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“The Devil’s Dining Room,” he said, dismounting.
Lyric did the same and ground-hitched her horse when he did. Trevor let her step up on a boulder, then onto a giant flat piece of granite that jutted over the cliff before he climbed up.
When he sat on the ledge and let his legs dangle over the side, she did, too, although not without misgivings.
“This rock has held all the Daltons at once without falling,” he told her.
“There’s always a first time,” she muttered, staring down into the lovely little valley. The ranch house looked like something for a doll from up here.
Gazing west, she observed the peaks spread out into the distance. “In Texas, you said the seven peaks were named for seven devils that used to come over and eat the children of the people here until Coyote changed them into mountains.”
“That’s the legend,” he agreed.
“He-Devil is the tallest. I saw the name on a road sign. Do the others have names?”
“The Devil’s Tooth, Mount Ogre, Mount Baal, the Tower of Babel, the Goblin.”
“That’s five, plus He-Devil. What’s the other one?”
He turned those blue eyes on her. Without blinking, he said, “She-Devil.”
It was the breeze, playfully tugging at their hats that finally broke their locked gazes and the silent struggle between them.
“Is that what you think of me?” she asked softly, as if by speaking the words that way, the answer might not hurt.
He set his hat more firmly on his head. “Does it matter?”
“Yes.”
Glancing at her once more, he shrugged and rose. “Let’s just say I don’t think much of a woman who kisses one man while engaged to another.” He leaped down to the smaller boulder, then to the ground.
Lyric stood on the hunk of granite and contemplated several retorts. None seemed worthy.
“Didn’t you get my letter?” she finally asked when she, too, stood on the ground by the boulders.
He nodded without looking at her.
In the letter she’d tried to explain why her mother had thought she was engaged and why she really hadn’t been. She tried again. “Lyle and I were at an impasse. He wanted to announce a wedding date. I wasn’t sure enough about us to do that. We weren’t engaged, not really.”
“So you strung him along, then while he was out of town you experimented with me. You must have decided it was real. You stayed with him.”
“Because he needed me.”
“Yeah,” Trevor said with undisguised bitterness. “He needed you, so you stayed.”
“Trevor—”
“The car wreck wasn’t all that serious, according to the news later that evening. It didn’t kill him or maim him or call for a life-or-death operation, did it?”
She hesitated. “No,” she said. “It didn’t.”
“But you stayed with him. Where’s your engagement ring?” he demanded, lifting her hand and holding it between them so they could both see her bare finger. He dropped it as if it might contaminate him with something dreadful.
“At home.”
“Your mother said you’d set a wedding date. In June, she said.”
Lyric stared at him. “You called? When?” She clutched his arm at his nod. “Trevor, when?”
“After I got the letter. Apparently you’d changed your mind about the marriage.” He pulled away from her grasp.
“She didn’t tell me about the call.”
“I told her not to. I didn’t figure it would make any difference.” He started toward the horses, then paused. “Would it?” he asked. “Would it have made a difference if we’d spoken? Would you have broken the engagement and come to me…if I’d asked?”
She thought of silent, endless nights at the hospital, of days at Lyle’s bedside when he went home, him thinking he was going to be all right, that they would marry and produce an heir to the two ranches.
We’ll have children right away, he’d said one afternoon toward the end. Would you rub my head? These damn headaches seem to be getting worse instead of better.
His mother hadn’t wanted him to know the truth. She’d wanted his final days to be happy ones, filled with plans for the future. He didn’t seem to realize he was slipping further and further away as feeling began to leave his body.
He hadn’t even noticed when he’d closed a car door on his hand. Lyric had been horrified but had managed to hide it as she released his hand and settled him on the terrace before running to the kitchen for a towel and ice to go on his injury.
He’d become more and more docile as the days wore on, and then he hadn’t wanted her out of his sight during the last weeks. She’d slept on a sofa in his room. Often she’d held him propped up in her arms when his breathing became labored and weak. Then one night he’d whispered, “Thank you for loving me.”
Those were the last words he spoke. He’d lapsed into a coma and was gone several hours later.
Studying the strong, healthy man who glared at her as he waited for an answer, she sighed and said softly, “No, I couldn’t have come then.”
His face hardened. “Then why the hell did you come now?”
Chapter Three
Later that morning, Lyric followed Trevor into town. The station wagon still handled just fine. She’d wanted to wait until she returned to Texas to have it fixed, but Trevor and his uncle wouldn’t hear of it.
At the local garage—there was only one—Trevor and the owner examined her car and decided to replace the bumper and the used air bags and to smooth out the crinkle in the nose.
“I’ll give you my insurance information,” she said, digging into her purse for the card.
Trevor shook his head. “There’s no need. I caused the accident. I’ll take care of the bill.”
“But that’s what insurance is for,” she protested.
“It’s my responsibility,” he insisted.
The garage owner observed their argument in amusement, then nodded when she finally shut up and let Trevor have his way, since it was clear he wasn’t giving up. While the men made the final arrangements on repairs, she stepped on the running board of Trevor’s pickup with a little groan. She seemed to be getting stiffer by the minute.
His hands immediately settled at her waist and lifted her into the cab of the truck. Her skin burned as his heat penetrated her clothing and settled deep inside her.
To her shock, she realized she wanted him…really wanted him. Now. This instant. Longing and need entwined all through her. She wanted passion, yes, but she also wanted comforting. She needed his strength. More than that, she needed his tender, loving care.
Not that he would offer it, she admitted. She was foolish to think she would get another chance with him.
“You’d better relax before your face sets that way,” he said when they were on their way.
