Hawk's Way Grooms (30 page)

But one of the lessons the past two precarious years had taught her was to reach out for happiness. Loving Colt made her happy. Making love with Colt would bring her joy. After that…Life was uncertain. No one got any guarantees.

Jenny turned to Colt and let him see the need she felt, the yearning to be held and loved. “How soon do you think we can leave without our absence being noticed?”

Colt's eyes lit with a fire that warmed her insides. “My father wants to say a few words and make a toast. After that, I think we could slip away.”

“Why don't you see if he wants to do that now?” Jenny said.

“Come with me,” he said. “We'll ask.”

Colt's parents were surprised that he wanted them to make their speeches so early in the evening, but they were more than willing to accommodate their youngest child.

“May I have your attention, please,” Zach said, arranging Jenny and Colt between himself and Colt's mother Rebecca. “Before we carve up that beef, I'd like to say a few words to my son and future daughter-in-law.”

The noise died down, but it didn't get completely quiet. Babies still cried and children still played. But the adults gathered around them, drinks in hand, ready to offer toasts to their future happiness.

“First I want to thank Jenny for loving my son. And my son for being smart enough to settle down and marry her.”

There was general laughter, shouts of “Here! Here!” and clinking beer glasses.

“I want to tell my son how proud I am of him. How much we feel blessed for having been given the chance to make him a part of our family. I only hope he and Jenny find as much joy in raising their Whitelaw Brats, as we did in raising ours.”

There was more laughter, more clinking glasses.

Jenny felt her face turn to stone. She was afraid to look at Colt, afraid to look at anyone. She prayed that Colt would let the statement pass, that he wouldn't feel the need to tell his parents, “My future wife doesn't want children.”

From the corner of her eye, Jenny saw that Colt's face was frozen in a smile. A muscle in his jaw jerked, and she realized his teeth must be clenched.

Then it was Rebecca's turn to speak. Colt's mother put her arm around Jenny and said, “We know you and Colt could live on love alone, but we've decided a little bread wouldn't hurt. We hope you'll let us pay off the mortgage on the Double D as a wedding present.”

There was a gasp and then applause.

Jenny's heart was stuck in her throat. There was no way she could speak. She could barely breathe, she was so overwhelmed with joy and with pain. This good family had raised a wonderful son, and all she had offered him—all of them—was deceit.

“I'm sorry,” she blurted. “I can't accept your gift. Because I can't marry your son.”

 

C
OLT DIDN'T KNOW WHEN HE'D BEEN
so angry with anyone in his life. “Don't you dare run away from me,” he snarled, grabbing Jenny's arm as she reached for the door to the Jeep. “What the hell's going on, Jenny?”

She was panting, and her eyes look frightened. “You heard me. I can't marry you.”

“What is it you're so scared of?” he demanded.

She looked like a deer caught in a set of headlights. “This—the two of us—would never work.”

Colt realized they'd acquired an audience. Not surprising, considering the bombshell Jenny had dropped. He was still reeling himself. “Get in,” he said. “We're going home.”

“You are home, Colt.”

“Get in the damned car, Jenny.” When she didn't move, he swept her up in his arms, carried her around the hood of the Jeep and deposited her in the passenger's seat. “Don't get any smart ideas,” he warned.

He half expected her to leap out of the Jeep and run. She was good at running from trouble, his Jenny. But the running was going to stop. Here. Tonight.

Colt started the engine and spun the wheels, kicking up dirt and stones as he backed out of the driveway. “Buckle up,” he said. “It's liable to be a bumpy ride.”

He didn't say another word until he cut the Jeep's engine at Jenny's back door. “Come inside. We're going to talk.”

“I have nothing more to say,” Jenny said as she shoved open her door and hurried up the back steps. “Go home, Colt. Leave me alone. I don't want to see you again.”

“That isn't going to cut it, Jenny. I told you I wasn't going to leave you. And I meant it.”

Jenny reached the porch first and whirled on him. “What if I don't love you?”

Colt froze with his boot on the bottom step. “What?”

Jenny turned her back on him and thrust both hands through her hair. “I lied when I said I loved you.”

“I don't believe you,” Colt said, his voice soft but furious. “Turn around and look at me. Say it to my face, goddamn you!”

