by Linda Howard
The fuel pump had gone bad. The time it took to obtain and install a new one made it past midnight before they were finally in the air. Rather than wake everyone at the ranch by landing, Glenn took the plane back to its hangar and drove her home. After he had kissed her casually on the cheek and left her at the door, she took off her shoes like a kid sneaking in late from a date and tiptoed through the dark house, avoiding the places in the old floor that she knew would creak.
As she tiptoed past Rule’s door she noticed the thin line of light beneath it and hesitated. He couldn’t reach the lamp to turn it off. If everyone had gone to bed without turning the lamp off for him it would burn all night. Not that there was much left of the night, she thought in wry amusement. Why not just admit that she wanted to look at him? It had been roughly thirty-six hours since she had seen him, and suddenly that was far too long. Like any drug addict, she needed her fix.
Moving slowly, cautiously, she opened his door and peeped in. At least he was lying down, so someone had remembered to help him from his propped-up position. His eyes were closed and his broad, heavily muscled chest rose and fell evenly.
A hot little quiver ran through her and rattled her composure. God, he looked so good! His silky dark hair was tousled, his jaw darkened with stubble; one powerful arm was thrown up beside his head, his long-fingered hand relaxed. Her gaze wandered down the sheen of his bronzed shoulders, stopped at the virile growth of dark hair that covered his chest and ran down his abdomen, then fought free to linger on the naked expanse of muscled thigh that was visible. He had the sheet pulled up to just below his navel, but his left leg was completely uncovered, the heavy cast propped on the pile of pillows for support.
Trembling in appreciation of his male beauty, she walked silently to the bed and leaned down to feel for the switch on the lamp. She made no noise at all, she was certain of it, yet abruptly his right arm snapped out and his fingers clamped around her wrist. His dark eyes flared open and he stared at her for several seconds before the feral gleam in the dark depths faded. “Cat,” he muttered.
He had been sound asleep. She would have sworn to it. But his instincts were still honed to battle pitch, aware of any change in his surroundings, any other presence, and his body had acted even before he was awake. She watched him as the jungle faded from his mind and he recalled his present location. His look of hard savagery changed to one of narrow-eyed anger. The pressure of his fingers lessened, but not enough to allow her to pull away. Instead he drew her to him, bending her over the bed in an awkward position, holding her by the strength of his arm.
“I told you to stay away from Glenn Lacey,” he snarled softly, holding her so closely that his breath heated her cheek.
Who had told him? she wondered bleakly. Anyone could have. The entire ranch must have seen Glenn arrive to pick her up. “I’d forgotten that I’d made a date with him,” she confessed, keeping her voice low. “When he called, he already had tickets to the ball game in Houston and I just couldn’t turn him down after he’d gone to so much trouble. He’s a nice man.”
“I don’t care if he’s the next American saint,” Rule replied, still in the same tone of soft, silky menace. “I told you that I won’t have you going out with other men and I meant it.”
“It was just this once, and besides, you don’t own me!”
“You think so? You’re mine, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you.”
She gave him a guarded, painful look. “Would you?” she murmured, afraid that she knew all too well what his reaction would be if she sold the ranch. He would hate her. He’d drop her so fast that she’d never recover from the devastation of it.
“Push me and find out,” he invited. “That’s what you’ve been doing anyway. Pushing me, trying to find the limits of the invisible chain that’s around your pretty little neck. Well, honey, you’ve reached it!”
The pressure on her arm resumed and he pulled her closer. Cathryn braced her left arm on the bed and tried to pull away, but even flat on his back he was still far stronger than she was. She gave a soft cry as her arm gave way and she sprawled across him, trying frantically to keep from jarring him or knocking against his broken leg.
He released her arm and thrust his hand into her hair, tangling his fingers in the long silky length of it and forcing her head down. “Rule! Stop it!” she wailed, an instant before his mouth clung to hers.
