The Heart Breaker (12 page)

Heather flashed him a grateful smile. When he had gone, Caitlin said, “Come to the kitchen with me while I get supper on the table.”

“I’ll help you.”

“No you will not. After the grueling trip you had, you deserve to be treated as a guest. Tomorrow will be soon enough for you to take charge of the household.”

They left Ryan by the fire to play with his new toys. The large kitchen at the rear of the house was warm and welcoming, Heather decided. The copper pots and pans on the walls gleamed, the walnut breakfront cabinet shone with a high polish, while the modern range put out a steady heat. The rectangular table was set for two with white and blue patterned china.

“Sit down,” Caitlin said, donning an apron. “We’ve eaten already, but I thought you might appreciate a meal of hot roast beef.”

“I think I could eat an entire cow, hooves and all.”

Her friend smiled. “Beef usually comes from a steer, not a cow. You have to be careful what you say now that you’ll be living around cattlemen. A cow is only a cow if it’s a female bovine which has borne two calves.”

“Ah,” Heather said wryly. “Thank you for the enlightenment.”

She sat at the table while her friend went about
slicing the roast and arranging carrots and potatoes and gravy on two plates.

“That seemed to go well, your meeting Janna,” Caitlin mused.

“As well as can be expected, I imagine. I’m a stranger to her. It will take time for her to accept me as a friend.”

“I know she’ll love you when she gets to know you. You seem to be getting along well enough with Sloan, at least.”

Heather hesitated, frowning. “Appearances are sometimes deceiving.”

Caitlin shot her a glance. “It’s not easy living with the McCord men, I know.”

“Sloan wasn’t at all what you led me to believe.” Her tone was slightly accusing.

“If you mean you find him hard and intimidating, I won’t dispute you.”

“You might have warned me.”

“Perhaps I hedged a bit, but it was for a good cause. If I’d told you the bald truth about him, you might never have agreed to marry him.”

Heather bit back a retort, unable to condemn her friend for meddling. Caitlin cared deeply for them both, and thought her prevarications justified.

“You should at least have told me he couldn’t afford to pay my debts. You made it sound as if his ranch was quite prosperous.”

“It was, until recently. For twenty years the Bar M has been the biggest outfit around here. But beef prices have fallen hard the last couple of years. And it’s been a brutal winter. Like a lot of the cattlemen, Sloan has already lost a quarter of his herds or more—and the snows aren’t over yet.”

And
she
had only compounded his troubles by driving him further into debt, Heather reflected with remorse. She sighed. “I know you meant well,
Caitlin, but I expect our marriage might have been a mistake.”

“You’re just tired, dearest. Things will look better in the morning, after you get a good night’s sleep. Once you settle in, you’ll like it here, I’m sure of it. It’s different from St. Louis—wilder and harder—but this land gets in your blood.” From across the kitchen, Caitlin gave her a penetrating glance. “This
is
what you wanted, wasn’t it? A fresh start?”

Heather nodded. The loss of her father had been a huge blow, while the responsibility of repaying his debts and keeping her school afloat and avoiding Evan Randolf’s maneuvering had proved a heavy burden. She had hoped to ease her grief by beginning a new life…
This
was just not quite the life she’d expected.

“I’m not certain I’m cut out to be a rancher’s wife,” Heather replied unhappily. “Sloan doesn’t think so, at any rate.”

“You’ll learn, and soon, I have no doubt. Besides, your ranching skills aren’t what really matters to him. This spread is a lot of things to Sloan—mother, mistress, duty—but his daughter means more. If you can help Janna, he won’t care if you don’t know a cow from a steer.”

Heather’s chin rose. “Well, I mean to earn my keep—and to repay him if I can.” She knew she was overly proud, but it was mortifying to be so indebted to him. Owing Sloan left her too vulnerable. “I don’t like being so obligated to anyone. I’ve never been inclined to take charity.”

“Good heavens, it won’t be charity! Sloan will be getting the better end of the bargain, if you ask me. Janna desperately needs a mother—and Sloan needs you, too, whether he realizes it or not.”

“Still … he’s so …” Several descriptions came to mind: Forceful. Dangerous. Overpowering. He was
all of those and more. “Frightening…” she finished lamely. “I have no notion how to deal with him.”

