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NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR

Joan Johnston
Hawk’s Way
Carter & Falcon

MILLS & BOON

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CONTENTS

THE COWBOY TAKES A WIFE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

THE UNFORGIVING BRIDE

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

THE COWBOY TAKES A WIFE

CHAPTER ONE

DESIREE PARRISH HAD BEEN secretly observing Carter Prescott throughout the Christmas pageant. So she saw the moment when his jaw tightened, when he closed his eyes and clenched his fists as though he were in pain. A bright sheen of tears glistened along his dark lashes. Moments later he rose from the back pew in which he sat and quietly, almost surreptitiously, left the church.

For a moment Desiree wasn’t sure what to do. She didn’t want to leave because her daughter, Nicole, hadn’t yet performed her part as an angel in the pageant. Nicole was an angel, Desiree thought with a swell of maternal pride. But it was because of her five-year-old daughter that she needed Carter Prescott’s help. Desiree had to speak privately with the cowboy, and she wasn’t sure if she would get another opportunity like this one.

According to his grandmother, Madelyn Prescott, Carter had come to Wyoming from Texas looking for someplace to settle down. What if Carter moved on before she got a chance to make her offer to him? What if he decided to leave town tonight? Without giving herself more chance for thought, Desiree rose and headed for the nearest exit. She made a detour to grab her coat and wrap a scarf around her face to protect her from the frigid Wyoming weather.

Desiree was alarmed when she stepped outside to discover her quarry had disappeared into the night, hidden by the steady, gentle snowfall. She frantically searched the church parking lot, running through the fluffy snow in the direction his footprints led, afraid he would get away before she could make her proposition known to him.

She cried out in alarm when a tall, intimidating figure suddenly stepped from behind a pickup. She automatically put up a hand as though to ward off a blow. There was a moment of awful tension while she waited for the first lash of pain. In another instant she realized how foolish she had been.

She had found Carter Prescott. Or rather, he had found her.

“Are you all right?”

She heard the concern in his voice, yet when he reached out to touch her she took a reflexive step backward. It took all her courage to stand her ground. She had to get hold of herself. Her safety, and Nicole’s, depended on what she did now.

Disconcerted by the growing scowl on Carter’s face, she lowered her arm and threaded her fingers tightly together. “I’m fine,” she murmured.

“Why did you follow me?” he demanded in a brusque voice.

“I…” Desiree couldn’t get anything more past the sudden tightness in her throat. The cowboy looked sinister wrapped in a shearling coat with his Stetson pulled down low to keep out the bitter cold. He towered over her, and she had second thoughts about speaking her mind.

But she had no choice. It was two weeks until Christmas. She had to have a husband by the new year, and this cowboy from Texas was the most likely candidate she had found. She examined Carter closely in the stream of light glowing from the church steeple.

From the looks of his scuffed boots and ragged jeans, life hadn’t been kind to him. His face was as weathered as the rest of him. He had wide-set, distrustful blue eyes and a hawkish nose. His jaw was shadowed with at least a day’s growth of dark beard. His chin jutted—with arrogance or stubbornness, she wasn’t sure which. From having seen it in church, she knew his hair was a rich, wavy chestnut brown. He had full lips, but right now they were flattened in irritation. Nonetheless, he was a handsome man. More good-looking than she deserved, everything considered.

“Look, lady, if you’ve got something to say, spit it out.”

Desiree responded to the harsh voice with a shiver that she chose to blame on the cold. Plainly the cowboy wasn’t going to stand there much longer. It was now or never.

Desiree spoke quickly, her breath creating a cloud of white around her. “My name is Desiree Parrish. I know from having spoken to your grandmother before the pageant this evening that you’re looking for a place to set down some roots.”

His scowl became a frown, but she hurried on without stopping. “I have a proposition to make to you.”

She opened her mouth and then couldn’t speak. What was she doing? Maybe this was only going to make things worse, not better. After all, what did she really know about Carter Prescott? The grown man standing before her was a stranger. She wondered whether he remembered the one time they had met. His eyes hadn’t revealed whether he recognized her name when she had spoken it. But, maybe he had never known her name. After all, they had only spent fifteen minutes together twenty-three years ago, when she was a child of five and he was a lanky boy of ten.

It was spring, and Carter Prescott had come from King’s Castle with his father to visit the Rimrock Ranch, since the two properties bordered each other. She would never even have met him if her kitten hadn’t gotten stuck in a tree.

She had been trying to coax Boots down by talking to her, but the kitten had been afraid to move. The ten-year-old boy had heard Desiree’s pleading cries and come to investigate. She thought now of all the reactions Carter could have had to the situation. He might have ignored her. Or come to see the problem but left her to solve it herself. He might have made fun of her or taunted her about the kitten’s plight. After all, she was just a kid, and a girl at that.

Carter Prescott had done none of those things. He had patted her awkwardly on the shoulder and promised to get Boots down from the tree. He had climbed up into the willow and reached for the kitten. But Boots evaded his reach. He had finally lurched for the kitten and caught her, but cat and boy had come tumbling down in a heap on the ground.

Desiree had screamed in fright and hurried over to make sure Boots was all right. She found her kitten carefully cushioned in the boy’s arms.

He had handed Boots to her with a grim smile. “Here’s your cat.”

She was too busy fussing over Boots to notice Carter’s attempts to rise. It was his gasp of pain that caused her to look at him again. That was when she saw the bloody bone sticking out through his jeans above the knee.

Her second panicked scream brought their fathers on the run. Her father picked her up and hugged her tight, grateful she was all right. She babbled the problem out to him, her voice too hysterical at first for him to realize what had happened.

Carter’s father bent down on one knee to his son. His lips had tightened ominously before he said, “Your mother will give me hell for this.”

Carter hadn’t made a sound when his father picked him up and carried him toward their pickup. His face had been white, his teeth clamped on his lips to stop any sound from escaping. Desiree had tried to follow him but her father had held her back.

“Let the boy be, Desiree,” he’d said. “He won’t want to cry in front of you.”

“But Daddy, I have to see how he is,” she protested. “He saved Boots.”

Her father relented, and she ran after Carter and his father.

“I’m sorry,” Desiree called up to Carter, her tiny legs rushing to keep pace.

“You ought to be,” Carter’s father said.

Stunned at the meanness in his voice, Desiree stopped in her tracks. But Carter turned to face her over his father’s shoulder. He nodded and tried to smile, and she knew he had forgiven her.

But she and Carter had never crossed paths again. When she asked about him several days later, her father had told her that Carter had been visiting Wyoming for only a few days. His parents were divorced and Carter lived in Texas with his mother. He wouldn’t be coming back.

Desiree had never seen Carter again, until he showed up at the Christmas pageant in Casper tonight. Was she willing to gamble her future on a man she had known for barely fifteen minutes twenty-three years ago? It seemed idiotic in the extreme.

Desiree wasn’t an idiot. But she was in urgent need of a husband. Carter might not be the same person now as he had been then. But she remembered vividly how he had cradled the kitten to keep it from harm at the expense of his own welfare. Surely he could not have grown up a cruel man. She was staking her life on it.

Carter was already turning to walk away, when she laid a slender hand on his arm. She tensed when she felt the steely muscle tighten even through the sheepskin coat.

“I need a husband,” she said in a breathless voice.

Carter’s head snapped back around. His icy blue eyes focused intently on her face.

“I’m willing to sign over half the Rimrock Ranch to you if you’ll agree to marry me. Of course,” she added hastily, “it would be a marriage in name only.”

His eyes narrowed, and she found herself racing to get everything out before she lost her nerve. “The Rimrock is the second largest outfit in the area, nearly as big as King’s Castle, your father’s place. It’s got good water and lots of grass. The house was built by my great-great-grandfather. You’d be getting a good bargain. What do you say?”

Desiree gripped his arm tighter, as though she could hold him there until he responded in the way she wished him to answer. She chanced a look into his eyes and was surprised by the humor she saw there. His lips twisted in a mocking smile.

“Surely you could get a husband in a little more conventional way, Miss Parrish,” he replied.

This wasn’t a laughing matter. The sooner Carter Prescott realized that, the better. Desiree reached up and pulled aside the heavy wool scarf that was wrapped around her face.

“You’re mistaken, Mr. Prescott.” She angled her face so he could see the vivid scar that slanted across her right cheek from chin to temple. “No man would willingly choose me for a bride.”

She raised wary brown eyes to the man before her and shuddered at the cold, hard look on his face. Her shoulders slumped. She should have known better. She should have known even the promise of the Rimrock wasn’t enough to entice a man to face her over the breakfast table for the rest of his life.

Desiree hurriedly wrapped the scarf back around her face to hide the scar. “This was a stupid idea,” she muttered. “Forget I mentioned it.”

Desiree quickly stumbled away, embarrassed by the stinging tears that had sprung to her eyes. It would have been humiliating enough to have him refuse her offer. She didn’t want him to see how devastated she was by his reaction to the scar on her face. It had been so long since she had exposed herself to someone for the first time that she had forgotten the inevitable horror it caused.

She would have to find another way to save herself. But merciful Lord in heaven, what was she going to do?

Meanwhile, Carter had been so stunned by the entire incident that Desiree had nearly reached the door of the church before he recovered himself enough to speak. By then he was glad she was gone, because he wouldn’t have known what to say. He stared after her, remembering the look of vulnerability in her deep brown eyes when she had exposed her face.

He was amazed even now at the strength of his reaction to the awful sight he had seen. He had felt fury at the destruction of something that had obviously once been quite beautiful. And pity for what it must be like to live with such a scar. And disgust that she had been reduced to begging for a spouse.

If he was honest, he also had to admit that his curiosity was piqued. How had she been wounded so horribly? Why was she so anxious to find a husband? And why had she singled him out?

Carter wondered if she remembered the one time they had met. It was a day he had never forgotten. He unconsciously rubbed his thigh. His thigh bone—the one he had broken saving her blasted cat—still ached when the weather was wet or cold. If he got tired enough, he sometimes limped. He never had liked cats much since.

