White Christmas: Woman Hater / The Humbug Man

He searched her soft green eyes. “You didn’t sleep with him,” he said, gazing at her intently.

“That’s hard to explain.” She stared at his top shirt button. It was undone, and thick dark hair peeked out against his tanned skin. “I wanted the first time to mean something. What hurts the most is that I never felt that way about him. I thought I loved him, but I never thought about sleeping with him.”

That was the truth. Seeing how fast living had ruled her parents’ lives had soured her on that part of life. Intimacy had become to them as careless as handshakes, and Nicole had determined that it would be treated more reverently in her own life. Perhaps, in retrospect, that was one of the reasons Chase had left her. He’d pushed her toward intimacy more and more after their engagement, but she’d resisted stubbornly. And now, standing close in Winthrop’s arms, she was savagely glad she’d resisted.

There was more to it than that, he knew, but she wasn’t volunteering any more information. He studied her quietly, thinking how much like him she was. He ran his finger down her cheek. Secretive, too, but he’d get more of an explanation eventually. It was insane to be so pleased that she was still innocent. It excited him, as sophisticated women never had.

“I could eat a moose,” he said conversationally. “Why don’t we rush back to the house and raid the freezer? Can you cook, in case Mary decides to try out for the Rockettes one day?”

She laughed at him. His humor had surprised her. Was this the real man? Had that cold veneer finally melted away? “Yes, of course I can cook. Why would Mary want to try out for the Rockettes?”

He shrugged. “She threatens it once or twice a winter. She saw them on television once and was sure she was just the right height, even though her legs were a bit large. I haven’t taken her seriously in past years, but as I get older, my stomach worries.”

“Don’t you worry, Mr. Christopher, I’ll take care of you,” she murmured and turned toward the house. “Are you walking or riding?”

He sighed and grimaced. “I guess I’m riding,” he muttered. “Damned leg hurts like hell.”

She had a feeling he wouldn’t have admitted that to anyone but her. It was the best kind of compliment. She smiled and shook her head when he offered to let her ride with him after he’d painstakingly mounted the horse and was sitting regally on its back.

“It wouldn’t do your leg much good,” she reminded him. “I’ll just walk alongside and look up at you adoringly, if you don’t mind.”

“That’ll be the day,” he mused.

She looked up. “What happened to your leg?” she asked softly.

“Bone damage and torn ligaments. I was pinned in the car when she wrecked it,” he said simply. “The surgeons repaired it as best they could, but there were complications. I’ll always limp. And when I overdo, I’ll always hurt.” He glanced at her. “I had a choice between limping or giving up the leg. I came in with a matched set and I intend to go out the same way.”

She pursed her lips, feeling mischievous, and almost asked an outrageous question. Then she blushed wildly and turned away.

He guessed the question and burst out laughing. “No,” he murmured. “It doesn’t cramp my style in bed.”

She gasped, glaring at him. “I never—”

“You might as well have written it in twelve-inch letters on canvas,” he retorted.

Her mouth opened and then closed while she thought up searing retorts, none of which came to mind. Later, she’d think up hundreds, she was sure. But the thought of him in bed with another woman made her feel jealous and angry. And it showed.

He stopped, fingering the reins in one lean hand and waited for her to look up at him. His dark eyes, shadowy under the wide brim of his hat, watched her. “I’ll qualify that,” he said after a long exchange of eyes. “I don’t think it will cramp my style. I haven’t been with a woman since it happened.”

Her breath caught, but she didn’t look away. It was such an intimate thing to know about him, and she struggled to think of a suitable reply.

“That wasn’t fair, was it?” he asked with a slow smile. “And I can’t tell you for the life of me why I wanted you to know that. But I did. We’d better get home. It’s getting dark.”

She lowered her eyes to the trail that led back to the house. His revelation shouldn’t have mattered to her, but it did. She smiled softly to herself, unaware that he saw the smile, and understood it.

He lit a cigarette and rode along beside her with a carefully hidden smug expression while he smoked it. “How about dinner tomorrow night? I’ll drive you into Butte.”

She felt chills to the tips of her toes and a wild excitement that was new, like the sudden tenderness between herself and Winthrop. “If Gerald doesn’t need me, I’d love to,” she said.

He hesitated. He looked down at her curiously, but he didn’t speak. “Okay.”

She wondered about the reason for his withdrawn expression and the odd silence the rest of the way to the house. That was good, because it kept her from thinking about the way he’d kissed her. She’d never felt more threatened in her life, and the worst of it was that she wasn’t even afraid of what might happen between them.

He glanced at her just once, shocked by the surge of jealousy he felt at her remark about Gerald. It was that, too. Jealousy. He was afraid that there was something between this woman and his brother, and his own sense of honor and family wouldn’t allow him to trespass on Gerald’s territory. He wanted her to be heart-whole. He wanted that desperately. Could she have kissed him that way and still belong to Gerald? Surely not!

He pulled his emotions up short. It wouldn’t do to give in to this unexpected yen for her. He was playing with fire, and God forbid he should get burned a second time.

Nicole, unaware of his thoughts, was having some difficulties of her own trying to figure out his taciturn somberness after the new and delicate camaraderie between them. She guessed, rightly, that he was holding back out of apprehension, and she even understood. But she didn’t want him to leave her alone. She was beginning to love him, and it was only when she admitted it that she realized how desperately she wanted him.

