Falcon, p.8
Falcon, page 8
She had stuck patterned pillows on the leather couch to break up the somber expanse and rearranged nearly every vase into a different arched cubbyhole. The heavy curtains in the living room had been removed so the sunshine filtered in during the day, and gingham curtains had been added for color in the kitchen.
The whole house sparkled with cleanliness. She hadn’t been kidding about her ability as a housekeeper. Which should have made him less nervous about her bookkeeping talents, but somehow didn’t.
Mara hadn’t completely rearranged his office. He could—and would—have complained if she had. She had been more subtle than that, making small changes, a book moved here, a file moved there. Of course, the spurs and halter he had been repairing had been relegated to a worktable in the pantry off the kitchen.
It wasn’t until he sat down next to Mara at the computer that he realized what significant changes she had made in his bookkeeping system. She showed him how she had organized his files so he could see which stud had covered which mare, which cows had been inseminated by which bull. Amounts of grain that had been fed, and increase in weight on the hoof, were also calculated for his beef cattle.
“This is incredible! How did you learn to do this?” he asked.
“I told you I grew up at my mother’s knee. I spent a lot of time looking over my father’s shoulder, too,” she said with a cheeky grin.
“I’m impressed. Why haven’t you ever gotten a job doing this for some rancher?”
“I don’t have a college degree,” she admitted. “I had just finished my first year of school when I found out Susannah was sick.”
Falcon was thinking she didn’t need a degree to do his bookkeeping. But he could see that if something ever happened to him, she might need an education. “You should go back and finish,” he said.
“I can’t until I know Susannah is well.”
“With any luck, we’ll get good news tomorrow. I think you should plan to go back this fall, Mara. I can hire someone to take care of Susannah while you’re in class.”
“I already owe you too much.”
“You don’t owe me anything,” Falcon said. “I’ve done what I’ve done because I wanted to do it. I wish you’d get it out of your head that you have to pay me back.”
Falcon didn’t breathe, he didn’t move. On second thought, there was something she could do for him. She had presented him with the perfect opportunity to ask for what he wanted from her without giving her an ultimatum.
“There is something you can do for me,” he said.
“What?” Mara asked.
He hesitated, then took the plunge. “I need a woman, Mara. You’re my wife. I want to sleep with you.”
She hissed out a breath, but didn’t say anything right away.
He reached out and caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. Her eyelids slid closed. Her teeth caught her lower lip and began to worry it.
“I want to give you what you want,” she said. “I know I owe you—”
Falcon jerked his hand away, and Mara’s eyes flashed open. He rose to his feet and towered over her. The muscles in his jaw worked as he gritted his teeth. “If that’s the best you can do, forget it.”
She leapt to her feet and grabbed his arm to keep him from leaving. “I’m trying! I have needs, too,” she admitted in a choked voice. “But I can’t forget who you are. Don’t you understand? I loved Grant. And because of you, he’s dead.”
“Grant was a drunk who killed himself in a car wreck!” Falcon snarled.
All the blood left Mara’s face. “Who told you Grant was a drunk?”
Falcon stared at her, not sure what had upset her so much.
“Who told you Grant was an alcoholic?” she insisted.
“An alcoholic? Was he?” Falcon asked, dumbfounded.
Mara covered her mouth with her hand. She hadn’t ever said the words aloud. Not to anyone. She had lived with Grant, realized he had a weakness, and tried to pretend it didn’t exist.
Falcon grabbed her by the arms. “Are you telling me that you’ve blamed me for Grant’s death all this time when you knew he had a drinking problem?”
“He didn’t have a problem—”
“Tell me the truth!”
“Yes! Yes, I blame you. He was going to AA meetings. He had quit for almost six months before he ran into you.”
“Is that why he lost all those jobs?” Falcon asked. “Was he drinking on the job?”
“I don’t know,” Mara admitted miserably. “He gave different reasons for why he was let go.”
“And you never checked?” Facon demanded.
“I trusted him!” she said fiercely. There were tears in her eyes that betrayed the truth. The first time, or maybe the second, Grant had been able to fool her. But by the sixth or seventh time he was fired, she’d had no illusions left.
“How could you love a man like that?” Falcon asked, truly puzzled by her devotion to someone who must have caused her untold pain.
She shrugged helplessly. “He was a good father.” When he wasn’t drinking. “And a good husband.” When he wasn’t drunk and chasing other women.
Mara couldn’t meet Falcon’s intent stare and lie anymore. To him or to herself. It had been easier to blame Falcon than to admit Grant’s weakness. Easier to blame Falcon than to admit her own culpability. Because, when all was said and done, she was responsible for Grant’s death.
She had known he had a drinking problem. She should have watched him more closely. She should have gone with him.
Mara knew that sort of thinking was irrational. She had read enough since Grant’s death, and learned enough in college psychology and sociology classes she had taken, to understand that Grant was responsible for his own behavior. But she couldn’t shake her feelings of guilt. She should have been able to save Grant. And she had failed.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Falcon said in a quiet voice.
Mara’s head jerked up, and she sought Falcon’s eyes.
