Angel In The Rain (Western Historical Romance) (35 page)

Narrow, slanted shafts of weak light filtered between the heavy velvet drapes hanging at the windows. A smoke-like haze and an air of the forbidden pervaded the room. Before one of the floor to ceiling bookcases, a man sat cross-legged on the floor. Thick Turkish carpet muted the clap of the ponderous texts he stacked next to him.

Angel’s breath ran shallow, with the anticipation of seeing him again—with the dread that he still didn’t need her as she needed him.

“Rane?”

His hands stilled, clutching one gilt-edged volume, and she knew he’d heard her. She stared at his motionless back, at the dark sweep of hair brushing the lower edge of his collar, at broad shoulders that looked capable of bearing any burden. Except hers.

He turned his head and looked at her. She met his disturbing eyes, mesmerized as always by the intensity he projected with just the power of his gaze. An unexpected quiver slid down her spine.

She ventured another step inside the room. “What are you doing here?”

He surged to his feet and moved into the path of wan light coming through the window. “Rearranging the library.”

Obviously. To find him sitting in the midst of a pile of books was the last thing she’d expected. And he had sidestepped her question.

Up close, he looked as dangerous and unpredictable as a starving lobo. The way he watched her... Unease simmered just beneath his calm façade. Did having her in the same room make him uncomfortable?

“Incredible as it may seem, when I was a boy, I read many of the books on these shelves.”

She threw a quick glance at the impressive collection of literary works behind him. No wonder he was so well spoken. He’d probably read everything from Chaucer and Shakespeare to “The Cottage Physician” and “DaVinci’s Anatomy.”

“Don’t look so surprised,” he said. “I’ve forgotten most of it.”

“Who taught you to read?”

“One of Lundy’s hands was an ex-schoolteacher. I guess he thought it only fitting to give the boss’s little bastard an education.”

She flinched at the emphasis he put on the word “bastard.”

“Did Horace know?”

“No. He never would have allowed his precious books into my hands. My mother slipped them in and out of here without his knowledge.”

Why was he telling her this now?

They were both behaving as though nothing at all had happened. As though she’d never sworn her love to him. As though he’d never turned his back on her and walked away.

She swallowed. “I don’t know what I’m doing here.”

He moved to stand behind the desk, and a shadow crossed the upper half of his face. Still, the furrow of his dark brows was evident in the dim light. “Don’t you?” he asked. “I know why I came back.”

He gripped the backrest of the supple leather chair tucked into the kneehole behind the desk. A memory flashed through her mind. Horace reclining in the chair with his head propped in the same spot Rane’s hands now occupied. Suddenly, she knew why she was there. Despite her denial to Carmella, she wanted to tell him about the baby. That’s why she had come.

“That night...” She faltered, barely able to force out the words. “You told me you wanted no part of the Hacienda.”

“You think I lied.”

He shoved the chair farther beneath the desk and stepped around the end of it. Toward her. “I meant what I said that night. I was here for only one reason. Justice.”

“And I don’t suppose revenge had anything to do with it?”

“Perhaps,” he agreed.

A clench of his jaw signaled a swift change. His voice rose an emphatic notch. “Do you think justice was achieved here that night?”

“Horace confessed—”

“He had nothing left to lose. My mother is still dead and buried across the river. Not me.” He flung out his hand to indicate their surroundings. “Not any of this. No power this side of Heaven can help her now.”

He dropped his hand and pulled in a long breath, visibly striving for the calm that had momentarily eluded him.

“No one can change the past, Rane,” she said, “but I’m sure your mother would be happy to know you’re finally where you belong.”

His chuckle held no warmth. “You think I belong here?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“By right of your birth.”

“Don’t you mean the accident of my birth?” Bitterness edged his words.

She thought of the tiny life growing inside her womb. Like father, like son... Would her child be doomed to a life of tragedy because of the accident of its birth?

He turned from her, moved to stand before a shrouded window and raked aside the drapes. Staring out, he shoved his hands inside his trouser pockets and shifted to a hipshot stance. Outside, there was nothing but barren yard. The stone wall surrounding the compound cut off the view at all angles.

“What would you say if I tell you, I’ve decided to try my hand at ranching?” he asked.

Several emotions warred within her. She was glad he would finally stop roaming from place to place, and yet, she couldn’t hold back an overwhelming rush of disappointment. She knew now. The ranch
was
the reason he had returned.

“You’re asking my opinion?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I think it’s wonderful. I have no doubt you can do anything you turn your hand to.”

“It won’t be easy,” he said. “It will take years to pay off the debt my dear old
papá
accumulated on this place.”

“But, won’t it be worth the effort?” she asked.

He pulled his hands from his pockets and turned to face her. “Yes, I think it will. In fact, I’m betting on it.”

The longer he talked, the more cold, dead ashes formed around Angel’s heart. She could almost taste them, bitter and burning in her throat. In running to him, she’d made a fool of herself. Again.

He walked closer and crossed his arms tight across his chest, as if he couldn’t find anything useful to do with his hands.

“I’m hanging up my gun,” he said. “You were right. I’ve always lived right on the edge of getting myself killed. Never had much reason to care before.”

She blinked, trying to will back the prickly sensation that threatened to put tears in her eyes. “I’m glad,” she said. “Glad you found a reason.”

His disturbing gaze caught hers and held, probing too deep for comfort, touching her soul as only he could, as no one else ever had. Reaching out, he cupped her face between his hands with gentleness and then stepped into the space separating them. She could only stare at him, her self-possession too tenuous, his nearness too devastating.

