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Curiosity getting the better of her, Olivia asked, “This farm you’re talking about. It’s really yours?”
“My grandfather started it. My father worked it. Now it’s mine.”
“Your father’s retired?”
“He died.” The terse answer invited no further comment from Olivia.
Noah walked Royal Pleasure a couple of times around the parking lot. And to Olivia’s relief he merely asked her to lead the mare back to the trailer while he used a shovel and bucket to clean up after the horse.
Finally he flashed a grin at her as he walked Royal Pleasure up into the trailer. “I had you worried about that poop, didn’t I?”
“Not at all.”
“Yeah, you were worried.” Still grinning, he stored the bucket and shovel, secured the horse and ramp and closed up the trailer. “I bet you’ve never shoveled anything in your life.”
“Of course I have.” Shoulders squaring, she started back to the truck. “Let’s just get out of here.”
Back in the driver’s seat, Noah hesitated while Libby settled herself and her dog. Then he took firm hold of her hand, turning it palm side up. “This hand has never shoveled anything, much less horse sh—poop.”
She snatched her fingers away. “That’s not true.”
He waited a moment, studying her small, set features. No one could doubt the determination in her jaw. Just as anyone could see she was completely freaked out about the police officers in the diner. In fact, she had been ready to jump right out of her skin the entire time they were eating. She almost ran out the door. Hell, she almost knocked him down trying to take the side of the booth facing the door.
“I have no doubt you are running from something,” he said at last. “I just hope whatever it is doesn’t land me in a passel of trouble, too.”
She bit her lip. If her father figured out she was with Noah, who knew what sort of fuss he would make.
“Why don’t you just tell me the truth?”
She remained silent, stroking her dog’s fur and staring out the window.
“I might be able to help.”
“You are helping. You’re taking me to that bus station. That’s all I need.”
Noah let out a long sigh. “All right. I guess since we’ve come this far, I don’t really need to know the truth.”
Frowning, he navigated his rig out onto the highway. God only knew why he was compelled to know what she was hiding. Or why he felt so sorry for her. More of that sense of honor he had learned from his mother, probably. The same inclinations had led him to rescue injured squirrels, champion the nerdiest kids at school and stand up to his no-account stepfather. Nine times out of ten his good intentions had ended up costing him. Why couldn’t he learn?
With his luck, Libby was duping him but good, playing on his sympathies with her big, brown eyes, her cute behind, her tears and that bruise on her arm. He wished to hell he didn’t feel this compunction to rescue her.
They drove for quite a distance in silence, while Noah darted glances at her pale face. She kept leaning forward, studying the mirror on the passenger’s side.
“You think one of those officers might come after us?” he asked.
She said nothing, but the frantic glance she sent toward the mirror spoke volumes.
“Just tell me this much. Is Roger Franklin going to be really angry with me?”
“Would you please be quiet?” she demanded. “You’re making me nervous.”
“Because I’m close to the truth. You’ve got something that Roger Franklin’s going to want back, haven’t you?”
“No!”
“Quit lying. What is it? Did you hide it somewhere in the camper?”
“No.”
“In your bag, maybe?”
“Please just shut up!”
“Don’t I have a right to know what I’ve helped you steal from Roger Franklin?”
“I didn’t steal anything,” she exclaimed. “It’s me he’ll be looking for.” The words seemed to burst out of her. “I’m what he’ll want.”
“What are you saying?”
She twisted around to face him, the dog whining on her lap. “Roger Franklin is my father. I’m running away from him.”
Dread kicked Noah in the belly like a fist.
Roger Franklin’s daughter. Good God, the man was going to kill him.
Later, Noah wasn’t sure how he got the truck off the highway. All he remembered was turning into the parking lot of what appeared to be an abandoned produce stand.
Moments after coming to a stop, he dragged Libby—yeah, like that was her name—and her dog across the front seat and outside the driver’s side door.
Once her feet touched the ground, she jerked away from him. “You don’t have to manhandle me.”
“I ought to do worse than that!” Noah let loose the crudest, most vulgar curses he could think of while he paced back and forth in front of her.
Libby huddled against the truck, clutching Puddin’.