Jenny dropped her hands to her sides. She turned slowly until she was facing him. Her eyes brimmed with tears, and her mouth was curled down at the corners. “I thought I could go through with this. To save the ranch. But I can't.”

Colt hissed in a breath. It sounded like the truth. “Oh, God, Jenny.”

“Go home, Colt.”

“I can't,” he said, the words torn from his throat. “You're home for me, Jenny. I still want you. I still need you.”

“I won't marry you, Colt. That would be a living hell for both of us.”

“You made a promise to me earlier this evening. I expect you to keep it,” he said implacably.

He saw her confusion, the moment when she realized what he meant. Her nostrils flared, and her lips thinned. “It wouldn't be lovemaking, Colt. It would be sex.”

“Sex is fine with me,” he said, moving up the steps toward her.

Jenny took a step back. “Don't come any closer.”

“I intend to get a hell of a lot closer before the night is over,” he said, backing her up against the frame of the house. He shoved his knee between her legs and pinned her body against the wall with his hips. His hands thrust into her hair, angling her head back at a painful angle. “You're mine, Jenny. You've always been mine. You just didn't know it.”

“Colt, I—”

His mouth covered hers, angry and afraid, searching for answers that always seemed a step beyond his reach. A spark of electricity leaped between them, shocking his senses. His body hungered as much as his soul, and he felt a sense of desperation that was impossible to deny. There was nothing gentle about his kisses. He forced her lips open for his intrusion, biting them, sucking on them, demanding a response.

Her body betrayed her. And he knew he had her soul.

He lifted his head and stared down into her panicked eyes. “You lied, Jenny. I don't know why. But before we're through, I'm going to find out the truth.”

“You can't handle the truth,” she cried. “Why do you think I've been lying!”

“We can discuss this later,” he said as he thrust his hips against hers. “After we've made love.”

“Colt, you can't—”

“Watch me.” He picked her up and carried her into the house.

Colt snapped on the tiny lamp that sat on Jenny's chest of drawers, then threw her onto the four-poster. He began stripping himself while she watched in stunned disbelief. He took off his shirt, then yanked off his boots and socks. He pulled down jeans and Jockey shorts together and stood before her completely naked.

He heard her gasp, saw her eyes go wide.

“That's something else Huck and I
didn't
have in common,” he said. “Move over, Jenny. Make some room for me.”

She scuttled across the bed and landed on the floor in the shadows on the opposite side. He stalked around the foot of the bed and dragged her to her feet. “Need a little help getting undressed?”

Before she could protest, he had her zipper down and the black sheath stripped off her shoulders. His arms imprisoned her as he unsnapped the black merry widow. He felt her tense as he pulled it free and threw it onto the floor. Her eyes slid closed as he looked at her naked breasts for the first time. He leaned over and kissed the tips, one at a time, and heard her harsh, indrawn breath.

Then he slipped one nipple into his mouth and suckled.

She cried out and her hands reached for him, grabbing handfuls of his hair to hold him where he was. “Oh, Colt. It feels…it feels…”

She didn't finish the sentence. But she didn't have to. He could see the ecstacy on her face.

He shoved the sheath the rest of the way down, only to discover she was wearing a garter belt and black nylons. “This is the kind of gift a woman plans for her lover, Jenny.”

She didn't deny it.

“I thank you,” he said as he looked his fill.

He took off her black silk panties but left the nylons and garter belt, since they weren't in his way. He pulled her close, reveling in the feel of the soft fabric and her even softer flesh against his own. He kissed her eyes, her nose, her cheeks, her lips. He caressed her arms, her back, her stomach. Any part of her he could find. But he came back often to her breasts, because she seemed to have so much sensation there.

To his surprise and pleasure, she touched him in return. Her hands marveling, seeking, scratching, squeezing, making his body pulse and tighten and yearn.

It had been too long since he'd had a woman. He was afraid if she kept touching him, he would spill himself too soon. So he laid her on the bed and caught her hands and pinned them against the pillows and made himself go slow.

“Colt, I can't wait,” she begged.

“Another kiss here,” he said, his lips against her belly. “And here,” he said, moving his mouth lower.

Her body writhed beneath his caresses and then became taut. “Please,” she gasped.

He took his time. And he brought her joy.

She was like no other woman he had ever known. Softer. Sleeker. More responsive.

