Connal Page 7

  His jaw clenched. He'd never be able to trust her again. If she'd lie to him once, she'd do it twice. God, why had she done this to him?

  "Go on," Ben said gently, wary of new explosions. "I can handle things until you get back. Or until I have to look for a new foreman. I won't pressure you."

  He frowned, thinking about something Ben had said. "You said she knew I had money."

  Ben grimaced. "Yes, I did. And she was sure you'd think the marriage was because of it." He shook his head. "You're doing your damnedest to paint her evil through and through, aren't you, son?"

  C.C. blinked. Was he? He moved restlessly. "I'll be in touch. Sorry to leave you in the lurch like this. God knows, it's not your fault."

  "It's not Pepi's, either," Ben said enigmatically. "When you want to know the whole story, you might ask her side of it. But cool down first. And have a safe trip."

  C.C. started to say something, but he closed his mouth. "Take care of yourself. Happy Birthday," he added, withdrawing a small package from his breast pocket. "I wish it could have been a happier one."

  "I'm getting a whole coconut cake," Ben reminded him. He grinned. "Nothing makes me happier than not having to share it."

  C.C. chuckled softly. "Okay. See you."

  "Yes. I hope so," Ben added under his breath when the younger man had gone. He opened the package. It was a tie tack with a gold maverick head. He grinned. Leave it to C.C. to pick something he really liked.

  He went back into the kitchen, hesitant about ap­proaching Pepi. But she was calm enough, dishing up supper.

  "Ready to eat?" she asked pleasantly. Only the faint redness of her eyes attested to her earlier misery.

  "Sure. You all right?" Ben asked.

  She nodded. "Right as rain. There's just one thing. I don't want to talk about it. Ever. Okay?"

  He agreed. And she was her old self, on the surface at least. What Ben couldn't see was the agony under her calm expression, the pain in her heart. She was sure she didn't love C.C. now. A man who could be that cruel didn't deserve to be loved, and it was his fault anyway. He was the one who'd forced her to get married. But he made it sound like she'd trapped him! Well, they'd see about that when he came back again. He'd never have to worry about having her heart at his feet ever again!

  She served her father his favorite foods for supper and gave him his present—a new pipe and a special lighter for it—-with a huge slice of coconut cake. She pretended to be happy, and hoped he wouldn't see the truth. She didn't want to spoil the rest of his birthday.

  "There's just one thing you might think about," he said before she went up to bed later. "A man who's caught against his will isn't going to give in without a fight."

  "I didn't catch—!" she fumed.

  "You aren't listening. I mean a man who's fighting his own feelings, Pepi. I think he's got a case on you, and he doesn't want to face it. He won't take it lying down. He'll give you hell until he accepts it."

  She knew better than to let herself dream again. She couldn't take another disappointment in love. "I don't want him anymore," she said bluntly. "I should have married Brandon in the first place. At least he doesn't yell at me and accuse me of things I didn't do. He's fun to be with and even if I don't love him, I like him. I sure as hell don't like C. C. Tremayne!"

  "Don't marry one man trying to forget another one," Ben cautioned. "It'll only hurt Brandon and yourself."

  She sighed. "I guess so. But I might learn to love him. I'm going to do my best to love him. I hope C. C. Tre­mayne never comes back!"

  "God forbid. If that happens, the ranch will go under," Ben chuckled.

  She threw up her hands and climbed the staircase.

  But she didn't sleep. She wondered if she ever would again. She felt sick all over, hearing C.C.'s angry words every time she closed her eyes. Eventually she gave up even trying to go to sleep. She got up and cleaned the kitchen until dawn, an exercise that proved adequate to take her mind off C.C.—for two minute stretches, at least.

  By the time Ben had finished his breakfast, she was dressed for church. He didn't say a word. He went and put on his suit and they drove to the little Methodist church five miles down the road.

  When they got home, with Pepi still brooding and withdrawn, Brandon Hale's car was parked at the front steps. She got out of her father's car and ran to Brandon as fast as her legs would carry her.

  Ben, watching, frowned. Trouble was sitting on the horizon, and he wondered where this new complication was going to land them all.