Caitlin set the plates on the range to keep warm and sat down at the table. Staunchly she took Heather’s hands. “You’re not really afraid of him, are you?”

She
was
afraid. Afraid of his power over her. In three days, Sloan not only managed to rake her emotions raw, he’d created a storm of rebellion and discontent within her. He stirred the deep lonely places inside her and made her ache for things she’d only dreamed of until now.

Passion and tenderness and love.

A pained smile twisted her mouth. She wasn’t likely to find such gentle sentiments with Sloan McCord. He wasn’t capable of showing them.

Caitlin was regarding her with sympathy. “I know he’s not an easy man, Heather. You look into his eyes and see things you wished you never had to.”

Heather nodded. She had felt it, that haunted bitterness beneath the cold mask. The bleakness.

“But you have to understand him. I told you about the range war, how long and bloody and savage it was. But Sloan suffered more than most of us. First he lost his father, who was shot in the back in a cowardly ambush. Then his brother was branded an outlaw and forced into hiding. Then his wife was assaulted and murdered by my father and his hirelings. It changed him, Heather. Sloan made vengeance his life.”

“He said he had blood on his hands,” Heather murmured.

“He does. Rumor has it that he killed my father for what they did to Doe, and I believe it.”

Heather shivered. Sloan seemed entirely capable
of taking the law into his hands and dispensing justice unremittingly.

“There was a time when Sloan was my greatest enemy,” Caitlin added seriously. “I think he might even have liked to see me dead.”

“You seem to have put aside your differences now.”

“Yes, but it took months of pushing and prodding. Making him trust me and accept me. It was like peeling an onion, layer by thin layer. No … more like prying open the rigid shell of an oyster. He would only budge a fraction of an inch at a time.” Her blue eyes darkened with concern. “The pity of it is, Sloan is still only a shell of the man he could be. He won’t give up the darkness. He can’t let go of the past, especially his wife’s death. I’m worried about him, and so is Jake.”

Heather searched her friend’s face. “What was she like, Sloan’s Indian wife?”

“I never met her. But Jake did, years ago when he was recuperating from his wounds after the gun battle with my brother. I told you that Wolf Logan rescued him and took him to his mining camp up in the mountains? Well, Doe was Wolf’s half-sister, a full-blooded Cheyenne. She was keeping her brother’s cabin when Sloan visited for the first time. Jake said she had this quiet way about her… peaceful and serene like a mountain lake.”

“Sloan loved her a great deal, didn’t he?”

“So I understand. But worse than losing her, he blames himself for Doe’s death. He believes he should have been able to save her. I think he can’t forgive himself for letting her die.”

When Heather remained silent, Caitlin squeezed her fingers. “Sloan is hurting, Heather. Surely you can see that.”

She nodded. His grief was real; the torment she
sensed in him was a tangible thing. And he had shrouded himself in isolation and loneliness.

“I think you can change that.”

“What do you mean?”

“If anyone can help Sloan, it’s you.”

Heather smiled wanly. First she would have to get past the granite wall of remoteness and reserve he’d erected—and that would likely be an impossible task. “I fear your faith in me is greatly misplaced.”

“No,” Caitlin said earnestly. “You’ll be his salvation. I’m sure of it.”

Supper was mostly a one-sided affair, with Caitlin and Jake and a chattering Ryan carrying the weight of the conversation. Afterward the two women washed up while the brothers went out to the barn to check on the animals and hitch up Jake’s spring wagon.

“Thanks for seeing to things while I was away, little brother,” Sloan said as they led the horses into the yard.

“Don’t mention it. The boys handled everything.”

Sloan glanced toward the bunkhouse where lights shone from chinks in the shutters. He kept a half-dozen cowboys, including a range cook, on the payroll during the winter months. Come spring roundup, that number would increase tenfold.

“It’s good you made it home tonight,” Jake observed. “Feels like a storm moving in. Probably hit tomorrow night.”

Sloan nodded as he gazed out over the winter-ravaged land. His senses honed by past experience, he could smell the threat of snow in the air. The night sky was a sheet of black velvet studded with ice crystals for stars, while beyond the corrals, the
foothills rose stark in the cold moonlight.

