To Tempt a Rogue

by Connie Mason

  Ryan shot a pheasant and they dined on roasted meat, potatoes cooked in the fire, and canned peaches. It didn’t matter if they used up their store of supplies, for Ryan told her they would reach her father’s ranch tomorrow.

  Father. The word tasted like ashes in her mouth. She would be perfectly happy to spend the rest of her life without meeting the man who claimed to be her father.

  “What are you thinking?” Ryan asked as he gathered up the leftovers and stomped out the fire. Apparently he had noticed her contemplative mood.

  Kitty sighed. “About tomorrow. Meeting Bert Lowry isn’t going to be easy.”

  “Why can’t you think of him as your father?” Ryan asked. “It would help, you know.”

  “Don’t ask that of me, Ryan. I’ll always think of him as the bastard who left Mama and me to fend for ourselves.”

  “He didn’t know about you, Kitty.” He frowned at her. “I thought you were working on cleaning up your coarse language. Your lapses are becoming less frequent, but the cuss words seem to reappear whenever you’re upset.”

  Kitty’s chin rose pugnaciously. “I can’t help how I talk. I just open my mouth and out it comes. I told you this was a mistake.”

  “I am sure Bert won’t care how you talk,” Ryan said, as if trying to reassure himself as well as Kitty. But Kitty didn’t believe it.

  “We’ll see,” she said cryptically.

  Kitty stretched and yawned, glad in a way that this journey was ending. Ryan was becoming too important to her. She didn’t know what she was going to do when he returned to his ranch in Montana. She glanced up at him when she felt the searing heat of his gaze resting upon her and knew precisely what he was thinking. But he needn’t worry. She had neither the strength nor the will to deny them one last night together. Her thoughts must have conveyed themselves to him, for he reached for her, bringing her roughly into his arms.

  “If this is to be our last night together, we shouldn’t waste it. I hope you’re not too tired.”

  His breathtaking smile nearly stopped her heart. She would have to be dead not to want the same thing he did. Making love with Ryan was the only thing in her miserable life she had to look forward to, and even that would end soon.

  “I’m not too tired,” she said, finding her mouth gone suddenly dry with anticipation.

  He gave her another of his devastating smiles and slowly began to undress her. Needing to touch him, she unbuttoned his shirt and splayed her hands on his bare shoulders. She heard him drag in a shuddering breath as her hands moved over his chest, down his taut belly, to his belt.

  She rested her hands on his waist as he removed her remaining clothing. When she was naked, she tugged at his belt, and he eagerly complied to her unspoken command. She shuddered with need as he ripped off his breeches and boots and tossed them aside. He stood before her as naked as she, a magnificent, virile animal. They moved as one to the bedroll, mouths clinging, hands seeking pleasure points, both fully aroused even before reaching their destination.

  She lay beneath him, trembling with need as he caressed her body, his fingers probing, stroking, working their skillful magic as his mouth found the throbbing pulse at the base of her throat. Then he parted her legs and thrust into her, so deep she felt him touch her soul. Her tenuous hold on reality fled, and she climaxed violently, the pleasure so incredible she nearly swooned. He needed only a few forceful strokes before she felt him go rigid as his own climax came upon him. She stroked his back, his shoulders, whispering that she loved him, achingly aware that he couldn’t hear her and fearing to say the words aloud.

  They fell asleep in each other’s arms, awakening later to make love again. Just before dawn she felt his mouth upon her breasts, suckling her, and for the third time that night she gave herself up to passion.

  Morning came too soon. They got a later start than usual, and after a breakfast of leftovers they broke camp and rode off.

  After a few hours of hard riding they stopped to rest the horses. “The Lowry spread is dead ahead,” Ryan said. He searched her face, then asked, “Are you all right?”

  No! she wanted to scream. I’m not all right. I’m scared, and I’m afraid I’ll lose you. You’re the only thing I have to cling to in this strange new world gone suddenly awry.

  She gave a mirthless chuckle. “Don’t even ask.”

  “Everything is going to be fine, you’ll see,” Ryan assured her. “You’ll be home soon.”

  “Home,” she said dryly. “I can hardly wait.”

