Diana Palmer Christmas Collection: The Rancher / Christmas Cowboy / A Man of Means / True Blue / Carrera's Bride / Will of Steel / Winter Roses

“She will.”

She let out an exasperated sigh. “I can’t make a decision that important in a few seconds,” she told him. “I have to think about it.”

“Take your time,” he replied. “Nobody’s rushing you.”

“It would be lovely if you came back, though,” Abby said with a smile. “No matter how many friends we have, we can always use one more.”

“Exactly,” Corrigan told her. His eyes narrowed. “Of course, you needn’t consider me in your decision. I’m not trying to get you to come back for my sake. But I’m sure there are plenty of other bachelors left around here who’d be delighted to give you a whirl, if you needed an incentive.”

His lean face was so hard and closed that not one flicker of emotion got away from it.

Abby was eyeing him curiously, but she didn’t say a word, not even when her gaze fell to his hand on the silver knob of the cane and saw it go white from the pressure.

He eased up on the handle, just the same. “Well?”

“I’d like to,” Dorie said quietly. She didn’t look at him. Odd, how his statement had hurt, after all those years. She looked back on the past with desperation these days, wondering how her life would have been if she hadn’t resisted him that night he’d tried to carry her to bed.

She hadn’t wanted an affair, but he was an honorable man, in his fashion. Perhaps he would have followed up with a proposal, despite his obvious distaste for the married state. Or perhaps he wouldn’t have. There might have been a child…

She grimaced and lifted the cup of chocolate to her lips. It was tepid and vaguely distasteful.

“Go see Clarisse, why don’t you?” he added. “You’ve nothing to lose, and a lot to gain. She’s a sweet woman. You’ll like her.”

Did he? She didn’t dare wonder about that, or voice her curiosity. “I might do that,” she replied.

The tap of the cane seemed unusually loud as he turned back to the door. “Give the brothers my best,” Corrigan told Abby. He nodded and was gone.

Only then did Dorie look up, her eyes on his tall, muscular body as he walked carefully back to the big double-cabbed black ranch pickup truck he drove.

“What happened to him?” Dorie asked.

Abby sipped her own hot chocolate before she answered. “It happened the week after you left town. He went on a hunting trip in Montana with some other men. During a heavy, late spring snow, Corrigan and another man went off on their own in a four-wheeldrive utility vehicle to scout another section of the hunting range.”

“And?” Dorie prompted.

“The truck went over a steep incline and overturned. The other man was killed outright. Corrigan was pinned and couldn’t get free. He lay there most of the night and into the next day before the party came looking for them and found him. By that time, he was unconscious. The impact broke his leg in two places, and he had frostbite as well. He almost died.”

Dorie caught her breath. “How horrible!”

“They wanted to amputate the leg, but…” she shrugged. “He refused them permission to operate, so they did the best they could. The leg is usable, just, but it will always be stiff. They said later that it was a miracle he didn’t lose any toes. He had just enough sense left to wrap himself in one of those thin thermal sheets the men had carried on the trip. It saved him from a dangerous frostbite.”

“Poor man.”

“Oh, don’t make that mistake,” Abby mused. “Nobody is allowed to pity Corrigan Hart. Just ask his brothers.”

“All the same, he never seemed the sort of man to lose control of anything, not even a truck.”

“He wasn’t himself but he didn’t lose control, either.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Abby grimaced. “He and the other man, the one who was driving, had been drinking. He blamed himself not only for the wreck, but for the other man’s death. He knew the man wasn’t fit to drive but he didn’t try to stop him. They say he’s been punishing himself ever since. That’s why he never comes into town, or has any social life. He’s withdrawn into himself and nobody can drag him back out. He’s become a hermit.”

“But, why?”

“Why was he drinking, you mean?” Abby said, and Dorie nodded. Still, Abby hesitated to put it into words.

“Tell me,” came the persistent nudge from Dorie.

Abby’s eyes were apologetic. “Nobody knows, really. But the gossip was that he was trying to get over losing you.”

Chapter Two (#ulink_1d771bf1-6d8e-57e3-8c49-8e84192f696a)

“But he wanted to lose me,” Dorie exclaimed, shocked. “He couldn’t get out of my house fast enough when I refused…refused him,” she blurted. She clasped her hands together. “He accused me of being frigid and a tease…”

“Corrigan was a rounder, Dorie,” Abby said gently. “In this modern age, even in Jacobsville, a lot of girls are pretty sophisticated at eighteen. He wouldn’t have known about your father being a minister, because he’d retired from the church before the Harts came to take over their grandfather’s ranch. He was probably surprised to find you less accommodating than other girls.”

“Surprised wasn’t the word,” Dorie said miserably. “He was furious.”

“He did go to the bus depot when you left.”

“How did you know that?”

“Everybody talked about it,” Abby admitted. “It was generally thought that he went there to stop you.”

“He didn’t say a word,” came the quiet reply. “Not one word.”

“Maybe he didn’t know what to say. He was probably embarrassed and upset about the way he’d treated you. A man like that might not know what to do with an innocent girl.”

Dorie laughed bitterly. “Sure he did. You see her off and hope she won’t come back. He told me that he had no intention of marrying.”

“He could have changed his mind.”

Dorie shook her head. “Not a chance. He never talked about us being a couple. He kept reminding me that I was young and that he liked variety. He said that we shouldn’t think of each other in any serious way, but just enjoy each other while it lasted.”

“That sounds like a Hart, all right,” Abby had to admit. “They’re all like Corrigan. Apparently they have a collective bad attitude toward women and think of them as minor amusements.”

“He picked on the wrong girl,” Dorie said. She finished her hot chocolate. “I’d never even had a real boyfriend when he came along. He was so forceful and demanding and inflexible, so devoid of tenderness when he was with me.” She huddled closer into her sweater. “He came at me like a rocket. I couldn’t run, I couldn’t hide, he just kept coming.” Her eyes closed on a long sigh. “Oh, Abby, he scared me to death. I’d been raised in a such a way that I couldn’t have an affair, and I knew that was all he wanted. I ran, and kept running. Now I can’t stop.”

“You could, if you wanted to.”

“The only way I’d come back is with a written guarantee that he wanted nothing more to do with me,” she said with a cold laugh. “Otherwise, I’d never feel safe here.”

“He just told you himself that he had no designs on you,” Abby reminded her. “He has other interests.”

“Does he? Other…women interests?”

Abby clasped her fingers together on the table. “He goes out with a rich divorcée when he’s in need of company,” she said. “That’s been going on for a long time now. He probably was telling the truth when he said that he wouldn’t bother you. After all, it’s been eight years.” She studied the other woman. “You want to come home, don’t you?”