The Heiress and the Sheriff (7 page)

His gaze settled on her lips, and she clutched the robe even more tightly.

“If you're not, you should be,” he said slowly, then forced himself to step around her and over to the windows facing out onto the courtyard.

Gabrielle turned and watched the muscles of his shoulders flex as he folded his arms against his chest. He was dressed as she'd seen him last: in jeans and a khaki shirt with short sleeves. The sheriff's badge was hidden beneath his arm, but she instinctively knew it was there. She figured he rarely took it off. Even when he went to bed, he probably pinned it to his shorts. But then maybe he didn't wear shorts—maybe he slept in the raw. The idea of his long bronze body without a thing on it stung every inch of her with heat.

“I had some business to attend to with Matthew and his
family,” he said. “I thought I'd check on you while I was here. You weren't feeling well the last time I saw you.”

“You surprise me, Wyatt. I thought you believed my blurry vision wasn't real. That I was faking it…along with my memory loss.”

“I considered it.”

“I'm sure you did.”

Irked by his brutal honesty, she walked over to where he stood by the windows. When his eyes slanted down to her upturned face, she felt everything inside her begin to shake. Not with hostility, but from the simple excitement of being near him.

“If you really want to know, I'm feeling stronger,” she told him. “But I still lose my vision without any warning.”

“So that means Matthew doesn't want you traveling yet.”

He said it as a statement, but she answered it as a question. “No. He doesn't. So now I guess you're thinking I'm faking the headaches and blurry vision so I can continue to live here in luxury?”

He turned slightly so that he was facing her head-on. His expression was smooth—neither accusing nor believing. “I think Matthew is a doctor with a kind heart. And right now, well, he's in no condition to make judgments.”

Gabrielle frowned at him. “What does that mean?”

“The man has been through hell, and I've just handed him another plate of trouble to digest.”

Forgetting to hold the robe, her hand dropped to her side. “What sort of trouble? Have you found his baby son?”

His eyes narrowed as he turned his gaze away from her and out to the darkened courtyard. “No,” he said grimly.

“Then—”

“I had to tell him and Claudia that none of the women
who'd requested his sperm at the fertility clinic is the mother of Taylor.”

Gabrielle gasped at the realization as to what that meant. Yet she refused to believe Matthew had committed adultery. The sordid behavior didn't fit the man at all.

“Oh, dear. How did they take it?”

He slanted her a sardonic look. “How do you think? Claudia is furious. She's taking Taylor and moving out.”

“Oh, no! That isn't going to help matters.” Gabrielle spoke her thoughts out loud.

The twist to Wyatt's lips deepened. “No. I don't expect it will. I don't know what the hell Claudia is thinking. If she can't trust her husband more than this, I'm not so sure Matthew needs her.”

Gabrielle's mouth fell open as indignation poured through her. “Trust! You of all people are going to condemn Claudia for not having enough faith in her husband? He's fathered a baby somehow, yet you expect her to believe in his innocence? If you can be so open-minded about Matthew, why do you treat me like a felon? I haven't done anything wrong either.”

His face hardened, his nostrils flared. He'd seen too much pain tonight. And he'd heard too many lies from too many women in the past to take Gabrielle's accusations lightly.

“Get this straight, Gabrielle. I will never trust any woman. Especially you.”

Like a black cloud, rage blinded her to everything but the moment and the provoking expression on his face. Before she could stop herself, her palm cracked solidly against his jaw.

By the time her hand fell back to her side, she realized what she'd done. Her heart was pounding wildly and her breasts were heaving with anger and fear. Yet the conse
quences of her actions no longer mattered, she told herself. At least she'd gotten the satisfaction of retaliation.

“You might be the sheriff around here, but that doesn't give you the right to insult me!”

His eyes glowing oddly, he snagged both her shoulders—and jerked. She stumbled forward. The heels of her palms landed against his chest, preventing her from falling completely against him.

Desperately, she tried to lever herself away, but his hands snatched her waist and yanked her into his arms. Air whooshed from her lungs as her breasts flattened against his hard chest.

“Let me go, you bully! You arrogant bast—”

The rest of her words were smothered when, like a hawk swooping down on a helpless little field mouse, his mouth covered hers.

For the first few seconds Gabrielle was too stunned to resist, and then, suddenly, she was consumed with the dark, forbidden taste of him. If she'd ever sampled anything so rich or delicious she didn't know it. His hot mouth was devouring hers as his tongue slid smoothly between her teeth and against her tongue.

She felt locked in some timeless place where nothing existed but the feel of his hard body pressing into hers, the raw hunger of his lips. She wanted to stay forever in the warm space he was creating. She wanted to cling. Absorb. Never let go.

