Chapter 1 #2
His father had been a harsh man, preferring to rule his 'kingdom' with an iron fist. Bryson had chosen a different method.
During Ian McNab's time, the ranch hands had served in fear and had only stayed on because of the excellent salary and benefits, but there had been a lack of morale that had been evident.
Bryson had seen it, had been privy to it, because he had started out as a lowly stable hand.
His father had believed in him learning the business from the ground up.
Bryson thought the old man had done him a great favor.
He had gone off to university to be properly educated, but most of what he had learned had been from working the ranch.
He knew everything about the place and would never dream of going anywhere else.
He sat there on his pawing horse, gazing at the acres of grounds, the cattle grazing, the outbuildings with satisfaction.
It was a satisfaction that had been marred by unbidden thoughts of the woman who had left.
He believed he had wrenched her from his heart, but recently, thoughts of her had filtered through his mind.
He was with someone else now, a beautiful woman who would never dream of arguing with him at every turn.
It was bloody good that she had left and he had been right not to go after her like a lovesick moron.
She didn't belong to his world, and it was fortunate that he had found out before he foolishly asked her to marry him as he had been about to do. Damn her! he thought bitterly.
She had wrapped herself around his heart and turned him into putty.
For a week after she left, he had spent the nights in a cold sweat, aching to feel her slender curves against his. Each time he closed his eyes, it was to see her beautiful mahogany eyes laughing into his and her intoxicating lips that had driven him to incredible insanity.
Sighing harshly, he effortlessly vaulted from Thor, taking the reins and tying them around a sapling.
Removing his hat, he raked long fingers through his unruly dark hair as he walked towards the stream bubbling over smooth rocks.
It was late and it looked like they were in for one of those summer storms. His duties were finished for the night.
He had checked the perimeters for more breaks in the fence and rounded up some cattle that had wandered away from the others.
He was exhausted and hungry, having missed the meal the men had prepared near the barn.
By the time he returned to the ranch, supper would have ended, but he was restless.
For some unknown reason, he was feeling moody and incredibly sad, and he was thinking of her.
He had a decision to make. His mother was pressing him to make his relationship with Sara-Lee a permanent one.
She did not understand that he was not ready.
Hunkering down, he trailed his fingers through the cold clear water, a frown tugging at his brow.
Julianne was saucy and impudent. She was bold and did not give one hell about the words that came out of her mouth. They had argued incessantly and made up with a passion that had left him breathless. She had made an impression on him that seared through to his soul.
"Jesus Christ!" he whispered fiercely, getting to his feet with the lithe grace that years of riding the range had accomplished.
He was three inches over six feet and had the long, lean body of a wolf.
The muscles in his forearms bunched and flexed as he stretched his hands out and cracked his fingers together.
Bending to pick up the hat he had dropped, he jammed it back on his head and turned towards his waiting horse.
He could go to Sara-Lee and try to get rid of the sudden tension in his loins.
She wouldn't mind him going to her at this late hour.
In fact, she would welcome him without argument and open arms.
With that thought in mind, he mounted his horse and set off to his destination.
"I apologize," he muttered. The mortification was almost suffocating. First he had tracked dirt inside her foyer, and then to compound the indignity, he was having difficulty performing. And true to form, Sara-Lee was very forgiving. "I should go."
"You don't have to." Sara-Lee reached out to grab his arms, her fingers hesitant.
Turning his head, he silently studied her face.
She was flushed from the kisses they exchanged, turning her alabaster skin into a pink and white color.
Her thick blonde hair was spilling over her left shoulder.
The vision before him would have made any man want to ravish her.
But not him, he thought bitterly. He had thought that he could lose himself in her and forget, but it had backfired.
"We could talk. You must be tired. I could open a bottle of wine and sit on the porch. It's a lovely night..."
"It's going to rain." An amused smile touched his sensuous lips.
"Why yes." She nodded agreeably, her expression earnest, and then it struck him why he was only mildly interested.
