Shannon came in with a pot of coffee and a cup and breakfast on a silver tray. Kristin stared at it blankly and arched a brow at her younger sister.
"Good morning, sleepyhead," Shannon told her.
"Breakfast? In bed?" The ranch was a place where they barely eked out their existence. Breakfast in bed was a luxury they never afforded themselves. "After I've slept all morning?"
"Delilah was going to wake you. Cole said that maybe things had been hard on you lately and that maybe you needed to sleep."
"Oh, Cole said that, did he?"
Shannon ignored the question. "I rode out to the north pasture with Cole and Pete, and everything's going fine for the day."
Kristin kissed her sister's cheek and plopped on the bed, wincing again. It even hurt a little to sit.
She felt her face flood with color again, and she lowered her head, trying to hide her blush behind her hair. She still didn't know if she hated him, or if her feeling had become something different, something softer.
A little flush of fever seemed to touch her. She was breathing too fast, and her heart was hammering. She couldn't forget the night. She couldn't forget how she had felt, and she didn't know whether to be amazed or grateful or awed — or ashamed. The future loomed before them. They had a deal. He had said he would stay. And he hadn't left her room, and she —
She couldn't help wondering what he intended for their personal future together. Did he mean to do it… again?
"My Lord, Kristin, but you're flushed!" Shannon said with alarm.
"I'm all right," Kristin said hastily. She sipped the coffee too quickly and burned her lip. She set the cup down. "This was really sweet. The breakfast."
"Oh," Shannon said nonchalantly, "this was Cole's idea, too. He seemed to think you might have a little trouble getting up this morning."
"Oh, he did, did he?" She bit so hard into a piece of bacon that her teeth snapped together. He was laughing at her again, it seemed, and he didn't even have the decency to do it to her face. She longed for the chance to give him a good hard slap just once.
She caught herself. He had warned her. They were playing by his rules. And there was only one thing she was gaining from it all. Safety. She had agreed to the rules. She had meant to seduce him, she had meant for it all to happen, she had wanted the deal. It was just that she wasn't at all sure who had seduced whom.
"Where is Cole now?" she asked Shannon. She was surprised to find that she had a ravenous appetite.
Shannon shrugged. "I'm not sure. But do you know what?" she asked excitedly.
"No. What?"
"He says he's going to stay around for a while. Isn't that wonderful, Kristin?"
Kristin swallowed and nodded. "Yes. It's wonderful."
"Samson says it's a miracle. He says God has looked down on us with mercy at long last."
The Lord certainly does work in mysterious ways," Kristin murmured dryly.
Shannon, who had seated herself at the foot of the bed, leaped up and hugged Kristin. "We're going to make it," she whispered. "We're really going to make it."
She had underestimated Shannon, Kristin realized. She had felt their father's death every bit as keenly as Kristin had.
And because she felt it so strongly, she had learned to hate, just as Kristin had.
"I've got to get back downstairs. Delilah is baking bread and making preserves and I promised to help."
Kristin nodded. "I'll be right down, too."
When her sister had left, Kristin washed hastily. She couldn't help remembering every place he had touched her, everything he had done to her. And then, naturally, she started trembling again, thinking about the feeling that had come over her. In the midst of carnage, a brief, stolen moment of ecstasy.
Shameful ecstasy.
Ecstasy.
She wondered if it had ever really been, if it could ever come again.
She dressed, trying desperately to quit thinking. If she didn't, she would walk around all day as red as a beet.
She dressed for work. There was some fencing down on the north side, and she had told Pete she'd come out and look at it. The stash of gold hidden in the hayloft was dwindling, but they could afford to repair the fencing. And if she could just hang on to her stock a while longer, she could command fair prices from any number of buyers in the spring. She had to remember that she was fighting for the land. Nothing else mattered.
In breeches and boots, Kristin started for the doorway. Then she remembered her bedding, and the telltale sheets.
Delilah usually did the beds. She kept the house with Shannon's help. Samson kept it from falling apart. Pete and Kristin ran the ranch. That was just the way things had worked out.
But she didn't want Delilah doing her bed. Not today.
He liked his women hungry. Women. Plural.
Kristin let loose with a furious oath and ripped the sheets from the bed. She jumped up and down on them a few times for good measure, then realized how ridiculous she was being and scooped them up. She carried them down with her to the stables, stuffing them into the huge trash bin. She would burn them later, with some of the empty feed bags.
She headed for the stable, determined to saddle Debutante and ride out. She paused in the doorway, aware that Cole was there, brushing down his black thoroughbred stallion. It was a beautiful animal, Kristin thought.
Very like the man who owned him.
She wasn't ready to see Cole Slater yet. She almost turned around, ready to change her plans for the day to avoid facing him. But he had sensed her there, and he turned, and there seemed to be nothing for her to do but stand there and meet his stare.
It was long, and it was pensive, and it gave no quarter. She would never accuse the man of being overly sensitive or overly polite. His gray eyes were sharp and curious, and she still thought he must be amused by her, because he was smiling slightly. There were times when she thought he hated her, but then he would stare at her in a way that warmed her and offered her a fleeting tenderness.
Very much like the way he made love…
She shouldn't have thought it. The color that had so alarmed her rose to fill her face, and she had to lower her eyes to still the blush. She prayed fervently that she could appear sophisticated for just this one encounter. But it was impossible to stand here now, fully clothed, and not remember what had gone on the night before. Things could never be the same again. She could never see life the same way again. She could never see him the same way again, for she knew the power of the form beneath the shirt and jeans, and he knew all that made up the woman she was.
"Sleep well?" he asked her after a moment.
There was something grating in the question, something mocking, and that helped. She squared her shoulders and tried to walk by him, heading for Debutante's stall. He caught her arm and swung her around. His eyes were serious now.
"Where do you think you're going?"
"Out to the north pasture. I have to see the fencing. I should have gone yesterday, but…" She paused, her voice fading away.
He shook his head impatiently. "I'll meet Pete."
"But it's my ranch!"
"And it's my life, Miss McCahy." He dropped her arm and put his hands, the currycomb in one, on his hips. "You're taking up my time. We made some ridiculous deal —"
"Ridiculous deal!" She was choked with rage. She was going to slap him this time. Right across the face.
She didn't make it. He caught her wrist. "I'm sorry, Kristin. I didn't mean it that way."
"I'm so terribly sorry if I disappointed you."
She'd thought his eyes would drop with shame. They didn't. Hers did. He was still smiling.
"You didn't disappoint me. You surpassed my wildest expectations. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to insult you. I meant that you really should be the hell out of here."
"You're not reneging?" she asked crisply.