In His Brother's Place (13 page)

“Good night, my big boy.” Angie blinked back tears as she tucked the quilt around him. “I’ll let Rudy in for you.”

The pup was waiting by the outside door. When Angie let him in, he trotted to his usual place on the rug and lay down. Needing a quiet moment, she closed the door behind her and stepped out onto the balcony.

The air was chilly through her thin sweater but the twilight stillness was welcome. She leaned on the wrought-iron railing, watching shadows darken in the patio below. Beyond the walls, snow-covered mountains glowed crimson in the last rays of sunset, invoking the name the Spanish padres had given them—
Sangre de Cristo,
Blood of Christ.

Angie closed her eyes and filled her lungs with the cool freshness. Her ears caught the twitter of sparrows and the distant, mournful wail of a coyote.

As her emotions welled, a single tear trickled down her cheek. She had tried not to love this place, but she’d failed. She loved it, just as Lucas did. And she loved the troubled man who called it home.

Not that loving Jordan made things any easier. If she weren’t in love with him, she might be able to endure a sham marriage for Lucas’s sake. But love would open her to a world of hurt. Could she bear it day after day, knowing Jordan had married her only out of duty?

But how could she let her own feelings matter when Lucas’s happiness was at stake? He wanted to grow up here on the ranch, with Jordan as his father. And it was within her power to make it happen. How could she deny her beloved child what he’d prayed for?

Angie heard the scrape of a boot on the tiles. Before she could turn around, a soft blanket wrapped her from behind. “It’s cold out here,” Jordan said. “I don’t want you catching a chill.”

Angie snuggled into the woolen warmth. It was like Jordan to make sure she was all right. He was the kind of man who took care of everyone and everything around him.

“If you’re upset, I can’t blame you,” he said. “I dumped a heavy load on you out there today.”

He was waiting. She took a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking, Jordan. Lucas loves it here and he’s become attached to you. He’d be devastated if we had to leave.”

“Are you reconsidering my proposal?” His attempt at lightness was betrayed by a catch in his voice.

“Not yet. But I’m curious about the kind of marriage you’d have in mind.”

“Are you asking if I’d expect you to share my bed? Damned right I would. And no more sneaking off in the night. I’d want to see you there in the morning. Every morning.”

“I see.” Heat stirred, rising into in Angie’s face.

“Another thing.” He moved behind her, wrapping his arms around the blanket, drawing her close. “I take marriage vows seriously. You could count on me to be faithful. And to cherish and protect you and Lucas, for as long as I live.”

His words made her melt a little, in spite of herself. When was the last time anyone had wanted to cherish and protect her? She forced herself to stay strong. “And if we couldn’t make it work? What then?” All she wanted was to turn around and lose herself in his arms, but she had to keep her head.

“Then you’d be free to go. But I’d want to keep some connection with Lucas, maybe even partial custody.”

“It all sounds so cold, so practical.”

“We’re practical people, Angie. And we both want the best for your boy. That’s why I think we could make a good thing of this.”

“What about your mother? If you married me, would she cut you out of the trust?”

He shook his head. “Right now I’m the only heir. And without my support, the ranch would have to be sold off. She’d never let that happen. As for her feelings about you, my mother’s practical, too. She’d come around eventually, if only for her grandson’s sake.”

Angie closed her eyes, leaning back into his supporting warmth.
Practical—that’s the word for it, Jordan,
she thought.
You’ve got this all figured out. But the bottom line is you don’t love me. How am I supposed to live with that for the rest of my life?

Jordan’s arms tightened before he let her go. “There’s time,” he said. “Think about it. You’ve heard my conditions. I won’t expect an answer till you’re sure.”

Would she ever be sure? Angie turned toward him, her eyes tracing the shadows that shaped his face. He was so like Justin, yet not like him at all.

And what about Justin’s plane crash? Did Jordan ever plan to tell her how it had happened? Could she give him her answer without knowing?

She could sense the hunger in his gaze and feel the response stirring in her own body. She wanted him. But she couldn’t go to him in turmoil. She needed time alone to clear her head and think things out. Hesitating, she took a step backward.

“I understand, Angie.” He spoke as if he’d read her thoughts. “Tonight would just muddy the water. Let’s give it a break for now. All right?”

