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Carter sighed.
Desiree could see that he wanted to say no. He sought out her eyes, his lips pursed in displeasure. She decided to rescue him from her daughter’s clutches.
“It’s nearly bedtime, sweetheart. You’ll have to wait to show Mr. Prescott your room until some other time.” It was all she could do to keep her own displeasure at the cowboy’s surliness out of her voice.
“Are you going to be my daddy?”
“Nicole!”
Desiree was mortified at the question because she had, in fact, proposed to the man sitting across from her, and because she hadn’t realized Nicole was even aware that she was seeking a husband. The little girl’s next words made it clear that she had thought of the idea all on her own.
“My friend Shirley has a daddy, but I don’t. I asked Santa Claus for a daddy, but so far I haven’t got one. Are you the daddy I asked for?”
“No,” he said in a strangled voice.
“Oh. Well, it’s not Christmas yet,” Nicole said cheerfully. “Maybe Santa Claus will bring me a daddy.”
Desiree was chagrined at her daughter’s outspokenness. However, if she had anything to say about it, Nicole would get her wish, although Carter’s attitude toward Nicole was a matter that needed further exploration before their discussion of marriage continued.
Carter was pleased when they reached the Rimrock ranch house to discover it was just as he remembered it. The two-story frame structure had been built to last by people who cared. Someone had planted pines and spruce around the house, and with the drifting snow it was a scene worthy of a picture postcard.
“Follow the road around to the back,” Desiree said.
Carter didn’t volunteer to carry Nicole from the truck, and Desiree didn’t ask. But halfway to the door, and though it made his stomach clench, he took the little girl in his arms to relieve Desiree of a burden that was obviously too heavy for her.
To his surprise, when he reached for the doorknob, he discovered that Desiree had locked the back door. Most ranches, even in this day and age, were left open, a vestige of range hospitality from a time when homesteads had been few and far between.
“Afraid of the bogeyman?” he asked with a wry grin.
Desiree didn’t smile back. “I have to think of Nicole’s safety.” She stepped inside, turned on the light and held the door for him.
Carter immediately set the little girl down. His heart thudded painfully as he watched her race gleefully across the room, headed for the hall. She turned on the light and kept going. Carter could hear her running up the stairs.
“Make yourself comfortable while I put her to bed,” Desiree said, following Nicole down the hallway that led to the rest of the house. “We’ll talk as soon as I get her down. There’s coffee on the stove or brandy in the living room. Help yourself.” Then she was gone.
Carter hadn’t been in the house before, but he knew the moment he crossed the threshold that this was a home. A band tightened around his chest, making it hard to breathe. This was what he had been seeking. There was warmth and comfort here, not only for the body, but also for the soul.
The kitchen was cluttered, but clean. There were crayon drawings taped to the refrigerator, and a crock full of wooden spoons and a stack of cookbooks sat on an oak chest in the corner. The red-and-white linoleum floor was worn down to black in front of the sink, and the wooden round-leg table and ladderback chairs were scarred antiques. An old-fashioned tin coffeepot sat on the stove. Carter decided he would rather have the brandy.
He followed where Desiree had gone, down a hallway, past a formal dining room, to a combination office and parlor, where a stone fireplace took up one wall and a large rolltop desk took up most of another. A picture window took up the third wall. The fire had burned down to glowing embers, and Carter took the poker and stirred the ashes before adding another log.
A spruce Christmas tree stood in the corner, decorated with handmade ornaments. Above the fireplace, a set of longhorn steer horns a good six feet from tip to tip had been mounted.
Carter looked longingly at an old sofa and chairs that invited him to sit down. He heard a whoosh from the vents as the furnace engaged. As he surveyed the room, he realized that the aged quality he had admired so much in the furniture was as much the result of poverty as posterity. Certainly there were heirlooms here. But there was a shabbiness to the furnishings that could only be the result of limited funds.
Carter felt sick to his stomach. Maybe Desiree Parrish knew more about him than he had thought. Maybe she had come after him because she knew he had the money to restore this ranch to its former glory. He had been married once for his money. It wasn’t an experience he intended to repeat.
