was a savage tightness around his mouth. Garth's gathering anger was a storm about to burst. "You're suggesting I take you back to Hawk Springs as my mistress? Are you out of your mind? Hawk Springs? People in Hawk Springs don't have mistresses. They have sleazy one-night stands that both parties regret the next day and that the whole town talks about, or else they get married. There's no in-between in a small town. And you damn well know it."
"I wasn't suggesting I go back with you. I could stay here." Devon clutched at her emerald silk shirt, feeling woefully unprepared to face the cataclysm. She was already wishing she'd kept her mouth shut. The easy, satisfied mood that had descended on Garth immediately following the lovemaking had vanished, leaving behind a very angry man. She should have guessed Garth's reaction.
"Oh sure. You stay here where you can run free all week long in the city and I'm supposed to spend most of my weekend driving the interstate so I can spend Saturday night with you? Don't be an idiot, Devon. Don't you think everyone in Hawk Springs is going to figure out what's going on?"
"Is that all you care about? What the people in town say about you?" she flared, feeling pressured. "I'd have thought you wouldn't give a damn."
"I don't give a damn what anyone says about me," he exploded. "I'm trying to protect you. Can't you get that through your head?"
"I don't care what anyone back in Hawk Springs says about me!"
"Well, I sure as hell do. And even if I didn't, I wouldn't tolerate the kind of situation you're suggesting. I'm a working man, Devon. I don't have time for fancy playthings and that's what mistresses are. I want a wife. A partner. A companion and a lover. I want someone I can talk to over breakfast. A woman who can keep my bed warm at night. I want a woman who understands ranching, someone who won't expect me to perform like a sexual athlete after I've spent sixteen hours delivering foals. Someone who won't expect me to entertain her. I don't have time for toys, regardless of how good they are in bed. Is that clear?"
"Very clear." Devon knew she was flushing all the way down to her breasts. It had been a stupid idea. A last-ditch tactic that she should have known would be useless. She would have given anything to retract the whole thing. She scrambled to her feet, pulling on her panties and draping the blouse around herself in a precarious fashion. "Excuse me. I'm going to take a shower." She turned toward the hallway, intent on fleeing.
She didn't get far. Garth put out a hand and clamped it very firmly around her wrist. He didn't use any force but Devon was halted as effectively as if she'd reached the end of a rope. Slowly she turned to face him.
"You promised to marry me, Devon."
"Yes."
"I don't want a mistress. I don't want a part-time lover. I want a wife."
"Yes." Garth always knew what he wanted, Devon thought. He didn't mince words or offer compromises. He didn't have time for toys and playthings and games.
"Be honest with yourself, Devon. You want me as much as I want you."
"Yes."
His expression softened. "It's time to stop testing the end of the rope, honey. I've already given you all I'm going to allow. Hell, I've given you all I can without driving myself nuts. You've had your year and now it's time to come home. You're acting like a skittish filly who doesn't have any good reason to be afraid but who insists on fighting the bridle anyway."
"You have such a way with words, Garth." Devon wrinkled her nose in chagrin as the last of her resistance gave way. "You could have found a better metaphor."
"I know horses. I don't know metaphors." He tugged her slowly toward him and brushed his mouth across hers. "I also know you, Devon. And you know me. It's going to work out between us. Can't you trust me, honey?"
Of course she could trust him. This was Garth, whose word was good until hell froze over. That wasn't the point, Devon thought in resignation. But she didn't seem to
"I wasn't suggesting I go back with you. I could stay here." Devon clutched at her emerald silk shirt, feeling woefully unprepared to face the cataclysm. She was already wishing she'd kept her mouth shut. The easy, satisfied mood that had descended on Garth immediately following the lovemaking had vanished, leaving behind a very angry man. She should have guessed Garth's reaction.
"Oh sure. You stay here where you can run free all week long in the city and I'm supposed to spend most of my weekend driving the interstate so I can spend Saturday night with you? Don't be an idiot, Devon. Don't you think everyone in Hawk Springs is going to figure out what's going on?"
"Is that all you care about? What the people in town say about you?" she flared, feeling pressured. "I'd have thought you wouldn't give a damn."
"I don't give a damn what anyone says about me," he exploded. "I'm trying to protect you. Can't you get that through your head?"
"I don't care what anyone back in Hawk Springs says about me!"
"Well, I sure as hell do. And even if I didn't, I wouldn't tolerate the kind of situation you're suggesting. I'm a working man, Devon. I don't have time for fancy playthings and that's what mistresses are. I want a wife. A partner. A companion and a lover. I want someone I can talk to over breakfast. A woman who can keep my bed warm at night. I want a woman who understands ranching, someone who won't expect me to perform like a sexual athlete after I've spent sixteen hours delivering foals. Someone who won't expect me to entertain her. I don't have time for toys, regardless of how good they are in bed. Is that clear?"
"Very clear." Devon knew she was flushing all the way down to her breasts. It had been a stupid idea. A last-ditch tactic that she should have known would be useless. She would have given anything to retract the whole thing. She scrambled to her feet, pulling on her panties and draping the blouse around herself in a precarious fashion. "Excuse me. I'm going to take a shower." She turned toward the hallway, intent on fleeing.
She didn't get far. Garth put out a hand and clamped it very firmly around her wrist. He didn't use any force but Devon was halted as effectively as if she'd reached the end of a rope. Slowly she turned to face him.
"You promised to marry me, Devon."
"Yes."
"I don't want a mistress. I don't want a part-time lover. I want a wife."
"Yes." Garth always knew what he wanted, Devon thought. He didn't mince words or offer compromises. He didn't have time for toys and playthings and games.
"Be honest with yourself, Devon. You want me as much as I want you."
"Yes."
His expression softened. "It's time to stop testing the end of the rope, honey. I've already given you all I'm going to allow. Hell, I've given you all I can without driving myself nuts. You've had your year and now it's time to come home. You're acting like a skittish filly who doesn't have any good reason to be afraid but who insists on fighting the bridle anyway."
"You have such a way with words, Garth." Devon wrinkled her nose in chagrin as the last of her resistance gave way. "You could have found a better metaphor."
"I know horses. I don't know metaphors." He tugged her slowly toward him and brushed his mouth across hers. "I also know you, Devon. And you know me. It's going to work out between us. Can't you trust me, honey?"
Of course she could trust him. This was Garth, whose word was good until hell froze over. That wasn't the point, Devon thought in resignation. But she didn't seem to
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