Vows of the Heart Read online

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Veronica took her walk early the next morning, and feeling fit and increasingly stronger, she decided to dou­ble the prescribed distance. Cole and Curtis would prob­ably spend the day at Helen's, she thought, and Cole's men didn't come to the house for meals on Sundays. It was supposed to be her
  Her walk completed, Veronica was just stepping onto the porch when Curtis burst out the back door, brushing past her in a flurry of motion that had her turning to watch his strong young legs carry him swiftly toward the barns. She had just turned back toward the door when the soft smile evaporated from her lips. Cole was staring at her stonily from beneath the black brim of his Stet­son.

  "Good morning, Cole."

  "Good morning, Miss Uptown," he mocked. Veron­ica couldn't maintain contact with the harshness in Cole's gaze and she glanced away. She had started to step aside for Cole to pass when he reached for her chin and lifted her face to his scrutiny.

  "I've got a pretty good idea that you and Helen haven't exactly hit it off," he growled. "But if you ever tell a wild tale like you did last night about being too up­town, I'm going to turn you across my Neanderthal knee and warm your backside." Veronica was unprepared for the brief hard kiss that followed his warning. Cole's lips released hers and he bounded down the stairs to catch up with his son, leaving Veronica in an emotional whirl­wind of pleasure and relief.

  Later that day, just as she removed the last of the chocolate-chip cookies from the oven, Veronica heard the muffled jangle of spurs and the harsh snort of a spirited horse out back. When she heard Cole come up the porch steps, she hurriedly slipped the last of the cookies onto the cooling rack and switched off the oven. Cole was just coming through the door as she turned to put the mixing bowls and utensils into the dishwasher.

  "Are you finished in here for a while?" he asked, then spied the cookies. Veronica caught the look and smiled.

  "Help yourself."

  "Mmmm." Cole's eyes were lit with appreciation as he savored the taste of a warm cookie. "Wait till Curtis gets wind of these."

  "There might not be any left," Veronica laughed as Cole wrapped a couple of cookies in a napkin and put them into his shirt pocket.

  "Come on outside with me. I have a surprise for you." He crossed to the porch door and held it open for her. Veronica reached for her crutches and readily complied. She was well onto the porch when her heart seemed to come to a stop. Cole strode past her, descended the stairs and picked up the trailing reins of a horse.

  The sight of the big bay stallion struck at her heart with the force of a physical blow. Instantly eight years dropped away and she was once again the stepsister, the intruder who'd coveted everything Cole Chapman loved, particularly the big stallion with hide the color of blood.

  "Are you coming?"

  Cole's voice snapped her back to the present and she felt her balance waver.

  "What?"

  Cole studied her with a frown, tipped his hat back, then repositioned it and tugged the brim lower.

  "I promised to bribe you into doing the mending. Of course, another benefit of getting you on a horse again is that riding will help strengthen your legs. Spending more time in the fresh air should bring some color back into those cheeks and help out that puny appetite of yours."

  Veronica felt the lump in her throat thicken. She sud­denly felt weak and leaned most of her weight on her crutches. A tremor started in her knees and worked its way into every joint until she feared she'd collapse.

  "I don't. . . ride anymore."

  "I talked to your mother about it earlier this morning and she said your therapist back in New York had rec­ommended horseback riding." Veronica was too stunned to take in that Cole had consulted her mother about anything.

  "I haven't ridden a horse in years and I—I'm not in­terested anymore," she managed, nearly strangling with unshed tears. "I've got work to do inside." Ronnie's haste made her feel more awkward than usual as she turned to make a quick retreat.

  "Ronnie?" The pulsing roar of blood in her ears ob­scured the concern in Cole's voice.

  "I'm going in," she choked out, then tugged sharply on the screen door. She didn't return to her baking. In­stead, she moved as quickly as she could to the hall, anxious to get to her room.

  Once there, she closed the door and leaned a shoulder against it. The tears had started, but when she heard her name being called from the kitchen she wiped them away impatiently with the back of her hand. She then crossed the room to the bath and through the window caught sight of the bay horse standing riderless with his reins wrapped around a porch pillar. Is moments, she had jerked the shades closed.

