Luke's Proposal

She plumped her pillow before lying down, tucking the sheet and light blanket around her waist, before staring upward at the ceiling, where a faint strip of light from the streetlamp outside lightened the dark to gray.

What was it about Luke McCloud that affected her so wildly? One long, slow look from his blue eyes and she was instantly flushed, her nerves strung taut, excitement humming through her veins. She was no longer the naive teenager who’d been fascinated by Luke, despite knowing he was forbidden because he was a McCloud—why did she feel the same overwhelming attraction to him she’d felt at seventeen?

Granted, she thought, she hadn’t added a long list of lovers to her sexual résumé since she’d left high school. But she was certainly no longer the innocent virgin who’d been mesmerized by his kiss.

She frowned at the ceiling. No, she wasn’t a virgin. But the intimacy she’d shared with her short-term fiancé hadn’t held a tenth of the electricity she’d felt earlier when she sat across the table from Luke.

No wonder our engagement drifted into limbo before we called it off, she thought. She and Matt remained friends, and when he’d married a fellow lobbyist six months earlier, Rachel attended the wedding and wished them well without a single twinge of regret. She genuinely liked Matt, but she was relieved that she hadn’t been the one standing beside him at the altar, facing a future bound to his.

What did it say about her that one kiss shared with Luke McCloud when she was a teenager had more impact than being engaged to a very nice man she’d dated for three years?

Rachel groaned aloud and determinedly closed her eyes, willing herself to go to sleep.

It did her no good contemplating the reasons why she was so drawn to Luke. The attraction was going nowhere. It couldn’t. He was a McCloud; she was a Kerrigan.

Which is roughly equal to Luke and me being on opposite sides of the infamous Hatfield-McCoy feud.

Rachel reached the small community of Wolf Creek just before noon the following morning. The wide, tree-shaded street where her mother lived was quiet, drowsing under the hot sun. She turned into the driveway and parked her little red sports car next to her mother’s conservative Lincoln sedan. The long rambler sat amid an expanse of neatly trimmed green lawn edged with flower borders filled with lush hybrid roses and sturdy geraniums, their stems heavy with pink and white blooms. An old oak tree towered over one corner of the lawn, throwing leaf-dappled shade over a large section of thick grass and the sidewalk beyond. Rachel gathered her overnight bag and purse from the car just as her mother stepped out onto the porch.

Judith shaded her eyes with her hand against the hot, bright sunlight.

“Hi, Mom.” Rachel closed the car door and started up the brick path that wound across the grass from the driveway to the shallow porch.

“How was the trip?” Judith held open the screen door as Rachel climbed the steps and crossed the porch.

“Fine.” She lifted her sunglasses from her nose to perch them atop her head, and stepped past her mother into the entryway. “There was hardly any traffic in Billings when I left this morning, and even the construction work on the highway didn’t hold me up very long. I don’t think I waited more than ten minutes.”

“You were lucky—I sat in line for a half hour the last time I drove south.” Judith let the screen door close gently behind her. “I made a pitcher of iced tea this morning and was just about to have lunch. Are you hungry?”

“Tea sounds wonderful, but I ate a sandwich the last time I stopped for gas. I’ll pass on lunch.” Rachel paused to drop her bag and purse on the low deacon’s bench in the foyer and followed her mother down the hall to the kitchen.

Judith waited until they were both seated at the table, sunlight pouring through the window beside them and brightening the comfortable kitchen, before she asked about the meeting with Luke.

“You’re sure he wasn’t rude to you?”

Rachel shook her head. “Not at all. Not that he was delighted to see me,” she added wryly, sipping sweet tea from the frosty glass. “But he didn’t refuse to listen, either. He asked some very pointed questions, though, and I hated having to tell him half-truths.”

“What did he ask you?”

“He wanted to know why we didn’t just sell him the property outright.”

“What did you tell him?”

“That selling the homestead wouldn’t create ongoing income to keep the ranch afloat.”

“And he accepted that?”

“He seemed to.” Rachel thought about how they’d parted at the bar in Billings and the way his eyes had narrowed as he’d stared at her during their conversation, as if he knew she was keeping a secret. He can’t read my mind, she thought, ignoring the shiver of fear that chilled her. And it’s unlikely he’ll ever learn the whole truth. “He has no reason to think I was being less than completely honest with him.” Saying the words out loud didn’t help the uneasiness she felt.