He kept his weight on his arms as he spread her legs with his knees and positioned himself between her thighs. “I'll be as gentle as I can, Jenny. Let me know if I hurt you.”

He was so big. And she was so small. Suddenly he was afraid. He looked into her eyes and saw that she was not.

Then she reached for him, pulling him toward her, and he pushed slowly into the warmth and wetness of her. She angled her hips, gasping as he sank to the hilt.

“You fit,” she said, surprise evident in her voice.

He couldn't help smiling. “Did you think I wouldn't?”

“I wondered,” she said, her hands brushing the hair from his forehead. “But I'm glad you do.”

“Me, too,” he said with a smile.

He took his time, moving slowly, kissing her face and her throat, his hands moving over her, feeling, touching her perfect body—except for one spot on her breast. He felt her stiffen as his fingers traced the blemish. A dimple in her flesh. And some kind of scar.

His body didn't allow him time to consider what he'd found. It demanded culmination. He lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist and drove them both toward satisfaction. He waited for her. And it wasn't easy. But he was many times rewarded, because her climax came so close in time with his own, that both of them were lifted higher. He threw his head back and gritted his teeth against the almost unbearable pleasure, as he spilled his seed in her womb.

Afterward, he pulled her close, kissing her again.

“I love you, Jenny. I love you,” he said between panting breaths.

“And I love you, Colt,” she admitted in a quiet voice.

He didn't have the strength to ask all the questions that were tumbling around in his head. So long as she loved him, they could work everything out. He still had no idea what had made her so frightened. But he felt certain that whatever it was, they could handle it together.

As he held her close, his fingertips grazed the blemish on the side of her breast, almost beneath her arm. He lifted his head to look, but he could barely make out the dimpled flaw in the shadowy light. “What is that?” he asked.

“A scar,” she said.

“I didn't know you were hurt. How did it happen?”

“I wasn't hurt. I have cancer. Had cancer. May still have cancer,” she said breathlessly.

Colt sat up and stared down at her. He swallowed hard. Sweat beaded on his brow. His body began to tremble. He bolted from the bed and ran for the bathroom, his hand over his mouth. He barely made it in time.

I
T TOOK
C
OLT A MOMENT TO REALIZE
where he was when he woke up. Not in Sam's bedroom at the Double D, but in his own at Hawk's Pride. He felt the sweat break out on his forehead at the mere thought of
Jenny
and
cancer
together in the same sentence.

Oh, God. What had he done?

Memory returned like a hideous nightmare, and he saw himself, eyes wide with horror, stomach churning, and then his ungainly race for the bathroom. He recalled the foul taste of vomit, and the hot wash of shame.

Colt groaned in agony and pressed the heels of his hands against his grainy eyelids.

He'd failed her. She'd shared her trouble with him, trusted him, given him a chance to prove his love. And he'd failed her…and himself.

Oh, God. Why cancer? Of all the maladies in the world, why give my Jenny cancer?

Then he remembered more. Jenny had come into the bathroom, dampened a cloth and gently wiped the sweat from his brow and the spittle from his mouth. He'd kept his eyes closed, afraid of what he'd see in her eyes if he looked at her. Then her touch was gone.

“Go home, Colt,” she'd said in a flat voice. “Go home.”

When he'd come out of the bathroom, he'd found his clothes laid out on the bed and Jenny nowhere in sight. He'd had an urgent need to see her. To make excuses for himself. To explain what had happened.

But he didn't need to explain. Jenny understood his irrational fear of illness better than anyone.

Sick people sometimes die.

No. Not my Jenny. Not so young. Not when she's barely had a chance to live!

Colt struggled to remember her exact words.
I have cancer. I had cancer. May still have cancer.

The terror of what she'd said had kept him from asking for more information. He speculated with what little knowledge he had.

The dimpled scar meant she'd had some sort of surgery. A lump removed? And then what? Radiation? Chemotherapy? How had that been possible without anyone noticing the effects of such treatment? The vomiting. The hair loss.

Of course. It had been easy to conceal her illness when she was so very much alone. She'd only have to hide it from him and from Huck for a few days at most while they were home on leave. For the past two years she'd been alone on the Double D except for Randy, who was probably in on the secret. It was likely Randy knew everything and had been sworn to silence. He had to talk with Randy. Randy would be able to tell him the details he hadn't gotten from Jenny.