He spied the wet bar where he found the brandy and glasses. “Would you like me to pour one for you?” he called up the stairs.
“Please. I’ll join you in a moment,” Desiree called down to him.
Desiree took a deep breath and let it out. She had another chance to persuade Carter Prescott that he should marry her. She had to do everything in her power to convince him that she—and the Rimrock—were a bargain he couldn’t refuse.
She leaned over and kissed Nicole good night. “Sleep tight, sweetheart.” She left a small night-light burning. Not for Nicole. It was Desiree who feared the dark. She had made it a habit to leave a light so she could check on her daughter without the rush of terror that always caught her unaware when she entered a dark room.
Desiree closed her daughter’s bedroom door behind her and hurried across the hall to her own room. She slipped out of her coat, which she hadn’t even realized she was still wearing. But she had turned the heat down before she’d left for church to conserve energy, and it took time for the furnace to take the frost out of the air.
She crossed to the old oak dresser with the gold-framed mirror above it and checked her appearance. This was a heaven-sent second opportunity, and she wanted to look her best. It had become a habit to sit at an angle before the dresser, so only the good side of her face was reflected back to her. She forced herself to face forward, to see what Carter Prescott would see.
There was no way to disguise the scar. It was a white slash that ran from chin to temple on her right side. Plastic surgery would have corrected it, but she didn’t have the money for what would be purely cosmetic work. She put another layer of mascara on her lashes and freshened her lipstick. And she let her hair down. It was the one vanity she had left. It spread like rich brown silk across her shoulders and down to her waist.
She smoothed her black knit dress across a body that was curved in all the right places, but which she knew had brought her husband no pleasure. Desiree forced her thoughts away from the sadness that threatened to overwhelm her whenever she looked at herself in a mirror. She had to focus on the future, not the past. This was her last chance to make a good impression on Carter Prescott. She couldn’t afford to waste it.
But it took all her courage to open the bedroom door and walk down the stairs.
Carter controlled the impulse to gasp as Desiree entered the parlor. It was the first time he had seen her when she wasn’t shrouded in that moth-eaten coat. She moved with grace, her body slim and supple. Her dress hugged her body, revealing curves that most women would have died for. His groin tightened with desire.
He thought maybe his hands could almost span her waist. There wasn’t much bosom, but more than a handful was a waste. His blood quickened at the thought that if she were his wife, he would have the right to hold her, to touch her, to seek out the secrets of her body and make them his.
He wasn’t aware he was avoiding her face until he finally looked at it. His eyes dropped immediately to the brandy in his hands. He forced himself to look again, but focused on her eyes. They were a rich, warm brown, with long lashes and finely arched brows. It was clear she had once been a very beautiful woman. Once, but no more. The scar ran through her mouth on one side, twisting it down slightly.
“Did you pour a brandy for me?” she asked.
Carter realized he was staring and flushed. He welcomed the excuse to turn away, and shook his head slightly, aware he ought to do a better job of hiding his feelings. She had to look at that scar every day. The least he could do was face her without showing the pity he felt. He turned back to her with the drink in his hand and realized she had turned herself in profile, so he only saw the good side of her face. Desire stabbed him again.
He wondered if she had done it on purpose or whether it was an unconscious device she used to protect herself when she was with other people. At any rate, he was grateful for the respite that allowed him to speak to her without having to guard his expression.
Desiree took the drink from him. “Why don’t you sit down and make yourself comfortable?” She gestured to a chair near the fire and sat down across from him on the sofa so he saw only her good side. “I never gave you a chance earlier this evening to respond to my proposal.”
“I was glad for the time to think about what you had to say.” Carter took a sip of his brandy.
“And?” Desiree held her breath, determined to wait for his answer. Her nerves got the better of her. She couldn’t help making one last pitch. “You can see the house is comfortable.” She forced a smile. “And I’m a good cook.”
“Tell me again why you want to get married,” he said in a quiet voice.
