Sunrise Vows Page 10

  Walking into the huge closet, she instantly spied the T-shirts and sweatpants Derek had told her she could borrow. The shirts hung neatly on hangers, and several pairs of the cotton pants were folded on shelves.

  Shrugging out of the nightgown, she pulled one of the T-shirts over her head, trying not to notice how the material smelled like Derek. The sweatpants were big, but comfortable. The nightgown she tossed in the wastebasket, knowing it was ruined.

  In the bathroom she found a hairbrush and quickly braided her hair. The simple, mundane task soothed the last of her taut nerves.

  Curious to see the rest of the rooms since the furniture had arrived, Belinda left the master suite and wandered down the hallway.

  She entered the room Derek had told her would be Tasha’s room. Her breath caught in her chest as she entered. It was a room from a fairy tale, done in pastel pinks and pale greens and oodles of ruffles. A childsize table and chairs sat in front of the window where the sun could stream in and light a tea party.

  The house was ready, the rooms were prepared. The only thing lacking was a wife for Derek and children to bring life to the rooms. Again she thought of the proposition he’d made her.

  Could she marry Derek, remain his wife until the adoption of the children was final and the ranch was stable, then walk away without her heart being touched? That’s what frightened her more than anything-the prospect of having her heart broken once again.

  She left Tasha’s room and entered Toby’s. Cowboys on bucking broncos rode the wallpaper banner around the edge of the ceiling. Wooden bunk beds covered with matching brown spreads added to the boyish appeal. A large, sturdy rocking horse sat in the corner, awaiting the touch of a miniature cowboy to bring him to life.

  An unexpected pain ripped through Belinda as she touched the rocking horse’s mane. She’d once dreamed of a horse much like this one. A rocking horse for her son. Her baby.

  She sank onto the bottom bunk, arms wrapped tight around her stomach to still the hollow ache that resounded deep within. He would have been two now…toddling around, speaking a combination of baby gibberish and real words. She closed her eyes, tears oozing as she imagined chubby little arms around her neck, a slobbery kiss on her cheek.

  If only she hadn’t left for Kansas City when Derek had dumped her. If only she’d remained here, among her family, then maybe…just maybe, things would have been different.

  Wiping away her tears, she stood and yelped as the top of her head connected with the bottom of the upper bunk. She rubbed her head, almost grateful for the physical pain that momentarily displaced her emotional pain.

  She walked to the doorway, then hesitated, her gaze once again sweeping the room. She knew now. She knew it was possible for her to marry Derek and keep her heart safe from him. If she felt any wavering at all, any softening of her heart toward him, all she had to do was enter this bedroom and remember the little boy she’d lost.

  She didn’t know how long she stood there, engrossed in thought, when the sound of the front door opening pulled her back to the present.

  “Belinda?” Derek’s voice drifted up the stairs.

  “Up here. I’ll be right down,” she answered. She turned off the light in the bedroom, then hurried down the stairs to where Derek and Junior awaited her. “Did you find out anything?” she asked.

  Derek shook his head. “Nothing too helpful. We boarded up the broken window so the house is secure for now. Why don’t we sit down with a cup of coffee? Junior has some questions to ask you.”

  Together the three of them sat at the kitchen table. While Derek poured the coffee, Junior pulled a notepad and pen from his pocket. “I want you to tell me everything that happened from the moment you woke up to the moment you ran here,” he said.

  As Belinda replayed those moments for the sheriff, her fear also replayed inside her. The whole thing had taken on the ambience of a nightmare. But even nightmares had the capability of producing intense fear. Her heart raced and her hands shook as she told Junior exactly what had happened.

  Derek seemed to sense her internal fright. He sat next to her and took her trembling hands in his. Belinda didn’t know whether to be irritated or grateful that his touch instantly soothed some of her fear.

  “Could you tell about how tall the intruder was?” Junior asked when she’d finished telling him what had happened.

  “It all happened so fast I didn’t pay attention to any details.” She frowned, feeling stupid and inadequate. “Whoever it was, was taller than me.”

  “What about build? Thin, heavy…medium build?”

  Again Belinda frowned. “Not heavy…I don’t know, medium build, I guess.” She forced a smile. “I’m not much help, am I?”

  “It was dark. You were scared.” Derek squeezed her hand. “Nobody expects anything from you.”

  She smiled at him gratefully. For the moment their past was just that—the past. She was grateful for his support now, when her family was far away and she needed somebody.

  Junior stood and put his notepad and pen in his pocket. “Well, that about does it, at least for tonight. I’ll send that stick we found to the Cheyenne lab, see if they can lift some fingerprints. Maybe then we’ll know exactly who’s responsible for all this mess.”

  While Derek walked the sheriff to the door, Belinda rinsed the coffee mugs and placed them in the dishwasher. When she turned around, Derek stood in the doorway, his expression inscrutable. “We need to talk,” he said.

  She nodded, not knowing what he wanted to talk about, but unsettled by the dark secrets that suddenly seemed to radiate from his eyes. She sank into her chair at the table and looked at him expectantly.

  As he walked across the room to the table, his limp was more noticeable than usual. Again she wondered what had happened to cause the injury, but didn’t feel comfortable in asking him.