Colt leaped out of bed and dragged on some clothes. He shoved his feet into a pair of boots, grabbed his battered Stetson and left the house as quietly as he'd returned late the previous evening.

As he approached the Double D ranch house, Colt felt the bile rise in his throat. He swallowed it down. His skin felt clammy as he quietly shut the door of his Mustang and moved up onto the back porch. The back door was unlocked. Even in these dangerous days, Westerners left their doors open as a gesture of range hospitality. Strangers were welcome.

A man who betrayed his woman's faith and her trust likely was not. So he entered as silently as he could and made his way down the hall to Randy's bedroom. Colt knocked once, then opened the door and stepped inside, closing it behind him.

Randy was still sound asleep, the covers thrown off, so Colt could see the boy wore only a pair of cotton pajama bottoms. Colt sat on the edge of the bed, gave Randy's shoulder a shove and whispered, “Wake up.”

Randy rolled over, scraping at the sand in his eyes and yawning. “Oh. Hi, Colt.” He shoved himself upright and scratched at his belly. “Sorry I was so late getting in last night. I saw Jenny's door was closed and your bed was empty and I figured…Well, I didn't want to bother the two of you, so I just—”

“This visit isn't about how late you came in last night,” Colt interrupted. “It's about—” His throat constricted, making speech difficult, but he forced the words out. “About Jenny's cancer.”

Colt saw the flicker of pain on Randy's face before it was replaced by guilt. “She finally told you, huh?”

“Yeah,” Colt said, releasing a gust of air.

Randy looked anxiously over Colt's shoulder toward the door. “Is she coming here to tell me about it?”

Colt was confused. “You mean she hasn't said anything to you before now?”

Randy swallowed hard and shook his head. “I—” His voice broke, and he cleared his throat. “I figured it out for myself. There were days she'd be sick. And she lost weight. And once I heard her crying. Then I found a bill from the doctor, and I knew.”

“You never confronted her and asked for the truth?” Colt asked, incredulous.

Randy shook his head. “If she'd wanted me to know, she'd have told me.”

“Did you at least share what you knew with your brothers?”

Randy's chin dropped to his chest, and he shook his head.

“It never occurred to you to write to Huck. Or to me? To tell someone who could give her some help?” Colt said, his rage as palpable as his voice was quiet.

Colt saw a tear drop onto the sheet.

“I was scared,” Randy said in a voice hoarse with tears he was trying not to shed. “I kept hoping it would go away. Jenny's always been so strong. I figured if she really needed help, she'd ask for it. But she never did.”

Colt pulled the tearful boy into his arms, and felt Randy's arms close tightly around him. How awful it must have been for him to know. How terrified he must have been of losing his sister. Colt offered comfort and received it in return. In a little while he asked, “When did you first notice Jenny was ill?”

“Two years ago,” Randy answered.

Two years,
Colt thought. And she hadn't yet succumbed to the disease. But she looked so frail. And she'd lost weight even since he'd come home. Didn't she have to see the doctor sometime?

Then he remembered the day she'd spent in town, the day she hadn't invited him along.
She must have seen a doctor then.
Maybe he could find out who it was and ask—No. A doctor wouldn't tell him Jenny's secrets. And he shouldn't be asking. If he wanted to know anything, he should get it from her.

He patted Randy's back and said, “Don't worry, boy. I know now, and I'm going to take care of her.”

Randy sat back and scrubbed at his eyes with his hands. “You don't know what a relief it is to hear you say that.”

Colt tousled Randy's hair. “Go back to sleep.” He rose and headed down the hall toward Jenny's room, stiffening his buckling knees and determinedly swallowing down the nausea that rose as he approached her door. He felt the sweat bead on his forehead and fought back a wave of dizziness as he reached out to knock on her door.

“Jenny, it's Colt. Let me in.”

There was no response. He wouldn't have blamed her if she never wanted to see him again. But he wasn't going to leave this time—or ever again. Even if he spent the rest of his life hanging over the toilet bowl every morning, he was here to stay.

He knocked again. “At least say something,” he said. “Let me know you're all right.”

Silence.

“I'm coming in,” Colt said. “We need to talk.” He turned the doorknob, but it was locked.

He laid his cheek against the smooth wood. She'd locked him out, and herself inside. “Please, Jenny. Give me another chance.”

