The Passionate Lover
Carole Mortimer

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

THE heavy snow beat with icy determination against her numbed cheeks as she stumbled through its blinding thickness, the fashionable black anorak she wore no defence against its relentlessness. Kenny had written and warned her that the Montana winters could be harshly cold, but she had knowingly thought only of the icy English winters she had known all her life, little dreaming that when Kenny said harsh he meant so cold the snow had turned to stinging icicles before it even reached the ground. Consequently the fleecy anorak and fashionably tight denims tucked into high-heeled boots were little protection against the blizzard she suddenly found herself in.

And it was a blizzard. She may never have experienced one before but she knew she was in the midst of one now. The snow was already feet deep in places, and as it fell fast and furious against her face and body it gave no indication of stopping for some time, the dryness of the minus-thirty temperature taking her breath away as she fought her way slowly forward.

She wasn't even sure how she had come to wander off in this way, had been sure, when she first realised she could no longer see the blue four-wheel-drive truck, that Kenny would find her within minutes. But more than minutes had passed now; she seemed to have been wandering around for hours. And she wasn't even sure she was going in the right direction! She could even be walking around in hideously lost circles.

She took a firm grip on herself at that thought. Kenny would find her any second now. He had to!

She couldn't help thinking how different the life she had lived here the last two weeks was from the one she had made for herself in London during and since her marriage to Gavin. Shelby O'Neal, one of London's most successful and exclusive hostesses living on a ranch in Montana, even seriously planning to marry one of the Double K's owners. The first part of the Double K she was sure she loved, the second part…! Kyle Whitney, Kenny's older cousin, was someone she preferred not to think about.

But as the slow, painful minutes passed and she still stumbled through the blinding blizzard in the fast darkening night one thought possessed and held her horror-struck brain. She was going to die out here in this frozen wasteland!

Her legs felt so tired as she struggled to stay upright in the deep snow, and she could no longer feel her toes in the leather boots, the hard snow that fell against the sensitive skin of her face now feeling like painful needles digging into her. She wasn't winning this fight, and although not normally a defeatist she knew she couldn't fight and win this battle against such fierce elements. She was going to die, out here alone in the snow, was just going to collapse and die of the cold and no one would even know it had happened. For a wild hysterical moment she wondered if anyone would care! Then she berated herself. Kenny would care, they were to be married in a few weeks’ time. Then why hadn't he found her, damn him?

She was being unfair now. But this whole situation was unfair. The tears dried on her cheeks before they barely had time to fall, and she wiped at her face impatiently. Twenty-five was too young to die, especially when she had so much to live for. If it wouldn't be so damned futile in this howling wind she would scream—Scream…! Why not? It was a sure fact that Kenny wouldn't be able to see her in this, but there was a chance, just a chance, that he might hear her if she screamed.

Shelby knew it was hopeless even as she opened her mouth to emit the cry for help. The words seemed to be thrown back at her as the wind whipped eerily about her, and she knew that the sound of her voice had just added brief depth to the wind before it was swallowed up. It was futile, she was being a fool to tell herself any differently. No one could find her in this weather, she could be miles from where she and Kenny had got out of the truck to admire the beautiful scenery of the snow-covered mountains, the snowfall only light then, or she could, alternatively, be only feet away and just unable to see him.

Whatever, she was too tired to care any more. She had never felt so tired and utterly helpless in her life before, just wanted to lie down and sleep until it was all over. The crisp white snow suddenly looked like an inviting bed of floating clouds, warm and inviting, like the arms of a lover.

And maybe she would have laid down in his arms and slept forever if she hadn't found the cabin.

To say she found the cabin wasn't strictly true, it found her. Actually she walked into it. Her visibility was down to nil by this time, her body one long ache, and when she walked into the solid object in front of her she assumed it was just another of the tall pine trees she had managed to avoid as they suddenly loomed up in front of her in her haphazard walk. The blow she received to her temple as she made contact made her head ring, and she fell to her knees in numbed pain and despair, sure she wasn't going to be able to get up again. Then she realised the object that had caused her so much pain was too big to be a mere tree, the shape of the wood seeming to indicate the tree lay horizontal rather than vertical. She almost had herself convinced she was hallucinating when in her stumbling her hand suddenly encountered a door handle and she actually fell inside the cabin.

It was very dark inside, too dark to see if it had any occupants, and Shelby looked into the gloom warily. She may have got herself into a worse situation than before! ‘Er—Hello?’ Her voice came out quivering with uncertainty, all of the self-confidence she possessed as the owner of O'Neal's, a women's salon in London, seeming to have deserted her in the face of this previously unthinkable danger.

When she realised there was going to be no reply to her tentative query, not even a stirring of movement inside, she knew there was no occupant, her breath leaving her with a relieved sigh. A sigh that was quickly followed by deep-rooted panic. If there was no occupant of the cabin then she was still alone, with no way of knowing where she was or if she would ever get out of here alive.

But at least she was alive now, and with shelter from the harshness of the wind and snow she could remain that way for a time. Perhaps there would even be the makings of a fire to keep her warm tonight, and tomorrow—Tomorrow Kenny would find her, she was sure of it.

She stumbled inside, closing the door—and the icy cold wind—behind her. It was dark inside, so dark she couldn't make out her surroundings at all. God, if only she smoked, then she would at least have had a lighter or matches in the pocket of the jacket that had so far proved useless. But she didn't smoke, and so consequently she didn't have any matches, only an instinct that told her the fireplace would be directly across from the door if there were one. And surely any self-respecting owner of such a remote cabin would leave matches on the mantelshelf? It was all she could hope for.

The cabin proved to be wider across than she had imagined, although the fireplace was there, and miraculously, so were the matches! Her hands trembled as she ripped off her gloves and struck one of the precious matches, looking around in wonder at the well-stocked and provisioned cabin. Whoever it belonged to couldn't be that far away, possibly just in the nearest town for a few days’ shopping and seeing friends. Whoever he was she felt grateful to him, would leave a note of explanation and reimbursement for anything she used.

One thing she had discovered on that cursory look around the cabin were some old-fashioned oil-lamps, and she lit one of them with her next match, grateful for its cheering warmth as she took stock of her surroundings. There was certainly no luxury to be found here, but there was the fireplace that would soon warm her, and a wood-burning stove that she would be able to use to heat up food and water on. She had never camped out in her life, never stayed anywhere this primitive before, but she had a feeling she was going to be plunged in at the deep-end, that she had to learn, and quickly, if she were to survive. It wasn't even night yet, only early evening, and the temperature that was already more severe than anything she had ever known before could get even lower during the night hours, making her first priority the lighting of a fire.

