Page 51 of Fairy Tale Husband

She gave him an impish grin. “Just this once. After that, you can sling her out into the cold and simply ignore her.”

“You’re a hard woman to ignore,” he retorted.

“So you’ve said. Annoying, pesky, tenacious.”

The gold of his eyes rivaled the hot glow of the fire. “And loyal as hell. Okay, wife. You’ve heard most of the sordid details. There’s not much left to the story.” He stood and tossed another log onto the iron grate. “My parents met, fell in lust, and had a summer of careless pleasure. Careless because they accidentally conceived me. When my mother found out she was pregnant, she approached my father. Sorry, he said, he’d just gotten engaged to someone else—asocially acceptable someone else—and he’d appreciate it if she’d disappear. To ensure it, my grandfather made it worth her while.”

“He paid her.”

“And thus helped cement her choice of careers.”

“Oh, Jake,” Wynne murmured.

“No pity, remember?” he bit out. “When I turned sixteen she died and I ended up on the streets. By that time, my father had also met an untimely end. His wife had never been able to bear him any children and my grandfather was desperate. Remembering the pregnant girl he’d bought off all those years ago, he came looking for me.”

“And returned to Chesterfield with a furious, resentful teenager.” It wasn’t a question.

“I sure as hell wasn’t the grandson he’d dreamt of having. Idespised him for his hypocrisy and made no bones about it. In exchange for my hatred, he gave me all he possessed. Food, clothes, aroof over my head. Everything money could buy, he provided without hesitation. The one thing he asked in exchange I refused to give him.”

It only took a moment’s thought to figure out what Jake had withheld. “Your name.”

He nodded. “For years Grandfather begged me to change it to Chesterfield. But I refused.”

She eyed him shrewdly. “It was the only way you could keep your own identity, to keep that last piece of yourself intact.”

He shrugged. “I was Jake Hondo and calling me Chesterfield wouldn’t change the circumstances surrounding my birth.”

“But you grew to love him, didn’t you, despite what he’d done to your mother?”

He ran a hand across his nape. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I did. He was a proud, lonely man who’d made a lot of mistakes in his life. Not once did he ever try to justify those mistakes or place the blame elsewhere. He just stood up and said, ‘I’m the one.’ I respected him for that, if nothing else.”

“But you didn’t stay with him, did you?”

He sighed. “I presume you’re asking about Lost Trail.”

“Yes.”

“From the minute I arrived in Chesterfield, Istarted working and saving so I could buy my own place.”

She nodded in perfect understanding. “It’s that independent streak of yours. Never depend on anyone or anything.”

“Something like that,” he agreed. “I got lucky. When I was in my mid-twenties, the neighboring ranch came available and I bought it. It was pitifully small compared to what my grandfather owned, but little by little I acquired the surrounding land until I had a respectable-sized spread.”

“Dusty said you didn’t stay there, that you moved back in with your grandfather.”

“Not long after I made the purchase, the doctors discovered he had cancer.” He stared at the fire, his face an expressionless mask. “What else could I do?”

“You couldn’t have done anything else,” she informed him. “Another person might have been more callous.”

“I’m callous enough. And just so you know how callous...” He gave her a cool, direct look. “I could have brought you here after the wedding. Instead I chose to take you and the boys to Lost Trail. Care to know why?” He didn’t wait for her to answer, just gave her the hard, cold facts. “I didn’t want you to get your hopes up about staying, didn’t want you to get too comfortable living with me. That way there wouldn’t be any regrets when the time came to leave.”

Amusement brightened her eyes. “Do you think when I leave I’ll miss the ranch more than the man?” She’d set him back on his heels with that one, she realized, stifling the urge to laugh.

“Most women would,” he muttered, then held up his hands. “I know, Iknow. You’re not most women. Maybe I should write that down so I don’t forget. You have a pen handy?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep reminding you.”

“I don’t doubt it.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Are we done?”

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