Luke's Proposal

She didn’t blink under his stare. Luke considered her for a moment, then he lowered his feet to the floor and leaned forward to pull the chair away from the table. She accepted his silent invitation and sat, her back ramrod-straight, ankles crossed, hands folded in her lap, her expression one of resolution.

Luke crossed one ankle over his opposite knee and eyed her, waiting.

Rachel had thought long and hard before approaching Luke McCloud. She knew asking for his help was a long shot, but she was desperate and he was her last hope. Determined though she was, she’d almost turned around and walked out of the tavern when she’d looked across the room and seen him. Stiffening her resolve, she’d forced her feet to carry her across the bar.

But the closer she drew, the more nervous she became.

She’d forgotten how big he was—over six feet tall and heavily muscled, his body honed daily by strenuous ranch work. He sat alone, his long, jeans-clad legs stretched out, ankles crossed, feet resting on the seat of an empty chair. His boots were scuffed and scarred, the black leather showing the unmistakable wear marks of spur straps and metal. His white cotton shirt was fastened up the front with pearl snaps, the long sleeves rolled halfway to his elbows, the tails tucked into the waistband of faded Levi’s. His gaze was remote, and she’d seen no flicker of expression cross his face as he’d watched her walk toward him.

His features gave no hint as to what he was thinking, but Rachel doubted his thoughts were friendly ones. She’d planned this conversation with painstaking detail and tried to anticipate every possible reaction from anger, curses or having him walk out of the bar.

No matter what he did, she was determined to follow him and keep talking until he listened. “I have a business proposition,” she repeated, “and I hope you’ll hear me out before refusing.”

He raised an eyebrow, his skepticism obvious, before he nodded.

“I’m sure you’ve heard my grandfather left a will that was…” She paused, searching for the right word before deciding to opt for frankness. “Let’s just say it might be called unusual.”

“I heard,” he acknowledged. His deep drawl sent shivers of nerves up her spine.

“It’s no secret Granddad split the ranch and left specific portions to each of us, nor that the inheritance taxes assessed after his death are staggering. Mother and I can’t pay our share of the tax owed and we’re on the verge of bankruptcy.” He barely reacted to her blunt words; she would have missed the faint narrowing of his eyes if she hadn’t been intent on watching him.

“All of you? Or only you and your mother?”

“Only me and my mother. And maybe Zach.” Before he could ask why her uncle Harlan and his son Lonnie weren’t affected, Rachel continued. “Our only asset capable of paying the tax debt on the land is a three-year-old stud colt out of Misty Morning by Ransom’s Regret.” The brief flare of interest in his face was quickly erased, but it was enough encouragement for Rachel to continue. “I want to hire you to train him. And to race him.” She stopped speaking, holding her breath for his answer, nerves sending her pulse pounding.

“No.”

She wasn’t surprised. She’d expected a flat refusal, at first. But he hadn’t heard the terms. “We don’t have cash to pay your fees. But we have the deed to the north section of the ranch.”

For a long moment he only looked at her. “You’re offering me the deed to the original McCloud homestead instead of cash?”

“Yes.”

Chapter Two

“Our families have fought over ownership of the homestead for more than eighty years. Now you’re volunteering to sign over 2500 acres of prime land to a McCloud?” Skepticism tinged his deep voice.

“Yes.”

He studied her, his gaze fastened on hers as he lifted the bottle and drank, the muscles of his throat moving rhythmically. Rachel refused to look away, despite the instant, vivid memory of that sensual, hard mouth on hers. If she was to have any hope of convincing him to agree to a business relationship, she couldn’t let him know he still made her knees weak. She’d never been able to forget the kiss they’d shared when she was seventeen. She’d avoided him ever since. She’d been kissed by other men since. Why hadn’t she forgotten the taste and feel of his mouth on hers?

He lowered the bottle. “I can’t believe your uncle knows you’re doing this.”

“He doesn’t,” Rachel said flatly. “And though he’s bound to find out sooner or later, I’d prefer to delay that moment as long as possible.”

“If he doesn’t know, how can he sign off on the deed?”

“My mother will sign. She has control of the property.”

Luke’s eyes narrowed over her, his expression sharpening. “Your grandfather left the McCloud homestead to his dead son’s widow and not to Harlan?”

