking to him about much of anything.

After Dawson had followed Mallory into the cabin, Reed backed out of the driveway and drove to the barn and parked. He thought he heard the sound of another car, but when he climbed out of the truck, the night was silent. A floodlight illuminated the front of the barn. Reed knew one of the security guards Ryan had hired checked the premises about every half hour, but there was no sign of anyone else now.

He was opening the horse's stall when he heard footsteps behind him. Before he could turn around, three men jumped him. All of them wore ski masks. The burliest bloke, as tall as Reed was, caught him in a choke hold, while a second delivered a blow to his ribs. The rest was a blur as Reed landed a right to a jaw and shoved his elbow into one of his attacker's midsections. But there were three of them,
and one of him. They knew exactly where to land blows for the best effect—his jaw, the back of his neck, his solar plexus.

One of them leaned over him and said clearly and succinctly, “Send Mallory Prescott back to San Francisco or the next time will be even more fun.”

Then they were gone, leaving him bleeding on the damp cement.

 

“Are you sure you want to move out?” Dawson asked Mallory after he took a long swallow of iced tea.

“This arrangement was only temporary,” Mallory answered. They'd kept the conversation casual all evening, but she knew it was headed in another direction now as they sat on the sofa. With a sideways glance at him, she added, “With Lily's commission and my savings, I should be able to get my own apartment if you don't want me to move in with you. I know I just turned up on your doorstep, so to speak, and I don't want to disrupt your life.”

“You won't be disrupting my life,” he said quickly. “I'll be glad to have you. But watching you and Reed together, I wonder how easy it will be for you to leave.”

Could Dawson sense the hum of sexual energy between her and Reed? Or was her love for her husband that obvious? “It won't be easy, but it's necessary.” Setting her glass on the coffee table, she shifted toward him. “I think you should tell me more about
your
life.”

“My life is my work and coming out here on weekends to relax. That's about it.”

“No one special?” she asked gently.

He shook his head, and when she looked into his eyes, she saw a protective shield there. “Why not?”

“Too high-risk.”

“You can't put loving someone in the same category as an investment,” she responded, though her own heart hurt because she knew exactly what Dawson meant.

“I saw what my mother went through when our father left her to marry your mother. The bitterness and resentment still color her world. I don't ever want to do that to someone, or have them do it to me.”

“Dawson…”

“I mean it, Mallory. It's non-negotiable.”

“But don't you get…lonely?” she asked, thinking that when she'd made love with Reed, when they'd talked and teased and just spent time together, her heart and soul were satisfied in a way they never had been before.

“I'm too busy to be lonely.”

She knew better than that, and she'd sensed something tonight—a change in Dawson after Matilda had arrived. He'd glanced at Reed's sister quite often as they'd sat on the bleachers. “What do you think of Reed's sister?”

“She's young.”

“She's twenty-one!”

“She's fresh off the ranch with more sass than experience, and from what I understand from Reed, she was a hellion growing up.”

Before Mallory could process his vehemence about Matilda—something that sounded more like interest than dismissal—the phone rang. Looking at her
watch, she saw it was almost midnight. Maybe Reed had gotten tied up with the horse.

But when she answered the phone, it was a male voice other than Reed's. “Mallory, it's Griff. Something's happened.”

There was a note in his tone that made her heart start hammering. “Is it Reed?”

“Three men jumped him in the barn.”

Her breath caught. “Is he all right?”

Griff hesitated. “They knew what they were doing, Mallory. He's going to be pretty sore and stiff, but I don't think it's serious. Against Reed's protests, Ryan called a friend who's a doctor. He just arrived.” After a pause Griff went on. “Reed talked to Ryan about the men, but he won't say anything to us. He says he has to talk to you first.”

“I'll be right there.” Tears came to her eyes when she thought about Reed being hurt…. Did this have something to do with Winston? Or with Clint Lockhart? She brushed the tears away. She had to make sure that Reed was truly all right…and then, if this was Winston's doing, she had to think about leaving.

 

When Mallory arrived at Ryan's, the doctor was in one of the guest rooms examining Reed. She wanted to rush into the room, but she knew she should wait until the doctor was finished. Lily and Matilda stayed by her side, saying supportive things, but she could tell they were as worried as she was.

Brody came over to her. “I didn't mean to insult you or cause trouble between you and Reed the other night at the party.”

“I know you didn't. You care about Reed. That's what brothers are for.”

Tilting his head, Brody said, “I think you're good for him. For what it's worth.”

“It's worth a lot,” she said softly.

When Reed's brother put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze, tears came to her eyes.

Finally the doctor emerged from the bedroom, leaving the door ajar. “He thinks he's Crocodile Dundee,” the elderly man said with a shake of his head. “But nothing's broken, no signs of concussion. Internal organs sound and feel fine. His ribs are sore, and he has bruises—those will look worse before they look better. But other than that, he should be okay. Tie him down tonight if you have to, so he gets some rest. He really should stay in bed tomorrow, too, but I doubt if he will.” The doctor shook his head again. “One tough Australian.”

“Can I go in?” Mallory asked.

