The Cowboy and the Princess (6 page)

“And no,” he continued. “I doubt even Dave would do anything too offensive in broad daylight. I just don’t want anyone to corner you and ask you a lot of personal questions, which they’re sure to do. Word travels fast, and the fact that I now apparently have a guest-helper who could model in
Vogue
is bound to cause a stir. There aren’t many women who look like you around here. And there are absolutely none with the air that surrounds you.”

She bit her lip. “I’ll try to look more common.”

Oh, that was too amusing. He wanted to caress her cheek when he gave her the bad news that she would never look common no matter what she did, but touching her was a bad idea on too many fronts even to think about. Especially touching her right here where everyone could see.

“Just be yourself,” he said. “You’ll be fine.” He would make sure that no one ruined things for her. “Now, let’s go get those shoes. And you take as much time as you want. We’ll take the long way around so you can see all of the town.”

She smiled up at him as if he had given her the keys to the kingdom. Her eyes lit up, and, as he led her down the street past shops he had seen thousands of times in his lifetime, she turned and looked at each one as if she’d never seen a store before.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“Feed and seed. I guess you’ve never been in one of those before.”

She laughed. “I’ve never even been in a diner before today. It was fun, and I adore Molly, but—” Suddenly her hand was on his arm, her fingertips light and delicate, her touch feeling far too good. Owen’s whole body reacted. “I’m sorry you had to lie about me. And I dragged you into this. I wish I could be more honest,” she said, and he knew she was telling the truth. What must it be like to have to be followed around by a phalanx of bodyguards all the time?

And of course her men would be missing her soon.

“I can handle a little dishonesty when it’s for the right cause,” he said. “And I wouldn’t forgive myself if I let anything happen to you. The truth might open you to danger.”

But as they stood in the street, her skin against his, Owen knew that there were other dangers here that he didn’t want to think about, other temptations, other mistakes that could be made but never recalled once they were out of the box.

“I’d better get you to the store and back to the ranch,” he said. “Lydia is going to be worried.” Another half truth. Lydia would assume that Delfyne was safe with him, and she’d be half right. His thoughts might be in the wrong place, but so far he was controlling his body. Barely.

Still, his comment about Lydia had apparently cast a pall on Delfyne’s fun. Within a half hour, Delfyne had shoes, a pair of boots and some jeans and white shirts. Owen had rushed in at just the right moment to witness Delfyne’s distressed look. He realized the problem. She didn’t have any way to pay. He supposed that princesses didn’t carry cash around on them.

“Bill them to the Second Chance,” he told the clerk.

“Thank you. You will, of course, be repaid in full for all you’ve done,” Delfyne said in that every-inch-the-princess tone.

Owen’s gaze and the clerk’s locked. If the man had been the sort to ask nosy questions of his customers, Delfyne’s last line might have elicited a few. As it was, Owen was the one asking questions of himself. What
was
he doing?

He was lying, going along with this charade and acting crazy because of a woman…again.

The acting crazy had to stop right now. He knew all the facts, and he wasn’t dumb enough to fall for a woman he couldn’t have and definitely couldn’t hold. Not this time.

D
ELFYNE
rushed up to Owen the next morning, her arms out to the sides. “Do I finally look the part now? I dare anyone to mistake me for a princess like this.”

She was dressed in a plain white blouse, open at the neck, and a pair of blue jeans that clung to her curves like icing on a cake.

Heat sizzled through him, but he pushed it aside. She wasn’t asking what her jeans did to his temperature.

“You look like a woman who means business,” he said.

“And I do. Today, Lydia’s letting me back in the kitchen. We’re baking cookies. I’ll bring you some when they’re done. And then Morgan is going to show me how to milk a cow. Isn’t that exciting? That is, we have cows, of course, in Xenora, but no one has ever suggested that I might milk one.”

“I’ll just bet they haven’t,” Owen said with a grin.

She wrinkled her nose. “Make fun of me if you will, but you haven’t spent your life in a pretty box.”

He studied her. She was right. He had lived his life on his own terms and done exactly what he wanted to, when he wanted to, where he wanted to, with disastrous consequences for those closest to him.

“Is your pretty box that bad?”

She gazed up at him, her eyes bright and earnest. “No, it’s not.
I know how privileged I am, but…I’ve been impetuous at times. Always. I never walked. I ran. I never trotted sedately. I galloped. And sometimes I did things and said things that were so spontaneous and ill-thought-out that I scared those I love. There are things even beyond what they know…things I’ve done that I regret, and I—I guess I see why they’ve tried to hem me in, but it’s so very hard not to want to experience things. I know they’re not trying to punish me, but…oh, I’m saying this badly, I know.”

But she wasn’t. Not really. Owen stepped closer. “Do you feel trapped here at the Second Chance?” He’d heard that before.

She looked at him sharply and he knew that she had heard about his wife. Not a surprise, even though he knew that Andreus wouldn’t have shared much even with his family. Faye had cried to pretty much everyone who would listen before she left him.
Trapped
had been one of the nicer words she’d used. And later…everything had spiraled out of control after their tragedy.