She was sure it wasn't the best fire anyone had ever built, and the stove threw more smoke out into the room at first than went up the chimney, but she soon fixed that by adjusting the door so that it fit into place better, and the fire threw out enough heat for her to be able to remove her jacket and take stock of the rest of the room.

For the cabin was only one room, well-planned to give the maximum amount of space, but still only one room for eating, sitting and sleeping. Four bunk beds, two on each side of the room, one above the other, stood at one end, a small sitting and eating area in the middle, and the wood-burning stove at the other end to cook on. But the furniture looked clean and serviceable, the scatter-rugs on the floor giving it a homely touch. Rustic charm, her London friends would have said it had, although they would have expected plumbing and electricity to go along with that charm. Shelby was sure it didn't have the latter, and it didn't seem to have plumbing either. But at least she was safe from the blizzard, the inevitability of dying fading as the warmth increased in the room.

Quite when the noises outside began to bother her she didn't know, but halfway through drinking the soup she had heated she suddenly had the impulse to lock and bolt the door. The noises were only the ones of the storm, she knew that, the wind and the swaying creak of the surrounding trees, and yet the feeling persisted, so much so that in the end she did lock and bolt the door just to settle her own mind. It wasn't just the human factor that frightened her, it was the wildlife too. A Londoner born and raised, she hadn't even seen a real live cow until she was ten years old, and then only because the school had taken them on a trip to a farm for the day. Kenny had told her they had deer and other small harmless animals in the thousands of acres of valley and mountains that was the Double K ranch, but she hadn't thought to ask if they had bears too.

Every noise outside now seemed to take on frightening proportions, and she jumped nervously as a branch of a tree crashed against the window. But was it a tree? It could be a bear, or a wolf! She had read books and seen films where people had gone insane as a creature of the night stood watch outside cabins like this.

Was that what she was doing? Surely she was made of sterner stuff than that? She had lived through, and survived so much the last few years, surely she was strong enough not to crack up at the sound of natural forest noises?

But were they natural? She could have sworn she heard something moving about outside just now, and not just the random noises of the wind and trees but a definite pattern around the cabin. Her hands tightened about the mug that contained her soup, her eyes wide with fear as she looked towards the door expectantly.

The first rattle of the door frightened her so much the mug of soup dropped out of her hand, and she stood up to back against the wall as it rattled once again, an eerie sound, much like a growl, accompanying it this time. God, there was a wild animal out there, and it sounded as if it were going to break in at any moment!

Shelby had never been so terrified, listening as the predator moved away from the door to circle the cabin once more. Her heart rose in her throat as she saw the furry face at the window, her breathing seeming to stop altogether as a hairy paw struck the window pane, the eerie growl accompanying the fierce tapping movement.

The window! God, she had locked and bolted the door and forgotten to shutter the windows! As she hurried to do so the face appeared at the window again, and she stepped back with a scream, her hands shaking so badly now she was incapable of closing the shutters even if she had wanted to. She watched the door with horrified fascination as the creature outside began to pound against the wood, sure that the bolts and lock would give at any moment, splinters already starting to break away from the top bolt.

She huddled down in the corner of the farthest bunk bed. Suddenly there was an ear-splitting splintering of wood, and the door banged open with such ferocity Shelby couldn't hold back her gasp of horror and fear.

Heavy fur framed the aggressive face, cold grey eyes turned on her in total assessment. ‘Why the hell didn't you open the goddamned door?’ Kyle Whitney grated in harsh condemnation, throwing back the furred hood of his thick jacket to reveal his overlong dark hair, snow-coated at the front of it.

Shelby only had time to recognise him before the faintness became a black fog and she fell backwards on the bed in total collapse, still unsure whether her unexpected visitor was a predator or friend…

She was still lying on the bunk bed when she woke up, although she had been moved into a more comfortable position, a heavy down quilt placed on top of her to keep her warm.

Her panicked gaze flew across the room, hardly daring to move as she once again recognised the harshly glowering profile of Kyle Whitney as he stared into the flames of the roaring fire. He looked more human now, the heavy jacket removed, the frozen snow that had clung to his face and hair now melted, leaving his hair curling damply against his forehead and ears, hair that although carelessly styled grew overlong to the dark sweater he wore. He was drinking what smelt like coffee, his narrow-eyed attention fixed sightlessly on the fire as he took huge swallows of the warming brew. He looked hard and unapproachable, much as he had the first time she had seen him two weeks ago.

She had met Kenny Whitney in London six months ago, an accidental meeting when he had called to collect one of the girls who worked in the salon. He had come back to the salon many times after that first meeting, but to see Shelby now, and not Anne. The other girl accepted the loss of his attention with shrugging nonchalance, quickly finding herself another companion. Shelby found it less easy to adapt to this change of affections, refusing all Kenny's invitations with a cool disdain she hoped would quickly dissuade him. It hadn't. His pursuit of her had been relentless and persistent, so much so that after she had watched him stand outside her flat in the rain for over an hour one evening she had finally relented and invited him in.

He had stayed several hours that evening, the two of them discussing everything and nothing, Shelby finding his life that was so different from her own very interesting, Kenny in London on a year's agricultural course, his cousin and partner back in Montana running the ranch in his absence. Kenny's life was everything she had ever read life on a ranch could be, and he was everything she would have expected a modern-day cowboy to be, rugged, tough, and very decisive. So decisive, in fact, that when he asked her to see him again she found herself agreeing, her earlier reluctance forgotten under the warmth of his slow charm.

The next two months had been the happiest she had known for a long time, Kenny insisting they meet whenever they could, his passionate but undemanding loving just what she needed to make her respond to him as she had to no man since Gavin.

And then the two months had ended, and with it Kenny's time in England, his presence now needed back in Montana. Shelby had done her best to hide her disappointment, knowing she was going to miss him. Nevertheless, she was surprised when he asked her to go back to Montana with him. She hadn't accepted him, of course. It was only a year since she had lost Gavin, another serious relationship was out of the question just yet.

But Kenny had been persistent, even from a distance, writing to her constantly, always repeating his offer for her to go out to Montana, pleading with her almost. Until finally she had agreed.

She had been aware of Kyle Whitney's disapproval of her from the moment Kenny had brought her back to the ranch from the airport. It wasn't that the older man was actually rude, but his contemptuous amusement whenever he spoke to her was enough to let her know he didn't like her and saw no reason to make an effort to be polite to her.

But if Kyle Whitney didn't like or approve of her he came as something of a shock to her too. She had assumed he would be in his early or mid-twenties, as Kenny was, instead he was in his mid-thirties, hard and cynical, seeming to view everyone and everything through a jaundiced eye. He was also one of the most handsome men she had ever seen, his body lean and muscular in the faded denims and thick shirts he usually wore, his hair almost black although run through with strands of grey, dark brows over piercingly light grey eyes, a hawklike nose, and a mouth that looked as if it should have had a sensual curve to it, but which was habitually set in a thin straight line of disapproval.