For other reasons that day was etched in his memory like brutally carved glass. The scene between his mother and father when his mom had arrived at the emergency room of the hospital had been loud and vicious. It was easy to see why his parents hadn’t stayed married. They had been in the process of a divorce when he was conceived, and he had been born before the divorce was final. His mother just hadn’t seen fit to inform his father of that fact. She had only brought him to Wyoming to meet his father because Wayne Prescott had accidentally found out about his son and demanded visitation rights.

The incident at the Rimrock Ranch had convinced his mother that his father was not a fit custodian. That day had been the first and last he had seen of Wayne Prescott. So Carter remembered well his first meeting with Desiree Parrish. It had been a dark day in his life.

Desiree was correct in her assumption that he wanted roots, but his wants and needs had culminated in a specific objective. He wanted the land that would have been his inheritance if his mother and father hadn’t divorced. He wanted King’s Castle.

Unfortunately, on his father’s death the land had gone in equal shares to his father’s very young widow, Belinda Prescott, and his father’s bastard son, Faron Whitelaw. Carter had already made a generous offer to them for the land. They had promised him an answer tonight.

He felt queasy at the thought that they might refuse him. Where would he go if he couldn’t stay at King’s Castle? Where would he find the solace he so desperately needed from the memories that relentlessly trailed him wherever he went? He had been running for so long—six years—that he had begun to wonder if there would ever be an end to it.

As he stepped into the cab of his pickup and headed back to King’s Castle, he couldn’t help thinking about the offer Desiree Parrish had made to him. He remembered well the lush, grassy valleys to be found on the Rimrock. A river carved its way over the prairie, right through the ranch. The ranch house was a two-story, wooden-planked structure, simple but enduring. He had never seen the inside.

To tell the truth, before he had discovered King’s Castle was on the market, he had inquired about purchasing the Rimrock. His agent had been told, in no uncertain terms, that the ranch was not for sale. So why had Desiree Parrish offered him half the place for his name on a marriage certificate? And how could she have believed that someone rich enough to buy the Rimrock, lock, stock and barrel, would bargain away his freedom for it?

Unless she doesn’t know you’re rich.

Carter found himself chuckling as he realized the image he must have presented to the young woman, unshaven, with his jeans frayed and his boots worn to a nub. Apparently his grandmother hadn’t told Desiree his true circumstances. He sobered abruptly. He had learned, to his sorrow, that wealth couldn’t buy happiness. In fact, it had been the source of great tragedy in his life.

Carter felt the tension pounding behind his eyes. He never should have given in to his grandmother’s pleas for him to attend the Christmas pageant. Tonight the memories had come back to haunt him. Listening to those childish voices, seeing those angelic faces, had brought all the pain of betrayal and loss back into sharp focus. He wanted to forget the past, but he wasn’t sure it was possible. Guilt rode heavy on his shoulders. And regret. And anger.

Carter stopped his truck in front of the ranch house at King’s Castle, a three-story stone structure with turrets and crenels, which his father had called The Castle. It didn’t fit this land anywhere near as well as the simple house on the Rimrock. He headed around back to the kitchen door, which he knew would be open. He found his way through the darkened house to the elegant parlor, where a fire still glowed in the grate. He stirred the ashes and added a log from the pile nearby. Finally, he poured himself a whiskey and settled into the chair near the fireplace, where he could empty his mind of the painful past and concentrate on the future.

It was Desiree Parrish who filled his thoughts. He remembered how tiny, almost delicate, she had seemed next to his great size, how the snowflakes had gathered on her dark hair and eyelashes. Those memories were overshadowed by the look of fear in her huge brown eyes when she had revealed her scar to him. And by the way she had braced herself for his revulsion.

It was true the scar was ugly, but Carter had shifted his gaze to her eyes, which had called out to him. He had seen a wounded spirit that was the equal of his own. It had taken a great deal of effort to resist reaching out to fold her protectively in his arms. Fortunately, she had run before he could do something so foolishly impulsive.

Carter didn’t know how long he had been sitting there, when he heard Madelyn and Belinda Prescott and Faron Whitelaw returning. He felt his gut tighten, reminding him how much their answer mattered to him. He wanted this place; he needed this place, if he was ever to forget the past and go on with his life.

Madelyn entered the room scolding. “What happened to you, young man? There were several more people I wanted you to meet, although I suppose we can have a party here and—”

He had risen the instant she came into the room and was already there to help her out of her coat. “I’m not much interested in parties, Maddy.”

“You should be,” she countered. “Why, a handsome young man like you ought to be settled down now, with babies and—”

“I just want an answer from Belinda and Faron, one way or the other,” he said sharply, cutting her off again. He laid her coat across the sofa, which gave him a chance to focus his attention anywhere except on Belinda and Faron. He was afraid he might see their answer to his offer on their faces. He was afraid that answer would be no.

At last, he forced himself to look at them. They were staring at each other, and he could feel the tension between them. His heart began to pound, sending blood rushing to his head, making him feel dizzy. He reached for his whiskey and swallowed a restoring gulp. He met his half brother’s eyes and said, “Well, what have you decided?”

“Give us another few minutes,” Faron said. “Belinda and I have some things we need to discuss before we can give you an answer.” Faron quickly ushered Belinda out of the room and into the ranch office across the hall.

Carter crossed to the bar so he would have his back to his grandmother. He didn’t want her to see the frustration—and fear—he felt. He poured a glass of port and turned to hand it to Madelyn. His casual calm was hard won. The hell of it was, he didn’t think he was fooling Madelyn for a minute.

His grandmother settled herself on the sofa. Instead of launching into a thousand questions, she sipped her port and stared into the fire.

He was too nervous to sit and too proud to let Madelyn see him pacing anxiously. He hooked an arm over the mantel and focused on the map of King’s Castle that hung above it. The boundaries had changed over the hundred-odd years the land had been owned by Prescotts, but even now it was an impressive spread. He froze when he heard the office door open.

“Maddy, can you come in here for a minute?” Faron called.

“Excuse me, Carter,” the old woman said. “I hate to leave you alone. I’m sure I won’t be gone long.”

He didn’t look at her, afraid that his feelings were naked on his face. “Don’t worry, Maddy. I’m used to being alone.”

He could have bitten his tongue after he’d said the words, knowing how much he had revealed in that simple sentence. He felt more than saw, her hesitation. But he heard her set her glass down on the end table and leave the room.

He shook his head in disgust. How had he let possessing The Castle matter so much to him? He was only setting himself up for disappointment. He should have come sooner, when Wayne Prescott was still alive, and demanded his heritage. But he hadn’t needed Wayne’s land then. He hadn’t yet experienced the tragedy that had left him rootless and alone.

“Carter?”

He forced all emotion from his face as he turned to face Faron, who was flanked by the two women. He knew the answer before Faron spoke.

“We’ve decided not to sell.”

CHAPTER TWO

DESIREE CONCENTRATED ON THE road, which was slick with a layer of ice and difficult to see through the blowing snow. She had been among the last to leave the church, since she had helped with the cleanup. The storm had worsened in the past hour, and Desiree wished she had asked someone to follow her, at least until she got to the turnoff for the ranch. She didn’t want to end up stuck on the road somewhere overnight, although if she ended up frozen to death that would solve the worry of finding a husband.

Beside her, Nicole chattered on happily about the Christmas pageant. Desiree responded to her daughter, but her thoughts were elsewhere. She was mentally kicking herself for being so foolish as to confront a perfect stranger with a proposal of marriage.

“Did you see me, Mommy? Was I a good angel?”

“You were wonderful, sweetheart. A perfect angel.”

Desiree worried her lower lip with her teeth. Why hadn’t she stood firm until she had an answer from Carter Prescott? Because she was afraid, that’s why! But although the ragtag cowboy’s eyes had been cold, they hadn’t been unkind. And while he had towered over her, she hadn’t felt threatened. It had been the fear of rejection, not the fear of physical harm, that had sent her fleeing into the night.

“Did you see me fly, Mommy?”

Desiree smiled at the image of her daughter flapping her angel’s wings. “I certainly did.” She had watched the finish of the Christmas pageant from the shadows along the side aisle of the church, her chest aching with love—and fear. She must find a husband before the new year. Her safety, and Nicole’s, depended on having a man’s presence in the house. If only she had been less fainthearted about confronting Carter Prescott!

“Look at me, Mommy. Look! I can fly even without my wings!”

“Nicole! Sit down, and put your seat belt back on this instant!”

Nicole quickly dropped down on the seat and began hunting for the end of the seat belt in the darkened cab.

Desiree had taken her eyes off the road only for a second, but that was enough. She caught a patch of ice and felt the pickup begin to slide. She turned the wheel into the skid and resisted the urge to brake, knowing that would only make things worse. But she could already see the truck wasn’t going to recover in time to stay on the road.

Nicole gave a cry of alarm as the pickup began to tilt. “Mommy! We’re falling!”

“It’s all right, Nicole. Sit still. Everything will be fine.” Desiree’s heart pounded as the pickup slid sideways off the road into a shallow gully.

The truck thumped to a stop at a sharp angle with the right wheels lodged in snow two feet deeper than the left ones. It took a second for Desiree to realize they really were all right. Nicole whimpered in fright.

Desiree reached over and grabbed Nicole and pulled her daughter into her lap, hugging her tight. “It’s all right, sweetheart. We’re fine. Everything’s fine.”

“We’re going to fall, Mommy.”

“No, we’re not. The truck is stopped now. It’s wedged in the snow. It won’t tip any more.” But she wasn’t going to be able to drive out of this gulley. Which meant that unless she wanted to spend the night in the truck, she was going to have to walk back the two miles or so to the church and call for help.

“You’ll have to wait here for me, Nicole, while I—”

“No, Mommy! Don’t leave me! I’m scared!”

Despite her daughter’s cries, Desiree shifted her onto the seat. “I won’t be gone long.”

“Don’t leave! Please, Mommy.” Nicole clambered back into Desiree’s lap and twined her arms around her mother’s neck.

Desiree hugged her daughter, fighting the tears that stung her nose and welled in her eyes.