  Chapter Six

  Brandon gaped at Pepi when she told him what was going on. They'd just finished a sparse lunch and her fa­ther was bringing the coffee tray into the living room where they were sitting.

  "You're married?" Brandon groaned.

  "Not really," she said quickly. She fingered her skirt while she gave him the details. "So, you see, it's just le­gal on paper, and only until I can get it annulled."

  "C.C. knows, I guess?" Brandon persisted.

  "Boy, does he know!" Ben Mathews muttered. He brought in a tray with three cups of black coffee on it. "If any of you want cream, you can go get it," he added as he put it down on the coffee table in the early American decor of the living room.

  "Well, what did he say?" the younger man asked.

  "You couldn't repeat it in mixed company." Ben sighed.

  "He was furious," Pepi volunteered. She stared at her skirt. "I guess I can't blame him. He doesn't know the whole story, and I was too upset to try to make him lis­ten. It doesn't matter anyway," she said miserably. "He said he sure didn't want to be married to somebody like me."

  "He was in shock," Ben said stubbornly, staring at her averted face. "A man has to have time to adjust to news like that."

  "How long will an annulment take?" Brandon asked.

  "I'll find out in the morning. I'm going to see our attorney," Pepi told him. "Maybe it won't take long. Heaven knows, C.C. will do his best to rush it through. I hope I don't have to have the marriage license," she added, frowning. "C.C. took it with him."

  "Where'd he go?" Brandon asked.

  "tQuien sabe?" Ben shrugged.

  "At least it's not a real marriage," Brandon said gently, patting Pepi's soft hand in her lap. "You scared the life out of me."

  "Well, it's definitely not real, so you can relax," Pepi said. "Drink your coffee, Brandon. Then we can go rid­ing. I need to get out of the house."

  "Good idea," Ben seconded. "And I can start on the books."

  "It's Sunday!" she protested.

  "I know that. I'll eat my cake while I work on them. That will make it all right. Besides," he chuckled wickedly, "we went to church first."

  She threw up her hands and went to change into jeans and a T-shirt.

  Brandon stayed until late, and Pepi was glad of his company. She hardly slept that night, and early the next morning she went to see the family attorney.

  Mr. Hardy was sixty and very abrupt, but under his bespectacled, dignified manner, he was the best friend that the Mathews family had ever had..

  "Don't have the license, hmm?" he murmured when Pepi had told him the whole story. "No matter. I'll go ahead and draw up the papers for the annulment. Have C.C. come in and sign them Friday. Meanwhile, don't worry about it. Just one of those things. But if I were him, I'd keep away from liquor from now on," he added dryly.

  She smiled. "I'll try to make sure he does that," she replied gently.

  There, she told herself later, it was done. The wheels were in motion. In no time, she'd be plain old Penelope Mathews again, not Penelope Tremayne. The thought depressed her. She'd wanted so badly to keep the name, to have the marriage real and wanted. But C.C. had made no secret of his feelings on the matter, or of his patent disgust with the idea of Pepi as a wife. She wondered if she was ever going to be able to forget the wounding things he'd said to her.

  On an impulse, she stopped by the local department of labor office to see what kinds of jobs were going for women
with minimum typing skills. Fate was kind. There was a receptionist's job open with a local insurance agency. She went over to inquire about it, and was hired. She was to start on the following Monday, a week away—on the condition that their valued receptionist, who'd just had a baby, stuck to her decision not to return. They couldn't refuse her if she wanted her job back, and they promised to call Pepi if she wasn't needed.

  Well, if that didn't work out, she'd find something else, she promised herself. There was just no way she could stay on the ranch now that this fiasco had oc­curred. Every time she saw C.C, it would rip her heart open. And if he made fun of her, or taunted her about the almost-marriage, it would be unbearable. Probably he still hated her. That might make it easier. Ben needed him, so she couldn't demand that he be fired. She'd just have to find a graceful way out of the dilemma for all of them. Despite the hurt, she loved C.C. more than her own life. She could leave the ranch and find a room in El Paso, and a job. That way her father could have his very necessary foreman and she could have peace of mind. Besides, Brandon lived in El Paso. He'd look out for her. She might even marry him. He was kind and he cared about Her. Surely that was better than living alone.