It was set that way now as he continued to look into the fire, and after the way he had verbally attacked her after forcefully entering the cabin she was loath to remind him of her presence, the door bearing evidence of having been repaired, something he would have had little patience with.

But as if becoming aware of being watched he suddenly turned in her direction, his eyes narrowing in steely acknowledgement as he saw her looking at him in return. He stood up slowly, moving with the natural grace she had come to associate with him. ‘Coffee?’ he questioned with the minimum of effort she had also learnt was usual for him.

She sat up, forgetting any idea she might have had of pretending she was still asleep. ‘Please,’ she nodded acceptance, moving to sit in one of the two chairs placed either side of the fireplace as he handed her a steaming mug of coffee. She drank it thirstily, needing its warmth despite the heat that now permeated the room from the roaring fire.

Kyle still stood over her, dark and threatening. ‘Perhaps now you wouldn't mind answering the question I asked you a short time ago, namely why I had to break my way in here?’ he drawled with disdain.

Shelby couldn't prevent the hot colour that flooded her cheeks, mumbling into her coffee mug.

‘What did you say?’ he bit out impatiently.

She looked up at him with blazing green eyes, her reddish-gold hair falling just below her shoulders in silky waves as she bent her head back. ‘I thought you were an animal of some kind,’ she repeated resentfully.

His mouth twisted. ‘What kind?'

She sighed. ‘A wolf, or a—a bear. I just didn't know!’ she added irritably as he began to smile, a smile full of that contemptuous amusement he viewed her with.

‘We don't have either in this part of Montana,’ he told her dryly.

‘Well I wasn't to know that!’ she snapped.

‘Lady, you're a walking disaster,’ he lowered his long length into the chair opposite her. ‘You wandered off to God knows where thinking you could be eaten alive! What are you, stupid, or just plain dumb?'

‘Neither!’ she flashed at his derogatory attitude. ‘I didn't let you in, did I?'

‘No,’ he acknowledged ruefully. ‘But if I had been a bear, perhaps a hungry grizzly, maybe I would have found you delectable enough a morsel to stick a paw through the window and drag you outside.'

Shelby repressed the shiver of revulsion and fear as he put into words what had been going through her mind only minutes earlier, knowing he wanted to frighten her. ‘I just forgot to put the shutters up—–'

‘They wouldn't have stopped a hungry grizzly.'

‘Then why bother to have them?’ she snapped, noticing they were shut now.

‘To keep the warmth in and the cold out,’ he mocked her stupidity.

So that was the reason for the added warmth in the room. She had a feeling this man was always right, that he was never made to feel the fool that she was now. ‘How did you find me?'

‘With extreme difficulty!’ he rasped grimly.

Too late she realised her change of subject was even more inflammatory than the original one. Damn the man, couldn't he see she had had a scare? Kenny would have been comforting her by now instead of berating her in this way. ‘I'm sorry,’ she muttered, resentful of his coldness.

Kyle looked unimpressed with her apology. ‘I've had a dozen men out looking for you ever since Kenny came back to the house and told us what had happened,’ he bit out. ‘I hope to God they've all had sense enough to go back home!'

She could see that he had a right to be angry with her, although she hadn't deliberately set out to get lost. She couldn't help wishing it had been one of the other dozen men who had been the one to find her! ‘I didn't need you to come looking for me,’ she told him quietly. ‘I could have found my way once the blizzard calmed down.'

Contemptuous grey eyes raked over her mercilessly. ‘Could you really?'

‘Yes!’ Her eyes flashed again.

He gave her a look that spoke volumes. ‘And just when do you expect the blizzard to stop?'

‘I don't know,’ she shrugged. ‘But I'm sure I could have managed until it did—–'

‘You didn't even know where the water supply was!'

‘I—–'

‘Did you?’ he rasped forcefully.

She had been wondering where he got the water to make the coffee, but she was too proud now to tell him so. ‘I can melt snow as easily as you did—–'

‘Always supposing you got up enough courage to open the door,’ he cut in again with cold derision. ‘And I didn't melt the snow. There's a sink over there—–'

‘But no taps,’ she said hastily. ‘I've already looked.'

‘There's a lever just above it,’ he told her in a calm voice. ‘It will give you all the water you need. It's pumped up from an underground stream.'

‘You seem to know this cabin very well,’ Shelby snapped her resentment of his contempt.

‘I should do,’ he drawled. ‘It's on Double K land.'

She should have realised that! She had got lost on Double K land, so it stood to reason, with the thousands of acres they owned, that she hadn't wandered off it. She felt even more foolish than ever. ‘What is this place?'

‘My men use it during branding, it saves time if they don't have to ride out each day,’ he explained with barely concealed impatience for her naïveté.

She resented his use of the word ‘my’ men, knew that he and Kenny were joint owners of the ranch. Although Kenny didn't seem to mind that his cousin gave most of the orders, had probably learnt from experience that Kyle was a man who simply didn't take or obey orders from anyone.

‘When can we get out of here?’ she asked abruptly.

He shrugged, very relaxed as he leant back in his chair. ‘Your guess is as good as mine.'

Shelby gave him a sharp look. ‘What do you mean?'

He tilted his head towards the door. ‘Hear that?’ he quirked dark brows.

‘The wind?’ she frowned.

‘The wind,’ he nodded mockingly. ‘The weather report forecast it will continue all night, possibly during tomorrow too.’ He gave her a meaningful look. ‘And while the wind keeps howling we keep sitting here.'

Shelby had gone very pale, swallowing hard. ‘You mean we could be—be snowed in here?'

‘I mean we already are snowed in here. Even if another drop of snow doesn't fall we're still stuck.'

‘There's no need to be sarcastic—–'

‘There's every need, damn you!’ Suddenly the relaxed pose had gone, to be replaced by a man full of fury, a fury that made his eyes glitter dangerously. ‘I don't have the time to spare to come chasing after a stupid idiot like you, let alone spend days out here baby-sitting!'

‘Baby-sitting!'

‘You heard me,’ he rasped. ‘You have no idea how to fend for yourself—–'

‘It isn't exactly a wilderness!'

‘No?’ He stood up, pulling her roughly to her feet, his calloused hand digging painfully into her nape as he dragged her over to the window to throw back the shutters. ‘Look out there,’ he ordered through gritted teeth. ‘And tell me what it is if it isn't a wilderness.'

She wanted to protest that he had no right to treat her this way, that even if he didn't like her he could at least treat her with a little respect. But the sight that met her eyes silenced any protests she might have made over his rough handling. Although the wind still raged the snow had stopped falling, and every way that she looked a deep white blanket stretched into the distance, no familiar landmarks in sight, just snow and more snow wherever she looked.

