Taming Talia Read online

  Grimacing with the effort it took and cursing, he half crawled, half scooted to the door. Dust and straw from the floor tickled his nose. He sneezed.

  The prospect of crawling another hundred yards through the snow didn’t hold much appeal. He glanced around the stable. If he could fashion something into a makeshift crutch, he might be able to hobble back to the house under his own steam. Otherwise, how long would it take an angry Talia to realize something was wrong?

  He scooted around until he faced one of the support beams. Careful. “God!” He’d forgotten his hip was bruised, and now it was already stiffening up. If he could get to his knees, he could get on his feet—well, one of them, anyway. A shovel would do for supporting his weak side.

  Jared gritted his teeth and rolled to his belly. A groan ripped from his throat. Damned if he couldn’t feel the ends of the broken bone rubbing together. No matter. He had to get back to the house.

  Pushing up from his elbows, he scooted his good leg underneath his body. Now for the other.

  Pain spiked through his leg to his hip. Damn. Damn. Damn. He clenched his jaw and gasped for air until the pain lessened. While holding on to the beam, he shifted his weight to his injured side. At least that knee was steady enough. Then he brought his uninjured leg forward until his foot was flat on the stable floor. He sucked in a deep breath and, bunching his thigh muscles, straightened his good leg, pulling his body to a standing position.

  Clinging to the post, Jared groaned and waited until the pain lessened. Once it had, he wiped the sweat from his brow. His good leg trembled, but his balance began to steady. He reached for the shovel.

  Now all he had to do was hop a hundred yards through the snow to the ranch house. There he’d find a relatively warm kitchen and food. And Talia.

  Dear, sweet Talia, who, if she knew why he was here, would probably shoot him and put him out of his misery.

  Chapter Eleven

  Natalia broke four eggs, gathered before the storm, into a bowl and started to whip them with a fork. Scrambled eggs would make a hearty breakfast, along with bacon and bread toasted in the oven. Too bad she didn’t have all the ingredients on hand for huevos rancheros. Sarita made the best tortillas and salsa around. While Natalia could cook, the few dishes were plain and simple ones because her friend and housekeeper cook had always been there. And she cooked so much better.

  And now because of that bastard’s arrival, Sarita had left them alone and probably perished in the snowstorm. Natalia’s throat tightened, and her hands shook. What she wouldn’t give to punish the bastard. Poison him. Now that would serve him right.

  As quickly as the drastic solution entered her mind, it fled. If she hadn’t poisoned old Reginald during the eight horrible years of their marriage, she wasn’t about to harm the man who’d saved her life.

  Still, for all his fine manners, he was a dangerous man. And up to no good if he thought he was going to pin Reginald’s death on her.

  Where was he, anyway? How long did it take to spread a little straw?

  Natalia dumped the eggs into a hot iron skillet. They sizzled as they hit the bacon grease left behind. The aroma hit her nose, making her mouth water and her stomach growl. While the eggs cooked, she continued whipping them. Light and fluffy was how she liked them.

  She glanced toward the door. Her patience was wearing thin. If he didn’t hurry his deceitful bones, the eggs would be cold and not worth eating. Four eggs were four eggs they wouldn’t have tomorrow or the next day—however long this blasted snow was going to last. The hens in the henhouse normally didn’t lay much in the winter, and that was providing they didn’t freeze to death in the meantime.

  Fine. Let the bastard starve. She dumped the scrambled eggs into a clean bowl and set it on the stovetop. Wiping her hands on her apron, she walked over to the door and peered out.

  There he was. Finally.

  But something was wrong. He was hobbling, holding on to something for support.

  Ignoring the cold, she opened the door and rushed outside. “Here. Put your arm around my shoulder. I’m steadier than a stupid shovel,” she said, taking the shovel and casting it aside. “What happened?” She wrapped her arm around his waist, providing additional support.

  He gazed at her as if she were an oasis in the desert. “Let’s just say your cow didn’t care to be startled and lashed out—without provocation, I must add.”

