by Pam Crooks
“I meant it when I said I’m not in love with Allethaire,” he went on. “I would never have kissed you like I did if I was in love with her.”
Her black eyes snapped back toward him. “Does she know you aren’t?”
“She knows our marriage was a business arrangement, nothing more. The financial benefits weighed heavily in her favor.”
“She speaks of you as her husband-to-be.”
“Let me explain something to you.”
Trey reached for his coffee cup and indulged in a slow sip, taking the time he needed to find the right words.
“My agreement to marry Allethaire cinched the deal on the hydro-electric plant her father wants to build on Wells land,” he began.
Zurina appeared surprised. “Meaning?”
“Meaning in return, she would get a husband who would give her security for the rest of her life. When she lived in Minnesota, she was accustomed to living among folks with power and influence. Paris figured she’d get all that with me.”
“The Wells Cattle Company is very powerful, yes.” Zurina nodded in utmost seriousness. “But Allethaire didn’t want you to love her first? Before she agreed to marriage with you?”
“Oh, she loved me all right. For my money.”
Zurina clucked her tongue in disapproval. “I would never marry a man I didn’t love,” she said firmly. “And I would not want him to marry me if he didn’t love me more than anything.”
“Not everyone can have the luxury of finding the perfect love out here, Zurina. Sometimes a man has to be practical. That hydro-electric plant is crucial to Montana’s growth. Marriage to a beautiful, refined woman like Allethaire seemed a small price to pay to partner with her father on such an important deal.”
“Then Allethaire shouldn’t have agreed to your proposal. She doesn’t love your ranch. And she doesn’t love Montana.”
“No. Nor was she willing to try.”
Zurina studied him. She seemed to digest all Trey had told her. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He frowned. “It wasn’t meant to be. I have no intention of moving to Minnesota.”
“It was unfair to expect it of you.”
“She wanted my father to run the ranch in my absence. But when he was murdered—” Trey halted on a wave of pain from the senseless act “—after he died, she knew there was no way I would ever leave.”
“And so you argued on the day of your father’s funeral. She left. She got lost, and that is how she found Papa and me.”
“Yes.”
Things went from bad to worse for Allethaire then. Her kidnapping was something no one should have to go through.
Trey held himself responsible. No one else he could blame. If he’d been more sensitive to her demands, more understanding of her perspective, more willing to compromise, she wouldn’t have gotten upset and left the ranch in a roaring tiff.
He could only hope she found the starch to survive her ordeal. Allethaire had grown up soft as pillow down from the pampering her parents had always given her. She had to be going through the hardest time of her life right now.
Worried, restless, he tossed aside his cup and stood. He left the warmth of the fire and strode over to the edge of the creek to think.
Moonlight splayed over the water. Cool air blew, and the silvery surface lapped gently against the rocky bank. Somewhere on the mountain, a coyote howled.
Another time, Trey would’ve found solace in a place like this, but not tonight. Not until he found Allethaire, settled his score with Woodrow and Mikolas—and avenged his father’s murder.
And then there was Zurina. He’d known her for only a short time, and yet she’d burrowed her way under his skin. Into his blood. When everything was said and done, how would he walk away from her?
She was all woman. Vibrant and caring and beautiful. A man would be proud to call her his, to keep her in his heart, at his side, and in his bed.
What would it be like if he were that man? If he had Zurina all to himself—forever?
Behind him, footsteps crunched over the rocky ground, and his senses heightened to her approach. She halted beside him and crossed her arms over her chest to ward off the night’s chill.
“I don’t mind so much anymore that you kissed me like you did,” she said.
His mouth curved. He declined to remind her she’d been a hot-blooded, willing participant to those kisses. He grasped her shoulders and pulled her against him.
“Then you won’t mind me holding you like this to warm us both up, either,” he murmured.
She came willing. Even laid her head against his chest, all familiar and easy.
