скачать книгу бесплатно
A Husband Made In Texas
Rosemary Carter
Married to the man?Flynn Henderson was all cowboy, from the top of his Stetson to the tips of his boots. What came in between those boots and hat would make any woman's mouth water.Flynn was intent on one thing: revenge. Five years ago he'd sworn he'd only return to the Mullin ranch when he owned it. As far as he was concerned, the Mullins deserved everything they got, and that included their headstrong, spoiled daughter. Kaitlin was going to be nothing but trouble to any man foolish enough to try and marry her. But, darn it, she was sexy….
“I’m asking you to many me.” (#uffe2d909-f878-5634-85da-ce7c977217b4)About the Author (#u3f77dc36-7ab9-501e-9f74-0899af6fa179)Title Page (#udb38af98-042b-568d-9524-025fdd8a1d9d)CHAPTER ONE (#u86248fdc-1f7b-57e1-9e22-bb0e10ffc2e8)CHAPTER TWO (#uaac8cac7-93e5-5a7f-a3d2-0fb165d81b60)CHAPTER THREE (#u31839c13-bc3b-5163-8091-56ae7973ef00)CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
“I’m asking you to many me.”
An intense emotion showed in Kaitlin’s face; it was in her eyes, in the sudden trembling of her lips. Flynn held his breath as he waited for her to speak.
But when she did so, her voice was contemptuous. “Marry you?”
In that moment there was the sound of her mother in Kaitlin’s tone. The sound of that well-bred Southern beauty in whose eyes Flynn Henderson had never been and could never be anything more than a simple cowboy.
“Why not?” he asked mockingly.
Rosemary Carter was born in South Africa, but has lived in Canada for many years with her husband and her three children. Although her home is on the prairies, not far from the beautiful Rockies, she still retains her love of the South African bushveld, which is why she likes to set her stories there. Both Rosemary and her husband enjoy concerts, theater, opera and hiking in the mountains. Reading was always her passion, and led to her first attempts at writing stories herself.
A Husband Made in Texas
Rosemary Carter
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CHAPTER ONE
FIVE years to the day since he had left the Mullins ranch, Flynn Henderson was back. He had left the ranch on a horse, all his worldly possessions contained in two bags. He returned piloting his own plane and with a document worth a small fortune in his hip pocket.
As he brought the plane around in a great sweeping circle, he saw a flash of red and brown on the range beneath him. Round he went again, lower this time, only just clearing the tops of the trees, flying over brushlands and cattle and stretches of mesquite. And there it was again, clearer this time, that same red and brown. Only now he could see that the brown was the colour of a cantering horse, red the colour of its rider’s blouse.
One more circle. And then he was bringing the plane to the ground, unerringly, expertly, knowing just where to land—even though he had never landed a plane there before. Through the cockpit window, still some distance from the airstrip, he saw the horse and its rider.
Would Kaitlin remember the promise he had made the last time he had seen her?
Opening the door of the plane, he leaped lithely to the ground. The horse was moving quickly. Leaning nonchalantly against the side of the plane, Flynn waited.
He could see her clearly now: the girl on the tall brown horse, blond hair streaming behind her. Memories flooded back as he watched her. He had forgotten her litheness in the saddle, the sensuous ease with which she rode, almost as if she had been born on a horse, as if she had ridden before she had walked. Which in a sense she had done, because—so legend had it—her rancher father bad put her in front of him on his saddle from the moment she could sit.
At the edge of the airstrip, she reined in her horse. Seconds later she was running towards him. Flynn, who had thought himself hardened against all emotion, found himself sucking in his breath as she came nearer, reedslender—had she always been quite so thin?—and graceful as a gazelle.
His mouth hardened as he remembered the promise he had made, and the reason for it. Five years ago they had humiliated him, Kaitlin Mullins and her parents, without compassion, without any thought to his feelings. Lovely Kaitlin, with whom—stupidly—he had imagined himself in love. On the day he left, he had vowed to come back here as owner of the ranch.
It was only more recently that he had thought of completing his revenge by laying claim to the daughter as well as the ranch. Once the idea came to him it took hold: Kaitlin Mullins would be his!
There had been bad times, rough times, days when he had been tempted to give up his plans. But always, the decision to own the ranch had given him strength and reinforced his ambitions. He had come a long way in five years, he thought wryly.
‘Hello, Kaitlin,’ he said.
She stopped quite still. She was tall for a woman, but at six and a half feet he towered above her, and he saw the way she tilted her head back to look at him.
Expressions came and went in her lovely almond-shaped eyes: shock, surprise, and something else, an expression that was difficult to read.
‘Can it be...? Flynn...?’ The words emerged slowly, almost painfully. In seconds her cheeks were drained of colour, and she seemed to sway on her feet. There was a part of Flynn that wanted very badly to reach out and steady her—but he didn’t
‘Flynn.’ Her voice shook. ‘It is you!’ She was visibly shaken.
Drily, he said, ‘Yes, Kaitlin, it’s me.’
She came up close to him. ‘My God, I don’t believe it!’
Abruptly, he stepped out of her reach. ‘Why is it so hard to believe?’
Kaitlin must have registered the rebuff, for the colour returned to her cheeks. ‘You’re the last person I expected. And in a plane...’
‘It isn’t unusual for Texans to fly, Kaitlin.’
‘I know that. But you’re a cowboy, Flynn.’
He laughed mockingly. ‘And cowboys don’t fly?’
‘I didn’t mean—’
‘What did you mean?’ he asked deliberately.
Now that she was over her initial shock, Kaitlin was beginning to look angry, too. ‘You know what I meant, Flynn, you always did.’