  The weight of his body was heavy, but together they struggled back to the ranch house. “What did you do to the poor thing? Is Daisy all right?”

  He stopped and stared. “Is she all right? She broke my damned leg.”

  “Can’t be broken. You’re putting weight on it.”

  “I heard it snap. Must be the smaller of the two bones. If the larger bone isn’t broken, it can support weight, but it hurts like hell.”

  “I see. So now you’re a doctor and obviously an expert in anatomy.”

  “Common sense. Besides, my older brother had a similar injury when he was a lad.”

  “Who stepped on him? Or should I say what?”

  Jared grinned somewhat sheepishly. “Something fell on him.”

  “What?”

  “Me.”

  “Figures.” Natalia reached for the door and opened it. “Go on. Breakfast is getting cold.”

  “Talia, you’re a heartless creature.” He took his arm from around her shoulder.

  “Heartless?” Calm down. Don’t give yourself away. “I cooked breakfast, and I rescued you, for pity’s sake.”

  “Rescued? Hmph.” He wrinkled his nose and sneered. “Hardly a rescue. I could’ve made it to the house.”

  “Yes, you could’ve. But don’t deny you were glad to see me.”

  “I won’t.” He hobbled the rest of the way into the kitchen.

  “Now sit. I hate cold eggs.” Try as she might, she couldn’t keep the brusque tone from her voice.

  Jared eased down onto one of the chairs. “Wait a minute.” She pulled out another chair. “Prop your leg on this one.” She reached for his boot and started to tug it off.

  “Easy, woman. It’s broken.”

  Natalia let out an exasperated sigh. “I’ll be as easy as I can, but that boot has to come off before there’s more swelling.” Straddling his outstretched leg, she gently pulled off his boot, then removed the other with a great deal less moaning on Jared’s part. “Now as soon as you eat, those pants are coming off. I’ll pack some snow around the break. It’ll help the swelling.”

  “Now who’s acting like the doctor?” He pulled off his gloves and set them on the chair beside his outstretched foot.

  “We’ve tended broken bones on this ranch before.” At least Sarita had. Trying to hide her trepidation, Natalia stood with her hands on her hips. “You’re not the first.”

  “I appreciate your expertise, then. Thank you, Talia.”

  If only she’d had expertise beyond watching Sarita’s ministrations.

  Even though the temptation to poison him, or at least smack his face, was strong, his soft tone reminded her how tender he was in bed. How he’d seen to her pleasure as well as his own. Giving herself permission to smile, she said, “You’re welcome. I guess it’s the least I can do for the man who saved my life.” Even if that same man was trying to find proof she’d had her husband murdered.

  She set the bowl of eggs on the table, along with a platter of bacon and buttered toast. “I trust you can help yourself. Nothing wrong with your hands?” She softened her words with another smile to keep from gritting her teeth.

  Easy. Easy. He was bound to get suspicious with the way she was acting.

  Jared held up his hands and wiggled his fingers. “All present and accounted for, ma’am.”

  “I’ll get a jar of preserves from the pantry. Just be a minute.” She fled the kitchen for the sanctuary of the storeroom. Her hands started shaking again. She felt like her whole body was about to explode. Somehow she had to regain a modicum of self-control. After several deep bre
aths, she felt calmer. At least calm enough to face him without taking the iron skillet to his head.

  Snatching a jar of gooseberry preserves from the shelf, she took one more breath, then headed back to the kitchen and Jared.

  Despite the throbbing in his leg, Jared wasn’t about to let Talia’s delicious breakfast go to waste. He ate a couple of bites of his eggs and then crunched down on a piece of bacon. He let out a moan of satisfaction. Eggs were still warm and the bacon was crisp, the way he liked it. As hungry as he was, though, it would take a side of beef to fill him up.

  Talia returned, bearing a jar of something. “Gooseberry preserves,” she said. “Hope you like them.”

  Her tone of voice clearly said she hoped he’d choke. Obviously, his untimely snooping still angered her. “Thank you. I’m sure it’s delicious.”