  "Ronnie?" Cole had come into her room.

  "Get out!" Veronica began shaking, unable to com­prehend the reason Cole was inflicting this punishment on her. She edged toward the bathroom door, wanting only to escape Cole's astonished expression.

  Cole was striding boldly closer, reaching for Veronica when she pressed herself against the wall in an effort to avoid his touch. One of her crutches clattered to the floor when she tried to shake off his gentle grip.

  "Come for a ride. Just down to the barn. I'll walk be­side you." Cole's voice had an eerie stillness to it.

  "I don't ride anymore. I told you that." Veronica's other crutch fell to the floor as she gripped Cole's wrist in self-protection. His expression softened.

  "How long has it been, Ronnie? How long have you stayed away from horses?" Cole paused when he saw tears streak down her flushed cheeks. "Your mother seemed to think that you haven't gone near a horse since you lived here." Cole's voice was a husky rasp. "Is that true?"

  Veronica felt her body wilt and she sagged miserably against the wall. She couldn't look at him.

  "The half-wild little tomboy I knew ate, slept and dreamed horses," Cole kidded gently. "She didn't swear off them, did she?"

  Veronica's eyes squeezed closed and she nodded, missing the bleak look that came into Cole's eyes.

  "Why?" he rasped. Veronica shook her head, her del­icate features crumpling. It was a long moment before she could speak.

  "I was so sure I'd fastened that gate. I could have sworn. . ." Veronica's soft voice lapsed into a childlike sob and Cole drew her into his strong arms.

  "Have you been punishing yourself all these years?" Cole demanded in a gruff whisper. "Hmm?" His arms tightened promptingly.

  "I was untrustworthy. . . careless," she mumbled dis­consolately into Cole's warm shirt front.

  He gripped her chin and forced her to look up at him. "You said at the time you could have sworn you'd fas­tened the gate—that you clearly remembered latching it and fastening the security chain," he reminded her.

  "And I believed it, Cole. I believed it with all my heart." The tortured violet eyes fluttered closed in an­guish. "But I must have been wrong. Red died and I was the last one with him." Cole pulled her against himself again and she heard him curse softly.

  "Listen to me, Ronnie." The sternness in his voice in­sured her full attention. "You weren't the only person around the barn that day. Anyone could have forgotten to make sure that gate was properly latched." Cole held her away from his chest to see her face, but her eyes shied away. "I never should have accused you like I did," he grumbled. "And I never wanted to deprive you the plea­sure of horses." Fresh tears slid down her damp cheeks and Cole's voice softened.

  "I'm sorry, Ronnie. You were just a kid and I was too hard on you. You loved that horse even more than I did, didn't you?" Veronica nodded and gave a half sob of agreement. Cole cuddled her against his broad chest and rested his chin on top of her head. "Angry as I was then, I never once thought you'd punish yourself this way."

  When Veronica pressed her hands against Cole's chest and tried to push away, he let her. "Why are you being so nice, Cole?" Veronica's sp
ine stiffened. "Do you feel sorry for me?" She didn't want his apology if he did. Veronica studied Cole's face while he seemed to con­sider her question.

  "No. I don't feel sorry for you, Ronnie," he said at last. "But I've come to regret a lot of things that hap­pened between you and me back then. Looking back on those two years, I realize now that I never really gave you a chance." Cole repositioned his hat in a betrayal of his unease. "I guess in that way I do feel sorry for you," he admitted. "Is it too late for us to be friends?"

  Veronica could scarcely believe what she was hearing.

  "If that's what you want," she answered unsteadily.

  "Is it what you want?" he countered, a half smile lift­ing the corners of his mouth.

  "Yes," she admitted shyly and her gaze wavered. She didn't want Cole to see the joy in her eyes that might have revealed how much she'd always wanted the two of them to be friends, more than friends—

  "Then come on," he urged. Veronica started to com­ply by putting her hand into the strong tanned one he held out for her, but then she hesitated, remembering the crutches that lay on the floor at their feet. Cole's gaze followed hers and he leaned down to pick them up be­fore she could.