‘I had no idea…’ she breathed softly, in awe of the terrifying beauty outside.

‘Of course you didn't,’ he scorned, releasing her to resecure the shutters. ‘Like I said, you're a complete novice when it comes to surviving in conditions like this.'

Once again his contempt angered her. ‘And I suppose you're an old hand at it?’ she challenged recklessly.

Kyle folded muscled arms across his broad chest. ‘Let's put it this way,’ he drawled. ‘Which one of us, do you think, has the most chance of surviving out here alone?'

She flushed at his taunt. ‘That's an unfair question, you were born here—–'

‘Exactly,’ he nodded grimly. ‘So why don't you just bow to the inevitable and let me make the decisions from now on?'

‘That's something you're good at, isn't it?’ she was stung into retorting, not used to being treated as if she had less intelligence than a child. ‘Kyle Whitney gives the orders and everyone jumps to obey.'

His eyes narrowed to steely slits. ‘And that bothers you?'

‘No, it doesn't bother me,’ she flushed. ‘I just don't intend being another of the yes-men you surround yourself with—–'

‘Or women,’ he drawled mockingly.

‘Or women,’ she snapped irritably. ‘You chose to come looking for me, I didn't ask you to.'

‘Your sort never asks for anything, Mrs O'Neal,’ he bit out contemptuously. ‘But they take readily enough when something is offered to them.'

Shelby stiffened at his intended insult. ‘What are you implying I've “taken"?'

‘Kenny sent you the airline ticket to come out here, didn't he?’ Kyle reminded scathingly.

The plane ticket had been in Kenny's letter immediately after he had received her letter telling him she would go out for a visit. It hadn't been something she had asked for or needed, well able to pay her own airfare. But she had seen it as a gesture of Kenny's love. She certainly hadn't thought anyone would view her as a money-grasping mercenary because of it. Kyle Whitney didn't know how wrong he was!

‘You're wrong about me, Mr Whitney—–'

‘Am I?’ he derided harshly. ‘I don't think so. You're a young and attractive widow, and you came out here thinking Kenny would be a gullible meal-ticket.'

‘No—–'

‘Oh yes,’ he insisted coldly, his mouth turned back in a sneer. ‘When Kenny came back from England extolling the virtues of a beautiful widow I had some misgivings. When he dropped the girl he had been dating since high school because of you I knew I was right to be worried. But I thought time and distance would dull his memory of you, that he would soon get over the infatuation. But you didn't intend for him to do that, did you. Oh no, you wrote to him almost every day—–'

‘Twice a week,’ she defended indignantly.

The coldness of his gaze scorned her. ‘Whatever. It was enough to ensure that he didn't forget you, and that's the point I'm trying to make.'

Shelby had never been subjected to such injustice in her life before. Kyle Whitney didn't know the first thing about her, and yet he presumed to be her judge and jury on the insubstantial evidence he had picked up here and there about her. ‘Kenny is hardly a child that you need to—–'

‘He's two years younger than you are.'

She hadn't forgotten that fact; it had been one of the reasons she had been reluctant to become involved with him in the first place. But he had easily over-ruled that objection, and once she got to know him she hadn't really thought the two years mattered either. But as far as Kyle Whitney was concerned it was just another black mark against her. And his condemnation was unfair. Kenny had finished with his childhood sweetheart before leaving for London the previous year, and if his cousin didn't know that then it wasn't her fault, Kenny certainly didn't have to tell the older man everything. And she may have written to Kenny twice a week, but he had written much more than that, more like the every day Kyle Whitney had accused her of doing.

‘—although thank God he seems to have gotten over that now,’ Kyle rasped.

Shelby suddenly realised she had been so deep in thought she had missed this last scathing comment. ‘Sorry?’ she prompted with a frown.

‘You might well look concerned.’ The ghost of a smile creased the hard face.

He was a man who smiled little, she had learnt that over the last few weeks. The only time he seemed to relax was when he was out working with the men on the ranch. ‘Could you explain what you just said?’ She still frowned, puzzled by what he was trying to tell her.

He shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘Doesn't the fact that Kenny isn't one of the people out looking for you speak for itself?’ he drawled.

Shelby felt her heart give an uncomfortable lurch, watching Kyle with disbelieving eyes as he poured himself another mug of the strong coffee, almost as if he hadn't just dealt her a terrible blow emotionally. ‘Is he hurt in some way?’ she demanded, concerned.

Even white teeth gleamed against the mahogany skin as Kyle gave another brief, humourless smile. ‘I guess after the way he's been running around after you since you got here it must be pretty difficult for you to accept or understand that he just didn't want to look for you.'

‘Why?’ she asked through stiff lips, knowing that no matter how much this man may dislike her, he wouldn't lie to get her out of Kenny's life. But if what he was saying was true…!

Kyle sipped the coffee. ‘The argument you had must have been really something,’ he looked at her admiringly. ‘Or maybe he was just too disgusted after the way you walked off like that.'

‘But I—–'

‘It was a damn fool thing to do,’ he growled, the harshness back. ‘Even if you were mad at Kenny.'

‘But—–'

‘And when we get out of here I'll give you the hiding you deserve for doing it,’ he added grimly. ‘You might not have been found until the spring.'

Shelby gave up all effort of trying to defend herself. ‘The spring?’ she echoed dazedly.

He looked at her steadily. ‘When the thaw comes.'

She felt herself blanch as his meaning became clear. Although she was also concerned as to how he had got the impression she and Kenny had argued; it simply wasn't true. And yet he said Kenny hadn't helped look for her. She didn't understand any of this.

CHAPTER TWO

‘MR Whitney—–'

‘I believe Kenny decided days ago it was to be Kyle,’ he rasped dismissively, moving with that minimum of movement that was so natural to him. ‘Now are you capable of helping me get us something for dinner? If not perhaps you could find some cutlery to put on the table.’ He was already engrossed in the contents of the tins in the cupboards over and under the sink.

‘I can cook, Kyle—–’ She snapped her resentment at his assumption that she didn't know one end of a kitchen from the other.

‘Thank God for small mercies.’ He gave her a look that implied he thought she was good for little else.

Shelby was well aware of how she must appear to him. A little over five feet in height, with gleaming red-gold hair just past her shoulders, a beautiful face dominated by thickly lashed green eyes, her slender figure shown to perfection in the dark green cashmere sweater and tightly fitting denims, he must be cursing the day she had walked into his life, must wish he hadn't come looking for her either!

‘Kyle, about Kenny—–'

‘He was on his way to see Wendy when I last saw him,’ he dismissed with cruel honesty.

