The Pride Of Jared Mackade tmb-2 Page 17

  Eyes bland, Devin studied Jared. "You asked Savannah to marry you?"

  "No. I didn't get a chance to tell her—"

  "Tell her." Now Devin grinned. "Typical."

  "You might try to see my side of it," Jared grumbled. "I realized that's what I want. I was thinking about it, going over it, and then I see she's gotten the effects from her father. She hadn't told me it had come. There was a photograph of her with Bryan's father."

  "Hmm..." Rafe's comment went for all of them.

  "When I asked her about it, she got defensive."

  "Hostile witness," Shane murmured, and earned a glare.

  "She tossed it out," Jared continued. "Like it meant nothing."

  "Maybe that's just what it meant," Devin put in.

  "Look, the bastard got her pregnant, then abandoned her. Her father kicks her out. She's sixteen, for God's sake. It means something. But she won't come out with it. She won't tell me. What she does is start . accusing me of idiotic things. Then she says, get this, she says that I figure it was all right for me to sow wild oats or whatever, to get in trouble and kick some butt. But I expect her to be untouched or a victim, or words to that effect. It's insulting."

  Rafe regarded the lip of his beer bottle. "It's true."

  "The hell it is."

  "Sorry, bro. You pass the bar, buy yourself a couple lawyer suits—"

  "Do you want me to break your nose again?"

  "In a minute. Anyway, after a while you decide it's time to get married, so you pick out an ice queen, one with no baggage, no secrets, no noticeable flaws. You know why?"

  Temper percolating, Jared eyed him. "Why don't you tell me?"

  "Because the image worked for you. It didn't take you long to realize the woman didn't, because you're pretty sharp most of the time. Now, Savannah, there's a woman with baggage, some secrets, a few flaws. The image is a little hard to tuck into a box, but the woman works."

  He wanted to argue, to debate, to tear the hypothesis to shreds. And discovered he couldn't. So he swore instead.

  "Kafka," he muttered as a light dawned. "Barbara read Kafka."

  "Doesn't surprise me," Rafe said cheerfully.

  Trying it all from a new angle, Jared took out a cigar. "The argument is still valid that if two people want to build a future together, they have to trust each other enough to share the past. I want the boy, too," he said, blowing out a stream of smoke.

  "Are you going to let a photograph stop you?" Devin asked quietly.

  "No. I'm not going to let anything stop me."

  "Two down," Shane complained. "You know, women start getting ideas when your brothers get married."

  "Live with it," Jared told him.

  All of them glanced over at the sound of a car coming up the lane, fast.

  So she'd come to her senses, he decided, proud of the fact that he'd given her the night to think it over. Now she was here, sorry she'd lost her temper, he imagined. Ready to sit down and discuss it all reasonably.

  He rose, moved over to lean on the post opposite Devin. He'd be big enough to apologize, as well, he thought. And to explain himself more coherently. He was sure that years from now they'd laugh over the whole foolish mess.

  He lifted the cigar to his lips, ready to welcome her, when she squealed to a halt at the end of the lane.

  The woman who unfolded herself from the car didn't look conciliatory. She looked wild, glowing and stunning.

  "Oh-oh" was all Shane said, but he rolled his eyes merrily at Rafe.

  She didn't speak, but stood with her hands on her hips, scanning the four men. An audience, she thought. Even better. Didn't they all look smug and pleased with themselves just for being men?

  She swaggered around to the trunk, unlocked it. The box came first. The dogs jumped and circled around her in excited greeting as she carried it to the side of the car. With a wide smile she overturned it. Several articles of clothing tumbled out. Suits, ties, shirts, socks. Still smiling, she gave the heap a couple of good solid kicks to spread things out.

  Delighted, the dogs trampled over the clothes, sniffing and barking. Fred proved his recognition of Jared's scent by lifting his leg.

  On the porch, four men watched in silence, with varying degrees of emotion.

  Ah, Jared's favorite tie was snagged on her foot, she discovered. Eyes on his, she ground her heel into it.

  Rafe grinned like a loon. Shane let out one full belly laugh. Devin watched in rapt admiration.