Noah turned and stopped. “Are you saying Roger Franklin bruised your arm?”
Her answer was a slow, miserable shake of her head. “I fell out of a window while I was escaping.” She had the grace to at least look ashamed of having misled him about the bruise.
“You went out the window? Ran away?” Noah was just beginning to comprehend her choice of words. “Wait a minute. How old are you?”
She swallowed hard. “Almost twenty-four.”
He cursed again. “You’re an adult. Why couldn’t you just leave through the front door?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Tell me.”
Her sigh was dramatic. “Can’t you just take me on to the bus?”
“No!” he shouted. “From the looks of the security around your home, I don’t think your father takes kindly to anyone making off with what’s his. And he just might think I took you. So you owe me some kind of explanation.”
“You’re not going to understand—”
“Try me,” he ordered.
And so her tale unfolded. Her mother’s kidnapping and murder. Her father’s fears and overprotectiveness. Olivia’s many tries at freedom. Her plans to marry Marshall Crane. Her realization that marriage would only trap her further.
Only then did Noah break in. “You mean you’re the daughter who was supposed to get married today?”
“I’m the only daughter.”
Blood pounded in his temples. “And you just took off.”
“I told you. I couldn’t marry Marshall.”
“And what about him? Did you bother telling him you were leaving?”
“He would have stopped me.”
“Don’t you think you owed him some kind of explanation?”
“It’s not as if Marshall loved me or anything.”
“Then why marry you?”
She managed a short laugh. “I already told you. Marrying me was a way to cement his place in my father’s company.”
“He must have cared about you.”
“I’m sure he cared,” was her impatient, offhand reply. “But it wasn’t about love. I don’t see what this has to do—”
“Right about now this Marshall guy is probably realizing he got stood up. On his wedding day. At the altar.”
“I doubt he’ll even go to the church.”
“And does that somehow make it better?”
She took a step to the side, edging away from him. “I don’t see why you’re so concerned about Marshall.”
Noah pushed his face down close to hers. “Libby, or whatever your name is—”
“Olivia,” she supplied.
“I’m concerned about Marshall because I know how he feels. I’ve been in his place. Standing there. Waiting for a bride who doesn’t show.”
Understanding dawned slowly in her expression. “I’m sorry, but that’s still—”
“You should have had the decency to tell him.”
“And then I wouldn’t have gotten away.”
“You haven’t gotten away.” Stepping in front of her, Noah bracketed her slender body with both his arms, pinning her and her dog to the truck. “We’re going back.”
“I can’t.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
She pushed against his chest, anger sparking in her gaze while the dog whimpered a protest. “I know you’ve done me a favor, but you’re not the boss of me—”
“You made me the boss by sneaking into my rig.”
“But—”
“And lying to me.” Noah gripped her shoulders, leaning in even closer. He could smell the faint trace of her expensive perfume, could see the light sprinkling of freckles across her upturned nose. She looked so damned innocent, so sweet and vulnerable. He could be fooled by her. Fooled very easily.
As if she sensed him wavering, the big, doe eyes she’d fastened on him filled with tears. “I’m sorry I lied to you. Really I am. I just had to get away. I was desperate. Haven’t you ever been desperate?”
What he knew about desperation she couldn’t begin to imagine, Noah thought. He understood all too well feeling trapped and frightened. Compared to him, this woman didn’t know the meaning of the word.
Returning fury thickened his voice. “What the hell were you thinking, using me this way?”
“I had to get away.”
“Didn’t you think your father might assume you went with me? Or that I took you? With your father so worried about you being snatched, isn’t it logical that I might be a kidnapping suspect?”
The muscles in her throat worked as she swallowed. “I never thought about that.”
“Poor little rich girls like you never think about other people, do you?”
Color suffused her cheeks. “That’s not fair. I’m not like that.”
He had to laugh. “So now I’m supposed to think you’re spoiled but good-hearted.”
“I am not spoiled.”
Her protest barely registered with Noah as he warmed to his subject. “You’re spoiled and weak and heartless. Anyone with a heart wouldn’t just leave their groom without an explanation.”
“But you don’t see—”
“I see all right,” he muttered. “I see a pathetic woman acting like a child. If you wanted out of your father’s house, all you had to do was go through the door.”
