Diamond Spur (30 page)

She frowned. "I don't understand."

"It doesn't matter anymore." He gestured toward Kip's mane. "You missed a spot."

She had. She pulled the curry comb over it. "What will you do, if you lose the Spur?"

"Blow my brains out, probably," he said easily. "It's the only thing I ever cared about."

Yes, she thought bitterly, it probably was. God knew, he'd never cared about her. "I'm sorry if I ruined your chances in there," she said after a minute.

"You didn't. I'd already ruined them, just by showing weakness," he said. "People attack it instinctively, Kate, haven't you noticed? They smell blood. Especially businessmen. They knew I was in trouble when I invited them here."

"I thought ranchers helped each other," she said. "You always helped Dad."

"We're not talking family ranches here, honey." He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, and then leaned lazily against the stall to smoke it. "We're talking millions, not nickle and dime. The bank is two steps away from foreclosure. I've defaulted, Kate. I can't even meet the interest payment. The feedlot was a long shot, but I took it." He shrugged. "And I lost."

She put away the comb, patted Kip's neck and gave him a sugar cube, and went out, latching

the gate behind her. "What will you do?" she repeated gently.

He blew out a thin cloud of smoke. "I don't know."

She searched his hard face. "A lot of it was my fault, I guess..."

"None of it was your fault," he said curtly.

"I'm not cultured enough to be the kind of wife you need," she said from between her teeth. "I grew up poor and even if I know how to design, I don't even know how to dress...."

"Just hold it right there," he said shortly. His black eyes bit into hers. "You weren't the only one who told a few white lies. I never thought you wouldn't fit into my world." He moved restlessly, avoiding her shocked gaze. "I just didn't want you fitting into anybody else's. You'd already said you didn't want to get stuck on a ranch in Texas."

"You didn't want me," she reminded him. She flushed at the look on his face. "Well, only in bed." She lowered her gaze back to Kip's mane. "I tried to be the kind of wife you wanted, but I wasn't meant for fancy parties and high society. I do like going barefooted and wearing jeans, just like you told Gene to paint me."

' 'I told Gene to paint you in jeans because you're a country girl and I like you just that way," he replied gently, taking a draw from the cigarette. "I meant it as a compliment, not an insult. I guess with things so strained between us, though, you didn't expect compliments from me."

She forced a smile to her lips. "Thank you for telling me," she murmured.

He had to force himself not to make a grab for her, throw her against a wall and make violent love to her where she stood. It was what he wanted to do, and it might have given her a hint about his feelings. But she already seemed to think that desire was all he had to give. It was going to take a long, slow courtship this time to win her back. His eyes kindled and a faint
smile touched his hard mouth. Well, he'd managed to do that once. Why not twice? Maybe it wasn't hopeless.

"How do you feel about your career now?" he asked, and without mockery or anger.

She looked at him and shrugged. "I don't know, Jason. I like doing it. But it isn't my whole life. It's just a job that I enjoy. That's all." He pursed his lips and had to fight not to grin. He stared at the glowing tip of his cigarette. "I do make a lot of money at it," she added hesitantly. "If you need help, I don't mind contributing what I've got..."

"I'm the head of the household," he returned. "That may sound old-fashioned, but then, so am I. In my family, I make the living. I'd starve before I'd take a penny from you." "You're such a chauvinist, Jason," she sighed. His broad shoulders lifted and fell. "Is that new?" She managed a sad smile. "No. You always were." He smoked his cigarette silently. The barn was cozy against the chill of cooler weather. "Have

you started your new collection?"

The question surprised her. He sounded genuinely interested. "Why, yes. I'm building it around the Alamo," she said. "I drove up with Cherry a couple of days ago to look at it again, to get the feel of it. Mr. Rogers thinks I may be able to get a fabric designer at one of the Clayborn mills to design a fabric just for my things. Isn't that something?"

