Branded (19 page)

She fished in her reticule for the money Grady had sent her. Carolina Talbot was now pretending to be interested in some bonnets at the back of the shop, but she watched every move that Lacey made. It all made sense now. The extreme reaction of the people in town, they had been expecting fireworks. They'd seen both Slade and Carolina arrive and known their history.

The window Slade had crashed through had been hers. The scar, a souvenir of their illicit tryst. A painful reminder of his father's death. Sheriff Talbot had been the jealous husband bent on revenge. No wonder there was such obvious hatred between Slade and Sheriff Talbot.

Lacey dragged her fingers through the bin of tiny white beads. Gertie handed her a small cloth pouch. "Two cents for a scoopful. Very pretty sewn along the border of the veil or neckline."

Lacey envisioned a sparkling embroidery of flowers and hummingbirds, and before she knew it, the bag was weighted with beads.

"You know, Miss, it will take you months to attach that many tiny beads--let alone to hand sew the dress."

"Months, really?" Lacey stood for a moment considering. "Hmmm, in that case...." She dug the little tin shovel in deep again and brought it up brimming with opalescent beads. She listened with satisfaction as she sprinkled them into the bag.

Lacey had gone mad waiting for the men to arrive home with the new cattle. Or more particularly, one man. She sat on the rocker, once again, counting the porch planks. There weren't even enough boring chores, with most of the men gone, to break up the boredom.

Dora came out onto the porch drying a plate and looked down the empty path. "They'll be home today. I can feel it."

Lacey wasn't convinced. Dora had been making the exact same prediction every morning this week.

Dora walked back inside and then almost immediately walked back out, still drying the same dish. "Hope those boys didn't run into any bad weather."

Dora was starting to make her nervous. "I think I'll head to the barn and give Irish a grooming."

Lacey led the old horse out into the sunlight and tied her to a fencepost. She brushed Irish's neck and the horse turned her head suddenly, nearly smacking Lacey with her nose. The usually unflappable mare was finding something very interesting in the distance. Her nostrils started twitching. Lacey felt a vibration under her feet and squinted toward the gate. He was back.

She ran to the house and collided with Dora who dropped the plate she'd been drying all morning. It shattered. Shards of china, now polished to a high sheen, were strewn in the dirt.

Lacey bit her lip at the sight of him astride his horse. His black hat was powdered with trail dust as was his long black coat. He swung out of the saddle even before reining the horse to a full stop. He scooped up Dora and swung her around in a wide arc. Lacey tried to look inconspicuous. She hoped he didn't think she was waiting for a hug. She decided it was best to walk away.

"That’s a fine welcome, Duchess," he yelled.

Before she’d even squeaked out the word hello, he had her in his arms.

She clutched desperately at him.

"Miss me, little thing?"

She clung to him unable to say a word. Lacey felt as if she could go on holding him forever.

He felt so warm and solid. So totally dependable. Something she had never expected to feel about him.

Dora cleared her throat. Slade rubbed the top of Lacey’s head with his chin before setting her on her feet.

# # #

Lacey plucked another ripe tomato off the vine. She glanced up as Dora approached with a little lift in her step, like a woman with good news to deliver.

What if Grady had returned? She fumbled the tomato. It landed by her feet, splitting down the center. With each passing day, she'd dreaded his return more. How would she be able to hide her feelings for Slade? More importantly, how would she be able to pretend she had feelings for Grady?

"Lacey, honey, come back to the house."

Lacey braced herself for the worst.

"I had Tait and Blue clean up the clutter in that old sewing room. Now there's a big open space to work in. I even mopped the floor so you can cut your patterns out right there in the center of the room."

Lacey felt her shoulders relax. "Patterns?" she asked.

"For your wedding dress, silly thing. Unless you're willing to wear those ragged denims on your big day."

Lacey looked down at her trousers. She'd taken a long ride on Irish earlier in the day and hadn't gotten around to changing. Her pants were covered with dirt and horse hair. In addition, the hems were tattered and frayed.

It would suit her fine to stand at the altar looking like this. It was a wicked thought. Because there was one thing about Grady she remembered well, he was always immaculately garbed.