Desiree debated the wisdom of telling Carter the real reason she needed a husband. She had always believed honesty was the best policy. When she opened her mouth to speak, what came out was, “I’ve been on my own for six years. Nicole needs a father. I…the winters are long when you’re alone. And I could use a partner to help me do the heavy work on the ranch.
“As you’ve seen for yourself, my face makes it impossible for me to attract a husband in the conventional way. I decided to take matters into my own hands.”
“Why me?”
“Your grandmother speaks highly of you.” She smiled. “And I haven’t forgotten how you saved Boots.”
“Boots?”
“My cat.”
He rubbed his thigh and grimaced. “Right.”
So maybe she didn’t know about his money, Carter thought. She wanted company. And a father for her child. And someone to do the heavy work on the ranch. That made sense. And he could understand why she didn’t trust a man to see beyond the scar on her face. He was having trouble doing that himself, although his body had responded—was responding even now—to the thought of joining hers in bed. She had beautiful eyes. In profile, the scar didn’t show at all. And in the dark…
He would be giving her something in return for something he wanted very badly. Carter knew he could put down roots here. This place felt like a real home. He wanted to make it his. Though Desiree apparently didn’t know it, he had the money to restore the Rimrock to what it had once been, to make it even better.
He wanted to ask her when and where she had gotten the scar on her face, but he figured that could wait until they got to know each other better. Assuming they did.
“I have two problems with your proposal,” he said.
Desiree had been certain he was going to say a flat no, so she welcomed the opportunity to overcome his objections. “What problems?”
Carter’s lips thinned. “I hadn’t counted on the girl. I’d want her kept out of my way.”
Desiree bristled. “This is Nicole’s home. I wouldn’t think of confining her to any part of it to keep your paths from crossing. If you can’t handle the fact that I have a daughter, this isn’t going to work.”
Carter was amazed at how Desiree’s eyes flashed like fire when she was angry. In that moment, her scar made her look like a fierce warrior. He nodded abruptly. “All right.” He supposed it wasn’t necessary for her to keep the child out of his way; he would do whatever was necessary to keep his distance from the little girl.
“And the second problem?” Desiree asked.
“I can’t agree to a marriage in name only.”
Desiree paled. Her heart pounded, and her stomach rolled over so she felt like throwing up. She couldn’t couple with any man, ever again. “Why not?” She forced out the words through stiff lips.
“I don’t plan to spend the rest of my life as a monk. I’d expect my wife to provide the necessary comfort on cold winter nights.”
Desiree flushed as his eyes boldly assessed her body. She found the man she had selected to be her husband quite handsome. But she had learned from bitter experience that a man became a beast when satisfying his sexual needs. She dreaded what he might expect of her. She was certain she had nothing to offer him.
But it would humiliate her to have her husband going to some other woman for his needs. In their small ranch community the talk would be bad enough if he married her. She didn’t want to give her neighbors any more reason to gossip.
“I’m willing to compromise,” she said at last.
“There is no compromise on this,” he said. “Either you’re willing to be my wife or you’re not.”
“I’m willing to be a real wife,” she assured him. “But not until we know each other better.”
Carter’s lips twisted. “How long do you expect that to take?”
“I don’t know.” Desiree looked him in the eye and watched as he stared back, careful not to let his eyes drop to her scar.
“All right,” he said at last. “I accept your proposal.”
CHAPTER THREE
THEY DECIDED TO BE MARRIED a week later in a civil ceremony in Casper. Desiree offered Carter the guest bedroom, but he decided to stay in a hotel in town until the wedding so he could take care of some unfinished business.
“I’d like Nicole to be present at the wedding,” Desiree said as she stood holding his shearling coat for him at the kitchen door.
“Is that really necessary?”
“Once we’re married, you’ll be her father. I think it would help her to adjust better if she saw us take our vows.”
“From what I’ve heard, she’ll probably think I’m a gift from Santa Claus,” he muttered.
Desiree couldn’t help smiling. Chances were, Nicole would.