She tried to refuse his kiss, tried to keep her teeth clenched and her lips firmly together. She failed in both. Without hurting her, he caught her jaw and applied just enough pressure to open her mouth to him, and his tongue moved past the barrier of her teeth, licking little fires into life everywhere it touched. Dazed, she felt the strength leave her body and she sank limply against him.
He kissed her so long and so hard that she knew her lips would be swollen and bruised the next day, but at the time all she was aware of was the intoxicating taste of him, the sensual thrust of his tongue, the stinging little bites that he used as both punishment and reward, stringing them from her mouth down her throat and over her sensitive collarbone to the soft curve of her shoulder. It was only then that she realized he had unbuttoned the front of her dress and pulled it open, and she moaned in her throat. “Rule…stop it! You can’t….”
Carefully he let his head fall back on the pillow but he didn’t release her. His hand shoved under the cup of her bra and he nestled her breast in his hot palm. “No, I can’t, but you can,” he murmured.
“No…your head…your leg,” she protested incoherently, closing her eyes against the heated delight that coursed through her veins as he continued to fondle her.
“My head and my leg aren’t bothering me right now.” He pulled her closer and began kissing her again, insisting on the response that he knew she was capable of. The thrusting depth of his kisses made her head spin, and she sank against him once more.
He tugged at the straps of the bra until they came free; then he reached behind her and deftly unsnapped the back strap, freeing her breasts completely. Cathryn whispered a choked, “Please,” not even knowing herself if she was begging him to stop or continue. She shuddered wildly when his hand swept up under her skirt and caressed her with bold aggression, and though she kept mindlessly whispering her mingled protests and pleas, she was clinging to him with all the strength in her arms.
He groaned harshly and tugged her leg over his hips, pulling her into position. Sudden tears dampened her cheeks, though she hadn’t been aware that she was crying. “I don’t want to hurt you,” she sobbed.
“You won’t,” he crooned. “Please, honey, make love to me. I need you so much! Can’t you feel how I ache for you?”
At some point during those bold, intimate caresses he had removed her panties, impatiently tossing away the silken barrier that kept him from the secrets of her body. His hands guided her slowly, easing her down until they were fully joined.
It was so sweet and wild that she almost cried out, stifling the sound in her throat at the last moment. With every fiber of her body she was aware of the particular sexiness of a man who lay back and let a woman enjoy his body, let her set the tempo of their loving. It was all the more enticing because Rule was so compellingly masculine, his power undiminished by his injuries. She loved him, loved him with her heart and soul and the undulating magic of her body. With exquisite tenderness she took what he offered and returned it to him tenfold, presenting him with the gift of her soaring pleasure and returning to earth to savor his writhing response as he too was pleasured.
She was lying on his chest in drowsy completion, her half-closed eyes moving idly over the room, when she saw the open door and stiffened. “Rule,” she moaned in mortification. “I didn’t close the door!”
“Then close it now,” he instructed softly. “From the inside. I’m not finished with you, honey.”
“You need to sleep….”
“It’s almost dawn,” he pointed out. “We seem to do all our loving in the early morning hours.
And I’ve done nothing but sleep for a week. We need to talk, and now’s as good a time as any.”
That was true, and she was loath to leave him anyway. She eased out of the bed, careful not to jostle him any more than she already had, and closed the door, locking it for good measure. It would be just like Ricky to come bursting in in the morning, knowing that Cathryn was with him. Then she slipped out of her dress, poor covering that it was, considering that he had dropped the top of it to her waist and lifted the skirt to the same level. Naked, she climbed under the sheet with him and pressed against his side, almost drunk with the pleasure of lying beside him once more. She nuzzled her face into the hollow of his shoulder and inhaled the heady male scent of him. She was so relaxed, so replete…
“Cat,” he murmured into her hair, feeling the way she lay against him. She didn’t answer. A sigh of raw frustration escaped him as he realized that she was asleep; then he curved her slender body more tightly against him and pressed a kiss into the tumble of dark red hair that streamed across his shoulder.
