Charlene Sands (7 page)

“Please sit down.”

“Thank you.”

Tom waited until she took her seat before he sat again. Tess always felt that Tom and Laura were the perfect match for one another. He was taller than most men, a little leaner, too. He had a kind face and a witty mind and he loved Laura to distraction. Seeing him today was a refreshing change from the kind of man she’d been subjected to lately. Certainly Tom and Clint had very little in common, except they were both dogged in their endeavors, Tom’s being far more altruistic.

“How is Laura feeling lately?”

“She’s doing fine. Just fine. We’re expecting the little one any day now.”

“I’m thrilled for you both.”

Tom ran his hand through his hair nervously. “It’s hard to believe we’ll be parents soon. It’s what Laura and I have wanted for quite some time now.”

“It’s a precious gift.” When Tess looked at Tom, she hadn’t realized she’d given away her innermost feelings until she saw the sympathetic expression on his face.

“It’ll happen for you one day, Tess.”

“I’m a widow with no plans to marry again, so it’s doubtful.” Then she turned her attention to the real reason for her visit. “I came here to ask you a favor, Tom. I’m planning on having a women’s meeting in town and I’d like you to print up the invitations for me.”

He began nodding almost immediately, taking up a pen to jot things down. “Do you want it to go into the
Herald
?”

“Yes, but I want small posters, as well, that I can distribute to all Hayworth holdings. I want the men to know I fully expect their wives and daughters to be present at this meeting. I’ve given it some thought. What do you think of Hayworth’s Sociable Ladies Alliance Partnership? S-L-A-P.”

Tom’s attention riveted to her face, his eyes opening wider. “Is that what you honestly want me to write?”

Tess sighed. “If I thought I could get away with it, I’d say yes, because there’s a bit of the devil in me. I want to make my point, but I need to be more discreet than that. There’s no telling how far I can push—but, darn it, this is important, and I want the women to open up and have the freedoms I never had.”

“Not SLAP, then,” Tom said with relief. “This is about those women you and Laura have been seeing, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is. It’s time someone stood up for women who haven’t found a way to stand up for themselves yet. It’s time they learned that they don’t have to take the mistreatment they’ve been handed. If I have to use the Hayworth name and resources to help them, then I will with an open heart.”

Tom began nodding again. “So what will you call these mandatory meetings?”

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll find a gentler way to term it, Tom. The meetings aren’t by any means obligatory, but you’ll be sure to note in your invitation that I’d be greatly disappointed if some of the women couldn’t attend.
Understood?
”

He set down his pen and rubbed at the morning stubble on his jaw. “Understood, Tess. Bullying the menfolk, aren’t you?”

“Just playing the cards in my hand.”

“With a stacked deck?” His thin brows rose in question, but his smile held approval.

“But I’m not bluffing. Hoyt helped me and I’m going to do my best to help other women. I’ll use the Hayworth influence for some good.”

“I admire you and what you’re trying to do, but I’m not entirely sure—”

“I know what I’m facing, Tom. I know that some men won’t be agreeable, but I’m holding the winning cards and I need to help.” Then a notion filtered in and she smiled with satisfaction. “Why, that’s the perfect name, don’t you agree?”

“What is?” His brows gathered in confusion now.

“Hayworth’s Exceptional Ladies Partnership—striving for excellence…in womanhood.”

Tom’s eyes lit with amusement. “H-E-L-P.”

“Exactly.”

They both nodded at the same time.

Tom picked up his pen again. “Now just fill me in on the details. When? Where? Topics of discussion?”

Twenty minutes later Tess walked out of Tom’s office feeling better than she had since before Hoyt’s death almost four months ago.

Laura looked well, though heavy with child and tiring easily. Tess kept her visit short, understanding her friend needed rest, and returned to the ranch late in the afternoon. She pulled the buggy up to the stables, and young Randy Wilcott came over to help her down, his gaze and attention directed toward the corral.

“Ain’t he a beauty, Mrs. Hayworth?”

