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Her mouth trembled as she led the mare from the stable. It was the same horse she’d been riding the day she’d almost run Tyler down. If only she hadn’t gone riding that day. If only she’d ridden toward the hills, not toward the road.
Caitlin gave herself a shake. What was that old expression about not crying over spilled milk? You couldn’t change the past. The future was what mattered, and her future was going to be wonderful.
Espada would be hers.
The mare whinnied and tossed her head.
“Easy, girl,” Caitlin said softly, as she lay the saddle on the animal’s back.
She’d always loved the quiet of early morning down at the stables. The grass, still wet with dew; the sun, warm on her face…all the creatures that called Espada home were stirring and stretching as the new day began.
Less than a week ago, she’d stirred and stretched in Tyler’s arms. She’d greeted the dawn of another day with his kisses on her lips, his hands on her skin…
The mare snorted and danced sideways.
“Sorry,” Caitlin murmured, and let out the cinch strap.
Thinking about that night, and that morning, was pointless. They’d happened and now they were over. And the sooner she stopped wondering why Tyler was doing this to her, the better.
“Mornin’, Jonas.”
She looked up. Jonas had joined Abel at the corral. His smile was almost as broad as the brim of his Stetson.
Her stepfather had been doing a lot of smiling lately, although he certainly hadn’t been smiling when she’d returned to Espada on Sunday. She’d made the drive more on instinct than anything else, her heart filled with Tyler, her body still singing with their commingled passion. The world had seemed perfect—until she’d spotted Jonas, sitting on the front steps of the house, an unlit cigar clamped between his teeth and a scowl as dark as a thundercloud on his face.
She’d killed the engine, stepped down from the cab of her pickup truck and hesitated. She’d told herself not to be a fool. She was a grown woman, and if she wanted to stay out all night with a man Jonas didn’t like, that was her business.
So she’d shut the truck door, squared her shoulders and walked briskly toward the house.
“Good morning,” she’d said, and started past him, but Jonas had risen to his feet and blocked her passage.
“You know what time it is, missy?”
“Ten,” she answered pleasantly, after a glance at her watch. “And I promised Abel I’d help him with the new stud, so if you’ll excuse me—”
“Looks to me as if you’ve already been dealin’ with the new stud.”
Caitlin felt her cheeks burn, but her gaze was unflinching as it met her stepfather’s.
“Don’t,” she said softly. “Please, don’t say anything we’ll both regret.”
“I ain’t sayin’ nothin’ but the truth. You been with Kincaid.”
“Yes. I was with Tyler. And it has nothing to do with you.”
Jonas spat the cigar into the grass. “It has everythin’ to do with me, girl, and with Espada. I’ve been tryin’ to tell you, Kincaid is no good. He come here after somethin’ that ain’t his to take.”
“It’s me he wants,” she’d said softly. “Me, Jonas. Is that so difficult for you to accept?”
“You tell him I’ve decided to will Espada to you?”
The unease that had scrabbled at the edges of her mind during the drive home reached out for her, but she forced it aside.
“Believe it or not, Espada was hardly on our agenda.”
Jonas grasped her arm. “Answer me, girl. Did you tell him?”
“Yes.”
“And? What’d he say?”
Nothing. That was what Tyler had said. He’d simply looked at her, his face expressionless. Then he’d lifted her from his lap, set her on her feet and walked into the house.
“Tyler?” she’d said, staring after him, and he’d stopped, turned back, taken her in his arms and kissed her.
“Sorry,” he’d murmured, holding her close. After a minute, she’d felt his body harden and he’d made love to her again, not gently but hard and fast so that when it was over, she’d been clinging to him, her skin flushed and damp, her breathing rapid. “Cait,” he’d whispered, “Cait, forgive me,” and she’d taken his face in her hands and told him there was nothing to forgive, that it had been exciting, being taken that way.
Staring into her stepfather’s pale, chilly eyes that Sunday morning, she’d forced herself not to think of anything but Tyler, didn’t let herself dwell on why Tyler hadn’t responded to her wonderful news about Espada, why he’d made love to her with such desperation…
Why he’d asked her to forgive him.
