Rage of Passion

A vacation at her godmother’s ranch near Abilene would have been the perfect place for Maggie Turner to escape her ex-husband’s threats. Perfect, that is, if it hadn’t been for Gabe Coleman. Tall, lithe and lean, he was just as blunt, rude—and powerfully sensual—as he’d been ten years ago.

His cold formality gave her the goose bumps. And his icy blue eyes watched her like those of a hungry cat—daring her to look beneath his savage surface. She thought marriage had cured her of desire. Then the raging passions of a Texas cowboy gave her a new lease on love.

Rage of Passion

THE

ESSENTIAL COLLECTION

New York Times and USA TODAY Bestselling Author

Diana Palmer

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For my niece Helen, who sews a fine seam

Dear Reader,

I really can't express how flattered I am and also how grateful I am to Mills & Boon Books for releasing this collection of my published works. It came as a great surprise. I never think of myself as writing books that are collectible. In fact, there are days when I forget that writing is work at all. What I do for a living is so much fun that it never seems like a job. And since I reside in a small community, and my daily life is confined to such mundane things as feeding the wild birds and looking after my herb patch in the backyard, I feel rather unconnected from what many would think of as a glamorous profession.

But when I read my email, or when I get letters from readers, or when I go on signing trips to bookstores to meet all of you, I feel truly blessed. Over the past thirty years I have made lasting friendships with many of you. And quite frankly, most of you are like part of my family. You can't imagine how much you enrich my life. Thank you so much.

I also need to extend thanks to my family (my husband, James, son, Blayne, daughter-in-law, Christina, and granddaughter, Selena Marie), to my best friend, Ann, to my readers, booksellers and the wonderful people at Mills & Boon Books—from my editor of many years, Tara, to all the other fine and talented people who make up our publishing house. Thanks to all of you for making this job, and my private life, so worth living.

Thank you for this tribute, Mills & Boon, and for putting up with me for thirty long years! Love to all of you.

Diana Palmer

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter One

The telegram crumpled in the slender hand, a scrap of badly used timber that would have served better as the tree it once was. Pale green eyes stared down at it, hated it.

“Is it bad news, Mama?”

Becky's soft young voice broke through the anguish, brought her back to the reality of the huge empty Victorian house and the plain, withdrawn child.

“What, darling?” Her voice sounded odd. She cleared her throat and helplessly twisted the crumpled telegram in her hand. “Bad news? Well…yes.”

Becky sighed. She was so old for six, Maggie sometimes thought. Her life had been disordered from the very beginning. An exclusive boarding school hadn't made her an extrovert; it had only emphasized her painful shyness, made it more obvious.

“Is it Daddy again?” Becky asked quietly. She read the answer in her mother's worried eyes and shrugged. “Well, Auntie Janet is coming today,” she said with childlike enthusiasm and smiled. “That should make you feel better.”

Margaret Turner smiled back. Her daughter's rare smiles were magic. “So she is, although she isn't really your aunt. She's my godmother. She and your Grandmother Turner were best friends. What a nice surprise for us, meeting her last week. She didn't even know I had you, you lovely little surprise, you.”

Becky giggled—one of those sweet sounds that Maggie had heard so seldom lately. The boarding school was taking its toll on Becky, but there'd been no choice about it once Maggie went to work. She had no one to keep Becky after school, and her job meant occasional long hours and Saturday work. That left the child vulnerable, and Dennis wasn't above taking her away and hiding her somewhere. He was capable of anything where money was involved. And this newest threat, this telegram, made it plain that he was going to sue for full custody of Rebecca. He wanted Maggie to know immediately that he'd just given his lawyer the green light to go back to court.

Maggie swept back a strand of her short dark hair, which was very straight, curving into her high cheekbones. She was slender and tall, a good silhouette for the clothes that were such a rage this season. Not that she was buying new clothes. Thanks to her ex-husband's incredible alimony suit against her—which he'd won—and the fact that her attorneys were still draining her financially, times were getting harder by the day.

