"Couldn't ask for a better partner on a trail drive or a better foreman for this spread," he replied.
"You've known him a long time?"
Will thought back. '"Bout eighteen years, I recollect."
"I wonder…" Her words trailed off.
"What?"
"Nothing. None of my business."
"Were you wondering why he'd want to work for me?"
She turned her head quickly to look at Will over her shoulder. "Of course not. Why would I wonder that?"
He shrugged.
"This is a good place to work and to live," she said. Then a minute later she confessed, "I was wondering why he didn't have a wife and family."
Will didn't have a wife and family either, but she hadn't asked him. Maybe she thought she knew why—because he was too cantankerous. "Can't answer that one," he replied.
Roy had fallen in love with a woman years ago, but had backed away in order for her to marry someone with more money and position. Will had been acutely aware of the situation, but it had never been discussed between them again. Roy had seemed to shrug it off and move on.
"I guess you were busy working and saving to start this ranch," she said as though thinking aloud.
The conversation was getting around to him.
She glanced up again. "I know there aren't many single women in these parts, but did you ever think about a mail-order bride? Maybe someone your sister knows?"
Will placed his coffee on the rail before moving down a few steps to sit beside her. He propped both arms on his knees. "I thought about it."
"Didn't appeal to you?"
"Think I would have appealed to one of them?" he asked in a self-derisive tone.
She shrugged noncommittally. "There's worse places, worse people to be married to."
She had started asking questions, so she couldn't say he'd begun the prying. He had a dozen things he'd like to know. "And you would know about them?"
"Some of them."
"Like your husband?"
She nodded silently, not offering any information.
"Why did you marry him?"
She looked away so he couldn't see her face. "I didn't have any choice."
As desperate for a place to live and a job as she'd been when she came here? Pregnant? Not this baby, but another one perhaps… No, she was too young, too ignorant of childbearing. A bargain of some sort maybe.
Will thought back over her reactions to him and her reaction to Nash the day he'd swatted at the bee. "Did he hit you?"
Still looking away, she nodded.
The thought of a man, so much bigger and stronger than this tiny woman, abusing her in such a way, sickened him. The coffee settling in his stomach burned.
"Did you love him?" Will couldn't believe he'd asked that question! Even his ears burned with embarrassment. He opened his mouth to tell her not to mind him, but she replied first.
"No," she said, turning to look at him finally.
Why had he cared? Why was he immeasurably relieved to hear her say that simple word? He should have left well enough alone.
She wasn't grieving for a beloved husband.
A dozen more questions whirled in his head. Why had she married him? What had happened to him? Why had she been forced to seek work here? Where was her family?
"The closest thing I know to love is what I feel for my baby," she said softly, placing her hand on her round belly. "I love him even though I've never seen him. And he's…" Her voice broke and she swallowed. "He's going to love me, too."
Helpless to comment, Will nodded dumbly.
Crickets chirped from their hiding places at the corner of the house and the nearby bushes. A horse in the corral nickered and another neighed in reply. Farther away, an owl hooted.
"Would you like to feel him again?" she asked.
Her offer surprised Will. He had been fascinated by the feel of her belly against his midsection as they danced. "You wouldn't mind?"
"No. Put your hands here." She placed her own on the left side of her stomach.
Will started to move in front of her on the steps, and then changed his mind and instead sat behind her, placing one leg on either side of her so her back was against him, and wrapped his arms around her to reach where she indicated.
She took his hands and placed them on the hard mound of her belly, and the firmness amazed him. An infant so large and solid inside her was incredible. Her skin through the fabric of her dress was warm and her hair still smelled fresh and feminine. He could have wrapped his arms around her twice, she was so small.
A tiny fluttering grazed his palm. Another. A moment later a series of kicks were aimed at his wrist and he moved his hand over them, Linnea's baby thrived, safe and nourished by her body for the time being. What would happen after he was born? When she would need to spend her time taking care of him and be unable to work?
Will had promised she could stay until then, but warned her she would have to leave. He'd been eager to be rid of her since the moment he'd laid eyes on her. He'd deemed her inappropriate for the job, but she'd proved him wrong. He'd thought she'd fold under the workload, but she had held her own.
Maybe he was wrong about her being able to care for a baby and stay here, too. He'd never been so uncertain of himself and his judgment until she'd shown up, and he didn't like the feeling.
But the other feelings…the ones that caught him unexpectedly when she was near…when he touched her… when she looked at him or said his name… those feelings he regretfully liked.
Her hands still covered the backs of his, her arms rested along the length of his, and she had leaned her shoulders back to relax against him. The way he sat straddling her brought her back into contact with his groin and her hips against his thighs. He grew more aware of her body against his than the movement beneath his hands.
Her apparent ease with the intimate contact pleased him, adding to his rising ardor, and he struggled with guilt over holding and desiring a woman he planned to send away.
She turned her face up toward his, an innocent invitation if ever there was one, and smiled hesitantly.
Will surrendered to the temptation and the desire, lowering his head, and kissing her full on the lips.