“He was an alcoholic. It was his problem. You aren’t to blame.”
“How did you know…”
“That you blame yourself?”
She nodded.
“Because I couldn’t help thinking there was something I could have done to prevent Grant’s death. Maybe if I’d noticed how much he was drinking…” Falcon thrust a hand through his hair. “Maybe if I hadn’t left that twenty on the table…Maybe if I had stayed with him and made sure he didn’t drive home drunk….”
“That’s a lot of ‘maybe’s,’” Mara said.
“Don’t I know it!”
“I feel the same way,” Mara admitted. “I was his wife. I should have known better.
“After we left you that day, I begged him to call you up and meet somewhere, anywhere besides a bar. He said it was too late for that. He didn’t know where to find you to make other arrangements. And he swore he wouldn’t be tempted. He swore he wouldn’t drink anything stronger than club soda. He had been sober for months before that night, so I believed him. I should have known he wouldn’t be able to resist a drink when it was offered to him, especially since he wanted to keep his alcoholism a secret from you. I should have made arrangements to pick him up.”
“What about Grant? Doesn’t he deserve some of the blame for what happened?” Falcon asked. “Maybe more than some,” he amended.
Mara thought of all the ugly things she had said to Falcon, all the accusations she had heaped on his shoulders. “I owe you an apology,” she said. “Some of the things I said…”
“Apology accepted,” Falcon said.
Mara felt awkward. All her animosity toward Falcon had been based on his irresponsible behavior at the bar that had resulted in Grant’s death. Bereft of antagonism, she wasn’t sure how to interact with him.
“Can we start over from here?” Falcon asked.
“Can you ever forgive me—”
“Can you forgive me?”
Mara exhaled a ragged sigh. “I’m so sorry, Falcon. For everything I said. I was horrible.”
“You were,” Falcon agreed.
When her eyes widened in surprise, his lips curled in a roguish grin.
“Sorry,” he said. “I couldn’t resist.”
“Behave yourself,” she chided.
They were teasing each other, Mara realized. It was a start. A very good start.
Mara knew there was one way she could show Falcon he was truly forgiven. He had told her what he wanted from her. And if she was going to be honest, she wanted it, too. She reached out, her hand palm up.
“I’m tired,” she said. “Let’s go to bed.”
Falcon arched a brow, but threaded his fingers through hers. “My room?”
She nodded. She didn’t want to take a chance on disturbing Susannah. Or on having to explain to Susannah why she was suddenly sleeping with Falcon.
Mara felt unaccountably shy. “This feels strange,” she admitted.
“I know what you mean,” Falcon said with a rueful twist of his mouth. “I’ve been wanting to make love to you for weeks. Ever since—”
“Don’t remind me,” she said, putting a hand to one rosy cheek. “I was an absolute wanton.”
“I didn’t have any complaints,” Falcon said with a grin. When they got to the living room, he tugged on Mara’s hand and she followed him around to the couch. He pulled her into his lap and sat there holding her.
She laid her head on his shoulder and let her hand slide around his waist.
“I’ve been needing this,” Falcon said.
“And not the other?” Mara teased.
“Oh, I want that, too. But it can wait.”
Mara felt a pleasant sense of expectation. She had been afraid, when she had agreed to give Falcon what he wanted, that he would rush her into bed. She was glad to see he was willing to take his time. She sighed.
“What was that for?” Falcon asked.
“I was just thinking about how badly I’ve misjudged you.”
“So I’m not an irresponsible ne’er-do-well?”
“You did fritter away your fortune,” she said.
Falcon stiffened. There was that. He might not have murdered her husband, but he still was not the sort of solid person she might have chosen for a husband. Especially after the bad experience she’d apparently had with Grant. His arms tightened around her. He had done nothing over the past ten weeks to prove he would be a better husband to her than Grant.
Except he had stopped drinking and carousing and spending money like it was water. That had to count for something. He hadn’t missed any of those things, either, Falcon realized. Nothing mattered as much to him as Mara. And Susannah. There had to be a way to convince her they belonged together as a family.
“I hadn’t planned ever to marry again,” Mara admitted.
He didn’t want to hear this.
Falcon pressed a kiss to Mara’s nape to distract her and felt her shiver. He kissed his way up her throat to her ear and teased the delicate shell with his tongue.
Her hand slid down to the hard bulge in his jeans. She traced the length of him through the denim with her fingertips. He drew in a breath of air and held it.
“Mara,” he whispered in her ear.
“Yes, Falcon.”
“Sweetheart, let’s go to bed.”
She didn’t answer with words, just rose and headed for his bedroom, leaving him to follow behind her.
Mara knew she was asking for heartache. The more attached she let herself get to Falcon, the harder it was going to be to leave him when Susannah was well. The truth was, she was terrified of getting involved with another man. Falcon hadn’t gotten drunk during the past couple of months, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t revert to his former behavior sometime in the future. Grant had been sober for months at a time during their eight-year marriage. She didn’t yet trust Falcon not to become another Grant.
There was still the awful uncertainty about whether Susannah would survive. And there were no guarantees Falcon wouldn’t be claimed by an accident working on the ranch, or driving in his car. How could she dare make any kind of commitment to another human being who might be taken from her?