‘You could be right. Let’s try this. Cowboys are lowly, sweaty beings who know all about horses and cattle, but very little about anything else. When they go anywhere, it’s usually on horseback. Pick-up truck or bus if need be. Planes and the people who fly them exist in a different world. Your world, Kaitlin. How am I doing so far?’
Her hands clenched at her sides as she took a step backwards. ‘It’s so long since we last saw each other. We should be catching up, not exchanging angry words.’
‘How long exactly, Kaitlin? Do you know?’
His gaze searched the small oval-shaped face, lingering on eyes that were as green as the grass after a good spring rain, and on tendrils of fair hair shot with gold; on skin that was fresh and glowing, as if she had already spent hours riding through the brushlands, and on sweetly curved lips that seemed to have been made for a man’s kisses. A potent combination.
And yet, familiar as she still was to him, he could see she had changed. The Kaitlin he remembered had had the soft slightly rounded figure of a girl soon to leave her teens: she was so thin now, and very tanned. Her body had a wiry look, that made her look athletic. Hair which used to curl around her head was drawn back in a long pony-tail, with just those few tendrils escaping onto her forehead. The clothes she wore were basic, with no concession to fashion: plaid shirt, a pair of faded jeans, and on her head a Stetson to protect her from the fierce Texas sun.
On another woman, the complete lack of artifice might have made for dowdiness. But Kaitlin had never needed fashion or cosmetics in order to be attractive. She was still, Flynn thought, the loveliest girl he had ever seen. She was also enormously sexy.
‘Do you know how long it’s been?’ he asked.
Her hesitation was only momentary. ‘Almost five years.’ ‘Five years to the day, actually,’ he said brusquely.
‘Are you accusing me of something?’
‘I remembered the date, Kaitlin.’
‘I wasn’t far off. Besides which, I don’t happen to mark on my calendar the anniversary of our last meeting.’
‘Apparently not,’ he agreed evenly.
‘What brings you here, Flynn?’
‘I came to see you.’
‘Just like that?’
Flynn hitched his fingers beneath the belt of his leghugging jeans. ‘Just like that.’
‘Without any notice.’
‘Did I have to give you notice I was coming?’
The last remnants of her shock had gone, he saw, for suddenly the lovely eyes were sparkling with challenge. ‘After all these years? Yes, Flynn! You could have written or at least phoned.’
‘Didn’t know it was necessary to do that,’ he drawled.
Her head lifted haughtily. ‘If you’d warned me, you’d have been sure of a welcome.’
Flynn gave a short laugh. ‘Have you become the Southern belle your mother always wanted you to be?’
‘What exactly are you trying to say?’
‘Expecting a man to announce his intention to visit? Playing one suitor off against another? Demanding flattery and lavish gifts? If so, you’re looking at the wrong man, Kaitlin Mullins. I don’t have time for social niceties.’
‘I’m no Southern belle,’ she said abruptly. ‘As for niceties, I have no time for them either. Which is why I’ll be quite direct and ask you to leave.’
‘I’m going nowhere. At least not yet.’
If she was taken aback, she did not show it. On the slender neck, the small head was erect. ‘That’s too bad, Flynn, because I have things to do.’
‘Busy, are you?’
‘Very busy.’
‘With what?’
‘Nothing that would interest you,’ she said defiantly.
Kaitlin was fiery and she had courage, Flynn acknowledged. Whatever ill luck adversity might have handed her, it hadn’t dampened her spirit.
‘Try me, Kaitlin.’
‘I don’t think so.’ Her tone was cool. ‘Sorry if I sound unwelcoming, Flynn, but I really do have things to do. Do you have access to the plane any time you want it?’
He nodded, and saw surprise in her eyes.
After a moment, she said, ‘Great. Means we can plan a future visit. I’d like to talk, find out what’s been happening in your life—but we’ll have do it some other time.’
‘You’re sounding like that Southern belle again,’ he mocked.
Kaitlin dropped her pretence at politeness. ‘Stop putting me down!’
‘When you stop putting me off.’
‘I’m just suggesting we postpone the visit for another time.’
‘We could, but we won’t,’ he said firmly. ‘And you haven’t told me what you’re so busy with.’
‘Can’t you take a hint? Look, Flynn Henderson, you’re wasting my time.’
‘Why is it so valuable?’
Kaitlin seemed to be trying very hard to keep her temper in check. ‘Phone me, Flynn, and we’ll arrange something that’s mutually convenient.’
She was about to jump on to the horse’s back, when Flynn caught the reins in his hands.
‘Mutually convenient, indeed. What kind of language is that between two people who used to be friends? More than friends, actually.’
To his satisfaction, two bright spots of red appeared in her cheeks. After a moment he went on, ‘Busy with what, Kaitlin? Why won’t you tell me?’
She was standing so close to him that Flynn was rocked by a host of sensations he thought he’d forgotten. He resisted the urge to pull her against him.
‘Let go of the reins!’ Kaitlin hissed.
Flynn was unyielding. ‘Busy with what?’
Kaitlin was silent a few seconds. In the small face an expression came and went. At last, as if she understood that he would persist until she answered him, she reluctantly said, ‘There’s a calf...’
Her tone was so low that Flynn had to bend his head in order to hear her. The fragrance of her hair filled his nostrils.
‘A calf?’
‘Lost. Maybe hurt. I have to go after it. Now do you understand why I can’t waste time chatting?’
Flynn decided not to ask why she had to undertake a chore normally done by one of the cowboys.
‘I’ll go with you,’ he said.
Her hair brushed his chin as she jerked against him. ‘Impossible. ’
‘Why?’
‘It’s quite a distance from here, and I’m going on horseback.’
‘We’ll both go on horseback, Kaitlin. And don’t tell me that’s impossible because we both know it’s not.’
‘We’re a long way from the stables, Flynn.’
His laughter was low and mocking. ‘You don’t say.’
