He had also learned that he would never again be in a position where another man would have complete control over his life. His respect for the law was gone. The law was nothing more than a tool the rich used to protect their wealth. A poor man had only his mind and his strength of will to protect him, and Ross had determined in those three lost years that his will would never again be subject to others.
He had come out of prison a different man, a stronger man, harder. And he had come out determined to bring Harvey Dale to his knees.
So, the woman he had held hostage so briefly was Devina Dale. Devina. Of course. A common name like Mary or Sally would not do for the daughter of Harvey Dale. Jake had said that Harvey Dale was enraged when his daughter arrived in town thoroughly shaken by the holdup. Strange, he thought. Miss Devina Dale had not appeared all that shaken to him. She had refused to submit to his threat, retained her arrogance to the last. He remembered with particular vividness her erect, proud posture when he released her to join the other passengers. And he remembered only too vividly the struggle that had raged within him as he had fought the desire to ride up behind her, sweep her onto his horse, and carry her away.
He had told her she was not worth the trouble. Those words rang hollow in the back of his mind. He should have trusted his instincts, as blind as they had been. He had sensed then that she would be worth whatever trouble she gave him.
The sun was warm against his flesh and he closed his eyes and rubbed his face dry. His black eyes slanted upward above bold cheekbones framed by dark arched brows. Clean-shaven, his features were strong, compelling, his jaw hard and determined.
Ross began dressing. He had put his time in the pool to good use. He had emerged refreshed, clean-shaven, and with a plan. Devina Dale was the key to that plan.
A familiar spark ignited inside Ross at the thought of Devina Dale. It grew to a warm heat with the memory of her sweet scent, the womanly softness that had filled his arms. He remembered the haughty spirit in those great blue eyes as they flashed heatedly into his. He would enjoy taming her almost as much as he would enjoy making Harvey Dale suffer as he and his father had suffered.
Fully dressed, Ross walked rapidly back toward the cabin. Avid anticipation curved his lips into a smile.
Devina slowly descended the carpeted staircase. She gazed at the elaborate stained-glass panel above the front door, temporarily mesmerized by its exquisite beauty. Countless pieces of delicate colored glass, cut and arranged to form the pattern of the dawn of a new day. The muted hues at the base, blended with unmistakable artistry, gradually stirred to life, growing into a heated blaze of color with a subtlety of technique that was unique, breathtaking! The work of a master.
A brilliant morning sun shone through the panes, enhancing the dazzling composition before her, and Devina paused a little longer to indulge herself in the glorious wash of color that bathed the foyer. With a last lingering glance she continued down the staircase. If she were to be truly honest, she would have to admit that the artistic stained-glass window was just one of the many surprises that had awaited her when she entered her father's residence in Tombstone.
A few steps more brought her onto a lush Brussels carpet, and her mind unconsciously registered the depth of the pile, the beauty of the pattern. She raised her eyes to the crystal chandelier, trailed her glance down the walls, which were covered with rich silk. The mahogany furniture was elegant enough to grace the far more grandiose Dale mansion in New York, and an exquisite Ming vase stood on a small table in the corner.
This unexpected elegance, so casually displayed, appeared to mark the entire house. Devina's bedroom was unusually large and boasted an enormous canopy bed, an elaborately carved fireplace, and massive mahogany furniture. The yellow silk coverlet, bed curtains, and window draperies told her the room had been decorated with her taste in mind. The thoughtfulness touched her deeply. She was surprised her father had remembered that yellow was her favorite color.
As she approached the sunlit morning room at the far end of the hallway, she realized this house probably would afford her many more surprises.
She had not expected this touch of civilization when she received her father's command to join him in Tombstone… and a command it had been. Resentment, deep and profound, had been her response. During all those years in exclusive boarding schools, Devina had borne the loneliness and had dug deep inside herself for the strength to use it to her own advantage. And finally she had overcome it, become strong, self-reliant, determined not to be dependent on her father's love… or, indeed, on anyone's love. Love was a trap. It had been a trap for her beautiful, long-suffering mother, who had lived for Harvey Dale, enduring his neglect, his countless affairs without a word of recrimination.
No, she could never see herself in Mama's place, as much as she had loved Mama for her gentleness, her understanding, and even her self-sacrifice. With all the wisdom she had earned from her broken twelve-year-old heart, she had determined, when her mother died, that she would not try to fill her shoes, not for her father or any man. Only those like Harvey Dale
survivedthe
strong, the ruthless, those who used love. She, too, was determined to survive.
So she had embraced the life her father had forced upon her, turned her eyes toward education, the arts. Possessing no talent herself, she had become deeply appreciative of the talent of others, without ever becoming subservient to that appreciation. A few months before, at eighteen, she had graduated from school and been firmly ensconced in the home of an extremely indulgent Aunt Emily. She had been cognizant of her many assets, the fact that she was an acknowledged beauty, wealthy, sought after by countless extremely eligible bachelors and several not so eligible but very interesting rakes. She had been a woman at last, ready to enter society and take full advantage of the options open to her.
Then had come Father's command to join him on the uncivilized south-western frontier. She had been outraged! Tombstone! Even if the primitive mining town had not had a horrendous reputation, its name alone would have conjured up ghastly visions of a life she had no intention of enduring. Had she spent all those years in learning to appreciate the beautiful things in life only to be buried in a territory inhabited by savages and barbarians, a place that possessed not an iota of the elegance and appreciation of beauty to which she was so firmly devoted?
