Hawk's Way Collection: Faron And Garth. Joan Johnston
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way. She had noticed his restraint when he lifted her off her horse. On the other hand, he hadn’t exactly given her a choice of whether she was going to join him on the ground. She felt certain he wasn’t the sort of man to be denied something he wanted.
Nevertheless, she was inclined to accept him at face value. He was an open, friendly and—she would not deny it—handsome man…who knew his way around women. She had been charmed by that ridiculous name he had called her, Princess. And it was telling that he had tagged himself Cowboy, after that chivalrous knight of the Old West.
So what did he really want from her? She angled her head and took a long hard look at him.
“Something wrong?” he asked.
“You look familiar somehow.”
He grinned. “Maybe I’m the man you’ve been waiting for all your life.”
Her expression sobered. She was waiting for someone, all right, but it wasn’t the man of her dreams. Any day now she expected her stepson from Texas to arrive. For a horrified instant she wondered if this stranger with whom she had been flirting could be Faron Whitelaw.
But this man couldn’t be Wayne’s son. He didn’t look a bit like Wayne. Wayne’s well-trimmed hair had been almost white blond. This man had coal black hair hanging down over his collar. Nor did his gray-green eyes have anything in common with the cold sapphire of Wayne’s. And the Cowboy’s forearms, visible where his shirtsleeves were folded up, revealed a warm bronze tint totally different from Wayne’s light, easily freckled skin.
Did it really matter who he was? Would it be so awful if she stole an afternoon for herself with a perfect stranger? She had seen the admiration in his eyes, and it felt good. She had found him equally attractive.
He was extraordinarily tall, which was a good thing, since she had been as long-legged as a giraffe all her life. He had the rangy build of a cowboy, long, lean and strong. He had lifted her from the saddle as though she weighed nothing. And she had felt the play of muscle and sinew where her hand rested on his forearm.
Why not join in the Cowboy’s fantasy? Just for an afternoon. What could possibly go wrong?
“So what are you running from?” Belinda asked as she strolled with the Cowboy toward the nearby meadow.
Faron left the two horses with their reins dragging. A cow horse wouldn’t wander far ground-tied like that, and there was plenty of grass to keep the animals close.
“I think this is only going to work if we leave our problems behind us,” Faron said. “We can only talk about good things this afternoon.” He stopped and turned to face her. “Agreed?”
“It’s a deal,” Belinda said.
He lifted the hand he held, turned it over and kissed the center of her palm.
Belinda felt a streak of electricity shoot up her arm. She yanked her hand back reflexively, then laughed to cover the awkwardness it had created between them. “That tickled,” she murmured in excuse and explanation.
“Yeah,” he muttered back. Faron wondered if she had felt the same charge on her skin as he had felt on his lips. It had been an amazingly strong jolt to his system.
“Let’s sit down, shall we?” Belinda dropped to her knees near a patch of large, daisylike flowers. Nearby was a bunch of bright blue lupine. The top of the hillside was rimmed with Indian paintbrush. “We couldn’t have picked a more perfect spot for an afternoon idyll if we’d tried,” she said.
Faron’s eyes narrowed as he surveyed the countryside. “It is beautiful. It’s a shame…”
“What?”
“Nothing.” Faron wasn’t about to spoil his afternoon by thinking about his father and stepmother. He sat down and realized the ground still held the chill of winter. He pulled off his denim jacket and said, “Why don’t you sit on this? It’ll keep you from getting cold.”
“I don’t think—”
Again, he didn’t give her a choice. He spread his jacket on the ground, then slipped a hand around her waist and resettled her on the denim. “Thanks,” she murmured.
Faron’s gallantry won him a rare smile that made his heart skip a beat. “You’re welcome.”
Belinda immediately began making a chain from the daisylike flowers. Faron stretched out beside her, his head on his hand.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he said.
Belinda laughed. “Are you always so forthright?”
He felt his body tighten at the sound of her laughter. “I tend to say what I’m thinking.”
She looked up at him from under lowered lashes. “Then since we’re being honest, you’re quite good-looking yourself.”
He grinned. “Thanks.”
She laughed again. He was so different from Wayne. So carefree. She ought not to be here. She ought to be home, wearing black. Mourning.
“What are you thinking, Princess?”
The Cowboy’s voice ripped her from the melancholy that threatened her peace. “What?”
He smoothed the furrows on her brow with his thumb. She had to purposely hold herself still for the caress. It was the first one she had received in so long her skin seemed to come alive beneath his touch. When his fingers trailed into the hair at her temple she leaned away, and his hand dropped back to the grass.
“You looked worried,” he said. “I wondered what you were thinking.”
“That I shouldn’t be here.”
“No time for regrets now. We made a deal. Only happy thoughts.” Faron sat up and leaned his wrist on one bent knee. “Let’s see. What should we talk about?”
“When was the happiest time in your life?” she asked.
“It’s all been pretty good,” he admitted. Until lately. “I guess I’d choose the day I made love to a woman for the first time.”
Faron was both surprised and delighted by the blush that stained her cheeks at his revelation.
“I can’t believe you said that,” Belinda protested with a laugh.
“I warned you I was honest,” Faron said. “It’s your turn now.”
“The happiest time?” she asked. There was a long silence while she thought about it.
“It wasn’t that tough a question, was it?” Faron asked.
She grimaced. “I suppose the happiest time would have been before my parents died, although life was such a struggle on the ranch…” She shrugged.
Belinda could see the Cowboy was about to ask questions she would rather not answer, so she asked, “What did you want to be when you grew up?”
“That’s easy,” Faron replied. “The best.”
“At what?”
“Something. Anything.”
“That certainly gave you a lot of room to succeed,” she said teasingly. Apparently he hadn’t liked the idea of being tied down to any one thing. “Are you the best at something?”
Faron grinned. “I’m a damned good cowboy, ma’am.” He leaned back so she could see the rodeo belt buckle he was wearing.
Belinda laughed and realized suddenly it had been a long time since she had done so. “I should have known.” She leaned over and traced the writing on the buckle with her fingertips. Rodeo Cowboy All-Around Champion.
No wonder he had called himself Cowboy!
Faron held his breath as Belinda traced the face of the silver buckle with her fingertips. It was as though he could actually feel her