Hawk's Way Collection: Faron And Garth: Hawk's Way: Garth / Hawk's Way: Faron

“I’m a little tired,” Belinda said. “I had a long ride this afternoon.” She raised her eyes to meet Faron’s and realized the second meaning that could be given to her words. His lips lifted in a slight smirk that made her feel physically ill.

Belinda wanted to tell him she was sorry. But she wasn’t sorry. What had happened between them had been beautiful. What she really wanted was the chance to explain why she had needed what he had offered. She had been so very vulnerable. It had been so wonderful to allow herself the fantasy of loving and being loved.

Now Belinda was sure Faron Whitelaw had entirely the wrong idea about what kind of woman she was. She could feel his attraction to her, but it was laced with harsher, harder feelings. The fierce look on his face gave ample evidence that he didn’t want to hear what she had to say. And that he was unlikely to forgive or forget what she had done.

When Belinda realized the road her thoughts had taken she was alarmed. Hadn’t she learned her lesson with Wayne? Here she was ready to make the same mistakes again! Why should she care what her stepson thought of her? She would never give another man the sort of emotional, physical and economic hold over her that Wayne had possessed.

She ought to show Faron the door. If it had only been herself involved in the catastrophe that threatened, she would have. But there was Madelyn to think of. So she clamped her back teeth together and held her tongue.

Once Faron was seated, an older woman wearing a voluminous white apron began serving dinner. She passed out plates already laden with pork chops, mashed potatoes and green beans. The servant had hair dyed a shocking red and fingernails painted an equally vivid color. When she left the room Madelyn said, “Rue has been with the family forever. Belinda and I couldn’t manage without her.”

To Faron it was further proof that Belinda Prescott was the pampered Princess he had labeled her. His stepmother sat across from him looking cool and elegant and totally in control. Meanwhile, his body was hard and throbbing from the small caress of her shoulders he had allowed himself. But he would be damned if he’d touch her again anytime soon.

As he ate his dinner, Faron tried to revive the feelings of dislike he had felt toward Belinda Prescott for forcing him to confront his true paternity. But it was one thing to hate a woman you envisioned as an interfering rich bitch, and quite another to hate a woman with whom you’ve just shared the most poignant physical encounter of your life.

To compound his confusion, the woman he found so attractive was his stepmother. He had been determined not to take anything handed down to him from Wayne Prescott. Now he found there was one thing he wanted very much: his father’s widow.

“Did Belinda write you about the terms of the will?”

Madelyn’s question jerked Faron from his thoughts. “What?”

“The will. Did Belinda tell you the terms of Wayne’s will?”

Faron’s gaze swung back around the table to spear Belinda. “No, Maddy, she didn’t. She did seem in an all-fired hurry for me to get here.”

“Why don’t you tell Faron the problem, Belinda,” Madelyn said.

“If you came here expecting to inherit wealth beyond your dreams, you’re going to be disappointed,” Belinda began.

Faron’s brows arched. “I heard my father was a millionaire.”

“Was is the correct word,” Belinda said. “King’s Castle, including the land and The Castle on it, is mortgaged to the hilt. The mineral leases only provide enough income to cover the taxes, and the worsening economy has left the ranch only marginally profitable.”

“So sell the ranch and move into town,” Faron said.

“It isn’t that simple.”

“Why not?” Faron asked.

“If we could sell the property piecemeal, there might be some hope of making a profit and avoiding foreclosure. But Wayne’s will stipulates that King’s Castle has to be sold all in one piece. Otherwise it gets donated to charity.

“We simply haven’t been able to find a buyer willing to take the whole thing—thousands of acres of land, dozens of buildings, farm equipment, the stock, the house—in short, someone willing to buy the losing aspects of the ranch along with the profitable ones,” Belinda explained. “I was hoping you might have some ideas about improvements that would make the ranch attractive to a single corporate buyer.”

Faron had wondered why his stepmother had gone to so much trouble to have him included in his father’s will. Now he had his answer. She needed someone with the right motivation—a promise of half the proceeds—to spend the time and energy putting King’s Castle back on its feet so she could make a big killing when it was sold!

His sense of self-preservation warned him to get right back in his truck and go home to Texas. He decided to ask a few more questions first.

“How much money do you have to work with?”

“You mean cash?” Belinda asked. When Faron nodded she said, “There’s just enough in the bank for food for us and the stock over the summer.”

“Surely there are some jewels or furs you can liquidate,” Faron said.

“Oh, dear, no,” Madelyn said. “Wayne sold all those things years ago.”

“Have you tried cutting the staff for the house and the number of cowboys on the payroll.”

Madelyn’s eyes twinkled as she laughed. “You’ve seen the house staff,” she said.

“Rue?” Faron asked incredulously.

“We simply couldn’t let her go,” Madelyn said. “She’s almost family.”

“And the cowhands?”

“You’ve met Toby, I presume.”

Faron nodded. When Madelyn said nothing more he realized the middle-aged cowboy was all there was. “Who takes care of things around here?” he demanded.

“Why, Belinda does, of course,” Madelyn said.

Faron stared hard at his stepmother. That wasn’t at all what he had expected to hear.

“I can see you two need to discuss business,” Madelyn said. “So I’ll just excuse myself and go upstairs and get some rest.”

Faron stood and escorted his grandmother to the door of the dining room, sliding the wooden door closed behind her. Then he turned back to the woman who had become his nemesis—and his desire.

Faron stared at Belinda with narrowed eyes. “How bad is it?” he demanded.

She laced her hands together calmly. “It’s as bad as you think it is. We’re as poor as church mice. If something isn’t done to make King’s Castle salable, Madelyn and I will be penniless and homeless within the year.”

Faron fisted his hands so hard his knuckles turned white. He might have been able to leave Belinda to her fate, but there was no way he could stand by and watch his own grandmother be put out in the street.

“All right,” he said. “I’ll hang around long enough to help put the place in shape to sell. But as soon as we find a buyer, I’m out of here!”

“No one could want to leave this place more than I do!” Belinda said vehemently. “There are no happy memories here for me!”

“No one forced you to marry my father,” Faron snarled. “You made your own bed. Now you have to lie in it. Just don’t expect me to join you there.”

Belinda’s face blanched white. She could feel his fury, his hate and his desire. She had learned from Wayne how to avoid confrontation. It didn’t always work, but often enough it had saved her a bruise or a blackened eye. She put those lessons to good use now.

She lowered her eyelids to hide the anger blazing there. She rose and smoothed the front of her skirt with hands that appeared much more calm than they were. In a soft, deferential voice she said, “I believe I’ll retire now.”

When Faron took a step toward Belinda, her eyes flashed defiance. She would not become a victim, ever again. “Keep your distance, Cowboy!”

He took another step toward her.

“I’m warning you—”