  Jared just watched.

  She wasn't finished. Not by a long shot. Back to the trunk she pulled out a leather-bound address book he'd left on the nightstand. Her smile cool, she held it open as if to demonstrate. Then tore the pages out and let them flutter onto the heap of the now dirty, dog-haired clothes.

  She took out his shoes. The good Italian leather first. Holding them down for Ethel to sniff, Savannah let the first one fly, then the second, and the dogs gave grateful chase. Tennis shoes went next. Two pairs, one of which, she was delighted to note, was only two weeks old.

  She hoped the dogs chewed them to shreds.

  There was shaving gear to deal with. She pitched a piece here, a piece there, drawing out the event until Shane simply rolled out of his chair onto the deck of the porch, helpless with laughter.

  But she'd saved the coup de grace. The wine.

  There had only been one bottle open, but she'd tossed that before she left. She uncorked all three, all fine vintages, expensively French. Chin up, eyes challenging, she walked back to what was left of his clothes. She tilted her head first, darkly pleased when his eyes went to green slits. With a veteran waitress's skill, Savannah poured them out, all at once over his best suit.

  Done, she let the bottles fall with a clink on the grass. Still without having uttered a word, she strolled back to the car, slid behind the wheel. With a final smile, an arrogant salute, she backed up, swung around and drove down the lane.

  Other than Shane's helpless laughter, there wasn't a sound until Devin finally cleared his throat. He studied the mess on the lawn carefully, even patted Fred's head when the dog devotedly brought him one of Jared's mauled shoes.

  "Well," he said at length. "I'd say she made her point, too."

  "She's a spooky woman," Shane managed, mopping his streaming eyes. "I think I'm in love with her."

  Because he knew what it was like to be at the mercy of his own heart, Rafe rose and slapped a hand on Jared's shoulder. "You know, Jare, you got two choices."

  He was all but quivering with fury. "Which are?"

  "Run like hell, or go get her. I know which one I'd choose."

  Jared didn't do anything for a couple of hours. He knew himself well enough to understand that his temper could be dangerous. He worked off some steam, and worked up a sweat in the barn before washing up.

  When he finally headed out, his anger was still there, but strapped in. She figured she was dumping him, he thought, like she'd dumped his things.

  But she was going to figure again.

  "Hey, Jare." From the side yard where he was playing tug-of-war with the dogs over one of Jared's shoes, Shane sent up a shout. "Tell Savannah we really enjoyed the show, okay?"

  "Remind me to kick your butt later."

  She'd humiliated him, he fumed. In front of his brothers. Seeking control, he jammed his hands into his pockets and veered toward the woods. Not to mention that she'd ruined a good portion of his wardrobe.

  Thought she was damn clever, he was sure. He imagined she'd sat up half the night planning it all out. If he hadn't been the brunt of it, he'd have admired her finesse. The sheer nerve of it.

  But he had been the one who took the brunt of it.

  The woods closed around him, but he didn't experience the usual sense of peace and companionship. His mind was on the other side of them, on Savannah. And, he thought with relish, on revenge. Let's see how she liked it when he went into her closet and—

  He stopped himself, took another deep breath. Look what the w
oman had brought him to. He was actually considering vandalizing her belongings in some sort of juvenile one-upmanship.

  Wasn't going to happen. He would gain revenge by showing her that, despite her outrageous behavior, he was a reasonable man. To make certain he would be, Jared detoured off the path and sat down on the rocks.

  He couldn't feel them—the ghosts that haunted this place with their sorrows and hopes and fears. Perhaps, he thought, because for the first time in a long time he was plagued with too many of his own.

  He'd known loss. The jarring, devastating loss of his parents. He'd lived with that, because he didn't have a choice, and because, he thought, there were so many good, solid, important memories to draw on for comfort.

  And, of course, he'd always had his brothers.

  He'd known sorrow. He had been struck with it when he finally admitted his marriage had been a mistake. Not a disaster. Somehow that would have been better, less pale, than a simple, easily rectifiable mistake.

  Hope, of course. His life had been full of it, a gift from his parents, from his roots. Wherever there was hope there was fear, the price to be paid for the sweetness.

