Rawhide and Lace (22 page)

That was when she began to worry. Perhaps he'd decided that life was sweeter when he could be alone and not have to put up with a wife he didn't really want. Perhaps he felt that guilt and pity alone could not sustain a marriage. She began to brood over it, and once, right in the middle of a photographic session, tears stung her eyes at the thought of living without Ty. The photographer stopped shooting and sent out for coffee and a sweet roll, thinking she was hungry. She was-but not for food.

In the end, she stood it for a few weeks-until spring was just beginning to melt the snows and brighten the skies; until Ty's very indifference shook her from wounded pride to fury.

She took the first plane home one day, right after she'd finished a commercial; she looked and felt viciously angry. Enough, she told herself. She'd had enough of his practiced indifference. If he wanted a divorce, she'd give him one, but he was going to have to come right out and say he did. She wasn't going to be ignored to death. And even while she was thinking it, something inside her was dying. She loved him more every day. The thought of doing without him for the rest of her life was killing her.

It had all begun the wrong way, for all the wrong reasons. But she no longer blamed him for her troubles. In a way, she blamed herself. She needn't have believed Bruce's lies. She could have gone to Ty with them from the very beginning and avoided all of it. And she could have made him listen that day, instead of meekly accepting his bad temper-which had probably been nothing more than wounded pride, because he'd believed Bruce, too. If she'd made him listen, perhaps he'd have taken her in his arms and asked her to marry him, and they'd have had their baby....

She shook herself. That was over. She couldn't change it. So now she had to go on- With him or without him. But she knew that going on without him would be a kind of death-a life without pleasure or warmth or love. There could never be another man; she loved him too much.

There was no one to meet her at the airport, because no one knew she was coming back. She rented a car and made the long drive to Ravine without stopping. She went straight through town and out to Staghorn, where she pulled up in front of the house, glancing around. Well, the Lincoln was there. He could be out, of course; he had roundup in early spring. But she had a feeling he was somewhere nearby.

She got out of the car and looked from the house to the corral. A number of the men were gathered around the corral, calling enthusiastically to somebody on a horse.

With glittering green eyes, she walked down to them. She knew instinctively who it was on that unbroken horse. And sure enough, when she got there, she saw her tall, lean husband giving the animal a run for its money. He was wearing denims, wide leather chaps, and the old worn Stetson that looked near retirement age. His face was animated, full of challenge and male pride, and the animal was tiring. It leaped and bucked while the cowhands yelled encouragement to the tall, relentless rider. Finally, the weary horse gave up and trotted around the corral, panting and sweat-lathered.

Ty swung gracefully out of the saddle, patting the animal gently before he handed it over to one of the men to groom and water. Erin watched him with her hands in the pockets of her skirt; it had been all too long since she'd seen him, and her eyes devoured him hungrily. He was so much a man. A Texan.

He turned unexpectedly and saw her, and froze in place. Before he had time to say anything, she lifted her chin pugnaciously.

"Well?" she asked, glaring at him. "You might at least say hello, even if I'm not welcome. And while we're on the subject, thanks for all the cards and letters and phone calls; I sure enjoyed them!"

He climbed over the corral fence and dropped gracefully to his feet to approach her, while behind him the men stared and punched each other-they loved a good fight.

"Welcome home, Mrs. Wade," Ty said with faint mockery, but his eyes were running over her like tender hands. It had been a long time, and she was beautiful, and he wanted her until it was a raging fever. But she was different, too: eye-catching and expensive-looking in a pretty red-and-white outfit. The long white sweater overlapped a full red crinkle-cloth skirt that swirled around her calves when she walked, and she'd belted it with a macramé tie. Her hair was longer now, over her shoulders, softly waving, and her face was exquisitely made up. She was the perfect model. His eyes narrowed as he wondered how many men had looked at her and wanted her. Had she wanted any of them? He could only imagine how he'd compare with those city men. His face went hard thinking about it. He was going to lose her-so what the hell; he might as well help her leave, convince her that she didn't need to feel sorry for him anymore. The guilt was mostly gone. He had a few twinges now and then, but he could live with himself now. He didn't need her pity.

"Hello, yourself," Erin replied curtly. He sure didn't look like a man who couldn't sleep at night for missing her.

"Did you come back to get your gear?" he asked, pausing long enough to light a cigarette.

"Maybe I did." She straightened. "I can see how welcome I am."

"What did you expect, a brass band?" he asked. "I got along my whole life without anybody in the house. It's pretty pleasant, if you want to know."

"Well, New York isn't bad, either," she retorted, stung. "I'm having a glorious time! I work every day, in fact, and I'm much in demand for parties and such."

"Found somebody else, have you?" he asked with apparent indifference. "I hope he's rich. You'll be expensive to keep."

"As if I ever cost you a dime, Tyson Radley Wade!" she shot back, raising her voice.

"Radley?" Red Davis drawled from the corral fence.

Ty whirled, silver eyes blazing. "Stuff it, Davis!" he growled.

Red saluted him, but he shut up all the same.

"That's it, yell at the poor man," Erin said scathingly. "Nobody around here is allowed an opinion except you!"

"You don't have to start yelling out secrets, do you?" Ty asked, scowling.