“If he doesn't come out first,” the doctor joked.

With a feeling of relief bringing tears to her eyes again, she stepped inside the room.

Reed was sitting on the edge of the bed, his soft chambray shirt open down the front, his hands braced on the side of the mattress. His lip was split, and there was a long, red, purplish discoloration along his jawline. He seemed oblivious to her, and she wondered exactly how much pain he was in. She wanted to start crying all over again. But that was silly, and it wouldn't help him.

“Reed?” she asked softly.

He raised his head then, and she could see his chest had the same red mark as his jaw.

“What can I do?” she asked.

“Pack me in ice.” His almost-smile was crooked.

Going closer, she knelt in front of him. “Do you have any idea who did this? Everyone's suggesting it had something to do with Clint Lockhart—”

“This is Bentley's fault.”

“How do you know?”

“Because one of them gave me a message. I'm supposed to send you back to California, or the next time will be worse.”

“Oh, Reed. Maybe I should go back and have this out with Winston.”

“You're not going anywhere near him. If they did this to me, God knows what they'd do to you.”

“But you'll be in danger if I stay.”

He closed his eyes for a moment. “Can we talk about this after I get some ice? I want to go back to the cabin.”

“Do you think you should? Move around, I mean?”

“If I don't move around, I'm not going to be able to move. Let's go.” When he stood, she wasn't sure he was steady. But as she slipped her arm around him, he jerked away. “I'm fine, Mallory.”

Why couldn't he need her, just a little bit?

Out in the hall, he brushed away everyone's concern. “I just need a good night's sleep.”

“I'll drive you,” Dawson said.

When Reed looked as though he might try to macho his way through driving back, too, Mallory intervened. “Please let Dawson drive.”

“All right,” he mumbled grudgingly.

Ryan handed him his hat. “If you need anything, you call me.”

Reed nodded and made his way down the hall. He walked through the great room slowly, but under his own steam. In the foyer, Matilda gave him a careful hug; Brody clasped his shoulder. But Griff said, just loud enough for Mallory to overhear, “If you need to do anything about this, I'll help you.”

The thought of the two brothers taking on Winston Bentley made her very nervous—and worried.

At the adobe, Mallory hopped out of the back seat of Dawson's luxury sedan and opened the front door for Reed. He glanced up at her, but she knew he wouldn't accept her help. He'd get out of the car on his own steam, no matter how much it hurt. Once inside the cabin, he started for the sofa, but she said, “Take the bed, Reed, please.”

He gave her a long look, then went to the bed and stretched out.

Dawson was standing at the door. “I think I'm going to leave you two alone. He doesn't want anybody to see him like this. But you call me if there's any problem, and I'll stop over tomorrow to check on him.”

“Thank you, Dawson.” Her voice got husky.

He wrapped her in a big hug. “It's going to be okay, Mallory.”

She closed the door behind Dawson and made sure the security alarm was activated.

Lily had given her three ice bags that they kept on hand. After putting two of them in the freezer, Mallory wrapped one in a fresh towel and took it into Reed. His eyes were closed, his shirt wide open. The
marks and scrapes on him were becoming more obvious. But even in his beat-up condition, she found him to be the sexiest man alive.

Opening his eyes, he trained them on her. “I'm not sure where to put the ice first.”

“I have more than one pack. How about some acetaminophen? That might help a little.”

“I'll get it.” He tried to prop himself up on his elbows and turn so he could slide out of bed without hurting his ribs.

Giving his shoulder a gentle shove, she ordered, “Stay put.” When her thumb met his shirt, she couldn't turn away from his mesmerizing blue eyes.

He cleared his throat. “I have to move to the sofa, anyway.”

“No. You stay right there. You should probably get your clothes off so you're more comfortable.”

“Wanna help me?” he asked with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

Reed getting hurt had taught her something about loving him. She'd rather love him while she could, rather than push away from him. “You're not in any condition for what you're suggesting.”

“And if I was?” His expression had gone dead serious.

“I'd help you take your clothes off,” she answered in almost a whisper.

He didn't comment on her change of course but pulled a long breath of air into his lungs. “Well, then, maybe you should get comfortable, too, and come hold the ice bag for me.”

It was an invitation she wasn't going to refuse. She couldn't wait to curl up next to him…tend to him,
love him, any way she could, for as long as she could. “I'll get your pills and be right back.” She laid the ice bag on the bed and went into the bathroom.

When she emerged with a small cup of water and the pills, he'd managed to undress down to his briefs, but the effort had cost him. Sweat beaded his brow. He was seated on the edge of the bed again as if he had to shore up his strength before he could stretch out.

Fetching a pillow from behind the sofa bed, she laid it on top of the one already there so he'd be more comfortable. Then he swung his legs up and lay back with a wince. “I guess we'd better put that ice on the ribs.”

Quickly undressing, she pulled on her nightgown, then lay next to him, settling the ice bag across his ribs. “Can I get you anything else?”

“You could kiss it all away,” he said, half joking, half serious.

Mallory, oh, so carefully, gently kissed his bruised jaw and then his split lip.