Wendy Seymore was Kenny's old childhood sweetheart, Shelby knew that, she had even met the other girl on one occasion, an embarrassingly awkward time when Wendy had made no secret of her dislike of Shelby. In the circumstances she hadn't been able to blame the other girl, but she found it hard to believe that Kenny had left her out in the blizzard while he went to visit the other girl on her father's neighbouring ranch. It didn't sound like the Kenny she knew and loved. There had to be a logical explanation for his behaviour. If only she could think of one!

‘Look at this practically, Shelby.’ Surprisingly Kyle's voice had softened a little as he noticed her pained preoccupation. ‘You've had a free two-week holiday in Montana. It's more return than a lot of Women get.'

Her mouth firmed. ‘If you're implying what I think you are, Mr Whitney,’ the formality seemed perfectly fitting in the circumstances! ‘I can assure you that I haven't been paid for services rendered!’ Two angry spots of colour darkened her cheeks.

His calculating gaze moved over her with slow thoroughness, from the tip of her gleaming head to the boots on her feet, his eyes darkening as they encountered the latter. ‘You should have taken those off,’ he bit out accusingly. ‘They're wet through! I bet your denims are too,’ he added questioningly. ‘It's a little difficult to tell when they already fit so—snugly,’ he said derisively.

She knew the disparaging comment was warranted, but when she had done her shopping for this trip back in London these clothes had seemed ideal for the climate while still remaining feminine. She had only realised the absurdity of them when the denims were too tight for her to sit astride the horse Kenny had persuaded her to ride, the boots too high-heeled for her to walk with any degree of composure over the uneven ground of the Double K yards.

But Kyle was right about the denims being damp, the snow having been up to her thighs in places. Although what he expected her to do about the situation she didn't know. He must be as wet as she was, and neither of them had a change of clothes available. He soon had an answer to that!

‘I suggest you take off your clothes before you catch pneumonia,’ he continued at her silence.

‘Certainly not!'

‘And wrap up in a blanket until they dry,’ he added over her outraged comment.

‘There aren't any blankets,’ she told him with almost triumphant spite.

With a pitying glance in her direction he moved to the chests that stood beneath the two lower bunks, pulling them out to display more quilts like the one he had placed over her earlier, and also blankets and sheets, enough for all four of the bunk beds.

‘Help yourself,’ he stood up. ‘But for God's sake hurry up and get out of those wet clothes.'

‘You're as wet as I am!’ The way his own denims clung to the lean length of his muscular legs hadn't escaped her notice.

‘And I intend doing something about it as soon as I have you sorted out.'

‘I'm not a child—–'

‘Then quit acting like one!’ he suddenly exploded with temper, running one lean hand through the thickness of his dark hair. ‘Look, we're both tired, after being out in that how could we be anything else! I for one am too tired to argue with you about something as trivial as wet clothing. I'm also hungry, and when I'm hungry my temper gets frayed.'

‘You can say that again!’ she snapped, wishing he would stop talking down to her all the time.

‘And, obviously, so does yours,’ he added with pointed sarcasm.

She had the grace to look abashed. ‘I am a little damp,’ she admitted softly. ‘Hungry too.'

‘Then the sooner you undress the sooner we can eat,’ Kyle wasn't prepared to give an inch. ‘I'll make up the fire, you can change here,’ he added impatiently as she made no effort to move while he stood there watching her, striding across the room to begin throwing logs on the fire, his back firmly turned towards her, rigid with displeasure.

‘Er—–'

‘What is it now?’ His impatience was coming to boiling point as he turned to glare at her.

‘The bathroom,’ she explained reluctantly, embarrassed at having to ask him about something so personal.

‘There isn't one,’ he derided.

‘I know that,’ she flushed as he deliberately misunderstood her. God, she wasn't stupid enough to think there would actually be a bathroom out here! ‘I don't want a bath, I'm asking where the—–'

‘It's outside,’ he finally took pity on her discomfort. ‘At the side of the cabin. This place wasn't built to be used as a winter home,’ he told her without apology for the fact that she had to go out in the cold once again. ‘It's used for a few weeks in the spring and summer, there's no reason to have the bathroom inside. The food is kept in stock here just in case,’ he added grimly.

‘In case some irresponsible woman goes and gets herself lost,’ Shelby finished tersely, knowing that was what he had been implying.

‘Exactly,’ he nodded abruptly. ‘Take one of the lamps with you,’ he instructed. ‘I'd hate you to wander off and get lost again.'

She bit back the angry retort that hovered on the edge of her lips, knowing that anything she had to say would only give him the opportunity to make yet another blistering condemnation of her. Besides, her very real need for the bathroom was more important at the moment, and after pulling on her hat, jacket and gloves she picked up the lamp to leave.

‘It's to the right,’ Kyle suddenly told her, when he had appeared to be taking no notice of her.

Shelby flashed him a grateful look, almost knocked back inside by the freezing cold wind that hit her as soon as she opened the door. The snow may have stopped falling for the moment but the wind howled on like a demented demon, driving her back as she fought her way to the small wooden building next to the cabin. By the time she had battled her way there and then back again she was beginning to wonder if it was worth it, feeling more exhausted than ever.

Kyle was still sitting where she had left him when she turned from forcing the door closed, although he frowned as he looked up at her. ‘Did you fall?’ he rasped, standing up.

The way he was moving towards her made her back up against the door, her eyes wide.

‘For God's sake,’ he bit out harshly. ‘I'm not so desperate that I would resort to forcing myself on a woman who, at the moment, resembles the attractions of a drowned rat!’ His eyes glittered dangerously. ‘You have a cut on your head, I merely wanted to take a look at it.'

Shelby felt very young and very stupid at that moment. Which was ridiculous! She was a very capable and successful busineswoman in London, her age and widowed status precluding her being young. But she would be the first to admit that she was out of her element in this situation, that although she disliked Kyle Whitney intensely, hated the way he constantly reminded her how stupid she had been to get lost in the way that she had, she was very grateful that he was here. But she knew he didn't feel the same way, that he didn't find her in the least attractive, as she didn't him, but her nerves were at such a taut pitch her recoil from him had been instinctive rather than intentional.

‘I'm sorry,’ she muttered as he examined her right temple with surprisingly gentle fingers. ‘And I think I probably got that when I fell into the cabin earlier.'

His mouth twisted with derision where it was on a level with her eyes, but the scathing comment she had been expecting didn't come. Instead he concentrated on the cut. ‘It doesn't look too bad, although the skin is broken. I'll clean it up for you once you have those wet clothes off.’ He stepped back.

She hadn't realised just how close he was standing until the warmth of his body was removed, feeling a sudden shiver through her body. ‘Get undressed,’ Kyle mistook the shiver for one of cold, turning back to the fire to give her what privacy he could in the close confines of the cabin.