"Oh, was your middle name a secret?" she asked innocently, and looked past him at the cowboys. "Well, it's not anymore."

"Why don't you go pack your damned bag?"

She stomped her foot. "Can't wait to get rid of me, can you? Why did you bother to marry me in the first place?"

"Because I didn't want Ward Jessup digging holes in my pasture looking for oil!" he said coldly. "That was it, that was all of it. That, and a little pity. You sure as hell were a basket case when I found you!"

"And now, thanks to you, I have a wonderful future in store!" she replied angrily. "I love living alone! I have the time of my life walking around stages while middle-aged hippopotamus women try to imagine themselves in dresses that would barely fit around one of their legs! I love being ogled by male designers and hurried by dressers and pestered to death by photographers and harassed by perfectionist directors on commercials! It's great coming home to an empty apartment and spending my whole weekend watching roller derbies and championship wrestling!"

The cowboys were trying not to laugh. Ty was gaping at her. He'd never seen her like this.

She clenched her small hands at her sides, her elfin face red, her eyes sparkling dangerously. "I hate you, you big ugly cowboy!" she raged at him. "I'm tired of waiting for the phone to ring and haunting the mailbox for letters that never come! They've offered me a week in Saint-Tropez to shoot a swimsuit commercial, and I'm taking it! The director is French and tall and handsome and sexy, and he wants me, and I'm going!"

"Like hell you're going!" he burst out, throwing down the cigarette with a violent flick of his wrist. "You're not traipsing off to the south of France with any damned Frenchman!"

"Why not?" she demanded, her voice high-pitched. "You don't want me! I'm just a burden to you, just a cripple you're carrying around on your conscience!"

"Some cripple," he murmured, studying her.

"I wish I had a wooden leg, I'd kick you with it, you arrogant cattleman!"

He smiled slowly.

"My, my, aren't we wound up, though?"

"'Wound up'?" She backed away a step, eyes narrowing. "Wound up! I'll show you wound up...."

She picked up the nearest object-an empty bucket sitting by the fence-and hurled it at him. He ducked, so she grabbed a bridle off the corral and threw that, following it with a piece of loose wood.

The cowboys were chuckling behind Ty. He glared at them as he dodged the wood.

"Ship me off to the city, will you?" She pushed back a strand of sweaty hair, looking around for another missile. "Throw me out on my ear, give me over to the mercy of strangers. A fine way to treat your own wife!"

"You never wanted to be my wife," he said. "You married me to get even with me!"

"Sure I did!" she cried, grasping a horse collar. "To get even with you for ignoring me all the time, for baiting me, for killing me with your indifference. You big, stupid man, I love you so much!" Her voice broke as she flung the collar. "I've loved you from the first day I saw you, and you've given me nothing but hell!"

He didn't duck. The horse collar was heavy and it caught him in the chest, but he didn't even flinch. His eyes were wide and unblinking as he gaped at her, disbelieving. Had he heard right?

"It was never Bruce I wanted!" she practically screamed at him. "It was you! You, with your homely face and your big ears and your big feet and your mean temper! I cared so much...and you didn't even like me! I tried so hard to make you care, but you hated me!"

He'd heard right. And at that realization, something inside him burst and bubbled up like a spring. She was still raging, something about hating him because he was dumber than a cactus plant, but he didn't even hear her-he just started to walk toward her like someone in a trance.

She loved him. Yes, it was in her eyes, in her face, in everything about her. She'd reached a peak now, her voice broken and wounded, and she was going to leave him and go be a famous model....

In mid-torrent, he bent and lifted her in his hard arms and put his mouth over hers. He wasn't rough. He couldn't have been rough with her-not now. But he wasn't that gentle, either, because it had been so long and his mouth was hungry for the sweet softness of hers.

She mumbled something for a few seconds before her mouth opened and her arms crept around his neck, and he tasted tears on her lips as she kissed him back.

The cowboys were grinning and chuckling, but neither of them heard. He turned, walking with her in his arms toward the house, opening his eyes only to keep from tripping as he went up the steps and through the front door.

"Senora!" Conchita laughed as she opened the study door for Ty. "Welcome home."

"Umm-hmm," Erin murmured under the crush of Ty's mouth, waving languorously as he walked through the door and kicked it shut behind him with one booted foot. He started walking again, then suddenly wheeled and locked the door.

She felt the sofa cradle her back and the weight of Ty's body settle completely over her. Her eyes opened a little as his mouth lifted just long enough for her to take a breath.

"Ty..." she whispered.

"Are you blind and deaf and dumb?" he asked, his voice deep and harsh. "Look." He held up the hand that was wearing the ring she'd given him. "Does that tell you anything, little shrew, or do you want the words? I'll give them to you, but once I start saying them, I may not be able to stop."

She touched his mouth, feeling its rough warmth. "I wouldn't mind," she whispered, her eyes loving, exquisitely tender.

His hands cupped her face. "I love you, Erin," he said fiercely, looking intently into her eyes. "I loved you the day you left here, and I was hurting until I thought I'd die of it. I didn't realize it...and I listened to my ego instead of my heart and ran you away. Oh, God, I've loved you so much, and not ever believed that you could love me back. I've been cruel, because I was so damned afraid of losing you...!"