“If we get an early start, we’ll reach Rogers Pass by late morning, I think,” she said against his shirt.
He rested his chin on the top of her head and thought of how much awaited them, none of it easy. “The earlier, the better, then.”
He sensed her hesitation. “I have something I must tell you before we get there.”
“Yeah?”
Trey didn’t much want to talk. Or think. It felt too good just standing here, holding her, fantasizing about what it’d be like if she belonged to him so he could hold her whenever he wanted.
“It’s about Mikolas,” she said.
He ran a hand up her spine and back down again through the soft wool of her sweater. He pressed his lips to her temple and thought again of how different she was from Allethaire.
“Can it wait?” he asked, procrastinating against the invasion of reality.
“No.”
Her trouble-making brother would likely always be a sore spot between them. Trey couldn’t think of a thing she could say that would change that.
But if she wanted him to listen, he would.
“What about him?” he asked.
Suddenly her head came up. “Did you hear that?”
He tensed. “Hear what?”
She pushed away. “Splashing.”
Her head turned toward the creek in alarm. Trey raked a glance up one side and down the other.
“I don’t hear anything,” he said.
“Someone is in the water.” She sprinted along the bank. “The splashing came from over there.”
“I’ll get my rope. Stay put, Zurina. Don’t go running off. I’ll be right back.”
Damned strange to have someone—or something—splashing around out there this time of night. Trey didn’t like having intruders so close, especially with him and Zurina unaware. No telling what the strangers would’ve done, and Trey wouldn’t have known until it was too late.
First couple of names that came to mind—Mikolas and Woodrow. He hoped he was wrong. Regardless, whoever was out there likely needed help, or they wouldn’t be splashing, and once Trey grabbed his coiled lariat, he took off running after Zurina. She’d ignored his command to wait for him, and he caught up with her a fair way up the bank.
She pointed into the water. “Over there. See him? He’s terrified, Trey. We have to pull him out.”
His gaze zeroed in on the unmistakable shape of a sheep sticking head and neck out of the water several yards upstream.
The alarm drained out of him. Trey set his hands on his hips in exasperation. “What the hell is he doing out there?”
“He must have gotten confused and fallen in. Will your rope reach?”
“He’s just standing out there.” The damn fool.
“He’s not bleating, either, which means he’s scared. Sheep are very vulnerable, Trey. They don’t know how to defend themselves.”
Vulnerable? Stupid was more like it, but Trey knew better than to say so, and though it scraped against every grain in his cattleman body, he had to do what he could to save the woolly.
For Zurina’s sake, he told himself.
Zurina’s.
He adjusted the lariat’s honda to make the right size loop, lifted his arm and started the circle spinning. Gauging his toss, he threw the loop, but the sheep floundered at the sight of the hemp coming at him. Hell, he flounder
ed so much, he went right under. The lariat missed, and Zurina yelped in horror.
“Try again, Trey. Hurry, or he’ll drown!”
The woolly came up bobbing and splashing. Trey swung the loop a second time. By now, the sheep was good and panicked, and the rope missed its mark. Again.
“I have to go in.” Zurina lifted her sweater by its hem and yanked the garment over her head.
“The hell you will.” Trey pulled the rope in and readied for another swing. He’d roped plenty of ornery cows in his day, and he’d be damned if one tongue-tied, water-logged woolly would best him. Before he could throw out his rope again, Zurina had her boots pulled off and her skirt unbuttoned.
Trey gaped at her. “Don’t even think about jumping in after him, Zurina. The water’s damn cold.”
“It’s not deep.”
“You could step into a hole. As dark as it is, I’d never see you to find you.”
“He’s full-woolled, Trey. The water has soaked the fleece and is weighing him down. His legs aren’t strong enough for him to climb out.” Her skirt and blouse lay in a heap over her sweater. She perched on the edge of the bank in her thin shift.
Trey could hardly contain his annoyance. He heaved a disgusted sigh and began unbuttoning his shirt.