She’d looked Jonas in the eye and told him to mind his own damned business. Then she’d gone into the house, up to her room, and phoned Tyler…
Phoned him, and reached his answering machine, the same as she’d reached it twice more before she’d realized he didn’t want to talk to her, didn’t intend to return her calls or to see her again.
“Goin’ ridin’?”
Caitlin looked up. Jonas was strolling toward her, smiling pleasantly.
“Uh-huh.” She made the final adjustments to the mare’s saddle and swung up into it. “She needs a good workout. I figured I’d take her out for a while.”
“Well, you be back by lunchtime, you hear?” Jonas grinned. “Got a surprise for you.”
“I’ll be back.” She touched her heels to the animal’s sides but before she could move out, her stepfather grabbed the bridle.
“Don’t you want to know what it is?”
Caitlin forced a smile. “It wouldn’t be a surprise, if I knew.”
Jonas chuckled. “Spoken like a true Baron,” he said, and let go of the bridle.
A true Baron, Caitlin thought, and clucked softly to the mare. Was that what she was now? She must be; only a true Baron could inherit Espada. She waited for the rush of pleasure that should have accompanied the realization but it wasn’t there. She hadn’t felt pleasure over anything, not in days, not since she’d let herself face the truth, that Tyler wasn’t going to call, that all she’d been was a one-night stand, a woman he’d leched after and, once he’d gotten what he’d wanted, there’d be nothing more.
The mare was edgy. Hell, so was she.
“Okay,” Caitlin said, and gave the animal its head.
The mare headed for the northern hills that rimmed Espada’s lush grazing land at a trot. Caitlin touched her heels to the horse’s flanks and urged it into a gallop. A hot wind slapped at her face, lifted the damp curls from her forehead and she blanked her mind to everything but the heat, the horse and the scents of the meadow.
After a while, she slowed the pace to a trot, then to a walk. Caitlin leaned forward, patted the mare’s arched neck. She and Abel had discussed the animal last night and decided it was time she gave Espada a foal.
“Pretty soon now,” Caitlin said softly, “I’m going to introduce you to that handsome stud in the last stall.” The mare’s ears twitched. “Just take my advice, girl. Enjoy yourself—but don’t believe a thing he says.”
The mare whinnied and Caitlin laughed, but the laugh caught in her throat and became a sob. She threw back her head and glared at the cloudless sky.
“Damn you to hell, Tyler Kincaid,” she said. “Damn you to hell, forever.”
Then she leaned forward, tightened her grasp on the reins and set the animal into a hard, fast gallop.
* * *
Tyler stood on the patio of his house in the Texas hills and stared out across the land.
An Express Delivery box had arrived that morning. It lay on the table behind him. He’d emptied it and now everything he’d spent a lifetime searching for lay neatly stacked inside his briefcase.
“I have everything you’ll need, sir,” the P.I. had told him when he’d called.
He sure as hell did.
There was a sworn statement from the woman who’d served
as receptionist to the doctor who’d delivered a live male infant to Juanita Baron on July 18, thirty-five years before. Another from the doctor’s wife, who’d listened to her husband’s deathbed, guilt-ridden confession of his complicity in reporting the supposed stillbirth of that same infant boy.
And there was the most damning bit of evidence of all.
There, in that neat pile of papers, were documents that bore the name of the drifter who’d come onto the Baron ranch and into Juanita’s life, all those years ago. There was little doubt he’d been her friend, her confidant…but not the father of her child. The private investigator had not only found the drifter’s name, but he’d also found his history. The man had been in the army. He’d had medical records…
Medical records that made it clear the drifter could never have fathered a child. He’d suffered a hideous wound, while serving in the army—a wound that had, without question, left him sterile.
There was no doubt about it now. DNA tests, blood tests, Tyler would demand all of it, but the results would only confirm the truth.
Jonas Baron was his father.
