Angel Creek Read online

  She put aside the book she’d been reading. It was dull, but better than looking at the walls. She went straight to her request. “I need some of my own clothes. Would you get them from the cabin, or send someone else for them?”

  He sat down in the chair and stretched his long legs out, crossing them at the ankle. “There’s plenty of time for that.”

  She gave him a long warning look. “I don’t intend to do anything more than sit in this room. I’m just sick of nightclothes. I can sit in regular clothes as well as I can sit in this.” She tugged at the nightgown’s long sleeve.

  “Why go to all of the effort to change clothes when you’re still spending so much time in bed?”

  “Are you going to get the clothes or not?”

  “No.”

  “Then get out and leave me alone,” she snapped.

  He threw back his head with a roar of laughter. Relief poured through him like sweet water, as delicious as when her fever had broken. These two weeks of withdrawn silence had been pure torment, because the frail woman lying so quietly in bed hadn’t been the Dee he knew. This was his Dee, tart and headstrong, and he was going to love every minute of the next few weeks, with her totally in his control.

  He got up and leaned over her, bracing his hands on either side of her hips. “You can’t make me,” he said. His eyes were alight with mirth.

  Those green eyes narrowed dangerously. “Not right now, no.”

  “Not ever. When I’ve cared to fight with you I’ve won every time. No matter how much you dislike it, I’m stronger than you. And this is my land; what I say goes. You’ll get your clothes only when I think you’re strong enough to need them.”

  “I won’t ever get that strong,” she said sweetly, “if I don’t eat.”

  He straightened with a scowl. She was herself again, all right. She was just contrary enough to refuse to eat, and her health was too precarious for that.

  “All right,” he growled. “I’ll get your damn clothes. But I want your word that you won’t try to go downstairs by yourself.”

  She gave him an impatient look. “I’ve already said I didn’t intend to leave this room. I’m not stupid. The only way I could get down the stairs would be if I fell down them.”

  “That’s exactly what worries me.”

  “Then you’re worrying for nothing.”

  He glared at her, aware that she hadn’t exactly promised anything, but equally aware that if he pushed her she would only get more obstinate, and they would end up in a battle of wills. If she showed good sense in what she tried to do, he’d let her set her own pace, and the only way to find out was to let her do it.

  “What kind of shape is the cabin in?” she asked.

  He wished she hadn’t asked until she was stronger, but there was no use in trying to evade the question. “All of the windows are broken, the back door is splintered, a lot of things inside were shattered or are full of holes.”

  Her lips tightened. “The bastards. Have you checked to make certain Bellamy didn’t run his cattle back in there?”

  “He hasn’t,” Lucas said with certainty. There wouldn’t be any point in it now, with Angel Creek dry, but Dee didn’t have to know that yet. He wasn’t going to tell her until he had to; he intended to use the next weeks to spoil her rotten and bind her to him.

  “Will you check on it for me?”

  The anxiety in her voice made him feel guilty. He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Of course.”

  He was so delighted that she was talking again that he was reluctant to leave her. He sat on the bed, talking and teasing, trying to make her eyes flash angrily again, until Betsy came in and gave him a shocked look. He sighed, chafing under the necessity of observing at least a semblance of propriety. He’d be glad when Dee was well enough to do without Betsy so he could send the girl home.

  Dee set herself to recovering her strength, carefully pushing herself more and more every day. Lucas brought her some of her own clothes the next day, and though they looked out of place in the luxury of the bedroom she felt relieved to be wearing something other than a nightgown. It made her feel she was truly on the road to recovery. She hadn’t lied to Lucas about her intentions; she kept to her room, slowly walking back and forth, forcing herself to stay up for longer periods each time. As she became more active her appetite returned, and her face no longer looked so pale and drawn.

  Lucas began to devote more time to keeping her entertained, knowing that boredom would drive her to test her limits faster than anything else. He brought a big selection of books upstairs for her, and at night he taught her how to play poker. To his delight she already knew how to play chess, no doubt one of the benefits of having a schoolteacher for a mother. Playing with her kept him alert. Her philosophy in chess was the same as it was in life: She was aggressive and determined. The trouble was, he could never predict which battles she would choose to fight or when she would simply use defensive strategies. They were so evenly matched that more often than not the games ended in a draw.

  She had been at the Double C for three weeks when she descended the stairs for the first time, to eat a real meal at a real table. Lucas kept his arm firmly around her and his attention focused on each step, ready to catch her if she should falter. She gave him a cool look that said she wouldn’t let herself be so weak and walked steadily to the table with her head held as arrogantly as any ancient queen’s.

  The occasion signaled that Betsy’s usefulness had come to an end, and he wasn’t sorry to see it. He suspected that she hadn’t been much use the past week anyway, that Dee had been riding roughshod over her. Little Betsy was helpless against Dee’s iron determination, and ridiculously worshipful. Every time she opened her mouth it was “yes, ma’am” until the two words ran together into one. If she decided to emulate her new heroine when she returned home, poor old Sid Acray would have the devil’s own time controlling his newly headstrong daughter.

  So Betsy was sent home the next morning, with Lucas’s sincere gratitude for her help and generous wages in her purse. She cried as she hugged Dee and left with tearful admonitions to “be careful!” wafting back to them.

  Lucas chuckled as he watched the buckboard disappear down the lane with Betsy still waving. Then he turned to take Dee’s arm and walk with her back into the house. “Well, sweetheart, you’re on your own today, so try not to get into any trouble. Orris is in the kitchen if you need any help, and I’ll be back this afternoon.”

  She sighed. “I have to admit I’ve been looking forward to the solitude. I’m not used to having someone hover over me twenty-four hours a day.”

  He looked down at her and smiled as he felt the familiar tug of desire in his groin. Tonight he was going to do something about it. She still looked so frail that a good puff of wind would knock her off her feet, but she was stronger than she looked. She was regaining her weight, and translucent color glowed in her cheeks and lips. He had searched through his mother’s old clothes and found a few light day dresses that were so plain they hadn’t had any particular fashion to date them; Betsy, who had proved able with a needle, had hemmed and tucked until the dresses fit Dee, who was wearing one of them today. The flimsy, pale yellow lawn cloth suited her, as did the way she had caught her heavy tresses high on the back of her head, baring the delicate nape of her neck. As soon as they were inside he bent and pressed his mouth to that innocently sensuous groove, and he felt the shiver that ran through her.

  Her clothes weren’t all he’d fetched from the cabin. The little sponges lay in a box in his bedroom.

  Dee felt his arms close around her and caught her breath in painful relief. She hadn’t realized how much she had missed being held, how alone she had felt. She had quickly become accustomed to his touch, to feeling his hard body warm against her, and the lack of physical contact had depressed her. He hadn’t even held her or kissed her during all the time she had been at his ranch except for passionless pecks on the forehead, and she hadn’t cared for those at al