About all that was left was this white elephant they lived in and a relatively new car—and Becky's trust. Maggie's own father had never approved of her marriage to Dennis, although—at the time—she hadn't understood why. He'd cut Maggie out of his will entirely, leaving everything in trust for Becky. Maggie hadn't known this until his death, and she'd never forget the outburst from Dennis at the reading of the will. Her heart already broken, his callous attitude had taken the last of her spirit. After that, she hadn't really felt alive at all. She'd kept going for Becky's sake, not her own.

Dennis had tried to break the will. It couldn't be broken, but there were loopholes that would allow the administrator of the trust to sell stocks and bonds and reinvest them. Maggie could imagine what Dennis would do with that kind of control; in no time he'd have reduced Becky to poverty, robbed her of her inheritance.

As it was, Maggie was working long hours in a bookstore to make ends meet. She loved books, and the job was nice. But being without her daughter wasn't. She prayed for the day when she could bring Becky home and not have to worry that Dennis might kidnap her if she was left with a sitter. It was a good thing that Maggie didn't have a social life. But even in the days when her family had been wealthy and she'd had every advantage, she'd never cared for socializing. She'd kept to herself and avoided the fast crowds. She'd been much like Becky as a child—shy and introverted. She still was.

“I won't have to live with Daddy, will I?” Becky asked suddenly, and the look in her big eyes was poignant.

“Oh, darling, of course you won't!” Maggie drew the spindly-legged child close to her, caressing the incredibly thick hair that trailed down her daughter's ramrod-stiff back. Becky was all she had in the world now, the most precious thing she had left; the only thing of worth to come from the six-year marriage that she'd finally garnered enough courage to end just months before. The instant the divorce had become final, she'd gone back to using her maiden name, Turner. She wanted nothing of Dennis in her life—not even his name.

“Never,” Maggie added absently. “You won't have to live with him.”

That might become a well-meant lie, she thought miserably as she cuddled her daughter, because Dennis was threatening to take Becky from her. They both knew that all he wanted was the mammoth trust Alvin Turner had set up for his grandchild before his death. Whoever had responsibility for Becky had access to that fortune. So far, Maggie had managed to keep the child out of her ex-husband's hands. He'd already announced his engagement to the woman he'd moved in with following the divorce, and Maggie's attorney was worried that Dennis might get the edge in a custody suit if he had a stable family life to offer little Rebecca.

Stability! If there was one thing Dennis Blaine didn't possess, it was stability. She should never have married him. She'd gone against her father's wishes, and against the advice of Aunt Janet. It had been a whirlwind courtship, and they'd made a handsome couple—the shy young debutante from San Antonio and the up-and-coming young salesman. Only after the wedding and her subsequent immediate pregnancy did Maggie learn that Dennis's main ambition was wealth, not a happy marriage. He liked women—and one wasn't enough. Barely three weeks after their wedding, he was having an affair with another woman, mostly as an act of vengeance against Maggie, who'd refused to stake him in a get-rich-quick scheme he'd concocted.

She sighed over her daughter's silky hair. Dennis, she'd discovered, had a vindictive nature, and it had grown worse as time passed. His affairs were legion. She'd tried to leave him, and he'd beaten her. It was the first and last time. She'd threatened to go to the police, with all the scandal that would have raised, and he'd promised in tears never to do it again. But there were other ways he'd been able to get back at her, especially after Becky came along. More than once he'd threatened to abduct the child and hide her if Maggie didn't go along with his demands for more money.

In the end, it had been because of Becky that she'd moved out and filed for divorce. Dennis had brought one of his ladyloves into the house and had been cavorting with her in bed when Becky had come home unexpectedly and found them. Dennis had threatened Becky, warning her not to tell what she'd seen. But Becky was spunky. She had told. And that very day, Maggie had moved with the child back to her old family home in San Antonio. Thank God her parents had held on to the house even after they'd moved to Austin.

Dennis, meanwhile, had cut his losses and stayed in Austin, where he and Maggie had lived together for the six years of their disastrous marriage. Once the divorce had become final, he'd initiated a grueling lawsuit—with Maggie's money, ironically enough—and had ultimately been granted visitation rights.