“You’ve been completely hospitable to me,” she said. “How could I feel trapped? How could I be so ungrateful?”

That soft, silky voice washed over him, and frustration rushed through him.

“You don’t have to be grateful. I don’t want your gratitude. I know all too well that a trip to Bigsby and the Second Chance wasn’t a part of your plans.”

“And I know all too well that having a princess disrupt your life and the sanctity of your calm household wasn’t a part of your plans, either. Andreus asked a lot of you.”

“Andreus could ask for whatever he wanted, and I would give it.”

Delfyne studied him. “I—as a sister who loves her brother, I’m grateful to hear that. Andreus and you…I know your friendship dates back to college, but such loyalty as that…to offer everything—”

“Don’t make it out to be something noble. I owe Andreus.”

“Why?”

Even if she hadn’t said it, the question in her eyes let Owen know that she didn’t understand what he was talking about, and why should she? Andreus wouldn’t have spilled Owen’s secrets. Realizing that he had said too much, Owen turned away. Despite his friendship with her brother—and partly because of the friendship—he couldn’t get too personal with Delfyne. Exposing himself to that kind of risk when the barriers that separated them were so impassable…He’d have to be ten kinds of foolish to go there.

“I’d better get to work,” he said. But work wasn’t the reason he was running. There were so many reasons. The woman he shouldn’t be tempted by, the memory of his son’s tragic death, which still brought him to his knees, and…he didn’t want to talk about what had happened to forge an unbreakable bond between himself and her brother. He didn’t want to remember, and he didn’t want to see pity in Delfyne’s eyes. That was more than a man could take.

He strode toward the door as if he could chase down his problems and conquer them if only he moved fast enough.

“You’ve done it again, you fool,” Delfyne muttered to herself after Owen had gone. “Always just rushing in without thinking about what you’re doing.”

Owen had opened his house to her. He’d inconvenienced himself and he’d allowed her to lead him into lies she knew he hadn’t wanted to tell. He had been the perfect host, but she had not been the perfect guest. Even if she hadn’t spoken her questions out loud, her curiosity had been clear by her tone and her demeanor. She’d stepped over a line.

Not that she hadn’t stepped over lines before, but this time,
her reason was unnerving. Owen fascinated her. He was so obviously strong, a leader, a respected man of the community, and yet despite that strength, that air of machismo, he’d allowed her to mess up his kitchen. He’d played along with her playacting. There had not been one word about her duty.

That was heady stuff for someone like her. She had let it go to her head, and she’d wanted to know more about him even though keeping a barrier was the smart thing to do. Owen obviously wanted that barrier, too. She owed him an apology for even thinking about breaching his privacy.

But it soon became apparent that she wouldn’t be able to apologize. Owen didn’t come near the house all day. And night fell without his return.

Lying in the inky darkness at three in the morning, tossing in her bed, Delfyne knew she had to make amends, to apologize for pushing Owen.

So, long before dawn, Delfyne arose, pulled on clothing and waited for Owen. The minute she heard him moving around, she went to his door and knocked.

When he pulled open the door, he was wearing jeans and no shirt, as if he’d rushed to answer her knock, and he looked worried. She realized probably no one sought him out this early unless there was a problem, so she held up one hand.

“Nothing’s wrong,” she said quickly. “That is, I just wanted to apologize, to tell you I’m sorry about trying to wheedle out information about your relationship with my brother yesterday and also…about everything. I’m sure this whole experience has been an irritation, to say the least, and definitely an imposition. You’ve been a wonderful host. I’m grateful, and I won’t push again.”

She was intensely aware of his naked chest, of the fact that he towered over her and of those fierce, silver-blue eyes that
seemed to see things—her fears and insecurities—that she had always tried to hide.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said in that deep voice that thrilled her against her better judgment.

“I asked you for personal information you hadn’t offered. That’s an invasion of your privacy. And no one knows more than I how important privacy is. Yet I prodded you when you’ve been nothing but kind to me.”

Owen muttered something that sounded like a curse, turned and grabbed a white shirt, shrugged into it and took her by the hand. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“To talk. Somewhere we won’t be interrupted by anyone.” His tone was brusque. He was frowning.

“You’re still angry.” She couldn’t keep the sadness from her voice. “Princesses—well, we lead privileged lives and we take a lot for granted. That’s not a good thing. I suppose I’m not very good at apologies.”

“Don’t say another word.” He kept moving, his large hand hard and strong where it cupped her own. When they were out of the house, he kept walking until they were in a copse of trees beside a stream. A very large rock with an indentation in the center sat next to the water as if it had been placed there.

“Sit down,” he told her.

She sat, as if he were the prince and she the commoner. She waited. He faced her.

“I’m the one who owes you an apology,” he said.

“No, I—”

“Delfyne.” His voice was weary. “Let me finish. You were right about me being angry, but I wasn’t mad at you. I was upset about a lot of things, but none of it was your fault.”

“The nosy question was definitely my fault,” she said.