  Ryan gave her a hard look but did not belabor the subject.

  After a short rest they remounted and resumed their journey. Two hours later they crossed the outer boundaries of Lowry land. A short time after that the ranch house came into view. The land, the grand house, the fat cows grazing on the hillsides, everything Kitty saw indicated prosperity. Bert Lowry must be a rich man, she reflected, vowing to take nothing from him, not that she expected anything. She’d never had a father before, and she didn’t need one now. She had suffered deprivation and faced dangerous situations while Bert Lowry was living an affluent life with his wife and stepdaughter. They had nothing in common.

  Chickens and geese scattered as they rode through the gate into the yard. Kitty eyed the numerous outbuildings—the barn, the stables, the corral. She was impressed by the large number of cowhands engaged in activity, and felt completely out of her element. She couldn’t deal with prosperity. During her early years she had eaten when her mother earned money to provide a decent meal. Deke had been of no help at all. He’d drunk up his money and then tried to wrest money from her mother’s meager income when his ran out. During her later years she’d subsisted on standard camp fare of beans, wild game, and jerky. She’d felt fortunate when flour or cornmeal was available.

  A cowboy ambled up to take their horses as they reined in before the rambling two-story ranch house. The cowboy gave Kitty a hard stare, then led the horses off after greeting Ryan by name.

  “I became acquainted with the hands during my stay here,” he explained when Kitty looked at him askance. “Shall we go inside?”

  Kitty swallowed past the lump in her throat and nodded. Sand crunched under her feet as she walked up the stairs and onto the front porch, and she concentrated on the sound to take her mind off her anxiety. The wide front porch looked exactly like the one in a recurring dream she had about living in a real house with a front porch just like this one. But in her dreams the house and porch belonged to her, not to a stranger she had to pretend to like.

  Kitty stared at the petite raven-haired beauty who opened the front door to them. She was fashionably dressed in a pale green dimity gown that hugged her curvaceous figure and revealed a rather large portion of creamy white breasts. Her skin was so pale that Kitty seriously doubted whether the woman ever stepped foot outside without first swathing herself from head to toe. Her face lit up when she saw Ryan.

  “You’re back!” the woman cried, launching herself at Ryan.

  To Kitty’s dismay, Ryan appeared more than eager to see the curvy beauty as he opened his arms to receive her. She watched the young woman give Ryan an exuberant hug, but she was puzzled by the smug smile the girl sent her over Ryan’s shoulder.

  “I didn’t know I’d be missed,” Ryan said jokingly as he carefully removed the girl’s arms from around his neck and stepped back. He turned to Kitty with a smile she thought looked a tad strained and said, “Teresa, I’d like you to meet your stepsister, Kathryn. She likes to be called Kitty. Kitty, this is Teresa. I know you two are going to be good friends, since you are nearly the same age.”

  Kitty gave Teresa a tentative smile, hoping to forge a friendship. But Teresa’s cold stare soon disabused her of that notion. Nonetheless, Kitty offered a polite greeting, which Teresa all but ignored.

  “I’m three years older,” Teresa said, sniffing disdainfully as she raked Kitty with a look that spoke of her disdain. “Where did Ryan find you?”

  “It doesn’t matter where
I found Kitty,” Ryan answered. “Aren’t you going to invite us inside?” he asked, dragging a reluctant Kitty with him as she stepped around Teresa and entered the house. “I’d like to see your stepfather immediately, if possible.”

  “Papa Bert is resting. Are you sure you have the right woman? I would hate to see Papa Bert disappointed. I don’t know how much more his poor heart can take.”

  “I have the right woman,” Ryan assured her.

  Kitty couldn’t blame Teresa for being suspicious and resentful. Until Kitty’s arrival she had been Bert’s only daughter. Now suddenly she was being demoted to the position of stepdaughter, pushed aside by Bert’s biological daughter. Kitty would have told Teresa she had nothing to worry about on that score, for she had no intention of sticking around long enough for Teresa to get her nose out of joint.

  “Why don’t you show Kitty to her room while I speak with Bert,” Ryan suggested. “Kitty can probably use a bath and a rest before meeting her father.”