She had been on her own for six years. She had gone through her pregnancy alone and had raised Nicole without help from anyone. Forced to cope with whatever life had thrown at her, somehow she had survived. She and Nicole were a family. Sliding off the road wasn’t nearly the disaster that loomed on the horizon. Soon their very lives would be in danger.

So what if she was stuck miles from home in the middle of a snowstorm with her daughter clinging to her neck like a limpet? They, and the truck, had endured without a scratch. There was no reason to cry. But her throat had swollen so thick it hurt to swallow, and she could feel the heat of a tear on her cold cheek.

It wasn’t the accident that was causing her distress, she conceded; it was the knowledge that she had so little control over her life.

Desiree took a deep breath and let it out. She had managed so far to keep things together. She just had to take one step at a time. She retrieved the blanket she kept in the well behind the seat and wrapped Nicole snugly in it.

“Mommy has to call a tow truck to haul us out of here,” she explained to Nicole. “The closest phone is at the church. You need to wait right here for me until I get back. Don’t leave the truck. If you wander off, you could get lost in all this snow. Okay, sweetheart?”

It was a sign of how much more quickly the child of a single parent had to grow up that Nicole sniffed back her tears and nodded reluctant agreement to her mother’s order. There was a risk leaving Nicole alone, but there was even greater risk in taking her out walking in the bitter cold.

“I won’t be gone long,” Desiree promised as she closed the truck door behind her. Desiree wished she had a warmer coat to keep out the bitter wind, but at least she had warm boots. She would be cold when she arrived at the church, but anyone who lived in Wyoming was inured to the harsh weather.

To Desiree’s amazement, she had been walking no more than two minutes, when she saw headlights through the snow. She was afraid she would be lost in the dark at the side of the road, so she stepped out onto the pavement and waved her arms. She knew the moment when the driver spotted her, because the pickup did a little slide to the side as it slowed.

As soon as the truck stopped, she raced to the driver’s window. The door had already opened, and a tall man was stepping out.

“I need help! I—”

“What the hell are you doing out here walking on a night like this? Where’s your car?”

Desiree felt her heart thump when she realized she was staring into the furious eyes of Carter Prescott. “My truck slid into a ditch. I was going back to the church to call for a tow. Can you give me a ride?”

“Get in,” he said curtly.

Desiree raced around to the other side of the pickup before Carter could reach out to touch her.

As he pulled his door closed he said, “It’s doubtful you’ll get a tow truck to come out in this storm. I’ll give you a ride home.”

Desiree debated the wisdom of arguing with him. But she would rather have Nicole safe and warm at home than have to wait with her daughter in the cold until a tow truck arrived. “All right. But I left something in my truck that I need to pick up. It’s only a little way ahead.”

When Carter pulled up behind her truck he said, “Do you need any help?”

“I can handle it.” Desiree was struggling with the door on Nicole’s side of the truck, when it was pulled open from behind her. She whirled in fright—to find Carter standing right behind her.

“I figured you could use some help, after all.”

Desiree took a deep breath. This man wasn’t going to harm her. She had to stop acting so jumpy around him. “Thank you,” she said.

The instant the truck door opened, Nicole came flying out. Desiree barely managed to catch her before she fell. In fact, she would have fallen if Carter hadn’t put his arms around Desiree and supported both her and the child.

“This is the something you needed to pick up?” he asked.

Desiree heard the displeasure underlying his amazement and responded defensively, “This is my daughter, Nicole.”

“You didn’t say anything about a kid earlier this evening.”

“It wasn’t necessary that you know about her until we had reached some agreement.”

“I don’t think—”

Desiree cut him off. “I would rather not discuss this further until we’re alone.” Which was tantamount to a suggestion that they ought to have further discussion on the matter in private, Desiree realized too late.

“All right,” he said.

“You can let go now. I’ve got her.”

He was slow to remove his support, and Desiree was aware suddenly of how secure she had felt with his arms around her. And of being very much alone without them.

She carried Nicole the short distance to his truck. He held the passenger door open, but she found it awkward to step up into the truck with Nicole in her arms.

“Give her to me.” Carter’s tone of voice made it plain he would rather not have handled the child. Before either Desiree or Nicole could protest, he had the girl in his arms.

Desiree had barely settled herself in the truck when Carter dropped Nicole on her lap, shoved her thin wool coat inside and slammed the truck door closed.

“The turnoff for the Rimrock is about five miles ahead on the right,” Desiree instructed.

“I know.”

“How—”

“I drove by there on the way to my grandmother’s. I haven’t forgotten visiting your place when I was ten.”

She watched him rub his thigh and wondered about the bone he had broken so many years ago. “Does it still bother you?”

“Sometimes.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No need to be. It was my own fault.”

He looked sinister in the green light reflected off the dash, not at all like the savior she had sought out in the parking lot of the church.

“What’s your name?” Nicole asked. “Do you know my mommy? I was an angel tonight. Do you want to see me fly?”

Carter’s lips flattened in annoyance.

In the uncomfortable silence that followed her daughter’s questions, a frown grew in the space between Desiree’s brows. Carter’s refusal to answer Nicole was rude—or at least, inconsiderate. Did Carter simply not like children? Or was it just Nicole’s behavior he didn’t approve of?

Carter’s lack of response did nothing to curb Nicole’s curiosity.

“Are you coming to our house?”

“Yes,” Carter replied sharply.

Desiree realized he had probably been curt in hopes of shutting her daughter up. But Nicole wasn’t deterred by Carter’s antagonism. The little girl had learned through dealing with a mother who was putty in her hands that persistence often won her what she wanted.

“Do you want to see my room?”

Carter sighed.

Desiree could see that he wanted to say no. He sought out her eyes, his lips pursed in displeasure. She decided to rescue him from her daughter’s clutches.

“It’s nearly bedtime, sweetheart. You’ll have to wait to show Mr. Prescott your room until some other time.” It was all she could do to keep her own displeasure at the cowboy’s surliness out of her voice.

“Are you going to be my daddy?”

“Nicole!”

Desiree was mortified at the question because she had, in fact, proposed to the man sitting across from her, and because she hadn’t realized Nicole was even aware that she was seeking a husband. The little girl’s next words made it clear that she had thought of the idea all on her own.

“My friend Shirley has a daddy, but I don’t. I asked Santa Claus for a daddy, but so far I haven’t got one. Are you the daddy I asked for?”

“No,” he said in a strangled voice.

“Oh. Well, it’s not Christmas yet,” Nicole said cheerfully. “Maybe Santa Claus will bring me a daddy.”

Desiree was chagrined at her daughter’s outspokenness. However, if she had anything to say about it, Nicole would get her wish, although Carter’s attitude toward Nicole was a matter that needed further exploration before their discussion of marriage continued.

Carter was pleased when they reached the Rimrock ranch house to discover it was just as he remembered it. The two-story frame structure had been built to last by people who cared. Someone had planted pines and spruce around the house, and with the drifting snow it was a scene worthy of a picture postcard.

“Follow the road around to the back,” Desiree said.

Carter didn’t volunteer to carry Nicole from the truck, and Desiree didn’t ask. But halfway to the door, and though it made his stomach clench, he took the little girl in his arms to relieve Desiree of a burden that was obviously too heavy for her.

To his surprise, when he reached for the doorknob, he discovered that Desiree had locked the back door. Most ranches, even in this day and age, were left open, a vestige of range hospitality from a time when homesteads had been few and far between.

“Afraid of the bogeyman?” he asked with a wry grin.

Desiree didn’t smile back. “I have to think of Nicole’s safety.” She stepped inside, turned on the light and held the door for him.

Carter immediately set the little girl down. His heart thudded painfully as he watched her race gleefully across the room, headed for the hall. She turned on the light and kept going. Carter could hear her running up the stairs.

“Make yourself comfortable while I put her to bed,” Desiree said, following Nicole down the hallway that led to the rest of the house. “We’ll talk as soon as I get her down. There’s coffee on the stove or brandy in the living room. Help yourself.” Then she was gone.

Carter hadn’t been in the house before, but he knew the moment he crossed the threshold that this was a home. A band tightened around his chest, making it hard to breathe. This was what he had been seeking. There was warmth and comfort here, not only for the body, but also for the soul.

The kitchen was cluttered, but clean. There were crayon drawings taped to the refrigerator, and a crock full of wooden spoons and a stack of cookbooks sat on an oak chest in the corner. The red-and-white linoleum floor was worn down to black in front of the sink, and the wooden round-leg table and ladderback chairs were scarred antiques. An old-fashioned tin coffeepot sat on the stove. Carter decided he would rather have the brandy.

He followed where Desiree had gone, down a hallway, past a formal dining room, to a combination office and parlor, where a stone fireplace took up one wall and a large rolltop desk took up most of another. A picture window took up the third wall. The fire had burned down to glowing embers, and Carter took the poker and stirred the ashes before adding another log.

A spruce Christmas tree stood in the corner, decorated with handmade ornaments. Above the fireplace, a set of longhorn steer horns a good six feet from tip to tip had been mounted.

Carter looked longingly at an old sofa and chairs that invited him to sit down. He heard a whoosh from the vents as the furnace engaged. As he surveyed the room, he realized that the aged quality he had admired so much in the furniture was as much the result of poverty as posterity. Certainly there were heirlooms here. But there was a shabbiness to the furnishings that could only be the result of limited funds.

Carter felt sick to his stomach. Maybe Desiree Parrish knew more about him than he had thought. Maybe she had come after him because she knew he had the money to restore this ranch to its former glory. He had been married once for his money. It wasn’t an experience he intended to repeat.

He spied the wet bar where he found the brandy and glasses. “Would you like me to pour one for you?” he called up the stairs.

“Please. I’ll join you in a moment,” Desiree called down to him.

Desiree took a deep breath and let it out. She had another chance to persuade Carter Prescott that he should marry her. She had to do everything in her power to convince him that she—and the Rimrock—were a bargain he couldn’t refuse.

She leaned over and kissed Nicole good night. “Sleep tight, sweetheart.” She left a small night-light burning. Not for Nicole. It was Desiree who feared the dark. She had made it a habit to leave a light so she could check on her daughter without the rush of terror that always caught her unaware when she entered a dark room.