“Yes.” Rachel refused to elaborate further.

“Your mother moved away from the ranch years ago. I thought she and Marcus were estranged.”

His blue stare was unreadable. Rachel had the uneasy feeling he was weighing each word she said. She was an intensely private person, as was her mother, and they’d agreed to keep the difficulties and disagreements they’d had with Marcus, Harlan and Lonnie within the family. How much did she have to tell Luke to convince him that her mother had the authority to sign the deed and give him the land?

“My mother wanted my brother and me to grow up on the ranch, but when Zach was gone and I left for college, she moved into the house in town she inherited from her parents. She’s involved in many community projects and it’s more convenient for her to live in Wolf Creek rather than twenty miles away on the ranch.”

Rachel knew he wasn’t completely satisfied with her carefully worded explanation. She felt her face heat as he studied her.

“Why don’t you just sell the land to me outright? It might take a few weeks for me to get the cash, but the money would be a sure thing. No matter how good your horse is, racing quarter horses is always a gamble.”

“We considered that,” she admitted, pausing to glance over her shoulder at the bar, buying time to steady her nerves. The waitress looked distinctly unfriendly, but Rachel lifted her hand to beckon her anyway. The woman ignored her, purposely turning her attention to a cowboy seated on a bar stool, and Rachel turned back to Luke. She’d anticipated this question. But, the necessity of telling him a half-truth went against every principle she held dear. The whole truth, however, that the will had said her mother could only accept one dollar from him in return for the property deed, would destroy any hope of his agreeing to train Ransom’s Mist. And Luke and Ransom’s Mist were the only chance she had to guarantee that the inheritance left to her mother, Zach and herself wasn’t lost forever.

“Do you want something to drink?” he asked, glancing past her to the waitress.

“No. I’ve changed my mind.” She drew a deep breath, calmer now, and continued. “Mom and I don’t want to give up any more acres than are absolutely necessary. We want to hold the sections that Granddad left us individually and combine them with the land he left to my brother, Zach. He loves ranching and he loves the land.”

“Then why isn’t he the one talking to me?”

“Because we can’t reach him.” She thrust her fingers through her hair, tucking the long fall behind her ear. “He’s overseas at the moment.”

“Hmm.” Luke’s eyes narrowed. The nervous gesture was the first indication she was anything other than cool and in control. She hadn’t once mentioned her cousin Lonnie. Smart woman, he thought. This conversation would have been over if she’d told him Lonnie was the family member she wanted to join forces with. “I had a cousin in the military,” he commented, watching her. “In an emergency the family could always reach him through his commanding officer.”

Rachel held his stare. “Zach’s not military anymore. He left Special Forces to become a munitions consultant with a private company a couple of years ago. Contacting him is difficult at times, if not impossible. His employer wouldn’t even tell us what country he’s in right now.”

“I see.” Luke wondered just what kind of black ops mission Rachel’s brother was involved in. “How do you think he’ll feel about you trading the homestead to a McCloud?”

“He’ll understand we have to give up a small part of our inheritance to save the rest.”

Luke doubted Zach Kerrigan would understand or agree with the women’s decision, but he let Rachel’s assertion pass. “It would be a lot easier if you’d just sell me the land outright,” he said. “Or sell the whole damn place. My dad would buy it.”

“No.” Her jaw firmed, her expression stubborn. “Kerrigans have lived on the Bar K since we homesteaded there in the late 1800s. We won’t sell. Not unless there’s no other possible choice.”

Luke could understand her position. McCloud ancestors had settled in the basin the same year the Kerrigans arrived. No McCloud would willingly sell, either.

Which made him question even more why she was willing to trade land for his expertise with horses. Especially this particular piece of land.

“Why do I have the feeling there’s more to this than you’re telling me,” he mused, not really expecting an answer. But the swift lowering of her lashes and the tightening of her grip on the leather straps of her bag told him he was right. What was she hiding? Something about the land—or something about the horse? “Suppose you tell me exactly what the problem is with your horse.”

“He’s three years old and he’s never been ridden.”

“And,” Luke prompted when she stopped speaking.

“And he won’t let anyone close enough to break him.”