  Kitty blessed Ryan for his thoughtfulness but thought that Teresa didn’t look any too pleased with Ryan’s dismissal.

  “Very well,” Teresa agreed with less than good grace. “I’ll see you later, Ryan. We need to talk,” she added, giving Kitty a look that spoke of her animosity.

  On the other hand, the silky purr and inviting smile Teresa bestowed upon Ryan left little doubt in Kitty’s mind that Ryan and Teresa had been more than mere acquaintances. She’d realized long ago that Ryan was a womanizer but it hurt to see another woman fawning over him.

  Granted Ryan was a handsome devil who could charm the drawers off a statue, but Kitty wondered if Teresa knew she’d never get Ryan to the altar. Her thoughts skid to a halt when Teresa started up the staircase, motioning for Kitty to follow.

  “We’re short on rooms,” Teresa contended. “You’ll have to take an unoccupied room in the attic. It was used as a maid’s room until Papa Bert built small cottages for the help and their families. Only Rosita, the cook, resides in the house. Her room is off the kitchen.”

  “It makes no difference where you put me, since I won’t be staying long.”

  Teresa whirled, her elegant eyebrows raised. “What do you mean, you’re not staying long?”

  Kitty gave her a defiant glare. “I never had a father growing up, why should I want one now? I came to meet a dying man, one who says he’s my father. I have no proof that he really is who he claims. Besides,” she added with a shrug, “Ryan said I need only stay long enough to meet… Bert.”

  Teresa led the way up a second staircase to the attic. Halfway up she turned to confront Kitty. “I don’t believe you. You’re just a scheming little hussy after Papa Bert’s worldly goods, which, as you may have guessed, are considerable.”

  Kitty’s temper, never very stable, exploded. “You bitch! I ain’t no hussy and I don’t give a crap about Mr. Lowry’s worldly goods. You’re welcome to them. Show me which room is mine and get the hell away from me.”

  Teresa retreated a step, her hand splayed over her chest in obvious shock. “My word! I’ve never heard such filth coming from a woman’s mouth. Where did you grow up, in the gutter? Papa Bert isn’t going to like that at all.”

  “I don’t give a damn what Bert Lowry likes or dislikes. He’s never been a father to me. He abandoned my mother for yours, why should I care what he thinks? Now if you’ll show me to my room, I intend to have a bath and rest Would you see that hot water is carried up for me?”

  Kitty could tell by the way Teresa bristled that she didn’t take kindly to being ordered around. Teresa opened the door to the room she’d assigned to Kitty, stepped out of the way so Kitty could enter, and said, “I’m not a servant We have a bathing room with hot and cold running water.”

  Kitty knew she had blundered badly, but Teresa had made her angry enough to spit nails. Sighing, she entered the room and came to an abrupt halt. The roof slanted so steeply on one side that Kitty doubted she’d be able to stand upright. A narrow cot was pushed up against the slanted roof. Should she rise suddenly from sleep she’d bash her head on the slanting wall. The rest of the furnishings consisted of a single ladder-back chair, a washstand, cracked bowl and pitcher, and nails pounded into the wall to hold her clothing. She immediately opened the one small uncurtained window and breathed deeply of the fresh air wafting into the musty room.

  Kitty ran a finger over the nightstand and snorted in disgust. A thick layer of dust covered her finger. She’d slept in some pretty dismal places before, including the hard ground, but this was one of the worst Before she could lay her head on the pillow she would have to take all the bedclothes outside and give them a thorough shaking. If this was how Bert Lowry meant to treat his daughter, she wanted nothing to do with the man.

  * * *

  Bert was sleeping when Ryan tiptoed into his room. He looked so peaceful that Ryan decided to wait until Bert awakened to give him the good news. Meanwhile, he’d carry Kitty’s belongings up to her room so she could settle in.

  With Kitty’s saddlebags flung over one broad shoulder, Ryan started up the stairs. At the top landing he paused to get his bearings. He recalled that there were three bedrooms and a bathing room on the second floor. One bedroom was Teresa’s, one he’d occupied during his stay, and the other was empty. Bert slept downstairs in a converted den where his needs could be attended to more easily. Ryan strode to the room he knew to be empty and knocked on the door. When no one answered, he barged in.