Her clothes clung to her damply as she peeled them off, making the task doubly difficult, the cold seeming to have seeped into her very bones, the blanket she wrapped around her sarong-wise saving her modesty but giving little real warmth. It was also rough and abrasive against her skin. And she didn't even have a brush for her hair. Reaction suddenly began to set in, and she sat down heavily on one of the beds as the tears cascaded down her cheeks.

Everything had seemed so wonderful until today. She couldn't have been happier, was marrying the man she loved; Kenny had even decided they should live in London after the wedding, dispelling her worries about the salon. Now she had got lost in the snow, had been told Kenny no longer wanted to marry her, and was stranded in a primitive cabin with no clothes but what she had been wearing, with a man who made no attempt to hide the fact that he despised her.

It was all too much, too sudden, and the tears fell unchecked, the sound of her sobbing finally causing Kyle to turn and look at her. ‘What the—–!’ He was across the room in two strides, sitting down beside her on the bed, pulling her into his arms, her face buried against his chest. ‘What is it, Shelby?’ he asked gruffly. ‘Tell me what's wrong?'

The man must be an insensitive clod if he didn't know. ‘Everything,’ she sniffed miserably.

‘Hey, we'll be all right. We'll be out of here in a few days, and then—–'

‘A few days!’ she wailed, crying harder than ever.

‘I'll see that you don't starve.’ He mocked the appetite the mountain air had given her the last weeks, having eaten as much as any man.

‘It isn't that,’ she choked, seeming to have trouble stopping the tears now that they had started.

‘Then what is it?’ His voice hardened. ‘Are you afraid you won't be able to survive here without the—companionship, my cousin has been providing?'

The insult was completely unwarranted, and her tears dried immediately. ‘For your information, Mr Whitney,’ she said icily, pushing him away from her, ‘I have slept alone every night since my arrival here.'

‘Why?'

‘W—why?’ she echoed in a puzzled voice. ‘I don't know what you mean.'

He shrugged. ‘Kenny would have been more than willing to share your bed. And I'm sure that some of my men wouldn't be averse to it either,’ he added mockingly.

She flushed her indignation, her near hysteria of a few moments ago all but forgotten. ‘You keep referring to them as “your” men in that arrogant way,’ she snapped to hide how deeply he had wounded her with his assumption. She had heard all the old clichés about young widows since her husband had died, the most popular crudely being ‘once you've had it you can't do without it', but she had only ever had one lover in her life, and that had been Gavin. She hadn't been in any hurry to replace him on the intimate side of her life, and not being a very sensual person herself she hadn't found that too difficult. Unlike some people, she didn't believe life, and happiness, revolved around the physical.

Kyle raised dark brows at her criticism. ‘Shouldn't I?'

The argument was ridiculous, she could see that. They were stuck here, possibly for several days—she refused to think it could be any longer than that!—and to argue about such a trivial matter when their lives could ultimately be in jeopardy was fruitless. ‘This is stupid.’ She stood up with impatient movements, the blanket securely in place. ‘We're alone out here, and somehow we have to survive, any unpleasantness between us is pointless.'

For a moment he seemed to hesitate, then he too stood up. ‘I'll put something on your forehead.'

‘It doesn't really hurt—–'

‘No senseless arguments, remember?’ he mocked, as he opened the full medicine cabinet kept in the kitchen area.

She stood perfectly still while he administered to the cuts on her forehead, doing her best not to look up at him, although it wasn't easy in the circumstances. A faint aroma of male aftershave clung to his skin, and with this came the realisation that he already had more than just a five o'clock shadow. Obviously he was one of those men who needed to shave twice a day.

‘You'll have to grow a beard,’ she said inconsequentially, blushing as he looked down at her with taunting grey eyes. And for someone who rarely blushed she was doing it a lot lately. Somehow this man had the power to make her feel incredibly young, gauche almost. It wasn't a pleasant sensation.

‘I guess I can stand that if you can,’ he drawled.

‘What do you mean?’ she frowned.

He finished putting the adhesive tape in place. ‘I've been told that a beard doesn't suit me.'

She felt sure that it wasn't so much that it wouldn't suit him; it would just cover too much of that ruggedly handsome face, would make him look almost demonic. ‘I can stand it,’ she muttered, turning away. ‘I'll get our dinner now.'

She was aware of those watchful grey eyes on her as she worked, was unaware of how attractive she looked with her hair soft about her makeupless face, the blanket revealing more of the perfection of her body than she realised—or would have wanted had she known.

Now that they had decided not to argue they seemed to have little to say to each other, the impromptu stew she had made from the tinned meat and dried vegetables eaten in silence.

‘You really can cook,’ Kyle said appreciatively after downing two platefuls. ‘We could do with you out here at branding time, Charlie is the worst cook I know.'

She gave the ghost of a smile at his attempt at light conversation, exhaustion making her slow to react to what she knew was a standard joke at the Double K. Everyone made derogatory remarks about Charlie Peterson's cooking, but Shelby had a feeling it was done more out of affection for the old man than from any real truth. ‘Your aunt told me she taught him herself,’ she said as she cleared the table of their crockery, putting it in the soapy water she had boiled.

Kyle grimaced. ‘That statement should speak for itself.'

Helen Whitney was one of the best cooks she had ever met; now she knew the jokes were only teasing. Kenny's mother ran the ranch-house with an iron will that matched that of her nephew, and Shelby had come to like her very much.

‘Let me do this,’ Kyle gently moved her away from the sink, his expression searching. ‘You look as if you're about all in. Get some sleep now, everything will seem different in the morning.'

She certainly hoped so, because everything seemed very bleak right now! Maybe tomorrow she would have the strength and mental capacity to ask him exactly what he had meant about Kenny. Right now she just wanted to sleep.

She did exactly that as soon as her head touched the pillow, heavily at first, and then the dreams began to intrude, dark frightening dreams of the snow falling in on her and burying her, bringing her to startled wakefulness. She looked about her dazedly for several minutes, despair washing over her as she realised where she was.

One of the lamps still burnt low in the cabin, and glancing at the man who slept across the room from her Shelby knew it wasn't for Kyle's benefit. He lay on his back, the face that could often be harsh and derisive smoothed out to look incredibly handsome, although the darkness of the beard that was already forming gave him a rugged look. His quilt had fallen back almost to his waist, his deeply tanned chest covered with dark wiry hair. It was a long time since she had seen a man even partially naked, and it was even more disturbing that Kyle Whitney should now be that man.

She turned away abruptly, feeling almost guilty for noticing the hard planes of his body, the skin a deep mahogany colour. She was in love with Kenny, and the attraction of his cynical cousin didn't matter to her!

And yet her gaze was drawn again and again to him, sleep eluding her. It sounded as if it were snowing again outside, and her heart sank at this further obstacle to them getting away from here, a closed-in feeling enveloping her until she began to move about restlessly.

