Heart of Winter by Diana Palmer

Author:Diana Palmer
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HQN
Published: 2006-07-01T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

It was Saturday, and the hunters were packing to go home. A chinook had blown in Friday to take away the snow, unlocking the grip the storm had on the ranch, leaving the roads passable if slushy.

“Well, it’s just been great,” Carol sighed as she left. “I can’t think when I’ve enjoyed anything as much. Especially your movies,” she added, smiling demurely at Winthrop in the hall.

“You’ll have to get Dominic to bring you again,” he returned with a smile.

“I might be persuaded,” Dominic said. He put an arm around Carol. “This one might be worth keeping.”

“Well, she’s certainly pretty enough,” Nicky volunteered. “And I like her, if that carries any weight.”

Carol’s eyes brightened. Impulsively, she hugged Nicky. “We won’t tell anyone that I’m only five years older than you are. We’ll just let people gape when you call me Mom, okay?” she laughed.

“Okay,” Nicky said gently. She winked at the redhead.

“By the way,” Dominic hesitated, luggage in hand, “I, uh, put my foot in it again, Nicky.”

She knew what he was going to say, about trying to buy Winthrop. He was a rascal, but he was still her father. She liked him sometimes, warts and all.

She hugged him briefly. “I’ve fouled things up all by myself, thanks. You just added your two cents’ worth. I like you anyway.”

Dominic looked uncomfortably emotional for a minute before he pulled himself together. “Come see an old man once in a while,” he managed finally.

“I don’t know any old men, but I guess I could come see you. If I get to help Eddie with the horses,” she added. “It’s been a while since I’ve ridden.”

“We can remedy that. Don’t wait too long. See you, Nicky.”

“See you, Dad.”

They went out, followed by the Harris brothers who were mumbling their own thanks and goodbyes. Nicky found herself alone with Winthrop, who towered over her in jeans and that huge sheepskin jacket he liked to wear with his creamy Stetson.

“You seem to have arrived at a truce with your father,” he mused.

“I misunderstood a lot of things. Grief plays havoc with the brain,” she said quietly. “I loved my mother very much.”

“So did he, unless I miss my guess.” He touched her short hair, the simple gesture sending thrills down her spine. “Was she like you, to look at?”

“Oh, no. She was beautiful,” she recalled gently. “Long black hair and pale blue eyes—Irish. She even had the lilting speech. She was a lady, in every sense of the word. I adored her.”

“And what does that make you—the ugly duckling?” he chided. He tilted her chin up, searching her suddenly flushed face. “Nice eyes. Big and soft. Pretty little mouth. High cheekbones. Soft skin. You’ll do, sugarplum, even without long hair. But let it grow anyway. I like long hair.”

He turned her loose then and started out the door, still limping a little.

“Your knee…is it better?” she asked hesitantly.

He half turned toward her, his dark eyes alive and quiet. “It’s no worse, at least. Why? Were you thinking of offering me a massage?”

“I don’t go around playing with men’s legs.

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