She turned in that direction and saw a magnificent palomino, racing up and back, frantically searching for a way out, his lush white mane flowing, his coat shining like a gold coin in the afternoon sunlight. She recalled Hoyt’s obsession with catching this wild horse. He’d had a corral built higher than most with one added rung of fencing to keep the elusive palomino from making the jump—if ever they’d managed to catch the stallion.

“They finally got him,” she marveled, her voice drifting. She watched the horse fight for his freedom, snorting and huffing out breaths.

Hoyt would have been pleased seeing the palomino on his land, in his corral. He’d held a fascination for the stallion, spotting him on his land in his healthier days and wanting that steed for himself. When she’d questioned the justice of penning an animal who longed to be free, Hoyt had assured her, “No need to worry. He’s an untamed spirit, Tess. He’ll always be free.” His eyes had glittered at the prospect.

“Mr. Hayworth plans on riding him one day,” Randy said with exuberance. “The boys are taking bets how many times he gets thrown. I got me a bet on thirty times.”

Tess glanced at Randy, and her good mood soured when the palomino rose up, his forelegs lifting in a fit of frustration. “He’ll get trampled.”

“We’ve got us bets on that, too,” he said before catching himself. “Oh, I mean, not that we want that to happen. And if anybody can take the vinegar outta that horse, it’d be Mr. Hayworth. He’s got him a knack, he does. We’ve all seen it, ma’am.”

Tess had seen it, too, but she feared Clint had met his match. The palomino wasn’t just wild; this horse seemed borne of the land, as ferocious as Texas storms and as powerful as a rushing river. There was something in his coal black eyes that put fear in her. And once again she marveled at how she could find such beauty in something so innately fierce.

Clint came out of the bunkhouse, laughing with one of the ranch hands, and strode up to the fence. Wearing his hat, he tied leather chaps over his trousers, his gaze directly on the stallion.

“Excuse me, Randy.” Tess lifted her skirts and walked over to the corral fence to stand beside Clint. “You’re not going to try to tame him?”

Clint stared ahead, watching every move the animal made. “I’m thinking on it.”

“Well, think again. He’ll crush you.”

Clint grinned and turned to her. “I’m touched that you care.”

The teasing tone in his voice only added to her exasperation. She couldn’t stand by and see Hoyt’s only son injured or killed. “You may think me heartless, but I do care. I wouldn’t want to see anyone injured on this ranch.”

“
Anyone?
Or
me?
” he said quietly, watching her with close scrutiny.

Tess’s heart sped. Something was happening to her. She didn’t welcome the feelings and she fought them hard, but she couldn’t deny that when Clint looked at her she reacted with a strange kind of desire.

She’d had to lie most of her adult life about her situation, but she wasn’t good at lying about her
feelings.
Those were raw and honest, and when Clint looked into her eyes she couldn’t conceal them. As crazy as that was, since he was by law her stepson, her adversary and her biggest hindrance on the ranch, she knew that Clint Hayworth could have a big impact on her life.

She was sure that wasn’t a good thing, but nonetheless the certainty of it made her breath catch in her throat. “What if I told you, I’m not sure?”

Clint’s dark brows lifted an increment. “Then I’d say I admire your honesty.”

“Well, that’s a start. I didn’t think you admired anything about me.”

He laughed, raking over her body in a hot gaze, grazing her breasts, then lifting to her mouth. “Then you’d be dead wrong.”

A shot of heat scurried up and down her body. Clint made her nerves quiver. “You haven’t called me a whore in a few days—I suppose that’s progress,” she said in a rush, then immediately wished she could take those words back.

Clint took his Stetson off, ran a hand through his hair, then reset the hat atop his head. “Well, now, if you’re attempting to distract me, you’re doing a good job.”

Clint had a way of misinterpreting her meaning. She decided a change of subject was needed. She couldn’t take the intensity of his stare much longer. “Clint, do you know what your father said about the palomino?”

“I don’t care to know.”

She ignored him. “He said a fiery spirit like the palomino’s would always be free. There’s no sense trying to tame him, Clint.”

“Yet Hoyt wanted the stallion, right? He put out an order to the men, offering a reward for the man who brought him in, because the palomino poised a challenge. He wanted what he couldn’t have. He wanted that stallion to lord over and for no other reason.”