She gazed up at him, aching to be held, kissed and reassured but knowing it would only make things harder. “Yes,” she said. “That’s a sensible idea. Good night, Jordan.”

Thrusting the blanket at him, she turned away and hurried back inside. She had work to do, enough to occupy her mind until bedtime.

But even then, she’d be lucky to get much sleep.

Thirteen

A
ngie tossed and turned most of the night,
replaying Jordan’s proposal in her mind.
We’re practical
people.
That was how he’d described them both. But he was wrong. She
wasn’t practical at all. Jordan had offered her a life of privilege and material
comforts. What he hadn’t offered her were the things she truly wanted—honesty,
openness and love.

Bless Uncle Jordan that he’ll want to be
my daddy. Bless us that we can live here forever.

Lucas’s childish prayer had been so simple, so heartfelt. A
word from her could give him what he wanted. He’d have two parents, a permanent
home, everything Justin Cooper’s son deserved. How could she deny him that for
the sake of her own selfish needs? Wasn’t this what Justin would want for
Lucas?

The man was too drunk to walk a straight
line, let alone fly a plane.

Victor’s shattering news had tarnished her memory of Justin.
But nothing could change the certainty that he’d loved her. She had no such
certainty with Jordan. She didn’t know how he felt about her, and she certainly
didn’t know why he’d kept the truth about Justin’s death from her.

How could she trust a man who closed himself off and kept
secrets from her? How could she spend her life with such a man?

She yearned for sleep. But when she closed her eyes it was
Justin’s face she saw, merging subtly into Jordan’s, then back again. Gradually
their features merged, becoming one and the same, blurring, fading into darkness
until, at last, she slept.

When the dream came it was so vivid it could have been real.
She was with Justin in his plane, her body strapped to the passenger seat. The
moonlit night was calm and clear. But something wasn’t right. The plane was
rocking crazily, dipping and yawing as if battered by gale force winds. Rigid
with fear, she gripped the armrests.

“Justin!” she shouted at the pilot. “What’s wrong?”

He flashed her a devilish grin. “Just havin’ a little fun,
babe. You ain’t seen nuthin’ yet!”

Banking the plane sharply, he executed a heart-dropping barrel
roll. Angie screamed as she found herself upside down. She’d never enjoyed wild
carnival rides, and this was ten times worse because it was so dangerous. Her
stomach lurched as they came upright again. The air in the cockpit smelled of
whiskey. “Please, Justin,” she begged. “I’m getting sick. Let’s just land and go
home.”

His laugh had a manic quality. “So, are you going to tell me
what you did with my brother? Was it as good as with me? Maybe better?”

“You don’t know what you’re...” Her words ended in a cry as
Justin pulled back hard on the stick, sending the plane into a dizzying
climb.

She knew what was going to happen next. She’d watched from the
ground, heart in her throat, as Justin did loops in his plane, climbing almost
out of sight, then somersaulting backward into a long, flashing dive. Just when
she feared he was about to crash into the ground he’d pull out and shoot upward
again. It was terrifying enough to watch, and now she was in the plane.

“Don’t do this, Justin,” she pleaded as the plane roared
skyward. “I’m going to have a baby!
Our
baby!”

He shot her a glance of sudden clarity, but it was too late to
pull out of the loop. Angie screamed as the plane arced backward and streaked
into its dive. She could see the ground rushing up at them. “Pull out, Justin!”
she shouted. “Pull out now!”

At the last second he pulled back on the stick. Miraculously,
the plane leveled off and began to climb again. Angie breathed a silent prayer.
Justin knew about the baby. He’d be careful now. They were going to be all
right.

Suddenly the mountain loomed ahead of them, huge and black,
blocking out the stars. She had no time to cry out before the world exploded,
ending everything.

* * *

Angie woke drenched in sweat. For a few moments she lay
still, her heart hammering. She’d had a nightmare; that was all. She was alive,
her son safe in the next room. Justin had died alone, nearly four years ago.

But the dream had changed something. As Angie stared up into
the darkness she realized she’d waited long enough. She needed to know the truth
behind Justin’s accident—now. And the only person who could tell her was asleep
downstairs.

