Part 11 (1/2)
”Tell me about it,” Mallory prompted.
Lily got a dreamy look in her eyes. ”When Ryan and I met we were so young. We fell in love. It was wonderful and terrible and everything in between. But he was rich, and I felt I was just a poor girl who didn't deserve his love...that I could never be worthy of a Fortune. His brother Cameron managed to come between us and caused us to quarrel. I did something incredibly stupid and lost Ryan forever. At least, that's what I thought.”
”What happened then?” Mallory asked.
”I moved away, married someone I had dated before Ryan but didn't really love, and forged a life for myself. But I never forgot Ryan or the bond between us, or his love and his respect. I had been a widow for ten years when I saw him again, and it was as if we'd never been apart. But this time no obstacle could come between us. Not even me being accused of his wife's murder.” Lily patted Mallory's knee. ”When you meet your true love, Mallory, that love lasts forever. Don't ever doubt that.”
Mallory had listened to everything Lily had said, but one fact stood out sharp and clear. Lily and Ryan had fallen in love and had never forgotten that love. True love, only love, forever love. Just as her mother had told her. The fact that Reed would probably never forget Stephanie sat like a lead weight on Mallory's heart.
The French doors opened and Reed stepped inside. ”I thought my wife might like to dance a waltz.”
He used ”wife” so easily, as if it were true, but they both knew better. Sometimes she forgot why they were going on with this charade, then she remembered. Winston. Forcing a smile, she stood and crossed to Reed. ”I haven't waltzed in a long time.”
”I'll refresh your memory.”
Remembering their dances at the Golden Spur, an antic.i.p.atory quiver went through her. As he held the door open, she preceded him outside. Many couples were dancing to the b.u.t.ton accordion's music. Reed found an empty spot and took her into his arms, but today they danced in the standard position with s.p.a.ce between them.
He gazed down at her and said, ”Hank didn't mean anything by his remark.”
”It's what everyone is thinking,” she murmured.
”You don't know that.”
”It's what I'm thinking.”
Reed's blue eyes studied her. ”We shouldn't have to do this much longer.”
The strength of his arms around her, the set of his jaw, the lock of hair falling casually over his forehead, all made her long for something that seemed much too far from her grasp. Being close to him hurt. She didn't know why, and she had to figure it out. She couldn't do that with him holding her. With him looking at her. With him dancing with her.
Her feet stopped moving and she pulled away from him. Keeping her voice low, she said, ”Winston doesn't have spies here, and I can't do this right now. There are enough people that we can mingle and talk without anyone noticing we're not together.” Leaving his arms, she went to help Rosita refill platters.
Reed couldn't take his eyes off Mallory the rest of the evening. She'd been right. There were enough people here that no one noticed that they weren't standing together or talking together or pretending to be newlyweds. She was feeling trapped again, he could tell, and he wouldn't be surprised if she wanted to take off before Dawson returned.
But he wouldn't let her. Men such as Winston didn't quit. He was just biding his time until he made his next move.
Above all else, he was going to protect Mallory from Winston. But he had to admit he wanted a lot more than to simply keep her safe. Some kind of bond had formed between them, and each day it grew stronger. It was based on desire, but there was more, too. More that he didn't understand. More that had to do with his engagement to Stephanie and how he'd almost forgotten about the dream he'd once had with her. Now his dreams seemed to be filled with Mallory.
Reed was sitting with a group of men in the great room later that evening, only half listening to the conversation, when Mallory came in looking for him. She came up to him with a smile, but he knew the smile wasn't genuine. He was beginning to be able to tell a lot of things about her.
”I'm going to go back to the cabin,” she told him. ”If you want to stay longer, that's fine. Cruz and Savannah can give me a ride.”
Standing, he said, ”I'll take you back.” His voice brooked no argument.
After they made their rounds of goodbyes, they drove back in silence. As they entered the cabin, the ceiling fan drew the night breeze with all its scents and sounds in through the windows.