  By Wednesday afternoon, C.C. still hadn't come back. Wednesday night, Brandon took Pepi to a cattleman's association meeting with him. It was a dinner meeting, and Pepi enjoyed not only the meal but the discussion about range improvement methods that followed it.

  She'd worn a new mustard-colored rayon skirt with her knee-high lace-up Apache moccasins and a Western-cut patterned blouse. Her reddish-brown hair was around her shoulders for a change, and she'd put on enough make­up to embellish her face. She looked pretty, and Bran­don's interest was echoed by several single men present.

  Her drooping spirits got quite a lift. She smiled and talked and laughed, and by the time they left the meet­ing, she was relaxed and happy.

  That mood lasted until they got to the front porch and Brandon bent to kiss her good-night. Before he reached her lips, a coldly unapproachable C.C. sauntered into the light from the darkened corner where he'd been sitting.

  "Oh, hello, C.C," Brandon said hesitantly. He raked a hand through his red hair, glancing worriedly at Pepi's suddenly white face. "I'll call you in the morning, Pepi. Good night!"

  He darted off the porch. Pepi watched him go so that she wouldn't have to look at C.C. One glimpse told her that he was wearing a charcoal-gray suit with a pearly Stetson, and that he looked dangerous. Smoke from the cigarette in his lean fingers drifted past her nose as Bran­don waved and drove out of the yard.

  "Where have you been?" he asked, his deep voice ac­cusing.

  "I've been to a cattleman's association meeting, C.C," she replied, moving unobtrusively away from the threat of his powerful body. She turned and went into the house, leaving C.C to close the door behind them.

  "No word of welcome?" he asked sarcastically.

  She didn't look at him. She couldn't bear to see the expression in his eyes. She started toward the staircase, but he reached out to catch her arm.

  Her reaction caught him off guard. She jerked her arm away from his lean hand and backed against the stair­case, her wide, dark eyes accusing and frightened.

  His thin lips parted on a sharp breath. "My God, you're not afraid of me?" he asked, scowling.

  "I'm tired," she said, averting her face. "I just want to go to bed. Mr. Hardy says you can come in and sign the annulment papers Friday," she added. "I started proceedings and I'll pay for them. You won't have to be out a penny. Is Dad in his study?"

  He frowned as he lifted the cigarette to his lips. "He's over at the bunkhouse, talking to Jed. I don't want you seeing Hale while you're legally married to me."

  She hesitated, but it wasn't really much to ask. And she was too tired to argue with him. "All right, C.C," she replied dully. "Maybe the annulment won't take too long."

  His eyes narrowed to angry slits. "In a hurry to put Hale's ring on your finger?" he asked.

  "I don't want to fight with you," she said quietly, meeting his gaze with an effort. It disturbed her, the way he was looking at her. It made her heart race, her knees tremble under her. "I've got a job," she told him. "I start Monday. Then I'll look for a room or something in El Paso. You won't. . . You won't have to worry about run­ning into me all the time around here."

  "Pepi!" he said huskily.

  She whirled. "Goodnight, C.C.!"

  She ran all the way upstairs and into her room, clos­ing the door with hands that trembled, with tears run­ning down her pale cheeks. So he was back. Back, and spoiling for trouble. That didn't bode well for the fu­ture.

  She got into her gown, washed her face, and climbed into bed with a long sigh. She was reaching for the bed­side light when her door suddenly opened and C.C. came in, closing it behind him.

  Pepi froze with her hand out, all too aware of the way the almost transparent green gown she was wearing out­lined her body, left the upper curve of her breasts bare. With her hair around her pale shoulders, she looked very soft and feminine, and C.C. was getting an eyeful.

  "What do you want?" she asked uneasily.

  "To talk," he replied. He pulled up a chair beside the bed and dropped into it. There were new lines in his face, and he looked as tired as she felt. He'd discarded his suit coat and tie and rolled up the sleeves of his exquisite cot­ton shirt, its neck unbuttoned to his collarbone. Dark curly hair peeked out between the loose buttons and Pepi had to force her eyes back up to his face. She didn't like being reminded of his vibrant masculinity. She wasn't his type, and he didn't want her. She had to remember that.