“It wasn’t that simple.”
“He chained you up? Beat you?” Noah glanced down at the dog she clutched like a lifeline. “Did he threaten to kill your dog if you tried to leave?”
She blanched. “Of course not. He’s not a monster.”
“Then why all this drama? Sneaking out. Stowing away with me.” Noah regarded her with disgust. “It sounds to me like you’re just a little child who likes to play games and create big dramas so Daddy will come racing in.”
“You couldn’t be more off-base.”
“Just do everyone a favor and get some therapy to deal with your daddy complex.”
Olivia had never in her life wanted to hit anyone like she wanted to punch this big, sanctimonious man. She settled for grinding her foot into his.
Shouting a curse, he released his grip on her, and she ducked away. She’d be damned if she would stand here and let him pronounce judgments on her actions. He didn’t know her life, didn’t understand the forces at work between her and her father.
Noah clearly had other ideas. He hobbled around the truck and stopped her just as she was dragging her bag from the passenger seat. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“I’m absolving you of any part in my ‘little game,”’ she retorted. “Thank you and goodbye.”
“Too late for that. What’ll I say when the police or your father’s private security force track me down and haul me in for questioning?”
“I don’t care.”
“And if they decide to throw me in the pokey?”
She made an impatient sound and stalked around the front of the truck. “Now who’s creating a drama?”
He took hold of her arm again. “Just shut up and get in the truck.”
“No!” She jerked her arm from his grip. “I’m not going back. If you try to force me, then you really will be in trouble.”
“Get in the damn truck.” Without waiting to see if she would comply, he swooped in and picked her up.
Olivia was too busy hanging on to a hysterically yapping Puddin’ to fight Noah very hard. She cursed him instead, calling on each and every one of the limited number of obscenities she knew. Then she repeated them again.
He was trying to maneuver her and the dog toward the passenger door when a patrol car sped by on the road.
“Oh, hell,” Noah muttered as the car slowed.
The car turned down a road to the right.
“Maybe they didn’t see us,” Olivia murmured. “Yeah, right,” Noah agreed sarcastically. “This big, white horse trailer is hard to miss. Especially with the two of us in hand-to-hand combat here on the side of the road.”
“But they might not even be looking for us.”
The words were no sooner out of her mouth when the sound of sirens split the air.
The next few moments unfolded like a slow-motion scene in a movie. Three police vehicles—state patrol and sheriff’s—descended one after the other, brakes screeching, raising clouds of dust and gravel. The female officer from the diner was the first to bail out of her vehicle and crouch behind her open car door, calling for Noah to put Olivia down.
Dazed, Olivia said, “They’ve got guns.”
A white line around his mouth, Noah glared at her.
Then she landed in a sputtering heap in the dust.
Noah stepped over her and advanced, hands held high, toward the officers, calling out, “She’s Roger Franklin’s daughter, but I’m not a kidnapper. Just take her away. I beg of you, take her away.”
Chapter Three
The sheriff’s office was located in the county courthouse, right on the central square of the town where Noah and Olivia had been headed. From the small, barred window of the holding room where she and Puddin’ waited, Olivia could see the bus station sign. She had been so close to freedom.
If only they hadn’t stopped for lunch.
Apparently news of her disappearance had gone out from her father’s ranch to the police in the eastern counties of Texas just after she and Noah left the diner. One sheriff’s deputy remembered Olivia with Puddin’. All the officers, who had been meeting for a regular weekly lunch, remembered the horse trailer. So they had started after Noah and Olivia. One car spotted them and called for backup.
“Then everyone descended like gung-ho storm troopers,” Olivia had told the sheriff with no small amount of outrage. “It was simply ridiculous. They treated Noah like a criminal.”
The sheriff’s sunburned brow had wrinkled in consternation. “I’m sorry, Miss Franklin, but at that time, we had reason to think he might be a criminal.”
“Oh, baloney,” she had retorted. “If I had been kidnapped, don’t you think I might have told the trooper who was in the bathroom with me at the diner?”
“People who are in fear for their lives can exhibit some mighty unusual behavior,” the sheriff explained. “Sometimes they don’t ask for help.”
