Caitlyn's Prize

Dropping her hands, she glanced out the window toward the Southern Cross. I’ll take everything you love. Judd’s words took root in her thoughts, her emotions. Yes, it was her fault. All because she wouldn’t marry a man who didn’t love her.

At nineteen, she’d believed in love and happily ever after. She’d thought she’d hit the jackpot, only to discover that the marriage had been arranged between Jack Calhoun and her father. That’s why Judd had shown an interest in her, after ignoring her for years.

It was all planned. Caitlyn was to do as she was told. But her father didn’t count on her stubborn streak.

She’d wanted to marry for love, and wouldn’t settle for less.

Now, years later, she had to wonder if love was real or just a fantasy that lived inside foolish women’s hearts and minds.

For her, it was something she’d never experience again.

Love had died.

Only revenge remained.

CHAPTER FOUR

“CAITLYN, WHERE ARE YOU? I can’t traipse all over the house looking for you. I’m too old for this. You have a visitor, so get your butt out here.”

Etta’s annoyed voice snapped Caitlyn out of her malaise. She hurried to the door and yanked it open, finding the housekeeper there with a wooden spoon in her hand.

As a kid, Cait had often felt the sting of that spoon on her legs, mostly for doing something she’d been told not to. She had a feeling Etta wanted to swat her with it now.

“What is it?”

“You have a visitor. He’s in the parlor.”

“He, who?”

“Mr. Calhoun.”

Oh great, just what she needed. Two encounters with the man in one day. What did he want now? Her blood?

Etta leaned in and whispered, “What’s he doing here?” Those faded brown eyes demanded an answer. Gran’s faculties might be faulty, but Etta’s were not. Cait knew she couldn’t slip anything past her.

“I’m not sure. I’ll go see.”

Etta’s bony fingers wrapped around her forearm, stopping her. “Don’t lie to me, girl.”

“High Five’s in trouble. I’ll explain later.”

“Fine.” She released her hold. “Did you check on Miss Dorie?”

“Yes. She’s digging clothes out of the trunk and reliving happier times.”

“Lordy, Lordy, is she ever gonna snap out of it?”

“We just have to be patient and gentle with her.”

“Yeah.” Etta glanced toward the parlor. “What are you waiting for?”

Cait smiled briefly. “Maybe a shot of courage.”

Etta held up the spoon. “Will this help?”

“You bet.”

Moments later, Caitlyn walked into the room, her boots dragging on the hardwood floor. The parlor looked the same as it had in the seventies, with velvet drapes and heavy antique furniture. Judd stood in the middle of the room on an Oriental rug that had seen better days. He held his hat in his hand, along with more blasted papers.

Oh, yes, a gentleman always removed his hat in the company of a lady. Judd had always had impeccable manners. Too bad they didn’t come with real emotion, real feelings.

“What is it, Judd?” She stood a good twelve feet away, but still felt the power of his presence. Her lungs squeezed tight and a feeling from her past surfaced. She was nineteen, young and in—oops…The four-letter word wasn’t in her vocabulary anymore. She’d replaced it with one that would scorch his ears.

“You left in such a hurry you forgot your copy of the sale of the royalties and your father’s codicil to his will. You might need them to show your sisters.” Judd held the papers toward her.

She crossed her arms and made no move to take them. “You could have sent someone with them. Brenda Sue goes right by here on her way home. Why are you here?”

Her direct question didn’t faze him. He laid the papers on an end table by the settee. Cait noticed the film of dust there. Damn! Etta’s eyes weren’t the best anymore and Cait didn’t have time for housework. She had a ranch to run. And what did she care if Judd saw their home wasn’t immaculate.

“I had a reason for coming,” he said, jolting her out of her thoughts.

“What would that be?”

His eyes caught and held hers. She wanted to look away but couldn’t. “I wanted to urge you once again to sell now and get it over with.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “You don’t think I can run this ranch successfully without the royalties?”

“You haven’t so far.”

“I—”

He held up a hand. “Don’t make this about you and me. Do what’s right for your family.”

“You made this about you and me.” Her voice rose with anger. “You want me to pay for daring to walk away from Judd Calhoun. Maybe even beg. It ain’t happening, mister.”

His lips formed a thin line. “I was harsh this afternoon. A lot of that old resentment came back. Bottom line, Caitlyn, you lived away from here a lot of years. It shouldn’t be a problem to do that again.”

“I lived away because my father didn’t want me here. It wasn’t voluntary.” Despite every effort, she couldn’t keep the hurt out of her voice.

“You made that decision. No one else.”

She stepped closer to him, his woodsy masculine scent doing a number on her senses. “Yes, I did. At the time, you didn’t even care enough to ask why I made that decision.”

He gripped his Stetson so tight he bent the rim. “You wanted me to beg you to stay?”

“No. I wanted to talk. I wanted to have a say in our wedding, our marriage, our life.”

He drew back. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. You planned the wedding.”