Swinging her feet to the floor she reached for her robe. Jordan
might refuse to answer her questions. But Angie had made up her mind. She’d give
him no rest until she’d heard the entire story—all of it.

Stepping into Lucas’s room, she gazed down at her sleeping son.
Someday he’d want to know how his father had died. What she was about to do was
for him and for herself.

* * *

Jordan groaned and opened his eyes. Angie’s pale face,
framed by tousled waves of black hair, swam into focus above him. “What is it?”
he muttered. “Is Lucas all right?”

“Lucas is fine. But we need to talk.”

“Lord, it’s—” He switched on the bedside lamp and glanced at
the clock. “It’s almost 3:30 in the morning, woman. Can’t we wait for a more
civilized hour?”

She shook her head. “I’ve already waited too long. This
conversation needs to happen now.”

Sobered by her tone, Jordan sat up and raked a hand through his
hair. “I can make coffee.”

“Don’t bother.” She sat on the foot of the bed, tucking her
bare feet beneath her robe. The faint light cast her dark eyes into pools of
shadow. “I just had a dream—an awful dream about Justin’s plane crash. You were
in Park City when he died. I want to know what happened. Everything. Now.”

A knot had formed in the pit of Jordan’s stomach. “It’s been
almost four years. Why bring it up now? What’s this about, Angie?”

“It’s about us. About trust.” She fingered a fold in the quilt.
“My cousin checked the accident report for me. I know Justin was drunk when he
crashed. What else did you hide from me, Jordan?”

The knot twisted and tightened. “Does it matter? You and my
parents were in enough pain. I wanted to spare you more.”

“Did you ever plan to tell me?”

“No.”

“It’s that bad?”

“It’s past history. None of us can change it. Forget it and go
back to bed.”

“It’s too late for that,” she said. “I’m not leaving this room
until you tell me everything.”

So it had come to this—the moment he’d hoped would never
happen. Jordan began the story, knowing Angie deserved the truth—and knowing
that once she’d heard it she would walk away from him and never look back.

* * *

“The ski trip was a bad idea from the beginning,” he
said. “When we weren’t on the slopes all we did was argue.”

“About me.”

He exhaled wearily. “Justin was reckless and impulsive. I
honestly felt it was my duty to protect him from making a bad decision.”

“Of course.” Angie glanced down at her clasped hands. Jordan
had never made a secret of his disapproval. She’d have expected nothing less of
him.

“We’d planned to fly back the morning of your birthday. The
night before, in the room, I pushed him too far and we got into the nastiest
fight of our lives. He swore at me, called me a meddling bastard. He shouted
that you were the only one who really loved him, and the rest of the family
could rot in hell for all he cared.”

Jordan paused to clear his throat. “It was too much. I lost
control. And I did something I’ll regret to the end of my days.”

Jordan’s anguish hung like a black curtain between them. Angie
could feel it in the ragged breath he drew before he continued.

“That New Year’s Eve when I drove you home in my car— I told
him about it, Angie. I told him...everything.”

Angie stared at him in horror. The words spilled from her lips.
“How...could...you?”

“How many times do you think I’ve asked myself that question?”
His voice was a growl. “At the time I rationalized that it was for his own good,
that I was helping him by trying to split the two of you up. But looking back, I
can’t help wondering if—” He bit back the rest of the words, shaking his
head.

“If what? Tell me.”

“I can’t help wondering if I did it because I wanted you for
myself.”

“Jordan—”

“Don’t say a word. I’m the king of hypocrites, and I know it.
Now, do you want to hear the rest of the story, or don’t you?”

“I don’t want to,” Angie whispered. “But I need to. Go on.”

Again, he cleared his throat. When he spoke, the words sounded
flat, like a confession extracted by torture. “Justin reacted by slugging me so
hard it knocked me down. By the time I got to my feet he was out the door. I
figured he’d gone to blow off some steam, so I didn’t go after him. If I had, I
wouldn’t be telling this story.” Jordan raked his hair with agitated fingers.
“The hotel bartender said he’d called Justin a cab, and that he’d left drunk,
saying he was going to have it out with some woman. Nobody saw him take off from
the airport in Heber, but someone reported the flash when the plane hit the
mountain. That’s all I know.”