“That’s not true.”

Clint watched the stallion prance haughtily over the earth, caged and ready to break free if given the chance. “It is, Tess. Wake up. See the man for who he was.”

There was no use arguing with him about Hoyt. “So why don’t
you
set him free? You could do it. Open the gate and let him go.”

“Don’t compare me to my father. We’re nothing alike. My intentions toward that animal have nothing to do with wanting to possess it.”

Confused and filled with rising frustration, Tess shook her head. “Then why, Clint? Why would you attempt to tame that horse?”

“To save it,” he said plain and simple. Then he shot her a look. “There are other things I want to possess.”

She took a swallow. “The ranch?”

He laughed again, quietly. “Meet me out here late tonight and I’ll answer that question.” He turned and walked away.

Tess watched him go, her heart in her throat. His invitation thrilled her, the excitement soaring through her system like an eagle in flight. But she was relieved at the same time. At least for today she’d succeeded in keeping Clint out of that corral and out of danger.

But he was a Hayworth.

And Hayworth men always achieved what they set out to do, regardless of the consequences.

T
ess sat at the kitchen table eating her evening meal in silence. Greta fussed over her, setting dishes of spiced beef, creamy potatoes, beets and string beans in front of her. The cook hadn’t come around, leastwise not that Tess could tell, but a dose of pride and a strong work code had her fixing up plates of food and serving her fare as if Tess were royalty. No one would ever best Greta Deutch.

So as not to upset the cook, Tess put small amounts of food on her plate and began nibbling. She had little appetite tonight.

“
Wouldt
be better if Clint ate here each night.”

Most nights he chose to eat outdoors with the ranch hands. Greta spent her days cooking the morning and evening meals to send out to the men. Hoyt had insisted they eat well, and Greta took great pride in the ranch hands’ meals, as well. Randy and another man would come in and take the big pots of food out to the men, and occasionally Greta would go outside to serve them and make sure they had enough to eat, but secretly Tess believed she enjoyed receiving their compliments and praise.

“Clint doesn’t like the company in here,” Tess replied, gaining a grunt from Greta.

“He’s a
goodt
man. He
needts
a
goodt
woman.”

And that didn’t mean her, the money-grubbing, deceitful woman who’d come to the ranch looking for employment and managed to marry Greta’s employer, the richest man in the territory. Her message came through clearly.

“I know you miss Clint, Greta. Maybe if I ate my meals in my room, he’d eat inside more.”

Greta put one hand on Tess’s shoulder, keeping her in her seat. “You sit. Your place is here.”

Tess looked up from the table to meet with Greta’s light brown eyes. Greta nodded for an instant, then made herself busy with pouring coffee into a gold-edged china cup decorated with roses.

Tess smiled inwardly. She’d hoped Greta would come around and maybe this was her first gesture of acceptance. Hoyt wouldn’t stand for anything but her full approval, so Greta had been civil to Tess while Hoyt was alive, but afterward Greta had looked upon her as a trespasser. She didn’t trust her, believing, like Clint, that she was out to usurp the family fortune and good name.

Tess cleared away her plate, meeting with a quick but gentle slap on the hand from Greta, who immediately took the plate from her.

Tess flinched from the contact, jumping back instinctively, recalling her father’s brutal touch.

Take this damn plate away. Lousy imitation of a meal anyway.

She shook off the harsh reminder of her childhood.

“
Goodt
ness.” Greta appeared momentarily shaken. “You
godt
to be strong.”

“I’m trying, Greta.”

Her comment came out sounding like a weary, defeated plea, and Greta’s expression changed. She turned knowing eyes her way. “You don’t let any man
hurdt
you ever again.”

Was it that obvious? Tess thought she’d been doing a good job of hiding her secrets and her past. But the truth remained that men had hurt her, both physically and emotionally. And she struggled every day to be strong, to be free of that confining prison. Most days she succeeded, and nothing surprised her more than her recoil at Greta’s light but revealing reprimand just now.