"I don't think you should put it off any longer, dear. It's obvious you are a remarkable seamstress, but a fancy gown like that will take time to make."

"Of course, you're right, Dora. I'll just gather a few more vegetables." She lifted her half-filled basket to show Dora. "And then I'll go in and get started."

Dora grabbed the basket and pushed her toward the house. "Don't you worry about the tomatoes. I'll get what I need for supper."

"Supper," Lacey said, a little too enthusiastically. "Certainly, it would be ridiculous for me to get started sewing when mealtime is only a few hours away. You'll need my help."

"Nonsense. I've been cooking by myself for years. I'm sure I can manage without you for an afternoon."

"I suppose, I should get started." She shuffled back to the house like a scolded child being sent to her room for punishment.

# # #

"Ouch! Bloody needle!" Lacey cursed as she pricked her finger for a third time. "Blasted thing."

Kneeling over the cloth, she angrily repositioned the flimsy paper pattern she had cut. The slippery silk fabric thwarted her at every turn. Normally, sewing, even something as difficult as her own wedding gown, would have been a challenging, yet enjoyable task. But today, she couldn't seem to do anything right.

With a sigh, she sat back on her heels. She jutted out her bottom lip to blow a strand of hair from her face. 'Twas obvious that her heart wasn't in it. Why hadn’t they married in England? She could have easily found the right dress in the European shops. If it hadn’t been for Dora and delivering those legal papers, she could have bypassed Colorado completely.

How horrible of her to think this way. Poor, innocent Dora had nothing to do with her unhappiness.

She glanced over at Oliver who was fast asleep in a corner of the room. He snored loudly, without a care in the world. Oliver sensing her watching him, woke and clumsily rose to his feet. Wagging his heavy tail, he walked over and planted a sloppy kiss on her face. She threw her arms around the dog and hugged him tightly.

"You better go back to your corner. I don't need you walking over this fabric and making a mess of my work. I'm having a hard enough time as it is."

The wolfhound delivered another wet kiss to her face before she pointed in the direction of his previous napping spot. "Go on Ollie, go lay down." He dejectedly obeyed.

On her hands and knees again, Lacey prodded herself to get back to work. A noise from Slade’s room made her look up. She'd convinced herself that this would be the perfect time to work on the dress. All the men would be out in the fields. It's merely Dora straightening up his room, she assured herself.

Moments after returning to her pinning, the latch clicked. The door swung open and Slade ducked through the doorway. He surveyed the sea of white satin unfurled on the floor, then he turned his eyes to her.

He cocked an eyebrow. "I kind of like seeing you on all fours like that, brat," he drawled suggestively.

She sat back abruptly and hurled a pin cushion at him.

"What are you up to, Duchess?"

"What does it look like I'm doing? Sewing curtains?"

"Actually, looks more like a wedding dress to me."

"You really are quite the detective, aren't you? What are you doing inside the house at this hour? Don't you have some cows to chase or something?"

"I was changing into a dry shirt. Pardon me for not checking in with you before I used my bedroom."

She motioned to the door with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Well, be off. As you can see, I am busy." She occupied herself with adjusting the pattern pieces. It did not take long to realize that he was still standing over her. She stopped and looked up at him. Their eyes locked.

"You really going through with this?"

"I think, it’s quite obvious that I am." She picked up the scissors and began cutting the fabric. She heard him leave. He hadn't bothered to shut the sewing room door, and she could see him walking away down the hallway. She felt bad that she’d lashed out at him. The man hadn’t done anything to deserve it.

A sudden sharp whistle woke Oliver with a start. The huge dog raced across the pristine white cloth in a hurry to get to Slade.

"Bloody grand." The shiny satin was now covered with dusty paw prints. The strategically placed pattern pieces were now scattered around the room. Who was she kidding, the man was far from blameless.

# # #

The mud was knee deep and Slade could feel it oozing into the tops of his boots. He looped the rope around the steer's neck, and the animal jerked against it with more strength than Slade would have credited. Stupid beast. If Lacey hadn't heard the pitiful moaning and called them in from the fields, the animal would surely have drowned.