Desiree closed her daughter’s bedroom door behind her and hurried across the hall to her own room. She slipped out of her coat, which she hadn’t even realized she was still wearing. But she had turned the heat down before she’d left for church to conserve energy, and it took time for the furnace to take the frost out of the air.

She crossed to the old oak dresser with the gold-framed mirror above it and checked her appearance. This was a heaven-sent second opportunity, and she wanted to look her best. It had become a habit to sit at an angle before the dresser, so only the good side of her face was reflected back to her. She forced herself to face forward, to see what Carter Prescott would see.

There was no way to disguise the scar. It was a white slash that ran from chin to temple on her right side. Plastic surgery would have corrected it, but she didn’t have the money for what would be purely cosmetic work. She put another layer of mascara on her lashes and freshened her lipstick. And she let her hair down. It was the one vanity she had left. It spread like rich brown silk across her shoulders and down to her waist.

She smoothed her black knit dress across a body that was curved in all the right places, but which she knew had brought her husband no pleasure. Desiree forced her thoughts away from the sadness that threatened to overwhelm her whenever she looked at herself in a mirror. She had to focus on the future, not the past. This was her last chance to make a good impression on Carter Prescott. She couldn’t afford to waste it.

But it took all her courage to open the bedroom door and walk down the stairs.

Carter controlled the impulse to gasp as Desiree entered the parlor. It was the first time he had seen her when she wasn’t shrouded in that moth-eaten coat. She moved with grace, her body slim and supple. Her dress hugged her body, revealing curves that most women would have died for. His groin tightened with desire.

He thought maybe his hands could almost span her waist. There wasn’t much bosom, but more than a handful was a waste. His blood quickened at the thought that if she were his wife, he would have the right to hold her, to touch her, to seek out the secrets of her body and make them his.

He wasn’t aware he was avoiding her face until he finally looked at it. His eyes dropped immediately to the brandy in his hands. He forced himself to look again, but focused on her eyes. They were a rich, warm brown, with long lashes and finely arched brows. It was clear she had once been a very beautiful woman. Once, but no more. The scar ran through her mouth on one side, twisting it down slightly.

“Did you pour a brandy for me?” she asked.

Carter realized he was staring and flushed. He welcomed the excuse to turn away, and shook his head slightly, aware he ought to do a better job of hiding his feelings. She had to look at that scar every day. The least he could do was face her without showing the pity he felt. He turned back to her with the drink in his hand and realized she had turned herself in profile, so he only saw the good side of her face. Desire stabbed him again.

He wondered if she had done it on purpose or whether it was an unconscious device she used to protect herself when she was with other people. At any rate, he was grateful for the respite that allowed him to speak to her without having to guard his expression.

Desiree took the drink from him. “Why don’t you sit down and make yourself comfortable?” She gestured to a chair near the fire and sat down across from him on the sofa so he saw only her good side. “I never gave you a chance earlier this evening to respond to my proposal.”

“I was glad for the time to think about what you had to say.” Carter took a sip of his brandy.

“And?” Desiree held her breath, determined to wait for his answer. Her nerves got the better of her. She couldn’t help making one last pitch. “You can see the house is comfortable.” She forced a smile. “And I’m a good cook.”

“Tell me again why you want to get married,” he said in a quiet voice.

Desiree debated the wisdom of telling Carter the real reason she needed a husband. She had always believed honesty was the best policy. When she opened her mouth to speak, what came out was, “I’ve been on my own for six years. Nicole needs a father. I…the winters are long when you’re alone. And I could use a partner to help me do the heavy work on the ranch.

“As you’ve seen for yourself, my face makes it impossible for me to attract a husband in the conventional way. I decided to take matters into my own hands.”

“Why me?”

“Your grandmother speaks highly of you.” She smiled. “And I haven’t forgotten how you saved Boots.”

“Boots?”

“My cat.”

He rubbed his thigh and grimaced. “Right.”

So maybe she didn’t know about his money, Carter thought. She wanted company. And a father for her child. And someone to do the heavy work on the ranch. That made sense. And he could understand why she didn’t trust a man to see beyond the scar on her face. He was having trouble doing that himself, although his body had responded—was responding even now—to the thought of joining hers in bed. She had beautiful eyes. In profile, the scar didn’t show at all. And in the dark…

He would be giving her something in return for something he wanted very badly. Carter knew he could put down roots here. This place felt like a real home. He wanted to make it his. Though Desiree apparently didn’t know it, he had the money to restore the Rimrock to what it had once been, to make it even better.

He wanted to ask her when and where she had gotten the scar on her face, but he figured that could wait until they got to know each other better. Assuming they did.

“I have two problems with your proposal,” he said.

Desiree had been certain he was going to say a flat no, so she welcomed the opportunity to overcome his objections. “What problems?”

Carter’s lips thinned. “I hadn’t counted on the girl. I’d want her kept out of my way.”

Desiree bristled. “This is Nicole’s home. I wouldn’t think of confining her to any part of it to keep your paths from crossing. If you can’t handle the fact that I have a daughter, this isn’t going to work.”

Carter was amazed at how Desiree’s eyes flashed like fire when she was angry. In that moment, her scar made her look like a fierce warrior. He nodded abruptly. “All right.” He supposed it wasn’t necessary for her to keep the child out of his way; he would do whatever was necessary to keep his distance from the little girl.

“And the second problem?” Desiree asked.

“I can’t agree to a marriage in name only.”

Desiree paled. Her heart pounded, and her stomach rolled over so she felt like throwing up. She couldn’t couple with any man, ever again. “Why not?” She forced out the words through stiff lips.

“I don’t plan to spend the rest of my life as a monk. I’d expect my wife to provide the necessary comfort on cold winter nights.”

Desiree flushed as his eyes boldly assessed her body. She found the man she had selected to be her husband quite handsome. But she had learned from bitter experience that a man became a beast when satisfying his sexual needs. She dreaded what he might expect of her. She was certain she had nothing to offer him.

But it would humiliate her to have her husband going to some other woman for his needs. In their small ranch community the talk would be bad enough if he married her. She didn’t want to give her neighbors any more reason to gossip.

“I’m willing to compromise,” she said at last.

“There is no compromise on this,” he said. “Either you’re willing to be my wife or you’re not.”

“I’m willing to be a real wife,” she assured him. “But not until we know each other better.”

Carter’s lips twisted. “How long do you expect that to take?”

“I don’t know.” Desiree looked him in the eye and watched as he stared back, careful not to let his eyes drop to her scar.

“All right,” he said at last. “I accept your proposal.”

CHAPTER THREE

THEY DECIDED TO BE MARRIED a week later in a civil ceremony in Casper. Desiree offered Carter the guest bedroom, but he decided to stay in a hotel in town until the wedding so he could take care of some unfinished business.

“I’d like Nicole to be present at the wedding,” Desiree said as she stood holding his shearling coat for him at the kitchen door.

“Is that really necessary?”

“Once we’re married, you’ll be her father. I think it would help her to adjust better if she saw us take our vows.”

“From what I’ve heard, she’ll probably think I’m a gift from Santa Claus,” he muttered.

Desiree couldn’t help smiling. Chances were, Nicole would.

THE DAY OF THE WEDDING dawned clear and crisp. Most of the snow had blown away or into drifts, revealing a vast expanse of golden grass. Desiree woke with a feeling of trepidation. Was marriage the right solution to her problem? Would she and Nicole achieve safety by bringing Carter Prescott into the house? Was that alone enough? She considered buying a gun to protect them, but realized that she wouldn’t be able to use it, so it would only become one more danger.

Desiree was still snuggled under the warm covers when she heard the patter of bare feet on the hardwood floor. Her door opened and Nicole came trotting over to the four-poster.

“Where are your slippers, young lady?” Desiree chastised as she hauled Nicole up and under the covers with her.

Nicole promptly put her icy feet on Desiree’s thigh.

“Your feet are freezing!”

Nicole giggled.

Desiree took her daughter’s feet in her hands and rubbed them to warm them up. “Today’s the day Mr. Carter and I are getting married,” she reminded Nicole.

“Is he going to be my daddy now?”

“Uh-huh.” Desiree hadn’t asked how Carter felt about being called Daddy. Surely he wouldn’t mind. After all, being called Daddy didn’t require any effort on his part.

One of her major concerns over the past week had been how well Carter would get along with Nicole. During his visits he was brusque if forced to speak at all, but mostly he held himself aloof from Nicole. She supposed that was only natural for a man who apparently hadn’t spent time around children. And a man his age—he must be thirty-three or thirty-four—probably didn’t remember what it was like to be a child. Obviously he would need a little time to adjust.

Desiree glanced at the clock and realized that by the time she put a roast in the oven for their post-wedding dinner, she would barely have enough time to dress herself and Nicole and get into Casper before they were due in the judge’s chambers. “We’d better get moving, or we’re going to be late.”

Desiree took a deep breath and let it out. For better or worse, her decision had been made. Whatever price she had to pay for her own and her daughter’s safety was worth it. Marriage, even the duty of the marriage bed, was not too great a sacrifice.

Carter was having second thoughts of his own. He paced the empty hallway of the courthouse in Casper, waiting for his bride. The sound of his bootsteps on the marble floors echoed off the high ceilings. The loneliness of the years he had spent wandering kept him from bolting. Roots. Finally he had found a place where he could belong. He would settle down on the Rimrock and be a husband and father. Again.

He paused in midstep. The sudden tightness in his chest, the breathlessness he felt, made him angry. He should have put the past behind him long ago. Beginning today he would. He wouldn’t think about it anymore. He wouldn’t let it hurt him anymore. It was over and done.

He looked up, and there she was.

“Hello. I’m sorry I’m late,” Desiree said.

His gaze shifted quickly from the scar that twisted her smile to the first place he could think to look—his watch. “You’re right on time.”

“I didn’t think I’d make it. We were late getting up and—”

“Are you going to be my daddy?”

“Nicole!” Desiree clapped a hand over her daughter’s mouth. “She’s a little excited.”