“I’ll go in after him, then, Zurina. Stay here, and I mean it. Put your clothes back—”
She was in the water before he could finish the sentence. The cold sucked a shriek right out of her, but she kept on going, straight toward the woolly she was so determined to save.
The worthless piece of mutton. Trey bit back a curse. He would’ve throttled her if he could’ve reached her. He wavered between going in after her and hanging onto good sense and staying dry on the bank.
Good sense won out, but his eyes glued themselves to her moonlit shape. She waded in water that soon reached her waist. A few feet from the sheep, she twisted back toward Trey.
“Throw me the rope,” she said and stretched out her hand.
Her teeth were chattering, and he hurried to throw the loop right to her. She grasped the line and would’ve draped it over the sheep’s head, but he suddenly shied and knocked her sideways.
She went under with a cry, and Trey’s heart forgot to beat.
Cussing the air blue, he leaped into the creek. Water seeped into his boots and socks. He reached Zurina just as she came up with a gasp.
“Oh, it’s freezing!” Arms flailing, she half-giggled, half-shrieked, and did a fast two-step to keep her balance.
Feet braced, Trey scooped her up against him and held on to her good and tight. Her toes cleared the creek bottom by inches.
“Are you all right?” he demanded.
She circled her arms around his neck. “Yes, of course. Oh, but I am so sorry!”
Her wet skin and soggy shift soaked into his shirt. Water seeped higher up his Levi’s but every drop was worth it to be able to hold her like this. As if she was wearing nothing at all.
He eased her down into the water. The thin undergarment plastered her body like a second skin, and his hands slid lower, cupped her cool buttocks and pulled her harder against him.
“Sorry for what?” he murmured.
Fire flared in his groin, and from the thickening of his shaft, she would know how her near-nakedness affected him.
“For making you w-wet and c-cold,” she breathed.
“Do I look mad over it?”
His head lowered, and his mouth took hers in bold and selfish thievery, taking advantage of a situation that demanded restraint, considering their predicament. Yet his hunger, his burgeoning, persistent need for her warred with his good sense. He took her mouth with long, deep strokes of his tongue, showing her just what he’d like to do to her with his body… until her soft, shivering moans reminded him where they were. And why.
Reluctantly, he lifted his head and ended the kisses. He slid his hands up and down her arms, warming her.
“You owe me, woman, y’know that?” he growled, and took the rope she still held. “But first, let’s get this damn fool woolly out of the water before we both catch our deaths.”
“It will not be e-easy,” she warned.
Trey looped the rope over the sheep’s neck and soon found truer words were never spoken. Together, they pulled, tugged and pushed the sheep toward the bank. At times panicked, at others as stiff as a statue, the scared animal resisted their efforts to be rescued.
But eventually, they managed it. Once up on the bank, Trey sank to the ground. Zurina collapsed beside him, both exhausted from their efforts.
“We must get him away from the w-water,” she panted. “Or else he—oh, no!”
Before Trey could even think it, the stupid sheep turned tail and jumped right back into the creek.
Chapter Thirteen
The fire shed a glorious heat that soaked into Zurina’s bones and painted her skin with a rosy glow. After their efforts to rescue the panic-stricken ewe a second time, she hadn’t been sure she could ever get warm again.
Trey made sure she did. He built two fires—one to dry their clothes, the other to dry themselves. He’d wrapped her in a blanket and parked her as close to the flames as he dared, then plunked a cup of steaming hot coffee into her hands with strict instructions to drink every drop.
Zurina admitted to enjoying his fussing and worrying. Really, she could have done all those things herself—build a fire, wrap up in a blanket, pour a cup of coffee—but when Trey did them for her, well, he made her feel… special to him.
Imagine. A cattleman taking such good care of a Basque sheepwoman. Who would have thought it could happen?