His fingers slid inside her robe and clamped around her naked breast. As the pad of his thumb teased her nipple, longing coiled in her loins and caused her to whimper in the back of her throat.

The small, sensual sound penetrated Wyatt's foggy brain. With a shocked start, he realized his body had already been set on a forward motion with no intention of stopping until
he'd buried himself inside her. God, what had come over him!

He thrust her aside so forcefully that she nearly stumbled. Stunned by the rapid escalation of her desire, and the abrupt end of their embrace, she sucked in a long breath and tried to calm her racing heart.

Finally she was composed enough to glance around the room. Once again she was shocked to see Wyatt about to walk out the door. Angry, she raced across the room and slammed the door closed before he could step through it. “Where do you think you're going?”

Beneath the brim of his hat, his brows formed a furious black line. “I'm getting the hell out of here!”

“Why? Afraid you might end up wanting a criminal?”

His lips formed a sneer while his eyes bored into her.

“Don't try to taunt me into making love to you, Gabrielle. It won't work.”

She gasped. “Are you—if you think—” She stopped, swallowed and started again. “That would be impossible. You don't know how to make love, Wyatt Grayhawk. All you know about is sex!”

His harsh laugh stabbed her in the chest. “You seemed to be liking it well enough.”

Her already pink face flamed red. “Maybe I did,” she dared. “But fires do burn out. What could you offer a woman then?”

“You'll never know,” he promised coldly.

T
he sun was fierce, but the broad-brimmed straw hat Maggie had thoughtfully purchased for Gabrielle kept the worst of the heat from pounding her head. Yet the sticky heat was the last thing on her mind as she strolled a short distance away from the ranch house.

Getting outdoors was wonderful. Finally, after five days on the ranch, she was beginning to feel physically strong again, and so far this afternoon her head wasn't hurting. If she continued to recuperate at this rate, she might be able to talk Matthew into letting her travel home.

Home.
Gabrielle didn't know why, but the word seemed all wrong when she thought of California. She supposed it was because she couldn't remember what her home had been. It might have been a place she loved. But then again, it might have been just a residence—rooms where she slept and ate, but little more. Either way, she wasn't at all sure she wanted to go back there.

Ever since Wyatt had given her the address she'd stared at the small square of paper, wondering, straining to remember. But so far not a glimmer of recollection had flittered through her mind.

With a troubled sigh, she stopped beneath the shade of a cottonwood and leaned against the rough trunk. A good half-mile across the flat pastureland she could make out the images of several barns. Dust mushroomed up from the nearby working pens, and Gabrielle wished she had the
strength to walk the distance and watch the cowboys work. She'd never been on a cattle ranch. It would be interesting to learn how the animals were branded and cared for.

Her eyes suddenly widened. How had she known she'd never been on a cattle ranch before? Had she remembered, or did her ignorance about ranch work intuitively tell her? She desperately wanted to believe it was memory. Perhaps this was a tiny start toward her recovery. She had to keep hoping. As much as she loved the Double Crown, she couldn't stay here forever. And now there was Wyatt to contend with.

She had no idea what he was thinking of her now. She hadn't seen or heard from him since he'd stopped by her room three nights ago. After the way she'd slapped him, then kissed him so wantonly, his opinion of her had probably nosedived.

Gabrielle had tried to think just as badly of him. But somehow she couldn't. No matter how hard she tried, it was impossible to forget the way she'd felt crushed in the tight circle of his arms. He'd made her feel so possessed, so wanted. She would have given him anything, right then and there. It was a shocking admission.

And then to accuse Wyatt of not knowing how to make love! Coming from a virgin that must have seemed pretty hilarious to him. He was probably still laughing. But she wasn't. Because she knew she was right. And what could be sadder than a person who didn't know how to love?

Her thoughts coupled with the heat were beginning to sap her strength, so she pushed away from the tree trunk and walked slowly back to the house. Once inside the courtyard, she went directly to her room and stripped off her sweaty jeans and blouse.

She'd just stepped under the spray of the shower when she heard Rosita's muffled voice in the bathroom.

“I can't understand you, Rosita. Just a minute.” She opened the shower door and, with a towel carelessly clutched to her front, stepped partially out of the stall.

“Is something wrong?” she asked the housekeeper.

“No. I'm sorry I disturbed you, Gabrielle. I came to your room earlier and you were gone. Then I started to worry that you'd gone outside and fainted.”

