Salvation in the Rancher's Arms(39)

“Let me go!” She beat at his back and kicked her legs.

“Shh! You’ll wake the boy,” he whispered harshly, throwing open the door as thunder shook the earth, drowning out her curse. He headed straight for the cot pushed against the far wall. One minute his broad shoulder bounced against her belly and the next she was falling through the air, her rump landing on the feather mattress Robert had insisted upon when he left her bed for good.

She leaned back as he loomed over her, one hand planted on the wall next to her head. The lantern danced light and shadow across his hard features. She inhaled his scent, a heady mix of fresh rain and cold air.

“Stay put,” he repeated, holding a pointed finger under her nose. His expression possessed a hard edge. This was not a man accustomed to being defied.

“No.”

His mouth flattened into a grim line and he looked away, resting his forehead against his outstretched arm. “He said you were hard-headed.”

“Who said?”

His gaze swung back to her but he didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. Humiliation burned through her.

“What else did Robert say?”

Caleb said nothing.

“Tell me. I have a right to know!” She shoved at his wet sheepskin jacket but her small fist proved ineffective against the solid wall of muscle beneath.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said.

But it did matter.

The stress of the past week welled up inside of her and bubbled to the surface.

Hurt surged through her. One hand twisted into the wet hide of Caleb’s jacket, while the other pummeled his chest in anger and frustration. “That isn’t fair! I tried to be a good wife. I tried to understand Robert’s failings and help him be a better man, the man I thought I’d married. But did he care? No. He was too busy gambling and whoring!”

Caleb’s cold hand grabbed hers and held it tight. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said—”

She didn’t want to hear his platitudes. She had gone into the marriage determined to create a home filled with love and laughter. She’d failed miserably. Year after year she’d watched her silly, romantic dreams get stomped flat until there was nothing left. Robert hadn’t cared. He’d gotten what he’d wanted. Her land.

“What did Robert expect me to do? Stand around while we lost everything? This is the only home I’ve ever known. It’s all my family has. I had to save it. He wasn’t doing it. I had no choice. I had Brody and Ethan and I had...I had...”

She took a shuddering breath. She didn’t want to cry. She had made it this far without crying. She tried to swallow back the tears but it was too much. They lodged in her throat then tumbled out in a sob, wracking her body.



“Aw, hell.” Caleb eased himself onto the bed and pulled her onto his lap like a small child who’d had a nightmare. “Shh...don’t cry,” he whispered into her damp hair.

She shivered. Damn fool woman. What had she been thinking going out in this weather after him? He didn’t need her concern. He’d slept in the rain before. He’d survived. He was less sure he could survive the sobbing woman shaking in his arms. Nothing kicked a man in the guts harder than a crying woman. It shot past every last defense he had and brought out all the things he’d tried hard to bury.

Worst of all, he couldn’t escape how good it felt to cradle her in his arms, cold, wet clothes and all. He knew he had crossed into dangerous territory. She stirred something in him. Something he thought had died long ago. Something he worked hard at keeping dead.

“Shh...it’s okay.”

Her small body shook with a bitter sob. “It’s not okay. My land is gone and my family is going to be without a home.”

“I won’t let that happen.” The promise was out before he could catch it.

“We’re not your burden to bear. And we can’t keep pretending with you sleeping in the rain and me in here like I still have any claim to this place. Your rightful place is in my bedroom.”

He bit down and closed his eyes, trying his best to erase the enticing image of her laid out naked on crisp sheets, her hair curling down over bare breasts—

Her head shot up, disrupting the image, and he found himself staring down at tear-stained cheeks and shiny eyes dark as midnight. “I mean...that’s not what I meant. I mean, without me in it. Because it’s your bedroom now, not mine. I don’t mean that I would be in—”

He nodded and reached up, pulling her head back to his shoulder. The more she talked about it, the more vivid the vision became.

“I know what you meant.” He tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice. A man like him didn’t possess the kind of luck required to put a woman like Rachel Sutter in his bed.