  “Don’t worry. I didn’t make it. Sarita did. I’m afraid I’ve been overly dependent on her.” A frown pulled her dark, wing-like brows together. “I can’t imagine what it will be like to live here without her.” Her bottom lip trembled. “She was the one who kept me going through eight years of hell.”

  He reached across and stroked the back of her hand. “It’s very likely she made it home in time. You’ll see.” More words of false hope, but hope was all he had to offer.

  “I hope you’re right.” She reached for a piece of toast and spread a dab of preserves over it. She took one bite; then, like an uneasy grasshopper, she sprang from her chair.

  “What is it?”

  “Your leg. I’ll pack your leg with snow now. I don’t want to wait. There’s some oilcloth stored in the pantry I can use.”

  “Please. Sit down and eat. My let’s not hurting…as long as I don’t move.” Not close to the truth. It throbbed and ached like it was caught in a vise. But Talia needed to eat and keep up her strength.

  “Are you sure?” she asked, hesitating.

  “I’m sure.”

  Talia picked up a strip of bacon and used it to point at him. “I hope you realize you’re not going back outside. I’ll feed the horses and do the rest of the morning chores.”

  “No, you won’t.” Damn. “I can manage with something like a cane. Or maybe I can fashion a crutch from something I find in the stable.”

  She shook her head. “Not necessary. Reginald had several canes. He thought they made him look important.” She rolled her eyes, then continued, “One of them should help you, at least move around in the house.”

  He chewed on a second piece of bacon. No point in arguing when her mood was volatile. Sitting around like an invalid while she did a man’s work wasn’t in his nature. Damn it. He’d taken her husband’s clothes. Taken his place at the head of the table. Not the least of all, taken his place in Talia’s bed. And none of it planned.

  Without warning, the muscles in his injured leg spasmed, causing him to start and grimace with pain.

  “What?” She jumped up. “You are in pain. I shouldn’t have let you stop me—”

  “Just a muscle spasm. Relax. It’s over.” Almost.

  “How did they treat your brother’s broken leg?”

  Jared frowned. “He lay around for a couple of days with his leg elevated on pillows, an ice pack and a compression bandage.”

  “I knew it. As soon as you finish eating, you’re going to bed, and you’re going to allow me to take care of you. You wouldn’t have been injured if not for helping me.”

  “You’ll be sorry. I’m not as good a patient was my brother was.” Another lie. His brother Garth had been a real bastard when he’d been injured. Jared had been his brother’s servant for the duration of his injury, and his brother had taken full advantage. “More ice. Move my leg. Rewrap the bandage. Get my crutch.”

  “I don’t expect you to be a good patient. But I do expect you to follow my orders to the letter.”

  “That remains to be seen. I’m no good at following orders, not even those of someone as beautiful as you.”

  A quick smile flashed across her face, but there remained a cloud of anger hovering in her expression. Couldn’t blame her. Here she was in a freakish snowstorm, saddled with an invalid. He’d be put out too.

  “Pretty words won’t keep me from restraining you in bed.”

  “Restraints?” The image of being tied to her bed made him think of tying her down and making love all night. But for now that particular activity would have to wait.

  “What’s so amusing?”

  “Nothing. Just a random thought.”

  A spark of humor lit her eyes, and a half smile lifted one corner of her mouth, showing her dimple. “You’re in no shape to be having random thoughts at all, especially those.”

  “No need to remind me.”

  “Good. Are you finished?” She glanced at his empty plate. “Do you want more?”

  “There’s a lot I want.”

  “To eat,” she said with steel in her voice.

  “No, ma’am. I’ve had enough.”

  “Then to bed with you. I don’t believe you are so arrogant as to believe you can do without medical care. You could lose your leg.”

  “I’m not going to lose my damned leg.”

  “Señor Fields, your language—”

  “Talia, we are so far beyond quibbling over my language.”

  “We are not in the bedroom, sir.” She drew her body into a rigid stance, her nose in the air. “I won’t stand for bad language, neither in my drawing room nor in my kitchen.”

  “You have any idea how beautiful you are when you get all huffy?”

