Linda Castle (25 page)

“Marisa O’Bannion, prepare yourself.” He shoved his body through the dense growth while he followed the sound. “We are about to have a reckoning.”

It took the better part of a half hour for Brooks to thread his way through the dense forest. He could’ve simply climbed back up and used the road, but the prickly side of his bruised ego wanted to come up on Marisa unannounced and unnoticed. He didn’t want her to have any warning that he had found her. He wanted to make damn sure she knew how much her taking off had worried and angered him, and he wasn’t going to take a chance that Clell might head him off before he did.

The back door to the cottage opened, sending a wash of fresh air over Marisa’s bare toes. She wiggled them, savoring the joy of being able to feel the change in temperature, rejoicing in the fact that she could do so small a thing as move her feet. For a moment she stopped mixing the biscuits, wondering why Clell had decided to come in the back door, but she shrugged and pushed the question out of her mind. She worked the wooden spoon in
the dough. The sound of determined strides on the floor behind her froze her hand. They were not Clell’s footfalls.

“Damn it all to hell, Missy, when will you face your problems and stop running?” Brooks’s voice roared over her.

She shoved the bowl away from her and turned the chair around as fast as she could manage. When she saw his expression she almost wished that she hadn’t been in such a hurry.

His eyes were the color of a storm-filled sky. Anger had hewn his jaw into stone. His lips nearly vanished in a thin line beneath his mustache.

“You weren’t supposed to find me.” It was a stupid thing to say under the circumstances, but it was the best she could do.

He narrowed his gaze to slits as he advanced upon her. “I want some answers, Miss O’Bannion. And neither one of us is leaving this room until I get them.”

Marisa drew in a sharp breath. It had been a long time since she’d seen this determined side of Brooks. Since she had been hurt he had bent over backward to be sweet and patient. The menacing man before her was anything but gentle.

Perhaps Clell had been right when he’d said this might push Brooks too far.

“Clell is outside,” she warned, as if that information might somehow take away the fury she saw etched into each line of Brooks’s face.

He stared at her—hard. “I’ll let him know I am here if it will relieve your mind.” He strode to the front door and flung it open. Clell was already there, alerted no doubt by the sound of Brooks’s voice.

“Hello, Brooks. I didn’t think it would take you long
to find her—I left a trail that a blind man could follow. But I’ll admit this is a bit quicker than I expected.”

“Missy and I have some things to get straight, Clell. I’d like for you to leave us alone for a while.”

Clell leaned inside the door and glanced at Marisa. “You ain’t goin’ to beat her or anything, are you?” he asked with a half grin tugging at his lips.

“Don’t tempt me,” Brooks snapped. He flashed Marisa a dark look, then turned back to Clell. “She probably deserves a good spanking, but I am not her father. That is Hugh’s domain, not mine. Rest easy, Clell. I only came to talk—this time.”

“I’ll be down by the creek if you need me,” Clell said soberly.

“Clell! You aren’t going to leave me with him, are you?” Marisa’s voice was shrill.

“I warned you that you were pushing him too far this time, gal. You did the dance, now you’ve got to pay the fiddler.”

Brooks closed the door and threw the bolt. He strode across the room until he was scowling down at Marisa. He folded his arms across his chest and nailed her with a cold gaze.

“Now, little lady, let’s get down to business.”

B
rooks took a deep breath and focused on Marisa’s face. Her eyes were wide and luminous. He was taking a big risk, he knew, but while he followed Marisa’s trail an idea had come into his head that he just couldn’t shake.

She had left because she had regained some feeling in her lower body. Just how much, he didn’t know, but when he examined her latest disappearance, held it up to the light and picked it apart, the only logical explanation was that she had recovered some movement. If not, she would have simply held him to their bargain and sent him away. With each step through the woods his anger had dwindled as the truth of that took root and grew.

He was still disappointed in her for walking out, but he was no longer simmering with indignation. She was, after all, just being Missy. If the improvement was not enough to meet her expectations, she would do her damnedest to keep it from him. He watched her eyes and prayed he was not wrong. What he was about to do was the riskiest thing he had ever done in his life.

“You know, Marisa, when you first got hurt I thought you were a coward.”

She flinched and gripped the arms of the invalid’s chair
so hard her knuckles whitened. Her reaction hurt his heart, but he had gone too far to turn back now. The insult caused her eyes to flash in anger, though she remained silent. Brooks wanted to pull her up out of the chair and shower her with kisses and professions of love, but he forced himself to maintain the distance of less than a yard.