The older woman's concern for her never failed to touch Gabrielle. In less than a week she'd grown very close to the housekeeper, and she often wondered if she had a grandmother like Rosita somewhere. She would have liked to think so, but something deep inside told her she'd never experienced the motherly concern this woman had shown her.

“I'm sorry I worried you, Rosita. I did go outside for a little walk. But I made it just fine. Next time I'll be sure and tell you.”

She waved her hand in a dismissive way. “No worry now. I thought I'd better warn you that you'll be having supper in the big dining room tonight. Lily and her daughter Hannah are coming, and Ryan wants something special cooked. So you might want to put on a dress.”

“Oh, is it a special occasion of some sort?”

The old woman rolled her eyes. “I think Ryan wants to give Lily that big sparkly ring he bought for her.”

Gabrielle smiled. “Then I'll try to look my best.” She started to step back into the shower, then glanced over her shoulder at the woman. “What about Wyatt? Will he be coming?”

A knowing smile spread over Rosita's face. “Not that I know of. But Wyatt has an open invitation to the Double Crown. He's liable to show up any time.”

“Oh. Well, I was just wondering.”

Rosita's smile deepened. “He is a man to wonder about.”

Gabrielle couldn't think of a thing to say to that, and turned once again to step back into the shower. As she did, she noticed Rosita eyeing the birthmark on her hip.

“I know it's rather a strange-looking birthmark. Like a queen's crown,” she said to the woman, then laughed.

“I'm just thankful it's in a spot that doesn't show.”

“A birthmark could never hurt your beauty, Gabrielle. Go finish your shower, and I'll call you when everyone starts to gather.”

 

The old house was gone. The porch had crashed in first, then the remaining roof and walls had followed a few years later. Now there wasn't much more than a heap of decaying lumber and the stones that had once formed the foundation.

Wyatt kicked at a piece of rusty tin with the toe of his boot. Dust flew, and a lizard made a wild scramble for safety.

He didn't know what had brought him out here to this place where he'd grown up. There was nothing here now but memories. And none of them were good. Mostly he could see his father, a big strong Cherokee sitting on the porch, his black hair slicked back from a wide face, a beer in one hand and a favorite hound at his feet.

Leonard had been an intelligent, fairly educated man, but he'd lacked the ambition to use either. Especially after Marilyn had left. Even though Wyatt had been little more than five years old, he could remember his father doing nothing more than sitting beneath a shade tree for days at a time, drinking and talking to his hunting dogs rather than taking care of the cattle or horses.

After Wyatt had grown older, he'd often wondered where Leonard had gotten the money to put groceries on the table
or to pay the utilities. In the deepest part of him, he knew his mother had every reason to walk away from this place. Wyatt couldn't blame her for wanting a better life. He just blamed her for not wanting
him.

A bitter lump filled his throat; he turned away from the pile of broken dreams and headed back to his truck. At the edge of the blacktop road was a faded real estate sign: For Sale. Hundred Acres.

Who the hell would want this place? he asked himself. Not him. He had a nice house in the clean, well-to-do suburbs, a house most anyone would be proud to own. He'd be a damn idiot to want a hundred acres of overgrown land. Property that would take months to clear into pasture and hay meadows. He'd need his head examined for even considering the idea of building a ranch house on this spot. Marilyn had left this sorry place and her son behind. It wasn't a plot of fertile soil. A family hadn't grown from it then, and he'd be a fool for thinking he could build one on it now. Yet for some irrational reason the place called for him to try again.

I don't want a woman. I don't want a family.

Even as he thought the words, the memory of Gabrielle's body crushing against him burned through Wyatt like a red-hot ember. He'd never felt the things that had flooded through him when he'd kissed her. He'd forgotten where they were and why he'd touched her in the first place. He'd forgotten everything except the overwhelming need to make love to her.

You don't know how to make love, Wyatt Grayhawk! All you know about is sex!

Gabrielle's taunt had left him furious. Mostly because she'd been right. Wyatt had never made love to a woman. His connection to women had always been driven by lust. Never by his heart. Even Rita, whom he'd once believed
he'd wanted to marry, had given him plenty of romps in bed. But he'd never touched her with love. He wasn't sure he would know how.

Muttering a curse, he twisted the key in the ignition and the engine fired to life. He needed to forget this place. And he sure as hell needed to forget Gabrielle Carter. But when he pulled the truck back onto the road, he turned the nose in the direction of the Double Crown.

Just to check on her, he promised himself. If he was lucky, he would find her with her memory intact and her bags packed to leave. But luck had never ridden on Wyatt's shoulders. And he didn't expect tonight to be any different.

