Diana Palmer - Denim And Lace

“I’ll never take it off,” she promised. Her eyes went over it lovingly, and the expression on her face touched Cade. She was used to diamonds and pearls, but that little bit of silver seemed to touch her every bit as much as a mink coat would have touched her mother.

“You never were mercenary,” he said quietly. “Or a snob. Once you’ve gotten over your father’s death and learned how to manage your mother, you’re going to be a heartbreaker.”

She stared up at him quietly. “Be careful I don’t break yours,” she said with bravado.

Surprisingly he took her hand and put it over his heart. “I’m not sure I have one,” he said simply. “It’s been knocked around a good bit in recent years. But if you can find it, do your worst.”

She reached up her free hand slowly and touched his hard mouth and then, when he stood very still and didn’t protest, the rest of his lean, dark face.

“You won’t forget me, will you?” she asked.

Her soft hands on his face had been heaven. He’d been busy imagining them on his bare chest, his shoulders, and his mind had to be dragged back from the exquisite images it had been contemplating. He caught her hand and pressed its soft palm to his mouth roughly. “No.”

“I won’t forget you either.”

He sighed heavily, because this was harder than he’d expected. “Come on. Time to get going. I’ve got two more horses to break. I only rode over to say goodbye.”

She lingered at her horse, hoping that he might kiss her, but he didn’t. He put her up into the saddle and rested one hand on her jean-clad thigh, his eyes dark and unsmiling as he looked up at her. When he didn’t smile, that Comanche blood showed in his face, in the high cheekbones and stern expression.

“Remember what I told you about men,” he said shortly. “You can’t live like a hermit, but don’t let Gussie railroad you into anything. Just be careful about the people you trust.”

“You don’t trust anybody, do you, Cade?” she asked gently.

“I trust my family and you. That’s it.” He turned to get back onto his own mount, looking as much a part of the buckskin as the saddle on its back. He was an excellent horseman. His mastery of horses and his skill with a rope had made him a natural in the rodeo arena, but Bess still worried about him.

She stared at him hungrily, hoping for a last-minute reprieve. That he’d propose marriage. That he’d ask her to wait for him. That he’d say, “Don’t go.”

He did none of those things. He stared at her for one long moment and then he turned his horse without a word, not even a goodbye, and went back the way he’d come. She watched him until he was a pinpoint in the distance, tears streaming down her cheeks. At least, she thought, she had one sweet memory to put under her pillow at night. She touched the silver ring on her finger and kissed it softly. She didn’t really understand why Cade would give her a family heirloom when he hadn’t said anything about a commitment, but it was the most wonderful present she’d ever received. She’d never part with it. It would remind her of Cade and help her cope with the hardships ahead.

And she knew Gussie was going to be the worst hardship of all.

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