To Tempt a Rogue

by Connie Mason

  Ryan took his leave, but Teresa lingered behind. “I’ll help you into bed, Papa Bert,” she said sweetly. “I hope you don’t think I’m being deliberately cruel to Kitty. I just can’t bear to see you hurt by a woman who may or may not be your daughter.”

  “Teresa, honey, your jealousy is unwarranted. When I pass on you’ll be well provided for.”

  “Forgive me, Papa Bert,” Teresa purred. “The last thing I want is to upset you.” She kissed his forehead. “I’ll leave you now to rest.”

  Before searching for Kitty, Ryan made a detour to the kitchen and another to the stables. He’d promised Bert to help Kitty settle in, and he intended to make sure the old man died in peace, with his daughter by his side. He’d grown quite fond of Bert in the short time he’d known him.

  Ryan found Kitty leaning on the corral railing, watching a cowboy breaking a wild mustang. “What a beautiful animal,” Ryan said as he walked up behind her.

  As if she had sensed his arrival beforehand, she accepted his presence without being startled by it. “It seems a shame to break something so wild and free.”

  Ryan wondered if she were referring to herself. “Being wild and free is fine for an animal, but people have obligations that sometimes make those things impossible.”

  Kitty raised a finely arched eyebrow, finally turning to face him. “What exactly are you trying to say?”

  “Make anything you want of it, I wouldn’t presume to tell you anything.”

  “You think I should stay here, don’t you?”

  “I think you owe it to your father.”

  “Damnation, Ryan, but you’re infuriating. Have you come to tell me good-bye, then? Are you leaving?”

  “No, I’m not leaving. Not soon, anyway.”

  She searched his face. “Did Teresa talk you into staying?”

  “No, she has no influence over me.” God, she was lovely, he thought, searching Kitty’s features. A man could get lost in the mystery of those big blue eyes of hers and forget all about vows and resolutions that had once been important to him.

  She returned her attention to the bucking horse and the man trying to stay on his back. Ryan thought her next words took a lot of courage. “I’m glad you’re not leaving. I feel… alone here. I’ll never belong. Bert might think he wants me now, but in time he’d come to realize I’m not the kind of woman he wants for a daughter.”

  “Sometimes you make me so angry I could…” He was going to say strangle, but kissing her would more aptly describe what he wanted to do to Kitty. He grasped her arm and led her away from the corral. “Come on, let’s get the hell out of here. Bert suggested we take a ride and I’m in full agreement. I took the liberty of asking Rosita to pack us a lunch. Our horses are saddled and waiting. What about it? Will you join me?”

  “Why not?” Kitty said. “I think I’d enjoy a ride and picnic lunch. Is Teresa joining us?”

  Ryan gave an exasperated snort. “Not if I can help it.”

  They rode through pasture land, then into the desert beyond. Kitty was surprised at the stark beauty of the land. The weather had been hot and dry, and the vegetation looked withered, brown, and windblown. Only the stately saguaro cactus, embracing the sky with open arms, seemed undisturbed by the passage of time and seasons. Ryan led Kitty along a trail that cut through cactus and sagebrush, toward a range of mountains dead ahead of them. Off in the distance she could see cattle grazing on the hillsides, scavenging for food.

  “This is really … awesome,” Kitty said of the magnificent forest of cactus.

  “You should see the desert in bloom,” Ryan replied. “It was carpeted with wildflowers when I arrived. And the blooming cacti were a sight I’ll long remember. You’ll see what I mean next spring.”

  “Perhaps,” Kitty said doubtfully. Truth to tell, she had no idea where she’d be next spring. That was a long time. “Where are we going?”

  “I rode out with the hands one day to round up strays and found this perfect place for a picnic. There’s even a stream, though I’m not sure there’s water in it this time of year. It’s in the mountains. You’ll find it cooler up there than it is down here on the desert floor.”

  “That looks like a storm brewing over the mountains,” Kitty said with misgiving.

  “It’s still a long way off,” Ryan said after studying the fluffy clouds hanging over the lofty peaks. “No need to worry, though, there’s shelter where we’re going. The cowboys built a line cabin beside a mountain stream. They use it when one of those sudden Arizona gullywashers catches them out this way.”

