The Season Of Love: Beloved - Diana Palmer

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that disguised his handicap. He was handsome enough even with only one arm—he had thick, wavy black hair on a leonine head, with dark eyebrows and pale gray eyes. He was tall and well built, a dynamo of a man; former state attorney general of Texas and a nationally known trial lawyer, in addition to being one of the owners of the Hart Ranch Properties, which were worth millions. He and his brothers were as famous in cattle circles as Simon was in legal circles. He was filthy rich and looked it. But the money didn’t make up for the loneliness. His wife had died in the accident that took his arm. It had happened just after Tira’s marriage to John Beck.

      Tira had nursed him in the hospital, and gossip had run rampant. Simon was alluded to as the cause of the divorce. Stupid idea, he thought angrily, because he wouldn’t have had Tira on a bun with ketchup. Only a week after the divorce, she was seen everywhere with playboy Charles Percy, who was still her closest companion. He was probably her lover, as well, Simon thought with suppressed fury. He liked Percy no better than he liked Tira. Strange that Percy hadn’t come to the funeral, but perhaps he did have some sense of decency, however small.

      Simon wondered if Tira realized how he really felt about her. He had to be pleasant to her; anything else would have invited comment. But secretly, he despised her for what she’d done to John. Tira was cold inside—selfish and cold and unfeeling. Otherwise, how could she have turned John out after a month of marriage, and then let him go to work on a dangerous oil rig in the North Atlantic in an attempt to forget her? John had died there this week, in a tragic accident, having drowned in the freezing, churning waters before he could be rescued. Simon couldn’t help thinking that John wanted to die. The letters he’d had from his friend were full of his misery, his loneliness, his isolation from love and happiness.

      He glared in her direction, wondering how John’s father could bear to sit beside her like that, holding her slender hand as if he felt as sorry for her as he felt for himself at the loss of his son, his only child. Putting on a show for the public, he concluded irritably. He was pretending, to keep people from gossiping.

      Simon stared at the closed casket and winced. It was like the end of an era for him. First he’d lost Melia, his wife, and his arm; now he’d lost John, too. He had wealth and success, but no one to share it with. He wondered if Tira felt any guilt for what she’d done to John. He couldn’t imagine that she did. She was always flamboyant, vivacious, outgoing and mercurial. Simon had watched her without her knowing it, hating himself for what he felt when he looked at her. She was tall, beautiful, with long, glorious red-gold hair that went to her waist, pale green eyes and a figure right out of a fashion magazine. She could have been a model, but she was surprisingly shy for a pretty woman.

      Simon had already been married when they met, and it had been at his prompting that John had taken Tira out for the first time. He’d thought they were compatible, both rich and pleasant people. It had seemed a marriage made in heaven; until the quick divorce. Simon would never have admitted that he threw Tira together with John to get her out of his own circle and out of the reach of temptation. He told himself that she was everything he despised in a woman, the sort of person he could never care for. It worked, sometimes. Except for the ache he felt every time he saw her; an ache that wasn’t completely physical….

      When the funeral service was over, Tira went out with John’s father holding her elbow. The older man smiled sympathetically at Simon. Tira didn’t look at him. She was really crying; he could see it even through the veil.

      Good, Simon thought with cold vengeance. Good, I’m glad it’s hurt you. You killed him, after all!

      He didn’t look her way as he got into his black limousine and drove himself back to the office. He wasn’t going to the graveside service. He’d had all of Tira’s pathetic charade that he could stand. He wouldn’t think about those tears in her tragic eyes, or the genuine sadness in her white face. He wouldn’t think about her guilt or his own anger. It was better to put it all in the past and let it lie, forgotten. If he could. If he could….

       Chapter One

      The numbered lot of Hereford cattle at this San Antonio auction had been a real steal at the price, but Tira Beck had let it go without a murmur to the man beside her. She wouldn’t ever have admitted that she didn’t need to add to her substantial Montana cattle herd, which was managed by her foreman, since she lived in Texas. She’d only wanted to attend the auction because she knew Simon Hart was going to be there. Usually his four brothers in Jacobsville, Texas, handled cattle sales. But Simon, like Tira, lived in San Antonio where the auction was being held, so it seemed natural to let him make the bids.

      He wasn’t a rancher anymore. He was still tall and well built, with broad shoulders and a leonine head topped by thick black wavy hair. But the empty sleeve on his left side attested to the fact that his days of working cattle were pretty much over. It didn’t affect his ability to make a living, at least. He was a former state attorney general and a nationally famous trial attorney who could pick and choose high-profile cases. He made a substantial wage. His voice was still his best asset, a deep velvety one that projected well in a courtroom. In addition to that was a dangerously deceptive manner that lulled witnesses into a false sense of security before he cut them to pieces on the stand. He had a verbal killer instinct, and he used it to good effect.

      Tira, on the other hand, lived a hectic life doing charity work and was independently wealthy. She was a divorcée who had very little to do with men except on a platonic basis. There weren’t many friends, either. Simon Hart and Charles Percy were the lot, and Charles was hopelessly in love with his brother’s wife. She was the only person who knew that. Many people thought that she and Charles were lovers, which amused them both. She had her own secrets to keep. It suited her purposes to keep Simon in the dark about her emotional state.

      “That was a hell of an anemic bid you made,” Simon remarked as the next lot of cattle were led into the sale ring. “What’s wrong with you today?”

      “My heart’s not in it,” she replied. “I haven’t had a lot to do with the Montana ranch since Dad died. I’ve given some thought to selling the property. I’ll never live there again.”

      “You’ll never sell. You have too many attachments to the ranch. Besides, you’ve got a good manager in place up there,” he said pointedly.

      She shrugged, pushing away a wisp of glorious hair that had escaped from the elegant French twist at her nape. “So I have.”

      “But you’d rather swan around San Antonio with Charles Percy,” he murmured, his chiseled mouth twisting into a mocking smile.

      She glanced at him with lovely green eyes and hid a carefully concealed hope that he might be jealous. But his expression gave no hint of his feelings. Neither did those pale gray eyes under thick black eyebrows. It was the same old story. The wreck eight years ago that had cost him his arm had also cost him his beloved wife, Melia. Despite their differences, no one had doubted his love for her. He hadn’t been serious about a woman since her death, although he escorted his share of sophisticated women to local social events.

      “What’s the matter?” he asked when his sharp eyes caught her disappointment.

      She shrugged in her elegant black pantsuit. “Oh, nothing. I just thought that you might like to stand up and threaten to kill Charles if he came near me again.” She glanced at his shocked face and chuckled. “I’m kidding!” she chided.

      His gaze cut into hers for a second and then they moved back to the sale ring. “You’re in an odd mood today.”

      She sighed, returning her attention to the program in her beautifully manicured hands. “I’ve been in an odd mood for years. Not that I ever expect you to notice.”

      He closed his own program with a snap and glared down at her. “That’s another thing that annoys me, those throwaway remarks you make. If you want to say something to me, just come out and say it.”

      Typically blunt, she thought. She looked straight at him and she made a gesture of utter futility with one hand. “Why bother?”

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