“That’s not unusual. I’m guessing you have reason to believe no trainer can saddle-break him. So cut to the chase and tell me what happened to him.”

“When he was a yearling, he was caught in a barbed wire fence.” Rachel didn’t react to his muttered curse. “By the time my uncle and the hired hand found him, he was down and wrapped in the fence. They had to cut the wire to get him on his feet, and his hide and legs were torn and bleeding in a dozen places. The vet said that given the amount of damage, he’d probably been on the ground and thrashing for some time before he was discovered.”

“What the hell was a quarter horse with his bloodline doing in an enclosure fenced with barb wire?”

“Harlan was having the metal fences in the horse enclosure painted so he turned Ransom out into the cattle pasture north of the house.”

“Huh.” Luke’s disgust for Harlan’s carelessness with a horse as valuable as Ransom must have been written on his face because Rachel stiffened and appeared to steel herself to continue.

“It gets worse.”

“Worse?”

“Six months later my uncle hired Troy Armstrong to break Ransom.”

Luke swore under his breath.

“Troy had him saddled and bridled when Ransom bucked him off and escaped.”

“He knocked down the metal corral fencing? Or he went over the top?”

Rachel shook her head. “No metal fencing. He wasn’t in the breaking pen—Troy used the snubbing post in an old wood corral. Ransom went crazy and kicked the half-rotted poles loose, then he crashed through them.”

Luke tamped down anger at the trainer’s failure to foresee the potentially dangerous situation, and managed to speak without snarling. “How much damage did he do?”

“None to himself but he pretty much wiped out the corral fence. That wasn’t a big loss because Harlan rarely uses it, but it was a week before my uncle and Troy could get close enough to rope Ransom and bring him in. He ran loose with the saddle twisted and the reins dangling all that time. When they had him in the breaking pen, it took a long time before they could get him to stand still and allow them close enough to strip the gear off. Ever since, he’s been totally unpredictable. He wouldn’t let Troy near him. When Troy tried to rope Ransom again to saddle him, Ransom pinned his ears back, bared his teeth and chased him out of the breaking pen.”

“Smart horse,” Luke commented. “Armstrong is an idiot.”

“I wouldn’t argue with that assessment,” she said with feeling. “Afterward, Harlan turned Ransom loose with the cattle in the open pasture and let him run. He’s been there ever since and no one’s tried to handle him.”

“Why didn’t Harlan hire another trainer?”

Rachel glanced around the bar. Luke let the small silence stretch, waiting for her answer but suspecting what it would be.

“I think my uncle decided Ransom wasn’t worth the effort.”

“But you don’t agree?”

“No.” Rachel’s gaze met his. Conviction rang in her voice. “Ransom’s fast. I’ve seen him run.”

Luke didn’t know if Rachel’s assessment of her horse’s speed was accurate. He did, however, know Harlan Kerrigan was bullheaded and stubborn enough to lose his temper and write off a horse who had potential. Maybe the horse really wasn’t worth the effort it might take to train and race him, but Luke figured the stud’s bloodline alone made it worth a look.

“I have to see the colt before I agree to take him on. And,” he added. “I get the land whether your horse wins or not. You’ll have to sign a contract.”

“Of course.” Rachel slipped the bag from her shoulder and unzipped it to pull out a sheaf of papers. “I had our attorney prepare a document.”

She held out the stapled legal-size form. He took it, settling back into his chair while he scanned the top sheet, then the second, before looking at her.

“You were pretty confident I’d say yes.”

“No.” She shook her head. “I hoped you’d say yes. And if you agreed, I knew you wouldn’t do it without conditions so I had Mr. Cline put in the ones I anticipated.” She gestured at the papers. “I also had him insert a condition I think is important. It’s on page three, paragraph two.”

Luke turned to page three, and read the second paragraph aloud:

“All parties agree to act in good faith. Luke McCloud shall make all efforts to train Ransom’s Mist and enable him to win sufficient races to develop a reputation as a potential stud. Failure to exert such reasonable and expected efforts on the part of Mr. McCloud shall negate the contract in its entirety.”

The language was fairly standard, but Luke felt a flash of annoyance that she felt it necessary to have him sign a document affirming he would do his best to train her horse.

