Diana Palmer - Wyoming Rugged

“Good night,” Niki said.

They echoed the words.

“Damned bounder,” Blair muttered when he and Todd shared snifters of cognac. “I brought him to his knees and made him apologize. She was pretty shaken.”

“I haven’t been much of a father,” the older man confessed. “She’s been on her own a lot. Too much, probably.”

“How old is she?” Blair asked.

“Nineteen. Almost twenty.”

“I remember being nineteen.” The other man chuckled. He put aside the brief hunger he’d felt while Niki was in his arms. She was years too young. And besides, he was getting married. “Back in the Dark Ages. She’s a nice girl. You’ve done a good job raising her.”

“Thanks. And thanks for saving her from the football hero.”

He shrugged. “What are friends for?” he asked, with twinkling black eyes.

* * *

IT WAS A year later when Blair came back to the ranch to spend a few days. He and Todd had seen each other socially on occasion, but he hadn’t come to the ranch since the night Niki had her bad encounter.

He and Elise were having problems. Big problems. He was broody and wouldn’t talk to Todd. But he talked to Niki. It was the Christmas holidays, and the tree was glorious. Despite a few sick days, Niki had managed to do all the decorating herself. The tree was nine feet tall, decked out in red beaded strands and red velvet bows, with every sort of ornament imaginable, especially mechanical ones. There were trains that ran, dancers who danced and starships that made blast-off noises. It was glorious.

“I’ve never had a Christmas tree,” Blair had to confess. “But I’m tempted, after seeing this one.”

Niki laughed softly. “You should have Elise decorate one for you.”

His face closed up. “She’s not much for the holidays.”

She cocked her head and looked up at him with warm, curious eyes. “Aren’t you?”

He shrugged. “I like Christmas. It was my mother’s favorite holiday. She was forever buying decorations. I still have them, in storage.”

“You sound sad,” she said.

“She died over a year ago. It’s been lonely.”

“No brothers or sisters?”

He shook his head. “My...father died ten years ago.” Again, that odd hesitation. “It was just my mother and me.”

“Now it’s Elise and you,” she said, lowering her eyes. “So you still have family.”

“Yes.”

His tone wasn’t pleasant. She wondered why. He’d been so happy the last time they’d seen each other, talking about his upcoming marriage, bragging about his fiancée. And now he was somber, quiet.

“They say marriages sometimes start rocky and end happy,” she blurted out.

He glanced down at her, his black eyes twinkling. “Do they, now?”

“Okay, I’m no authority on couples. You might remember my first and last attempt at that,” she added with a little laugh.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t been out with anyone since,” he said, surprised.

She grimaced. “Well, I was sort of afraid to try again,” she confessed. “I wasn’t sure you’d be around to rescue me when my date brought me home,” she added with a smile. She couldn’t confess that no man in the world could compare to Blair, in her mind or her heart.

He stuck his hands in his pockets. “How did the football hero fare?” he asked.

“He went back East rather suddenly after my father’s attorney had a talk with his father,” she said. “Strange, isn’t it?”

“Very.”

“If he tries it again, I hope the girl’s father belongs to the mob and they find him floating down some river in an oil drum,” she said firmly.

He laughed under his breath. “Vicious girl.”

“You’re right. That wasn’t nice at all. Can you put this on for me? I can’t quite reach.” She indicated a spot high on the tree where she wanted one last red velvet bow.

“You can reach.” He caught her small waist and lifted her easily within reach of the branch. She was so slight, it was like lifting a feather. The feel of her, the scent of her, was disturbing.

She laughed. “You’re awfully strong,” she remarked when he set her down again.

He moved away from her rather quickly. “It comes from wrestling with my board of directors,” he replied drily.

She moved back and looked at the tree. “Will it do, you think?”

“It’s lovely.” He frowned. “Do you and your father have any other family?”

“Not really. He has an aunt, but she lives overseas. He didn’t have brothers and sisters. My mother did, but her only brother died when I was in grammar school.” She looked up at him. “Didn’t Elise want to come with you?” she asked. “I’d love to meet her. I’m sure Daddy would, too.” She was lying through her teeth. She never wanted to meet Elise, if she could help it.

“She’s in Europe with some friends,” he said.

“Oh.” She didn’t really know what else to say. She went back to her decorating.

His voice sounded raspy.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

He drew in a breath and grimaced. “My chest feels a bit tight. I think it’s allergies. I get them this time of year.”

“Me, too,” Niki confessed. “But mine usually lead to pneumonia. I had it in my early teens. I guess it repeats. It’s so unfair. I don’t even smoke.”

“Neither do I,” Blair replied. “People around me do, however. I came here by way of Saudi Arabia. I was coughing before I got on the plane. It’s probably just the allergy.”

She nodded. But he sounded the way she did when she was coming down with a chest infection. Men never seemed to want to admit to illness. Perhaps they thought of it as a weakness.

* * *

BLAIR DIDN’T GET up for breakfast the next morning. Niki was worried, so she asked her father to look in on their guest. She wasn’t at all sure if he wore pajamas, and she didn’t want to walk in on him if he didn’t.

Her father was back in a minute, looking concerned. “I think I’d better ask Doctor Fred to come out and check him. He’s got a fever, and he’s breathing rough. I think it’s bronchitis. Maybe something more.”

Niki didn’t have to ask how he knew. He’d seen her through pneumonia too many times to mistake the symptoms.

“That might be a good idea,” she agreed.

* * *

DR. FRED MORRIS came out and examined Blair, prescribing a heavy cough syrup along with an antibiotic.

“If he isn’t better in three days, you call me,” Fred told Niki’s father.

“I will.”

“And you stay out of his room until the antibiotic takes hold,” Fred told Niki firmly. “You don’t need to catch this again.”

“It might not be contagious,” she protested.

“But it might be. Humor me.”

She managed a faint smile. “Okay, Dr. Fred.”

“Good girl. I’ll be in my office until late, if you need me,” he told her father as they shook hands.

“Okay. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

* * *

NIKI INSISTED THAT her father call Elise and tell her that Blair was sick and needed her. Todd was reluctant, but he badgered Blair until he got the number. He called her.

Niki never knew what was said, but her father came out of his office cold-eyed and angry.

“Is she coming?” she asked.

Her father made a rough sound in his throat. “She said that’s what doctors are for, getting people well. She doesn’t do illness, and she doesn’t want to be exposed to what he’s got anyway. There’s a ball tomorrow night in Vienna. A friend is taking her.”

Niki felt sick to her stomach. What sort of woman had Blair married, for heaven’s sake?

“It’s not our business,” her father reminded her.

“He was so kind to me, when Harvey attacked me,” she recalled. “I thought he’d found a nice woman who’d want to have children and take care of him.”