Well, she wasn't giving up her child to that money-grubbing opportunist. She said so, frequently. But Dennis's forthcoming remarriage could cause some devilish problems. She didn't quite know what to do, how to handle this new development.

“Couldn't we run away?” Becky asked as she drew back. “We could go live with Aunt Janet and her family, couldn't we? They own a real ranch, and Aunt Janet's so nice. She said after she visits us, we could visit her and ride horses—”

“I'm afraid we can't do that,” Maggie said quickly, forcing down the image of Gabriel Coleman that swam with sickening intensity before her eyes. He frightened her, colored her dreams, even though it had been years since she'd seen him. Even now, she could close her eyes, and there he was. Big, lean, rawhide tough. All man. Dennis wouldn't dare threaten her around Gabe, but Maggie was too frightened of him to ask for sanctuary. It was a well-known fact that Janet and her son didn't get along. Maggie had enough problems already without adding Gabe's antagonism to them. He didn't care for her. He thought of her as a bored socialite; he always had. She was prejudged and predamned in his pale eyes. She'd never stood a chance with him, even in her younger days. He hadn't given her a second look. Once, she'd wanted him to. But after Dennis, she'd had too many scars for another relationship. Especially with a man like Gabriel, who was so much a man.

“But why can't we?” Becky persisted, all eyes—green eyes, like her mother's.

“Because I have a job,” Maggie said absently, smoothing the long silky hair of the little girl. “Well, except for this month-long vacation I'm getting while Trudie is in Europe. She owns the shop, you see.” Trudie had decided that Maggie needed some time off, too, and she'd closed up shop despite the loss of cash. It was one of many reasons that Maggie loved her friend so much.

“Then can't we go home with Aunt Janet? Oh, can't we?” Becky pleaded, all but jumping up and down in her enthusiasm.

“No, and you mustn't ask her, either,” Maggie said shortly. “Anyway, you have one more week at school before vacation. You have to go back and finish out the semester.”

“Yes, Mama,” Becky sighed, giving in without a fight.

“Good girl. Suppose you dash out to the kitchen and remind Mary that we're to have an apple pie tonight in Aunt Janet's honor,” she added with a smile.

“Yes, Mama,” Becky agreed, brightening. She ran, skirts flying, out of the immaculate living room with its wing chairs and Chippendale sofa—beautiful relics of a more graceful age—down the long hall toward the spacious kitchen.

The house had been in Maggie's family for eighty years or more. It was here that she and Dennis had spent an occasional weekend with her mother after her father's death from a heart attack, but she didn't mind the memories as much as she would have minded losing the home place. She touched the arm of the sofa lovingly. Her mother had sat here in happier days, doing embroidery, while her father had sprawled in the big armchair on his visits home—and they'd been few, those last years, because as an ambassador his duty had kept him away.

Maggie's mother had traveled with him until ill health had forced her to remain in Texas. She'd died within six months of her tragic loss, swiftly following the husband she'd adored. Maggie often thought that such love was a rare thing. Certainly she hadn't found it in her marriage. She wondered if she ever would find it. She was much too frightened to take the chance a second time; the risk, to Becky, was even greater than the risk to herself.

She studied her slender hands quietly, drinking in the subtle scent of lavender that clung like dust to the old furniture. A knock on the door disturbed her thoughts, then the knob twisted and Janet Coleman breezed in.

“Darling! Oh, it's so hot outside! Why I keep an apartment in San Antonio I don't know, when I could have one someplace cold.”

Like a white-haired whirlwind, Janet embraced the younger, taller woman with a deep sigh.

“You must love the city. You've had that apartment ever since I can remember.” Maggie smiled, drawing back to stare down at the older woman in the chic gray suit.

“I've got my nerve, haven't I, inviting myself for dinner.” Janet laughed. “But I couldn't resist it. It's been so many years, and to run into you out of the blue in that department store! Shocking, to think I didn't even know about Becky! And here you'd been married for six years, and getting a divorce…” She shook her head. “I miss your mother so much. I have no one to talk to these days, with the girls away from home and Gabe so business oriented. And,” she added quietly, “I'm hardly ever at the ranch these days myself. I've been in Europe for the past seven months.”

