Spirit Of The Wolf. Susan MalleryЧитать онлайн книгу.
looked at him. “I have embraced their ways and their traditions. In all that matters, I am only Cheyenne. You never saw that because you wanted me to be like you.”
“No. I simply wanted you.”
He hated the remembering. He knew exactly how she kissed. So tentative at first, then with a growing passion. He knew the feel of her lips on his, the taste of her, the small sounds she made when passion threatened to overwhelm her.
She sat across from him—where his wife had sat, and his mother before her. He had imagined Ruth in that chair so many times. Now that she was here, it was too late. He was old enough to know there were no second chances, and dreams about them were only for fools.
* * *
RUTH PUT the last of the dishes away in the cupboard. She could hear voices coming from Caleb’s study. The sound of his low voice followed by his son’s laughter. Their obvious love and affection made her feel out of place in the ranch house. She had no place here; Caleb had made it clear he didn’t want her help or her company. So why was she staying? Shouldn’t she simply leave in the morning? The new housekeeper would arrive soon. If Caleb and Zeke had survived this long on their own, what was a few more days?
She closed the cupboard door, then made her way to the kitchen table. She sat down and wrapped her hands around a mug of fresh coffee. Why was she surprised that Caleb wasn’t happy to see her? Had she secretly expected him to welcome her with open arms?
She searched her heart looking for truth and found only confusion. Perhaps she had been hoping he would be happy to see her. Now that he wasn’t, she didn’t know what to do. He was a different man than the one she remembered. There was an air of sadness about him. Was that because of the loss of his wife? Marie had only been gone a few months. If theirs had been a love match…
She sipped her coffee and tried not to think about the fact that Caleb had married and fathered a child within a few months of his proposing to her. At the time she’d wondered if he’d ever cared about her at all, or had simply decided it was time to marry and start a family. Maybe he’d never loved her. She hated thinking that could be true, but she had to consider the proof in front of her. Zeke was a charming child who was impossible to ignore. Maybe—
“I’ll show you to your room.”
She glanced up and saw Caleb standing in the doorway. “Where’s Zeke?”
“I put him to bed. He always complains that he’s not tired, but then he’s snoring before I get the door closed.” Pride filled his blue-gray eyes and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
“He’s a fine boy,” Ruth told him. “He spoke very highly of you.”
Caleb crossed his arms over his chest. “Even when he was running away?”
“You have to know that was about his unwillingness to go to school.”
He nodded. “I guess every boy would rather be out riding horses than in a schoolroom learning lessons. I don’t doubt I complained when I had to attend.”
“And your son is very much like you.”
“I hope so.”
His statement surprised her, but before she could question him or figure out what he’d meant, he repeated what he’d said before.
“I’ll show you to your room.”
She rose and walked toward him. When they were close enough for her to feel the heat of him, she drew in a deep breath.
“It was a mistake for me to come,” she told him. “I see that now. John’s suggestion that I repay my debt to your family by offering help surprised me so much that I didn’t consider what it might mean. I know you want me to leave, and I will do so in the morning.”
He gazed down at her. He was strong and powerful. Perhaps she should have been afraid, but she couldn’t be. Not of Caleb. He’d always been so kind to her. Gentle. Understanding. She wondered if time had destroyed that part of him.
His gaze darkened, and for the first time she saw the wounds within him. Deep, unrelenting pain filled his being and she nearly cried out as she felt its coldness touch the edge of her soul. Mortal wounds, she thought, shivering slightly. What was their cause? The death of his wife?
“Stay or not,” he said, turning away. “It doesn’t matter to me.”
Without thinking, she touched his shoulder to stop him. “How can you say that? You’re obviously uncomfortable having me around.”
He spun back to face her, breaking the physical contact between them. “Can you blame me? Nine years ago, I asked you to marry me. Not only did you refuse me with a ridiculous story about staying pure for your healing, you left that same day. As if you couldn’t stand the sight of me. In all this time you’ve never once come to the ranch or spoken with me. When I’ve had business with your brother, you’ve always managed to be gone. So what the hell are you doing here now?”
His raw anger washed over her like lye, burning her, making her wish she’d stayed quiet. Why had she come? Was it about her debt or something else?
“I can’t answer that.” She forced herself to look into his blazing eyes. “I don’t know why. But now that I’m here—” she paused and drew in a breath “—perhaps I should stay.” She could see that there was healing to be done between them. This might be her only opportunity to right the wrong she’d created by her impulsive behavior when she’d left the last time.
He shrugged and started walking. She followed him up the stairs, confused by her own indecision and his fury. So many emotions still boiling between them. So many questions.
They moved down a hallway. There were three open doors, one on the left and two on the right. He entered the former, pushing the door wider. She hesitated until he’d lit a lantern sitting on a small table, then she stepped into the room.
She’d expected him to show her to the small guest room she’d occupied during her last stay. She remembered the pretty floral wallpaper and the four-poster bed that had been so cozy. Instead she stepped into a large room filled with expensive carved furniture, including a dressing table with an oval mirror. Dozens of pillows covered the oversize bed. Lace flounces decorated the window coverings. There were bottles of perfumes and other cosmetics, paintings of horses and portraits of people she’d never seen before.
Ruth could not imagine Caleb living in such feminine splendor, and Caleb didn’t have any sisters. Which meant…
“This was Marie’s room.” He spoke the words without giving away what he was thinking. “I cleaned out most of her things a few weeks ago and aired everything. It’s the only room ready for company. The guest room hasn’t been touched in a couple of years, and I didn’t think you’d be comfortable in my bed.”
She knew he meant that she would be in his bed without him. But his words painted a picture of them together, under the blankets. She could almost feel him touching her, kissing her, taking her and making her his own. She should have been frightened or appalled by the thought, yet she was not. If anything, the sudden trembling of her thighs came from anticipation not disgust.
“Your wife had her own room?”
He glanced around and nodded. “Marie never adjusted to living in Montana. Having this helped her deal with her change in circumstances. Will you mind sleeping here?”
Ruth was not afraid of Marie’s ghost. She had always found the spirits of the recently departed to be kindly, lost souls eager to be on their way.
“The room is very elegant,” she told him. “Thank you for allowing me to stay here.”
He hesitated, but all he said was, “Good night.”
He stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him. Ruth crossed the floor to press her fingers against the wood. She listened to his footsteps in the hall, then the sound of his own door closing.