Judith frowned, rubbing the lines drawn by worry between her brows. “I can see why you’d want to conceal the clause in your grandfather’s will from Luke. If our finances weren’t such a disaster, I’d sign the land over to Luke or Chase, John and Margaret, or even Jessie McCloud tomorrow. Those acres have caused this family nothing but heartache.”

Rachel had never confided her misgivings to her mother about the night fifteen years earlier when Mike Harper died on the highway and the Kerrigan-McCloud feud had blazed out of control. Maybe it was time she did.

“I’ve often wondered—” She broke off, hesitated, unwilling to upset her mother and unsure how to phrase her concerns, before starting again. “I was shocked when the will was read and we discovered Granddad had split the ranch among the family instead of leaving the property entirely to Harlan. And the clause about the specific section that can only be sold to a McCloud…” She shook her head slowly. “It’s very odd and seems completely out of character for Granddad. He loved every acre of this ranch and was adamant about never selling off any part of it. It’s occurred to me that in the wording of the will, Granddad came as close as possible—without actually saying the words—to admitting he felt we Kerrigans owed something to the McClouds. Why would he have felt that way unless he knew Lonnie and Harlan had lied about who was responsible for the car accident that killed Mike Harper? Chase McCloud swore that Lonnie was driving that night—what if he was telling the truth and Granddad knew? I can’t believe he would have separated the 2500 acres of the homestead from the rest of the property in the way he did unless he believed Chase McCloud was innocent.”

“I agree. It’s almost as if Marcus is trying to make reparation from beyond the grave, isn’t it?” Judith’s voice was weary, her gaze troubled when she met Rachel’s. “We can’t sell the homestead acres to anyone but a McCloud, and we can’t take more than a dollar from them in payment. What does that mean?”

“I think Granddad knew Chase McCloud was innocent and Harlan and Lonnie set him up to keep Lonnie out of jail.” Rachel almost whispered the words, her voice hushed.

Judith’s eyes squeezed shut, and when she opened them a brief second later, the hazel depths were dark with guilt. “I think you may be right. Which makes it twice as unforgivable that we’re using that land as a lure to convince Luke to train Ransom’s Mist.”

Rachel nodded, her own conscience as tortured as her mother’s. “I know. But without Luke to train Ransom, we’ll lose everything Granddad left us, and so will Zach. Luke would never help us for any other reason. That land is the only thing we’ve got that he wants.”

“Then we’d better pray he doesn’t find out it’s already practically his.” Judith’s voice was grim, exhausted with worry and guilt. “Luke McCloud and his brother are dangerous men. I’d hate to give them any more reason to hate us.”

Chapter Four

“He’s not gonna take kindly to being loaded in the horse trailer.” Charlie Aker’s lined face was tanned and weather-beaten beneath his straw cowboy hat. His white eyebrows matched his short-trimmed thick hair, and his pale blue eyes reflected sharp intelligence and wisdom gained over seventy-odd years spent working with cattle and horses.

“I know.” Rachel peered through the corral rails at Ransom, the sole resident of the enclosure. “Do you think you and Mom can herd him into the trailer while I stand by to close the gate once he’s inside?”

“We can try.” Charlie grinned, white teeth flashing against tanned skin. His eyes twinkled as he winked at her. “You’d better be fast girl, ’cause he’s smart.”

Her mother’s chuckle joined Rachel’s laughter as Charlie and Judith swung up on their horses. Rachel opened the gate for them, then walked quickly around the outer perimeter of the corral to reach the loading chute and the horse trailer. At barely 8:00 a.m. the temperature was a comfortable seventy degrees, but the morning sun already promised sweltering heat later in the day. She glanced across the graveled expanse between barn and house and was struck anew with a wave of possessive pride that the ranch, shabby though it was, belonged to her.