Outrage soared anew inside Devina. Her father's surprising statement of the day before had touched a spot deep inside her that had been an aching void for too long. He had said he loved her deeply. But the truth was that she was aware of his limited capacity to love. She had no doubt he had sincerely loved Mama, too… in his fashion.
Devina slowed her step, once more allowing her eyes to travel over the sunlit hallway and the unexpected touches of elegance. The wild, uncivilized Tombstone, a town lawless enough to have incurred the concern of President Arthur himself, was certainly not evident here.
Abruptly, as if to negate her most recent thought, Devina was revisited by the vision of cold, dark eyes, penetrating, ruthless eyes that had successfully invaded her dreams all night long. A chill passed down her spine as memory returned with heart-stopping clarity the sound of a deep voice filled with threat:
Repulsive, but in control… of you
…
She remembered the sensation of a hard chest against her back, his sinewy thighs supporting hers. She remembered the bite of the gun barrel against her ribs. She remembered…
More shaken by the memory than she cared to admit, Devina was reaching out a trembling hand to steady herself when sudden realization assaulted her: She was shuddering! A flush of true fury coming to her aid, Devina curled her shaking fingers into a tight fist and dropped her hand to her side. Taking a deep, determined breath, she straightened her back and resolutely raised her chin. What had come over her? Would she allow a common criminal an ignorant, uneducated derelict to intimidate her? For all her brave talk when she had faced him squarely, she was now reacting like a spineless faint-hearted ninny!
Suddenly grateful that there were no witnesses to her shameful weakness, Devina paused a moment longer as her anger continued to build, filling her with strengthening resolution. Once more she was assailed by memory:
You wouldn't be worth the trouble
…
Why did those words continue to resound in her mind?
Shrugging off the disturbing question, Devina took another deep breath and sought to slow the rapid pounding of her heart. With a searing hatred of which she had not realized she was capable, she renewed her silent vow: She would see the cowardly bully who had manhandled and insulted her brought to justice, and she would smile as he was forced to retract every word he had uttered to her.
No longer shaking, Devina raised a steady hand to smooth the upward sweep of her hair. A stiff smile on her delicate lips, she stepped into the sunlit morning room.
The sound of a light step in the doorway raised Harvey Dale's well-groomed silver head as Devina stepped into the morning room. He assessed her exquisite countenance with true concern as he rose to his feet. Yes, she looked well and strong. Relief, love, and pride surged through him in a startlingly strong flood as he pulled himself up to his impressive height. His patrician features creased into the engaging smile that had turned the head of many a sensible matron.
Devina, his darling daughter… he had missed her so dreadfully. Indulging himself a few moments longer, Harvey allowed his gaze to touch Devina's perfect cameo like features. Those crystal-clear blue eyes, those delicate winged brows, the lush sweep of her dark lashes were all so like her mother's. Her cheekbones, sculptured so exquisitely, the fine lines of her profile, those finely drawn lips. Only her hair was different, a glowing halo of silver-blond, similar to the color his own had been. Had her hair been dark, Devina would have been the image of her mother, his own dear Regina.
Regina… queen. Yes, his beautiful wife had truly been a queen, and he had loved her dearly. He had not realized how very deep had been his love until he lost her. But he had long ago ceased berating himself for allowing his own self-indulgence to cause Regina to suffer during the many years of their marriage. He had come to terms with his regrets by finally reassuring himself that Regina had realized his character was flawed but had loved him anyway.
A flicker of anxiety moved across Harvey's mind. To his everlasting torment, he was fully aware that such was not the case with Devina. Devina had been twelve, intelligent and perceptive, when her mother had died. The many nights when he had not returned home to her mother's bed, and her mother's subsequent unhappiness, had not escaped her. Nor had they been forgiven. In a flush of childish rage and sorrow after her mother's death, Devina had screamed her fury at his faithlessness. Her knowledge and pain had caused a rift between them, which he had attempted to eliminate by overindulging her, but that particular solution had provided him nothing but grief. Finally realizing that he had lost control of the situation and that, indeed, the situation was worsening, he had listened to well-meant advice and sent Devina away to boarding school.
Admittedly, her absence had allowed him more time for business pursuits, and other more intimate pursuits as well. With the aid of time and distance, the animosity between Devina and himself had begun to fade, and he would have been able to convince himself all was once again well had he not sensed an unyielding, impenetrable reserve in her attitude toward him. He had finally come to the painful realization that the loving, trusting child that Devina once had been no longer existed. It was then that he had realized he would give up everything he had worked so hard to achieve just to see unqualified love for him shining in Devina's eyes.
As she had become stronger and more independent, her strength of will had grown as unyielding as her determination to defy his orders. But despite her opposition, Harvey Dale had remained adamant. He had not done well by Regina; he had resolved to do better by Devina.
He had followed through with his plans for Devina by assuming an inconsistently strict posture. Now, despite the mistakes and regrets of the past, Devina was back with him. She was intelligent, well educated, beautiful, and, he acknowledged regretfully, spoiled to a fault.
But he had meant what he said: He loved her deeply. He was aware that this depth of feeling was foreign to his nature, and he was at a loss to explain it. But whether it was simply because she was his daughter, of his own flesh, or because he saw himself so clearly reflected in her despite her lack of physical resemblance to him, he was uncertain. He only knew the pain of her rejection had been as soul-shaking as the joy she had given him, and it had never quite faded from his mind. Devina was the one person in the world he loved more than he loved himself. She was his beautiful child. Would she never again love him unreservedly in return?
Stepping forward as Devina reached the table, Harvey took her hand. Succumbing to impulse, he bent his head to receive her kiss. Devina's hesitation, however minuscule, triggered an uncontrollable sadness within him.