“Stop that, Lance Calder!” Summer stamped her foot in irritation. “You’re as good as any man in this state!”
His narrowed gaze fixed on her. “What does that have to say to anything? Red skin has a way of blinding people. To the upstanding citizens around here, I’ll never be more than a breed.”
“You could make them accept you. Prove to them you belong.”
Not replying, he picked up a piece of burlap and began giving the horses a light rubdown.
Summer took a deep breath, prepared to toughen her arguments. “You married me to help you gain respectability. Well, this is your chance.”
That brought absolutely no response.
She tried again. “If you turn your back on all our neighbors, they’ll have no reason to welcome you. It will get awfully lonesome year after year, with no one to talk to, to share joys and sorrows with.”
“I don’t need them or their favors,” he ground out, his voice rough with emotion.
“So you mean to remain an outcast all your life?”
“Maybe not, but I’ll be damned if I’ll grovel!”
His dark eyes glowered at her, fierce and smoldering, but Summer stood her ground. “Did I hear anyone ask you to grovel?” Before he could reply, she tossed her head. “All right, do as you like. But…” Her expression softened, as did her voice. “Do you really think it’s fair to make me an outcast along with you?”
This time she didn’t give him a chance to respond, but turned and left the barn, leaving Lance to stare after her.
It was a low blow, he thought, squeezing his eyes shut. His beautiful, manipulative temptress of a wife didn’t need feminine wiles as long as she could play on his guilt. All Summer had to do was remind him of the difficult position he’d put her in by marrying her, and he felt like pond scum.
She was wrong about why he’d married her, though. He’d done it, not just because he wanted respectability, but because he loved her, because he’d seen a desperate chance to grab his dream and he’d taken it.
She was right, though, about his stiff-necked pride. He was too proud to let himself in for the reception he’d get if he went to her damned barbecue. Too proud to let Summer know how he felt about her. To let her see how much he wanted her—Hell, who was he kidding? The line had long ago vanished between what he wanted and what he needed. He needed her like the air he breathed.
She was right about him being afraid, too, but his fear wasn’t really for him. He was afraid of how Summer would be received by their neighbors. He didn’t want her to have to face what his mother had endured. At least here on the ranch she was surrounded by her family and hired help who loved her. He couldn’t keep her safe forever, yet he owed it to Summer to make the effort. To make something of their marriage.
She sure had tried. She had done her best to hold up her end of the bargain. She’d proved as stubborn as she accused him of being, fighting to hold her family and ranch together, challenging him to take his rightful place as her husband and part owner of Sky Valley.
She’d denied him nothing, not even in bed. Sex with her had only grown in intensity and passion and boldness—and God help him, it had only made his need for her worse. His hunger for her body had only increased. He was aroused by nothing more than the straight, slender line of her back, or a careless smile sent his way.
And yet he wanted more than just her body. He wanted all of her. He wanted to know how she felt, what she thought, what she cared about. He wanted to learn about her hopes, her dreams.
And God knew he wanted to see her happy. She was far too serious since war and death had ripped her life apart. He wanted her back, the beautiful, vital girl he had fallen for so many years ago. He wanted to see her laughing and teasing and even flirting, just like the old Summer. A party would make her happy.
He had done little to make it easy for her up till now. But it wasn’t too late. He could meet her halfway. He could try to give her reason to be, if not happy, then at least content with their marriage. Hell, he’d already planned to do just that. Just yesterday he’d vowed he would make an effort to change. He would do his damnedest to control his vicious temper, at least. And he would try to woo Summer with tenderness, if he could.
He knew she didn’t love him—not yet, anyway. But maybe, one day, she might come to look upon their marriage as something other than an obligation she regretted.
An honorable man would have given her up before putting her through the hell she would face as his wife. But he couldn’t make himself do it. He might as well cut out his heart while he was at it. Summer was the one thing in his life that was warm and real and made life worth living. When he held her in his arms, he could almost believe his dreams were in reach. A place of his own where he could do work he loved best. A wife who would stand by him. Acceptance by the white community. But more important than any of that, Summer. His Summer.
This morning, when he’d taken her to see the land where he hoped to build their house, he’d felt so close to achieving everything he wanted. For a few hours he had forgotten all the things that threatened him. His Comanche blood. Their neighbors. Her sister.
He could see the hurt in Summer’s eyes whenever she thought of her sister. It was because of him that Amelia had turned against her. He only hoped to God his presence didn’t cause a permanent break between them.
And if it did? Would Summer come to hate him for it?
He couldn’t make himself think that far ahead.
Still, he had to decide how to answer her. What she wanted from him was simple enough. Take her to a barbecue. Endure the disdainful looks and maybe the slurs that were sure to greet him. Keep a tight rein on his temper, no matter what the provocation.
Simple enough.
Goddammit, he couldn’t deny her this one thing.