Chapter Nineteen
Will savored every moment of kissing Linnea's warm moist lips, plying them with firm gentle pressure. He took his hands from her belly so he could move to her left side and better align their mouths. With one hand he held her shoulder, and with the other he cupped her fragile jaw, slowly ran a finger along the silky skin to her chin…her cheek.
Her breathing was shallow and warm, and she raised a hand to grasp the front of his shirt, as though holding him in place.
After caressing her cheek, then her jawbone, he fingered a silky curl at her ear and dared to slip his forefinger inside the collar of her dress and draw a line along her collarbone. Lord, she tempted him to touch her, to hold her close and feel her soft body against his. Because he sensed her timid reactions, he used all the restraint he could muster to keep his caresses sweet and unthreatening.
He nibbled on her top lip, then the bottom one, then darted his tongue along the crevice. With utmost delicacy, he traced a line of kisses across her chin and to her jaw, then gently nibbled on her earlobe.
Linnea sucked in a quick breath as though startled, but her grasp on his shirt held fast. "What are you doing?" she asked in a weak whisper.
He kissed the silken skin behind her ear, inhaled the heady fragrance of her, nuzzled his nose to her neck and opened his mouth to sample her flesh. "Tasting you," he said between kisses.
A shiver ran through her body.
Linnea raised her hand to the side of his head, threading her fingers into his hair. His scalp prickled with the delightful sensation her touch created. The fact that she hadn't pulled away, but rather touched him in return filled him with exultation.
He raised his head, and she pressed her cheek to his, her breath catching against his ear and se
nding fire through his veins.
Will pulled back to look into her eyes and run his thumb over her moist velvety lips. From her naive reactions of surprised pleasure, he could think she'd never been kissed before. Her dazed expression was illuminated in the light from the doorway, and her expression was one of discovery. "Did you like it?"
She nodded.
With the pads of his thumb and forefinger he rubbed her earlobe, then moved in to kiss and taste it again.
"What do I taste like?" she asked.
He plucked kisses against her neck, her jaw, up to her temple. There weren't words to describe the delicacy that was Linnea. He brought his nose to hers and replied simply, "More."
"How much more could there be?" she asked.
Her question confounded him. There was plenty more that he could think of. She wasn't one to tease, so was she asking a sincere question? "How much more would you like there to be?'' he asked.
She shook her head slightly, which rubbed her nose against his. "I don't know. But I don't want to stop feeling this way."
"I want to touch your hair," he said, daring to hope.
"You do?"
"I really do."
"Okay." She reached upward.
"No," he said, stopping her hand. "I want to do it."
"Okay," she said again.
To prolong the anticipation, he slowly and deliberately searched along her thick braid for the pins that held it in place. After he'd removed them one by one, her braid loosened and dropped to her back.
Will found the end and unbound the strip of cloth that held the rope in place, then began threading his fingers through the ends, higher and higher, loosening strands until her hair fell in luxurious ripples across her back and shoulders.
Her head had dropped back and her eyes were closed in an expression of sheer ecstasy. Will delved his hands into the cool silken mass of hair and massaged her scalp.
A throaty moan escaped her, fueling his lusty desires. He pressed a kiss to her exposed neck. "You're hair is beautiful," he said, his voice hoarse with desire.
She raised her head to look at him. "It is?"
"And it feels like silk."
"It's just… hair."
"No. It's shining mahogany that catches firelight and glows from within."
A nervous laugh escaped her. "You're talking about my hair."
"Yes."
She shook her head as though dazed. She looked so different with it loose, so natural, so…sensual. Every muscle in his lower body tensed.
He stroked her shoulder through the mass of hair. "I noticed right off. That first night when I was taking you back to Denver, and you brushed out your hair beside the fire."
"You did?"
He nodded, wondering if he'd revealed too much about himself with that confession. But a woman should know she had beautiful hair—and how it affected a man. Where had playing his cards close to his chest gotten him until now, anyway? "I heard you crying," he blurted.
She grew very still.
Obviously his arousal had dulled his brain and loosened his tongue.
"So you did feel sorry for me," she said softly.
"More likely I felt like a heel for barking at you. I mean, you didn't exactly deceive me about your age and your… Well, the fact that you're small. I just assumed that bein' a widow, you'd be older."
She faced forward, leaving him to study her profile, and said nothing. A ball of anxiety knotted in his belly.
"I figured you'd lost your husband and were hurting, that's all."
"It's late," was all she said.
"You're probably tired."
She stood, escaping his touch. "Yes."
He watched her in the moonlight, self-consciously pushing her hair over her shoulder. Whatever he'd said wrong had made her uncomfortable and torn down the bridge he'd so patiently constructed between them.
"I had a wonderful time today," she said, then added, "…and tonight. Thank you for everything. The dancing."
"My pleasure," he replied, and nothing had ever been so true. The time they'd spent together had been indescribable pleasure.