A low laugh escaped him.

“What did I say?” she asked, wondering how she could make him laugh like that again.

“It’s not the question, Princess, it’s the tone. The way you speak, all haughty and royal, as if your word is the last word.”

“Well,” she said with a small, guilty smile. “It often is.”

“I know that. I’m very aware of your rank…always.”

“My rank—it means I get my way too often. You still haven’t accepted my apology. Rank is no excuse for bad manners or prying.”

He held out his hand. “Andreus is your brother, and he’s put you in my hands because he trusts me. You deserve to know why he trusts me so much.”

“You’re friends. You’re close.”

“It’s more than that. I meant what I said when I told you that he had the right to ask anything he wanted of me. You—this arrangement—it’s more than unusual. It’s extreme in its own way. That is…I’m sure anyone in the kind of situation you and Andreus and your other family members are in often have to elude the public for safety’s sake, but it’s all new to me. Yet I fell into line, because Andreus went to the mat for me. You know that expression?”

She shook her head.

“It’s when one person supports another person with no reservations. There was a time in my life when I was in danger of losing it completely, and Andreus came to my rescue. He dropped everything—I’m sure that was no mean feat—and he flew here, listened to me and stuck by me until I could function again. It wouldn’t be out of line to say that he saved me from self-destruction. That’s why he can ask whatever he likes.”

Owen’s words were matter-of-fact, but the look in his eyes was so intense—the memories were clearly causing him pain, but he wasn’t shying away—that Delfyne felt her throat closing up.

“You don’t have to tell me anything.”

“I should have told you already. Andreus probably wanted to, but he held back out of respect for my privacy. That wasn’t fair. It might have helped both of you if the truth came out. You should know what your brother has done for me. I’ll tell you…if that’s all right with you?”

Delfyne fought the lump in her throat. She nodded.

“All right. Tell me what you know already and I’ll fill in the blanks.” Then he sat down beside her and waited.

There were inches separating him from Delfyne, but Owen instantly became aware of her nearness and of his error in sitting next to her. Tension filled his body, but he couldn’t back down. They were both caught up in this impossible situation. It wasn’t fair that she should be kept in the dark.

Besides, he was too attracted to her. If he told her what kind of man he really was, it would be one more barrier between them. He needed barriers. As many as he could manage.

“I know a little. A very little. I know you had a wife who didn’t want to ranch. I know you had a child who died. And I know that you didn’t want me here.”

“Because a woman like you doesn’t belong in a place like this.”

“If it’s such an awful place, why do you stay?”

He shook his head. “It’s not an awful place. I love it, and for me it’s the only place, but it’s not where a woman like you is meant to be.”

She stared at him. “A woman like me? Because I’m a princess?”

“Even if you weren’t. This is a beautiful land, but at times it’s harsh and demanding. The winters can be brutal. A ranch is like a mistress who eats up all of a man’s time, even when that man has money.”

“Did you deny her your time?”

“I left her alone too much, yes.”

“That was bad.”

In other circumstances her simple statement might have brought a smile to his face, but not this time. “It was. She was a woman who needed things. Light and company and fun and adoration and a much bigger world than this.”

“And yet she married you.”

“I think she thought we could compromise, that there would be more than there is. I thought so, too. At least I’m sure I gave her that impression, and she thought—because I have money—she thought I was a different kind of man than I actually am.”

“Did you take her out on dates or things like that?”

“I took her on trips, but trips are short. They’re not day-to-day. This is.” He held his hands out and nodded toward the window and the empty expanses. “But I have to give her credit. She kept trying to get me to change, and I almost considered trying it her way and living somewhere else for a while, just to make her happy. Then James died. We buried him here, and she knew I’d never leave then. She thought I blamed her.”

Delfyne looked up at him with big, dark eyes. “Did you?”

“Yes. I was on a business trip, and she was angry because I was on the road while she was stuck here in a place she hated. After she put James to bed, she called a friend, a former boyfriend, and because she felt guilty about that she went outside to talk so that she wouldn’t be cheating in the same house where her baby was sleeping. So, neither of us was there when it happened. My son died in his bed alone, and though the doctors told us that there was no way we could have known or stopped it from happening, I blamed her. I blamed myself just as much. I blamed God and everyone and everything that came near me. My little boy died in the dark alone, so I put him in the ground
on the land that my father and grandfather had made their own and I promised him that I’d never leave him alone again.

“I think it was even harder for her to be here then, living with the pain. She couldn’t stay. I couldn’t go. I think I would have gone insane and drunk myself to death if Andreus hadn’t put his own life on hold and showed up to order me around until I was able to get a handle on things myself. So…that’s how you came to be here.”

“It’s a hard story,” she said simply.

“And not one I tell often.”

She nodded solemnly. “Thank you for explaining to me. I understand more now. I see why Andreus chose this place and you.”

“Because I owed him.”

“No. Because you live with guilt because you think you failed to protect. So you won’t let that happen again. You’ll protect
me
.” Then she stood up and kissed him on the cheek. Gently.