Free Against the Rules by Linda Howard Page A

importance to him.
    Cathryn shook her head. She was thinking like an amateur psychiatrist, and she had enough trouble sorting out her own thoughts and emotions without taking on someone like Rule. He certainly wasn’t uncertain about anything now. If there was anyone on this earth who knew what he wanted, it was Rule Jackson. She was simply letting Ricky’s paranoia cloud her own thinking.
    All afternoon Cathryn thought of what she had said to Rule earlier, and reluctantly she came to the conclusion that she would have to apologize. No one could ever accuse him of not working, of not putting the ranch first. Whatever his reason, he had driven himself past the point where lesser men would have broken, not for his personal gain but for the good of the ranch. Facing it squarely, she admitted that she had been wrong and had flared into rage out of sheer, petty jealousy, striking out at him for cherishing the same land that she loved so deeply. She was wrong, and she felt small.
    When he finally came in to wash before dinner her heart tightened painfully at the sight of him. His face was taut with weariness, his clothing soaked in sweat and overlaid with a thick coat of dust that was turning to mud on his body, evidence that he was no shirker when it came to work. She stopped him before he went up the stairs, placing her slim hand on his dirty sleeve.
    â€œI’m sorry for the way I acted this afternoon,” she said directly, meeting his flinty gaze without flinching. “I was wrong, and I apologize. This ranch would never have made it without you, and I...I suppose I envy you.”
    He looked down at her, his face blank and hard. Then he took off his sweat-stained hat, wiping his sleeve across his moist face and leaving a brown smear of mud behind. “At least you’re not totally blind,” he snapped, pulling his arm from her touch and taking the stairs two at a time, his lithe body moving easily, as though weariness were a stranger to him.
    Cathryn sighed, torn between wry laughter and the anger that he so easily provoked. Had she really thought that he would be gracious? As long as he was angry no apology she could make would pacify him.
    Dinner was a silent meal. Monica was quiet, Ricky sullen. Rule wasn’t a conversationalist at any time, but at least he did justice to the hot meal Lorna had provided for him. As soon as he was finished he excused himself and disappeared into the study, closing the door with a thud. Ricky looked up and shrugged. “Well, that’s a normal evening. Exciting, isn’t it? You’re used to a big city, to entertainment. You’ll go crazy here.”
    â€œI’ve always liked a quiet life,” replied Cathryn, not looking up from the peach cobbler she was destroying with delicate greed. “David and I weren’t the life of the town.” They really hadn’t had much time together, she reminded herself painfully. She was glad they had spent it learning to know each other, rather than wasting the precious time they’d had in socializing.
    It was still early, but she felt tired. Lorna cleared away the dishes and stacked them in the dishwasher; Monica went upstairs to her bedroom to watch television in privacy. After sulking for a few minutes Ricky flounced upstairs to her own room.
    Left on her own, Cathryn didn’t linger. On an impulse she opened the door of the study to tell Rule good-night, but paused with the words unsaid when she saw him sprawled back in the oversized chair, sound asleep, his booted feet propped up on the desk. Papers scattered on the desk indicated his intention to work, but he hadn’t been able to fight off sleep any longer. Again that funny wrenching of her heart caught at her as she watched him.
    Vaguely annoyed with herself, she started to back out of the room when his eyes snapped open and he stared at her. “Cat,” he said huskily, his voice rough with sleep. “Come here.”
    Even as