by Linda Howard
It was a bad night. Cathryn never even bothered to put on the nightgown Lewis had brought her. Though she rented one of the cots that were available to people who stayed the night with the patients, she might as well have sat in the chair for all the sleep either she or Rule had that night. Between the discomfort of his leg and the nauseating headache he was suffering, Rule was restless, and it seemed that every time he managed to settle down and drift off to sleep, a nurse came in to wake him. By dawn his stated opinion of that practice had long since passed out of the realm of politeness and Cathryn would have been in a nervous fit if she hadn’t been so weary.
Perhaps it was the pain he was enduring that caused him to dream of Vietnam, but over and over again he would awake from light, fretful sleep with his hands clenched and sweat pouring from his body. Cathryn didn’t ask him any questions, merely soothed him with her presence, talking gently to him until he relaxed. She was exhausted, but she was by his side every time his eyes flared open, her love evident in every tender touch of her fingers. He might not have been able to put a name to it, but he responded to her touch, calming down whenever she was near. He was a sick man that night, and all the next day he ran a low fever. Though the nurses assured her that it wasn’t unusual, she hovered over him anyway, keeping an ice pack on his forehead and continually cooling his torso with a damp cloth.
He slept the entire night through the second night, which was fortunate, because Cathryn had collapsed onto the cot and didn’t stir all night long. It was doubtful that she would have heard him if he had called her.
On Tuesday morning she was both relieved and alarmed when the doctor released him to go home. They would be more comfortable at the ranch, but she wasn’t at all certain that Rule was well enough to do without constant medical supervision. The doctor assured her kindly that he was doing well, but gave her careful instructions to keep Rule quiet for at least the remainder of the week. He was to stay strictly in bed until his headache and dizziness were completely gone, as it would be too risky for him to attempt walking with crutches while his balance wasn’t what it should be.
The flight back to the ranch left him exhausted, and his face was alarmingly pale when, not without some difficulty, several of the ranch hands carried him upstairs and placed him on the bed. Despite their careful handling he was clutching his head in pain, and Lorna, who had met them with expressions of relief and anxiety warring on her face, left the room with tears in her eyes. The men filed out and left Cathryn to get him settled.
Gently she removed his shirt and jeans, the left leg of which had been cut off to enable him to get them on over the cast. After propping his leg on pillows and bracing it on either side with rolled-up blankets, she tucked the sheet around him. “Are you hungry?” she asked, worried that his appetite was still almost nonexistent. “Thirsty? Anything?”
He opened his eyes and looked around the room. Without answering her questions he muttered, “This isn’t my room.”
Cathryn had done a great deal of thinking about the situation at the house and had instructed Lorna to have Rule’s things moved into the front guest room. His own bedroom was at the back corner of the house, overlooking the stables, and Cathryn didn’t think he would be able to rest with all the activity in the yard. Not only that, the guest room was next to her own bedroom, making it more convenient for her if he called her; and it had a connecting bath, the only bedroom in the house with that luxury. Considering Rule’s relative immobility, the location of the bathroom was a major factor. She only hoped he would cooperate.
Calmly she said, “No, it’s the room next to mine. I wanted you close to me during the night. It also has a bathroom,” she added.
He considered that, his eyelashes drooping to shield his eyes. “All right,” he finally conceded. “I’m not hungry, but ask Lorna for some soup, or something like that. It’ll make her feel better.”
So he had noticed that Lorna was upset, despite his own condition. Cathryn didn’t question Lorna’s devotion to him. Who knew what secrets were hidden behind the cook’s stoic face? And she was glad that he cared for other people, because for too long she had thought him incapable of caring.
“Where’s Lew?” Rule was fretting. “I need to talk to him.”
Cathryn looked at him sternly. “Now you listen to me, Rule Jackson. You’re under strict orders to stay quiet, and if you give me any trouble I’ll have you loaded up and taken back to that hospital so fast that your head will spin even worse than it already is. No working, no worrying, no trying to get up by yourself. Agreed?”
He glared at her. “Damn it, I’ve got a sale coming up and—”
“And we’ll handle it,” she interrupted. “I’m not saying that you can’t talk to Lewis at all, but I’m going to make certain that you do a lot more resting than you do talking.”
He sighed. “You’re mighty big for your britches now that I’m as helpless as a turtle on its back,” he said with deceptive mildness. “But this cast won’t be on forever, and you’d better remember that.”
“You’re frightening me to death,” she teased, leaning down to kiss him swiftly on the mouth and straightening before his dulled reflexes could react. His sleepy dark eyes drifted down her form with a lazy threat; then his lashes refused to open again and just like that he dozed off.
Cathryn quietly raised the window to let in some fresh air, then tiptoed out and closed the door behind her.
Ricky was leaning against the wall outside the room, her slanted hazel eyes narrowed in fury. “You told Lewis not to take me to the hospital so I could see Rule, didn’t you?” she charged. “You didn’t want me to be with him. You wanted him all to yourself.”
Afraid that the woman’s angry voice would wake him, Cathryn grabbed Ricky’s arm roughly and pulled her away from the door. “Be quiet!” she whispered angrily. “He’s sleeping, and he needs all the rest he can get.”