THE DAY OF THE WEDDING dawned clear and crisp. Most of the snow had blown away or into drifts, revealing a vast expanse of golden grass. Desiree woke with a feeling of trepidation. Was marriage the right solution to her problem? Would she and Nicole achieve safety by bringing Carter Prescott into the house? Was that alone enough? She considered buying a gun to protect them, but realized that she wouldn’t be able to use it, so it would only become one more danger.
Desiree was still snuggled under the warm covers when she heard the patter of bare feet on the hardwood floor. Her door opened and Nicole came trotting over to the four-poster.
“Where are your slippers, young lady?” Desiree chastised as she hauled Nicole up and under the covers with her.
Nicole promptly put her icy feet on Desiree’s thigh.
“Your feet are freezing!”
Nicole giggled.
Desiree took her daughter’s feet in her hands and rubbed them to warm them up. “Today’s the day Mr. Carter and I are getting married,” she reminded Nicole.
“Is he going to be my daddy now?”
“Uh-huh.” Desiree hadn’t asked how Carter felt about being called Daddy. Surely he wouldn’t mind. After all, being called Daddy didn’t require any effort on his part.
One of her major concerns over the past week had been how well Carter would get along with Nicole. During his visits he was brusque if forced to speak at all, but mostly he held himself aloof from Nicole. She supposed that was only natural for a man who apparently hadn’t spent time around children. And a man his age—he must be thirty-three or thirty-four—probably didn’t remember what it was like to be a child. Obviously he would need a little time to adjust.
Desiree glanced at the clock and realized that by the time she put a roast in the oven for their post-wedding dinner, she would barely have enough time to dress herself and Nicole and get into Casper before they were due in the judge’s chambers. “We’d better get moving, or we’re going to be late.”
Desiree took a deep breath and let it out. For better or worse, her decision had been made. Whatever price she had to pay for her own and her daughter’s safety was worth it. Marriage, even the duty of the marriage bed, was not too great a sacrifice.
Carter was having second thoughts of his own. He paced the empty hallway of the courthouse in Casper, waiting for his bride. The sound of his bootsteps on the marble floors echoed off the high ceilings. The loneliness of the years he had spent wandering kept him from bolting. Roots. Finally he had found a place where he could belong. He would settle down on the Rimrock and be a husband and father. Again.
He paused in midstep. The sudden tightness in his chest, the breathlessness he felt, made him angry. He should have put the past behind him long ago. Beginning today he would. He wouldn’t think about it anymore. He wouldn’t let it hurt him anymore. It was over and done.
He looked up, and there she was.
“Hello. I’m sorry I’m late,” Desiree said.
His gaze shifted quickly from the scar that twisted her smile to the first place he could think to look—his watch. “You’re right on time.”
“I didn’t think I’d make it. We were late getting up and—”
“Are you going to be my daddy?”
“Nicole!” Desiree clapped a hand over her daughter’s mouth. “She’s a little excited.”
“So am I,” Carter admitted with a wry smile. “Shall we get on with it?” He snagged Desiree by the elbow and headed in the direction of the judge’s chambers. She was wearing that moth-eaten coat again. He wondered what she had on under it. He didn’t have to wait long to satisfy his curiosity. The judge’s chambers were uncomfortably warm, and Desiree slipped the black wool off her shoulders and laid it over the back of a brass-studded maroon leather chair.
She smiled at Carter again, and he forced his eyes down over the flowered dress she was wearing. It was obviously the best she had, but wrong for the season, and it showed years of wear. He felt a spurt of guilt for not offering her the money for a new dress. But since she apparently didn’t know about his wealth, he preferred to keep it that way. Then, if feelings developed between them, he would be sure they weren’t motivated by the fact he had a deep pocket.
Desiree couldn’t take her eyes off Carter. She was stunned by his appearance. In the first place, he had shaved off the shadow of beard. His blunt jaw and sharp, high cheekbones gave his face an almost savage look. His tailored Western suit should have made him look civilized, but instead it emphasized the power in his broad shoulders and his over-six-foot height. “You look…wonderful,” she said.