  The room was empty. A puzzled frown marred his wide brow. No sign existed that either Kitty or Teresa had been there. He dropped the saddlebags on the floor and returned to the hallway just as Teresa was descending the attic stairs. Now he really was baffled. To his knowledge there was just a small room under the eaves that no one had occupied in years.

  Teresa stopped abruptly when she saw Ryan, obviously not expecting to see him there. Ignoring her apparent confusion, he asked, “Where is Kitty?”

  “In her room, of course,” Teresa said, sending him a dazzling smile. Instead of placating him, the smile made him edgy and set off warning bells in his head. Something wasn’t right.

  “I’ve just been to Kitty’s room and she’s not there.”

  Teresa’s smile turned brittle. “I thought she would prefer privacy, so I gave her the attic room. She’ll be quite comfortable there.”

  “You what?” Ryan shouted, afraid his hearing had gone bad.

  Teresa repeated her previous words.

  Ryan’s temper flared. “You know damn good and well that room isn’t fit for human occupancy. What made you do such a damn fool thing?”

  “Don’t you dare use that kind of language with me, Ryan Delaney,” Teresa said in a wounded voice. “It’s bad enough hearing it from that vulgar little hussy you brought here. I was shocked. I don’t know where you found Kitty, but in my opinion she’s a coarse, foulmouthed tramp.”

  “Your opinion doesn’t count, Teresa,” Ryan said with remarkable patience, when what he’d really like to do was wring Teresa’s spoiled little neck. She had no business ridiculing Kitty or her language when she knew nothing about the life Kitty had been forced to live.

  “I don’t want to see Papa Bert hurt,” Teresa explained with mock innocence.

  Ryan searched her face, then nodded grudgingly. “Very well, I’ll overlook your rudeness since we can right this wrong with little effort.” He started up the narrow staircase.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To take Kitty to the room that should rightfully be hers,” Ryan threw over his shoulder. “I’ll try to convince her this was all a mistake.”

  “Yes, yes, a mistake,” Teresa agreed with alacrity. “Shall I come with you and explain?”

  “No need. I can find my own way.”

  Fortunately he didn’t see the look of fury Teresa delivered to his back as he continued up the stairs. He reached the tiny alcove and rapped lightly on the door. When no one answered, he opened the door and stepped inside. He saw Kitty lea
ning out the window, shaking something that created a flurry of dust.

  “What are you doing?”

  Kitty yelped and spun around. “You frightened me. Don’t you believe in knocking first?”

  “I did knock but apparently you didn’t hear me. What are you doing?” he repeated.

  “Shaking out the sheets and blanket.” She sneezed twice and gave him a sheepish look. “Truth to tell, I’d rather bed down outside than sleep in this room.”

  “Come away from the window. You’re not going to sleep outside, nor are you going to remain in this room.”

  She gave him a skeptical look. “Why not? I hope you’re not suggesting that I share your room. I don’t think Teresa would like that.”

  “I don’t care what Teresa likes or doesn’t like. This isn’t the room you were supposed to occupy. Although, come to think of it, sharing my bed isn’t a bad idea,” he added, grinning wolfishly. “Your room is on the second floor, next to mine and across from Teresa’s. The bathing room is down the hall a few steps.”

  “Teresa said the bedrooms on the second floor were occupied.”

  “Teresa made a mistake. I’m afraid she’s a tad jealous, but hopefully she’ll reconsider and you two can become real sisters.”

  “That’s not going to happen. We had a short conversation before you arrived, and it wasn’t pleasant.”

  “So I heard. What did you say to her? I told you to curb your tongue. I thought you had that problem under control.”

  “I couldn’t help it. I’m not used to being insulted without retaliating. I told you I don’t belong here.”

  “You’ve been here less than two hours,” Ryan said. “Give yourself a chance to adjust. You haven’t even met Bert yet.”

  To Ryan’s dismay, he saw tears forming in the corner of Kitty’s eyes. He realized she was near the breaking point, and he felt another unaccustomed jolt of compassion. That seemed to happen a lot around Kitty. Without really knowing how it happened, she was in his arms.