Bethany Campbell - Wild Horses

He had Pauline’s square jaw and stubborn chin. He had her straight nose, her sculpted mouth. His eyes were blue, like Pauline’s, but otherwise they were like Carolyn’s eyes, too: deep-set, thick-lashed, intense.

But his age and masculinity had disguised the similarities. So Mickey stood transfixed, both believing and not believing. “No,” she objected, as if that word could break the evil spell his words had cast.

“Yes,” he whispered. He was so close she could feel his breath tickle her cheek, stir an errant lock of her hair.

She realized his callused fingertip still rested against her lips. She jerked her head away to break the contact, yet her mouth tingled as if rubbed with something spicy. She wanted to move farther from him, but shock paralyzed her.

He touched her jaw, gently forcing her to face him again. “My father was Steve Randolph, the same as Carolyn’s.”

His expression was hard, but paradoxically his touch was almost tender. He said, “I was born in Florida.”

“Florida?” She didn’t understand. “I thought Steve Randolph went to Canada. I never knew he’d married again.”

“He didn’t.” A muscle twitched in Adam’s cheek. “He moved on before I was born. He must have had a habit of moving on.”

Mickey blinked in surprise, yet she felt an unexpected surge of sympathy.

Adam’s upper lip curled slightly. “So if you want to call me a bastard, go ahead. The name fits.”

She tensed. The news that he was Carolyn’s half brother had so stunned her, she’d forgotten the other bombshell he’d dropped. The lease land was his, or so he claimed.

Her sympathy died; suspicion loomed up in its place. She pushed his hand aside and tried to jerk away. But her shoulder blades struck the barrier of the screened windows. He had her cornered.

She jerked her chin up. “How’d you hook up with Enoch? How’d you talk him out of the lease land? Suck up to him?”

His mouth twisted sardonically. “I tried to track down my father. I found out he died in Ontario. That he’d had two brothers. One was dead—”

“—Thom,” Mickey said. She knew the story. Thom, the middle of the three Randolph brothers, had died in Thailand.

Adam cocked his head and leaned nearer. “But my father’s obituary notice said he was survived by a brother in the Caribbean—Enoch. Enoch and I had lived near each other for God knows how long. I looked him up. Last year. Until then, he hadn’t known I existed.”

She used her suspicion militantly, like a protective shield. “United, at last. How touching. And what a nice bonus for you—to learn you had a rich uncle. Or did you know he had property before you found him?”

She wished her heart beat less violently. She wished her flesh didn’t burn where he’d touched her.

His laugh was sarcastic. “I didn’t know about any money or land. He told me that he had land, but I didn’t know how much. I didn’t ask, and he didn’t tell. Until he was dying.”

For some insane reason, she wanted to believe him. A dangerous impulse, she fought it as hard she could. “You went looking for him just because he was your uncle? Not because he was your wealthy uncle?”

“What’s the problem?” He leaned one hand on the window frame next to her and bent nearer still. “The idea of wanting to meet your kin? Is that something ritzy Texans don’t understand?”

Stung, she glared. And his arm, so near, made her feel more trapped than before. “What are you talking about? Say what you mean.”

“I wanted to meet my father’s people. I just wanted to know. That’s all.”

“Know what?” she demanded.

His frown was earnest. “Know about him. His people. My father was a part of me that was missing. I just wanted to understand. You know?”

“No, I don’t,” Mickey flung back. “You’re talking about a man who—who ran out on your mother. Who deserted you before you were born. Whose family never lifted a finger to help you. Why would you want to have anything to do with him or them? It makes no sense to me.”

His eyes narrowed. “You’re calling me a liar?”

She wanted him to be a liar. She wanted it for Carolyn’s sake and her own. If he was an imposter, nothing more than a con artist, they could be rid of him; he would get out of their lives and stay out. He couldn’t hurt Carolyn, and he wouldn’t confuse her so wildly.

She challenged him again. “Why go chasing after Enoch, of all people? I didn’t know him, but—”

“—That’s right. You didn’t. Not at all.”

“—but he’s always sounded like a—a crank. A lazy, antisocial crank. My God, if you wanted to meet somebody in your family, why didn’t you get in touch with Carolyn?”

“I didn’t know she existed. Until Enoch told me.”

“You must not have had a very good detective,” she retorted.

“Steve Randolph covered his tracks well. Nobody in Ontario knew he had children in the States. Carolyn and Pauline didn’t know about me. And I didn’t know about them.”

Mickey was dizzied by hurt and anger. “When you found out about Carolyn, why didn’t you call her then? Why wait until now? It’s only about the land, isn’t it? Not about finding your people or a part of you that’s missing.”

He tensed with resentment. She didn’t care. She knew how Enoch had treated Carolyn, taking her money and rebuffing her courtesy with an indifference that bordered on contempt. For years he’d lived on her fairness and generosity, acting like a shiftless old pirate.

Mickey had to strike out in defense of her friend and benefactor; she couldn’t live with herself if she didn’t. “I don’t know why you’d be satisfied with finding only Enoch for family. Carolyn’s respectable, at least.”

“Respectable?” Adam mocked. “That’s what’s important? To you? To her? Is that how she felt about Enoch? He wasn’t as good as she is? Because he didn’t spend his life getting—stuff?”

He made a wide, disdainful sweep with his free hand to indicate the Circle T and everything on it. He radiated such disdain that Mickey’s temper flared higher.

“Carolyn’s worked hard for everything she’s got. Which is more than anybody can say for Enoch. If you knew about her, why didn’t you write her? Instead of cozying up to some eccentric old grouch who was probably losing his mind—”

He jerked his head in frustration, so that his hair fell over his forehead. “Why are you so judgmental? Before I met Enoch, I damn well didn’t know Carolyn existed. It was Enoch who told me the whole story about my dad’s first marriage. And that only Carolyn was left.”

Mickey put her fist on her hip. “So why didn’t you get in touch with her then? What happened to your burning urge to find your kinfolk? You waited until Enoch signed her inheritance over to you. And now you show up.”

Adam raked his hand through his hair. “He warned me about you people. He said she looked down on our kind.”

He dared to call Carolyn a snob? Carolyn, of all people? “Don’t you criticize Carolyn,” she warned. “You don’t even know her.”

“Then don’t criticize me. Or Enoch. You don’t know us, either.”

Mickey shook her finger in his face. “For years and years he promised that land would be hers.”

“Don’t do that,” Adam warned her, his voice flat.

But her dander was up, and she kept shaking her finger. If it annoyed him, she would shake it until doomsday. “But you come along like a thief in the night—”

“I said don’t do that.”

“I’ll do as I please, and you can’t stop me.”

“Yes, I can,” he said from between his teeth. He seized her wrist, and stepped even closer.

Her pulses drummed crazily. His body was too near hers, his face too close, his hand too strong, his anger growing as charged and heated as her own.