Maggie had gone to boarding school with the girls, Audrey and Robin—the same school, in fact, that Becky was in now.

“Audrey is living with a man in Chicago,” Janet said, exasperated. She flushed a little at Maggie's pointed stare. “Yes, that's what I said. Isn't it outrageous? I know it's the in thing to do these days, but honestly, Maggie, I had to stop Gabriel from getting the next train up there. He was all for putting a bullet in the man. You know Gabe.”

Maggie nodded. Yes, that was Gabe all right. His answer to most things was physical. She trembled a little with inner reaction to him—a reaction that had always been there, but one she'd never really understood.

“I talked him out of it, but he's still simmering.” She shuddered delicately. “I just hope Audrey has the good sense to stay away until he cools down. He'd have them married at gunpoint.”

“Yes, I don't doubt it. How's Robin?” she added with a smile, because she liked Janet's younger daughter.

“She's still trying to be an oil rigger.” Janet shook her head. “She says it's what she wants to do.”

“Times have changed, Janet.” Maggie laughed. “Women are taking over the world.”

“Please don't say that in front of Gabe,” the older woman murmured dryly. “He doesn't like the modern world.”

“Neither do I, at times.” Maggie sighed. She stared at Janet. “Is he still ranching?”

“With a vengeance. It's roundup time, darling.” Janet laughed. “He doesn't speak to anyone for days during roundup. He's hardly even home anymore. He has board meetings and buying trips and selling trips and seminars, and he sits on the boards of God knows how many corporations and colleges and banks…Even when I'm home, he never listens to me.”

“Does he know about Becky and me?” she wondered aloud.

“I've mentioned your mother over the years,” Janet said. “But no, I don't suppose I've had a lot to say about you. He's so touchy when I mention women, I've given up trying. I did find this lovely girl and I brought her out to the ranch to meet him.” Janet flushed. “It was terrible.” She shook her head. “Since then, I've decided that it's better if I let him lead his own life. So I don't mention anybody to him. Especially eligible women,” she added with a pert laugh.

Maggie shook her head. “Well, he'd never have to worry about me. I'm off men for life!”

“I can understand why,” Janet muttered. “I never liked that man. He smiled too much.”

This from a woman whose son was a caveman…. But Maggie wasn't going to remark on that. She had no use at all for that kind of man. She'd had enough of being afraid and dominated and intimidated. No man was ever going to get the chance to do to her what Dennis had. Not ever again.

“If only Gabe would get married,” Janet said. And there was such bitter remorse in her voice. “He never had the chance to do the things most young men do. I feel responsible for that, sometimes.” The remorse in the tired old voice made Maggie feel sympathetic.

She knew about Janet's family, of course. Janet and her own mother had been best friends for years, and Maggie had learned things about the other family, especially the one son, that she wished she could forget. Janet's girls had been spoiled rotten by two doting parents, and that hadn't helped. After Jonathan Coleman's death, Audrey had run wild and Robin had gone off to college. Gabe was left at the head of the massive ranch holding—with no help at all from his family, none of whom knew anything about business.

Gabe had shouldered the burden, though, and that strong back had never bent in all the years since. Maggie had always admired his strength. He was unique. A pioneer with a rugged spirit and a savage determination to persevere.

“Here's my Becky,” Janet gushed, opening her arms to the little girl, who darted into them with unabashed affection.

“Oh, Auntie Janet, I'm so glad you came,” Becky enthused. Becky had taken instantly to the older woman during that chance meeting, and when she'd learned that Maggie was Janet's goddaughter, she'd “adopted” herself as Janet's niece. Maggie hadn't fussed, and Janet had been delighted. The poor child had no other living relatives, except her terror of a father.

Becky hugged the old lady tightly, her eyes closed. She drew back a long minute later. “My daddy is trying to make me come and live with him, and I told Mama we should run away, but she won't.”