“If I don’t think I can help your horse after I’ve looked him over, I won’t accept your offer,” he said evenly. “If I think he’s trainable, and if I think he has a chance of becoming a stud that generates income for you, I’ll give him the same time and attention as any other horse I handle.”

She flushed, the arch of her cheekbones darkening with color, but her eyes didn’t leave his. “You have a reputation for honesty—that’s why I approached you instead of someone without our family history. And my sources told me that you’re the best trainer in five states. But you’re still a McCloud. And I’m Harlan Kerrigan’s niece and Lonnie Kerrigan’s cousin. I couldn’t ignore the bad blood between our families, nor the possibility that you might feel you have cause to treat our horse differently.”

Her words ripped away the veil of pretense between them and sliced with knifelike precision to the heart of the matter. He was John McCloud’s son and Chase McCloud’s brother. Not only had their ancestors been on opposite sides of a land feud for three generations, but he believed her uncle and cousin had caused his family irreparable harm.

If he agreed to help her, his family would be outraged. Was the long-term gain worth the short-term problems he’d have to face with the rest of the McClouds?

Yes, he decided. He’d deal with his family. Once the deed to the homestead was his and the land legally in McCloud hands, his father, brother, sister and mother would forgive him for agreeing to work with a Kerrigan.

“You’re right. You’re a Kerrigan. I’m a McCloud. But this is business. If I think your horse is trainable, I’ll sign the contract. If not, I won’t.”

“Excellent.” Her mouth curved in a spontaneous smile of relief, and she leaned forward to hold out her hand.

He took her hand in his. The combined impact of her smile and the feel of her slim fingers sent a jolt of lust to his groin and a strange longing through his veins. Her grip was firm, but her skin was an unexpected combination of roughness and soft silk. Frowning, he turned her hand palm up. Barely healed blisters reddened the skin of her fingers and palm while an angry-looking rope burn marked the center.

She tugged her hand from his and he looked at her, studying the faint streaks of pink on her cheeks.

“You’ve been working on the ranch?”

“I’ve been helping Charlie with chores and riding the horses a bit.”

Luke wondered just how many hours a day she was working to tear up her hands like that, but decided to let it go.

“I’ll be back at my place on Wednesday. Bring your horse by and I’ll look him over.” He nodded at the legal papers on the table. “I’ll have my attorney go over the contract before then.”

“Very well.” She rose. “Ransom’s Mist and I will see you Wednesday.”

She waited a moment, as if expecting him to say more. When he didn’t, she nodded, the goodbye gesture as brief as his had been, before she turned and walked away.

Luke’s gaze followed her slim back, the slight sway of her hips, the faint swing of her dark hair against her shoulders as she crossed the room. She disappeared from view, and the heavy bar door closed behind her.

She’s going to be trouble, he thought. He knew it in his gut.

He’d felt the same when he was twenty-one and Rachel Kerrigan was seventeen, too young and way too innocent for him. Despite his instinctive awareness that she had the potential to screw up his life, he’d been hard-pressed to stay away from her back then.

He’d kissed women before. He’d certainly kissed women since. Why had he never forgotten what her mouth felt like under his?

Luke didn’t want to imagine what that said about his feelings for Rachel Kerrigan.

Chapter Three

Rachel walked the short blocks from the bar to her hotel in a daze.

He said yes, she repeated silently as she caught the elevator to her third-floor room, barely aware of the two other people in the lift. The doors opened and she walked down the hall to her room, her fingers trembling in delayed reaction as she swiped her key card and pushed open the door.

She stepped inside and fumbled with the locks before managing to set the dead bolt and slide the security chain into place. The comfortable hotel room had a queen-size bed, and she tossed her purse atop the deep blue spread, kicked off her shoes and dropped onto the edge of the bed.

“He said yes.” The whispered words broke the silence in the quiet room. She pushed her heavy mane of hair away from her temples, drawing a deep, calming breath before leaning forward to switch on the bedside lamp and pick up the telephone receiver.

“Hello?” Her mother answered the phone on the first ring, and Rachel knew Judith had probably been pacing the floor for the last hour, carrying the portable phone in her hand and willing it to ring.

“He said yes, Mom.”

Judith Kerrigan’s swift, indrawn breath was audible. “Thank heavens.” Her voice vibrated with relief.