When Cathryn woke several hours later, roused by a pain in her arm caused by the fact that she had been resting all her weight on it, Rule was asleep. Cautiously she raised her head and studied him, seeing how pale and tired he looked, even in sleep. Their lovemaking had been sweet and urgent, but he hadn’t really been well enough. She eased away from him and stood up, massaging her arm to restore circulation to it. A thousand tiny pins pricked her skin and she hugged the arm to her until the worst of it had passed; then she silently pulled on her dress and picked up the remainder of her clothing, slipping out before he woke.
She was tired. Those few hours of sleep hadn’t been nearly enough, but she showered and dressed for the day’s chores. Lorna smiled at her when she entered the kitchen. “I thought you’d give it a rest today,” she clucked.
“Did Rule ever give it a rest?” asked Cathryn wryly.
“Rule’s a lot stronger than you are. We’ll get by; the ranch is too well run to fall apart in a couple of weeks. How about waffles for breakfast? I’ve already got the batter mixed.”
“That’ll be fine,” Cathryn replied, pouring a cup of coffee for herself. She leaned against the cabinet and sipped it, feeling the weariness weighing her limbs down like lead weights.
“Mr. Morris has called twice already,” Lorna said casually, and Cathryn’s head jerked up. She had almost spilled her coffee and she set the cup down.
“I don’t like that man!” she said fretfully. “Why doesn’t he leave me alone?”
“Does that mean you’re not going to sell the ranch to him?”
Nothing was private, Cathryn realized, rubbing her forehead absently. No doubt everyone on the ranch knew that Mr. Morris had offered to buy the ranch. And no doubt everyone also knew whose bed she had woken up in that morning! It was like living in a fishbowl.
“In a way I’m tempted,” she sighed. “But then again…”
Lorna deftly poured the batter into the waffle iron. “I don’t know what Rule would do if you sold the ranch. He couldn’t work for Mr. Morris, I don’t think. So much of his life is tied up with this place.”
Cathryn felt every muscle in her body tense at Lorna’s words. She knew that. She had always known it. She might own the Bar D, but she was only a figurehead. It belonged to Rule, and he belonged to it, and that was far more important than what was recorded on any deed. He had paid for it in his own way, with his time and sweat and blood. If she sold it he would hate her.
“I can’t think,” she said tensely. “There are so many things pulling me in different directions.”
“Then don’t do anything,” Lorna advised. “At least until things have settled down some. You’re under a lot of pressure right now. Just wait a while; in three weeks your outlook could be completely different.”
Lorna’s common-sense advice was only what Cathryn had told herself many times, and she realized all over again that it really was sensible. She sat down and ate her waffle, and surprisingly the few minutes of quiet made her feel better.
“Cat!”
The low, compelling call wafted down from upstairs and immediately she was tense again. Lord, she was almost terrified at the thought of talking to him! It doesn’t make sense, she told herself sternly. She had just slept in his arms; why should she dread talking to him so much?
Because she was afraid that she wouldn’t be able to prevent herself from throwing herself in his arms and promising to do anything he asked, that was why! If he asked her to marry him again she’d probably melt against him like an idiot and agree without thinking, completely disregarding the fact that he had never said anything about love, only about his plans.
“Cat!” This time she thought she could discern a tautness in his voice and she found herself on her feet, automatically responding to it.
When she opened his door he was lying with his eyes closed, his lips pale. “I knew it was too soon!” she cried softly, placing a cool hand on his forehead. His dark eyes opened and he gave her a tight smile.
“It seems you’re right,” he grunted. “God, my head feels like it’s going to explode! Fill up the icepack, okay?”
“I’ll bring it right up,” she promised, smoothing his hair with her fingertips. “Do you feel like eating anything?”