“I’ll just bet he does!” Ricky sneered.
Cathryn had spent a horrible two days and her temper was frayed. She snapped. “Think what you like, but stay away from him. I’ve never meant anything as much as I mean that. I’m warning you, I’ll do whatever I have to do to keep you from upsetting him while he’s still so ill. This is my ranch, and if you want to stay here you’d better pay attention to what I’m saying!”
“Oh, God, you make me sick! Your ranch! Your house! You’ve always thought this stupid little ranch made you better than everyone else.”
Cathryn’s fist doubled. She was sick. Sick and tired of Ricky’s jealousy and pure nastiness, even though she understood them. Perhaps Ricky saw the last bit of control vanish from Cathryn’s expression, because she moved quickly away and went downstairs, leaving Cathryn standing in the hallway trying to control the rage that burned through her.
After several minutes she went down to the kitchen and passed along Rule’s request for soup, knowing from previous experience that his nap would be a short one, and wanting to have something ready for him to eat when he awoke. Lorna’s damp eyes lit up at the information that Rule wanted her to do something for him and she began rushing about the kitchen. Within half an hour the tray was prepared with a bowl brimming with the rich, thick vegetable soup that she made, and a glass of iced tea. As Cathryn carried the tray upstairs she reflected that if Rule were still asleep she could eat the soup herself, because suddenly she was starving.
But Rule stirred when she opened the door, moving restlessly on the bed. He tried to struggle into a sitting position and she hurriedly set the tray on the night table and rushed to help him, putting an arm behind his neck to provide support while she punched the pillows into position to brace him. Then she had to get his leg settled comfortably, a process that had him clenching his jaw before it was finished.
He ate the soup with more appetite than he had shown for anything in the hospital, but the bowl was still half-full when he pushed it away and said irritably, “It’s hot in here.”
Cathryn sighed, but he had a poin
t. The windows faced southwest, and the room took the full blast of the hot afternoon sun. It wasn’t so noticeable to someone who didn’t have to spend the entire day in the room, but already perspiration was glistening on his face and torso. Central heating and air-conditioning had never been installed in the old house, so the only solution she could think of was to buy a window unit. In the meantime she remembered that they had an electric fan and searched it out. At least that would keep the air moving until she could buy an air-conditioner.
She plugged the fan into the outlet and turned the switch on, directing the flow of air onto his body. He sighed and threw his right arm up to cover his eyes. “I remember one day in Saigon,” he murmured. “It was so ungodly hot that the air was almost syrupy. My boots were sticking to the pavement when I walked across the helicopter pad. That was hot, Cat—so miserably hot that if Nam wasn’t hell, it came in second. For years the feel of sweat crawling down my back was as bad as a snake crawling on me, because it reminded me of that day in Saigon.”
Cathryn stood as if she had been turned to stone, afraid to say anything. It was the first time he had shared any of his memories of the war, and she wasn’t certain if he was slowly becoming accustomed to talking about it or if he wasn’t quite rational. He resolved that question when he moved his arm and looked at her, his dark eyes steady. “Until one day in July, eight years ago,” he whispered. “It was hot that day, blistering hot, and when I saw you swimming naked in the river I envied you, and I thought about jumping in with you. Then I thought that some other man could have seen you as easily as I had, and I wanted to shake you until your teeth rattled. You know what happened,” he continued softly. “And while I was making love to you the sun was burning down on my back and sweat was running off me, but I didn’t think of Vietnam that day. All I could think of was the way you had turned so sweet and wild in my arms, lying under me and burning me with a different kind of heat. I never minded being hot and sweaty after that day, because all I had to do was look up at that Texas sun and I thought of making love with you.”
Cathryn swallowed, unable to speak or move. He held out his hand to her. “Come here.”
She found herself on her knees beside the bed, his hand clenched in her hair as he pulled her forward. He didn’t make the mistake of trying to meet her halfway; he forced her all the way to him, stretching her half across the bed. Their mouths met wildly and his tongue sent her a virile message that left her senses spinning. “I want you now,” he murmured into her mouth, taking her hand and sliding it down his body. Cathryn moaned as her fingers confirmed his need.
“We can’t,” she protested, pulling her lips free, though she mindlessly continued to caress him gently, her hand straying upward to stroke his lean hard belly. “You can’t. You shouldn’t be moving….”
“I won’t,” he promised, cajoling in a husky murmur. “I’ll be perfectly still.”
“Liar.” Her voice was vibrantly tender. “No, Rule. Not now.”
“You’re supposed to keep me satisfied.”
“That’s not what the doctor said,” she sputtered. “I’m supposed to keep you quiet.”
“I’ll be quiet—if you keep me satisfied.”
“Please be reasonable.”
“Horny men have never been reasonable.”
Despite herself she had to laugh, burying her face against the curly hair of his chest until she had her giggles under control. “You poor baby,” she crooned.
He smiled and abandoned his attempt to talk her into bed, though she doubted that she could have resisted his sensual pleas if he had persisted for much longer.
He drew his fingers through her hair, watching the dark red strands sift downward. “Are you thinking of leaving, now that I can’t do anything to stop you?” he asked, his manner deceptively casual.