"Oh, yes," he agreed absently. "That's something." "Well, it is to me," she said quietly, turning away. "I put in a lot of hard work to get where I am, even if you do hate my work." "I don't hate it," he said. His broad shoulders rose and fell. "I resent it sometimes, and don't bother asking me why, I won't tell you," he added curtly. "Why not?" she asked, her green eyes twinkling for a change. "Are you dying of love for me and madly jealous of my work?" He actually laughed. It was the truth, and she didn't even believe it. "Wouldn't you fall in the floor if I was?"

"I'd do that, all right," she agreed, finishing up Kip's withers.

"About what happened in the house; what I said to you earlier about the baby..." he began gruffly. She put up the curry comb. "If you apologize, I will fall on the floor, of shock," she said without looking at him. "You never apologize, because you never make mistakes." His eyebrows went up and he grinned. It was the first time he'd ever been able to face that imperfection. "I'm perfect," he reminded her. "Didn't you know?"

She let her eyes wander over him with shocked delight, and he felt light-headed at the soft appreciation in them before they averted to the business of putting Kip into his stall. "Physically, I wouldn't have an argument," she murmured daringly.

He smiled wickedly. She came back out of the stall, and found herself suddenly caught and held against his broad chest, with his dark face just inches from hers.

"You're pretty devastating yourself, Mrs. Donavan," he breathed, and bent to her mouth.

He hadn't kissed her since before she lost the baby. It was new and exciting, as it had been in

the early days of their courtship. She caught her breath as his lips nibbled and teased hers, while that whipcord lean arm held her closer in the soft silence of the barn. "Kiss me back, Katy," he teased, nuzzling her mouth. "I dare you. Open your mouth, the way I like it, and kiss me blind...!"

She didn't want to. She didn't mean to. But when she turned her head, his mouth was there, hard and warm and smoky and expertly demanding. She caught her breath and it went into his mouth, sighing out helplessly. He turned her and backed her up against the wall, his lips hard against her, his broad chest shaking with the force of his heartbeat, his body causing an instant answering desire in hers.

She put her hands on his chest to push him away, and he chuckled deeply, nibbling her lips while he jerked open the shirt buttons and pulled one of her hands inside, to tangle it in the thick hair over the warm, hard muscles.

"Go ahead," he invited in a husky whisper. "Touch me.

"I don't want..." she began.

"Don't fight me," he whispered. "I'm not going to seduce you or force you into a relationship you aren't ready for. Touch me. I won't lose my head again, I promise." Tears stung her eyes. "I didn't blame you for that, Jason," she whispered softly. "I shouldn't have said what I did...." He lifted his head, just enough to see her eyes. "I didn't like having you see me that way. I felt helpless."

"I know," she said gently. "And you don't like losing control."

He lifted an eyebrow ruefully. "You know too much about me."

"That's right." She moved her hand experimentally on his chest, liking the way he moved sinuously under her light touch. "Watch your step, cowboy, or I'll tell on you."

He chuckled softly. He hadn't laughed in a long time. She hadn't, either. He liked the way she lit up when she laughed. "Who will you tell? I can't think of anybody else who'd care." He drew his nose softly against hers. "Your legs are trembling," he whispered.

"Don't get conceited. Yours are, too," she whispered back.

He knew they were. His dark eyes searched hers gently. His hips moved once, slowly, and his gaze went to her mouth, watching it part. She still wanted him. If he took his time, and didn't rush her, there might be a small chance that he could make her love him again.

"I want you," he whispered. "But I'm not going to do a thing about it. See how that ties in with your theory that I only made love to you out of desire." And with that he levered away from her, his whole look frankly amused and a little predatory as she stared blankly at him, her body shocked by his sudden withdrawal.

"I don't understand," she said unsteadily. The whole tone of their relationship had changed pitch since she'd told him the truth about the baby. She couldn't understand the sudden change. She didn't quite trust it, either.