“I guess I misjudged you.” He raised one brow and cocked his hip, trying to pretend he wasn’t stiff with worry. The look in her eyes clawed at him, but he had to do it, had to force her to reveal herself. “You are not a coward.”

Her brows rose and her lips parted as if she were going to say something. He hurried on, not daring to give himself a chance to change his mind.

“What you are, Marisa O’Bannion, is a lovely liar. You lied when you said you loved me. You lied when you agreed to marry me. And most of all you lied about our bargain.”

All the air seemed to rush from the cottage. Brooks could feel his own heartbeat as they stared at each other. Her eyes narrowed to slits. Her hands made the wood of her armrests creak. And then, as he had prayed she would, Marisa O’Bannion exploded like a volcano.

“Of all the mean-spirited, chuckle-headed things to say. I love you!” She clenched her teeth together. “Oh! If I had a whip I’d flay the hide off you, you miserable, low-down, no-good…” The insults trailed off as she glared at him, evidently trying to think of stronger epithets to hurl at him. “I wish you would just go to Violet, for you deserve each other. And when you see her tell her that I
tried
to do what was best. I
tried
to send you away—” Her voice broke off into sobs.

“So that was it.” Brooks came to her and knelt on one knee. “Violet came to see you.”

“Yes. She said—well, it doesn’t matter what she said.”

“Oh, I can imagine. Let me see, it probably went something like this. You would be a burden to me. I would grow to hate you. I deserve a
whole
woman…” His gaze slid to her feet. “Is that about it?”

Marisa was tapping one foot like an angry cat flicks its tail. “Yes! Is that what you wanted to hear? She was right. Oh, I hated her for saying it, but she was right.”

“No. She wasn’t, Marisa.” He touched her face. “I love you, and you could never be a burden.”

“Just go away, I can’t fight you anymore.”

“Then why are you?” He laughed, amused that she wasn’t aware of that tapping foot. He stood up, still laughing.

“Damn you! Double damn you! Oh, how I wish I could walk out of here.”

“Then why don’t you?”

She was operating on pure fury and adrenaline, not even thinking. And that was when Marisa put her two feet on the wood floor and pushed herself shakily erect.

Brooks swallowed hard. He stared at her face, still taut with fury and indignation. She supported herself on trembling legs. Then, as she became aware of what she had accomplished, the wrath melted from her lovely face. She looked down at her own feet.

Her lip began to tremble. “Brooks?” she whispered. “Do you see?” Her voice held all the wonder of life.

“Yes, honey.” He took a step toward her, in case she might fall, but he didn’t make a move to help her. “I see.”

“Remember when I told you that the day would never come when I couldn’t stand on my own two feet?” There were tears in her voice, but her eyes were dry and round with amazement.

“How could I forget? You were the prettiest thing I had ever seen. I think I fell in love with you on the day of Bellami’s wedding.”

Marisa glanced up. A shadow of doubt passed through her beautiful dark eyes. “But I was not even a lady. I didn’t know how to act or talk or anything. How could you have thought I was pretty?”

“Honey, don’t you understand yet?” Brooks shook his head in disbelief. “It has never been about the way you dress or talk. I love you. I love the woman inside that gorgeous skin of yours.” He took slow steps toward her. “I…love…you.”

“And I love you, Brooks James. I would never lie about that.”

She let go of the chair arms and stood there, wobbly as a newborn colt, but on her own two feet.

He wrapped her in his arms and kissed her. All the fear and anger that had been dammed up inside him flowed away. This was the woman he wanted, and she was worth all he had to go through to get her.

The guests came from miles around. Some rode horseback, others used buckboards and some had even fastened runners to the bottoms of their buggies so they could cut through the thick snow that had fallen.

Hugh had sent a couple of cowhands into the mountains to bring back a pine tree. They had eaten more cookies than had actually made it to the green fringe of branches, but the tree was decorated and the house smelled of crisp winter air and pine fronds.

Members of the groom’s family had arrived in Socorro by train more than a month ago. They rented a buggy and proceeded to the Circle B, to turn the O’Bannion ranch
house into a den of happy chaos as preparations were made for the wedding.

Out of concern for the bride’s health and her comfort, the decision to have the wedding at the ranch had been unanimous. And now, on Christmas Eve, as the hour drew near, a mixture of cowboy drawl, excited Spanish and cultured New York accents filled the adobe ranch.

“I am not sure we should have a veil,” Marisa said doubtfully as Ellen and Patricia fluffed and arranged the gossamer fabric over her shoulders. “I am afraid it might get in my way. What if I stumble?”

