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As soon as he’d left, Ty went into the bedroom. Tara was standing at the vanity mirror, removing the matching ermine hat and shaking out her long, silken black hair. He came up behind her and let his hands settle onto the soft points of her shoulders while he buried his face in the fineness of her hair.
“I’m glad you’re home.” His muffled voice was husky with need.
“I’m not.”
The blunt, harsh answer stunned him. When she turned around to face him, Ty made no effort to maintain his hold on her. She must have seen the hard anger in his eyes. Her hands came up to rest lightly on his chest. There was an earnest, almost insistent edge to her expression.
“Ty, what are you going to do about what’s happened?” It was almost a demand.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, brusque with his answer. The hunger was still in him, but he wouldn’t show it to her now.
“This business with your father,” she retorted impatiently. “Why didn’t you tell me about it before? I wish you wouldn’t keep things like that from me. It’s very embarrassing to find out about them from someone else. It puts me in a very awkward position, and I don’t like it.”
While there was some consolation that she wanted his confidences, her complaint also touched a sore nerve. “Is it my fault that things come up while you’re gone? Maybe if you stayed home more, you’d know what was going on.”
“Why should I spend every day of my life here when you spend most of your time in some godforsaken corner of this ranch?” Tara flared at his criticism of her absences. “Just so I can be at your beck and call?”
“Yes!”
Temper claimed him, made quick by the hunger that sharpened his nerves. He caught her by the shoulders and hauled her roughly into his arms. Her protest was shut off by his hard kiss. For a moment, his passion had its way with her and she responded to its demands, kissing him back. But Tara wouldn’t give in to it, not hers nor his.
Her arms pushed him back, stiffening to keep him there. “TV, we have to decide how we’re going to handle this,” she insisted, despite the uneven rush of her own breathing. “I don’t think you realize how important it is—what a problem it can become.”
“You’re awfully concerned about the ranch all of a sudden, aren’t you?” Many things lay hotly and threateningly between them; not the least was Tara’s strong will and ambition that could take precedence over the feelings in her heart.
“It’s my home as much as it is yours!” she asserted, then instantly softened. “Ty, let’s not quarrel over something as silly as this. We have to do something about your father before he ruins everything.”
“How can he ruin everything by fighting to regain title to land he believed he rightfully owned?” Ty demanded, then wondered, “And what’s your father doing here?”
“It was Stricklin’s idea—not mine.” Her disapproval was evident. “It was my opinion he should stay away and avoid being tainted by any of this.”
“Tainted?” Ty found that to be an odd choice of words, but he had no opportunity to pursue the discussion as the door to their suite was opened.
“Tara!” Cathleen came breezing into the master suite, not regarding it as essential that she knock before invading their privacy. “I came to see what-all you bought this time. How was your visit? I’11 bet it was warm down there. You beast, you have a tan,” she accused enviously when she finally came to a stop in their bedroom. She would be turning sixteen soon. Beneath that youth, there was a woman’s desires ready to make riot in her.
“Cat, would you mind clearing out?” Ty ordered. “I’d like some time alone with
my wife. You can find out all about her trip later.”
I have plans for later,” his sister replied, nonplussed by his attempt to evict her. “And I have to go back to school in the morning.” Her green eyes took on a wickedly knowing gleam. “Besides, it’s too early for what you’ve got in mind.
You’ll just have to wait until it’s time to go to bed to have your . . . time alone . . . with your wife.”
“Cat’s right.” Tara sided with her. “There will be more time after dinner.” She smiled at Ty and moved away. “All the packages are in the sitting room. Two of them are for you.”
Overruled, Ty was forced to accept the decision and postpone the discussion until after dinner. He was brooding as he left their suite, the sound of Tara’s voice and Cat’s mingling in excited conversation over the purchases.
The dinner conversation that evening skirted controversial subjects and focused on safe topics. Since Dyson had started his coal-mining operations, the relationship between the Texan and Chase Calder had become strained. Chase still had reservations on the role Dyson might have played in this recent reversal of land title. He was suspicious, but without proof, so he’d kept them mostly to himself. Each time he looked at Stricklin’s immaculately clean hands and manicured nails, holding the silverware, Chase was reminded of Potter’s remark about not trusting the man.
“While the women are clearing the table, why don’t we take our coffee to the den?” Dyson suggested. Chase hesitated, and Dyson took note of it. “I’d like a word with you in private, if you don’t mind, Chase.”
“Of course.”
Ty folded his napkin and placed it on the table. “Unless you need me, I have a mare due to foal that I want to check on.” It was a difficult line of loyalty to walk now between his father and Tara. Ty left it to his father’s judgment whether or not it was necessary he participate in a discussion that might become heated.
It was a point Chase debated with himself, but he realized the conversation could be related to his son at a later time. “It’s the first foal due out of your new stud, isn’t it? You’d better check on the mare now. Tara won’t thank me if you wind up taking part of her evening to do it because I claimed your time.”
The doors were shut to the den when Ty left The Home-stead to check on the mare’s condition. Knowing his father, Ty doubted that he’d appreciate any advice from Dyson, and considering Tara’s reaction, it was likely the reason for his visit. Dyson was protective of his daughter and always had been.
