Coming Up Roses (18 page)
"Honey, you shouldn't let a lunatic like that upset you so." He hunkered beside her. "Here, drink this. You'll feel better."
Making a visible effort to regain her control, she accepted the glass with tremulous hands and pressed it to her lips. After taking one sip, she set the water aside. In a hoarse voice, she whispered, "Zachariah, I truly do think it's time for you to go."
Go? Not on his life. "He might come back."
"I'll handle him. You've only made matters worse."
He stared at her. "Kate, is Ryan Blakely the one who—"
"Just go! Can't you see that I don't want you here?"
Using the edge of the table for leverage, he pushed slowly to his feet. "Well, I guess you can't put it much plainer than that."
"I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt you. Please believe that. But you don't understand what he's like."
"Then enlighten me."
She pressed the back of her wrist to her temple. "Just go, Zachariah. It's for the best, believe me."
He conceded with a nod. "All right, I'll go. But understand one thing, Kate. If I see him out on the road, riding this way, the devil himself won't keep me from coming over here."
"No! You've done enough damage! Just stay out of it. The more enraged he becomes, the more he'll spout off in town. I can't afford that. Can't you see? I could lose my child!"
"The hell you could. No one in his right mind will listen to that nonsense."
She fastened huge eyes on his. "I'm not willing to bet my daughter on it."
Defeated, Zach turned to leave and spotted Nosy sitting near the door. With a heavy sigh, he crouched to scratch the animal's ears, remembering all the evenings he had sat by the fire in an empty house, Nosy his only companion. But then he also recalled all the times the mutt had gotten loose and gone in search of excitement.
Nosy had finally found his heart's desire, something Zach could never give him, a child to love.
"Tell Mandy Nosy's my gift to her." He glanced around, not wishing to go without telling the child good-bye.
"Maybe it'll make my leaving a little easier on her."
"No," Kate whispered raggedly. "He digs in my roses every time my back is turned. I don't want him here."
Incredulous, Zach stared at her. Up until now, he had never heard Kate say no to anything that would make Miranda happy.
As if she read the accusation in his eyes, she cried, "Just last night! You saw him! He's nothing but trouble."
"Miranda adores him. Surely you can put up with a few holes in the roses, Kate. What are a few flowers?"
"I said no!"
As he rose to his feet, he saw that she had tears in her eyes. "Kate—"
"Just take your dog and leave!"
"It'll break her heart."
She angled an arm over her eyes. "I don't want the dog. And I can't risk your being seen here. At least not for a while. I'll explain everything to Miranda as best I can. I'll make her understand that you'd like to come but can't."
The silence in the kitchen seemed oppressive. Zach's boots felt as if they were glued to the floor. She looked so…
Words couldn't describe it. Frightened. Frantic. And so alone, so terribly alone. His arms ached to hold her. Even if it was only as a friend.
* * *
After Zachariah left, Kate folded her arms on the table and rested her forehead on her wrists. Tears threatened, but she blinked them back. Miranda might come in at any second.
Zachariah… If she lived to be a hundred, she would never forget the look in his eyes right before he left.
Wounded, that was the only way to describe it. If only she could explain. Not that it would change anything, but then he'd at least understand. As it was, there was no telling what he thought.
His feelings weren't her problem. God knew, she already had enough to deal with. She just hated to hurt him. He didn't deserve that, especially not from her. She owed him for every breath Miranda took.
Taking a deep breath of her own, Kate pushed erect. Miranda. It was anyone's guess where she was hiding, bless her heart. Kate could only hope that when she found her, there wouldn't be a repeat of what had happened after Ryan's last visit.
* * *
"A fat little pig was dancing a jig, for he had got out of his pen. With a high diddle diddle, the fife and the fiddle was played by a cat and a hen!" Leaning on her shovel, Kate peeked over the partition at Miranda and winked.
"It's your turn, little miss."
Miranda, who was sitting on a fresh pile of straw in the adjacent stall, glanced up with a gloomy expression on her face. "I don't recollect any rhymes."
Kate sighed. "My, what a long face. If I recited the one about the pet kitten, would that cheer you up?"
"I don't got a pa to go git me a kitten, so why would it?"
Defeated, Kate folded her hands over the end of the shovel. Zachariah and Nosy had been gone for over twenty-four hours, and Miranda had been pouting every minute since except for when she slept. "You know, Mandy, I
—"
Miranda shot up from the straw. "Don't call me Mandy. That's Mr. Zach's special name for me. I gave it to him on official, and it's only for my best friend."
"Aren't I your friend, too?"
Miranda balled her hands into fists and rubbed her eyes. Kate could see her mouth quivering. "You made him go home. I heard you say it. You made him go, and you made him take Nosy with him. I hate you!"
Kate felt as though she'd been slapped. "Oh, Miranda, you don't mean that! Nosy dug in the roses. No matter how closely we watched him. You know I couldn't let him stay."
With a sob, the child wheeled and ran—straight into a man's braced legs. Ryan Blakely seized the child by the shoulders to keep her from falling. "So you hate your ma, do you?"
Miranda shrank beneath his touch and threw her mother a panicked glance. Kate was equally startled. She hadn't heard anyone ride up. "Ryan," she said softly. "What a surprise."
"I'll bet."
He regarded Miranda for a moment, as if weighing the advantages of keeping a hold on her, then finally set her free.
Even though the child fled from the barn, Kate moved her hands down on the shovel handle and got a steady grip. Not that she dared use it. The only thing that would induce her to do that would be if he threatened Miranda.
Her own well-being didn't matter. Not anymore.