“So am I,” Carter admitted with a wry smile. “Shall we get on with it?” He snagged Desiree by the elbow and headed in the direction of the judge’s chambers. She was wearing that moth-eaten coat again. He wondered what she had on under it. He didn’t have to wait long to satisfy his curiosity. The judge’s chambers were uncomfortably warm, and Desiree slipped the black wool off her shoulders and laid it over the back of a brass-studded maroon leather chair.

She smiled at Carter again, and he forced his eyes down over the flowered dress she was wearing. It was obviously the best she had, but wrong for the season, and it showed years of wear. He felt a spurt of guilt for not offering her the money for a new dress. But since she apparently didn’t know about his wealth, he preferred to keep it that way. Then, if feelings developed between them, he would be sure they weren’t motivated by the fact he had a deep pocket.

Desiree couldn’t take her eyes off Carter. She was stunned by his appearance. In the first place, he had shaved off the shadow of beard. His blunt jaw and sharp, high cheekbones gave his face an almost savage look. His tailored Western suit should have made him look civilized, but instead it emphasized the power in his broad shoulders and his over-six-foot height. “You look…wonderful,” she said.

For some reason, Carter appeared distressed by the compliment. Then she realized he hadn’t said anything about how she looked. It didn’t take much imagination to figure out why. She had done nothing to hide the scar on her face. She had seen how his eyes skipped away from it. But he was still here. And apparently ready to go through with the wedding.

The judge entered his chambers in a flurry of black robes. “I’ve only got a few minutes,” he said. “Are you two ready?”

“There are three of us, Judge Carmichael,” Carter said, nodding in Nicole’s direction.

“So there are,” the judge said. He peered over the top of his black-rimmed bifocals at the little girl. “Hello there. What’s your name?”

Nicole retreated behind her mother’s skirts.

“Her name is Nicole,” Desiree said.

“All right, Nicole. Let’s get your mommy married, shall we? Why don’t the two of you stand together in front of my desk?” the judge instructed Carter and Desiree. He called his secretary and the court bailiff to act as witnesses.

Desiree suddenly felt as shy as her daughter and wished there were a skirt she could retreat behind. Carter reached out to draw her to his side, but she quickly scooted around him so the unblemished part of her face would be toward him while they said their vows. She wished she could have been beautiful for him. It would have made all this so much easier. But she wouldn’t have needed a husband if things had been different.

“Are we all ready?” the judge asked.

“Just a minute.” Carter searched the room for a moment. “There they are.” He crossed to a bookshelf and picked up a small bouquet of flowers. “When I arrived your secretary offered to put these in here for me.”

Desiree stared at the bouquet of wildflowers garnished with beautiful white silk ribbons that Carter was holding out to her. A flush skated across her cheekbones. The thoughtfulness of his gesture made her feel more like a bride. It made everything seem more real. Her heart thumped a mile a minute, and she put a hand up as though to slow it down.

She stared at Carter, seeing wariness—not warmth—in his blue eyes as she reached out to take the flowers. “Thank you, Carter.”

His features relaxed and the wariness fled, replaced by what looked suspiciously like relief. Unfortunately, Carter’s trek for the flowers had taken him across the room, and when he returned he ended up on her right side, the side with the scar. She hid her dismay, but lowered her chin so her hair fell across her face.

“Now are we ready?” the judge asked impatiently.

Desiree nodded slightly. She felt Carter’s fingertips on her chin. He tipped her face upward until he was looking her in the eye.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes,” she croaked.

“Keep your chin up,” he murmured. He turned to the judge and said, “We’re ready.”

Desiree appreciated Carter’s encouraging words but had no idea how to tell him so. She heard very little of what the judge said. She was too conscious of the man standing beside her. She could smell a masculine cologne and feel the heat of him along her right side. On her other side, she was aware of Nicole’s death grip on her hand.

“The ring?” the judge asked.

“Here.” Carter produced a simple gold band, which he slipped on Desiree’s left hand.

He turned back to the judge, who was about to continue the ceremony when Desiree said, “I have a ring for you, too.”

She saw the surprise on Carter’s face, but he didn’t object. She fumbled in the pocket of her skirt until she found the gold band she had so painstakingly selected. She was aware of the calluses on Carter’s palm and fingertips as she held his hand to slip on the ring. Desiree dared a glance at Carter’s face when she saw how well it fit.

He smiled at her, and she felt her heart skip a beat. She turned to face the judge, feeling confused and flustered.

Carter took her hand in his and waited for the judge to continue. It wasn’t long before he said, “I now pronounce you man and wife.”

To Desiree, the wedding ceremony was over too quickly, and it didn’t feel “finished.” She realized the judge hadn’t suggested that Carter kiss his bride. She waited, every muscle tensed, wondering if he would act on his own. A second ticked past, another, and another.

Which was when Nicole said, “Are you going to kiss Mommy now?”

“Nicole!”

Desiree’s face reddened with embarrassment. She couldn’t bear to look at Carter, afraid of what she would see.

The sound of a masculine chuckle was followed by the feel of Carter’s hand on her unblemished cheek. She closed her eyes, flinching when she felt his moist breath against her face. She heard him make a sound of displeasure in his throat and felt his hesitation.

Desiree forced herself to stand still, waiting for the touch of his lips against hers, but her body stiffened, rejecting before it came, this sign of masculine possession.

Soft. So soft. And gentle.

Desiree’s eyes flickered open, and she stared wide-eyed at the man who had just become her husband. Her breathing was erratic, and her heart was bumping madly. It hadn’t been a painful kiss. Quite the contrary. Her lips had…tingled. She raised her hand toward her mouth in wonder.

Carter was staring at her, the expression on his face inscrutable. She had no idea what he was thinking.

She had married a stranger.

It was a terrifying thought, and Desiree felt the panic welling up inside her. Carter must have sensed her feelings, because he quickly thanked the judge, shook Carmichael’s hand, watched as the witnesses signed the marriage certificate, in which Desiree had once again given up her maiden name of Parrish, and hustled her and Nicole out of the courthouse.

“I’ve made reservations for lunch at Benham’s,” Carter said, naming one of the fanciest restaurants in Casper.

Desiree put a hand to her queasy stomach. The last thing she wanted right now was food.

“I’m starving,” Nicole piped up.

“I guess that’s settled,” Carter said. “Let’s go eat.”

“Not in a restaurant,” Desiree protested. “I put a roast in the oven before I left the ranch. Please, let’s go home.”

“Home,” Carter said. It had a wonderful sound. “All right, then. Home. I’ll follow you in my pickup.”

Desiree welcomed the brief respite before they sat down to their first meal as husband and wife. Once in the truck, Nicole focused her attention on Desiree’s wedding bouquet, which left Desiree free to mentally compare this wedding with her first one.

She had been only eighteen years old and desperately in love with Burley Kelton. Burley had come to work as a cowhand for her father, and she had fallen hard for his broad shoulders and his rakish smile. After a whirlwind romance they had married in the First Presbyterian Church. She had worn her mother’s antique-lace wedding gown and carried a pungent bouquet of gardenias.

Desiree had been a total innocent on her wedding night, naive and frightened, but so in love with Burley that she would have done anything he asked.

Only Burley hadn’t asked for anything. He had taken what he wanted. Brutally. Horribly. Painfully. She didn’t dare cry out for fear her parents would hear her in their room down the hall from her bedroom. So she bore her wedding night stoically. She survived, to endure even worse in the next weeks and months of her marriage.

They lived with her parents, and Burley continued working for her father. She kept up a front, refusing to let her parents know how bad things were. Then her mom and dad were killed in a freak one-car accident, and she was left alone with Burley. It was a ghastly end to what she now realized were girlish dreams of romance.

Burley told her the pain she felt when he exercised his husbandly rights was her fault. He had to work hard to find any pleasure in her, because she was frigid. He should have married a woman who had more experience, one who knew how to satisfy a man.

Even though Burley found her wanting in bed, he was insanely jealous if she so much as said hello to another man. When she suggested they might be better off apart, he became enraged and said he had taken his vows “Till death do us part!” and that he had meant them.

It had almost come to that.

Desiree stole a glance at Carter in the rearview mirror. At least she would be spared her wifely duties for a time. Maybe if she explained that he would find no joy in her, Carter might even change his mind about wanting to take her to bed.

Carter was having similar, but contrary, thoughts. In fact, he was wondering how long it would be before his wife became his wife—in the biblical sense. He had stood next to her during the short ceremony and felt her heat, smelled the soft floral fragrance that clung to her hair and clothes and felt himself forcing back the feelings of want and need that rose within him.

He had seen her flinch when he tried to kiss her after the ceremony. It wasn’t the first time she had recoiled from him, either. She must have been badly treated by some man, somewhere along the line. Her father? Her husband? So what were the chances she was going to let him get anywhere near her, anytime soon? Not good, he admitted. She had said they would have to wait until they knew each other better, and she had no idea when that would be. He was willing to be patient—for a while. He couldn’t help comparing this wedding with his first one.

Carter hadn’t been able to keep his hands off Jeanine, and she had been equally enamored of him. They had anticipated their wedding night by about a year, and knowing what he could expect in bed had kept him aroused through most of the ceremony and reception. He had been so much in love with Jeanine that it had been difficult to force the vows past his constricted throat. Knowing the reason they were marrying had been an extra bonus as far as he was concerned.

Looking back, he realized that the tears in Jeanine’s eyes hadn’t been tears of joy, as she had professed. His trembling bride had been trembling for entirely different reasons than the ones he had supposed. Now he knew why she had been so miserable. If only…

Carter swore under his breath. Wishing wouldn’t change the past. He was crazy to be reliving that nightmare, especially when he had just promised himself he wouldn’t look back anymore. He would do better to look forward to the future with Desiree Parrish—no, now Desiree Prescott.

Carter quashed the awful thought that arose like a many-headed hydra: This woman can’t betray me. Her scarred face will keep her from tempting another man. It wasn’t the first time he had thought it, and he couldn’t truly say whether the scar on her face had been a consideration when he agreed to marry her. But he was ashamed for what he was thinking and grateful that Desiree couldn’t read his mind. She deserved better from the man who had just become her husband.

