Stands a Calder Man (Calder Saga 2) - Page 45

“I . . . noticed the horses and wagon were gone,” he admitted.

“The truth is, Mr. Calder, you stopped because he wasn’t here.” She controlled her voice, taking all the sting out of it and making it hard with reason. Its very smoothness made the words penetrate and twist deeper inside him. “You deliberately came while I was alone. I am a married woman, Mr. Calder, and I do not entertain men visitors when my husband isn’t home. It is improper of you to expect that I should. Therefore, I must request that you leave, here and now.” But she wasn’t through. “And the next time you ride by and my husband isn’t about, don’t stop. Because if you do, I shall bar the door and refuse you any hospitality.”

In good conscience, Webb couldn’t argue with her. His position was indefensible, which made it all the harder to take. He was sore with an anger that was unjustified. She was within her rights to order him to leave.

“Why don’t you want me here, Lilli?” He deliberately used his nickname for her, challenging her reason for not wanting to see him. “Do I remind you too much that your husband is an old man?”

A raw anger blazed unchecked in her eyes. A split second later, she was swinging a hand at his face, and Webb made no attempt to avoid it, knowing he deserved it for the remark he had made. But it was no weak slap in the face. All her force was behind it and her hand packed power when it struck. It jarred him, sending black shafts of pain through his head, and unleashed what little control he had left.

In instinctive retaliation, Webb grabbed the wrist of the hand that had struck him. The first slap he had deserved, but he wouldn’t stand still for a second. After one attempt to twist out of his grip, she simply glared at him, her wrist straining against his hold. Webb could feel the angry tremors vibrating up through her arm. She knew she had no chance to best him in a physical struggle.

“Let me go or I will scream,” she threatened in a low, taut voice

.

The line of his mouth slanted in a hard smile. “That’s what you said at the dance, but you didn’t do it then, either.”

He reached for her waist, determined to prove he was right in thinking she wanted him here as much as he wanted to be here. He needed the confirmation in order to justify his own conduct. Her wild resistance was easily contained as his arms banded around her to trap her against his body.

With the roundness of her breasts hard against his chest and slim curves of her hips fitted to his loins, it ceased to matter that she carried another man’s name. It was a bitter thing to learn that, even sober, he had no conscience—no remorse at taking what belonged to another man.

Her lips tried to rebuff the possession of his mouth, but he persisted in his claim. He could feel the stiffness ebbing from her body and felt the swell of victory course through his blood. He eased the pressure of his hold and she stayed molded to him. This was his proof, undeniable evidence that he wasn’t wrong in believing she had wanted this.

When she slowly dragged her lips from his, Webb didn’t try to prevent it. Through eyes three-quarters lidded, he saw the yearning ache in her expression before she turned her head away from him and lowered her chin.

“Are you satisfied now, Mr. Calder?” The tortured sound in her voice cut him to the quick. All sense of elation was washed away as a tear was squeezed from her lashes. “Or have I not been sufficiently humiliated?”

“Lilli—” He wanted to tell her this wasn’t wrong, but it was and they both knew it. A raw, twisting frustration strangled any false assurance he might have given.

When she turned out of his arms, Webb was powerless to stop her. She walked to the open door, her head bowed as if unable to look at him, but there was something proud about her, too. And it was this he saw.

“Please go now,” she murmured in a voice that was almost emotionless. “And don’t come back.”

His mouth was grimly closed, a muscle flexing convulsively along his jaw. Webb was riddled with self-loathing as he picked up the hat he’d dropped and crossed to the door. His gaze slid off her face with its pale, composed lines. He’d never felt so low and contemptible in all his life as he did when he walked out that door to his horse.

He didn’t need to look to know Lilli was standing in the doorway. Some sixth sense had already relayed the knowledge. Grabbing the trailing reins to the bridle, Webb looped them over the black’s neck and hopped a foot into the stirrup, swinging into the saddle all in one motion. For a split second, Webb faced her. It seemed the die had been cast and his course set since the day he’d met her at the train station, only he hadn’t known it then. It was inevitable—just as it was inevitable that he had to ride away. There wasn’t anything lower than a wife-stealing man, and he’d sunk just about to the depths. He didn’t have much respect for himself, so she couldn’t have a very high opinion of him, either.

With a slight turn of his hand, Webb neck-reined the gelding away from the opened door and Lilli. As he was about to touch a spur to his horse, he heard the drum of cantering hooves and looked up to see three riders crossing the fallow ground to approach the homestead. All his senses came to a wary alert when he recognized Hobie Evans riding at the head. He lowered both hands to rest on the saddlehorn, not leaving until he found out what kind of business had brought Hobie Evans and two Snake M riders here.

As the three riders neared the shack, they slowed their horses to a snorting, head-tossing walk. There was a wide and wondering smile on Hobie’s expression, an interested and calculating gleam in his eye, as he advanced toward Webb.

“I sure never expected to run into you here, Webb,” he declared and ran an inspecting look over him. “What brings you this far off Triple C range?”

“I was about to ask you a similar question,” Webb returned smoothly, his gaze narrowing. He didn’t particularly like that knowing light in the man’s eyes or that laughing grin that was just an inch away from mockery.

“Were you, now?” Hobie glanced at his two accompanying riders. “Ain’t that interesting, boys?” Then he appeared to notice Lilli standing in the open doorway of the shack and removed his hat, holding it against his shoulder in a gesture of respect that didn’t ring true. “Well, howdy, ma’am.” He made an exaggerated show of sniffing the air. “That bread you’re baking sure does smell good.” She inclined her head in a brief and cautious acknowledgment, but remained silent. “Is your man home?” Hobie asked, yet seemed to know the answer.

Lilli flashed a short glance at Webb, her blue eyes clouded with apprehension, but her answer was simple and truthful. “No.”

Hobie urged his horse forward until he was alongside Webb, facing him almost knee to knee. The hat went back on his head, but it didn’t shade the glitter shining in his eyes. “What’s that white stuff all over your shirt, Webb?” he challenged mockingly. Webb’s muscles went all tense. “Damned if it doesn’t look like flour,” Hobie declared and eyed him with a knowing gleam. “I guess you been helping her make bread, huh?”

Webb’s hand curled around the saddlehorn. He didn’t look to confirm the observation that his shirt had flour smears from Lilli’s apron. He wanted to jam his fist down Hobie’s throat and blacken those damning eyes that saw too much.

“State your business, Hobie.” He pound out the order through his gritted teeth.

“You speak like you’re standing on your pa’s land, but you got no rights here, Calder,” Hobie reminded him, and took pleasure from it.

“I’m telling you to say what you came for,” Webb warned, ready to back it up if he had to.

Tags: Janet Dailey Calder Saga Romance
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