Out of Exile

“I told him I needed to discuss the offer with all of you.”

“I’ve heard of Maxwell Redevelopment, they’re into building time-share properties,” Luke said.

“The offer was a generous one,” Matthew said, and named the figure the company had thrown out to him.

“When we first learned the terms of Father’s will, I was one of the ones who yelled the loudest about having to spend time here, working once again for the family ranch,” Johnna said. “But, now, after spending the past seven months working here again, I’m not sure I’m willing to just sell out.”

“I agree,” Luke replied.

Matthew felt an invisible constricting band tightening up around his chest. He hadn’t realized until this moment that he’d half hoped they would all vote to sell the place. “But, if we sell, we can take the money and build new lives.” And they wouldn’t have to pretend anymore that they were a real, functioning family.

“Could I say something?” Clara asked with a tentative smile. “I know I have no right to be part of a vote or anything,” she began. “But I would hate to see you all sell this land. My parents settled here before you all and their parents before them. This isn’t just a ranch, it’s your roots, your heritage, and your father spent his blood and tears building it into something grand.”

She knew nothing about his father, Matthew thought irritably. It wasn’t Adam Delaney’s blood and tears that had built this place. It had been the blood and tears of his children, whom he’d used like slave labor.

“Personally, I don’t intend to sell,” Mark said when Clara had finished. He looked at Matthew. “When the time comes, if you want out of all this, one way or another I’ll buy you out.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Matthew replied, fighting the ever-present anger that thoughts of his father created. “That’s all I had to discuss this evening.” He walked over to the bar and poured himself a jigger of brandy, signaling the end of his participation. Within moments the others began to visit with each other.

“Got another one of those?” Lilly asked, coming to stand next to him.

“Certainly.” He poured her a shot of brandy and handed it to her, trying not to notice the sweetly feminine floral scent of her that reached out to surround him.

“Could I speak to you alone after everyone has left?” she asked, her gaze lingering on his face. “I have something I need to discuss with you.”

“All right,” he agreed, although he had no idea what she needed to talk about with him.

She nodded, sipped her brandy, then walked back to where Clara was seated and crouched down next to the old woman to talk.

Matthew watched her for a long moment, watching the animation of her features as she spoke to Clara. He’d intentionally made himself scarce that afternoon, feeling as if he needed some distance from her.

He’d worked in one of the pastures, fixing fencing and expending enormous energy in an effort to still all the emotions that rolled around inside him.

For some reason, since Lilly’s arrival, Matthew had been more on edge, more at odds than he could remember. Something about her appearance here had sparked a cataclysm of emotion that he had yet to be able to sort out.

He turned his attention to his family. Things were changing. Things had changed. The death of their father and the terms of the will he’d left behind had somehow transformed his siblings into different people than they had been.

Mark, who had always been the silent one, as if trying to be invisible, sat straight in his seat with a new sense of pride and self-identity.

Luke, who’d been precariously close to becoming an alcoholic, was facing life sober and with a new sense of responsibility, thanks to his wife and children.

And then there was Johnna, who Matthew had suspected had always been the strongest of them all. She’d managed to leave the ranch to go to college, then had returned to Inferno to build a law practice. It was only the terms of their father’s will that had brought her back to spending time on the ranch.

They had all survived their childhood hell and had become thriving, loving people. It amazed him sometimes, the indomitable will of the human spirit.

What angered him more than anything was the fact that their spirits had managed to survive just fine and he was afraid his had not.

He stood just outside the living room window, staring in at the scene inside. The night air that surrounded him was warm, but couldn’t compete with the heat inside him as he drank his fill of the sight of Lilly.

Beautiful. Stunning. She looked as good as she had when she’d been sixteen. Even better. And he knew that if the window was open, he’d be able to smell her—a scent that he’d retained in his memory for years.

His blood heated and surged through him, filling him with strength and purpose. She would be his. He knew it in his heart. He recognized it in his very soul.

This afternoon she had stood so close to him he could have reached out his hand and touched her. He knew just how her skin would feel. He’d dreamed about touching her a thousand times.

And, in the brief words they’d exchanged that afternoon, he’d seen the spark of something secret and knowing in her eyes.

She knew they belonged together. They didn’t have to exchange a word. It was a knowledge both of them retained in their souls.

His gaze narrowed as he watched Matthew Delaney pour Lilly a drink. Something in the way he looked at Lilly as he handed her the glass stirred a feeling of threat. For just a moment he thought he saw desire in Matthew’s eyes.

“You can’t have her,” he whispered, his gaze intent on the tall, handsome cowboy. “She’s mine.”

As he saw the gathering starting to break up, he scurried away from the window and into the night shadows. Fate had given him a second chance to claim Lilly as his own, and he wasn’t about to allow Matthew Delaney to stand in his way.

He got into his pickup and headed for his own place, knowing it would be too dangerous to hang around the ranch anymore that evening.

As he drove, he thought again of that look he’d seen in Matthew’s eyes as he’d gazed at Lilly. Matthew Delaney would never get an opportunity to follow through on any desire he might feel for Lilly. He would see to that. He would make sure Matthew was too busy with other things to have time for anything remotely resembling romance.

Chapter 4

Lilly had watched the interplay between the Delaney siblings with interest. Never having experienced the joy of sisters or brothers, she’d always had a romanticized version of what sibling relationships should be…and the Delaneys certainly did not fit her perception.

There had been an edge in the tone of voice they’d used with each other, but none as sharp as the edge in Matthew’s when he spoke to his brothers and sister.

But that wasn’t what she wanted to discuss with him. She knew that the sibling relationship between the Delaneys was none of her business. She simply thought it was sad that four people who should be bonded together through love, common experiences and blood ties didn’t seem to be a cohesive family unit at all.

She stood on the front porch, saying goodbye to everyone as they left. She watched as each couple got into their cars and felt a strange sort of longing.

They would all go home and perhaps make love, or spend the night-time hours lying in one another’s arms, rehashing the day’s events, offering each other support and love.

The twilight time of day was the time Lilly occasionally regretted her choice to live her life alone. Something about facing the end of the day alone was difficult.

As she leaned against one of the porch railings, the longing deepened. Did they realize how very lucky they were? Did they realize how brave it was to open yourself so entirely to another person and trust that they would never hurt you, never abandon you?

She sighed and looked up at the stars that were starting to appear in the sky. Her loneliness tonight felt deeper than usual.

“You wanted to talk to me?”

Lilly jumped in surprise at the sound of Matthew’s deep voice behind her. She turned to see him step out onto the porch to join her. “Yes, I did.”

He stood just outside the door, looking as handsome as she’d ever seen him in a pair of black dress slacks and a short-sleeved, crisp white cotton shirt that exposed powerful forearms. His thick, dark hair was neatly combed and he looked more like a business executive than a rancher.

“Why don’t you come into the kitchen,” he suggested. “I just made a short pot of coffee. We can talk in there over a cup.”

“All right,” she agreed. She followed him back into the house and into the kitchen. The light above the sink was the only illumination. He didn’t turn on the big overhead light, but rather went directly to the coffeemaker.

He poured a cup of the fresh brew, then turned to face her. “I’m afraid I don’t know how you take your coffee,” he said.