Hawk's Way: Carter & Falcon. Joan Johnston
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and she wanted to look her best. It had become a habit to sit at an angle before the dresser, so only the good side of her face was reflected back to her. She forced herself to face forward, to see what Carter Prescott would see.
There was no way to disguise the scar. It was a white slash that ran from chin to temple on her right side. Plastic surgery would have corrected it, but she didn’t have the money for what would be purely cosmetic work. She put another layer of mascara on her lashes and freshened her lipstick. And she let her hair down. It was the one vanity she had left. It spread like rich brown silk across her shoulders and down to her waist.
She smoothed her black knit dress across a body that was curved in all the right places, but which she knew had brought her husband no pleasure. Desiree forced her thoughts away from the sadness that threatened to overwhelm her whenever she looked at herself in a mirror. She had to focus on the future, not the past. This was her last chance to make a good impression on Carter Prescott. She couldn’t afford to waste it.
But it took all her courage to open the bedroom door and walk down the stairs.
Carter controlled the impulse to gasp as Desiree entered the parlor. It was the first time he had seen her when she wasn’t shrouded in that moth-eaten coat. She moved with grace, her body slim and supple. Her dress hugged her body, revealing curves that most women would have died for. His groin tightened with desire.
He thought maybe his hands could almost span her waist. There wasn’t much bosom, but more than a handful was a waste. His blood quickened at the thought that if she were his wife, he would have the right to hold her, to touch her, to seek out the secrets of her body and make them his.
He wasn’t aware he was avoiding her face until he finally looked at it. His eyes dropped immediately to the brandy in his hands. He forced himself to look again, but focused on her eyes. They were a rich, warm brown, with long lashes and finely arched brows. It was clear she had once been a very beautiful woman. Once, but no more. The scar ran through her mouth on one side, twisting it down slightly.
“Did you pour a brandy for me?” she asked.
Carter realized he was staring and flushed. He welcomed the excuse to turn away, and shook his head slightly, aware he ought to do a better job of hiding his feelings. She had to look at that scar every day. The least he could do was face her without showing the pity he felt. He turned back to her with the drink in his hand and realized she had turned herself in profile, so he only saw the good side of her face. Desire stabbed him again.
He wondered if she had done it on purpose or whether it was an unconscious device she used to protect herself when she was with other people. At any rate, he was grateful for the respite that allowed him to speak to her without having to guard his expression.
Desiree took the drink from him. “Why don’t you sit down and make yourself comfortable?” She gestured to a chair near the fire and sat down across from him on the sofa so he saw only her good side. “I never gave you a chance earlier this evening to respond to my proposal.”
“I was glad for the time to think about what you had to say.” Carter took a sip of his brandy.
“And?” Desiree held her breath, determined to wait for his answer. Her nerves got the better of her. She couldn’t help making one last pitch. “You can see the house is comfortable.” She forced a smile. “And I’m a good cook.”
“Tell me again why you want to get married,” he said in a quiet voice.
Desiree debated the wisdom of telling Carter the real reason she needed a husband. She had always believed honesty was the best policy. When she opened her mouth to speak, what came out was, “I’ve been on my own for six years. Nicole needs a father. I…the winters are long when you’re alone. And I could use a partner to help me do the heavy work on the ranch.
“As you’ve seen for yourself, my face makes it impossible for me to attract a husband in the conventional way. I decided to take matters into my own hands.”
“Why me?”
“Your grandmother speaks highly of you.” She smiled. “And I haven’t forgotten how you saved Boots.”
“Boots?”
“My cat.”
He rubbed his thigh and grimaced. “Right.”
So maybe she didn’t know about his money, Carter thought. She wanted company. And a father for her child. And someone to do the heavy work on the ranch. That made sense. And he could understand why she didn’t trust a man to see beyond the scar on her face. He was having trouble doing that himself, although his body had responded—was responding even now—to the thought of joining hers in bed. She had beautiful eyes. In profile, the scar didn’t show at all. And in the dark…
He would be giving her something in return for something he wanted very badly. Carter knew he could put down roots here. This place felt like a real home. He wanted to make it his. Though Desiree apparently didn’t know it, he had the money to restore the Rimrock to what it had once been, to make it even better.
He wanted to ask her when and where she had gotten the scar on her face, but he figured that could wait until they got to know each other better. Assuming they did.
“I have two problems with your proposal,” he said.
Desiree had been certain he was going to say a flat no, so she welcomed the opportunity to overcome his objections. “What problems?”
Carter’s lips thinned. “I hadn’t counted on the girl. I’d want her kept out of my way.”
Desiree bristled. “This is Nicole’s home. I wouldn’t think of confining her to any part of it to keep your paths from crossing. If you can’t handle the fact that I have a daughter, this isn’t going to work.”
Carter was amazed at how Desiree’s eyes flashed like fire when she was angry. In that moment, her scar made her look like a fierce warrior. He nodded abruptly. “All right.” He supposed it wasn’t necessary for her to keep the child out of his way; he would do whatever was necessary to keep his distance from the little girl.
“And the second problem?” Desiree asked.
“I can’t agree to a marriage in name only.”
Desiree paled. Her heart pounded, and her stomach rolled over so she felt like throwing up. She couldn’t couple with any man, ever again. “Why not?” She forced out the words through stiff lips.
“I don’t plan to spend the rest of my life as a monk. I’d expect my wife to provide the necessary comfort on cold winter nights.”
Desiree flushed as his eyes boldly assessed her body. She found the man she had selected to be her husband quite handsome. But she had learned from bitter experience that a man became a beast when satisfying his sexual needs. She dreaded what he might expect of her. She was certain she had nothing to offer him.
But it would humiliate her to have her husband going to some other woman for his needs. In their small ranch community the talk would be bad enough if he married her. She didn’t want to give her neighbors any more reason to gossip.
“I’m willing to compromise,” she said at last.
“There is no compromise on this,” he said. “Either you’re willing to be my wife or you’re not.”
“I’m willing to be a real wife,” she assured him. “But not until we know each other better.”
Carter’s lips twisted. “How long do you expect that to take?”
“I don’t know.” Desiree looked him in the eye and watched as he stared back, careful not to let his eyes drop to her scar.
“All right,” he said at last. “I accept your proposal.”
CHAPTER THREE
THEY DECIDED TO BE MARRIED a week later in a civil ceremony in Casper. Desiree