  “I think I know Arizona better than you do,” Kitty said, “and that storm looks close to me. Perhaps we should turn back.”

  “Not on your life,” Ryan replied, giving her one of his ravishing smiles. “I planned a picnic and we’re going to have one.”

  The weather held, much to Kitty’s surprise. The stream even contained a trickle of water running through it—enough to water their thirsty horses. She noticed the small, windowless shack sitting back from the stream but otherwise gave it little thought as Ryan untied the basket of food he’d attached to his saddle and set it on the ground beside the stream.

  “There’s a blanket inside the basket,” Ryan said. “Rosita thought it would come in handy. Spread it out and I’ll set out the food.”

  In no time at all they were seated on the blanket enjoying fried chicken, fluffy biscuits, baked beans, and thick wedges of chocolate cake. Rosita had even included a jug of cool lemonade.

  “I’d steal Rosita away from Bert if I didn’t think Cookie would raise a ruckus,” Ryan said, licking a bit of chocolate frosting from his thumb.

  “Who is Cookie?” Kitty asked.

  “He’s our cook at home. Been with us forever.” He stretched out lazily, resting his head on his folded arms, and crossing his legs.

  Kitty’s gaze traveled appreciatively over his long length. She’d never seen a man as handsome or as well made physically as Ryan Delaney. Her mouth watered just thinking about his naked body and how it felt pressed against hers. She blinked, trying to dislodge Ryan’s unclothed image from her brain. Thoughts like that could get her in a heap of trouble.

  When she looked over at him again his eyes were closed, and he appeared to be sleeping. Kitty lay down beside him and watched him sleep, until her own eyes floated shut.

  The first raindrops hit her with a resounding splat, awakening her with a start. She’d been dreaming. A pleasant dream she could only vaguely recall. Rain was falling harder now, and she shook Ryan awake.

  “It’s raining, Ryan, wake up. We should have started back hours ago.”

  Ryan sat up groggily, dashing raindrops from his eyes. “I guess I fell asleep.” He raised his eyes to the angry sky and frowned. “This is going to be a real gullywasher.”

  He’d no sooner spoken than the sky opened up. The rain came in torrents, driven by a howling wind.

  “Run for the shack!” Ryan shouted over the wailing wind as he picked up the blanket and handed it to her along with the basket holding the remains of their repast. “I’ll get the saddles.”

  Kitty made a mad dash for the shack. It wasn’t far, but by the time she reached it she was soaked to the skin. Ryan joined her with their saddles a few minutes later. He was even wetter than she was.

  “There should be a lantern and matches on the shelf,” Ryan said. “I’ll have a light in here in no time. Are you cold?”

  “Fre… freezing,” Kitty said through chattering teeth.

  “If we’re lucky, the hands will have left firewood beside the hearth.” A light flared as Ryan struck a match to the lantern.

  “Ah, we’re in luck,” Ryan crowed. “There’s both wood and kindling. Once I get the fire going good, we can dry our clothes. You’d better strip before you catch your death. Wrap yourself in a blanket. There should be one folded up at the end of each bunk.”

  There were four bunks in the shed, each with a blanket folded at the foot. Kitty was grateful t
hat the last people to use this shack had left it well provisioned. After a quick glance to make sure Ryan was busy with the fire, she stripped off her clothing and wrapped herself in the blanket. Then she sat on the edge of the bunk, listening to the rain pounding on the tin roof and watching the play of muscles beneath Ryan’s wet clothing as he bent over the fireplace.

  The dry wood burst into flames. “There,” Ryan said. “That should warm us up.” He turned around and saw Kitty sitting on the bunk, wrapped in a woolen blanket. Ryan thought she’d never looked so fetching. Just the thought that she wore nothing beneath that blanket made him go hard as stone.

  “There are more blankets. You should get out of your wet clothes,” Kitty advised.

  Blood pounded through his loins, and his denims had become so tight in the crotch that he feared he would burst the seams. Getting out of them would be a huge relief.

  He was aware of her warm gaze on him as he walked to the bunk, picked up a folded blanket, and turned away from her to undress. Just knowing that she watched him sent heat racing up his spine. He didn’t need the fire to warm him. His fingers were all thumbs, but he finally managed to remove his wet clothing and wrap himself in the blanket.