“Not just yet. Something cool to drink will do fine, and turn on the air-conditioner.” As she turned away to do his bidding, he said evenly, “Cat…”
She turned back to him and raised her eyebrows inquiringly. He said, “About Glenn Lacey…”
She flushed. “I told you, he’s just a friend. There’s nothing between us, and I won’t be going out with him again.”
“I know. I realized that last night when I saw that you were wearing a bra.”
He was looking at her from beneath half-closed lids, stripping her, and the flush on her cheeks grew hotter. She didn’t need him to finish the thought, but he did anyway. “If you had been with me, you wouldn’t have been wearing a bra, would you?” he asked huskily.
Her voice was weak as she admitted huskily, “No.”
Again the corners of his mouth moved in a little smile. “I didn’t think so. Go get that drink for me, honey. I’m not in any shape for provocative conversation right now.”
She couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped her lips as she left the room. How like him to put her on the defensive, then reveal that he had attacked with nothing more dangerous in his armory than a smile and a sensual remark. He was more than she could handle, and abruptly she realized that she didn’t want to handle him. He was his own man, not something to be controlled. Nor did he really try to handle her. Sometimes she felt, oddly, that he was a little wary of her, but he didn’t usually tell her if she could or couldn’t do something. Except in the case of Glenn Lacey, she thought, smiling. And even then she had done as she had wanted. In her case, her red hair was a signal of stubbornness as well as temper.
Rule didn’t feel well enough to start any deep conversations, for which she was grateful. She tended to him and got him settled after he had downed a glass of iced tea; with an icepack easing his headache, he lay quietly and watched her as she straightened the room. “Lewis told me about the other night,” he murmured. “He said that you helped Andalusia by yourself. Did you have any trouble?”
“No, the mare knew just what to do.”
“She’s a good little mother,” he said sleepily. “It was too bad about the other foal. We had a set of twins survive a few years ago, but it was a chancy thing. The smaller foal never did catch up to its twin in size or strength, but she was a sweet little horse. She was so small that I was afraid it would kill her if I tried breeding her to any of the other horses, so I sold her to a family who wanted a gentle horse for their kids.”
Cathryn felt guilty for not checking on the other mare’s well-being, and she said hesitantly, “Did…has Lewis said anything about Sable? How she’s doing?”
“She’s fine. Have you seen the foal?”
“Not since she was born. She’s a strong little thing, tall and frisky. She was on her feet almost right away.”
“Her sire is Irish Gale. Looks like he’s turning out fast fillies instead of colts. Too bad about that; most fillies can’t run with the boys, even when they’re fast.”
“What about Ruffian?” demanded Cathryn, indignant on behalf of the fillies. “And a filly won the Derby not so many years ago, smarty.”
“Sweetheart, even in the Olympics the women don’t run with the men, and the same goes for horses…except in special, isolated cases,” he conceded. His eyes slowly closed, and he muttered, “I need to get up. There’s a lot to be done.”
She started to assure him that everything was under control but realized that he had slipped into a light doze, and she didn’t want to disturb him. She had noticed that sleep was the best remedy for his headaches. Let him rest while he still would. Soon, probably too soon, he would be forcing his body to do his bidding. That was the first time in days that he had mentioned getting up, but she knew it wouldn’t be the last.
When she stepped outside, the heat slammed into her like a blow to the body. It probably wasn’t any hotter than it had been before, but in her fatigue she felt it more intensely. It wasn’t just the scorching rays of the sun. It was the heat that rose in shimmering waves from the earth and slapped her in the face. It had been this hot that July when Rule had— Forget about that, she told herself sternly. She had work to do. She had shirked her duty yesterday, and today she was determined to make up for it.
She stopped in at the foaling barn to check on the two new mothers and their foals. Floyd assured her that Sable was in good condition after her ordeal, then invited her to help him anytime he had a mare in foal. Cathryn looked at him doubtfully and he laughed.
“You did just fine with Andalusia, Miss Cathryn,” he assured her.
“Andalusia did just fine,” she corrected, laughing. “By the way, do you know what direction Lewis went in this morning?”