  He'd known all those emotions, used them or overcome them. But until Savannah, he'd never known anything so sharp, so vital. So frightening.

  The wind changed as he sat there, picked up, where it had been calm before. It fluttered the trees, whispered through the leaves that filtered sunlight. And chilled.

  They came here. He sat very still as he thought of it. The two boys, wearing different colors, came here. Each of them wanted only to find home again. To escape from the madness into the recognizable. The familiar. To find the sense of it all again, the meaning of it. The continuity of family, of people who knew and loved them. Accepted them.

  Maybe, in some odd way, that was what they'd fought for.

  For home.

  What an idiot he'd been, Jared realized, and closed his eyes as the wind scooped up dead leaves and swirled them around him. The two boys had never had a chance once they chose their path. But he had a chance. The same fate that had doomed those two soldiers so long ago had placed Savannah and Bryan right in front of him.

  Instead of accepting, he'd questioned. Instead of rejoicing, he'd doubted.

  Because what frightened him most was this blinding love. A love that demanded he protect, defend, treasure. And he couldn't protect the girl she had been, defend that girl against the cruel and thoughtless blows of life when no one else would help. She'd had to face it alone, without him. And, if necessary, she still could.

  That left him feeling impotent, and scorched his pride.

  So, he was an idiot. But she wasn't going to get rid of him easily.

  He heard a rustling, and when he opened his eyes he wouldn't have been surprised to see a young Confederate soldier, bayonet ready, fear bright as the sun in his eyes, step off the path.

  Instead, he saw Bryan, head down, feet scuffling leaves. He would have laughed at his overactive imagination if the boy's pose hadn't been one of such abject dejection.

  "Hey, Ace, how's it going?"

  Bryan's head came up. The smile, a bit more cautious than Jared was used to, fluttered around his mouth. "Hi. Just out walking. Mom's in a mood."

  "I know." In an unspoken invitation, Jared patted the rock beside him. "She's pretty steamed at me."

  "She said you were steamed at her, too."

  "I guess I was." Instinctively Jared draped an arm over Bryan's shoulders when the boy settled beside him. "I'm over it. Mostly."

  "She's not." Ready for male bonding, Bryan rolled his eyes. "She kicked me out."

  "No, kidding? Me too."

  The idea of that had Bryan chuckling. He didn't think his mother had told Jared to go play outside, for God's sake. "We can go live at the farm, till she cools off."

  "We could," Jared said consideringly. "Or I could go on over and try to smooth things out."

  "Can you?"

  Jared looked down, and for the first time saw the worry in the boy's eyes. "She's not really mad at you, Bry. She's mad at me."

  "Yeah, I know. Can you make her not mad at you anymore?"

  "I hope so. When you tick her off, does she stay that way long?"

  "Nah. She can't, 'cause..." There was no way to explain it. "She just can't. But she's never let a guy hang around like you, so maybe she can stay mad at you."

  "She's never..." He stopped himself. It was wrong to ask the child. "Maybe you should give me some pointers."

  "Well." Bryan pursed his lips as he thought about it. "She really digs the flowers you bring her. No one ever did that before, except once I brought her some little ones for her birthday. She got all mushy about it."

  "No one ever brought her flowers," Jared murmured. He wasn't just an idiot. He was a champion idiot.

  "Nuh-uh," Bryan continued, warming up. "No one ever took us out to ball games or for pizza, and she likes that, too."

  This time he could ask, because it was for the boy. "No one ever took you to ball games or for pizza?"

  "Nah. I mean, Mom and me went, sure, but not with a guy who like set it up and stuff." Bryan was thinking that over, how much he liked it, when inspiration struck. "Oh, yeah. And when you're going to take her out, like on a date, she sings in the shower. She went out on dates before and all, but she never sang when she was getting ready. So maybe you should take her on a date. Girls like that stuff."

  Jared determined there were going to be lots of ball games, lots of pizza, lots of dates and lots of flowers in Savannah and Bryan's future. "Yeah, they do."

  "Have you got any love words?"

  "Excuse me?"