Cathryn raised her head swiftly, pulling her hair as she did so. She winced and he dropped the strands that he still held. “Of course not!” she denied indignantly.
“You haven’t thought about it at all?”
“Not at all.” She smiled down at him and traced a finger around the tiny male nipple that she had found in the curls of hair. “I think I’ll stay around after all. I couldn’t possibly miss my chance to boss you around. I may never have another.”
“So you’re staying for revenge?” He was smiling, too, a crooked little smile that barely lifted the corners of his mouth, but for Rule that was something. Laughter didn’t come easily to him.
“I certainly am,” she assured him, teasing the little point of flesh into tautness. “I’m going to pay you back for every kiss and enjoy watching you squirm. I still owe you for that spanking you gave me, too. I may not be able to pay you back in kind, but I’m certain I’ll think of something.”
A shuddering breath lifted his chest. “I can hardly wait.”
“I know,” she said gleefully. “That’s my revenge. Making you wait…and wait…and wait.”
“You’ve made me wait for eight years. What do you do for an encore? Turn me into a monk?”
“You were far from that, Rule Jackson, so don’t try to tell me different! Wanda told me about your reputation in town. ‘Wild as a mink’ was the way she described you, and we both know what that means.”
“Gossiping women,” he grumbled.
Despite his better mood he was tiring rapidly, and when she moved to help him lie down he didn’t protest.
The air-conditioner was first on her list of things to get, but Lewis, having taken the time to fetch Rule home from the hospital, was far too busy now for her to ask him to fly back to San Antonio, which would probably be the nearest city where she could purchase a small air-conditioner that wouldn’t require additional electrical work on the house. That meant she would have to drive, a trip that took almost two hours one way. And the weather report called for more of the same: hot, hot and hot. Rule needed that air-conditioner.
But she was exhausted now, and the thought of that long drive was more than she could face. She would get up early in the morning and be at the appliance store in San Antonio when it opened. That way she could be back on the ranch before midday and would miss the worst of the heat.
After a long shower she checked in on Rule again and found him still asleep. That was the longest he had slept at any one stretch and she was reassured that he was mending. Gazing pensively at the white cast that covered his leg from knee to toes, she wished that it was gone and Rule was once more where he belonged, out on the range. As much as she relished the thought of having him at her mercy for at least a few days, it still hurt her to see him weak and helpless.
Taking advantage of the quiet, she stretched out across her own bed and instantly fell asleep, only to be awakened by a deep, irritable voice calling her name. She sat up and pushed her hair out of her face, glancing at the clock as she did so. She had slept for almost two hours. No wonder Rule was calling her! He must have been awake for some time, wondering if he had been abandoned.
Hurrying to his room, she found that that wasn’t the case at all. His flushed face and tousled hair testified that he had just woken up himself and had called for her in instant demand. After two days of having her constantly with him, he was used to having her at his beck and call.
“Where’ve you been?” he snapped fretfully.
“Asleep,” she said, and yawned. “What did you want?”
For a moment he lay there looking grumpy; then he said, “I’m thirsty.”
There was a pitcher of water and a glass on the table beside his bed, but Cathryn didn’t protest as she poured the water for him. The doctor had told her that Rule’s headaches would give him the very devil for several days, and that the least movement would be painful. She slipped her arm under his pillow to gently raise his head as she held the glass for him. He gulped the water. “It’s so damned hot in here,” he sighed when the glass was empty.
She had to agree with him on that point. “I’m driving into San Antone in the morning to buy a window
air-conditioner,” she said. “Stick it out for the rest of the day, and tomorrow you’ll be comfortable.”
“That’s a lot of unnecessary expense—” he began, frowning.
“It’s not unnecessary. You won’t regain your strength as fast if you lie here sweating yourself half to death every day.”
“I still don’t like—”
“It’s not up to you to like it,” she informed him. “I said I’m buying an air-conditioner, and that’s that.”
His dark eyes settled on her sternly. “Enjoy yourself, because when I’m up and around again, you’re in trouble.”
“I’m not afraid of you,” she laughed, though it was a little bit of a lie. He was so tough and hard and held such sensual power over her that she was, if not actually afraid of him, more than a little cautious.
After a long moment the expression in his eyes softened fractionally. “You still look like you’re dead on your feet. Instead of running back and forth, why don’t you sleep in here with me? We’d both probably sleep better.”
His suggestion was so provocative that she almost climbed in beside him right then, but she remembered his half-serious attempt at seduction only a few hours before and she reluctantly decided against such a move. “No way. You’d never get any rest if you had a woman in bed with you.”
“How about next week?” he murmured, stroking her bare arm with one finger.
Cathryn was torn between laughter and tears. Did he sense how drastically her feelings had changed? It was as if he knew that the only thing keeping her out of his bed was her concern for his injuries. He was acting as if everything were settled between them, as if there were no more doubts clouding her mind. Perhaps there weren’t. She hadn’t really had time to decide exactly what she would do in regard to his marriage proposal, but she knew that no matter what happened now she couldn’t run from him again. Maybe her decision was already made and she had only to face it. So many maybes…