  “We should spread our clothes on chairs before the fire to dry.” He saw two straight-backed chairs pushed up against the scarred table, and he pulled them over to the hearth.

  Kitty joined him with her wet dress and underthings after he’d set the chairs in place. As she spread her clothing out to dry, the blanket shielding her nudity slipped and fell to the floor. She glanced at Ryan, a helpless look on her face.

  Ryan’s heated gaze slid down the length of her flushed body with avid appreciation. He opened his mouth to speak, but he could think of no words to convey what he was feeling. When she reached for her fallen blanket he stepped on it, holding it in place on the floor.

  “Ryan…”

  He saw her shudder and knew she was thinking the same thing he was. Without a thought to the right or wrong of it, he released his hold on his own blanket. It pooled in a dark puddle around his feet. He saw Kitty’s eyes drop to his arousal, already full and hard and pressing upward against his belly. He groaned and pulled her hard against him, letting her feel how very much he wanted her.

  “Tell me you want me, Kitten.”

  Kitty’s silence was driving him insane. If she didn’t say yes he didn’t know what…

  “Yes. Please, yes.” The words were the sweetest music he’d ever heard. “I want you … inside me. I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t.”

  Chapter 11

  He swept her into his arms, tender and forceful at the same time. Green eyes beneath heavy-lashed lids glittered like shards of splintered glass as he smiled down at her.

  “Sweet Kitten,” he murmured beneath his breath.

  Kitty couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak as Ryan kissed her parted mouth. She sensed his desperation and opened her mouth to his probing tongue with a wanting that matched his in intensity. She shuddered with need, drowning in the mindless whirlwind of desire consuming her.

  With a gentleness that nearly brought Kitty to tears, he placed her on the bunk and stretched out beside her, his body partially covering hers. She felt the thick proof of his need pressing against her thigh as his fingers kneaded her breasts and toyed with her aching nipples. She writhed against him, savoring the contact of bare flesh against bare flesh. She felt his body slowly sliding down hers and inhaled sharply as his lips blazed a trail across her flesh. She moaned encouragement as he kissed his way to the nest of golden curls between her legs.

  She arched sharply upward when his mouth closed over a place so sensitive she feared she would shatter. Then she felt his tongue sliding over that swollen place, and she screamed out his name. Never had anything given her so much pleasure. It was wonderfully erotic. Sinfully delicious. She didn’t hear the rain beating against the shack, or the wind howling around the corners. All she heard were the furious pounding of her heart and the rush of blood throbbing through her veins. Her hands tangled in the thick, dark strands of his hair, and she urged him on with guttural sounds.

  She was coming too quickly. Her body writhed, sobs mixed with moans. Frenzied, reckless, desperate, she clung to him, feeling the splendor take her. She tried to stop it, but when Ryan thrust a finger inside her she went wild, arching up into his mouth and letting him carry her over the edge. She came explosively, sobbing and shuddering as ecstasy burst inside her.

  God, he loved the sounds she made; those little sighs and moans and sobbing pleas. He waited until she quieted, then he moved his body upward over hers, shoved her legs apart, and thrust into her hot, wet passage in a deep slide that produced a new round of shuddering. Her eyes widened, conveying without words her pleasure, and he smiled.

  “Oh, God, Ryan, yes, I want you inside me.” She ground her hips into his loins and he nearly exploded, hanging on by sheer will.

  “This is where I belong,” Ryan moaned thickly as the hot, clenching friction brought him close to the edge. He closed his eyes, grit his teeth, and pushed himself so deeply inside her he felt as if he’d found heaven. Then he began thrusting in earnest, stroking, withdrawing, deep, shallow, intensifying the already unbearable pressure building inside him. He wanted to bring Kitty to climax again and prayed for the staying power.

  Just when he feared he was going to leave her behind, she stiffened and cried out his name. “Ryan … oh please…” Her soft, plaintive cries spurred him to greater effort, and then he felt her contract around him, felt her heave and tremble, and heard her scream. Then he knew nothing more, for his own volatile climax carried him beyond the bounds of mental comprehension. Pleasure such as he’d never known before shattered inside him, bathing him in wave after wave of unbearable brilliance.

