She rode hard until the ranch house was out of sight and far behind her. She stopped in a clump of trees, tethered the animal, and looked around for something vehement to do. She found it in a lone tree that stood fifty feet away. Snatching up some stones, she aimed them at the tree and had the satisfaction of scoring a bull’s-eye with every one.
Then she sat down on a log and buried her face in her hands. What was she doing, throwing stones like a man? She ought to cry or something, like other females did. But everything about her was wrong. It always had been. She didn’t know who she was or where she belonged. She’d learned all the wrong skills, and she’d never felt so much like a foundling in her life.
Gabe was getting married, and so was Randall. For she hadn’t missed Honoria’s silver-tongued message. They were engaged, near as dammit. She was blue-blooded, and “suitable” to be an earl’s wife. A lot more suitable than a woman who didn’t know who her Ma and Pa were.
She couldn’t blame Randall for last night. Her desire had more than matched his, and she’d gone eagerly into his arms, meeting passion with passion, spurring him on, driven by an instinct beyond reason.
She’d had her moment when love was everything, and she would treasure it forever. But before her eyes rose the vision of the long years, filled with nothing because she was apart from Randall.
And apart from Gabe. And if only she knew which one of them she minded about most, it would be easier. Wouldn’t it?
No, nothing would ever make it easier.
Six
Randall reacted to Honoria’s news with a roar of delight, which affronted her even more. She told him so, at length.
“Hang on there,” he said when he could stem her tirade, “Gabe’s a grown man. He knows what suits him. If he’s found the right woman at last, that’s the best thing for him.”
“The right woman? No name, and no money. You should come home and stop it.”
“I’ll come home when I’m good ’n’ ready. As for trying to stop that crazy Gabe from doing what he’s set his heart on-forget it. I’m not ready to die.”
“Oh, really!” Honoria made a sound that would have been a snort if she hadn’t been an “Hon”. “You’ve always had a streak of foolishness, and he’s made it worse.”
“Either that or he’s brought out the best in me.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“No, I’m sure you don’t. You don’t really approve of me either, and you’ll disapprove of me even more as I am now.”
“Whatever do you mean by that?”
“Let’s say I’ve rediscovered my roots, and not a moment before time. All that society life you like so much, shopping till you drop, dressing to kill, spending hours mouthing polite nothings to people I never want to see again-it’s not for me. From now on I’m spending my days squelching through mud, breeding calves, smelling like a barnyard and loving every minute of it.”
“You sound exactly like that creature who answered the phone,” she said in disgust.
“Yes, I do, don’t I?” he said happily.
“Well, I don’t know what’s come over you since you’ve been there.”
“I’ll tell you what’s come over me, Honoria. I’ve become a cowboy. And you know what else? I enjoy being a cowboy. And I’m going to stay a cowboy when I get back to England.”
“I don’t like the sound of that at all,” she said in a tight voice.
“I didn’t think you would. ’Bye, Honoria. It’s lucky we found out in time.”
When Honoria had slammed the phone down, Randall promptly telephoned Gabe. Instinct made him pick the dower house number.
“You old son of a gun!” he greeted him. “So you got roped and branded at last.”
“How do you know?” Gabe yelled. “I was going to enjoy telling you myself.”
“Honoria’s just been on. She wants me to forbid the banns.”
Gabe roared with laughter. But abruptly he became serious again. “Does Claire know?”
“I don’t-” Randall remembered Claire’s distraught face as she handed him the phone and escaped. “I think so.”
“She used to have a kind of crush on me,” Gabe said awkwardly. “She’s probably forgotten about it now.”
“Yes,” Randall agreed, wishing he could be so sure.
“Can you make sure she’s all right?”
“Sure,” Randall said with more confidence than he felt.
He met North in the yard. “Did you see Claire?”
“She rode off.”
“How did she look?”
“Like she wanted to cry and couldn’t.”
Randall got the directions from North and rode out after Claire. He found her after awhile, still sitting on the tree stump, with a mulish look on her face. His heart ached for her, but he knew better than to offend her with outright sympathy.
“What the devil was that accent for?” he demanded, sitting beside her.
“She thought I was a hick,” Claire said grumpily. “So I gave her hick.” She remembered that Honoria was Randall’s as-good-as fiancee. “Was she offended?”
“No, she’s just mad at Gabe, and at me for not stopping him. As though anyone could stop Gabe doing what he wants.” He slipped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a hug. Claire let him draw her close until her head rested on his shoulder, and he ventured to drop a soft kiss on her bright hair.
Gabe was a fool, he reckoned, not to have snapped Claire up when he had the chance. Randall liked Freddie, but how dull she seemed beside Claire, who was fierce, thorny, sexy-and utterly adorable.
“That’s right,” she said with a sigh. “Nobody ever stopped Gabe doing anything. Nobody ever made him do anything, either.”
“Otherwise you’d have made him marry you ages ago,” he said. When she looked at him quickly he said, “I know, Claire. I’ve always known how you felt for Gabe.”
“Made a fool of myself, you mean,” she said gruffly.
“Will you stop putting yourself down? You’re a wonderful woman, and I think he’s crazy not to be in love with you.”
She shrugged. “Freddie Crossman’s got something I haven’t. What’s she like, Randall?”
He tried to remember. “Pretty, gentle…”
“Sweet and feminine?” Claire challenged.
“Well-yes-”
