Rage of Passion

“Certainly, dear,” Janet agreed. “I'm sorry if I've…we've come at a bad time…”

“Don't you always, Mother?” he asked with a cold smile. “Isn't Europe more your style than dust and cattle?”

“I came to see you,” the older woman said with quiet pride.

“I'll be back directly.” He turned without another glance and walked to the truck, grimacing despite his iron control as he climbed inside the cab and managed to close the door, waving away the cowboy who offered to help him. They drove off in a cloud of dust.

Janet sighed half-angrily. “I'll never understand him,” she said under her breath. “I didn't raise him without manners. I'm sorry, Maggie.”

“There's no need to apologize,” Maggie said quietly. “I gather that he's in some pain.”

“And irritable at having to stay at home when there's work to be done. Roundup is a bad time for everyone. Besides that,” she said miserably, “he doesn't like it when I come here. I have to confess that I needed you as much as you needed the rest. I don't like having to cope by myself. But truly, you'll enjoy it. He won't be around much,” she added with a hopeful look. “Just until his arm will let him go back to work. Knowing my son,” she added bitterly, “it shouldn't take more than a couple of days. Nothing keeps him down for long. He'll convince the doctor that strapping it will accomplish miracles.”

“He isn't the most welcoming man,” Maggie murmured.

“He'll be gone before you know it. Now come on and let's get settled in,” Janet said firmly. “This is my home, too—even if I'm not allowed to visit it very often!”

Maggie didn't reply. She wasn't sure that she'd done the right thing in coming. Gabriel was stone-cold hateful, and time hadn't improved his old dislike of her. She knew instinctively that if his mother hadn't been around, he'd have packed her right back to San Antonio. It wasn't the brightest beginning.

She spent the next two hours reacquainting herself with the big house and getting to know the new cook and housekeeper, whose name was Jennie. She was small and dark and gay, and Maggie liked her immediately.

She settled in, changing her white outfit for jeans and a yellow blouse. She brushed her short hair toward her face and hoped that her appearance wouldn't antagonize the cattleman any further when she went down to have supper with the family.

Gabriel was already at the table, looking furious and glaring at her the minute she walked into the spacious, elegant dining room. In fact, his look was so accusatory that she froze in the doorway, flashing on a line from a dog-training manual about not showing fear and making no sudden moves. Perhaps it would work with the half-civilized cattleman whose mother was obviously kicking him under the table.

“Do join us, dear,” Janet said with a glare toward her taciturn son.

“I'm sorry if I've held you up,” Maggie said gently, seating herself on the other side of Janet for protection with a wary, green-eyed glance at Gabe that seemed to amuse him.

“Dinner is promptly at six,” he returned with a lifted eyebrow. “I don't like being held up, in case you've forgotten.” She started to speak, but he cut her off with a lifted hand, ignoring his mother's seething irritation to add mockingly, “I don't bite, Miss Turner,” his voice deep and faintly amused.

“Could I have that in writing, please?” she asked with a nervous laugh. She smiled at Janet. “The air smells so fresh and clean out here. No exhaust fumes!”

“That's right, city girl,” Gabe replied. He leaned back carefully, favoring his right side, with his coffee cup in his lean hand. He wasn't even neatly dressed or particularly cleaned up. He was still wearing his work clothes, except that his dusty shirt was open halfway down his tanned chest, where a wedge of thick black hair arrowed toward his wide leather belt. That disturbed Maggie, just as it had in her teens, and she looked down at her plate, fiddling with putting the napkin in her lap.

“I would have cleaned up,” he said unexpectedly, a bite in his slow drawl as he obviously mistook her expression for distaste, “but I'd just come in from the holding pens when I went to the doctor, and I'm a bit tired.”

Her eyes came up quickly, with an apology in them. “Mr. Coleman, this is your home,” she said gently. “I wouldn't be so rude as to criticize how you dress.”

He stared at her calculatingly for a long moment—so long that she dropped her gaze again to her plate. Finally, he reached for the platter of beef and helped himself, to his mother's obvious relief.