Carter pulled his truck up beside Desiree’s pickup in back of the house. His wife and new daughter were already inside the house before he could catch up to them. If he hadn’t known better, he would have said Desiree was fleeing from him. If she was, she was wasting her time. Now that they were married, there was no place for her to run.

Desiree hurried to make herself busy before Carter came inside. She turned up the furnace and slipped off her coat and Nicole’s and sent her daughter upstairs to play.

Then she returned to the kitchen and waited beside the stove, her arms crossed over her chest. Carter didn’t bother to knock before he opened the door and stepped inside. He didn’t bother to close the door, either, just headed straight for her, his stride determined. A moment later he had swept her off her feet and into his arms.

Desiree grabbed hold of his neck, afraid for a moment he might drop her. His arms tightened around her, and she knew there was no danger of that. He headed right back outside.

“What are you doing?” she asked breathlessly, her eyes wide with trepidation.

“There’s a tradition that hasn’t been observed.”

“What’s that?”

Once he was outside, he paused long enough to glare down at her. Through clenched teeth he said, “Carrying the bride over the threshold.” He turned around and marched right back into the kitchen.

Desiree was too astonished to protest. She stared up at his rigid jaw and realized again how little they knew of each other. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know you felt so strongly about it, or I would have waited. But we never discussed—”

“There are a lot of things we haven’t discussed. I guess it’s going to take a while for us to adjust to each other.”

He was still holding her in his arms. Desiree became increasingly uncomfortable, as another kind of tension began to grow between them. She recognized the signs on Carter’s face. The drooping eyelids, the nostrils flared for the scent of her, the jumping pulse at his throat. She began to struggle for freedom.

“Let me go. Let me down. Now!”

His hold tightened. “What the hell’s the matter with you?”

“Let me go!” she shrieked.

A moment later she was on her feet. She retreated from him several paces, until her back was against the wall. She stared at him, eyes wide, blood racing. “We agreed we would wait!” she accused.

“I only wanted a kiss,” he said.

She shook her head. “No kissing, no touching, nothing until we know each other,” she insisted.

Desiree watched a muscle jerk in his jaw. She knew he could force her. Burley had. She reached behind her surreptitiously with one hand, searching for a weapon on the counter. But there was nothing close by.

“What did he do to you?” Carter asked in a quiet voice.

“What makes you think—”

“Every time I move too fast you flinch like a horse that’s been whipped. You’re trembling like a beaten animal right now. And the look in your eyes…I’ve seen men facing a nest of rattlers who’ve looked less terrified. It doesn’t take a scientist to figure out you’ve been mistreated. Do you want to tell me about it?”

Desiree couldn’t get an answer past the lump in her throat. She lowered her eyes to avoid his searching gaze. She couldn’t help jerking when he reached out a hand to her.

Carter swore under his breath. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he repeated through clenched teeth.

Desiree forced herself to remain still as he reached out again for her chin and tipped it up so they were staring into each other’s eyes.

“You’re my wife. We’ll be spending the rest of our lives together. I’m willing to wait as long as it takes for you to accept me in your bed.”

“No kissing, no—”

He shook his head. “There’ll be kissing, and hugging and touching. Even friends do that much.”

“But—”

He cut her off by putting his lips against hers. Desiree fought the panic, reminding herself that his first kiss had been gentle. This one was no less so, just the barest touch of lips, but she felt a shock clear to her toes. It wasn’t a bad feeling. Oh, no, it wasn’t bad at all.

Luckily, his lips left hers just at the moment when she felt herself ready to struggle in earnest. When she opened her eyes, she saw that he hadn’t retreated very far.

“Desiree?”

“Carter, I…I’m scared,” she admitted in a whisper.

He drew her slowly into his arms. As his strength enfolded her she forced herself to relax. It wasn’t easy. Burley had sometimes begun gently, only to lose control later.

Carter’s arms remained loose around her. In a few minutes she realized she was no longer trembling, that she was almost relaxed in his embrace.

“This is nice,” he murmured in her ear. “You feel good against me.”

Desiree stiffened. She knew he felt her withdrawal when he said, “It’s all right, Desiree. It’s just a hug, nothing more. Relax, sweetheart.”

He cajoled her much as he might a reluctant mare, and she found herself responding to his warm baritone voice. She laid her head against his chest and tentatively put her hands at his trim waist.

Just as she made those gestures of concession, he stepped back from her. She raised her eyes to his in confusion. She hadn’t expected him to stop. But she was glad he had.

“How soon will lunch be ready?” he asked.

Desiree turned quickly to the oven. She had completely forgotten about the roast beef during the past tension-filled minutes. “It should be done shortly.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

Desiree raised startled eyes to study Carter’s face. “You’re willing to help in the kitchen?”

“Why not?”

Burley never had. Burley had said the kitchen was woman’s work. “You could set the table if you’d like.”

Carter took the initiative and started hunting through cabinets for what he wanted. “Best way to find out where everything is,” he explained with a cheeky grin.

“You’re probably right.” Desiree found herself smiling back, even though it was unsettling to see a stranger going through everything as though he had the right.

He has the right. He’s your husband.

As she peeled potatoes and put vegetables in a pot on the stove, Desiree realized she had been extraordinarily lucky in her second choice of husband. Carter wasn’t like Burley. He could control his passions. It was too bad he was getting such a bad bargain. She couldn’t be the wife he obviously wanted and needed. She was too bruised in spirit to respond as he wished.

Desiree had planned this dinner at home because she had feared that conversation between them would be stilted, and it would be embarrassing to sit across from each other in a restaurant in total silence. However, when the three of them sat down together, things didn’t turn out at all as she had expected. Carter, bless him, wasn’t the least bit taciturn. He even condescended to answer several of Nicole’s questions. However, when Nicole finished eating and approached Carter, Desiree realized there were limits to his tolerance.

“Can I sit on your lap?” Nicole asked.

“You’re a big girl,” Carter replied.

“Not too big,” Nicole said, sidling up next to him. “My friend Shirley sits in her daddy’s lap.”

“I’m not your—”

Desiree cut him off before he could deny any relationship to her daughter. “Carter has a full stomach right now. Why don’t you go upstairs to your room and play,” she said.

Nicole gave Carter a look from beneath lowered lashes. “Is your stomach really full?” she demanded suspiciously.

Desiree saw the war Carter waged, the way his hands fisted. “Nicole! Go play.”

Nicole’s lower lip stuck out, but she knew better than to argue when her mother used that tone of voice.

The little girl had already turned to leave when Carter grabbed her under the arms and hefted her into his lap. “I suppose you can sit here for a minute,” he said grudgingly.

But Desiree caught the brief, awful look of anguish in Carter’s eyes as his arms closed around the little girl.

Nicole settled back against Carter’s chest and chattered happily, oblivious to the undercurrents.

Over the next five minutes, Carter’s face looked more and more strained, and his jaw tightened. Desiree realized there was something very wrong.

“That’s enough for now, Nicole,” Desiree said. “It’s time for you to go upstairs and choose a book for me to read before your nap.”

Carter sighed as though relieved of a great burden as he lifted Nicole from his lap and set her on her feet.

Nicole ran upstairs without a backward glance, leaving them alone at the table. Desiree waited for Carter to explain himself. To her amazement, he pretended as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

“If I’d known how good you can cook, I’d have jumped at that first proposal,” he said.

Desiree didn’t press the issue. And she chose to accept the compliment, rather than be put off by the fact Carter hadn’t wanted to marry her at first. “Thank you.”

“Maybe you could give me a tour of the ranch this afternoon,” Carter suggested.

“Nicole usually takes a nap after lunch. I should be up there getting her settled right now. You’re welcome to take a look on your own.”

Carter saw the relief in Desiree’s eyes at the thought they wouldn’t have to spend the rest of the day together. He could see she was going to use the child as an excuse to keep them apart. It was funny, because he had planned to use ranch business with her as a way to avoid the child.

“I can wait until Nicole wakes up. We’ll go then,” he said.

“She’ll have to come with us.”

As a chaperon, Carter thought wryly. But the little girl obviously couldn’t be left alone, and there was no one else around to take care of her. One or the other of them would always have to be with her. Which led him to ask, “How on earth have you managed to do the chores around the ranch and take care of Nicole at the same time?”

“Sometimes it isn’t easy,” Desiree admitted.

Carter thought that was probably the understatement of the century.

“All right,” he said. “While Nicole’s napping you can show me around the house.”

She gave him a disconcerted look. Was he looking for an opportunity to get her alone in the bedroom? “There isn’t much to see.”

“You can show me what needs fixing. I couldn’t help noticing that the faucet drips in the kitchen, and the newel post on the stairs wobbles.”

Two pink spots of color appeared on her cheeks. She was thinking of bed, while he was thinking of dripping faucets! It would be funny if it weren’t so humiliating. “I didn’t marry you to get a handyman.”

He grinned. “But isn’t it lucky that I am one? Come on, Desiree, every house needs a few repairs now and then.”

Her lips flattened grimly. “I’m afraid this one needs more than that.”

“Oh?”

She recited a long list of problems with the house that ended, “And I’m not sure the furnace will make it through the winter.”

He stared at her, stunned by the enormity of what she had been coping with on her own. No wonder she had wanted—needed—a husband. Strange as it seemed, he felt better knowing how much work the ranch needed. It was a rational explanation for why she had married him, even if she had done it in a damned havy cavy way.

He could have used his money and had repairmen do everything that needed to be done in a matter of weeks. But he didn’t want her to know yet about his wealth. He wanted a chance to be needed—loved?—for himself alone. Later would be soon enough to reveal the rest.

“I guess I’ll start on those repairs while Nicole is napping,” he conceded finally.

“I usually do something quiet, so I won’t disturb her.”

“And repairing the newel post is hardly quiet.” He said it as a statement, not a question.

She shook her head. He was pleased to see just the hint of a smile tease the corners of her mouth. The scar didn’t pucker so badly with the smaller smile. He forced his eyes away from the mark on her face.

“All right,” he said with a gusty sigh. “You can show me the ranch books this afternoon. If you don’t think that would be too noisy a proposition?”