"How are you today?" She knew that was a stupid question, but she couldn't think of anything else to say.
He touched his split bottom lip. "As you can see, I've been better. But I'm back. And this time, I brought digging implements."
Striving to keep her expression calm, Kate worked her grip on the shovel. It wouldn't do for Ryan to guess how he unnerved her. His blustering was just that, a lot of bluster. What alarmed her was the possibility that his wild accusations might cast suspicion on her. If, in his raving, he let it slip how brutal Joseph had really been, people might begin to wonder.
Only Joseph's riding gear and coat had been found along the banks of the river. His body had never been recovered. Without evidence so she could prove accidental drowning, Ryan might sway opinion against her enough to win custody of Miranda in a court battle.
It couldn't come to that. She wouldn't let it.
She could handle Ryan, just as she had Joseph. She wouldn't think about the times she had failed in that. Not right now. "Ryan, can't we please bury the hatchet? With Joseph gone, I need your support. You're the only friend I can truly count on."
"You have a
friend
, Kate. I take it he left?"
She moistened her lips. "He planned to leave anyway. We discussed it the night before you came. It wasn't at all like you thought." She tried a smile, praying it didn't appear as forced as it felt. No matter what it took, she had to defuse this situation. "I know it looked bad. I had already begun to worry about that myself. So I asked him to leave. I swear it."
"Really?"
She didn't like the expression in Ryan's eyes as he walked slowly toward her. Her gaze darted to the barn doors behind him. Even if running were an option, which it wasn't, she'd never manage to get past him.
"Of course, really," she said with an assurance she was far from feeling. "Joseph dead barely seven months. Do you truly believe I'd take up with someone else so soon?"
"Obviously, I do." He stopped at the entrance to the stall, his breadth filling half the opening. "I hope you didn't take what I said too lightly yesterday. I meant every word. Joseph asked me to watch after you and Miranda."
"I know." She searched her mind for something, anything she might say to pacify him. "The last time you came, I'm afraid I was a little abrupt."
"Abrupt? You told me to leave the house. My brother's house."
Kate swallowed. "I was exhausted. Short-tempered."
He said nothing. The silence gnawed at her nerves.
"How did your move from Seattle go?" Kate heard the fear in her voice and tried to slow her speech. "Did you get all your things down here this trip?"
He didn't seem to hear her. "If you refuse to marry me, I'll find a way to get custody of my niece. I promise you that."
"Ryan, please. I've done nothing to deserve this from you."
After closing the distance between them, he brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. The cold rasp of his fingertips made her think of reptile skin. "You and I could raise Miranda together, you know. If only you'd cooperate."
She yearned to shove him away. Instead, she gripped the shovel more firmly. "Perhaps I will … in time. Can't you give me that, Ryan? A little time, out of respect for Joseph?" The remainder of what she intended to say clogged in her throat. She pushed the words out, because she had to. "I loved him. I can't bring myself to be with someone else so soon."
"You know you're beautiful, don't you, Kate?"
He wasn't listening to a word she said. Beauty, the unforgivable sin, and one over which she had no control. She stared into his eyes, afraid of him as she had never been. He had slipped beyond her reach, his mind ensnared in the same twisted dementedness that had so often afflicted Joseph.
Even as frightened as she was, Kate saw the irony in that. Two brothers, both fine-looking specimens of manhood, yet so horribly flawed within.
Train up a child in the way he should go; and when he is old, he will not
depart from it.
Proverbs 22:6, if she recollected right, and so true. Both Joseph and Ryan, trained up to walk a path of self-righteous madness.
L
ike a voice from out of a nightmare, Ryan's droned on, curling around Kate like slimy tentacles. Madness. It was a word people used too lightly. She doubted most knew what real madness was. There would be no saving herself this time. She could only thank God that Miranda had escaped and that the child had a penchant for hiding. There was no need to worry that she might see or hear something she shouldn't.
"You use your beauty to your advantage, don't you, Kate?" he continued. "Bringing men to heel like dogs after a bitch."
"What men? Ryan, you're imagining things."
"I saw the look in McGovern's eyes."
Kate recoiled from the brush of his fingertips along her neck. "Please, don't touch me," she whispered.
"Regardless of what you might think, I'm not that kind. I don't—no one but Joseph—surely you can understand that—please, Ryan?"
He curled his fingers around her throat. When she fell back against the wall, be followed. "Joseph left you to me."
She closed her eyes against the insanity of that. "In time. Please give me some time."
"If anybody's got a right to put his hands on you, it's me." He dipped his thumb under the edge of her collar and gave her skin there a slow caress. "Does McGovern touch you like this?"
Kate flattened herself against the wood, scarcely able to breathe because he had left her so little space.
He moved closer and settled his other hand on her waist. "I know what you're trying to make me want." Digging in with his fingers, he whispered, "Oh, yes, I know. You want to play me like an old, out-of-tune fiddle. To laugh at me like you laugh at all the others."
Kate shook her head in mute denial.
"Oh, yes. Only you can't, can you? Not with Joseph, and now not with me. That's why you don't want to marry me. Because you know you won't be able to control me. I'm too much like my brother. I'll resist you and save you from yourself while I'm at it." He rubbed his thumb across her mouth. "And you don't want to be saved. Satan has his talons in you."
"Ryan." She gasped as his fingers dug more deeply into her waist. She knew he was trying to inflict pain. And he was succeeding. He saw it as her just punishment because she kindled desire within him, desire that he believed would condemn him to hell. Nausea rolled through her stomach and then up her throat, bitter as gall. "Stop it! I'm your brother's wife."