  "Uh-oh." Belatedly Cole tried to catch the small crumbs of cookie that slipped out of his shirt pocket. When he straightened, his lips formed a wry line as he slipped his fingers into the pocket and felt the crumbled remains. The solemnity of the past few minutes was lifted. Veronica started to grin, then found herself laughing with Cole.

  "Wait a minute.'' Cole handed her the crutches and moved into the bathroom. She listened to the sound of running water before he came back with a warm wet washcloth, which he used to tenderly brash the dark half circles of mascara from beneath her eyes and smooth away the gray tear trails from her cheeks. He gave the washcloth a quick toss through the bathroom door and watched it land on the side of the sink.

  Satisfied, he asked, "Think you're ready to go out and meet Red's most promising grandson?"

  "Grandson?"

  He nodded. "You'll be amazed at the temperament of Red's Early Riser, Ronnie. You've never seen two ani­mals more alike. Of course, Riser has a few personality quirks Red didn't have, but the resemblance is striking."

  Veronica smiled. Cole trusted her enough to offer her a ride on the grandson of Chapman Red. How could she refuse? And he was speaking to her as if they shared something much more basic than a mutual love of horses. As Cole continued to extol Riser's virtues, she marveled at the warm sense of companionship developing be­tween them.

  "A short ride can't hurt," she said confidently. "Let's go."

  The sun was bright and hot on her face, the light breeze teasing her hair into tangles as Cole lifted her on Early Riser's saddle and handed her the reins. Veronica felt sixteen again, healthy and whole, every part of her ach­ing to dig in her heels and let the big horse ran.

  But the dull twinge of discomfort radiating up through both her thighs warned her to be cautious, reminding her she had neither the strength nor the agility to tolerate more than a few minutes in the saddle.

  The stallion tossed his head and Veronica reached down to give his sleek red neck a loving pat. Riser moved off at a walk, then pranced sideways, as if impatient with the gentle, yet authoritative hands on the reins.

  "Let me know if he's too much for you," Cole called as he walked a few feet to Veronica's left, carrying her crutches, watching for any sign of a problem.

  "He's all right," Veronica called back nonchalantly, enjoying the splendid feel of the powerful horse beneath her, savoring the mobility she hadn't felt in the months of lying in bed, limited by weakness and pain. But more than that, riding again—especially the grandson of Chapman Red—gave her a feeling of happiness and contentment deeper than any she'd known for years.

  Sensing the short ride to the barn would not be enough for her, Cole walked the horse slowly around the huge two-level barn, then suggested that Veronica ride on her own around one of the smaller paddocks. She gladly consented, but Cole allowed her to complete only two laps in the enclosure before calling her over to him.

  "Don't overdo it, Ronnie," he cautioned as she brought the stallion to a halt a few feet from where he stood. He entered the paddock and in seconds had lifted Veronica to the ground, leaving her disappointedly earthbound once again as he handed her the crutches. After removing Riser's saddle and bridle, he ushered Veronica out of the paddock and into the stable. In a few minutes they were walking side by side down the wide aisle of the stable, Cole moving with loose-jointed ease while Veronica made short stilted steps with legs that were only slightly stiffer after her brief ride. But if Veronica was feeling any discomfort from the unaccustomed ex­ercise, her smiling face gave no indication.

  Cole was amazed at the transformation in her. Within the past hour, the pale withdrawn young woman with her aura of loneliness had vanished. In her place was a more youthful, animated young woman whose wide smile, healthy flush and sparkling eyes gave her a beautiful warmth and radiance.

  She was chattering delightedly to him now, and Cole smiled, suddenly struck by the thought that forgiving Veronica after all these years had liberated this charm­ing young woman. He felt a run of guilt for bis harsh­ness eight years before. He couldn't wait to see how she'd react to the second part of his surprise. Touching her arm, he directed her across the aisle to a side door that opened onto another paddock.

