This Calder Sky (40 page)

“Fine.” He inclined his head in implied acceptance and stepped aside, inviting her into the house. Leaving the door open for Charley, Chase moved toward the den, listening to the tap-tapping of Maggie's heels on
the tiled floor as she followed him. He let her walk past him into the room while he closed the double doors to ensure their privacy. “There is hot coffee in the service on the coffee table.”

After her gaze had made a sweeping search of the room without finding Ty, Maggie turned back to confront Chase. “Where is my son?”

“He went with Nate this morning for his first glimpse of an actual roundup.” Chase poured two cups of coffee from the silver service. “Cream or sugar?”

“You know I was coming for him.” Irritation emanated from her like an electric force field, charging the air around her. Chase felt it without having to look at her.

“But I didn't know when,” he reminded her.

She half-pivoted, showing him her profile. There was a filled-out completeness to her body that reached out to him and stirred all his male desires. She had to know she was a picture for his hungry glance, arousing memories of when he'd seen more of those shapely legs than the black skirt slit at the knee revealed. He leaned back in the armchair, holding his cup.

“How soon will Ty be back?”

“Tonight.” He sipped his coffee and avoided meeting her accusing eyes.

“You did this deliberately. Why?” She looked at him, taking in the hard vitality that stamped his features. He had matured into a powerful figure of a man, character lines adding to, rather than detracting from, his looks. His mouth quirked in that hard, familiar way she remembered.

“To give us time to talk in private. Why else?”

“We have nothing to discuss,” she insisted coldly.

“Why didn't you tell me you were going to have my child?” Chase finally addressed the issue that they had been avoiding.

“Ty is my child. Your part in his conception was
purely incidental.” Her gaze was averted, her voice stiff and her head held high.

“Do you still hate me, Maggie?” He watched her glance come around to him.

“Hate is a passionate word. Despise or loathe would be more suitable.” That was one thing her marriage to Phillip had done for her. It had removed that poisonous seed of hate that could have twisted her. “My husband was a loving, compassionate man. He taught me to forget what I couldn't forgive.”

“The day I came to you—the last time I saw you, it was to tell you that I was truly sorry about your father. At the time, I wasn't aware that you knew the entire story.” He could see she was closing her mind to him, not wanting to recall anything. “I know you don't want to talk about it, but it must be said.”

“Why? My father is dead and buried.”

“And we have a son, so you will listen whether you want to or not,” Chase replied with no break in his voice. “I understand what my father's reasons were for his actions, but I had no knowledge of his intentions when we rode into the yard that day. Right up to the point where they put the rope around Angus' neck, I thought he planned only to scare him. When they—” His mouth closed for a moment before he continued. “I couldn't have saved him, Maggie. His neck was already broken.” He paused again. “Even after all this time, I can't say that my father was wrong. Your father's hatred of us was an obsession. You know that, Maggie, probably better than I do. In a sense, it was a mercy killing, because eventually your father would have destroyed not only himself, but you and Culley, too.”

“Are you finished?” She looked at him and Chase couldn't tell if she had understood anything he'd said.

“With that subject, yes.” He glanced at his watch. “Ruth will be putting lunch on the table.”

“I'm not hungry.”

Setting his cup down, he stood and walked over to take her arm in a firm grip. “Make an effort,” he said dryly. He could feel the high tension flowing from her, but she didn't resist the pressure of his guiding hand.

He didn't attempt to make conversation during lunch, but let a silence lay over the table, instead. At first, Maggie picked at the food on her plate until the quiet atmosphere aroused her appetite, reminding her she hadn't eaten in twenty-four hours. Relaxed and replete from the meal, she leaned back in her chair and sipped her coffee.

“Do you mind if I smoke?” Chase held a slim cigar halfway to his mouth.

“No, not at all. I enjoy the aroma of a good cigar,” she replied diffidently.

“It's a rare breed of woman who likes the smell of cigars.” He held a match to the tip and puffed on the tapered end.