 

Before supper that evening, Gabrielle met Ryan's fiancée, Lily Redgrove Cassidy, and her daughter, Hannah. She was also introduced to Matthew's younger brothers, Dallas and Zane. Though both were tall and lean and strongly built like their older brother, most of the resemblance stopped there. Dallas seemed every inch the quiet cowboy who never strayed far away from his wife's side, while Zane was the single, outgoing businessman, chatting up everyone in the room.

Gabrielle got the impression that the middle brother, Zane, was very close to Matthew. Several times she noticed him casually tossing his arm around his older brother's shoulder or giving him a fond cuff on the arm. She hoped Zane's appearance would somehow help fill the void created by Claudia's conspicuous absence. But she doubted anything or anyone could make Matthew forget for one minute that his wife had separated from him.

Throughout the evening, Gabrielle tried not to think of the young doctor's troubles and to focus on the happiness she saw on Lily's and Ryan's faces every time they looked at each other.

Gabrielle had never met Ryan's estranged wife, Sophia, but she'd heard enough from the family to give her a clear picture of the woman. And when Gabrielle had learned the woman was considering fifty million for a divorce settlement, it was easy to make her own deductions about Sophia Fortune. The woman was concerned about one thing: money.

However, Lily appeared to be altogether different. There was no doubt she was a beautiful woman. Tall, with a voluptuous figure and beautiful dark hair and eyes, she made a perfect match for Ryan. But it was the love in her eyes when she looked at him, and the gentle way she touched him, that assured Gabrielle she would be right for the older Fortune. Their wedding would be a joy to the whole family. Something all of them needed.

After a delicious lengthy supper, everyone settled down for after-dinner liqueurs and coffee in the great room. When Ryan presented Lily with the engagement ring, the whole group gathered around and exclaimed over the extravagant piece of jewelry.

Awestruck, Lily gasped, “Ryan! Did you insist the jeweler put every stone he had into this ring?”

Laughing joyously, he said, “Nothing is too good for you, Lily. And I told him I wanted everyone to be able to see you were mine.” He plucked the ring from its plush velvet nest. “Let me put it on your finger.”

Her eyes full of love, Lily extended her slender hand and allowed him to slide the ring onto her fourth finger. The heavy gold band studded with sapphires, rubies, emeralds and diamonds cast sparks of fire as she held up her hand, then twisted it this way and that for everyone to get a view.

“It's…I can't describe how beautiful the ring is. I absolutely adore it.” She turned back to Ryan, her expression
suddenly full of anguish. “But I'm sorry, darling. I can't wear it now.”

Easing the ring from her finger, she handed it back to Ryan. Maggie gasped, while Hannah groaned. Matthew, Dallas and Zane exchanged concerned glances. As for Ryan, he looked as if his fiancée had just slapped him. “But, Lily. Why? You've already agreed that we'll have a December wedding!”

Sadness gripped her lovely features. “Yes. I want nothing more than to become your wife. That's why…I'm afraid to wear the ring. Sophia hasn't signed the divorce papers yet. I don't want to jinx anything by jumping the gun.”

“Mother!” Hannah exclaimed, “we've already started planning the wedding. Wearing the engagement ring isn't any different.”

Lily turned toward her daughter. “I'm sorry, Hannah. Call me superstitious or silly. I can't help how I feel. I don't want to wear my engagement ring until I know we are well and truly rid of Sophia.”

Ryan shook his head. “Lily, it doesn't matter—”

The doorbell rang, and the group looked around at the offending noise. Rosita had already gone home some time ago, so Gabrielle quickly offered to answer it.

Gabrielle was the last person Wyatt had been expecting to answer the door. For long seconds he could do nothing more than stare at the vision she made in a long burgundy dress printed with tiny white flowers. A short crocheted top of the same color was buttoned over the low neckline, giving him discreet little peeks at the plump tops of her breasts. Her hair was coiled into an elaborate twist at the back of her head and rhinestones glittered at her ears.

“Hello, Wyatt,” she said huskily.

“What the hell is going on?”

His gruff response didn't surprise her. He was not a man who wasted time with niceties. She closed the door behind her, then stepped out onto the adobe steps. “Some of the family gathered for supper tonight. Ryan has given Lily an engagement ring. Why are you here?”

Why
was
he here? Wyatt asked himself. His body answered for him. He grabbed her hand and jerked her off the steps.

“Wyatt! What—”

Before she could get the rest of the question out, he tugged her behind a clump of pampas grass that towered over their heads and hid them from view. Instantly, his arm hooked around her waist, his fingers clamped under her chin. She caught the glitter of his eyes in the darkness, and then, without warning, his lips were on hers, searching, biting, devouring.