Standing, he wanted to ask her if the kissing had been wonderful, too, an idiotic male urge for validation, but he held his tongue for the first time that night. "Good night, Linnea."
"Good night." She climbed the steps and pulled open the screen door with a squeak.
The euphoria of kissing her mixed with the reality of their situation, her glaring misgivings and the knowledge that she would inevitably be leaving in a month or so. A feeling of emptiness and yearning gaped in his chest.
After walking away from the house, Will turned and studied the light behind the curtains at her window. He'd drunk enough to loosen him up and enough to loosen his tongue, maybe, but not so much that he wasn't thinking clearly. Linnea had changed everything. His life was not the same since she'd arrived at the Double T.
Driving himself and his men from sunup to sundown hadn't been all that satisfying, now that he looked back. Staying angry hadn't provided a hell of a lot of comfort. There had been more missing in his life than he'd ever wanted to admit.
A shadow moved behind the illuminated shade. Will caught himself staring and looked away. He couldn't watch her window and imagine her undressing or washing or going to bed, or he'd work himself into a state and would never sleep. He turned away and sauntered to the corral, where he leaned on the fence and clucked to the whiskey-colored stallion.
The animal lifted its head and whinnied in reply.
Will smiled to himself. Two months ago, the horse would have reared and run to the far side of the corral, but tonight the magnificent animal stood with its nostrils flaring in the moonlight to catch Will's scent. The horse didn't trot over to greet him and have his poll rubbed…but Will had confidence that eventually it would. Trust. Familiarity.
A glance at the window showed him she'd gone to bed.
He'd ridden herds and worked cows for ten years to afford this spread. It had been his dream, his ambition, his destination. He'd been so driven he hadn't taken time for anything else, and now he recognized the things that were missing.
Family had never been a priority. Getting free of the mill and his father's demands had been his initial goal. He wouldn't feel guilty for not wanting the life his father demanded of him, nor would he feel bad about hightailing it out when he could.
If his father had been more understanding, they might have held on to some kind of relationship.
Will vowed again he would never place a son of if his son wanted to be a city banker or a goat herder on a mountaintop, he would give him his blessing.
At the same time he had those thoughts—and he'd had them plenty—the nagging question arose: Where would that son come from?
There'd be time, he'd told himself. Time to find a woman who didn't drive him crazy and time to have children.
He'd been on the ranch only over a year now, and just as there'd never been time before, there seemed to never be time now. And even if there was time, where would he meet a woman? Would he be desperate enough to advertise for a wife? He'd seen how well that had worked out with a cook.
The stallion took a few steps toward him. Will spoke softly to let the animal know he was paying attention.
Well, hell, the cook hadn't worked out all that badly. Not bad at all, except for the fact that she would be leaving after the baby came. The thought gnawed an ache in his chest.
A soft nicker and a few more steps brought the horse within six yards of the fence where Will stood.
Days weren't suddenly going to multiply. Hell would freeze over before suitable women threw themselves at his feet, begging to be his wife. If change was going to come about, he was going to have to make it happen.
Linnea. This insane thinking was all about Linnea. His mind was skirting around the fact that the woman had broken down his barriers and made him think about something other than the day's chores, the coming year, the carefully laid plans for his ranc
h…
She'd made him think about her.
About them together.
About a life that included more than day-to-day existence and proving to himself that his dreams were important.
But she was a widow about to give birth to another man's baby, his logical mind argued.
Somehow that didn't matter to his heart. He wondered like hell about the man to whom she'd been married, the man who didn't want her to read and had most likely scared her off men. He had a feeling that if he'd ever met McConaughy before he'd died, he'd have had to pound him into the ground.
And the baby? The baby was a part of Linnea, a sweet innocent bonus thrown into the mix. At first he'd thought she wouldn't be able to survive on the ranch, as incapable and delicate as she appeared, but she'd fooled him there. He'd been sure that this was no life for a baby, either, but maybe he'd been wrong about that, too.
The Pruitts had babies who thrived. Mavis managed motherhood as well as cooking for ranch hands. He'd seen children running all over that day, babies on hips and napping in the shade. Just because life was difficult out here didn't mean people didn't get on with their lives.
So where were his thoughts leading? He'd just argued himself out of sending Linnea away.
The stallion bobbed his magnificent head, tossing his mane, then took several more steps forward.
"I think I'll call you Whiskey," Will said.
The horse wheeled on his hind legs and galloped to the opposite side of the corral.
Turning to lean back against the fence, Will stared at the darkened window at the corner of the house.
So what was he thinking? About taking Linnea as his wife?
What would happen if he walked into the house, knocked on her locked door, waited for her to open it and suggested they marry?
Terrified as she was of someone coming into her room, she probably wouldn't even open the door.
But she'd know it was him; she'd open it to him. And what would he say? Say, I was standing down by the corral thinking, and I figured, as a wife, you wouldn't make me too crazy. How about staying on and making a family here with me? That would sweep her off her feet.
Did she want to be swept? Was he capable?
The Tenderfoot Bride Page 16