Slogging back out of the watering hole, weighted down with mud, Slade heaved himself into the saddle. He wound the rope around the pommel and prodded his horse forward.

He could feel the burn of the rope through his buckskin gloves. The mud made a sucking sound as the animal pulled free, its front legs buckling as it clambered onto solid ground.

Slade dismounted, intent on freeing the cow. It was then, he made what could have amounted to a fatal mistake--he looked in Lacey's direction.

She was wearing his fur-lined coat. It covered her to the tips of her toes. Raindrops glittered in her black hair. He watched as she tilted her head back and closed her eyes, smiling as the rain sprinkled her face.

He'd only taken his eyes from the steer for a moment, but it was long enough. The animal, not the least bit grateful for having been saved from a suffocating death, bellowed loudly and lowered his head. It charged at him. Slade jumped back, dodging the horn aimed for his gut. His boot heel slipped, catching in the muddy edge of the hole, and the steer made a second, successful pass at him.

Shouting curses, Blue and Thorpe jumped off their horses. They hurled rocks at the animal. The steer gave an angry snort, tossed its head, and bolted away. Slade watched as the blood, watered down by the rain, turned his pant leg a pale pink.

She seemed to be at his side in an instant. He was unsettled by the tears streaming down her face.

"Go home," he ordered.

She worked her hand out from beneath the long sleeve and reached for him. If he'd had any sense, he would have dodged her touch because she was definitely the biggest threat to his well-being.

Pain momentarily forgotten, his body shuddered with need as she rubbed his arm.

"Blue, get her the hell out of here."

"Needn't bother, Blue, I'm leaving." She shrugged out of the coat. "He's shivering," she said and handed it to Blue.

Slade couldn't help noticing how easily she sprung into the saddle. Or how she hunkered fearlessly over the horse's neck as she raced over the fields.

"Man, you goin' to just stand there and bleed all over your boot like that?"

Having nothing else to bind the wound, he removed his shirt and ripped it in half. Hoping to staunch the bleeding, he wrapped it tightly around his thigh. He snatched the coat from Blue, shoving his hands into the sleeves. He shook off Blue's hand at his elbow and hobbled over to his horse.

"Take my horse. He's so smooth you won't feel a bump."

"I prefer riding mine."

"I think we all know what you'd really prefer ridin', Boss," Thorpe said with a ribald laugh. Thorpe seemed not to notice that no one shared in his laughter, or that Blue took the precaution of stepping away from him. "I doubt, there's a one of us, who hasn't dreamed of ridin' that fine little filly. Right, Blue?" he asked with another burst of laughter.

Slade turned hard on his heels. He wouldn't have thought he'd have the strength at the moment to break a man's nose, but he was wrong. Blood dripped through Thorpe's fingers as he cradled his newly remodeled nose.

"You deserved that, you damn fool," Blue said.

# # #

Lacey stood at the parlor window and watched through the sheer lace curtains for any movement. His angry dismissal of her had again, made it painfully clear that she was in the way. No matter how hard she tried to adapt to ranch life, he continued to see her as a nuisance. She felt a deep hurt. Yet nothing could have pulled her away from the window as she waited for his return.

She plucked at the wet shirt that clung to her skin. She could only make out the silhouettes of the men as they returned. Two of the men split off and headed toward the bunkhouse.

She took a deep breath and waited as she heard his one confident step followed by a dragging sound. Escape to your room, she told herself, don't give him another opportunity to break your heart. All useless thoughts once she caught sight of him.

Near the watering hole, the splinter of moon had lent only a faint light. Lacey had been unable to make out the extent of his injury. But the homey yellow glow of the lantern hid too little.

Her stomach lurched. The blood had already seeped through the makeshift bandage. It would be only moments before the leg of his pants would be saturated.

"Woman," he said as his pale eyes rested on her, "You're drenched. Get into some dry clothes."

He swayed for a second and put a hand on the wall to steady himself.

"Shall I get Dora?" she asked in a half-whisper.

His lips curled into a sardonic smile. "Unless you have a notion to nurse me yourself?"