But, oh, how she was tempted to throw caution to the winds. The more time she spent with Falcon, the more feelings she had for him. He was funny and generous and gave of himself wholeheartedly. He was compassionate and caring. He was a scintillating lover. Such a man would make some woman a very good husband. He just happened to be hers at the moment.
She knew it had been unfair to expect Falcon to remain celibate during their marriage. She owed him tonight, at least. But she wasn’t promising more. She couldn’t promise more.
Mara stood at the foot of Falcon’s bed feeling awkward, uncertain what to do next. Their previous coupling had been a frenzied thing, more an act of desperation than anything else. She had needed solace and forgetfulness, and Falcon had provided those things in lovemaking that was so passionate it had taken away all thought and left only feeling.
Mara didn’t know what to expect now.
Falcon was also aware of how different their joining together was this time. He wanted to show Mara the tenderness he felt, as well as the ardent passion.
“May I undress you?” he asked.
Mara nodded, suddenly shy. Although she didn’t know why that should be. He had seen everything before. But she realized, as Falcon slowly undressed her, admiring her with his eyes and his hands and his mouth, that there had been no time before to truly appreciate each other’s bodies.
“I want to touch you, too,” she told him.
He shook his head. “It would be too distracting. I wouldn’t be able to enjoy what I’m doing.”
As his mouth closed around a nipple and he suckled, she surrendered to his ministrations. His hands caressed her skin, and the roughness of his callused fingertips raised frissons of sensation wherever they coursed.
Falcon tried to tell Mara with his hands and his mouth how much he adored her, how much she meant to him, how necessary she was to his very life. He wished he was better with words so he could tell her how he felt. Of course the word love never entered his head. He couldn’t think such thoughts when he knew she hated him. But she had forgiven him. She had no reason to hate him anymore.
Mara was amazed at how her body responded to the touch of Falcon’s hands, the feel of his lips on her skin. She experienced things Grant had never made her feel in eight years of marriage. How was she able to find so much pleasure in the arms of another man?
Mara stiffened imperceptibly, but Falcon was sensitive enough to her response to know something had gone wrong. She was no longer giving herself up to his caresses as she had been a moment before.
“Mara?” he murmured in her ear.
She gripped his waist tightly with both hands and for a moment he wasn’t sure whether she was going to pull him close or shove him away. Then her arms slid around him.
“Hold me, Falcon,” she said. “Make love to me.”
“I will, darling. I am.”
Falcon meant what he said. He was making love to Mara. But when he had her under him, and when he had brought her to satisfaction, he did not feel like shouting with joy. He felt like crying instead. Because he knew that what he was feeling for her was all one-sided. He had made love to her. She had submitted to having sex with him.
He tried not to let the despair overwhelm him. There was still time to win her love. There was still time for a happy ending.
He was torn, because as much as he wanted Susannah to be well, he knew her recovery heralded the end of his time with Mara. He would have to find a way, and soon, to convince Mara that she couldn’t live without him.
Because he knew now he couldn’t live without her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
OVER THE MONTHS he had been forced to stay close to the B-Bar because of his responsibilities toward Mara and Susannah, Falcon had made an astounding discovery.
He liked being a rancher.
His skin had browned in the Texas sunshine, and a fine spray of sun lines edged his blue eyes. His hands had been callused before, but now they were work-hardened. His body had been honed by hard physical labor until he was a creature of muscle and bone and sinew.
He had made hard decisions, and most of them had turned out right. A recent visit to his accountant had confirmed what he already knew. His attention to the details of running the B-Bar was making a difference. Things functioned more smoothly. There was less waste. And the profit margin on the sale of his cattle and horses was higher. To add sugar to the pie, one of the risky investments Aaron had advised him against making had started paying huge dividends.
“If you keep this up, you’re going to be rich again,” Aaron teased.
Only, it looked like he wasn’t going need any of his reacquired wealth to pay medical bills.
Susannah was in remission.
The induction therapy had worked more quickly and efficiently than even Dr. Sortino had hoped. It had only taken ten weeks for Susannah’s white blood cells to register normal.
Falcon was amazed at what a difference good health made to Susannah’s behavior. She sparkled, she fizzed, she had an absolutely effervescent personality. She was tremendous fun to be with. Falcon teased Susannah that she was so bouncy she was liable to take off someday and go right through the ceiling.
“I don’t want to sit still ever again,” Susannah said.
“Not even to eat supper?” Falcon had asked.
“Well, maybe for that,” she conceded, stuffing a man-sized spoonful of mashed potatoes into her mouth.
When Falcon looked to Mara, to share the humor of the situation, he found her brow furrowed, her eyes dark and despairing. Despite Susannah’s good health, Mara didn’t appear happy. Falcon dragged her away to the living room after supper to find out what was bothering her. He settled her on the couch and sat down on the coffee table across from her.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I want to expect the best, that Susannah is out of deep water,” Mara said. “But I can’t help dreading the worst, that her good health is a mirage that’s going to disappear if I take my eyes off her.”