  Before he sat, he went to a drawer and pulled out several sheets of paper. “I’d hoped I wouldn’t have to tell you about these. I didn’t want to needlessly frighten you, but after tonight you have a right to know.”

  “I don’t understand. What are you talking about?” She looked at him in confusion.

  “Just look at these.” He pushed the papers in front of her.

  Belinda picked up the first one. “Belinda Connor Is In Danger.” The words were written in bold, black marker. She looked up at Derek, then back at the letter, her heart starting to pound a rapid rhythm. “Wh-where did you get this?”

  “That first one was mailed to me about a month before I moved back here. It was postmarked Cheyenne, but needless to say had no return address.”

  “I—I don’t understand. Who would send you something like this?”

  “Read the rest of them,” he said, his grim tone causing a roiling dread inside her.

  She moved the first note aside and the next one glared at her. BELINDA CONNOR MUST DIE. Horror swept through her. ACCIDENTS HAPPEN—BE LINDA IS GOING TO HAVE ONE. Then BELINDA IS AS GOOD AS DEAD. There was a total of five notes in all; five prophesies of her death.

  “Is this all some kind of sick joke?” She finally found her voice.

  “I’d hoped it was a joke…one in very poor taste. But too many things have happened for us not to take these notes seriously.”

  “These are what brought you back here? All the rest of it—the children, the judge, your need for a wife—was all lies?”

  “No. That’s all true.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me about these before now?” she asked, fighting the wave of anger building inside her. “I had a right to know about these. What kind of a game are you playing that you’d keep this from me?”

  He flushed slightly beneath her glare. “At first I didn’t tell you because I thought they might be just a terrible joke. Then I started wondering why, if somebody wanted to hurt you, they’d want to warn me before the fact.” His eyes bore into hers with dark intensity. “Belinda, this isn’t just about you, and it isn’t just about me. It’s about us. And if it
’s about us, then it has to be about something that happened three years ago when we were together.”

  “But what?” Belinda asked softly. She focused on the notes, the glaring words causing cold fingers to waltz up her spine.

  “I’m beginning to think that somehow what’s happening to you now and the fire three years ago are connected.” His brows drew together in thought. “Initially, I didn’t tie it all together, and I still don’t know what connects them, but I think they are.”

  “But how?” She rubbed the center of her forehead, where a throb of confusion had awakened. “The fire that burned down your house had nothing to do with me.”

  “I don’t know,” he admitted.

  For a moment a silence stretched between them. Belinda allowed her mind to drift backward in time, to that summer when she and Derek had discovered the joy of love, the pleasure of passion. It was crazy to believe that anything she and Derek might have done in youthful splendor would create the kind of maliciousness it took for somebody to set a fire, and three years later make attempts on her life.

  She suddenly remembered the conversation she’d had earlier in the week with Janice. “Derek, what about Bear?”

  He frowned. “What about him?”

  “The other day Janice and I were talking, and she reminded me that Bear got the money for his business from his father after the sale of the hardware store.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “The way I remember the gossip at the time, Bear’s father was pressuring your dad to sell him his half of the business, but your dad wasn’t interested in selling.”

  “Dad enjoyed being a businessman, and prided himself on the little personal touches the store offered customers. He didn’t want to sell, but the fire took his heart away.” Derek’s eyes darkened and in their shadows Belinda saw deep pain and the suspicion of a friend’s betrayal.

  She knew how close he and Bear had always been and she hated having to taint that friendship with the possibility of treachery, but at the moment nobody could be above suspicion.

  He raked a hand through his hair, the gesture causing the short blond strands to stand on end. Still, the disarray did nothing to dispel his attractiveness. She fought the impulse to stroke down his hair, say something to alleviate the dark shadows of suspicion in his eyes.

  “It doesn’t make sense,” he finally said. “If Bear or his father set the fire in order to get my father to sell, then what’s happening now? How does that tie in with these notes? To the threats against you?”

  “I don’t know.” She rubbed her forehead again, her headache blossoming with each moment that passed. “I can’t think anymore tonight.”

  “You’re right. It’s late and we both could use a good night’s sleep.” Derek stood. “Come on, I’ll get you settled in the guest room, then we’ll talk more in the morning.”

  Belinda nodded, grateful for his mention of a guest room. When she’d told him she wanted to stay here for the night, she hadn’t thought ahead to what the sleeping arrangements might be. At the moment she was exhausted enough that a pallet on the floor would be fine with her.

  She followed him up the stairs to a small room she hadn’t seen before. Furnished with a double bed and dresser drawers, the room was as impersonal as a motel room.

  “I haven’t done much in here yet,” Derek said, as if reading her mind. “But it should be adequate for a good night’s sleep. The bathroom is just across the hall and if you need anything else, just knock on my door.”

  “Thank you, Derek. I don’t know what I would have done without your help tonight.”

  He shrugged, as always his gaze dark and enigmatic. “Good night, Belinda.” He turned to walk away.

  “Derek?” Belinda’s heart pounded unsteadily. He looked back at her. “Your marriage proposition, is it still available?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “I accept.”

