To Desire a Wilde. Kimberly Kaye Terry
she took a few steps away, when the boot of her heel caught on a piece of timber, turning her ankle and twisting her knee. She hissed, reached down and gingerly rubbed her knee.
Immediately he was there, next to her, grabbing her beneath the elbow to steady her.
“Are you okay?” Shilah asked, his warm hand cupped beneath her elbow.
Ellie bit back a curse. Of all the times for her to lose her balance—this was the one time she would give anything for it not to happen.
She shook her head, dismissing her clumsiness, hiding her grimace as well as her embarrassment.
“I’m fine … just clumsy,” she said. “And I should have known better than to try and be cute by wearing these boots,” she finished in self-mockery, laughing lightly and glancing up at him. As she looked into his handsome face, old ghosts reared and Ellie inwardly cringed, expecting to see sympathy in his dark eyes. That was something she couldn’t take. Especially from Shilah.
“From where I stand, I’d have to say with all selfishness that a potential tumble was well worth it, considering what those boots do for your legs.”
She wet her bottom lip, not sure what to say she was so shocked at his reply. She tugged the hem of her skirt down past her knee and glanced back up at him. Instead of the sympathy she dreaded to see lurking there, what she saw made her draw in a short breath.
She remembered how gorgeous he’d been as a young man, the way he’d look at her, a half smile on his sensual lips in response to something she’d said, sending her young heart thumping out of control. But now, standing before her, so tall that his broad shoulders blocked out the noontime sun’s blazing rays, Stetson held loosely in his big hand … the man was devastating.
She drew in a breath, wetting the bottom rim of her lip. When his gaze followed her action, she swallowed and forced herself to look away.
“Are you okay?” he asked again, and she shook her head, the smile on her face shaky.
“I’m fine.” When she pulled away slightly, after only a brief pause, he released his hold on her, allowing her to move away.
“So I see,” he said, and her gaze flew to his again, her heartbeat hiccupping in her chest. In his enigmatic expression she was unable to determine if he meant the comment in any way besides the reference to her turning her ankle.
She smiled tightly and turned toward the horse in the corral.
“Dad says you and your brothers have started breeding racehorses,” she said, in an attempt to get the conversation toward safer ground.
She felt his gaze on hers and held her breath, only releasing it when he turned toward the horse.
“Yeah, we’ve gone into breeding and crossbreeding. It’s been going well for us. It was mainly Nate’s idea, although we’ve been thinking about doing it for a while now,” he said, and she nodded her head.
“Dad says you bought more land a couple of years ago,” she both asked and stated.
“We did. Actually it was six years ago, after Dad died. It was part of the original land he’d purchased but had to sell in order to keep the ranch afloat years ago.”
“Has he been … gone that long?” she shook her head.
The mention of Jed Wilde brought a look of sadness to Shilah’s face. “Yeah, time has a way of going on, no matter what.”
“Seems like yesterday he was out here with you … with all of us. Teaching us, sharing his love for the ranch,” she said after a long moment, a reminiscent smile on her face. “Showing us how to brand a cow,” she finished with a small laugh.
“Yeah, and I remember that only too well. When he offered to let you brand one you had no problem. Did it like you’d been branding cows your whole life. But when my turn came around, I passed out,” he said with a groan, and Ellie laughed outright.
“That’s funny, huh?” he asked, and although his look was stern, she saw the humor lurking in his unique eyes.
“Yep, sure is,” she quipped, unrepentant. “What was it Holt started calling you after that?” Ellie frowned, trying to remember the nickname.
“Sheila … Little Heifer Who Sleeps With Cows,” he filled in, deadpan, and Ellie’s laughter grew. “He shortened it to Sheila.”
“Oh, my God, that was funny,” she said around her laughter.
“I caught a lot of shit from my brothers about that. It was a long time before Holt stop referring to me by that name,” he said, running a hand over the back of his neck, a humorous yet chagrined look on his handsome face, and a fresh wave of giggles assaulted Ellie.
“Of course, after that, Holt, the eternal funnyman, couldn’t stop. When I sliced into my finger while we were slaughtering I was known as Sheila, Boy Who Spills His Guts,” he said, and again, Ellie’s laughter rang out. By the time he finished reminiscing about the various nicknames his brother had given him, she was swiping tears from her eyes.
“Why’d you leave, Ellie? Why’d you leave without saying goodbye?”
His question brought Ellie up short and her laughter died out. Slowly, she dragged her eyes up to meet his intense stare.
Shilah glanced down at Ellie, taking in the somber set of her features, and he cursed himself.
For a moment, she was the young girl he remembered from their childhood, particularly before her accident, when her carefree laughter would ring out on the wings of the wind as she played on the ranch.
Within several months of his calling the ranch home, Shilah had first glimpsed Ellie. It was her laughter that had brought him to the shed that held the horses. He’d watched as she’d fed the horse, petting and talking to it as though it understood what she was saying. Her love and natural affinity for the horse had reminded him of his life on the reservation and instantly made him curious about her.
He’d followed her without her knowledge as she’d taken the horse out for a ride.
He’d stayed out far enough behind that she hadn’t been aware of him, yet he’d been able to watch her and it had set a pattern. Whenever she’d visit the ranch, while her father took care of the animals she’d go for one of her rides, and he’d find an excuse to leave without his brothers or foster father knowing.
He’d been set to follow her one day as she rode, but a call from Jed had made him turn around and head back home. It had been on that day that part of her laughter had been taken from her, a day he’d never forgotten.
The accident had been freakish and although he, his brothers and father weren’t to blame, a part of Shilah had always faulted himself for her fall. Had he followed her that day, or at least told her father where she was, he could have somehow prevented the fall and the accident.
It had taken a long time after the accident before he had been able to forget the pain in her eyes when she’d glanced up at him. She’d looked so small in the hospital bed, the crisp white linens startling against her deep brown skin as she gazed up at him, pain and confusion in her light brown eyes.
It had taken even longer for him to finally get the nerve up to talk to her. By then, she was even more closed off, more introverted than he remembered, and any attempt at conversation was normally met with silence or at most a short reply before she’d make an excuse to turn and, favoring her uninjured leg, walk away.
His glance slid over her as she stood close to him, their gazes locked.
Eventually, she’d begun to thaw toward him, open up to him, allowing him to become what he’d learned was a small circle of people she trusted. Her visits to the ranch with her father increased, and whenever he knew she was coming, he took pains with his appearance, carefully keeping his friendship with Ellie from his brothers.
Not because he was afraid of the ribbing