not getting married by any justice of the peace."
His eyebrows arched. "Did I ask you to?"
"And I don't want a social event, either. Just a small wedding." She looked at her slender, ringless hands. "And I don't want my mother there. She'd make a circus out of it."
He relaxed a little. "Okay."
"And I don't want to have to walk down the aisle dragging my leg behind me."
"After we've done those exercises for a few weeks, you won't be dragging it behind you," he told her. "You'll improve. But it's going to take time and effort and hard work. And no backsliding."
"Tyrant," she muttered. "All right, I'll do it, even if I curl up and die of pain."
"When?" he asked, his voice strangely husky, his eyes searching hers.
"When do you want to?" she asked warily.
"Next week." When she gasped, he added, "Well, that's how it has to be unless you want newspaper coverage. I'm newsworthy-homely face and all."
"You are not homely; will you please stop running yourself down?" she asked, exasperated.
"If you'll stop talking about your gimpy leg, I'll stop talking about my homely mug," he replied.
"Done."
"Want a diamond?" he asked.
"No. Just a plain gold band."
"Have it your own way." He turned and started out the door.
"That's it?" she queried, astonished. "That's all?"
"What else do you want?" he asked reasonably. "If I get down on my knees on that cold floor, there's a good chance I'll be stuck there until spring. And kissing you to seal the engagement wouldn't make much sense, either, with you lying there naked."
"I am not naked!"
"As good as," he replied. "So I'm doing the decent thing and getting out of here, like a thoughtful prospective bridegroom. Don't stay up too late. We want to get a good start on those exercises in the morning. Sleep tight, now." And he closed the door behind him.
She stared at the door for a moment, open-mouthed. What a proposal! What an ardent bridegroom! She only wished she had some priceless Ming vase or something to fling at the door. She lay back, and with a muffled curse, pulled the covers over her head.
Ty, meanwhile, was walking down the long hallway whistling softly, his face animated, full of life-and almost handsome. He grinned and then he laughed. It was going to be a long, hard road, but he'd taken the first step. He was going to make up to her for every horrible thing that had happened. He was going to spoil her rotten. He opened the door to his own room and went in. Sleep would be a long time coming, he knew.
But he didn't even care.
Chapter Seven
Erin had hoped that being engaged would change Ty. Not so. He was the same as before, right down to the purely domineering way he made her do the hated exercises and stood over her the whole while.
"Why don't you do them too?" she grumbled a few mornings later as he was drilling her.
"My hip isn't busted," he explained patiently. "A little higher, honey; you aren't stretching far enough."
He never used to use endearments, but now he was calling her "honey" every chance he got. She smiled a little at that telling change of character. Well, she conceded, perhaps he had changed a bit. He was more relaxed since she'd been at the ranch, more approachable. She studied him while she did the bicycle exercise and thought that he didn't even seem all that homely to her anymore. He was a striking man physically, and he had beautiful hands-long-fingered, lean and elegant, darkly tanned like the rest of him, with flat nails and a sprinkling of dark hair on the backs.
"Take a picture," he advised, catching her appraisal. "It'll scare off the crows."
"Shame on you," she chided. "I was just admiring your manly physique, not criticizing you."
"You're not bad yourself," he murmured, smiling faintly as he ran his eyes over her body. "That burgundy thing you're wearing looks good on you."
"Thank you," she said, surprised by
His eyebrows arched. "Did I ask you to?"
"And I don't want a social event, either. Just a small wedding." She looked at her slender, ringless hands. "And I don't want my mother there. She'd make a circus out of it."
He relaxed a little. "Okay."
"And I don't want to have to walk down the aisle dragging my leg behind me."
"After we've done those exercises for a few weeks, you won't be dragging it behind you," he told her. "You'll improve. But it's going to take time and effort and hard work. And no backsliding."
"Tyrant," she muttered. "All right, I'll do it, even if I curl up and die of pain."
"When?" he asked, his voice strangely husky, his eyes searching hers.
"When do you want to?" she asked warily.
"Next week." When she gasped, he added, "Well, that's how it has to be unless you want newspaper coverage. I'm newsworthy-homely face and all."
"You are not homely; will you please stop running yourself down?" she asked, exasperated.
"If you'll stop talking about your gimpy leg, I'll stop talking about my homely mug," he replied.
"Done."
"Want a diamond?" he asked.
"No. Just a plain gold band."
"Have it your own way." He turned and started out the door.
"That's it?" she queried, astonished. "That's all?"
"What else do you want?" he asked reasonably. "If I get down on my knees on that cold floor, there's a good chance I'll be stuck there until spring. And kissing you to seal the engagement wouldn't make much sense, either, with you lying there naked."
"I am not naked!"
"As good as," he replied. "So I'm doing the decent thing and getting out of here, like a thoughtful prospective bridegroom. Don't stay up too late. We want to get a good start on those exercises in the morning. Sleep tight, now." And he closed the door behind him.
She stared at the door for a moment, open-mouthed. What a proposal! What an ardent bridegroom! She only wished she had some priceless Ming vase or something to fling at the door. She lay back, and with a muffled curse, pulled the covers over her head.
Ty, meanwhile, was walking down the long hallway whistling softly, his face animated, full of life-and almost handsome. He grinned and then he laughed. It was going to be a long, hard road, but he'd taken the first step. He was going to make up to her for every horrible thing that had happened. He was going to spoil her rotten. He opened the door to his own room and went in. Sleep would be a long time coming, he knew.
But he didn't even care.
Chapter Seven
Erin had hoped that being engaged would change Ty. Not so. He was the same as before, right down to the purely domineering way he made her do the hated exercises and stood over her the whole while.
"Why don't you do them too?" she grumbled a few mornings later as he was drilling her.
"My hip isn't busted," he explained patiently. "A little higher, honey; you aren't stretching far enough."
He never used to use endearments, but now he was calling her "honey" every chance he got. She smiled a little at that telling change of character. Well, she conceded, perhaps he had changed a bit. He was more relaxed since she'd been at the ranch, more approachable. She studied him while she did the bicycle exercise and thought that he didn't even seem all that homely to her anymore. He was a striking man physically, and he had beautiful hands-long-fingered, lean and elegant, darkly tanned like the rest of him, with flat nails and a sprinkling of dark hair on the backs.
"Take a picture," he advised, catching her appraisal. "It'll scare off the crows."
"Shame on you," she chided. "I was just admiring your manly physique, not criticizing you."
"You're not bad yourself," he murmured, smiling faintly as he ran his eyes over her body. "That burgundy thing you're wearing looks good on you."
"Thank you," she said, surprised by
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