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I would recognize that silhouette anywhere – my husband’s massive frame, well-chiseled arms, and mop of jet-black hair are incomparable. I feel myself go weak in the knees and, more embarrassing to admit, I feel my insides start to twist with longing and desire.Ranger.
I want to leap into his arms, to kiss him, to have him ravish me. I want to taste him, to have him taste me. I want to make love on the new porch swing and have him take me wildly on the steps.
No, Darcy. I chide myself.You can’t. He’s the enemy. He tricked you into marrying him just so he could take over your farm. He probably has some new girl in there with him, andthat’swhy everything is fixed up so nice.
Steeling myself with this sobering internal speech, I march up the stairs until I’m standing directly across from Ranger on the newly re-done porch. Just as I make ready to launch into him and curse him for all his wrong-doings, Ranger glowers at me.
I can’t even open my mouth because his glare is so frightening. Instinctively, I move my hands to cover my belly, attempting to protect the precious life inside. Ranger’s piercing blue eyes follow my hands and his jaw drops. Just as quickly, he regains his composure and grabs my arm, dragging me inside the house.
“Hey wait!” I protest breathily. “What are you doing?”
Standing in the entryway, he whirls on me, blue eyes fierce. I attempt to match his angry scowl with my own glare, but I’m taken aback by how different the house looks inside, too.
The wooden floors have been refinished and gleam in the well-lit hallway. The walls have a fresh coat of paint, and even the furniture looks like it’s been spruced up. I look up at my husband, but he’s still glowering. I open my mouth to break the silence, but he beats me to it.
“You’re pregnant.” It’s practically a snarl.
I swallow hard. “Yes, I am. Six months tomorrow, to be exact.” When he says nothing, I continue. “Don’t worry, Ranger, I can handle this baby on my own. I’m not here to ask you to be involved. Me and your child have been doing just fine on our own.”
I pause, waiting for a reaction. Instead, my husband’s blue eyes are icy and his jaw is rigid. I press on, feeling braver since I’ve clearly rendered him speechless.
I stand up a little taller. “I’m here to take my farm back,” I boldly tell him. “It’s mine by right and while I know we’re married, the deed is in my name, which means it’s mine.”Unless you claimed I was unfit to own it,I realize with some fear. I change my tone to reflect the fact that Rangercouldactually have control of the property. “Please, Ranger, it’s been in my family for generations. I need a place to get on my feet, and to take care of this baby. You won’t ever have to see us, and I promise I won’t make you take any part in rearing or raising this little one.”
At his unnerving silence, I push on.I can’t leave, this is all I’ve got. “At the very least, let me have the house and my veggie garden. I can make do with that; I’ve made ends meet with a lot less.” I’m grateful as I remember the generous wad of cash that Mathilda gave me upon my departure.
“You justleft.” Ranger’s voice is cold.
“I had no choice,” I counter.
“You hadeverychoice,” my husband snaps back.
I shake my head at his take on the situation. “No Ranger. No. You tricked me intomarryingyou. You knew exactly what you were doing. You took advantage of me. Of how lonely I was, how I knew nothing about the world or men or how cruel you all could be.”
“You were being unreasonable about the farm!”
“And that’s an excuse to fool me?” I feel my anger rising and as if on cue, the baby kicks hard, echoing my rage. I grab my belly at the sensation and Ranger’s eyes again follow the movement.
“That ismychild, too, Darcy. You can be damn sure that I’m going to be a part of his life!”
“Like hell!” I stride boldly into the kitchen, acting like I have the upper hand but really wanting to sit down for a moment, exhausted from my journey and the demands of pregnancy. “I don’t even know your real name!”
Ranger follows me into the kitchen, where I am taking a glass from the cupboard and filling it with water from the now-fixed kitchen sink.
“It’s Rock. Rock McLaughlin, and just so you know, you can’t keep me from our child.” The words are cold, threatening. I stare at him.
“Rock, you tricked me into marrying you. You told menothingabout yourself, you lied for months pretending to be a poor cowboy looking for work. For all I know you faked that injury in the barn just to get into my bed.” I chug the water, grateful for its coolness against my hot anger.
“It’s all too complicated for you to understand, Darcy.” The condescension is thick in my husband’s voice.
It takes all of my courage and energy to stand up taller and try and meet his eyes at level – an impossible feat since he stands several inches taller than me. “No, I understand perfectly.” I try to keep my voice calm and unemotional. “You lied to me and tried to steal my land. You don’t get a role in this baby’s life.”
Every emotion seems to suddenly play out across his handsome features: shock, sorrow, disbelief, and finally, rage. Never in my life had I seen the cowboy so furious.
He slams his fist on the newly re-tiled counter and objects jump. I twitch a little but hold my position by the sink. Rock starts to pace the kitchen like an angry, caged beast, and I almost feel sorry for him.
No, you can’t Darcy.He’s only hurt you, and you can’t let him hurt your child.
“Listen,” I say softly, as though talking to a wild animal, “I loved you once. But you’ve broken that love. You brokeme. I can’t be fooled again, and I can’t let you or your family harm this baby. I have to protect us both.” I want to reach out to him, but I’m scared that if I do, I’ll want to hold him and kiss him and take it all back. Instead, I straighten my shoulders and stare directly at him, daring Rock to challenge me.