“Phillip often smoked a cigar after dinner.” Unconsciously, her voice softened in fondness so she didn't understand the suddenly tightened line of his mouth.

“You do realize that Ty wants to stay here.”

Maggie was off guard, unprepared for this statement, so she reacted sharply. “It doesn't matter what he wants. He's coming home with me.”

There was something lazy and dangerous about the way he looked at her. “Do you honestly think I'm going to let you take him?”

The coffee cup was shoved onto the table as Maggie rose. It was the very thing she had been afraid of—that if Chase ever knew he had a son, he would try to take him from her. She crossed her arms, rubbing them, as if fighting off a chill.

“I'll fight you before I'll ever let you take him from me, Chase Calder,” she warned. “I'm not Maggie O'Rourke anymore, a nobody. I'm Elizabeth Gordon,
a wealthy widow whose husband had a lot of influential friends. We're on equal terms now, so you can't just brush me aside.”

“Is that what you want, Maggie? An ugly custody battle?” he challenged in a voice that held the ragged edge of anger. “Shall we fight over which of us would be the better parent? Which has more to offer him? Do you want to play a cruel game of tug-of-war with Ty?”

“No, it isn't what I want, but I have very little choice in the matter if you choose to make an issue of it!”

“I'm not making an issue of it. You are, by insisting that he return home with you,” Chase replied, once again in control.

“You don't think I'm going to let him stay?”

“He'll run away again if you take him back,” he warned her quite calmly. “Eventually you'll alienate him. In three more years, he'll be eighteen—free to live where he wants.”

“You surely don't think I'll give him up? Just walk away and let you have him?”

“No.”

“Then what do you want from me?”

“Marry me.”

Maggie stared at him in open-mouthed shock. “You can't be serious!” She finally managed to laugh at the idea.

“But I am. Don't worry.” His mouth quirked dryly. “I'm not nursing any grand passion for you. My interest in marrying you is solely based on Ty. First, it will legitimize his birth. I want no son of mine being called a bastard.”

“It's a little late for that,” Maggie suggested sarcastically.

“Since I wasn't informed of his existence—or even his expected existence—it is as timely as I can make it,” Chase countered. “Secondly, I want to ensure that Ty is
legally recognized as my heir. The Triple C is his birthright, and I intend to take whatever steps are necessary to see that he gets it.”

“You haven't given me one reason why I should agree to this preposterous marriage.” She was motionless and strained, still listening to the run of his voice, and its repressed feelings.

“You want your son, don't you? If we fight over him, Maggie, we'll both lose. And Ty will be the biggest loser of all, because he will be confused, torn between the two of us. By marrying me, you will maintain your role as his mother, live here in this house with him, and be an integral part of his life. In addition, you will be the mistress of this house and have all the attached importance of the name Calder.”

“I'm not interested in your name, or your bed.” She didn't argue about the part concerning Ty.

“I don't care whether or not you share my bed. That's entirely up to you. I would suggest that you live here without the benefit of marriage, except for the first two reasons I gave you, and … the gossip it would create. And you know people would talk if you came back to live in the area, let alone in this house. It wouldn't matter whether there was any truth to the stories; the talk would get back to Ty. I don't think you'd like that. The marriage is a formality. As soon as it has accomplished its objective of establishing Ty as my legitimate heir, you can file for a divorce. I only make one stipulation—Ty stays with me.”

“That isn't fair,” she said shortly.

“Sooner or later, you'd have to let him go, anyway … when he marries or goes off to see the world. You can stay here as long as you like—until he's eighteen, twenty-one—or you can divide your time between here and California. Or stay in California and come here to visit. It's immaterial to me. If you have a better solution, I'll gladly listen.”