“Then Brooks will be there to catch you, my dear.”

“Aunt Patricia is correct, Marisa, you must have a veil.” Ellen flashed a quick smile and then turned her attention to the tiny silk roses arranged around the scalloped lace panel on the front of her wedding gown.

“I don’t want him to catch me. I want to be able to walk all on my own,” Marisa said stubbornly.

“Surely you are using your cane.” Patricia stopped fluffing and stepped around to look Marisa in the eye. “Everyone will understand—you should use the cane.”

“No. We had a bargain. I would stand on my own two feet. And in my mind that means walking down the aisle, even if it is a short one through the parlor, to stand before the preacher.”

There was no organ music. Marisa was glad of it, happy there was nothing, not even the notes of music to distract her as she concentrated on walking the short distance from the hall to the parlor.

She stared at the hem of her dress as her satin slipper appeared. Her grip on her bouquet was so tight she could feel the stems of holly cutting into her hands, but she was glad of something to hold on to.

Pick up the left foot. Concentrate. Bring it forward. Set it down.

Her progress was slow, deliberate and anything but graceful, but she felt a burst of pride and accomplishment as she slowly proceeded.

She drew in a breath and glanced up at Brooks. He was grinning from ear to ear.

“Take your time, baby, you are doing great.”

Marisa nodded and allowed herself a glance at the guests, some standing, some sitting. Ellen was weeping softly into the shoulder of Cyril. Shane and Logan had spruced themselves up for the occasion and several of the neighboring girls were casting calf-eyes at them. Marisa grinned at her brothers and they both winked in return.

Hugh kept clearing his throat and Clell seemed to be swiping at his eyes a lot as she painstakingly took each step. Trace and Bellami kept looking at each other and smiling. Everyone had come home for Christmas except Flynn.

Three more careful steps, and at last Marisa was standing beside Brooks. He reached out and took her hand, squeezing it tightly.

“Dearly beloved…” The ceremony proceeded quickly.

A moment after Marisa and Brooks said “I do” there was a knock on the door.

“Must be a last-minute guest,” Hugh said as he went to open it.

Then, covered with snow and carrying boxes and paper-wrapped bundles, Flynn walked in. He kicked snow from his boots as he set the parcels aside.

“Merry Christmas.” He strode forward and swept Marisa into a big bear hug. “I brought presents for everyone.” He carefully set Marisa back on her feet.

Brooks slipped his arm around Marisa’s waist and drew
her against his side protectively. “Mighty kind of you, brother-in-law, but I have the best Christmas gift of all. Marisa. It took me a long time to win her. For the rest of my life I want this woman standing at my side.” He beamed at Marisa.

A happy, rowdy territorial cheer filled the room as one and all agreed.

M
ansa woke with a pair of firm buttocks pressed against her groin. She wiggled her toes and felt the hard muscular calf flinch beneath her digits. She lifted her leg and put her thigh over his hip. The warmth of his body, nestled against her body gave her a sense of security.

In this moment between wake and sleep where the hard edges of reality were softened, Marisa thanked God once again for sending her a man like Brooks and for all the blessings of her regained health.

She shifted her hips and nudged her pelvis against her sleeping husband. A drowsy grunt was followed by five curious fingers reaching back to caress whatever part of her flesh they happened to find.

This was the time she loved the best. In this half twilight world she was neither Marisa nor Missy nor even Mrs. James. She was simply a well loved woman with a man who had the good sense to appreciate all the facets of her personality.

“Are you awake?” she whispered into the nape of his neck.

“I’m getting that way.” He drew her hand to his manhood,
hot, hard and pulsing. “What did you have in mind?”

“Do we have time?” She grasped him and smiled at his spasmodic jerk.

“We’ll make time,” he growled, and rolled over, coming to rest above her body. He positioned himself between her thighs and slid into her.

“Brooks, we have to get ready for Christmas dinner…” she said into his mouth as he kissed her.

When he finally released her mouth, she gasped as he drove himself deep. “Let’s not go.” His breath was warm on her face.

“We have to…Lupe will come up and drag us out of bed—besides your mother is certain that Clair and Rossmore will be coming in from Socorro.”

Then all thought, all ability to do anything but feel and respond to him, vanished as his lovemaking intensified. He quickened the rhythm of his thrusts and she clung to him, meeting him, joining him in a long ecstatic moan that wafted out over the snow-covered New Mexico prairie beyond.

* * * * *