Janet darted a searching glance at Maggie, who was standing red-faced in the center of the kitchen while old Mary gaped briefly at the small group before ambling back to her tea cakes and silverware. Mary had been with the family since Maggie was a child. She didn't work for them full-time anymore but only came in when she needed a little extra money—and Maggie often worked overtime to provide that money, to help the woman who'd been so much a part of her childhood.

“So that's still going on, is it?” Janet asked haughtily. “Really, dear, you should let me ask Gabriel to speak to Dennis. He wouldn't mind.”

Maggie could just imagine Gabriel doing anything for her. It was whimsical. She shrugged. “My attorneys are handling it, but thank you for the offer.”

“I feel guilty. I've lost touch with you all since you moved to Austin,” Janet said. “If it hadn't been for our chance meeting downtown, I wouldn't have invited myself to visit you.”

“You know you're always welcome here,” Maggie chided.

Janet searched her face quietly. “I've been away too long, haven't I, dear? I should have been keeping an auntly eye on you.” She shook her head. “I lose track of things these days. Absentmindedness, I suppose. I remembered after I ran into you that I hadn't ever mentioned your marriage to the girls. That's how terrible I am.”

“We haven't seen each other in a long time,” Maggie reminded her with a smile. “But it's so nice to have you here.” She led Janet into the dining room, where the older woman sat down at the cherrywood table, fanning herself with her hand.

“Darling, it's so hot, even for spring. How ever do you stand it?”

“I'll get you a fan,” Becky volunteered, and opened the buffet drawer, pulling out a large wooden fan with a beautiful spring scene on one side and the name of a local funeral parlor in huge black letters on the other.

Janet smiled appreciatively at her and began to fan herself furiously. “If you only had air conditioning.” She shook her head. “We had to put it in two years ago. The heat is getting more unbearable every year.”

Becky seated herself primly in a chair beside Janet while Mary bustled around serving tea cakes and steaming cups of freshly brewed tea. Afterward, Becky was sent out to play and Mary went into the kitchen to finish dinner and watch the little girl out the back window.

“Now,” Janet said firmly, transfixing Maggie with those piercing light eyes. “Let's hear it all.”

Maggie knew she had no choice, so she told her godmother everything. It felt good to get it off her chest. It had been so long since she'd had anybody she could talk to.

Janet listened, only occasionally asking questions. When Maggie had finished, she stared into her teacup for a minute, then spoke. “Come home with me,” she said, looking up. “You need a little time away, to think things through. The ranch is the perfect refuge—and the one place Dennis won't come looking for you.”

That was true enough. Dennis, like Maggie, had heard plenty about Gabriel Coleman, and Dennis wasn't suicidal.

“But what about Becky?” Maggie asked. “I can't take her out of school now….”

“We'll come back for her week after next,” Janet assured her. “She's in boarding school, darling. They won't let Dennis have her without a court order. She'll be safe.”

Maggie fingered her cup with a sigh. It sounded like heaven—to get away from the city, to be able to think in placid surroundings. If only it weren't for Gabriel…

Memories of him had colored her young life for years. He was stamped permanently on her thoughts like an indelible ink. She knew so much about him. Like the time he'd forced some rustlers off the road into a ditch and held the three men with a shotgun until one of his hands got the sheriff there. Then there was the knockdown-drag-out fight with one of his men right in the street.

Maggie had actually witnessed that. Sometimes she wondered if it hadn't happened because of her. She'd been spending a couple of weeks with his sisters at the ranch when she was about sixteen. They'd gone into town with Janet to shop, driven by one of the hands, a new man with too-interested eyes and a way of talking to the young girls that amused Robin and Audrey but terrified Maggie. Gabe had been at the hardware store, right next door to the grocery store where Janet shopped. And when the girls had come out, the new man had put his hand on Maggie's waist and insolently let it drop to her hip in a blatant caress.

Gabe had moved over a rack of shovels with alarming speed, and his powerful fists had made a shuddering mess of the new cowhand. Gabe had fired him on the spot, oblivious to the fascinated stares of passersby, and in language that had colored Maggie's face a bright red.