“He has to see Ransom’s Mist before he’ll sign the contract, but if Luke thinks he has potential, then he’ll take him on.”

“I wasn’t worried about whether Luke McCloud would agree with us that our horse can run,” Judith said bluntly. “But I admit I questioned whether he’d consider training a horse owned by a Kerrigan. I’m surprised he listened to you long enough to hear the proposal.” Her voice sharpened. “He was polite, wasn’t he?”

“Yes, Mom. He was polite.”

“Well, that’s a relief. He’s never been anything but respectful on the occasions I’ve seen him in town, but I admit I was worried about you going alone to talk to him.”

“We were in a public bar, Mom. I was hardly in any danger.”

“Humph. I never thought you were in any physical danger, but your uncle and the McCloud men hold on to that damn feud like dogs with a bone.” Judith’s tone left no doubt that she disapproved. “It wouldn’t have surprised me if Luke had been outright rude to you.”

“I half expected him to get up and walk away before I could explain why I wanted to talk to him,” Rachel confessed. “Fortunately, he stayed. And he listened.” She patted a yawn, overwhelmed with tiredness.

“You sound exhausted, Rachel. I’ll hang up so you can get to sleep. When are you coming home?” Judith asked, her tone brisk as she abruptly changed the subject.

“Early tomorrow. I should be in Wolf Creek before lunch.”

“Stop at my house before you go out to the ranch. I want to hear all the details of your discussion with Luke.”

“I’ll do that. Did you hear from Zach today?”

“No, but maybe I will tomorrow. Wherever it is the company has sent him, surely he’ll be in contact with them before too much longer.”

“I hope so, Mom.” Rachel wasn’t as convinced as her mother that Zach would contact them anytime soon. Over the last few years, her brother had often been out of touch for several months at a time, and when he finally wrote or called, he’d wouldn’t tell them where he’d been. Whatever Zach did for Connor Security Inc. was top secret. She tried not to think about how dangerous the work might be. “We can’t wait for Zach. We have to find a solution that will not only pay our share of the inheritance taxes but also generate future income.”

“Unless we want to sell out to your uncle Harlan.”

“That’s not a possibility for me.”

“Nor for me,” Judith agreed. “Harlan’s always been difficult, but I never anticipated he would act as he has since his father died and we learned the contents of the will.”

Judith’s heavy sigh conveyed her frustration. “I can’t help but wonder why Marcus divided up the ranch but prevented any of us from selling our sections to anyone outside the family, apart from the homestead’s 2500 acres. He created an impossible situation when he left us land but no cash.”

“I don’t think Granddad knew there wasn’t any cash.” Rachel didn’t want to believe her uncle had stripped the cash assets from the ranch during the two years her grandfather was ill. But she couldn’t come up with an alternative explanation that made sense.

Judith was silent for a long moment. “You may be right. After your father died and no longer provided a buffer between me and Harlan, I became convinced that he couldn’t be trusted. Nevertheless, it’s a big leap from family squabbles to an actual crime. But, I can’t help wondering how the ranch became so financially unstable in the past couple of years.”

“Even if Uncle Harlan juggled the books while Granddad was in the nursing home, I don’t know how we’d prove it now. And we still have to find a way to keep our sections financially solvent. Zach’s, too, until we can reach him,” she added.

“I think we’ve settled on the best possible alternative,” Judith said. “I just wish Zach wouldn’t be out of touch for such long periods of time. I worry about him.”

“So do I. And I miss him.” Her brother’s self-imposed exile from Wolf Creek and the Bar K had broken her mother’s heart, just as it had Rachel’s. Although they kept in touch with phone calls, e-mail and the occasional trip to visit Zach when he was in the U.S., it wasn’t enough to keep them from grieving over their separation. She understood why Zach had left and why he’d broken all contact with their grandfather and uncle, but it didn’t make her miss him any less. She yawned again. “I’d better get to bed. I want to be on the road early.”

“Drive carefully.”

“I will. ’Night.”

Rachel hung up, switching on the light as she walked into the bathroom. Twenty minutes later, having showered and pulled on lilac cotton pajama shorts with a matching knit top, she climbed into bed, then leaned across the nightstand and turned off the lamp.