Four (#ulink_9d161f5a-dfb9-5014-8a5f-9064128812dd)

Winthrop wasn’t at the supper table. Nicole didn’t really expect him to be, because it was early November now, and according to Gerald, the boss was getting his management program in gear for winter. That included culling cattle; weaning, preconditioning and delivering calves; making the initial selection of replacement cattle and starting them on feed; and all the veterinarian-related chores that that entailed. With the sheer immensity of the cow-calf operation, it was a full-time job for the boss to keep up with what was going on. Mike, the foreman, relieved Winthrop of a lot of headaches, but even with a firm of accountants to do the paperwork, Winthrop still had to make the big decisions. No wonder he was putting in so many late hours, Nicole thought after Gerald had explained his absence.

Later that evening, Gerald had some correspondence for her. They went into the study to work. The room had Winthrop’s personality stamped all over it. There was a bear’s head on the wall, and burgundy leather furniture. The rugs were Indian, and the huge stone fireplace was made of native rock in comparable colors. The desk was oak, the chairs man-size and comfortable. There was a copper kettle on the hearth, and it reminded Nicole of the huge copper mining operation she’d seen as they came through Butte on the day they’d arrived. On the wall was a portrait of a man in buckskin, and she wondered if that was the French trader who was an ancestor of the Christophers.

“By the way, Sadie’s invited us for dinner Friday night,” Gerald said as he sorted out his mail, which had been forwarded from Chicago that afternoon. “Is that convenient for you?”

“That’s fine,” she said. “I look forward to meeting her again.” She sat poised with her steno pad on her lap. “Uh, Winthrop asked if I’d go into Butte with him tomorrow night. To a restaurant.”

Gerald pursed his lips and smiled mischievously. “I see,” he mused. “So Winthrop’s out to take my girl away from me, is he? I’m not sure if I like that.”

It was an old joke between them, dating from her first six months as his secretary when two of the vice presidents had tried to steal her out from under his nose. She laughed and he was smiling. But the man out in the hall, overhearing him, didn’t see that. Winthrop was within reach of the doorknob, but his lean hand faltered.

“He’s not likely to try to take me away from you, so you can stop worrying,” she said, tongue in cheek. “Anyway, he couldn’t do it, you’re quite unmatchable. Are you reassured?”

“I am.” Gerald sighed theatrically, his brown eyes playful. He wasn’t at all bad-looking. He just seemed very young beside his brother. “What a frightening thought!” he added with a mock shudder. “That I could lose you to my own brother. But Winthrop is too much a gentleman to steal from people, so I can relax. Now, suppose we get down to work?”

Winthrop turned and walked out the front door. His footsteps were so soft, and the closing of the door so quiet, that the occupants of the study didn’t hear him.

He hadn’t expected Nicole to be like that. He’d been sure that her ardor was real, that she’d felt the same tenderness he had. And here she was telling Gerald that there was no chance Winthrop could turn her head. He felt sick to his stomach and furiously angry. He couldn’t bear the thought of being near her anymore, not after hearing her conversation with Gerald. What a close call, but at least he’d been spared. His face hardened as he began to work out what he was going to do. Thank God, she’d never know just how close she’d come to getting under his skin.

There was no sign of Winthrop for the rest of the evening, and the next morning, Gerald found a note waiting for him when they sat down to breakfast. He read over it, obviously puzzled.

“Winthrop,” he said, waving the slip of paper. “He’s gone to Omaha, God knows why. Something about a cattle deal. He said he’s sorry about this evening, but he’ll have to take a rain check on your dinner date.”

“That’s all right,” she said, hiding her disappointment. “I’m sure he couldn’t help it.”

Gerald, who knew his older brother a little better than Nicole did, was uneasy. Winthrop hadn’t offered to take a woman out to dinner since that blonde barracuda did him in. Nicky had touched something in him, something cold and dormant, and now Winthrop seemed determined to fight it to the last breath. Gerald studied Nicky, wondering if she had any idea how disturbing Winthrop must find her. Probably not. She was a sweet person, a little reserved most of the time. Gerald was fond of her, in a brotherly way, and he felt responsible for Winthrop’s unexpected coolness toward her. Knowing how his brother felt, Gerald should have been more wary of bringing a woman to the ranch. But it had been Winthrop who’d mentioned bringing Nicky. Come to think of it, Winthrop had asked a lot of questions about her after he’d seen her that day at the Chicago office. He pursed his lips. Well, well. Big brother had an Achilles’ heel, it seemed. He smiled as the thought warmed his mind. And now that Winthrop had the quarry near the hook, he was going to play her for a while, was that it? Or had he gotten cold feet and was now running?

“You’re very quiet,” Nicole said hesitantly.

“I’m just thinking. By the way, with Winthrop gone, would you rather spend tonight at Sadie’s?” he asked with old-world politeness.

She smiled. “You’re a nice man. Would you mind?”

“Heavens, no,” he murmured. Besides, it would give him an excuse to see Sadie again the next day, when he went to fetch Nicky. And it would kill any potential gossip stone dead. Winthrop might appreciate that one day.

They went that night to have dinner with Sadie. She was a tall woman with blond hair and soft brown eyes. Nicky had always liked her, and the two of them found plenty to talk about when Sadie had come by the office to wait for Gerald.