  “Enough! Off to bed.” She stood with her hands on her hips. “I’ll tear sheets to bandage your leg, and then I’ll pack it with snow. Or maybe I should locate a saw and remedy the situation entirely.”

  “A saw?” He shoved his plate away and stood on his good foot. “Where’s that cane, or will you let me put my arm around you again?”

  “I’ll fetch a cane.” She paused. “But if you feel you need additional support, I’d be a poor hostess to refuse assistance.”

  “Great. Now you’ve gone from being a delightful woman to an uptight society dame. In case you’re interested, I’d prefer Talia to the stuffy Mrs. Montrose. Please, ma’am. May Talia come out and play?”

  She let out an exasperated huff and fled the kitchen.

  Whatever had gotten Talia’s knickers in a twist? Perhaps his brief inspection of her financial ledgers had upset her more than she’d let on. Maybe she was hiding something. But what? More than likely that was the true reason for her underlying irritation than any inconvenience his accident caused.

  Talia returned quickly, brandishing a black cane topped with a gold serpent’s head. “Here. This one should suit you quite well,” she said with a fixed smile and eyes as black as the cane’s ebony wood.

  Thankful she didn’t hit him over the head with it. He accepted the cane with a polite nod. Might as well address the situation now. “Talia, I’m sorry.”

  She shot him a calculating glance. “Whatever do you have to be sorry about?”

  “For invading your privacy this morning. I know you’re still angry. And for my clumsiness. As soon as the weather abates, I promise I’ll get out of your hair.”

  He shifted the cane to his left hand and took a step. Pain shot from his right calf to his knee. He gasped. “Damn.”

  Talia rushed to his side. “Hold on to me.”

  He shook his head and brushed her away. “I can make it, now that I know what to expect.” Carefully, he took another step. The pain was the same, but he clenched his teeth and continued in his halting fashion.

  Somewhere behind him, Talia was muttering, “Stubborn ass.”

  Glad she couldn’t see his face, he smiled. “Mrs. Montrose—your language.”

  “If you weren’t already injured, I’d kick you.”

  “Then I shall be ever grateful for your cow’s excitable nature.”

  Another huff. She sped around him and opened the door to her bedchamber. All was not lost.<
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  As if she’d read his mind, she said, “Don’t think just because you’ll be in my bedroom that anything is going to happen. It’ll just be easier to care for you if we’re in the same—”

  “I understand completely and appreciate your concern.” He almost said, my lady. Likely that would’ve angered her further.

  “After you’re settled, I’ll add some wood to the fire,” she said. She scurried over to the far side of the bed and began straightening the linens in quick, jerky movements. “Would you prefer the bed or maybe the chaise for now?”

  “The chaise.” He hobbled over to the chair and stretched out, unable to keep from groaning.

  Wrinkling her nose, she leaned over his foot and propped it on pillows she took from the bed. “You need to come out of those clothes. I must see to your leg. Besides, they smell of manure.”

  “You’d smell of manure too, if you’d had to crawl—”

  “No doubt,” she said with a slight smile, cutting off his litany of excuses.

  “If you’ll leave me something to change into, I can get these off. You can go on and do whatever you need to do.” He waved her away. Last thing he needed was her hovering over him like he was an infant. “Just go on.”

  “Call me.”

  He waited until she closed the door to remove his shirt. Talia was right. It was overripe with manure and sweat. What he wouldn’t give for a hot bath. He unbuckled his belt, then unbuttoned the denim trousers. Working them down over his butt was no easy feat, but he managed. He extricated his good leg, then, groaning, he worked the trousers down over his bad leg using his left foot.

  He gasped with relief when the denim trousers hit the floor. Mouth dry, he swallowed, then glanced at his right leg. His calf was bruised and swollen, more on the outer aspect than the inner. Carefully, he touched the area and winced. Thankfully, the heavy creature’s hoof had stepped on him with more of a glancing blow than a direct step.

  Even so, it throbbed like a son of a bitch. No doubt about it. In spite of the pain, his biggest regret was that the injury would hamper his investigation.