To Claim a Wife

She’d taken her inheritance from her grandmother, who’d died several weeks before Beau, and wandered for months like a lost soul. She’d ended up in Montana, working on a dude ranch that had recently been converted into a summer camp for troubled teens. Though she’d signed on as a horse wrangler and taught several of the kids to ride, emotionally she’d fit right in with the ones who’d been sent there by social workers or the courts.

Being around the kids who’d come through the SC Ranch helped her to come to terms with the emotional deprivation she’d grown up with. As painful and lonely as her childhood had been, the kids who came to the SC had lived through even tougher times. Her own emotional abuse and neglect seemed mild compared to the abuse several of the ranch kids had suffered. She understood their anger and she’d learned how to manage her own by watching many of them struggle to master theirs. The ones who’d failed left the ranch with only a remote chance of ever making a decent life for themselves. Those were the kids—the failures—who’d terrified her into getting a grip on herself.

Coming back to Coulter City and the Broken B had been the severe test that had jarred her into realizing how far she still had to go.

The peace of the old homestead eventually stilled her troubled thoughts. It was late afternoon before she saddled the gelding and led him out of the lean-to. She mounted and started back to the ranch headquarters at a sedate walk.

CHAPTER THREE

RENO watched Caitlin ride to the stable. She held herself erect, her eyes on the barn as if she didn’t notice the few ranch hands at work in the corrals.

Now he noted the horse she rode—Jess’s favorite—and that she’d used Jess’s saddle. He bit back his irritation. There hadn’t been many horses at the stable that day. Not many extra saddles in the tack room either. Caitlin was an excellent horsewoman and a good judge of horseflesh. The black gelding was one of the best horses still at the stable, so her choice might have been more a natural one than a symbolic one.

Why he suddenly wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt aggravated him.

But then, he also had mixed feelings about the outcome of the blood test. Now that he knew Jess had doubted his daughter’s paternity, he had to admit that Caitlin didn’t favor Jess much at all. He’d heard she was the image of her mother, and she must be because she resembled Jess so little.

It was a fresh surprise for him to realize that he didn’t want her to lose every claim to Jess’s estate. She’d been raised as Jess’s daughter, whatever the circumstances of her birth. Jess should never have made her inheritance conditional on something she’d been innocent of.

Even he had to admit that Jess had been brutally unfair. It would have been more honest, more merciful for Jess to have disowned her long ago and left her out of the will completely.

When Reno realized the track his thoughts were on, and how far they’d gone, he felt a rush of anger. He watched her reach the stable and dismount. The painful turbulence she made him feel clouded his mind with dark thoughts.

She moved with a regal grace that drew the eye and stirred the imagination. The memory of what she’d looked like in that skimpy robe the night before sent a gust of heat through him. No woman in his life had affected him this strongly and he’d had enough of them to know the difference.

Once Caitlin led the gelding into the stable, he found himself stalking toward it. He caught up with her just as she pulled the saddle and turned to carry it to the tack room.

“Where were you?”

Caitlin hesitated at Reno’s gruff demand. She’d known he’d show up the moment she got in. She’d prepared herself, but the accusation in his tone sent a quiver of hurt and wariness through her. She didn’t glance up at his face, but stepped around him to continue to the tack room.

Her soft “Staying out of your way,” was as much of a nonanswer as she dared. She felt his anger spike high as she stepped into the tack room and stored the saddle. She walked out—still not looking at Reno—and began to give the gelding a quick brushing.

Silence crackled between them while she finished with the horse and led him into his stall. Her unease multiplied as she got the horse a measure of grain, checked his water, then stepped out of the stall and closed the gate.

As if he meant to keep a close watch on her, Reno tolerated the wait. Caitlin wasn’t certain what to do next. His silent anger intimidated her, but she struggled not to show it and started up the stable aisle for the house.

Reno fell into step beside her. Though neither of them spoke, the tension between them was taut. By the time they walked into the kitchen, Caitlin’s stomach was in knots.

How could she live on the Broken B with Reno? She knew right away that she’d hate living day in and day out with his enmity. And yet, until she found out for certain if she qualified to inherit half the ranch, she had no choice but to put up with it.

She didn’t relish getting into a battle of wills with him on a permanent basis, but if she had to, she would. There was always the chance he’d allow her to talk about Beau’s death. It might make some small difference, though what she could tell him had just as much potential to make him hate her more as it did to neutralize his hostility.