She frowned at him. “Your twin said you were stubborn. I didn’t realize how much.”
Trevor shrugged. “You ran off the road because I cut you off. I take care of my mistakes.”
“Or walk out on them,” she added.
He gave her a warning glance that said, “Drop it.”
“Isn’t that what you did to me? You thought of our time together as a mistake.”
“For good reason. I never encroach on another man’s territory.”
“I’m not a piece of property to be bought and sold. Or fenced off by some possessive male.”
“Fine. You’re free as a bird as far as I’m concerned.”
“Fine,” she said, and stared at the road without looking in his direction again.
Instead of taking the road to the ranch, he turned onto another one running alongside the reservoir that formed a long, narrow recreational lake and supplied the town’s water. The water reflected the sky.
The valley was cupped protectively in the palm of the surrounding mountains. It looked too peaceful and lovely to be real. For her it wasn’t. Sadness gripped her heart.
Get over it, she advised, rejecting self-pity.
Trevor pulled into the parking lot of a lodge that looked new. “I thought we would have lunch here.”
Stifling a protest, she got out before he could help her and joined him on a flagstone path to the front steps.
She felt every movement as a separate pain in each muscle of her body. When he took her arm to help her as they climbed to the broad porch, she couldn’t help but flinch.
He paused on the wooden planks and studied her face. “Sore?” he asked.
“Everywhere,” she replied with a smile and a little shrug. A mistake, that. The pain was immediate. Her hand went automatically to her left shoulder.
Trevor frowned, then eased the collar of her shirt away from her neck. “The seat belt,” he murmured. “The collarbone may be broken. We’ll go see Beau.” He paused. “You shouldn’t have ridden this morning. If you’d been thrown, your injuries could have been compounded. And serious.”
“I wasn’t, so I’m fine,” she said stoically. “I don’t need to see a doctor.”
He stared into her eyes like Diogenes searching for one honest person. “Let’s go eat,” he at last said huskily.
“This is lovely,” she said when they entered the soaring, two-story lobby. A huge fireplace was filled with fragrant pine and cedar boughs, ready for a spark to set it flaming. She imagined snow outside, the warm fire inside and a lazy afternoon of lying on the sofa and reading.
Images sprang to her mind of a couple taking their ease there, then laying their books aside and turning to each other, unable to stand another moment without touching.
Lyric sighed shakily and forced the mental scene away. Trevor still held her arm. Using gentle pressure, he guided her into the dining room.
“Lovely,” she repeated when they were seated. Their window had a view of the lake and the mountains. “The lodge is new, isn’t it?”
He nodded. “We opened a couple of months ago.”
“It belongs to you?”
“To the family. My brothers and I, plus our three cousins, put up the money and did most of the construction this past year. The logs came from the ranch. We cut and milled the lumber ourselves.”
“My family worked together on the ranch. It was fun.” She fell silent, recalling her parents’ divorce last year. The shock of it. The bewilderment that thirty years could go down the drain without explanation.
With all their children out of the nest—Lyric was working and had her own place while one brother was a college junior and the other a freshman—their parents had called it quits. They’d admitted the marriage had been in trouble for a long time but they’d concealed it until the youngest child graduated from high school before going their separate ways. The boys had been just as shocked as Lyric.
So much for romantic illusions. She wasn’t sure she believed anyone lived “happily ever after” anymore. Two of her friends from school had already split after less than three years of marriage.
She let out a ragged breath composed of equal parts dismay and disillusionment. She really had been foolish to traipse all the way to Idaho chasing after a dream.
Trevor gave her a piercing glance, then his eyes went back to the menu the hostess had given them. The waitress brought the tall glasses of iced tea they’d requested, took their orders and quietly left.
“So why was your mother living in Austin?” he asked. “I thought they were divorced.”
What had they been talking about? Oh, yes, her family. “They were. They are. Last year.”
She sipped the cool tea, worry eating at her. She hated for things to go wrong. Her aunt said she was too soft-hearted. She didn’t know about that, but problems bothered her until she found solutions.
A wry smile settled briefly on her mouth. Perhaps she wanted the standard fairy-tale ending too much.
“Tell me the truth,” she requested. “Did you ask your uncle to include me in the invitation to the ranch?”
His eyes reflected the brilliant blue of the lake and sky. “No.”
Well, she’d asked. Just to be sure. Just so there wouldn’t be any lingering hope on her part.
Her throat tightened so that it was difficult to swallow or to speak. She nodded and smiled at the man who watched her with the fierce stare of a hawk. His gaze held none of the warmth or humor or desire of last fall.
She considered telling him about the final days of winter and that she couldn’t have come to him in April or May or June while the grief over her lifelong friend was still so strong. They’d set June the fifteenth as the wedding date. She’d had to get past that first.
However, one look at Trevor’s harsh expression told her he wasn’t ready to listen, and she couldn’t bring herself to plead for his understanding. So she would leave at the end of the month with her aunt.
But if the attraction blossomed again, some part of her added, then perhaps she and Trevor could talk and sort out their feelings. In the meantime, she wanted him to know she wasn’t there under any pretenses.
“I’m not engaged, Trevor,” she said softly, “not since early in March.”
“Another sucker bites the dust,” he muttered with a sardonic snort of laughter.
Lyric turned toward the scene outside the restaurant. She studied the view until the swift tempest of emotion passed and the pieces of her heart were pasted together once more. She wouldn’t try to explain the past to him again. She just wouldn’t.
When the waitress brought their meal, they ate in silence and left immediately thereafter.