His statement mocked her. There was no other solution that would meet his terms. And if his terms weren't met, he'd take her to court to get Ty. It didn't matter if she eventually won the case. He made that clear. She could well imagine Ty's reaction to this ranch. It would seem the fulfillment of any boy's romantic dreams about the West, complete with a hero figure as a father. She could never win against a boy's dreams, even if she could win legal custody.

“Ty has a natural affinity for the land, a feeling for this country,” Chase went on when she failed to fill the silence. “You couldn't repress it, although I know you tried. It's something he inherited from both of us, Maggie. I'm appealing to your maternal instinct. We are both interested in the same thing—Ty. At least our marriage can start out with that as a common ground.” He studied her quietly. “I don't expect you to give me an answer now. You'll want to talk to Ty. Tomorrow will be soon enough.”

Tomorrow? She was stung. “How generous of you to give me so much time!”

“Enough time has already been wasted.” He pushed out of his chair. “I'll take your luggage to your room.”

“I haven't said I'll stay,” Maggie reminded him.

He looked at her, running an unamused glance over her face. “You'll stay.”

“No.” She was not going to bend to his will. “If I must stay overnight, I prefer to do it in my brother's house.”

He frowned. “From what I've heard, a rat wouldn't sleep there. The place has deteriorated badly since you left. So has your brother.”

Maggie left the dining room and made directly for the front door, her steps quickening in haste. Chase made no attempt to stop her as she left the house and descended the steps to the rental car. Maggie made the
long drive to her brother's in a numbed state, not sure what she'd find when she got there.

But Chase's description hadn't prepared her for the sight of the dilapidated buildings that looked ready to collapse with the first strong wind. It didn't look as if there had been an attempt to repair anything in years. The house, her childhood home, looked abandoned.

It had never been much to begin with, but now windows were broken, half of the steps were gone, and the porch floor was rotted and partially caved in. Maggie gingerly picked her way to the door, standing open. The smell that greeted her was nauseatingly rotten. Covering her mouth, she took a cautious step inside. It was dark and dirty. She reached for the light switch by the door, but nothing happened. Cautiously, she moved sideways, feeling her way until she found a lamp. No light came on when she pulled its chain. There was no electricity in the house. Something scurried in the shadows and Maggie recoiled from the sound. This wasn't a home; it was a pest-hole. She shuddered and retreated to the door, sickened because her brother lived in this.

Outside, she inhaled the blessed freshness of the air and looked around. The high heels she wore made an investigation of the other buildings impractical unless she wanted to risk twisting an ankle on the rough ground. She called her brother's name, but didn't expect an answer. She waited in the car for over an hour before she finally gave up. She didn't want to be here when it got dark.

As she drove away, Maggie was appalled by the state of the house. First her mother, then she, had slaved to make it habitable, although neither her father nor brother had ever seemed to appreciate the effort. There were a few home truths to be faced about her family, but she wasn't prepared to face them head-on just yet.

Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed the cemetery and stopped the car to reverse it to the turn-in. Getting out of the car, Maggie climbed the grassy knoll and paused beside her mother's grave. No conscious thought crossed her mind. A cold wind finally stirred her awareness of the lengthening shadow cast by the headstone. It was late and Ty would be returning soon.

Moving stiffly, she began descending the narrow pathway between the graves. The ground was fairly smooth, but she watched where she was walking until an inner sense warned her that she was being watched. Maggie paused, lifting her gaze.

A pickup was parked beside her car. Chase was leaning against the bed of the truck, smoking a slim cigarillo. Something told her that he had been waiting there a long time. Pushing away from the truck, he crushed the smoke under his heel and came forward to meet her. Without saying a word, he turned to walk beside her, curving a large hand under her elbow to support and guide her. Numb and somewhat robotlike, Maggie let him escort her to the truck.

The touch of his hand on her hip when he helped her inside the cab burned away her apathy. She turned her head to look at him. He stood in the doorway, one hand on the truck frame and the other holding the door. His look was quietly assessing and astute.

“It hasn't been much of a homecoming for you, has it?” he murmured.