Wildest Dreams - By Rosanne Bittner Page 0,15

thought of myself as a woman men would desire that way." She shivered in another sob. "When the blond one finished with me, he took Dancer anyway... but I lost much more than my horse that night."

Luke's arms enfolded her even more firmly, and she felt a great comfort, a serene feeling of safety and warmth nestled there against him. There came another torrent of tears as she clung to his ruffled shirt, and he let her cry for several minutes, stroking her hair, kissing it.

"He never really touched you, Lettie, don't you see? If a woman doesn't want to be touched that way, then she's not done one thing wrong, and nothing the man does can hurt her or change her. If he was here today, I'd kill him; but there's nothing that can be done about it now except to go on. Let me erase the memories, Lettie. I promise you I can do it."

He pulled away slightly, studied her face. It was nearly dark, but he could see her in the dim light of dusk, ached at the sight of the tears on her cheeks. He took a clean handkerchief from an inside pocket of his suit jacket and handed it to her. "Tell me you don't love me, Lettie. Tell me there isn't a part of you that wants me. Tell me you won't miss me and ache for me if we part ways tomorrow."

She wiped at her tears and nose, watching his eyes. Why should she fear this man who had shown himself to be everything any woman would want? Why should she not accept the love he offered? "I would miss you, Luke. I'm afraid to leave my family, afraid to go to a place like Montana; but I'm more afraid of going on without you. I was so determined I'd tell you I won't marry you, that we should part tomorrow, but I can't. I... I just want you to be sure that what happened to me doesn't bother you. You deserve the best, Luke."

He shook his head. "You're the one who deserves the best. Do you think I don't have my own reservations about being a good husband? Maybe you're the one who's not getting what she deserves. You've had a good life, Lettie. It's going to be rough for us at first, dangerous, lonely. There won't be any of the comforts you're used to. Besides that..." He sighed, pain in his eyes. "Don't be worrying about being worthy of me, Lettie. I guess it's only fair that you know the truth about what brought me out here. You might change your mind after all." He let go of her, a strange fear in his eyes.

"What is it, Luke? Is it something about your father?"

It was almost fully dark now, but the full moon was rising higher, looking huge and appearing to be sitting on the rim of the eastern horizon. "My father doesn't believe I'm his son. He says I'm a bastard."

Lettie blinked in surprise. "Luke, that's terrible! Why would he tell you a thing like that?"

He came closer again. "Because he believes it's true and never wanted me to share in any family inheritance. He told me when I was fourteen. I had broken something expensive in one of his supply stores, and in a fit of rage he told me." He swallowed, turning away again. "I felt as though somebody had shoved a knife into my gut. Later on he took me aside, told me he believed my mother had had an affair. She died when I was four, so I have no way of knowing the truth. I only remember her as a sweet, gentle, loving woman. I do know I don't look like my father the way my brother does." He rubbed at his eyes. "When he told me, I understood a lot of things, like why my father never kept pictures of my mother in the house, why he never showed me the love he showed my brother. Still, I stayed on, worked for him. I was young and confused, not sure what to do. He was the only father I knew. Then a year ago he told me he had cut me out of his will. He was getting older and figured I should know beforehand. He wanted to be sure I didn't give my brother, his real son, a court fight after he died. He gave me money—a payoff, I guess you'd call it,"