Tyler. Diana Palmer

wife whose affection he seemed determined to abuse. He was always watching Nell, and she looked forward to the day when they left.

      “You could have Tyler speak to Mr. Cova, if things get too rough,” Bella mentioned as she was setting the buffet table for lunch.

      “No, thanks,” Nell said quietly. “I can take care of myself.”

      She turned, almost colliding with Tyler’s tall form as he appeared quietly in the doorway. She mumbled an apology and dashed past him without a word. He watched her irritably for a minute before he swung himself into a straddling position over one of the kitchen chairs and tossed his hat onto the table. His lean, dark hands lit a cigarette while he nursed a warm regret for the friendliness he’d once shared with Nell. He felt as if he’d hurt her somehow. Her quiet sensitivity disturbed him. She touched a chord in him that no other woman had ever reached.

      “You’re brooding again,” Bella murmured dryly.

      He smiled faintly. “It’s just that Nell’s changed,” he said quietly, lifting the cigarette to his chiseled lips. “I thought we were going to be the best of friends. But now, when I come into a room, she can’t leave quick enough. She sends me messages through Chappy. If I need to see the books, she has somebody bring them to me.” He shrugged. “I feel like a damned leper.”

      “She’s just nervous around men,” Bella soothed. “She always has been—ask Chappy.”

      Tyler’s green eyes shifted and met hers. “It wasn’t like this at first. I couldn’t turn around without bumping into her. Do you know why things changed?”

      Bella shrugged. “If I did,” she said, choosing her words carefully, “she wouldn’t thank me for saying anything. Although she sure is quiet these days.”

      “Amen. Well, maybe it’s just as well,” Tyler murmured absently. He took a draw from his cigarette. “What’s for lunch?”

      “Open-faced roast beef sandwiches, homemade French fries, salad, homemade banana pudding and iced tea and coffee.”

      “Sounds delicious. By the way, I’ve added two new men on the payroll to help do some work on the equipment and renovate the stable and the barn. That’s going to have to be done before we finish haying, as I’m sure you know.”

      Bella whistled through her teeth. “Nell isn’t going to like that. She hates having to deal with new men.”

      He scowled at her. “What happened to her?”

      “I can’t tell you that. She’ll have to.”

      “I’ve asked, but all I got was the runaround.”

      “She’s a secretive person. Nell doesn’t talk about herself, and I won’t.” She smiled to soften the words. “Trusting someone doesn’t come easy to that child.”

      “Trust is difficult for most of us.” He tilted his hat over his eyes. “See you.”

      * * *

      The barn, like every other building on the place, leaked in heavy rain, but when it was sunny like today, it was cozy and plenty warm enough. Nell was kneeling beside a small Hereford calf in a rickety stall filled with green-gold hay, stroking its head.

      Tyler stood in the hay-filled aisle watching her for a long moment, his eyes narrowed in thought. She looked like Orphan Annie, and maybe she felt that way. He knew what it was like to live without love, to be alone and alienated. He understood her, but she wouldn’t let him close enough to tell her so. He’d made a mistake with Nell. He didn’t even know what he’d done to make her back off and treat him with such cool indifference. He missed the way things had been at their first meeting. Her shy adoration had touched him, warmed him. Because of Nell, he felt a kind of emptiness that he didn’t even understand.

      He moved closer, watching the way she reacted to his approach, the way her dark eyes fell, her quick movements as she got to her feet and moved out into the aisle. As if, he thought irritably, she couldn’t bear being in an enclosed space with him.

      “I thought I’d better tell you that I’ve hired two men, temporarily, to help with some repairs,” he said. “Don’t panic,” he added when he saw the flash of fear in her eyes. “They’re not ax murderers, and they won’t try to rape you.”

      She blushed furiously and tears burned her eyes. She didn’t say a word. She turned and stormed out of the barn, hurting in ways she couldn’t have told him about, old memories blazing up like bonfires in the back of her mind.

      “Damn it—!” he burst out angrily. He was one step behind her. Even as she reached the barn door, he caught her arm firmly to stop her. The reaction he got shocked him.

      She cried out, twisting sharply away from him, her eyes wide and dark and fearful.

      He realized belatedly that what had frightened her was the anger in his face, the physical expression of it in his firm hold on her. “I don’t hit women,” he said quietly, moving back a step. “And I didn’t mean to upset you. I shouldn’t have made that crack about the new men. Nell…”

      She swallowed, stuffing her hands into her jeans while she fought for composure. She hated letting him see the fear his violence had incited. She glanced away from him and her thick black lashes blocked his view of the emotion in her dark eyes.

      He moved closer, looming over her. His lean hands slid into the thick coolness of her hair at her ears and tilted her face up to his.

      “Stop running,” he said curtly. “You’ve done it for weeks, and I can’t take much more. I can’t get near you.”

      “I don’t want you near me,” she said, choking on the words. “Let go.”

      Her words stung his pride, but he didn’t let her see. “Tell me why, then,” he persisted. His gaze was level, unblinking. “Come on.”

      “I heard what you said to Bella that night,” she said, averting her eyes. “You thought I was just a kid, and when she told you how old I really was, you…you said you didn’t want a tomboy hanging from your boots,” she whispered huskily.

      He saw the tears before he felt them sliding onto the backs of his hands. “So that was it.” He grimaced. He hadn’t realized that Nell might have heard him. His words must have cut her to the quick. “Nell, I never meant for you to hear me,” he said gently.

      “It was a good thing,” she said, lifting her chin proudly as she fought down embarrassment. “I didn’t realize how…how silly I was behaving. I won’t embarrass you anymore, I promise. I liked you, that was all. I wanted you to be happy here.” She laughed huskily. “I know I’m not the kind of girl who would appeal to a man like you, and I wasn’t throwing myself at you.” Her eyes closed on a wave of pain. “Now, please, will you let me go?”

      “Oh, Nell,” he groaned. He pulled her close, wrapping her up in his arms, his dark head bent to her honey-brown one under the slouch hat. He rocked her, feeling the pain in her as if it hurt him, too. His eyes closed as he swung her in his arms, the close contact easing the tears, easing the pain. She wept silently at the sweetness of it, even while she knew that she couldn’t expect any more than this. A few seconds of pity mingled with guilt. Cold comfort for a lonely life.

      She let herself rest against him for one exquisite moment, loving the wiry strength of his tall body, the leather and tobacco smells that clung to his soft cotton shirt, the sound of his heartbeat under her ear. This would be something to dream about when he left. But now, she had to be strong.

      She pulled away from him and he let her go. She knew that there was no hope for her in his life. Margie was more like him—she was sophisticated and good-looking and mature. They’d hit it off like a house on fire, and Nell had to keep that in mind and not let her heart get addicted to Tyler. Because Margie wanted him, Nell was sure of it. And Margie always got what she wanted.

      She drew in a shaky breath. “Thanks for the comfort,” she said. She even forced a