The Cowboy Takes a Wife - Sample

Chapter Two

Elli stared at the piece of paper, all the while aware of Wyatt standing before her, the faded denim of his jeans constantly in her line of vision. She read the letter aloud, her soft voice echoing through the empty room. Listening to the words made it more real somehow. Wyatt seemed to look everywhere but at the baby.

Dear Wyatt, I know right now you're probably wondering what on earth is going on. And believe me, if I had another choice...

Elli risked a glance up. Wyatt was staring at a spot past her shoulder, his jaw tightly clenched, his gaze revealing nothing. She looked back down at the plain piece of paper, torn from a notebook with the edges rough and careless. Her stomach began an uneasy turning. This wasn't stationery chosen for such an important letter. This was hurried. Impulsive.

I don't know if you were ever aware, Wyatt, but we share a father. I am your half sister. I tried to hate you for it, but you were never mean to me like the others. Maybe you knew back then. Either way...you're all the family I've got now. You and Darcy. And I'm not good for either one of you. If there were any other way...but I can't do this.

Take good care of her for me.

The letter was signed simply, Barbara Paulsen.

If the letter were genuine—and she was inclined to think it was—then he was telling the truth. Darcy was his niece. More importantly, the words themselves disturbed her. Twice she had said she had no choice...why?

"Your sister..." she began quietly.

His boots did an about face and she looked up from the paper. He was no longer directly in front of her; he had moved and stopped at the front window, looking out over the hedge and small garden. There was a stiffness in his posture that caused Elli a moment of pause. Surely a mother's care was better than this...detachment. Wyatt showed the same cold, stubborn side faced with an infant as he had the afternoon they'd first met. Babies needed more than bottles and a place to sleep. They needed love. She wondered if Wyatt Black was even capable of tenderness.

She cleared her throat. "Your sister," she continued, her voice slightly stronger, "Must trust you very much."

"My sister?" The words came out in a harsh laugh. "We have a biological relationship, if that. I went to school with her, that's all."

"You don't believe her?"

He turned slowly from the window. His dark eyes were shuttered, his expression utterly closed, and she couldn't begin to imagine what he was thinking. Nothing about his face gave her a clue. She wanted to go over and shake him, get some sense of what was going through his male mind. It was clear to her that there was a plea in Barbara's note. She was asking for help. And he was standing here like some judgmental god doling out doubt and condemnation.

"There were rumors. I ignored them. It certainly makes sense, most of it anyway. It's not much of a stretch to think that my father..."

There, there it was. The flash of vulnerability, in his eyes and flickering through his voice. Gone just as quickly as it had surfaced but she'd caught it. What sort of life had he had as a boy? He wasn't shocked at the discovery of his father's betrayal, she realized. But he was bitter. She had to tread carefully. She folded up the letter neatly and handed it back to him.

"What if it's not true?"

His lips became a harsh, thin line. "It probably is," he admitted. "But I need to find out for sure. In the meantime..."