And yet, she couldn’t let herself enjoy it too much. This camaraderie they shared—it wouldn’t last much longer. When he found out about Mikolas and the hate and resentment both Mikolas and Zurina harbored for the terrible violence Sutton Wells enacted against Mama, reality would come crashing down on their heads, and nothing would be the same again.
Zurina had tried to tell Trey earlier, before the sheep’s splashing distracted her. Trey deserved to know about his half-brother. He needed to know what to expect when they finally met in Rogers Pass, if indeed that’s where Mikolas was, hiding out with Woodrow Baldwin.
Zurina dreaded what would happen. Mikolas had been so angry when she saw him last. So full of vengeance….
She couldn’t bear to think of it. Later, she would have to. But for now, just for tonight, she preferred to think of only Trey.
Her glance settled over him while he finished pounding the last of a row of sticks into the ground, near the fire. Bare-chested, muscles rippling, his work absorbed him. Her socks already hung drying from a couple of the little posts, next to his boots. And strung between two trees, a rope held her shift and Trey’s shirt.
It wouldn’t be long, and he would add his soaking wet Levi’s to the line, and a warmth pooled inside Zurina, deep between her thighs.
He would be completely naked, then. Just like Zurina was now, beneath the blanket, and oh, what a strange feeling it was sitting here like that. As naked as the day she was born.
Neither of them had any choice, of course. Sleeping in their wet clothes would have been cold and uncomfortable. Silly, too. The garments would dry far faster hanging by themselves during the night, close to the fiery heat.
Still, she missed the clothes she’d left behind in her room. Plenty of clean underwear, folded neatly in the drawer. Her skirts and blouses, each dry and ready to pull on.
But they were there. And she was here, a half day’s ride away.
Her thoughts drifted to her sweater, skirt, blouse and boots, and how they still laid along the creek’s bank. Somewhere. She’d lost track of them in the dark. After they brought the sodden ewe back to camp and hobbled her, Trey didn’t want Zurina traipsing along the bank in her wet shift searching for her clothes. She would just have to go back for them in the morning.
“Warm enough?”
Trey’s low voice reached into her musing
s and sent them flying. He squatted next to her, his forearm propped on his knee.
“Very much so.” But she clutched the blanket tighter. “How about you?”
His coppery eyes smoldered in a way that had nothing to do with their close proximity to the flames.
“Getting warmer by the minute,” he murmured.
Her bare toes curled into the grass. The way he looked at her, as if he could devour her with smacking lips and relish every bite….
He reached out a long arm and tucked her hair behind her ear. She could imagine how she looked to him, with her braid undone, her dark tresses spread over her shoulders to dry, wisps curling at her temples.
“Unless you need something, we might as well turn in,” he said.
“I don’t need anything,” she said softly. “But thank you.”
He drew back, straightened, and with her heart pounding, she watched him stride to their clothesline. He unbuttoned his pants, hooked his thumbs over the waistband and peeled the wet denims down past his thighs.
Her pulse pounded harder. Firelight accented the muscles rolling over his shoulders and lean, taut buttocks. The breadth of power in this man had never been more apparent, more breathtaking, than now.
When he was stark naked.
She quickly averted her gaze before he turned and caught her staring. She set aside her cup and busied herself adjusting her blanket, keeping herself cocooned within its folds while she changed from a sitting position to a reclining one, no easy task for sure.
But she managed, thank goodness, and before he returned. He’d made a small bed by spreading a long, rubber-backed tarp over pine needles and grass, and she shifted to her side near the very edge, facing the fire, and closed her eyes.
Yet every sense tuned into him. The rustle of denim being shook out and hung over the rope line. The faint crunch of grass from quick strides across the camp to join her here, next to the fire. She didn’t need to see him to know when he halted, then knelt behind her.
“Going to have to split that blanket with me, Zurina,” he said. “It’s the only one we have. There’s room enough for both of us, and it’ll be warmer, besides.”
Her eyes flew open. “You don’t have another one for yourself?”