She agreed with him no matter what. Perhaps it was her nature, or she was afraid of rocking the boat, but a woman who hung onto his every word as if it was gospel was not his idea of an ideal mate.
He wanted more. He had had more. Julianne had argued her point.
In fact, she had argued about every bloody thing.
If he said the sky was blue, she would find something to disagree about.
She would point out that it had a spot of white clouds dotting the surface.
Their conversations had always been heated and interesting.
And it was not fair for him to be comparing the woman in the bed with the one who had deliberately left him.
Sara-Lee was kind and gentle, and nothing was wrong with that.
He should be thankful for some calm in his life.
After the horrible relationship with his father, a man who thought that sparing the rod and spoiling the child was a mortal sin, he should be striving for peace.
With Julianne, that had been sorely lacking. The woman was like a bloody firecracker, in bed and out of it.
Gently removing her hand from his arm, he rose and walked to the window.
"Are you upset with me?" The tentative voice had his broad shoulders stiffening.
That was another sore point: the need to always please him.
He must be a damn fool, he thought ironically.
Most men would love the fact that a beautiful woman's sole purpose was in giving them pleasure, but oh no, not him. Something must be very wrong with him.
"Have you done something to upset me?" he decided to play devil's advocate and get her to snap out of her complacency. He wanted to see if she had some fire in her.
"I-I'm not sure."
He could see her reflection in the clear glass and noticed that she was biting her lips. It made him feel like a brute who had kicked a helpless kitten. He turned to face her then.
"Do you know what I want, Sara-Lee?" he asked softly.
Her face lit up then and she nodded eagerly. "Just tell me."
Biting back a sigh, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his faded jeans and leaned back against the cold pane of glass.
"I want you to have your own opinion. I want very much for you to disagree with me, if it comes to it. Can you do that?"
Her light blue eyes stared into his guilelessly and he felt his frustration worsening.
He knew her to be an intelligent woman. She sat on several committees and was president of one of their several banks.
She had been in that position for over five years and under her management, the business had flourished.
But she was trying too hard. He had a sinking feeling that she was deliberately not rocking the boat because she wanted desperately to become Mrs. Bryson McNab, and that was what he was afraid of.
He did not know her, at least not that well.
They had been out to dinner, and he had flown her to Paris and Rome twice.
He was generous with her, finding it easy to give her expensive gifts, and she had been gracious in accepting them.
He knew that being with him had elevated her status in town and had earned her the respect as the woman he was going exclusive with.
His mother deemed her as suitable because she had been born here and was from a very good family.
He had to admit that he had been leaning towards a permanent relationship.
He was thirty-five years old and he needed an heir.
He needed a wife to go home to and eventually children to fill that rambling ranch he called home.
Over the years, the yearning for a family had started and had increased dramatically since meeting and falling in love with Julianne. She had shattered his dream and left him floating aimlessly.
"I can. It's just that you always say the right thing."
His mouth twisted slightly and he sighed inwardly. It was like flogging a dead horse. Suddenly lightning sliced through the leaden sky and lit up the room. It also gave him the excuse he needed.
"I have to go."
"You could stay," she suggested softly.
"Not tonight." Striding towards the chair where he had placed his jacket, he pulled it on and jammed his hat on his head. "Another time perhaps." He sent her a slight smile. "I'll lock up behind me."
"Bryson?" Her soft voice stopped him as he reached the doorway.
"Yes?" He turned around.
"I know I'm not her, but I'm trying. I want to please you."
Guilt soared through his body and had him shaking his head. "I don't want you to be like her." He did not insult her by pretending ignorance. "I want you to be your own person."
"If you give me the chance, I can make you love me." She looked so earnest saying it that he was tempted to reassure her that it was all good. But he knew it wasn't and he had some thinking to do.
"Don't worry about it." Another jagged lightning lit up the room. "I'll call." Leaving the room, he closed the door and headed out into the driving rain.