‘Can't you sleep?'

She turned sharply at the sound of that soft rasp, blinking as she saw Kyle Whitney was now turned on his side as he leaned on his elbow looking across at her. She moistened her lips nervously. ‘I'm sorry if I woke you,’ her own voice came out in a whisper too.

‘You didn't,’ he dismissed. ‘Does your head ache?'

‘My head…?'

‘Where you fell and knocked it earlier,’ he explained patiently.

‘Oh. No,’ she shook her head. ‘I—It feels fine.'

‘Then why aren't you asleep?'

How could she tell him it was because the sight of his nakedness had disturbed her! God, she must be going insane, or snow-crazy! She disliked Kyle Whitney, and he despised her, so how could she possibly be physically disturbed by him?

‘Shelby?'

She shivered as she turned to find narrowed grey eyes on her. ‘I—It was the storm outside,’ she invented.

‘Was it?’ He clearly wasn't convinced.

She gave him a startled look. Surely he hadn't been able to guess the intimacy of her thoughts a few minutes ago? ‘I don't know what you mean?’ she frowned.

Kyle sat up completely, wrapping a blanket around his waist as he moved to throw more logs on the fire, his expression harsh as he stared down into the leaping flames.

‘Kyle?’ she prompted at his prolonged silence.

The eyes he turned on her were flinty with contempt. ‘Are you finding it lonely already?’ he rasped.

All colour left her face as he once again verbally attacked her. ‘I told you,’ she was breathing erratically, ‘I'm used to sleeping alone.'

‘But you aren't alone, are you,’ he pointed out as he crossed the room towards her.

She blinked as his meaning became crystal clear, realising how dangerous he could be in this frame of mind. ‘We don't even like each other—–'

‘Does that matter?’ he scorned.

‘To me, yes!’ she answered indignantly.

‘Why?’ He sat on the edge of her bed, so near Shelby could feel his body warmth. ‘I can assure you I'm much more experienced than Kenny is,’ he added derisively.

Shelby moistened suddenly dry lips. This was one way in which she had never thought of Kyle Whitney as being a threat, secure in the knowledge that he didn't like her. ‘Are you sure you aren't the one who's lonely, Kyle?’ she taunted to hide her fear. ‘For Mrs Judd?’ she added insultingly, the only occasions Kyle had left the ranch during the last two weeks having been on the evenings he visited the other woman.

His face darkened. ‘Sylvia happens to be the widow of my closest friend,’ he told her coldly. ‘I keep a protective eye on her, that's all.'

‘I'm sure you do!'

‘Chase would have done the same for me,’ he ground out.

‘In the same way?’ she derided. ‘Then it must indeed have been a “close” friendship the two of you had!'

She knew she had gone too far even as he reached for her, expecting to be shaken until her teeth rattled, instead finding herself pulled up against his hair-roughened chest, the quilt falling down so that her bared breasts were crushed against him, the nipples over-sensitive where she hadn't been touched so intimately in such a long time.

The colour flooded her cheeks as Kyle leant back to view her instantaneous reaction, his eyes darkening to black pools of desire. ‘Kyle, please—–'

‘You have beautiful breasts,’ he murmured as if she hadn't protested, bending his head to suck one of the pert tips into his mouth, his dark lashes fanned out against his cheeks as he became intent on arousing her with the sharp nip of his teeth and the moist caresses of his tongue.

Shelby's hands came up to push him away, but as the quick-fire excitement surged through her body her fingers curled into him in spasmodic pleasure. Always a sensitive part of her body, her nipples ached for the caress of that moist mouth, her breath catching in her throat as Kyle gave the other breast his full attention.

‘Like ivory velvet,’ he muttered against her skin, trailing a path of warm kisses down to her navel as he lay her back on the bed, his tongue, tasting her, exciting her. ‘But you're warm,’ he said softly as he moved even lower. ‘So very warm.’ His hand moved slowly from her knee to her thighs, gently parting them. His mouth traced circles on her skin.

It was madness, utter madness to let him continue, and yet this seemed to be a time out of time, almost a dream. And she didn't want to wake up, had never known such a wealth of sensual delight. Gavin had been a very gentle and considerate lover, he would never have dreamt of silencing her reluctance in such a blatantly physical way.

Gavin. God, if not for herself she had to stop this for him, out of respect for his memory, and the warm and loving relationship they had always had. By acting like a wanton she was not only being unfaithful to that memory she was also convincing Kyle that he had been right about her all along, that any man would do to share her bed in an emergency.

But even so it took some seconds for her to formulate enough strength of will to stop him, her body moving and reacting to his slightest command, opening to him as it had never done before, burning with a need to reach fulfilment.

But Shelby couldn't let herself reach that fulfilment, no matter how much she needed or wanted it, her fingers rough in his hair as she pulled him up to her. ‘I meant please stop,’ she lied, her pride already in shreds. ‘Please stop kissing me, Kyle.'

For a moment he looked dazed, then cold reality returned to the bleakness of his eyes, his mouth twisting as he looked down at her flushed nakedness. ‘But I didn't kiss you, Shelby,’ he pointed out softly. ‘Not here, at least,’ he touched her lips with a hand that smelt of her body.

Confusion washed over her as she realised he only spoke the truth. He hadn't kissed her mouth, not once had he acknowledged her with that intimacy. She had been a female body for him to arouse and caress, she as a person hadn't mattered to him, he couldn't have shown her that any more clearly.

He looked down at her with coldly merciless eyes. ‘Should I apologise for showing you I was right about you?’ he derided with contempt.

She swallowed hard. ‘No…!'

‘Don't look so stricken, Shelby,’ he moved back to his own bed, his expression mocking as she instantly pulled the quilt up over her nakedness. ‘I was merely saving you the trouble of trying your wiles on me now that Kenny has put himself out of the running.'

‘I—–'

‘You see I'm not interested in more than slightly used goods,’ he added sneeringly. ‘And certainly not a woman on the make like you are.'

Shelby was very pale, from the shock of her own actions as much as from his insults. She was about to marry his cousin, she deserved every insult he hurled at her about her morals! ‘You're so wrong about me,’ she began pleadingly.

‘Am I?’ His eyes looked her over coldly, making Shelby conscious of her tousled hair, languorous green eyes, and passion swollen lips. ‘Then what would you call what happened between us just now?’ he scorned. ‘An impulse?'

‘I don't know what happened just now!’ she blushed, knowing exactly what had almost happened. It had been so long for her, so very long, since a man had looked at her the way he had, since she had ached to be touched. But it shouldn't have happened with this man, should never have happened at all. ‘It doesn't mean that I want or expect anything from you—–'

He gave a harshly humourless laugh. ‘What could you possibly expect from me?'