He waited, his ear pressed against the door, for any sign that she might relent. And then he heard her reply.

“Good-bye, Colt.”

 

H
E'S GONE
.

Jenny stared, dry-eyed, at a water mark in the ceiling where the rain had leaked before Colt fixed the roof. There was no repairing such a stain. It could be painted over, but in her experience, it had a way of seeping back through. It was better just to tear down the ruined part and get rid of it.

Better to send Colt away, than to let him try to make amends. She would never—could never—forget his reaction last night. Or forgive it. It was hard enough facing her illness, without seeing her own terror reflected back in his eyes.

What did you expect?
a voice asked.
That he would be miraculously cured? That his abhorrence of illness would magically disappear because you were the one who was sick? Did you think he'd pull you into his arms and tell you everything would be all right, that he was there for you, always and forever, “in sickness and in health”?

Foolish woman. Did your father stay to help your mother? Whom have you ever been able to rely on besides yourself?

Jenny felt cold and empty inside, as though a block of ice had frozen around her, insulating her from the world, from its pain and its joys. She wanted to spend the day in bed with the covers pulled up over her head. But there were animals to be fed, chores to be done and a life—however brief—to be lived.

She left the bed and walked across the room to stare at her naked body in the mirror. The slight defect in her breast didn't even show from the front. She had to turn sideways and lift her arm to see it. There was only a slight indentation in her skin and a thin scar where the cancerous tissue had been removed.

She turned away and headed for the shower. She made the spray as hot as she could stand it and stood there as long as she dared, wishing the warmth would seep into her bones and melt the ice that held her feelings frozen inside. If only she could cry, she might feel better. But all she could muster was an awful sense of desolation.

She dressed in the most comfortable jeans she owned and her favorite shirt. She made herself smile into the mirror as she dried her hair, hoping that would make her feel better. Her grin had the look of a corpse in rictus.

That did make her smile. The curl of her lips was fleeting, a single instant of relief from the oppressive sorrow she felt. But it gave her hope that she could survive this second, even more devastating loss of a loved one.

She smelled coffee as she headed toward the kitchen. She was grateful there would be something hot and strong to drink, but she wasn't looking forward to seeing Randy. The two of them were going to have some hard times together—considering it was no longer possible to save the Double D.

She stopped dead on the threshold to the kitchen. Colt stood with his back to the sink, his hips resting against the counter, his hands gripping it on either side.

“What are you doing here?” she said cuttingly.

“I thought you might need some coffee,” Colt replied.

She watched him swallowing furiously. Any second, he was going to have to bolt for the bathroom.

“Oh, for heaven's sake! Eat a cracker,” she snapped.

“Will that help?” he said, his face tinged with green.

“It works for pregnant women with nausea. It ought to work for you.” She crossed to the cabinet and pulled out a box of soda crackers, ripped open the bag and stuck a cracker in front of his mouth. “Open up.” He opened his mouth, and she stuck it inside.

He bit off a bite, chewed carefully and swallowed. He took another small bite, and another, until the cracker was gone. “Thank you,” he said at last.

His color still wasn't too good, and sweat dotted his forehead, but at least he didn't look in imminent danger of puking. “Sit down,” she ordered. “Have you tried drinking any of that coffee you made?”

“Not yet,” he admitted.

“Something carbonated might be better for your stomach.” She crossed to the ancient refrigerator, pulled out a can of ginger ale and popped the top. “Drink this.”

He looked wary. “My stomach—”

“Drink it,” she ordered, shoving the can into his hand.

He took a sip, then looked down at her. “Satisfied?”

“I'll be satisfied when you're gone from this house.”

“I'm not leaving,” he said.

“I make you sick, Colt. Physically ill. You look worse than a calf with the slobbers.”

He grimaced. “That bad? Then you shouldn't be shoving me out the door. Sick as you make me out to be, I'm likely to ruin the upholstery in my Mustang. Now
that
would make me truly ill.”

Jenny felt a rising hope shoving its way upward from inside, trying to get out. But there was no way it could get past the ice that was frozen around her heart.

“Why are you here, Colt?”

“I need some answers, Jenny. I want to know about your cancer.”

She was shocked to hear him say the word aloud. She watched to see if he was going to be sick, saw him swallow hard and reach for another saltine.

He's trying, Jenny. Give him a chance.