Despite the promise of more hardship, though, the sight was beautiful. The rugged majesty of the land never failed to touch him, no matter how brutal or dangerous. This was home. He’d had to fight for every inch of it—against sheep farmers, bigoted whites, the elements… He could endure another snowstorm.

It was his marriage that he didn’t want to face.

“So how are you cottoning to wedded life?” Jake asked curiously, interrupting his thoughts.

Feeling himself tense, Sloan forced himself to shrug. “Not so well. I think marrying her was a mistake.”

“Are you complaining?”

Yes, he was complaining. It had hurt, seeing the duchess sitting at his table tonight, as mistress of his home. Taking Doe’s place.

He sucked in a deep breath to ease the raw ache of memory. “Cat tricked me, saddling me with a tenderfoot. Duchess Ashford doesn’t know a mule’s tail about ranching.”

“She seems a game one, though.”

“Game enough, I suppose.”

“And she seems to like kids.”

Sloan nodded unwillingly. His fears had eased a bit, watching Heather’s gentle smile when she’d greeted his daughter. She was good with Janna, he’d give her that much. He’d been worried as hell that she’d hold the same prejudice most white women had against Indian blood.

“She’s not your usual type, I’ll admit,” Jake added with a fond note of humor. “A mite above your touch, I’d say. You don’t find a combination like that often—a lady who’s such a prime eyeful.”

It
was
a puzzle, Sloan reflected, how a well-bred gentlewoman of such grace and elegance could
arouse a man’s lustful urges. His unwanted bride had the kind of looks that made a man think of rustling silk and fragile crystal … and hot sex.

She was a grown man’s fantasy. Everything about her was profoundly sensual, from her champagne locks, to the chiseled perfection of her exquisite face, to her ripe, luscious body.

“You can’t tell me you found your wedding night a hardship,” Jake prodded.

“I can,” Sloan retorted.

As if to make a liar of him, his body responded powerfully to the remembrance of Heather naked and writhing beneath him. He wanted to deny the fierce passion that had exploded between them, but the memory of how she tasted, how she felt, how she responded, wouldn’t fade.

The consummation had been a mistake, he knew that now. He’d thought he could bed Heather and be done with it. Yet he hadn’t counted on his own lack of control. Hadn’t realized that after taking her, he’d want her even more.

Thank God he’d been able to mask his want. With the anguish of the past year, he had plenty of experience hiding his thoughts behind a hard face and expressionless eyes. Even if he couldn’t detach himself from the dull throb of guilt that reverted in his chest afterward.

“I’m not sure I see what the trouble is,” Jake kept up.

“She’s not Doe,” Sloan replied, his tone brusque. “That’s the trouble.”

Jake’s gloved hands stilled on the harness. “You may not want my advice, big brother,” he said slowly, “but I think Doe would be the first to tell you to let go of the past. She’d want you to forget about her and get on with your life.”

Sloan’s head came up sharply.
“Forget?”
His jaw
clenched. “Can you imagine forgetting
your
wife?” he demanded. “Can you imagine loving any woman but Caitlin?”

Jake shook his head. “No. Hell, no. But then, Cat’s not buried under six feet of dirt and rock.”

Sloan winced at the brutal observation. Pulling off his hat, he shoved his hand roughly through his hair, his jaw set like granite.

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit hard on her?” his brother pressed. “You brought her all this way. She deserves a fair shake. Give her a chance.”

Sloan let out his breath in a weary sigh. Jake was right, he knew. He had no right to take his anger and bitterness out on Heather. She was his wife now and deserved to be welcomed into his home.

But he wanted no repeat of their wedding night, when his passion had gotten out of hand. He couldn’t share his bed with her.

Or even his bedchamber.

That room was his sanctuary, the one place where he could find some measure of peace. Where he could remember Doe and the love they had shared.

The duchess could have no claim to that part of him.

She would just have to accept that.

They said good night to Caitlin and Jake and a sleepy Ryan, and watched from the back porch as the wagon rumbled away into the darkness. In the moonlit silence, Heather could hear the muted sounds of male laughter coming from the bunkhouse, could see her breath in the frigid air.

When she shivered, Sloan gave her a swift glance. “You’d best go inside before you freeze.”

To her surprise, he followed her into the warmth
of the kitchen. “You must be tired,” Sloan said evenly, bolting the door behind them.