‘I just told you, nothing—–'

‘Too damn right I owe you nothing!’ he rasped grimly. ‘I think I should warn you now that I don't react well to blackmail, no matter how charmingly it's presented.'

Shelby gasped. ‘I didn't—–'

‘It sounded suspiciously like it to me.’ He looked at her coldly. ‘I made love to you just now for one reason and one reason only, to prove to you that no matter what opinion you may have of what you're doing I know that any man will do for you. But I don't intend being Kenny's replacement, not in bed or in a monetary way. I realise this set-back with Kenny must have upset your plans somewhat, but it would take more than a little seduction on your part to make me offer you marriage.'

‘I didn't seduce you,’ she protested. ‘You were the one who came to my bed!'

‘After I found your gaze on me like a caress,’ he scorned. ‘You were begging for me to make love to you.'

‘No!'

‘Yes,’ he hissed. ‘But little mercenaries like you don't interest me in more than a fleeting capacity.’ His gaze flickered over her contemptuously. ‘I hope I make myself clear?'

‘You think of me as a one-night stand,’ she said disgustedly.

‘How aptly put,’ he derided with distaste. ‘I knew exactly what you were and what you were after before we even met,’ he added with disgust.

‘And that is?’ she prompted stiffly.

‘Surely it's obvious?'

‘I'd like to hear, nonetheless.'

He shrugged. ‘After the life you've lived Kenny must have seemed like a heaven-sent opportunity,’ he scorned. ‘He was young and alone, and far from home, an easy conquest for the lonely little widow,’ his mouth twisted, ‘Thank God he came to his senses in time!'

‘The life I've lived?’ she prompted an explanation, not understanding what he meant. As far as she knew her life had been nothing out of the ordinary. This man obviously didn't agree with her.

‘You're very young to have been left a widow to fend for yourself. I'm sure that when you married your husband you envisaged a long and happy life with him, maybe even contemplated having children,’ he added as if he doubted it.

‘Is that so unusual?’ she frowned.

‘No,’ Kyle shook his head. ‘But he had the inconvenience to go and die on you.'

‘That's a foul thing to say!’ she choked on her anger. ‘I loved my husband very much.'

‘The same way you love Kenny?’ he dismissed. ‘That sort of love isn't worth having.'

‘And what would you know about any sort of love?’ she accused insultingly.

His mouth tightened. ‘I know that a year after your husband's death, this man you're supposed to have loved, you were tired of trying to make it alone, of working in a hairdressing salon to support yourself—–'

‘I don't just work in the salon, I own it,’ she told him forcefully.

‘And I'm sure the profit you make just about covers the cost of your rent and costs!'

‘You don't know what you're talking about!'

‘I know that you saw Kenny for a fool, a fool who could give you back the life of relative ease you no doubt enjoyed with your husband. But don't take me for the same kind of fool, Shelby, because I can assure you I'm far from being that. Far from it!’ he repeated with feeling.

She knew that, what she didn't know was where he could have gained such an impression of her. Oh he had all the basic facts right, he just had the conclusions all wrong. And she didn't understand why. ‘Where did you get your information from?’ she asked slowly.

‘Some of it from Kenny,’ he shrugged. ‘The rest I pieced together myself.'

She wondered which parts were which, but was reluctant to ask him in the circumstances. ‘Then we both know where we stand, don't we?’ she said softly.

‘Yes!’ he grated.

‘Then we may as well go back to sleep,’ she yawned as if to add to her impression of tiredness, whereas in reality she had too much on her mind to fall asleep. ‘And hope we can get out of here tomorrow,’ she added hopefully, needing desperately to talk to Kenny, knowing that only he could supply the answers she needed.

‘I wouldn't count on it,’ Kyle muttered roughly.

‘Oh but I am,’ she said with heartfelt feeling as she turned on her side towards the wall, remaining that way, determined not to even look at him to see if he had fallen back to sleep.

Her thoughts were racing, dark unhappy thoughts as she remembered the conversation she had had with Kenny yesterday, a conversation that on reflection seemed to have turned her life about once again. She had thought Kenny understood at the time, that it hadn't mattered to him, but now she wasn't so sure. The facts that his family seemed to have about her, facts only he could have told them, seemed to conflict with reality, making her wonder why he had lied to them.

Worst of all, she was no longer sure her wandering off in the blizzard had been an accident!

CHAPTER THREE

SHE hadn't deliberately set out to deceive anyone, had always intended Kenny to know the truth about her, she just hadn't thought it important enough to mention to him before now. Everything had happened so fast since her arrival in Montana, Kenny's proposal only two days later, and then the frantic wedding preparations, that they had barely had a moment to themselves to talk about anything, let alone something so private.

But yesterday they had stolen a couple of hours to themselves, and Shelby had chosen that time to tell Kenny about Gavin and her marriage to him. He had listened without a flicker of emotion to all that she had to say, had seemed to treat her the same as he usually did for the rest of the day.

But he had gone to see Wendy when he had known she was lost, possibly in danger, which didn't speak of a man in love. She didn't even consider the fact that Kyle could have lied to her about that, Kyle Whitney was basically a truthful man, he wouldn't lie to achieve his objective of getting her out of Kenny's life. She seemed to have done that effectively herself! How could she have even guessed that Kenny would react the way that he seemed to have done to what she had told him? Not that it hadn't been important, she knew that it was, but she hadn't thought it would matter to a man like Kenny. Obviously it did.

Her love for him refused to die completely, wouldn't do that until she had heard the truth from him herself. But it was her pride that hurt her the most right now. She had been reluctant to become involved with Kenny in the first place, had been persuaded into going out with him by his boyish charm. It hurt to now think that boyish charm had all been a pose, that she hadn't been his main interest at all. Because she knew now exactly what had been.

Did Kyle realise what sort of man his cousin was? Somehow she doubted it, the two men seeming the best of friends. And if she could be fooled by Kenny, after having been suspicious of all entanglements since Gavin's death, then what chance did Kyle have?

God, she felt so humiliated! She had placed her whole life and happiness in Kenny's hands and he had thrown them back at her as if she meant nothing to her. What sort of man was he, how could he—–

‘Still can't sleep?'

She stiffened as Kyle asked her that question for a second time tonight, but she made no reply, feigning sleep, letting the tears fall silently for the pain and humiliation she had suffered at Kenny's selfish hands.

‘Shelby?’ Kyle prompted in a whisper, not convinced by her act at all.

Again she ignored him, not wanting to speak to him now, needing the protection of silence against his rapier tongue, knowing that with his suspicious mind he was sure to misunderstand the reason for her tears. He had ridiculed her enough for one night, and he obviously didn't know the full truth about her, the real reason Kenny had changed his mind about marrying her, and until she had spoken to Kenny she didn't care to discuss it with him.

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