"I know that. But you'll figure it out one day." He finished his cigarette and ground it out under his heel. "Let's go inside. And one more thing, honey, no more midnight conversations with Gabe in the barn," he added, and this time there was venom in the stiff wording.

She looked at him, shocked. "Well, I didn't plan it," she said hesitantly. "He'd had a fight with his girl."

"He doesn't have to cry on your shoulder."

"I'll tell him that, if it happens again." She glanced at his hard face. "I wouldn't have let him do anything, you know."

He nodded. "I know that." He searched her eyes quietly. "Gabe will never know that we got married because he was going to take you to a square dance," he remarked, watching her go beet red. "Remember, Kate? I dared you to go with him and you tried to slap me again, and I pushed you against the door and went crazy the second I kissed you. My God, I don't even remember how we got on the sofa, I was so far gone."

Remembering that day always embarrassed her, and it was too fresh a memory to talk about. She moved away from him, clearing her throat.

"I'd better go back in and face the music, I guess," she sighed, leading the way out of the barn while she tried not to hear his amused soft laughter behind her. She glanced at him. "I'll never make a socialite, you know. But I guess I can try again."

"We'll lay off inviting businessmen over, for the time being," he said as they reached the porch. "You'll have enough to do, with those new designs."

She was touched by this odd and unexpected concern for her feelings. She turned at the bottom step and looked up into his dark, impassive face. "Jason, it's important, isn't it? These business dinners, I mean."

He studied her face. "I don't know, Kate," he replied honestly. "If I can get some backing, with what I learned in Australia about breeding new strains of Indian cattle with my own, I might pull us out of the fire. It will take time, and I need a feedlot to start out, but it's an investment that may pay off big. I just need a little leeway, A backer might make the difference."

"And if you had a decent hostess," she said miserable, "you'd have a better chance. I've let you
down badly. You never should have married me. I know you never would have, if I hadn't gotten pregnant."

"Don't bet on it," he said, and looked down at her with darkening eyes just as the front door opened and Gene came out.

"Oh, there you are," he said, smiling when he noticed that Jason had apparently been reaching for Kate when he opened the door. "Our guests are getting ready to leave." He grinned from ear to ear as Kate and Jason came through the doorway. "I just sold a portrait to the crying lady."

Jason blinked. "What?" "She's still crying, by the way, Kate," he told her. "She's really sorry that she hurt your feelings." "My sensitive feelings will be the death of us all if I don't get them under control," Kate remarked ruefully.

"You've been through a lot," Gene said gently. "Nobody's mad at you, least of all family, isn't that right, Jay?" when he noticed that Kate's mouth was swollen and so was Jason's, and they both looked flustered.

"The only person I'm mad at is you," Jason shot back. "Get in there and sell cattle, not portraits."

"Spoilsport," Gene muttered. "What in hell do I know about the cattle business?"

"And that's the whole problem." Jason was on his favorite subject now, just warming up. "You never have taken an interest in it." "Why should I?" Gene demanded. "You're the one with the ranch know-how, not me. I never wanted any part of running it, but you're determined to try and force me into a mold I don't fit!"

"You could fit if you wanted to."

"Then why don't you paint?" Gene replied. "Why don't you become an artist, just because I want you to?"

Jason glared at him and he glared back. "Excuse me," Kate murmured, escaping while she could. She darted down the hall, past the open living room door, and had almost made it to the staircase when the weeping, woman came after her.

"I'm so sorry," the matron apologized. She was at least fifty pounds overweight, white haired and blue eyed, and her whole face was red. "Honest to God, Mrs. Donavan, I didn't mean to embarrass you."

Kate turned around, her eyes as kind as her smile. "I've just lost my baby," she said softly. "I'm hurting, a lot. I wouldn't have taken offense ordinarily," she added, tossing off the white lie with panache.

"I lost my first one, too, honey," the older lady replied, "but then I had three in a row." She smiled. "You'll have other children."