  Veronica gasped with pleasure when she looked out­side, "She's beautiful, Cole," she said as a young sorrel mare trotted over and nudged Cole's arm amicably. He reached up and rubbed the animal's cheek as she auto­matically nosed Veronica's shoulder then curiously in­spected her crutches. "She's not spooked a bit by these."

  "Honey Lamb is one of the sweetest-tempered horses I own," Cole explained, then grinned. "We own," he corrected. "She's a little too inquisitive at times, but she's smooth gaited and gentle enough for you to ride until you regain the strength to really handle a spirited horse."

  "Oh, Cole." Her bright smile wavered and tears be­gan to flood into her eyes.

  "Hey," Cole chided gruffly as he slipped a strong arm around her waist. "If you're going to turn on the sprin­klers over every little thing, how am I going to know when I've done something right?" Veronica sniffed back her tears and looked up at him.

  "Honey Lamb?"

  Cole laughed and his arm tightened briefly. "Jackie named her favorite animals the damnedest things." The wistful look came and went so quickly in Cole's eyes that she almost missed it. Cole glanced down into Veronica's face, his smile coaxing a return of her own. They turned to reenter the barn and were almost to the wide main aisle when Veronica spoke.

  "Cole?" The big rancher stopped and cobalt-blue eyes slanted down to meet hers. She was somehow on the verge of both tears and laughter. "Cole, I. . ." A mere thank-you seemed such an inadequate expression for the gratitude she felt. As foolish and impulsive as her next action was, she reached up and placed both hands be­hind his neck, heedless of the crutches that fell to the floor. Cole allowed his head to be drawn downward by the gentle pressure on his neck, and his hands naturally fell to her waist as he accepted the quick touch of her lips to his.

  "Thank you so much, Cole." The kiss had been too light, too gentle. "I can't tell you how much all this means to me." Veronica had unclasped her hands from his neck and they were dropping away when Cole's re­newed grip on her waist brought her against him. Veron­ica's happy smile was startled from her lips as her hands landed gently on his shoulders.

  Cole didn't wait to hear the half-formed question on her lips. His mouth descended swiftly, yet settled like a whisper on hers. What started as a simple need for a more satisfying kiss sent a jolt of heat rocketing through his system, surprising him with the unexpected stirring of a depth of passion he'd known only with his wife. But that was long ago, so long ago, Cole realized, and as he took Ronnie's soft mouth more vigorously, his desire for the woman in his arms became all consuming.

  Veron
ica's had been a child's kiss, a simple sweet expression of gratitude, but the firm pressure of Cole's mouth was mature male. There was an element of wildness in Cole's kiss that she'd never experienced with Eric, a spontaneity that alarmed, yet fascinated.

  Before she quite realized it, Veronica was matching Cole's wildness with her own mouth in a fevered at­tempt to give him a measure of the sensual excitement he was lavishing on her. Somehow she was slipping past ra­tional thought into an unknown area nearing total sur­render.

  Cole's lips were becoming more insistent, but Veron­ica was oblivious to the fact that he had lost control or that he was lowering them both onto a bale of hay. His embrace tightened once she was on his lap, and Veronica felt the involuntary melting of her small frame into the hardness of his.

  The last remnants of reason called to her, warning her love-drugged mind that something of her essence was being drawn away. The overpowering need to merge with Cole warred against the frightening notion that he was stealing into her very being and extracting the untapped wellspring of love in her heart

  "Dad?"

  Veronica floated closer to sanity at the sound of the childish voice. Cole's arms slackened, but he was slow to break off the kiss.

  "Dad." Curtis was clearly annoyed.

  Sensitive to the impatience a child often feels in the presence of adults who are kissing and embracing, Veronica tried to draw away, embarrassed that Cole kept her firmly in his arms.

  "What is it, Curtis?" he asked sternly.

  The small boy looked as if he'd forgotten what he'd been about to say. Cole watched his son's obvious dis­comfort with amused indulgence, but Veronica didn't like the resentment building in those large gray eyes. She liked it even less when his gaze moved over her and noted that she was sitting on his father's lap, held there securely in his father's oaklike arms. There was no mistaking the tiny glimmers of anger that darted into those solemn gray eyes, or the companion tightening of the small mouth.