  "Like in the movies," Bryan explained. "You know how the woman gets all moon-eyed when the guy says love words. Only the guy has to be kind of moon-eyed, too, to make it work. She might like that."

  "She might."

  Bryan sighed at the thought. "It's probably embarrassing."

  "Not if you mean them. Here's the thing, Bryan." Jared scooted away just enough that he could face the boy fully. "I figure I ought to run this by you, since you've been the man of the house for so long. I'm in love with your mother."

  As his stomach clutched and jittered, Bryan lowered his gaze. "I kind of figured you were stuck on her."

  "No, I'm in love with her. Moon-eyed. I'm going to ask her to marry me."

  Bryan's gaze whipped back up, and this time it held steady and searching. "For real?"

  "For very real. How does that fly with you?"

  He wasn't ready to commit. Though he liked the strong weight of the arm on his shoulders, his stomach was still jumping. "Would you, like, live with us?"

  "Not like. I would live with you, and you'd live with me. But there's a catch."

  That was what he'd been afraid of. He braced himself, kept his eyes level. "Yeah? What?"

  "I'm going to ask you to take my name, Bryan. And to take me on, as your father. I don't just want your mother, you see. I want both of you, so you both have to want me."

  There was an odd pressure on his chest, as if someone had just sat on him. "You want to be my father?"

  "Yes, very much. I know you've gotten along just fine without one up till now, and maybe I need you more than you need me, but I think I'd be good at it."

  Bryan's eyes goggled. "You need to be my father?"

  "I do," Jared murmured, realized he'd rarely spoken truer words. "I really do."

  "I'd be Bryan MacKade?"

  "That's the deal."

  While he hesitated, Jared's universe simply ground to a halt. If the boy rejected him, he knew, it would cut straight to his heart.

  But Bryan didn't know for sure how things were done between men. He knew what to do when his mother offered him something wonderful, something he'd hardly dared to dream of but had wished for hard, really hard, at night. So, in the end, that was what he did.

  Jared found his arms full of boy.

  The breath Jared had been holding whistled out in almost
painful relief. Have a cigar, he thought giddily, you've got yourself a son.

  "This is so cool," Bryan said, his voice muffled against Jared's chest. "I thought maybe you didn't want somebody else's kid."

  Gently, for he suddenly felt very gentle, Jared cupped the boy's chin and lifted it. "You won't be somebody else's. We'd make it legal, but that's just a paper. What really counts is what's between you and me."

  "I'll be Bryan MacKade. You'll make her go for it, won't you? You'll talk her into it?"

  "Talk is my business."

  Furious at herself for snapping at Bryan, Savannah ruined two illustrations before admitting that work was hopeless. She'd been so pleased with herself when she drove away from the MacKade farm. Drunk with the power of causing fury to run hot and cold over Jared's face.

  Now she was miserable. Miserably angry, miserably frustrated. Miserable. She wanted to kick something, but wasn't so far gone she'd take it out on the two kittens napping in the corner of the kitchen.

  She wanted to break something, but after a frustrated search through the living room she discovered she didn't have anything valuable enough to be satisfying.

  She wanted to scream. But there was no one to scream at.

  Until Jared strode through the door.

  "You don't have so much as a cuff link left here, MacKade. Everything's in your front yard."

  "I noticed. That was quite a show, Savannah."

  "I enjoyed it." She crossed her arms, angled her chin. "Sue me."

  "I might yet. Why don't we sit down?"

  "Why don't you go to hell?" she drawled. "And be sure the door kicks you on your way out."

  "Sit down," he repeated, in a tone just firm enough, just reasonable enough, to light a very short fuse.

  "Don't you tell me what to do in my own house!" she shouted at him. "Don't you tell me what to do, period. I'm sick to death of you making me feel like some slow-witted backwater bimbo. I don't have a fancy degree—hell, I don't have a high school diploma—but I'm not stupid. I muddled through with my life just fine before you came along. And I'll do just fine after you've gone."

  "I know." He acknowledged that with a slight inclination of his head. "That's what's been worrying me. And I don't think you're stupid, Savannah. On the contrary. I don't think I've ever met a smarter woman."