“I don’t plan to, Greta. Sometimes it’s hard forgetting.”

Greta closed her eyes. “I know.”

“You do?”

She nodded and looked at Tess with newfound understanding. “I left my
husbandt
many years ago. He was not kind. He is dead now. And it’s a
goodt
thing.”

“Oh, Greta, I’m sorry.”

Greta set her lips in a smile so rare and heartwarming that Tess could have hugged her. “My sorrow was over long ago, but the memories stay if you let them. You
shouldt
let them go.”

“Oh, Greta,” she said with a measure of hope now. “I will let them go…in time.”

And then Tess revealed her plan to help the women of Hayworth who would otherwise have nowhere else to turn for help, explaining about the meetings with that very same name. In those moments, something shifted slightly in the universe between her and Greta. Through a mutual history they seemed to have formed a tentative bond.

When Tess left the kitchen, she climbed the stairs to her bedroom feeling exhausted both mentally and physically. Her bed beckoned, the comfort of a soft mattress and even softer goose-feather pillows.

She undressed slowly, removing her shoes and stockings and her gown, putting everything away neatly. She moved to the window to take one last look at the land and wish Hoyt a goodnight, as she had every night since he’d died, the ritual beginning when he’d taken very ill.

“What’s it look like tonight?” he’d ask from his bed. “Tell me, how many stars are out? Has peace settled over the ranch yet?”

And Tess would tell him when he was too weak to see for himself. After his death she continued in that practice, appraising the land, the stars and the ranch he loved so much, silently, her way of assuring him she would carry out his last wishes.

A shadow of a man caught her eye. Out by the palomino’s corral. Surely it wasn’t Clint.

Meet me out here late tonight.

Had he been serious with that taunt? The notion had put exciting images in her head all day long, and if truth be told, she’d secretly wanted to meet him.

There are others things I want to possess.

Her mind reeled. What would it be like to be possessed by Clint? Would he make good the promise in his eyes?

She stared at the corral, and the man turned, as if he’d known she was there. Dressed in her pale white chemise, Tess knew she should draw the curtain and move away from the window, but instead she stood there as if she’d been planted into a deep, tight hole, rooted with no way out.

Clint stood in the moon’s shadow. The brim of his hat shaded his face entirely, but then he pushed his brim up higher on his forehead and he came into full view. Even from this distance she witnessed raw desire on face, his smile, unabashed and…
sinful.

Tess drew her hand to her chest, reacting to him, the look of pure lust on his face and the desire battling within her. Her bones melting, she didn’t know what to do. The temptation pulled at her and she fought it like a tug-of-war.

But her next move was decided undeniably when Clint turned back around to the palomino’s corral and climbed the rungs, jumping over the fence.

“Clint!” she called out, though she doubted he could hear her or if her alarm would matter to him one bit.

She put her robe on, slid her feet into slippers and raced down the stairs, out into the dark night.

“Are you crazy?” she whispered with a sharp intake of breath. She trained her gaze on the palomino at the far side of the corral. His nostrils flared. His breaths spurted out. He appeared ready to charge.

She kept her voice low, but the palomino barely noticed her, both man and animal locked down in a stare as Clint stood facing him from the opposite end of the corral.

“I’m marking my territory.” Clint didn’t move a muscle. “Letting him know I’m here.”

“I’d say you’ve made your point,” she said in a hushed tone. Clint was hard to miss; his presence dominated wherever he went.

“Not yet.” He continued to stare.

Through the shadows of darkness the moon cast light on the horse’s coat, making him appear a golden mythical beast that might fly off into the clouds at any moment.

Oh, if only.

Tess held her breath. Clint knew what he was doing. The set of his jaw and the determination on his face had to mean something.

“He’s a smart one.”

“He looks angry.”

“He is. But he’s frustrated, too. He’s trapped and wants out.”

Clint could have been speaking about himself. He’d never wanted to come back to the Double H. He’d trapped himself in this vendetta against his father.

“You understand him?”

Clint slid his gaze to hers. “I do.”

The break in the stare-down riled the horse. He snorted with rising fury, then rushed forward, charging Clint.