  "About the annulment?" she asked hesitantly. She sat up against her pillow, demurely pulling the sheet over her breasts, an action that C.C.'s faintly amused eyes didn't miss.

  He watched her hungrily. The days he'd been away, a lot of things had been settled in his mind. He'd brooded about his own situation until he'd given some thought to Pepi's. That was when he'd realized how much he owed her. She'd been the best friend he had, ever since he'd come to the ranch. But he'd repaid her loyalty by hurt­ing her, making her feel unwanted. Now he had to put things right, if he could. Perhaps telling her the truth about his past might be a good first step. If she under­stood him, she might be able to forgive the things he'd said to her before he left.

  "No," he said after a minute. "I don't want to talk about the annulment right now. I want to tell you about me." He leaned back in the chair and crossed one long leg over the other. "I was born in Jacobsville, down near Victoria," he began, watching her while he lit a cigarette and fished for an ashtray on the dresser. He grimaced as he emptied jewelry out of it and put it in his lap. "I have three brothers, two older, one younger than I am. We're in the cattle business, too, except that we deal in pure­bred cattle—Santa Gertrudis. Our land came from one of the early Spanish land grants, and we've always had money."

  She watched him, astonished at the revelation.

  "I got married years ago. I was getting older, I was lonely," he shrugged. "I wanted her. She was my age, and a wild woman from the word go. We both liked dangerous sports, like shooting the white water." His fingers clenched on the cigarette, and there was sud­denly a faraway, tormented look in his dark eyes. "She went everywhere with me. But that weekend, I wanted to get away. She had this tendency to smother me; had to be with me every minute, night and day. After the first few weeks we were married, it got so I couldn't stand and talk to one of my brothers without having her in my pocket. She was insanely jealous, but I hadn't realized that until it was too late. Well, I signed up for a rafting trip down the Colorado and went without her. But when I got to the river with the rest of the group, she was there waiting. We argued. It didn't do any good. She was hell-bent on going." He took a draw from the cigarette. "The raft capsized on a bad stretch and she went under. We searched for the better part of an hour, but by the time we found her, it was too late." He looked straight at Pepi, his eyes cold. "She was three months pregnant."


  "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "That must have been the worst of it, for you."

  He was surprised at her perceptiveness, although God knew why he should have been. Pepi always managed to see things that other people missed. "Yes, that was the worst of it," he confessed. "I was never able to find out if she knew about her condition, or if she didn't care. She was a free spirit. She wasn't really suited to marriage. If she'd stayed single, she'd probably still be alive."

  "I'm a fatalist," Pepi said, her voice gentle. "I think God chooses when we die, and the circumstances."

  "Perhaps you're right. But it's taken me three years to come to grips with it. I inherited her estate, and she was as wealthy as I was. That was one reason I came here, started over again from scratch with your father. I wanted to get away from money and see what I could do by the sweat of my own brow. I inherited most of what I had. It's been fun, making my own way."

  "It's been a lifesaving experience for us," Pepi said. "We owe you a lot. And you were a mystery to us, but you always seemed to fit in very well."

  "Except for one day a year," he mused sadly. "Every year on the day it happened, I go a little crazy. I didn't know how much I wanted a child until it was too late."

  She searched for the right words to comfort him. "C.C, you're still young enough to marry again and have children," she said hesitantly.

  His eyes narrowed. "But I am married, Pepi. To you."

  She felt her cheeks stinging with heat. She averted her wounded eyes to the coverlet. "Not for long. Mr. Hardy said an annulment would be no problem at all."

  "I'd like to know what happened that night," he said after a minute.

  "Not a lot. You were stinking drunk in a bar in Juarez. I went in to get you out, you made a lot of insulting re­marks, and then you said since I seemed to be forever nursemaiding you, I might as well marry you. In fact, you threatened to land us in jail if I didn't."

  His eyebrows arched. "I did?"

  "You did," she muttered. "I wasn't sure what to think. You were pretty loud and you sounded serious to me. Mexican jails are easy to get into and hard to get out of. I had visions of us languishing down there for months while Dad went nuts trying to get us out."