Christmas On The Range: Winter Roses

“That goes double for me. I didn’t know you were on the place,” he added curtly. “My sister has a convenient memory.”

In other words, she hadn’t told him Ivy was here. Ivy wondered if her friend knew he was due back home. It would have been a dirty trick to play, and Merrie was bigger than that. So maybe she hadn’t known.

“Thank you for the pill,” she said tautly.

He let out a harsh breath. “You’re welcome. Go to bed.”

She slid the covers back and eased under them, wincing as the movement bumped the pain up another notch.

“And don’t read anything romantic into what just happened,” he added bluntly. “Most men are vulnerable at night, when temptation walks in the door scantily clad.”

“I didn’t know...!”

He held up a hand. “All right. I’ll take your word for it.” His eyes narrowed. “Your sister fed me a pack of lies about you. Why?”

“Why were you even talking to her about me?” she countered. “You always said you couldn’t stand her, even when you were in the same class in high school.”

“She phoned me when your father died.”

“Ah, yes,” she said, closing her eyes. “She didn’t want to take any chances that you might come down on my side of the fence during the probate of the will.” She laughed coldly. “I could have told her that would never happen.”

“She thought you might ask Merrie for help.”

She opened her eyes. The pain was throbbing. She could see her heartbeat in her own eyes. “She would have. Not me. I can stand on my own two feet.”

“Yes,” he said slowly, studying her pale face. “You’ve done remarkably well.”

That was high praise, coming from him. She looked up into his lean face and wondered how it would have felt if she hadn’t pulled back. Warm color surged into her cheeks.

“Stop that,” he muttered. “I won’t be an object of desire to some daydreaming teenager.”

His tone wasn’t hostile. It was more amused than angry. Her eyebrows arched. “Are you sure?” she asked, returning the banter. “Because I have to have somebody to cut my teeth on. Just think, I could fall into bad company and become a lost sheep, and it would all be your fault, because you wouldn’t let me obsess over you.”

At first he thought she was being sarcastic. Then he saw the twinkle in those pretty green eyes.

“You’re too young to be obsessing over a mature man. Go pick on a boy your own age.”

“That’s the problem,” she pointed out, pushing her hand against her throbbing eye. “Boys my own age are just boys.”

“All men started out that way.”

“I guess so.” She groaned. “Could you please hit me in the head with a hammer? Maybe it would take my mind off the pain.”

“It takes pills a long time to work, doesn’t it?” he asked. He moved to sit beside her on the coverlet. “Want a cold wet cloth?”

“I’d die before I’d ask you to go and get one.”

He laughed shortly. But he got up, went into the bathroom and was back a minute later with a damp washcloth. He pressed it over her eyes. “Does it help?”

She held it there and sighed. “Yes. Thank you.”

“I have to have heat,” he replied conversationally. “I can’t bear cold when my head’s throbbing.”

“I remember.”

“Where did you get the chocolate, Ivy?” he asked after a minute.

She grimaced. He really did know too much about her. “There was a cookie this afternoon. I didn’t realize it was chocolate until I’d eaten half of it. Merrie warned me.”

“I can eat ten chocolate bars and they don’t faze me.”

“That’s because chocolate isn’t one of your triggers. But Merrie says you won’t drink red wine.”

“Wine is no substitute for a good Scotch whiskey. I gave it up years ago.”

“Aged cheese probably has the same effect.”

He grimaced. “It does. I love Stilton and I can’t eat it.”

She smiled. “A weakness! I thought you were beyond them.”

“You’d be surprised,” he replied, and he was looking at her with an expression he was glad she couldn’t see.

The door opened suddenly and Merrie stopped, frozen, in the doorway. “Are you having a pajama party?” she asked the occupants of the room.

“Yes, but you’re not invited. It’s exclusive to migraine sufferers, and you don’t have migraines,” he added with a faint smile.

She closed the door and came in, to stand by the bed. “I was afraid of this,” she told Ivy. “I should have noticed there was chocolate on the tray.”

“She’s the one who should have noticed,” Stuart said harshly.

“Well, talk about intolerance,” Ivy muttered from under the washcloth. “I’ll bet nobody fusses at you for what you ate when you’ve got one of these. I’ll bet you’d throw them out the window if they did.”

“You’re welcome to try throwing me out the window,” he offered.

“Don’t be silly. I’d never be able to lift you.”

“Do you need some aspirin, Ivy?” Merrie asked, sending a glare at her brother.

“I’ve already given her something.”

Merrie was outraged. “We’re taught that you never give anything to another person without consulting their physician...!”

“I’m glad you know procedure, but so do I,” Stuart replied. “I phoned Lou before I gave it to her.” He glanced toward the clock on the bedside table. “It should be taking effect very soon.”

It was. Ivy could hardly keep her eyes open. “I’m very sleepy,” she murmured, amazed at the sudden easing of the pain that had been so horrific at first.

“Good. When you wake up, your head will feel normal again,” Stuart told her.