To her amazement, Clint held his ground, keeping his gaze on the horse.

“Clint!”

Then, at the last possible second, Clint hurled himself over the fence, landing solidly on his heels.

The palomino stopped, stomped, snorted, then raced around the perimeter of the corral, thrusting himself side to side in a fury.

Clint took his hat off and slapped it to his knee, a big childlike grin on his face.

“You scared me half to death!” Tess was not amused—nor was she immune to his infectious smile.

“It’s nothing to worry over, Tess. I’ve done this before.”

“I’m not worried,” she said in a full-out lie.

His smile grew wider. “I know what I’m doing.”

She liked him better when he had a scowl on his face. At least that way she couldn’t entertain thoughts of liking him. As it was now, she had to remind herself why he’d come back to the Double H and what his intentions were.

“Do you?” she asked.

“I got you to meet me out here tonight.”

She opened her mouth. Then clamped it shut, taken aback by his clever maneuver.

The stallion simmered down, taking his place at the far end of the corral, watching them with cautious eyes, his snorts coming less frequently now.

Tess didn’t have that same luxury. She couldn’t simmer down. Her heart raced. Her body trembled. She’d been afraid for Clint’s life. And now she stood outside in the dark but for a brilliant slice of moonlight, with stars shining overhead, seeing a look of triumph on his face.

“I saw you up in the window, Tess. You wanted me to look at you. So don’t pretend shock that you’re here with me now.”

“You could have been trampled to death!”

“And you don’t want anyone getting hurt on the ranch, right?”

Again Tess opened her mouth, but she shut it just as quickly. There wasn’t any use sparring words with him. He’d just jumble them up to make them come out the way he wanted. “I’m going back inside.”

She turned to leave and got three steps away when Clint sidled up next to her, taking her hand and tugging her toward the barn. Oddly his touch didn’t send her into a panic. She followed him, and when they reached the barn, Clint whipped around to lean his back against the wall, drawing her to him and sliding his hands around her waist.

He held her carefully, without menace or threat, and she went willingly to him, allowing him the liberty of brushing her body to his, finding his gentle strength thrilling.

A half smile on his lips brought her attention to his mouth, and when she looked at him, he searched her face for a moment, their eyes locking.

Hidden against the dark side of the barn, where moonlight seemed to have vanished, Clint dropped his hands lower, his fingers splaying wide, making circles on the small of her back, sending magnificent shivers spiraling through her body. “You like the feel of that, honey?” His voice flowed out like smooth silk.

Tess swallowed and stood still, wanting his touch, but fearing it, too.

He moved his hands farther down, to the very tips of her derriere, stirring her senses and creating havoc inside. Her breaths came rapidly and her emotions rocked out of control.

“You know what I want to do.” Silk again, smooth and edged with promise.

“Clint,” she said, meant as a warning, but his name came out a breathless whisper.

He smiled right before he cupped her head with one hand and drew her lips to his. Their mouths mated and she reeled from the initial contact. Every nerve ending tingled with pleasure.

Sure and confidently, he moved his mouth over hers, but with enough gentleness to assure her freedom. It was her decision to make, but ultimately it was not. She couldn’t deny the impact of his kiss or the flutters inside from being claimed by this man.

He stroked her lips with the tip of his tongue, outlining their shape, then plunged deeper into her mouth, until small pleasured sounds escaped her throat. Their tongues mated, causing rapid-fire heat to shoot through to her woman’s center. A tiny ache built between her legs, and she felt unfulfilled and needy, a sensation altogether new to Tess.

She cupped Clint’s face now, responding to his passion and stroking him the way he did her, returning his kisses with equal enthusiasm.

He held her firmly and she arched her back, allowing him access to her throat. He drizzled kisses there, wetting her skin and catching the coolness of the outside air.

Her senses spiraling out of control, she barely felt the sash to her robe coming undone. It hung now from her shoulders, exposing her chemise. “I’ve seen you without this robe, Tess. I want to see you again.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, but when she reopened them Clint’s eyes were on her, his hot gaze ready to devour her.