Still, depending on the outcome of the blood test, she wouldn’t walk on eggshells around Reno. She’d had enough of that with her father.

They left their hats on wall pegs and washed up. Caitlin used the sink in the kitchen while Reno used the one in the bathroom off the back hall. They both arrived in the dining room just as Mary finished setting the food on the table. As if the pleasant-natured cook sensed the hostility in the silence between them, she ducked back into the kitchen.

Caitlin took her place across the long, polished table from Reno. Neither of them sat in the ornate chair at the head. Mary had set their places to the left and right of the big chair. The fact that they’d have to eat facing each other didn’t do wonders for her appetite, but Caitlin sat down and reached for her napkin.

Reno’s low voice split the silence. “Visitation is tomorrow night at seven. Funeral’s at 10:00 a.m. the day after.”

Caitlin couldn’t help that her gaze shifted up to meet his. Reno was watching her so closely that she felt like a moth on a pin. His dark brows were slanted at a disapproving angle.

“Would you prefer that I skip the visitation... and the funeral?” Her soft question made his expression go black.

“You’ll go to both. And you’ll play the part of the bereaved daughter.”

The low words cut at her. She dropped her gaze to her plate. “My acting abilities are limited.”

“Just show up, keep to yourself, and keep your mouth shut.”

Stung by his edict, she toyed with her fork for a moment, but didn’t pick it up. “I’ll attend the funeral and the graveside service, but not the visitation.”

At the funeral and graveside service, she would be spared having to make small talk with community members who, no doubt, thought of her as a murderess. The visitation was a much more social occasion, and it was easy to picture herself being snubbed and treated like an outcast. Not to mention having to come face-to-face with others like Reno, who simply couldn’t conceal their hatred. Beau had charmed and won over a lot of people in the eight years he’d lived on the Broken B.

“You’ll go to the visitation.” The low rumble of Reno’s voice was final.

Caitlin lifted her gaze to his furious one. “You know what everyone thinks of me.”

“You were raised as Jess’s daughter. You won’t dishonor his memory by staying away.” He paused. “Whatever else they think, you earned.”

She couldn’t look away from his harsh expression.

“How many people know about the paternity test?” She watched his gaze flicker slightly.

“Jess didn’t make a public announcement.”

Caitlin heard instantly what Reno didn’t say. Jess might not have made it public, but everyone knew about it anyway.

Her gaze fell, and the sickness that stole over her made her weak. Moments slid by as she tried to push back the melancholy she felt. Finally, her fingers numb, she pulled her napkin off her lap and lifted it to the table. She got up without a word and walked from the room.

The moment Caitlin placed her napkin beside her plate and rose, Reno felt a powerful stroke of guilt. The low swearword that burst from his lips was quiet, but heartfelt.

Caitlin walked to her room in a haze of fresh pain. Jess’s cruelty—even though he was dead—had just as much potential to destroy her as it always had. She’d been back in Coulter City little more than twenty-four hours and Jess had already spoiled her hope of being able to stay on peacefully.

And now everyone knew he believed she was a bastard.

Caitlin walked into her bathroom and removed her clothes, hoping a hot shower would lift her spirits. She stayed under the needle-sharp spray so long that the water eventually began to cool.

Finally she turned off the taps and stepped out. The huge towel she used pleasantly abraded her skin. When she finished drying off, she wrapped the towel around herself from shoulder to thigh and pulled it tight.

She craved the comfort of being wrapped so securely. The hunger to be close to another human being warred with her secret terror of allowing anyone to get close.

The paradox was the torment of her life. There’d been a few times when she’d given in to the craving and dated in hopes of finding someone to love. But the moment a kiss or embrace began to progress to something more, she’d backed away.

She’d never been touched by real passion. She’d never understood why feverish kisses and groping embraces left her unmoved. Eventually, she’d come to the conclusion that she was frigid. The reminder made her pull the towel tighter for a few moments more before she unwrapped it and reached for her robe.

The stress of the past twenty-four hours had exhausted her. She brushed her teeth, worked the tangles from her hair, and methodically dried it. By the time she finished, it was just past 7:00 p.m. It didn’t matter that the sun hadn’t gone down yet. Sleep was too compelling a notion to resist.