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

He left Belinda and crossed to the back of his pickup where he kept a tool chest. He rattled around in it for a few moments and came back with a wrench.

“I think this is the tool you’ll need.”

Belinda took the wrench from him, but she hadn’t the slightest idea what to do with it. What she was thinking must have shown in her face, because he stepped up beside her and showed her how to adjust it.

“This way tightens it, this way loosens it. You’re not afraid of heights, are you?”

Belinda stared at the thin metal ladder that was attached to the windmill. Her eyes followed it what seemed an immense distance into the air. She swallowed and said, “No. I’m not afraid of heights.”

“What you’re looking for is the bolt that attaches the wheel. Right now the wheel isn’t at the correct angle to the yaw axis in the vane.”

“What?” Belinda hadn’t the vaguest notion what he was talking about.

“You do understand how a windmill works, don’t you?”

Belinda wrinkled her nose. “Sort of. I understand the principle of the thing, but not exactly how the pieces fit together.”

“Maybe you’d better let me do this.” Faron waited for her to concede that he was the one better equipped to handle this job. He had underestimated her stubbornness.

“I can do it,” she insisted. “If you’ll just explain what it is I have to do.”

“That’s a little difficult without having the windmill down here where I can point things out,” Faron said.

Belinda looked at the ladder. No way could both of them go up it together. “Let me try,” she said at last. “If I can’t fix it, then you can do the job.”

Faron was amazed, but not amused, by Belinda’s insistence on climbing to the top of the windmill. “Dammit, woman. It’s dangerous to go up there.”

“I’m not afraid.”

“I am,” he muttered. Faron wasn’t about to let her endanger her life. “You’ve proved your point,” he said. “You’re willing to do what has to be done. Now give me that wrench, and let me go up and tighten that bolt.”

“I’m not helpless!”

“I never said you were,” Faron retorted. “Now give me the damn wrench!”

Instead, she turned and started up the ladder.

Faron put both arms around her and dragged her back down. Belinda didn’t come without a fight. The wrench fell to the ground in the struggle. She kicked and hit at Faron, but he had her from behind and her efforts to free herself were useless.

At last she slumped in his arms.

“Are you done fighting me?” he asked.

“Let me go.”

“Are you done fighting me?” he repeated.

“Yessss,” she hissed.

Now that he could let her go, Faron realized he didn’t want to. His body was way ahead of his mind. It had long since reacted strongly and certainly to the woman in his arms. Faron felt the weight of her soft breasts resting on his forearm. She smelled of soap and shampoo and woman. His hands slid down until his fingertips lay at the base of her belly.

“Faron.”

Belinda bit her lip to keep from saying more than Faron’s name. Oh, God, she wanted him! She wanted to lie with him, to merge their bodies, to join their souls. But she was not so far gone with desire that she couldn’t see the folly of repeating what had happened the previous day.

Belinda covered the male hand on her belly with her own. “We can’t do this, Faron. Please. Your father—”

His whole body stiffened. A moment later she was free.

Belinda was afraid to turn around and face him. When she did, she wished she hadn’t. There was an awful look of disgust and disdain on his face. The gray-green eyes she had found so fascinating yesterday were slicing shards of cut green glass today.

She stooped to pick up the wrench, thus avoiding his piercing gaze. When she rose, she kept her lashes lowered. She held out the wrench, and he took it from her, careful not to touch her hand. Soon after, he was halfway up the ladder.

“Be careful,” she whispered. She shaded her eyes from the sun and watched as Faron made his way to the top of the windmill. It didn’t take him long to do what he had to do, but Belinda hardly breathed the whole time he was working. He hadn’t been kidding about the danger of the job. A fall from that height would break a man in pieces.

When Faron came down the ladder she stayed out of his way. “All finished?”

“That’s all I can do right now,” he said. “There’s a part missing. I’ll have to get a replacement.”

“Will it cost much?”

“Always thinking about money, Princess?”

“Don’t call me that! Not like that!”

“Why not? That’s what you are. A pampered, golden Princess. Living off an older man’s money—”

“Stop! Stop!” Belinda put her hands to her ears. “How can you be so cruel?”

“Cruel? Princess, I don’t hold a candle to you!”

Faron stalked back to the truck. He was furious with himself for losing his temper, for taking out his sexual frustration in such a—yes, cruel—way. He hadn’t realized he was capable of that sort of behavior with a woman. Before Belinda…Hell, that was a lifetime ago. Before Belinda he had been Faron Whitelaw, happily oblivious to the fact he was Wayne Prescott’s son. Before Belinda he had known who he was. Now, everything was so damn confused!

“Get in the truck,” he said.

“I’d rather walk back to The Castle than get in that truck with you,” Belinda snapped back.

“Listen, Princess. Either you get in that truck under your own steam, or I’m going to pick you up and put you there.”

Given that choice, Belinda stomped over to the pickup and got in. He stepped in behind the wheel and gunned the engine. The wheels sent dust flying as they headed down the road.

There was a long silence while both of them fumed. At last Belinda said, “I don’t think this is going to work. I think maybe I’ll just let the bank take back the ranch. I’ll go to work somewhere in town to support myself and Madelyn.”

“Doing what?” Faron demanded.

Belinda shrugged. “I used to be a short order cook. I could—”

Faron snorted. “Princesses don’t flip hamburgers. Besides, you may be willing to give up your half of this place, but I’m not about to give up my half.”