“How did you get bitten, darling?” Janet asked him.

“I reached for a rope without looking.”

Janet gnawed her lip. “It must be painful. You won't be able to work for a few days, I guess.”

He gave her a cold stare. “I'm managing. If I felt a little stronger, I could ride. It's just the swelling and the pain, that's all. I won't be stuck here for long, I hope.”

Janet started to make a comment, but she forced herself to remain silent. It did no good to argue with him.

He glanced from her to Maggie as he buttered a huge fluffy biscuit. “What are you doing these days?” he asked curiously.

“Me? I'm working at a bookstore,” Maggie told him. She glanced up and down again, hating the surge of heat to her face. He had the most incredible effect on her, even after the anguish of her marriage.

“Working, did you say?” His light eyes lifted and probed hers like a microscope. “Your people were wealthy.”

“Times change,” she said quietly. “I'm not wealthy now. I'm just a working girl.”

“Have some peas, dear.” Janet tried to interrupt.

He put the biscuit down and cocked his head, studying her with narrowed eyes. “It shows,” he said absently. “You don't look like the spunky little kid who used to play with my sisters. What's happened to you?”

Maggie felt herself going cold. He was watching her, like a cat watching a mouse. She felt vulnerable and a little afraid of that single-mindedness. Once, she would have taken exception to his blunt challenge. But there had been so many fights, so much struggle. Her spirit was carefully buried—had to be, for Becky's sake.

She laid down her fork and stared at him. “I've grown up,” she replied, her voice soft.

His level gaze sized her up. “You had money. And now you don't. Then what brings you here, Miss Turner? Are you looking for a vacation or a man to support you?”

“Gabriel!” Janet slammed her napkin down. “How dare you!”

Maggie clasped her hands tightly under the table and stared at him with a courage she didn't really feel. “Your mother offered me a visit, Mr. Coleman,” she said dully. “I needed to get away for a little while, that's all. You'll have to excuse me for being so dim, but I didn't realize that I needed your permission as well as Janet's. If you want me to leave…?” She started to rise.

“Oh, for God's sake, sit down,” he snapped. His eyes cut into hers. “The last thing I need is a Texas society girl out here at roundup, but if Mother wants you, you're welcome. Just keep to the house,” he warned softly, his eyes emphasizing the threat. “And out of my way.”

He tossed his own napkin down, ignoring his mother's furious glare.

“I won't get in your way,” Maggie said, her voice, her whole manner vulnerable.

Gabriel's pale eyes narrowed as he bent his dark head to light a cigarette, watching her the whole time. “Won't you? What a difference,” he added as he took a draw from the cigarette. “The girl I remember was like a young filly, all long legs and excitement and blushing fascination. How you've changed, Maggie Turner.”

The comment surprised her. She looked up, feeling hot all over as his eyes searched hers. “You haven't,” she blurted out. “You're just as blunt and rude and overbearing as you ever were.”

He actually grinned. “Just as mean-tempered, too, honey. So look out,” he added as he got to his feet. He groaned a little with the movement and murmured a curse under his breath.

“Can I get you anything?” Janet asked, frowning.

He spared her a cool glance. “Nothing, thank you,” he replied formally. He nodded at the women, the brief and unexpected humor gone as he turned and went out the door.

“I'm sorry,” Janet told Maggie. “It's roundup, you know. He gets so ill-tempered, and he doesn't really like women very much.”

“He doesn't like me very much, you mean,” Maggie said quietly, staring at the tablecloth. “He never did.” She smiled wistfully. “Do you know, I once had the most terrible crush on him. He never found out, thank goodness, and I outgrew it. But I used to think he was the whole world.”

“And now?” Janet queried gently.

Maggie bit her lower lip and laughed, the sound soft and nervous. “Now, I think I'm a little afraid of him. I'm not sure that coming here was a good idea.”

“Oh, yes, it was,” Janet said. “I'm certain that it will work out. You'll see. I've got it all planned.”