Olivia would have none of that, either. “In the first place, isn’t it more than a little unusual for a kidnapper to stop at a diner with his captive? And then stick around to walk his horse with five officers chowing down nearby?”
Unable to explain away that part of the scenario, the sheriff had flushed an even darker shade of red and excused himself.
This conversation had taken place just after Olivia and Puddin’ had been placed in this room. A move that had followed a screaming and barking marathon precipitated by the sight of Noah being led into the office in handcuffs.
Olivia whispered to Puddin’, “Those handcuffs were the stupidest move yet.” The dog yapped her agreement.
In the hour since the sheriff had interviewed Olivia and left her alone with an underling at guard by the door, she had imagined Noah in another part of the office being manhandled by big, bubba officers who were determined to get at the truth of her so-called kidnapping.
If Noah had been harmed in any way, she was going to make sure he received a handsome settlement. In fact, he deserved something even if he had not been harmed. As domineering and pushy as he had been, he had also tried to help her. She had repaid him by getting him in trouble, just as he had said she would. Maybe she really was the spoiled, thoughtless little child he had accused her of being.
She flushed with shame. Maybe it was time she faced some hard truths about herself.
She still couldn’t believe her father had reported her kidnapped. It spoke to his money and influence that he had been able to convince the authorities to put out such a bulletin. There had been no sign of struggle at their home. No ransom demand. Nothing but her father’s paranoia and his ability to wield his power.
A knock on the door sent Puddin’ scurrying under a chair and snapped Olivia out of her reverie. The guard poked his head in. “Your father’s coming, Miss Franklin. He coptered in from Austin.” The young officer looked so impressed with this news that Olivia wanted to smack him.
After he closed the door, she began counting down the minutes until the storm would hit the building. She was nearing seven when she heard the shouting in the hall. Puddin’ barked and jumped into Olivia’s lap. Then the door slammed open, and her father strode in, his face a thundercloud. In the hall outside, Olivia glimpsed two of the “suits.”
“Dear Lord in Heaven,” her father said, crossing the small space to where she sat, elbows propped on a scarred wooden table. “Why have they got you locked in like this?”
“Probably because I threatened to punch one of the officers in the nose.”
Roger Franklin’s normally florid complexion paled. “Now why did you do that?”
“Because this whole thing is a stupid mess. There was no reason, absolutely no reason at all, for me or Noah Raybourne to be hauled in like common criminals.”
“I thought Raybourne had taken you.”
“That’s crap and you know it.”
Her father went stiff with shock. Olivia had never spoken to him like this in her life. Even when she had been pushing hardest for independence, she had reserved her shouting and tears for later, when she was alone in her room or with Mary to comfort her. But she was tired of the civility that had netted her a big, fat zero. Maybe it was time to change.
She pushed back her chair and stood with her dog in her arms. “I want you to get Noah and that sheriff in here.”
Her father’s face darkened. “Now you just listen here, Olivia Kay—”
“I’m not talking to you unless they’re in here!” Olivia shouted. Puddin’ growled.
Roger glared at Olivia for what felt like a full minute, obviously expecting her to back down. She stood her ground. He made an impatient gesture to the “suits,” who disappeared.
A moment or two ticked past in silence while her father took a seat at the table and studied her through narrowed eyes. “I don’t know what in the world has gotten into you.”
“Don’t you think it’s about time I grew up?”
“This isn’t grown-up,” he shot back. “Running off like this on your wedding day is the mark of immaturity and recklessness, the sort of behavior I thought you were through with a long time ago.”
“Would you listen to yourself? You talk to me as if I’m twelve years old.”
“If that’s the way you act…”
Puddin’ gave a welcoming bark, and Olivia looked up to see Noah standing in the doorway, the sheriff behind him.
She took a step toward Noah. “I am so sorry about all this.”
Her father got up and came toward Noah, as well. “Yes, Raybourne, I apologize, too. I’m sorry my daughter’s foolish escapade resulted in this mess. I don’t know why she acted so stupidly.”