He stared into her eyes, searching. Always searching, as though he still sought the answer to some yet unsolved puzzle, and she might have the answer locked deep within.

“My reason is you, Angel.” A swallow worked his throat. “The night I left, I meant never to come back. I tried to stay away, but I couldn’t. You had already become my life.”

She frowned into his eyes, certain she mistook his meaning. “My God, Rane. What are you saying?”

The barest hitch of a smile tugged one side of his lips. “I’m trying to tell you, I love you. With every breath, every waking moment. I am nothing without you.”

Through a sheen of tears, she saw his head lower. He kissed her as he never had before. With gentle worship, with tenderness that robbed her of breath and will.

She sighed his name against his mouth, an amen to a prayer.

He lifted his head and pulled her against him, brushing kisses over forehead and hair.

She melted into him and wrapped her arms around his lean, solid waist, absorbing his heat, the familiar woodsy spice scent of his skin. She closed her eyes, content just to let him hold her, to rely on his strength at last. He loved her. In that moment, she forgave him. For deserting her, for breaking her heart so many times she’d begun to think it could never again be whole.

His hot breath fanned the stray hairs at her temple. “There is much to be done,” he said. “It might take some time. I will get the house in order, gather a herd. But this house, the land will give me something to offer when I speak to your father.”

“I would have gone with you anyway, you know. Without all this.” She leaned her head back and looked into his eyes. “So, you intend to do the honorable thing and ask for my hand?”

“Of course,” he said, as if it should have been obvious.

“You’re much braver than I thought.” She spoke the words in jest, but the reality of facing her father filled her with an all too familiar dread.

“I know it won’t be easy,” he continued, “but eventually even he will accept what he cannot change.”

He planned for the future, but time was a luxury that was quickly slipping away from her. She had to tell him. About the baby. About Will’s scheme to marry her and claim his child. A nagging doubt held her tongue.

Even if Rane laid down his gun, how long would it last? How long before some wannabe gunslinger, looking to make a fast reputation, challenged him?

She had another precious life to consider now, someone whose needs were more important than his, or her own. Was she willing to risk it, to try and raise a child with a man who might end up dead in the middle of a dusty street on any given day? She couldn’t lose him. Not again. Thoughts of her mother flitted through her mind. She’d never known her. How could she wish that same legacy onto her own child, of possibly never knowing his or her father?

She pulled back and ran her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, holding him. “Listen to me, Rane. I love you.” She pressed a brief kiss to his mouth.

His smile filled her with such warmth her heart ached for what she knew she must say to him.

“But, I’m afraid. Do you really expect to just lay down your gun and walk away? I don’t want to lose you. I couldn’t stand it if I lose you again.”

He stroked her cheeks and pressed his forehead to hers. “You’re not going to lose me,
querida
.”

“You don’t know that. If someone challenges you...”

“I’ll be careful,” he promised. “After a time, no one will remember me or my reputation.”

“Then promise me,” she said. “Promise you won’t pick up your gun again, no matter how tempted you might be.”

He drew back, a slight frown dipping his brows. “You don’t trust me to keep my word?”

“Promise me,” she insisted. “I have my reasons.”

“All right, then. I swear it.”

His pledge didn’t banish all her misgivings, but she believed he would never willingly go back on his word. She gave him a tense smile and pulled away. Hugging her arms beneath her breasts, she paced to the far side of the room. She couldn’t look at him and summon her courage at the same time. “There’s something I have to tell you,” she said, wondering how he would react to her news.

“What’s the hell’s goin’ on in here?”

Blood roared through Angel’s ears. She turned quickly. Will Keegan stood in the open doorway, and he looked furious.

Rane started around the end of the desk. “You’re trespassing, Keegan.”

Will threw him a withering glare. “And you’d do well to stay out of this, Mantorres. I doubt Roy Clayton will appreciate knowing his daughter’s down here without a chaperone. That could get mighty ugly, if you take my meanin’.”

Angel stiffened her spine and stepped forward, effectively putting herself between the two angry men. “What are you doing here, Will? Following me again?”

“The old man’s lookin’ for you.”

“Fine. Go tell him you found me. I’ll be along in a minute.”

“I’m not leavin’ you here.”

“Still as high-handed as ever, I see,” Rane injected.

Will straightened to his full, intimidating height and glared down his nose. “I’ll deal with you later, Mantorres. Right now, I’m takin’ her home.”

Angel wasn’t fooled by the smile that curved Rane’s mouth. He turned and settled his backside against the desk, then crossed his arms over his chest. He looked relaxed, but fury shot from every tightly leashed muscle in his body.

He lifted his head and looked at her. “Angel?”

He was asking for her signal, how she wished him to proceed. What happened next would depend on her response.

“It’s all right,” she said. “I’ll go.”

“Do you want me to ride along and speak to your father?”

“No. Now wouldn’t be the best time. We can finish our discussion later.”

Trying to appear calm while her heart threatened to beat out of her chest, she started for the door, anxious to put some distance between the two men. Having Rane and Will in the same room was like tossing together fire and kerosene.

Angel stalked out of the house with Will nearly treading on her bootheels. Outside, she gave him no chance to speak. She mounted her horse and wheeled toward the gate, goading the animal into a quick run.

Beyond the wall, he caught up to her and lashed out. Catching one of her reins, he jerked her horse to a halt. The sudden stop nearly unseated her and sent her horse’s hind legs dancing sideways.