  Ryan rolled to his side and lay beside Kitty, his breath spewing through his lips in harsh, uneven puffs of air. He had no idea what made loving Kitty so special. A frown settled between his brows. He had made love countless times. It was always enjoyable but never like this. Loving Kitty was unlike any of his previous encounters. Instead of growing bored and eager to go on to the next conquest, he wanted to hang around until he learned what made Kitty different. It was almost as if she had uncovered a side of him he didn’t know existed.

  “Ryan, what are you thinking?” Kitty asked, snuggling against him to share his warmth.

  Ryan was silent for a long time, then he said, “About my brothers and home, I reckon.”

  “Are you anxious to go home? Your brothers must be extraordinary men. Tell me about them.”

  “They can be bossy, but I reckon they’re better than most brothers. They’ve had their share of troubles, but that’s what made them strong men.”

  “You said your father is dead. What about your mother? Is she still living?”

  Though nothing compelled Ryan to reveal family secrets to Kitty, somehow telling her seemed right.

  “I believe I already mentioned that my mother ran away with another man when my brothers and I were young boys. My father raised us. He was a good father, but he instilled in us his distrust of women. We were hell-raisers, my brothers and I. We were known in Dry Gulch for our wild ways,” he reminisced. “I can still recall many of those rousing fights we had at the saloon. We always stood together and nearly always won. Bad times came when we least expected them.”

  “What happened?”

  “A woman named Cora Lee Doolittle tore our lives apart. I won’t go into details, but her lies almost got Pierce hanged. Chad married Cora Lee in order to stop the hanging, but it wasn’t enough to prevent four senseless deaths. Chad held himself responsible, though none of it was his fault.

  “Chad’s conscience drove him away. He was gone two years. When he returned, he brought a woman named Sarah and her son with him. It all worked out. Chad married Sarah and Pierce married Zoey, but the experience left me with a healthy distrust of women.”

  He heard Kitty sigh and wondered what she
was thinking.

  “I’m sorry my curiosity brought back unpleasant memories,” she said. “Thank you for telling me. Pierce and Chad must have married exceptional women.”

  Ryan gave her a genuine grin. “They were lucky.”

  “Don’t you have any desire to have a wife and family of your own?” Kitty asked hopefully.

  “I have a niece and two nephews. Probably more are on the way by now. I don’t need children of my own.”

  Silence reigned. Even the rain and wind had ceased. Ryan wanted to make love to Kitty again, but he knew they should return to the ranch. Bert would worry if they didn’t check in soon. “We should leave,” Kitty said, giving voice to Ryan’s thoughts. “The rain has stopped.”

  “I want to make love to you again,” Ryan said, “but I reckon you’re right. Bert’s health is fragile, we shouldn’t worry him.” He raised up on his elbow and kissed her breasts, then her mouth. Heaving a reluctant sigh, he rose and walked over to the hearth to retrieve their clothing. “Our clothes are still damp but they’ll have to do,” he said, handing hers to her.

  Ryan pulled on his soggy denims and shirt. His boots squished when he stepped into them. “Are your boots as wet as mine?” he asked as he buckled his gunbelt over his slim hips.

  “Mine aren’t too bad,” Kitty said. “I can still get them on.”

  “The fire has nearly burnt itself out, we can safely leave it. I’ll saddle the horses while you fold the blankets and set the room to rights. Meet me outside when you’re finished.”

  Ryan left the cabin, wondering why he had divulged so much of his personal history to Kitty. He’d never felt the need or inclination to confide in a woman before. Though the residents of Dry Gulch were familiar with the tragedies that had plagued his family, few knew the personal, intimate details, and that’s the way he and his brothers wanted to keep it.

  Kitty joined Ryan a few minutes later. She handed him the picnic basket, and he tied it onto his saddle. She looked so delightfully disheveled that he couldn’t resist the urge to kiss her. When his hands settled around her waist to boost her into the saddle, he turned her instead into his arms and covered her mouth with his. His kiss was not a gentle one. It was hard and proprietary, a searing flame meant to brand his property.