He fell silent, looking utterly drained. Reliving the story of
Justin’s death had to be one of the most painful things he’d ever done, and it
showed. His face was drawn, his hands clenched on his knees.

Angie sat frozen. Part of her yearned to take Jordan in her
arms and hold him, comforting them both. But another, stronger part had no
desire to touch or be touched. She was too stunned to feel.

“It was never your fault, Angie,” Jordan said. “Of all my sins,
one of the worst was letting you blame yourself.”

Angie found her voice. “But it
was
my fault. And it was your fault, too. That night in your car, when we couldn’t
keep our hands off each other, we set this whole tragedy in motion.”

“You can’t think like that. Was it my parents’ fault for giving
us that ski trip? Was it the cab driver’s fault for leaving Justin at the
airport?”

“That’s enough.” Angie felt as if the life had been sucked from
her limbs. “I can’t do this anymore, Jordan. I can’t be with you.”

He made no move to stop her as she rose and walked out of the
room. Raquel had been right. Everything Jordan had done for her and her
son—bringing them here, giving them a home, trying to make Lucas his brother’s
heir, even asking her to marry him—had been driven by guilt.

More guilt than she could live with.

And not just his guilt. She meant what she’d said—it had been
her fault, too. She was the one who had given in to Jordan’s kiss in the car all
those years ago. And she was the one who had fallen for him now. Everything that
they’d shared since she’d moved into the ranch...none of it would have been
possible if it hadn’t been for that single betrayal that triggered it all.

Shivering through her robe, she crossed the parlor and dragged
herself up the stairs. There was no way she could stay here. Looking at Jordan
every day and remembering what he’d done—not just in the way he’d pushed Justin
over the edge, but also how he’d kept it from her—would tear her apart.

Lucas would be distraught, but letting him take Rudy would ease
things. And Raquel had a guest room where they could stay while she looked for a
new place. It wouldn’t be easy, but somehow she would make a good life for
herself and her son.

Jordan would want to keep seeing Lucas, of course, and Lucas
would want it, too. She would have to live with that. But every time she saw
him, she would remind herself of the reasons she’d left. And she would bury the
memory of being in Jordan’s arms, holding him close as he shattered inside
her.

Moonlight shone through her bedroom window. It was still night
outside, but she was too rattled to sleep. Pulling on her jeans and sweatshirt,
she flung open the closet and started packing.

* * *

Jordan was up at first light, filling a cup with hot
coffee to sip as he walked out to the barn. There was no sign of Angie. But that
was for the best. After last night a face-to-face encounter would be painful for
them both.

She was leaving. He knew it in his bones, and he didn’t want to
be around when it happened.

After finishing his coffee, he saddled the palomino, mounted
and headed for the foothills behind the ranch. His breath frosted the air but he
was dressed for the weather in his sheepskin coat. Before long the sun would be
up to warm the land and brighten the day.

Jordan felt no brightness as he nudged the horse to a canter.
Only now did he realize how much hope he’d staked on marrying Angie and raising
her son. In the past weeks, they’d added an element of family to his life. He’d
looked forward to coming home, hearing Lucas’s happy shout as the little boy
raced to meet him. He’d warmed with anticipation at the thought of Angie in his
bed, her loving body in his arms, her silky black hair spilling over his
pillow.

Now it was over. The scandal was out, and Angie had responded
exactly the way he’d expected. He’d done the unforgiveable by telling Justin
about that stolen moment in his car. Angie would probably hate him forever. But
at least he had nothing else to hide. The secret that had kept him prisoner was
a secret no more.

In an ironic sort of way, he was free.

Pausing on a ridge, he looked back toward the ranch. Marta’s
brown Honda was pulling into its place behind the kitchen. Except for the horses
in the corral and a curl of smoke from the bunkhouse, there was no other sign of
activity.

He would give Angie plenty of time—to leave, to think things
over, or whatever the hell she was going to do. Being there might tempt him to
say too much.

And what would he say?

That he loved her?

That he’d be miserable without her?

Would it do any good?

He crested the hill and rode up toward the line where piñon and
juniper met forests of white-trunked aspen. The sunlit trees glistened with
frost. A startled red-tailed hawk flapped off its kill. He thought of Angie and
how he’d wanted to share mornings like this with her. Now he never would.