Olivia flushed crimson at her father’s words, feeling like a disobedient child caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
Noah started to say something but was cut off when the sheriff pushed past him and into the room. “All right, now. Everyone just settle down.” He scowled at the two “suits” who crowded in behind Noah. “You two, you get out of here.”
“My men—” Roger began.
“Can wait outside,” the sheriff said with quiet force. After the “suits” reluctantly obeyed, he gestured for Noah to take a seat along the wall, opposite the table where Roger Franklin sat and Olivia stood.
The officer ran a hand through his thinning hair and sent a frown around the room. “From what I can determine, this is a family matter that had been blown up all out of proportion.” He nodded at Noah. “Mr. Raybourne, you are free to go, with our apologies for any inconvenience.”
Noah got to his feet. “That’s all right, Sheriff. I understand you were just trying to do your job. Something that’s not always easy when rich, spoiled brats are involved.”
The contempt in his gaze caused a peculiar stab of pain in Olivia’s chest. “I am really so sorry,” she said again. “I know those words are inadequate for what you’ve gone through today. Dealing with me. Facing down a bunch of overexcited police officers. Getting dragged in here in handcuffs. Nothing I can say can make up for all that, but I hope you realize I am truly, truly sorry.”
Noah did not reply, but Olivia thought she detected a softening in his expression. She wasn’t sure why it felt so important for him not to hate her.
Roger cleared his throat impatiently and withdrew his checkbook. “I want to show you my gratitude, Raybourne.”
“That’s not necessary,” Noah retorted, his jaw squaring.
“But I insist.” Roger took out a pen and filled out the check with a flourish. “Raybourne, I’m sure your little operation will benefit from this.”
Noah went still at the word “little.” Olivia wasn’t really surprised when he shook his head at the check her father proffered.
“I can’t take it,” Noah said. “I don’t expect to be paid for helping out someone in trouble.”
“Yes, but Olivia wasn’t really in trouble,” Roger replied, still holding out the check. “She was simply being a brat, as you said.”
Noah sent Olivia a look that she couldn’t quite decipher. “She was pretty desperate to get away.”
Roger laid the check on the table and recapped his pen. “She didn’t really want to get away. She was just overwhelmed by the wedding.”
“I didn’t want the wedding,” Olivia said.
Her father shot a long-suffering smile toward the sheriff. “You don’t mean that.”
Anger thickened Olivia’s voice. “I’m sick and tired of being told what I want, what I should do and think and feel. It’s way past time that I started thinking and acting on my own. I should be on my own.”
Her father rolled his eyes. “Nonsense. You wouldn’t know the first thing to do on your own.” His gaze swept over her. “You couldn’t take care of that dog of yours. Much less yourself.”
His dismissive cruelty, displayed so callously in front of strangers, momentarily robbed Olivia of speech. All these years she had told herself he was overprotective because he loved her so much. When had the desire to keep her safe changed to a complete disregard for her abilities? For some reason he thought she didn’t have the brains or the wits to take care of herself.
“What’s wrong with you?” she demanded when she found her voice would work again. “Did what happened to Mother warp you to the point that you can’t see me as a real, live human being? When did I become just one more possession to you?”
“You’re being hysterical.” Roger rose and held out his hand. “Come along now. We’ll go home, and you can talk to Marshall—”
“I do owe Marshall an apology,” Olivia said, glancing at Noah. “It was cowardly of me to run away instead of going to him and explaining why I couldn’t marry him.”
“Yes, it was cowardly,” Roger agreed, extending his hand again. “Marshall’s waiting at the ranch. I feel sure he’ll forgive you. The wedding can be rescheduled.”
“No, it can’t.”
“Olivia—”
“Can’t you hear me at all?” Olivia demanded of her father.
“I simply don’t listen when you’re acting like a fool.”
Reeling as if she had been punched, Olivia faced the sheriff. “Am I free to go?”
“Certainly. Anytime your father—”
“I don’t care about my father,” Olivia cut in. “I’m not going anywhere with him.”
Roger sputtered a protest, which Olivia ignored. She gathered up her tote bag and started for the door, pausing only in front of Noah. “Thank you for everything. You were absolutely right. I really didn’t need this drama to walk out, did I? I should have just done it long ago.”