Rachel’s new home was known as Section Ten of the Kerrigan Conglomerate. The old but comfortable house was part of a cluster of buildings built on a ranch that Marcus Kerrigan had bought and added to his vast holdings. Since Marcus already had an impressive home, which was now Harlan’s, the Section Ten buildings had been used over the years to house various employees. Her inheritance from her grandfather consisted of several thousand acres of pasture and rich farmland, the two-story house, a barn, machine shed, corrals and several smaller outbuildings. The pastures were nearly empty, with only a few dozen head of cattle, several older saddle horses, Ransom, and a rangy ten-year-old Appaloosa gelding named Ajax. The horse belonged to Zach, and several years earlier, when he could no longer visit Wolf Creek on a regular basis, he’d given the Appaloosa to Rachel. She’d stabled Ajax at a small ranch outside Helena and ridden him on weekends, trailering him home with her for a few weeks each year when she returned to Wolf Creek to visit her mother. During those vacations, Ajax had been cared for by Charlie, the bowlegged horseman who had worked for her grandfather for as long as Rachel could remember.

The day Rachel told him Marcus had split the ranch and given her Section Ten, Charlie declared he was staying on. She told him she couldn’t afford his wages but he said he didn’t care. He offered to work for room and board and a promise of future pay when the ranch was in the black. Charlie had taught Rachel and Zach to ride, and they’d both spent many long hours with him as children on their grandfather’s huge ranch. Charlie was more like family to Rachel, her mother and brother than their own relatives.

Charlie moved from the ranch house into a small apartment over the tack room in the barn, and Rachel shifted her furniture into the mainhouse. Fortunately, the old bachelor cowboy was neat as a pin and the place was scrupulously clean. Her own feminine, modern furnishings were in stark contrast to the Spartan fifties interior, but Rachel had plans to spruce up the solidly built home when she could afford renovations.

But first we have to get him in the trailer, she thought, forcing her attention back to the corral and Ransom.

Loading the stallion turned out to be far more difficult and time consuming than she’d anticipated. The stallion balked, reared, evaded and generally fought until everyone was equally frustrated.

Rachel wanted to deliver Ransom’s Mist to Luke’s ranch by 9:00 a.m., but the hands on her watch pointed to ten-thirty when she finally turned off the highway. She drove slowly down the winding gravel road to the house and the cluster of barns, corrals and outbuildings that made up McCloud Enterprises Property #6.

On the seat beside her, carefully tucked into a folder, was the agreement signed by her mother.

Now, if Luke will just sign it, too, she thought. She brushed her hair out of her eyes and sucked in a deep breath as she slowed, parking the borrowed truck and horse trailer in front of the house.

The long, low rambler was neat and tidy, freshly painted white with black shutters at the windows. Sprinklers whirled lazily, the arc of water turning the green grass damp and leaving drops glittering on the old lilac bush at the far-left corner of the house. Two tall maples stretched long branches toward the eaves, their leaves shading the roof from the hot sun. The oasis of green lawn was fenced with low wrought-iron posts and rails.

The ranch buildings were located at the end of a valley and beyond the lush garden stretched pastures dotted with gray-green sagebrush, rolling upward to meet the flat-topped buttes that stood in a semicircle behind the house. In the other direction, white-painted board fences marched in neat, straight lines away from the horse barn and corrals. Farther out, fields of oats and rye waved as a breeze rippled the green stalks.

Rachel switched off the truck engine and slid out of the cab. The latch on the gate gave easily beneath her hand, and she passed through, turning to fasten it behind her. She’d heard about Chase McCloud’s talent as a blacksmith, especially with iron lace work, and guessed that Luke’s brother was the one responsible for the graceful curves and artistic lines of the unique gate.

Artistic wasn’t a word she would normally have associated with Chase McCloud, Rachel thought. She hadn’t seen him since his grandfather’s funeral fifteen years earlier but the local rumor mill still buzzed with tales of his exploits as a bounty hunter in the years after he was released from jail at age nineteen. The gossip implied he was a dangerous man who’d never forgiven his neighbors for the conviction that had delivered him to Montana’s juvenile correction system.

She hoped that didn’t mean he would convince Luke not to train Ransom.

She followed the brick sidewalk, climbed two shallow steps and reached the shade of the porch that extended the length of the house.

The screen door was closed but the inner one stood open, allowing her to see down the dim hallway. Somewhere inside the murmur of a radio announcer was followed by the twang of guitars and low growl of Toby Keith and Willie Nelson singing ‘Whiskey for my men, beer for my horses.’

The music ceased abruptly the moment she knocked on the door. Boots thudded on wood flooring, and a man walked down the passage to push open the screen door. Rachel took a step back, then retreated two more as he stepped out onto the porch.