”Cruz and Hank said it's fine with them if you want to work with the colts again tomorrow.” Reed felt he had to break the tension before she went and hid in the bedroom. Conversation concerning something she cared about might do it.
”Is it fine with you, too?”
There was something in her voice, a bit of rebellion that rankled. ”Mallory, I don't control your every move.”
”Sometimes it seems like it. There's a fine line between being protected and being a prisoner.”
The tension and frustration that had been niggling at him erupted. ”You know, Mallory, you're a spoiled little rich girl who wants everything her own way. Maybe you'd better grow up and take a good look at reality when it hits you in the face. If you'd rather be back in San Francisco with Winston Bentley, you're free to go. I won't stop you.”
”You know that's not what I want,” she said softly, looking hurt.
”Then I guess you're just going to have to make the best of a difficult situation.”
Her shoulders straightened, and he knew he'd set a match to her rebelliousness. ”I do intend to make the best of it.” Her chin lifted. ”Tomorrow morning I'm meeting with Lily to discuss redecorating a suite of rooms. Tomorrow afternoon I'll help with the horses, and tomorrow night, I'm going to create a plan for my life. I don't need to wait until Dawson returns to consult with a real estate agent about shop s.p.a.ce, or to call a few furniture stores and find out if they need an interior decorator to help with their clients. I'm going to put my life in order, Reed. Very soon you won't have to worry about protecting me.”
With that announcement, she turned and went into the bedroom, and Reed knew he wouldn't see her anymore tonight. She could be so d.a.m.n frustrating that he felt like putting his fist through the wall. Sucking in a deep breath and some controlled patience, he knew he'd be better off coming up with a plan to take the edge off of Mallory's restlessness.
A good night's sleep would help.
But as he unfolded the sofa and he could still smell the scent of her lingering perfume, he doubted whether a good night's sleep was any more likely than finding relief from the relentless desire he felt for Mallory Prescott.
Eight.
Around midnight on Sunday, Clint restlessly paged through a week-old tabloid Betsy had brought in. There was nothing in it he wanted to read, but he didn't have anything else to do with her waitressing at a twenty-four-hour diner and his thigh still burning like the fires of h.e.l.l. But his fever had broken this morning, and he was grateful for that. Maybe now he could build up his strength and get back on his feet.
He hated being an invalid, beholden to someone else. He already had Betsy under his spell. He could tell. When he smiled at her, she was by his side with a damp cloth or a gla.s.s of water or a cup of broth. But, h.e.l.l, he needed real food and new clothes and a plan. If he could get to the cash and fake ID stashed in his cabin on the Double Crown... He had to convince Betsy to stick her neck out and go get it for him.
When he heard the sputtering of her old car, he knew it wouldn't take much to convince her. All he had to do was to give her a piece of a dream.
She stepped inside, and two cats followed her. Clint guessed why. She was carrying a plastic box with something wrapped in tinfoil on top of it.
”Sorry I'm late, but I had a chance to pick up extra tips. I wasn't goin' to turn that down. How are you feelin'?”
He gave her one of his best smiles. ”Better. Thanks to you. You've taken such good care of me.”
Blus.h.i.+ng, she pulled a chair up beside the sofa and sat. ”I brought you roast beef and mashed potatoes. They let me eat whatever I want while I'm there, and I just told them I needed something for later. Are you feelin' up to a real meal?”
”I sure am. I gotta build up my strength.”
”You're not thinking about leavin', are you?”
She looked stricken, and he knew he had a tool if he needed leverage. ”Sugar, I couldn't leave you after all you've done for me. Matter of fact, I was just thinking about how I can repay you. How would you like to be able to go to the grocery store and buy anything you want?”
”Even cat food?” she asked, almost like a child.
”Cat food and candy bars and whatever else you want.”
”But how?”
”I told you how I was framed...that Ryan Fortune paid someone to kill his wife so he could marry his old lover.”