The Borrowed Bride. Susan Wiggs

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СКАЧАТЬ haven’t settled a damned thing.”

      “We settled everything five years ago. It didn’t work then, and it won’t work now.”

      “Five years ago was only the beginning.”

      “No.” The word sounded strangled as she headed for the stairs. “It was the end.”

      He caught her wrist, and she froze. There was not a trace of a smile on his face when he brought her around to look at him.

      “Don’t you think you owe me one more chance?” His voice was a low rasp that reminded her of the smoky, yearning love ballads he used to sing to her. “After all, you almost had my baby, Isabel.”

      Two

      Dan Black Horse couldn’t believe Isabel had agreed to come with him. But then, he couldn’t believe he had said such a blatantly manipulative thing to her.

      She had even called the clean-cut Anthony and told him not to worry; she’d be in touch.

      And so here they were—a couple of hours southeast of the city, at his guest lodge in a wilderness so deep and untouched that there weren’t even roads leading to the property.

      He looked across the timber-ceilinged lounge at her and could not for the life of him think of a damned word to say.

      She stood at a window, one slim hand braced on the casement, gazing out at the dense old-growth forest that rose like a sanctuary around the lodge. In the green-filtered glow of the afternoon sun, she looked fragile and lovely, the shape of her legs visible through the thin, full skirt, her back straight and proud, her hair flashing with burnished light.

      A wave of tenderness washed over him. Always, she managed to look isolated and alone, even when she was in a crowd of people. It was one of the first things he had noticed about her.

      “You changed your hair,” he said at last, then grimaced at his own inanity. Boot heels ringing on the floor, he crossed to the bar and took out a can of beer for himself and a soda for her.

      She turned around to face him. Her full breasts strained against her cotton jersey top. “You changed your life.”

      Her face was more striking than he remembered. Large doe eyes. High, delicate cheekbones. A full mouth that drove him crazy just thinking about it. An air of winsome uncertainty that made him want to take her in his arms and never let her go.

      Ah, but he had let go. Five years earlier, he had not been brave enough, smart enough, to hold her.

      He handed her the soda and gave her a lopsided grin. “Yeah, I guess you could say I made some changes.”

      “A few, it would appear.” She strolled around the rambling room. “Where’s the phone? I had no idea you were taking me this far away. I should check in with—”

      “No phone,” he told her quietly.

      “What?” Liquid sloshed out of the can, but she didn’t seem to notice.

      “There’s a radio for emergencies, but the phone lines don’t come up this far, and it’s too remote for cellular.”

      She sagged against the back of an armchair. “Whatever happened to the city boy? Didn’t you find fame and fortune with the Urban Natives?”

      “Depends on your standards for fame and fortune. The band did okay. The last album went gold, and it got me into this place.”

      “I noticed the name of this place on the door—The Tomunwethla Lodge.” She brushed her hand over a woven wicker bean jar on a side table. “What does that mean?”

      Ah, she had trained herself well. He had always hoped she would acknowledge the past, maybe even come to cherish it as he did. But given Isabel’s background, that wasn’t likely.

      “Cloud Dancer Lodge,” he said. “‘Cloud Dancer’ is a song I once wrote. A really bad, crying-in-your-beer song. Probably the most popular thing I ever did.”

      Isabel rose and stood on a braided oval rug in front of the massive hearth. “So what’s the point?”

      “Of the song?”

      “Of everything.”

      He set down his beer and took her hand, leading her to the huge sofa facing the fireplace. A moose head with baleful glass eyes stared down at them.

      “The point of everything,” he echoed, blowing out his breath. He tried another grin on her, but she remained solemn. “Lady, you asked a mouthful.” He half turned, hooking a booted foot over his knee. God, he wanted to touch her, really touch her, to wake up the passion he knew was only sleeping inside her. But the way she was looking at the moment, he was afraid she might shatter.

      Just as she had five years ago.

      “First, my granddad got sick,” Dan said after a moment. “I moved to the town of Thelma to help look after him. And damned if I didn’t start to like it out here again.” He linked his hands behind his head and stretched out his legs. “Used to be, I couldn’t wait to get away from the rez, from the country.” Through half-lidded eyes, he watched her for a reaction. There was none. If anything, she seemed even more subdued. More withdrawn.

      Well, what did you expect, Black Horse?

      “My granddad died.”

      “Dan, I’m sorry.”

      “He was eighty-three. He left me a grant of land that’s tied to a treaty with the government dating back to the 1880s. Right around the time of his death, a timber company approached the tribal council, wanting to make a deal on clear-cutting.”

      “But this area is sacred ground,” she blurted out. Then she looked surprised at herself and fell silent.

      “Exactly,” he said. “But the deal was real tempting. When you don’t know where your next meal’s coming from, lunch with a grizzly bear looks pretty appetizing.”

      That coaxed an extremely small smile from her.

      “So I did some research. The lands are protected, but the council was leaning toward the timber company. I made a counteroffer. Got a special grant to develop a recreational area, sank everything I had into it and built this place. Just put the finishing touches on it a week ago.”

      “It looks as if it’s been here forever,” she said. “The lodge is really beautiful, Dan.”

      “It’s supposed to have that rustic flavor.” Flipping his wrist outward, he did a perfect imitation of Andy, the band’s former keyboard player, who had switched careers to interior design. “Without skimping on creature comforts.”

      Isabel laughed softly. The sound gripped Dan where he felt it the most—in his heart.

      “So that’s the short version,” he said. “If this is a success, I could open lodges in Alaska, maybe Belize or Tahiti in the winter—”

      “Why?” Her question was sharp and humorless.

      “Because СКАЧАТЬ