  Before he could say another word, she closed the bedroom door and expelled a tremulous sigh. She’d done it. Heaven help her, the die was cast. She’d saved the ranch…she just hoped she could pay the price without sacrificing her soul.

  DEREK STARED at the bedroom door a long moment after it was closed in his face. I accept. The words rang in his ears, creating myriad emotions to sweep through him. First and foremost was joy. With their marriage, the judge would have absolutely no reason not to release the children into his care.

  He turned away from the guest room and stopped first at the bedroom he’d prepared for Tasha, then Toby’s. He remained in the doorway of the little boy’s room, for the first time hope filling his heart. Hope for the future.

  He’d given up hoping for any happiness in his future when he’d spent those torturous days and nights in his hospital bed.

  He’d remembered Belinda telling him how beautiful he was, stroking the length of his body in reverence. As he’d stared at his wounds day after day, watched his mother’s face each time she looked at his leg, he’d put away his dreams of love and family.

  But now, with Belinda’s agreement to become his wife, part of those distant dreams would come true. He’d be the best father he could to those children and his house would be filled with love and laughter.

  He moved away from Toby’s room and went into the master suite. As he undressed for bed, he thought of how funny Fate could be. At one time he’d dreamed of being married to Belinda, having children and building a future based in love. The fire had destroyed those dreams, yet Fate had given him a twisted version of them. Unlike his youthful fantasies, their marriage would not be based on love or passion. There was no place in his heart for these emotions. Rather, their marriage was based on need, on convenience, and on the concept that once they each gained what they wanted, they’d go their separate ways.

  With a frown, he turned off the light, then moved to the window. From this vantage point he could see the top of the crooked oak, although he couldn’t see the Connor place.

  If what he believed was true, that somehow he and Belinda were connected in the mind of somebody who wanted to harm Belinda, then what sort of repercussions would their marriage have?

  This most recent attack on Belinda screamed of desperation. The incident with the driver who’d forced her off the road on the night of the Harvest Moon Dance could have been written off as an accident. A foolish drunk driving too fast. Even the shots that had been fired at them might possibly have been denoted as an accident. A careless hunter who hadn’t realized where his bullets had traveled.

  But there was no way to misconstrue what had happened tonight. Somebody had tried to kill Belinda and while some attempt had been made to make it look like a burglary turned homicide, Derek had no doubt that the sole motive for the break-in had been to kill Belinda.

  He leaned his head against the windowpane and in his mind he heard the ticking of an imaginary bomb; Whoever was after Belinda was cunning, and working off some master plan that made no sense, that had its basis in some kind of madness. Only madness could explain what was going on.

  He sensed an approaching explosion, a heightened danger, felt the vibration of an advancing train. What scared the hell out of him was, he had the distinct feeling that he and Belinda were chained together on the railroad tracks.

  Chapter Nine

  Although Belinda was exhausted, it took her some time to unwind and fall asleep. When sleep finally came, it carried with it nightmare after nightmare. She dreamed of fire, of Derek, and of black-clad figures wielding wickedly sharp knives.

  She awoke with the colors of dawn streaming in through the window and painting their warm hues on the walls. For a moment she was disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings, then she remembered. She was at Derek’s, in his guest room.

  Sitting up, she pulled the rubber band from the end of her braid and ran her fingers through her hair to separate the strands. She’d forgotten to release it from the braid before she went to sleep.

  Although she’d only had a couple hours of sleep, and that
disturbed by bad dreams, she felt relatively rested. After a shower and a cup of coffee, she’d be ready to face the new day.

  She got up and grabbed the jogging pants she’d taken off the night before from the top of the dresser. She pulled them on, below the T-shirt she’d slept in, then went across the hall to the guest bathroom.

  Standing beneath the spray of the shower, she allowed her mind to roam free, trying to digest all that had happened the night before.

  Why would somebody want to try to kill her? She shivered as she remembered those moments of facing the intruder. She turned the faucet to make the water warmer. Who would hate her enough to break in to her home and try to stab her? What had she done to warrant such hatred?

  Who had sent those notes to Derek? How could the fire three years ago and what was happening to her now be connected? Each question brought no answers, rather merely evoked more questions.

  After showering, she dressed once again in the T-shirt and sweatpants she’d borrowed from Derek, then headed for the stairs to go down to the kitchen.

  As she walked down the staircase, she smelled the fragrant brew of freshly made coffee. Apparently Derek was awake, as well.

  He sat at the kitchen table staring into the cup of coffee in front of him. For a moment she stood at the foot of the stairs, taking the opportunity to study him before he noticed her presence.

  He’d probably had dozens of women in the years since leaving here. Women would find his clean-cut features and masculine build attractive.

  Had he held another woman like he’d once held her? Whispered the same sweet promises, the same words of love? Had another woman believed those words and suffered the same kind of heartbreak that Belinda had?

  She shoved aside these thoughts and walked toward. him. He looked up as she approached. “You didn’t sleep long.”

  “Neither did you.” She got herself a cup of coffee and joined him at the table. She tried not to notice how the early morning sun peeking in the window painted his bare chest in warm, golden hues.