Chase McCloud hadn’t just grown older. He was bigger, harder and colder than the boy she remembered seeing at his grandfather’s graveside. The McClouds were all big men, and she found Luke’s height intimidating, but Chase wasn’t just tall and broad. He seemed hard as granite, his features remote and bordering on menacing.

Rachel realized he was watching her, waiting for her to speak.

“I’m looking for Luke. Is he here?”

“Down at the barn.” He looked past her at the truck and horse trailer parked at the gate before his gaze returned to hers. He didn’t say anything further, his expression unreadable.

“Well… I’ll drive down there then.”

When he didn’t respond, she nodded abruptly, spun on her heels, descended the porch steps, marched down the sidewalk, through the gate and climbed into the truck cab. When she glanced back at the house, Chase had disappeared.

Rachel sucked in a deep breath and blew it out. “That man is scary,” she muttered as she twisted the ignition key. She shifted into gear and drove past the house and down the gravel lane to park at the barn and corrals.

The big sliding door stood open, and just as Rachel rounded the hood of the truck to search for him, Luke stepped from the barn’s dim interior into the bright sunlight. Her stride faltered and she reached out blindly, steadying herself with a hand on the truck’s hood.

Like Chase, Luke’s sheer size was intimidating, but unlike his brother, he was dangerous to Rachel in so many other ways. Just looking at him made her heart beat faster and heat move through her veins. Her skin seemed more sensitive to the touch of the hot sun and the brush of the faint breeze that lifted the ends of her hair and stroked her body.

There was no question he was the sexiest man she’d ever met. Nevertheless, Rachel was determined to ignore her physical reaction and focus on business.

I need him as a business partner, that’s all, she reminded herself. There won’t be anything else between us, regardless of how much my stupid hormones shriek.

Sunlight highlighted the supple flex of tanned biceps below the short sleeves of his white T-shirt. Faded Levi’s rode low on his hips. Torn at the knee, the snug denim faithfully followed the length of powerful, muscled thighs and long legs to end just above the heels of scuffed black cowboy boots.

A straw cowboy hat was tilted over his brow, shading his face. But nothing could conceal the narrow-eyed assessment that rivaled his brother’s in intensity.

His ice blue stare snapped her back to reality, and she realized that she was standing still, gazing at him like a star-struck teenager. Annoyed, she tucked her hands into her jeans pockets and stepped forward.

“Hello, Luke.”

“‘Mornin’.” He nodded his head in greeting, his gaze lowering in a swift scan from her hair to her boots and back again.

A lick of fire followed where his gaze touched. Rachel willed herself not to react when his eyes met hers and she read the heat there. She resisted the urge to smooth a hand over the pale yellow T-shirt tucked into the belted waistband of her worn Levi’s. Repeated washings had faded and shrunk the denim until the jeans were soft and snug, and Rachel suddenly wished she’d given more thought to getting dressed this morning. Maybe she should buy new jeans that were not quite so close fitting.

On the other hand, she thought, perhaps she should ignore him. It was downright irritating that she caught herself wondering fleetingly if he liked what he saw.

“Ransom’s in the trailer.” She turned and walked toward the tailgate. As she passed the back of the truck, Luke fell in beside her, his long easy strides carrying him past her. Inside the trailer, the stallion was enclosed in the front section of the four-horse carrier, but he wasn’t tied and he moved restlessly from one side to the other, clearly stressed. By the time Rachel joined Luke, he’d unlocked and opened the tailgate.

Ransom looked over his shoulder and across the divider at them, his nostrils flaring, eyes widening until a ring of white rimmed the brown. He spun in the narrow space, setting the trailer rattling and swaying, aggression in every flex and bunch of muscles in his powerful body.

“Easy,” Luke crooned. “Easy, boy.” He eyed the nervous dance of unshod hooves against wood flooring and the small white scars scattered over Ransom’s glossy black hide before turning to look at Rachel. “Did he get those scars from the barb wire?”

“Yes.”

His jaw tightened, his expression grim as he studied Ransom once more. “He isn’t haltered. How much trouble did he give you when you loaded him this morning?”

Rachel thought about lying but decided not to— Luke would find out soon enough just how much Ransom hated to board the trailer. “Some,” she admitted, deciding to be as noncommittal as possible.

“Hmm.” He considered her for a moment, then closed and latched the gate.

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