Page 42 of Texas Honor

“I like history,” she commented. “It’s interesting reading about how other people lived in other times.”

“Yes, I think so, too,” he agreed. “I prefer Western history myself. I have a good collection of information on the Comanche and the cowboy period in south Texas, from the Civil War up to the 1880s.”

She took her bag into the living room, watching the way he filled the room. He was so big. So masculine. He seemed to dwarf everything.

“We don’t really know a lot about each other, do we?” he asked as she joined him. He turned, hands in his pockets, spreading the fabric of his trousers close against the powerful muscles of his legs.

“Getting to know women isn’t one of your particular interests, from what I’ve heard,” she returned quietly. “At least, not in any intellectual way.”

“I explained why,” he reminded her, and his green eyes searched her blue ones. “It isn’t easy learning to trust people.”

She nodded. “I suppose not.” She wanted to ask him why he seemed to be so interested in where she lived, but she was too shy. “I’m packed.”

He glanced toward her suitcase. “Enough for a little while?”

“Enough for a week or so,” she said. “You didn’t say how long I was to stay.”

He sighed heavily. “That’s something we’ll leave for later. Right now I just want to go home.” He looked around him. “It’s like you,” he said finally. “Bright. Cheerful, Very homey.”

She hadn’t felt bright and cheerful and homey in recent weeks. She’d felt depressed and miserable. But it fascinated her that her apartment told him so much.

“It doesn’t have an indoor stream,” she commented.

He smiled slowly. “No, it doesn’t. Good thing. With my batting average so far, I guess I’d be in it by now, wouldn’t I?”

She cleared her throat, feeling embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to push you in the river.”

“Didn’t you? It seemed like it at the time.” He searched her eyes quietly. “I meant what I said, Marianne. I won’t make any more insulting propositions.”

“I appreciate that. I’m just sorry that I gave you such a poor opinion of me,” she added, admitting her own guilt. “I shouldn’t have let things go on the way they did.”

He moved closer, lifting his hands to her shoulders, lightly holding her in front of him. “What we did together was pretty special,” he said hesitantly. “I couldn’t have stopped it any more than you could. Let’s try not to look back. That part of our relationship is over.”

He sounded final, and she felt oddly hurt. She stared at his vest, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest.

“Yes,” she murmured.

He looked down at her silky dark hair, smelled the soft floral scent that clung to her, and his heart began to throb. It had been so long since he’d held her, kissed her. He wanted to, desperately, but he’d just tied his own hands by promising not to start anything.

“Do you like kittens?” he asked unexpectedly.

Her eyes came up, brightly blue and interested. “Yes. Why?”

“We’ve got some,” he said with a grin. “Lillian found an old mama cat squalling at the back door in a driving rain and couldn’t help herself. The very next morning we had four little white kittens with eyes as blue as—” he searched hers with a disturbing intensity “—as yours.”

“You let her keep the kittens?” she asked softly.

He shifted restlessly. “Well, it was raining,” he muttered. “The poor little things would have drowned if I’d put them outside.”

She wasn’t buying that. Odd, how well she’d come to know him in the little time she’d spent on his ranch. “And...?” she prodded with raised eyebrows.

He almost smiled at the knowing look on her face. She knew him, warts and all, all right. “Cousin Bud’s got one hell of an allergy to little kitties.”

He was incorrigible. She burst out laughing. “Oh, you black-hearted fiend, you!” she groaned.

“I like little kitties,” he said with mock indignation. “If he doesn’t, he can leave, can’t he? I mean, I don’t lock him in at night or anything.”

If love was knowing all about someone—the good things and the bad—and loving them just the same, then it sure did apply here, she mused silently. “Ward Jessup,” she said, sighing, “you just won’t leave Bud alone, will you?”

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