door, will you?”
Nick reached into the cab and picked Ann up in his arms. The sooner he got her into bed, the sooner he could seek his own.
Frowning, he adjusted her slight weight in his arms as he crossed the yard. She was too light. Far too light. And far too disconcerting, he admitted as a faint whiff of the perfume she was wearing drifted into his lungs. His frown deepened as he felt his body harden in response. He wanted to tighten his hold and pull her closer. To press his lips to hers. To…
“The sheriff called while ya was gone. Said fer ya ta call him when ya got back. Says it’s important. Says a couple calves has gone missin’ from Hector Menendez’s ranch.”
Nick paused in the open door and forced himself to concentrate on what Snake was saying, instead of on how Ann felt. “Wolves?”
Snake spit tobacco juice over the edge of the porch and said, “Two legged kind, more like.”
Damn! Nick thought. Just what he needed on top of everything else. Cattle rustlers. “Thanks, Snake. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Snake didn’t bother to answer. He merely stomped off to his own trailer behind the stables, muttering audibly about the cupidity of women and the gullibility of men.
He wasn’t gullible, Nick reflected, mentally refuting Snake’s words as he climbed the narrow stairway to the second floor. Not anymore. Now he knew all the pitfalls waiting to entrap an unwary man in a relationship. And knowing them, he could avoid them, he assured himself. Ann would not find him the easy mark Mona had. This time he would be the one calling the shots, and he would be able to do it because he wasn’t blinded by love.
He carefully shouldered open the door to the bedroom where he’d decided to put Ann. Gently lowering her onto the narrow bed, he stared down at her sleep-flushed face. For a moment he was filled with a desire to carry her downstairs to his own bed. To assert his masculinity in the most basic of ways. But he ruthlessly squelched the urge. He’d already decided that his best hope for remaining undamaged by this marriage would be to maintain an emotional and physical distance from her. But what he hadn’t counted on when he’d made his plans was that Ann Lennon would be quite so tempting a physical package. Although, maybe her appeal would fade upon closer acquaintance, he encouraged himself as he pulled a blanket around her and then hastily retreated to the safety of his own room.
* * *
“Ann? Ann!”
The irritating sound nibbled at the edge of her consciousness, and Ann rolled over, wincing slightly at the unyielding hardness of the lumpy mattress.
“Ann!” The voice demanded with all the persistence of a dentist’s drill.
She burrowed beneath her thin pillow in a vain attempt to shut out the hectoring sound.
“Are you awake?” the deep voice sounded closer.
Ann forced open her eyes and stared blankly at the door. Its dark green paint had peeled away in places to reveal the dingy brown color beneath. She frowned, trying to place it and failed. Where was she? Her gaze swung around the barren room, which was dimly lit by the sunlight filtering in through the ripped shade partially covering the window.
“Ann, wake up!”
Nick! Ann jackknifed up as memory suddenly poured through her.
“I’m awake,” she yelled, not wanting Nick to come in and see her all rumpled from having spent the night in her clothes. To her dismay, Nick pushed open the door, although he didn’t come inside. Instead, he gestured toward the other side of the room.
“Those are the boxes you sent,” he said.
“Thank you.” Uncertainly, Ann stared at him. If anything, he looked even more intensely masculine in broad daylight than he had last night. Well-worn jeans lovingly molded his muscular thighs, and a long-sleeve, dark green cotton shirt covered his broad chest. Her eyes met his, and her breath caught at the seething emotion she could see there. Probably not excitement at seeing her, she thought ruefully. Far more likely, it was impatience.
She swallowed an enormous yawn and pushed her tumbled hair out of her face.
“What time is it?” Her voice was husky with sleep.
“Six o’clock. I let you sleep late because you seemed so tired last night.”
“Late!” she repeated incredulously. As far as she was concerned, the day started at seven. Any time before that was merely an unsubstantiated rumor.
“We normally get up at five-thirty. There’s a lot of chores to do on a working ranch.”
Ann opened her mouth to tell him what she thought of working ranches and then promptly closed it, reminding herself that she’d agreed to this. Just because she’d never gotten up in the middle of the night before, it didn’t mean that she couldn’t become accustomed to it in time. Of course, in time she’d die of old age and it wouldn’t matter, she thought gloomily.
“Farm wives fix their husbands’ breakfast,” Nick added with what Ann thought was an appalling smugness.
“Lovely,” she mumbled.
“Although, because this is your first day, I’ll fix breakfast while you get ready. The judge said he’d be at home all morning, so after I take care of the stock, we’ll drive into town and get married.”
Ann gulped as his news hit her with the force of a blow. They were going to get married today? This morning? Blind panic churned through her. Panic that she tried hard to quell, knowing that it was irrational. She’d come out here to marry him, so what was the point of waiting?
“Is that going to be a problem?” Nick’s voice hardened.
Ann stared up into his narrowed eyes, wondering what he wanted her to say. His tone of voice was almost…hostile. Could he want her to say no? Say she’d changed her mind and didn’t want to marry him after all? Or could he be afraid that she had changed her mind and he wouldn’t have anyone to help him with his daughter? She didn’t know him well enough to even hazard a reasonable guess. And that being so, she’d be wise to respond to what he was saying and not what she thought he might mean, she told herself.
Ann took a deep breath and, feeling as if she were taking an irrevocable step into the unknown, said, “No, it’s not a problem. I’m just not awake yet. If you could tell me where the bathroom is?”
“First door to the right at the foot of the stairs. Breakfast will be ready in ten minutes.” He abruptly turned and left.
Ann listened to the sound of his footsteps receding on the bare wooden steps before she flung back the covers and climbed out of bed. She gasped as the room’s icy air pounced on her unsuspecting body and began to freeze her top layer of skin.
If it was this cold in April, what was it like in January? she wondered uneasily. Briskly rubbing her hands over her arms, she looked around for a furnace register to warm herself. She didn’t find one. In fact, she didn’t find much of anything. The only furniture the small room contained was the narrow bed she’d slept on and a huge, battered mahogany chest of drawers that was so ugly it was almost avant-garde. Almost.
The single narrow window was covered with a flyspecked green blind that was ripped along the bottom, while a truly hideous pink cabbage-rose-print wallpaper desecrated the walls. From the look of the water stains beneath the window, the paper had probably been there since the Depression. But the decorating coup de grace, as far as Ann was concerned, was the oversize picture hanging above the bed. It depicted a soul writhing in torment in the fires of Hell.
It had probably been painted by a farm wife who had gotten up at five-thirty one too many times, Ann thought tartly. Whoever had decorated this room had obviously been heavily into self-denial, if not outright masochism.
Although…Ann frowned. Why hadn’t Nick’s first wife redecorated? Because she hadn’t slept here? For that matter, where had Nick slept? Certainly