Against the Rules Read online

  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 point. 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