Desiree giggled. She didn’t know where the sound had come from, and it certainly wasn’t anything she could remember doing recently. But the look of surrender to the inevitable on Carter’s face struck her as funny.

“Just let me get Nicole settled, and I’ll be back to do the dishes.”

“I’ll do them,” Carter volunteered.

“That’s not necessary, I—”

“The sooner the dishes are done, the sooner we can get to those ranch books.”

What Desiree heard in his voice, what she saw in his eyes was The sooner we can be alone.

“Maybe you’d rather take that tour of the ranch,” she suggested.

Carter shook his head no. “I’d rather wait and go with you.”

Desiree stood rooted where she was, pierced by a look in his blue eyes that held a wealth of promises. She wanted to warn him that she couldn’t fulfill those promises. But something kept her silent. The longer it took him to figure out the truth about her sexually, the better. She dreaded the disgust she was sure would be her lot when he realized what a failure she was in bed.

Desiree took one last look over her shoulder at Carter before she left the kitchen. He was already clearing the table. Her grandmother’s silver-rimmed china looked fragile in his big hands, but he moved with easy grace between the table and sink. The thought of Nicole waiting anxiously for her upstairs pulled her from the mesmerizing sight of her husband doing the dishes on their wedding day.

To Nicole’s delight, Desiree read two stories. The first because she always did, the second because she was putting off the moment when she would have to rejoin Carter in the parlor, which also served as the ranch office.

When Nicole’s eyelids drifted shut and her tiny rosebud mouth fell slack, Desiree realized the inevitable could be avoided no longer.

She rose and squared her shoulders like an aristocrat headed for the guillotine. It was time to begin the process of becoming a wife and partner to the stranger downstairs.

Desiree felt her legs trembling and told herself she was being foolish. There was no need to fear Carter. He was not like Burley.

Not yet. But what happens when you disappoint him in bed?

That won’t be for a while yet. Carter promised—

You saw the look in his eyes when he carried you over the threshold. Was that the look of a patient man?

So he desires me. That isn’t a bad thing. Especially since we’re married.

Are you ready to submit to him? To trust him with the secrets of your body?

Desiree shuddered. Not yet. Not yet. She ignored her trembling limbs and headed downstairs to join her husband. She would just have to be firm with Carter.

Sex would have to wait.

CHAPTER FOUR

DESIREE WALKED DOWN THE stairs, knees trembling—and found Carter sound asleep on the couch. An awkward feeling of tenderness washed over her as she stared at the sleeping man. Apparently he had needed a nap as much as Nicole. She sat down across from him in the comfortable arm chair that faced the fireplace in the parlor and searched his features.

The rugged planes of his face were less fearsome in repose. The blue shadows under his eyes suggested that he had put in some long hours the week before they were married. What had he been doing? The fact that she had no idea pointed to how much a stranger he was to her. A boyish lock of chestnut hair fell across his forehead, and she had to resist the urge to reach over and brush it back into place.

Desiree breathed a sigh of relief that her fears about confronting Carter hadn’t been realized. At least, not yet. She knew she ought to get up and go do some chores, but the fire made the room seem so cozy that she settled deeper into the overstuffed chair. The house was quiet, with only the sound of the furnace doing its level best to keep up with the cold. She scooched down in the chair, put her feet up on an equally overstuffed footstool, and let her eyelids droop closed.

Desiree wasn’t sure what woke her, but she had the distinct feeling she was being watched. It was a feeling she recognized, and one that caused her heart to pound so hard she could almost hear it. She took a deep breath and let it out, forcing herself to relax. Then she opened her eyes.

Carter was sitting on the couch, staring at her. At some point while she was asleep, he had changed his clothes and was now wearing jeans and a red and blue plaid shirt with his work boots.

She watched him through wary eyes without moving.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said.

She sat up carefully. “You didn’t.”

“If you say so.” He yawned and stretched. She was impressed again by the breadth of his chest, by the play of muscles in his shoulders and arms. He caught her looking at him and grinned. “I had hoped we’d spend some part of the day sleeping together, but I had something a little different in mind.”

Desiree tensed, waiting for him to make some move to close the distance between them. But he relaxed with one arm settled along the back of the couch and hung one booted ankle across the opposite knee.

“I don’t suppose we’ll have time now to look at the books before Nicole is awake.”

Desiree looked at her watch. “We’ve slept away the afternoon!”

Carter thrust all ten fingers through his hair, leaving it standing in all directions. “I guess I was more tired than I thought. It’s been a tough week.”

“Oh?” Desiree arched a questioning brow. “What kept you so busy?”

Carter cleared his throat. “Just some business I needed to clear up before the wedding. Nothing worth mentioning.”

He was lying. Desiree didn’t know why she was so sure about it, except that one moment he had been looking at her—well, not at her face, but in her direction—and the next, his gaze was focused intently on the leafy design sewn into his worn leather boots. She didn’t believe in keeping secrets. It spawned distrust. But considering the fact she hadn’t been totally honest with Carter, Desiree could hardly challenge him on the matter.

“What shall we do with the time until supper?” Carter asked.

Desiree was thinking in terms of chores that could be finished, when Carter suggested, “Why don’t you tell me a little bit about what you’ve been doing in the years since we last met?”

“I wouldn’t know where to start. Besides, what matters is the present and the future, not the past.”

Carter pursed his lips and muttered, “If only that were true.”

Desiree met Carter’s gaze. His eyes held the same despairing look she had seen when he held Nicole at the dinner table. What had happened, she wondered, that had caused him so much pain? “Are you all right?”

The vulnerability in his eyes was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by icy orbs that didn’t invite questioning. Desiree welcomed the sight of her daughter in the doorway. “Did you have a good nap, sweetheart?”

“Uh-huh. Are we going for a ride now?” Nicole bounced over to Carter and laid her hands on his thigh, as though she had known him forever.

Desiree held her breath waiting for his reaction. It came in the form of a puff of breath Carter expelled so softly it could barely be heard. He stared at the spot where Nicole’s tiny hands rested so confidently against him. He stood without touching her, and her hands of necessity fell away.

Nicole reached up to tug on the sleeve of his flannel shirt. “Can we go see Matilda first?”

“Who’s Matilda?” Carter asked.

“She’s my calf. She’s black.”

“Matilda’s mother didn’t survive the birth,” Desiree explained quietly. “I’ve been keeping the calf in the barn and feeding her by hand.” Desiree saw the look of incredulity on Carter’s face and hurried to explain, “I—we—can’t afford to lose a single head of stock.”

“I had no idea things were so bad,” Carter said.

“There’s no danger of losing the ranch,” she reassured him. “I’ve just been extra busy because my hired hand broke his leg and has been out of commission for nearly two months.”

For reasons Desiree didn’t want to explain to Carter, she hadn’t been able to bring herself to hire a stranger to work for her. Which made no sense at all, considering the fact she had married one.

Nicole grabbed Carter’s hand and began tugging him from the room. Desiree watched to see if he would free himself. He did, quickly shoving his hands in his back pockets. But he followed where Nicole led. She trailed the two of them from the parlor through the house to the kitchen, where they retrieved their coats, hats and gloves and headed out the kitchen door.

As usual in Wyoming, the wind was blowing. Desiree hurried to catch up to Nicole so she could pull her daughter’s parka hood up over her head. Before she reached Nicole, Carter did it for her.

Desiree found his behavior with Nicole confusing, to say the least. He clearly didn’t want anything to do with the little girl, but he stopped short of ignoring her. What had him so leery of children?

Desiree heard Nicole chattering and hurried to catch up. Carter had been doing fine tolerating the five-year-old, but she saw no reason to test his patience.

Thanks to the body heat of the animals inside, the barn felt almost warm in comparison with the frigid outdoors. Nicole let go of Carter’s hand and raced to a stall halfway down the barn. She unlatched it and stepped inside. The tiny Black Angus calf made a bleating sound of welcome and hurried up to her.

“Matilda is hungry, Mommy,” Nicole said.

“I’ll fix her something right now.” Desiree went to the refrigerator, where she kept the milk for the calf. She poured some out into a nursing bottle and set it in a pot of water on a hot plate nearby to warm. When she returned to the stall she found Carter down on one knee beside the calf.

“Matilda’s mommy is dead,” Nicole explained. “So Mommy and I have to take care of her.”

“It looks like you’re doing a fine job,” Carter conceded gruffly.

The calf bawled piteously, and Nicole circled the calf’s neck with her arms to calm it. “Mommy’s getting your bottle, Matilda. Moooommy!” she yelled. “Matilda’s starving!”

Desiree hustled back to the hot plate, unplugged it and retrieved the bottle. A moment later she dropped onto her knees beside the calf. Nicole took the heavy bottle from her mother and held it while the calf sucked loudly and hungrily.

Desiree met Carter’s eyes over the calf’s head. There was a smile on his face that had made its way to his eyes.

“This is turning out to be a great honeymoon,” he said with a chuckle.

Desiree laughed. “I suppose it is a little unconventional.”

“That’s putting it mildly.”

There was a warmth in his eyes that said he would be happy to put the train back on the rails. Desiree was amazed to find herself relaxed in his presence. However, her feelings for Carter were anything but comfortable. Her fear of men hadn’t disappeared. Yet she was forced to admit that Carter evoked more than fear in her breast. She hadn’t expected to be physically attracted to him. She hadn’t expected to want to touch him and to want him to touch her. She hadn’t expected to regret her inability to respond to him—or any man—as a woman.

Her expression sobered.

“What’s wrong?” Carter asked.

She wondered how he could be so perceptive. “What makes you think anything’s wrong?”

He reached out a hand and smoothed the furrows on her brow. His callused fingertips slid across her unmarked cheek and along the line of her jaw.

Desiree edged away from his touch. Her heart had slipped up to lodge in her throat, making speech impossible.

“Matilda is done, Mommy,” Nicole said as she extended the empty bottle toward her mother.

Desiree lurched to her feet. “That’s—” She cleared her throat and tried again. “That’s good, darling.” She took the bottle and Nicole’s hand and hurried out of the stall. She headed for the sink in the barn and rinsed out the bottle.

Carter had started after her, but when she turned around she realized he had stopped at the stall and was examining the hinges.

“This is hanging lopsided. Do you have a pair of pliers?”

Desiree would rather have headed right back to the house, but forced herself to respond naturally. “Sure. Let me get them.”

Desiree watched as Carter made a few adjustments to the stall door, tightening the bolts that held the frame in place.

“That ought to do it.”

Desiree thought of the months the door had been hanging like that, when neither she nor her hired hand, Sandy, had taken the time to fix it. In a matter of minutes Carter had resolved the problem.

“Thanks,” she said.

“No need to thank me. It was my pleasure.”

Desiree searched his face and saw the look of satisfaction there. He was telling the truth. He had enjoyed himself. “Fortunately for you there are lots of things that need fixing around here,” she said sardonically.

He headed down the aisle of the barn to return the pliers to the tool box. “I think that’s enough for today, though. After all, I am still on my honeymoon.”

“What’s a honeymoon?” Nicole asked.

Desiree saw the smirk that came and went on Carter’s face. She found the question embarrassing, especially with Carter listening to everything she was about to say. But she had made it a habit to answer any question Nicole asked as honestly as possible.

“It’s the time a husband and wife spend together getting to know each other when they’re first married,” Desiree explained.

“Like you and Mr. Prescott,” Nicole said.

Desiree brushed Nicole’s bangs out of her eyes. “Yes.” Desiree looked up and found Carter watching her, his eyes hooded with desire. A glance downward showed her he was hard and ready. A frisson of alarm skittered down her spine. She rose abruptly and took her daughter’s hand. “I’m going to start supper,” she said.

“I’ll be in shortly,” Carter replied in a raspy voice. “I see a few more things I can do out here, after all.”

The atmosphere at supper was strained. Not that she and Carter conversed much more or less than at lunchtime, but Nicole never stopped chattering. Carter never initiated contact with Nicole, but he didn’t rebuff her when she climbed into his lap after supper. If the threat of danger hadn’t been hanging over her, she might actually have let herself feel optimistic about the future.

She and Carter did the dishes together, while Nicole colored with crayons at the kitchen table. It was so much a picture of a natural, normal family that Desiree wanted to cry. Her feelings of guilt for marrying Carter without telling him the whole truth forced her to excuse herself and take Nicole up to bed early the night of her wedding.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” she said to Carter.

She didn’t know what to make of the look on his face—part desire, part regret, part something else she couldn’t identify—but fled upstairs as quickly as she could.

Once in bed, she couldn’t sleep. She heard Carter come upstairs, heard the shower, heard him brush his teeth, heard the toilet flush. His footsteps were soft in the hall, so she supposed he must be barefoot. She knew how cold the floor was, even with the worn runner, and wondered if his feet would end up as icy as Nicole’s always did. She hoped she wouldn’t be finding out too soon. As far as she was concerned, the longer it took Carter to end up in her bed, the better. Because he wasn’t going to be happy with what he discovered when he got there.

Then there was silence. Desiree heard the house creak as it settled. The wind howled and whistled and rattled her windowpanes. The furnace kicked on. She closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep.

Two sleepless hours later Desiree sat bolt upright, shoved the covers off and lowered her feet over the side of the bed, searching for her slippers in the glow from the tiny night-light that burned beside her bed.

“Damn!” she muttered. “Damn!”

She had spent two hours lying there pretending to sleep. Maybe a cup of hot chocolate would help. She opened the door to her bedroom and swore again. Apparently Carter had turned off the light she always left burning in the living room. It was her own fault, because she hadn’t told him to leave it on. But that meant she either had to brave the dark or turn on a light upstairs in order to see and take the risk of waking Carter.

Frankly, the darkness was less terrifying than the thought of facing a rudely awakened Carter when she was wearing a frayed silk nightgown, a chenille robe and tufted terry-cloth slippers. Desiree knew her naturally curly hair was a tumble of gnarled tresses worthy of a Medusa, and since she had washed off her makeup, her scar would be even more vivid.

She knew the spots on the stairs that would groan when stepped on. She had learned them as a child so she wouldn’t awaken her parents when she snuck down to shake her Christmas presents and try to determine what they were. She slid her hand down the smooth banister, walking quietly, carefully. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she turned on the tiny light that was usually always lit.

With the light, it was easy to make her way to the kitchen. The old refrigerator hummed as she opened it, and there was a slight clink as the bottles of ketchup and pickles on the door shifted. Even though she was careful, the copper-bottomed pot she planned to use to heat the milk clanked as she freed it from the stack in the cabinet beside the sink.

She was standing at the stove with her back to the kitchen door, when she heard footsteps in the hallway.

Someone was in the house!

Her heart galloped as she searched frantically for somewhere to hide, a place to escape. Then she realized Nicole was trapped upstairs. In order to get to her daughter she would have to confront whoever was in the house. She was halfway to the kitchen threshold, when she halted. Her hand gripped her robe and pulled it closed at the neck. She stared, wild-eyed, at the man in the doorway.

When she realized it was only Carter, bare-chested, barefoot, wearing a half-buttoned pair of frayed jeans that hung low on his hips, she almost sobbed with relief.

“Desiree? It’s the middle of the night. What are you doing down here? Are you all right?”

“I couldn’t sleep. I—”

He didn’t wait for her explanation, just crossed the distance between them and enfolded her in his arms.

Desiree stood rigid. She was aware of the heat of him, the male scent of him. She was appalled by the way her nipples peaked when they came in contact with his naked chest. She became certain that he must be able to feel her arousal, even through the layers of cloth that covered her, when she felt the hard ridge growing in his low-slung jeans.

“Desiree,” he murmured.

As his arms tightened around her, memories of the past rose up to choke her. And she panicked.

“No! Don’t touch me! Let me go!” Desiree struggled to be free of Carter’s constraining hold. She slapped at his face, beat at him with her fists, shoved and writhed to be free. But his hold, although gentle, was inexorable.

Desiree didn’t scream. She had learned not to scream. There was no one who would come to her rescue; she would have to save herself. She continued fighting until she finally realized through her panic that although he refused to release her, Carter wasn’t hurting her. At last, exhausted, she stood quivering in his arms, like a wild animal caught in a trap it realizes it cannot escape.

“There, now. That’s better,” Carter crooned. “Easy now. Everything’s gonna be all right now. You’re fine. You’re just fine.”

As Desiree recovered from her dazed state, she became aware that Carter was speaking in a low, husky voice. She was being held loosely in his arms, and his hands were rubbing her back as though she were a small child. She looked up and saw the beginning of a bruise on his chin and the bloody scratches on his face and froze.

“I hurt you,” she said.

“You’ve got a wicked right,” he agreed with a smile. He winced as the smile teased a small cut in his lip.

“I’m so sorry.”

He looked at her warily. “Would you like to explain what that commotion was all about?”

“No.”

His blue eyes narrowed. “No?”

“No.” For a moment she thought he wasn’t going to let her evade his question.

Then he sniffed and said, “Something’s burning.”

“My hot chocolate!” When she pulled away, he let her go. Desiree hurried to the stove, where the milk had burned black in the bottom of the pan. “Oh, no. Look at this mess!” She retrieved a pot holder and lifted the pot off the stove and settled it in the sink.

“You can make some more.”

“I don’t think I could sleep now if I drank a dozen cups of hot chocolate,” Desiree said in disgust.

“I heard a noise, and I came down to check it out,” Carter said in a crisp voice. “You’re the one who went crazy.”

“I didn’t—” Desiree cut herself off. Although she didn’t like the description, it fit her irrational behavior. She shoved a hand through her long brown hair and crossed the room to slump into one of the kitchen chairs. “Good Lord! I can’t imagine what you must think of me.”

Carter joined her at the table, turning a chair around and straddling it so he was facing her. “Do you think it would help to talk about it?”

Desiree wondered how much she should tell him. And how little he would settle for knowing. “My first marriage was a disappointment,” she admitted.

“I guessed something of the sort. How long were you married?”

“Two years. Then we divorced.”

“I was married for five years.”

“You were married?” Desiree didn’t know why she was so surprised. But she was. Suddenly she had a thought. Perhaps there was a good reason, after all, for Carter’s strange, distant behavior toward Nicole.

“Do you have children?”

“I have…had a five-year-old daughter. She died along with my wife in a car accident six years ago.”

“I’m so sorry.” No wonder he didn’t want to be around Nicole! Her daughter must be an awful reminder of his loss. Desiree knew there really was no comfort she could offer, except to share with him her own grievous loss. “My parents died the same way.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

A tense silence fell between them. Both wanted to ask more questions. But to ask questions was to suggest a willingness to answer them in return. And neither was ready to share with the other the secrets of their past.

It was Carter who finally broke the silence between them, his voice quiet, his tone as gentle as Desiree had ever heard it.

“If I’m going to get anything accomplished tomorrow I ought to get some sleep. But I don’t feel comfortable leaving you down here alone. Is there any chance you could sleep now?”

Quite honestly, Desiree thought she would spend the rest of the night staring at the ceiling. But she could see that Carter wasn’t going to go back to bed until she was settled. “I guess I am a little tired.”

“I’ll follow you upstairs,” he said.

Desiree rose and headed for the kitchen door. Before she had taken two steps, Carter blocked her way.

“I don’t know what to do to make you believe that I’d never hurt you,” he said.

“I…I believe you.”

Nevertheless, she flinched as he raised a hand to brush the hair away from her face.

His lips flattened. “Yeah. Sure.”

Desiree cringed at the sarcasm in his voice and fled up the stairs as fast as she could. Behind her she heard the steady barefoot tread of her husband. She hurried into her bedroom and shut the door behind her. She leaned back against the door and covered her face with her hands.

I hate you, Burley. I hate what you did to me. I hate the way you made me feel. And I hate the fact that I can never be a woman to the man I married today.

Hating didn’t help. Desiree had learned that lesson over the six long years since she had divorced Burley and gone on with her life. But she hadn’t been able to let go of the hate—or the fear.

Because she knew that when he got out of prison in two weeks, Burley would be coming back.

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