Beneath him, Lass tried to keep up with his frantic pace, tried to knead, touch, taste every bump and hollow on his hard, muscled body. Like a strong wine, she wanted to drink him, savor every taste, every magical sensation that was intoxicating her senses.
Soon she was gasping for air and the need inside was clawing at her like a fierce cat, hissing, twitching, readying itself for the final pounce. When that final leap came, she swallowed her cries and gripped him close. And like water over a fall, she was suddenly flowing wild and free, drifting languidly, until finally she ebbed onto a soft, sandy shore.
The second Brady felt her velvety softness tightening around him, heard the low, keening moan deep in her throat, he lost all touch with his surroundings. Unbearable pleasure burst inside him, flung him upward and outward until he was sure his heart had split open and everything it held was spilling into her.
The urge to shout was so great that he buried his face into the curve of her neck and kept it there until the shudders in him subsided.
Once the walls of the room quit spinning, Brady realized he was sprawled over Lass and she was supporting the brunt of his weight. Quickly, he rolled to one side of her and lying flat against the mattress, stared in stunned wonder at the shadowed ceiling.
So that was making love, he thought. He’d not known or ever imagined that such give and take could go on between a man and a woman. She’d taken him over a precipice, and even if he’d known the fall would kill him, he still would have gone willingly, happily.
Somewhere from the dark corners of his mind, fear pricked like a cold, evil blade and he turned his head to look at her.
At that moment, she rolled to face him and strands of her long black hair spilled over a flushed cheek and swung a modest curtain over one breast. Her lips were dark pink and puffy, her skin covered with a sheen of sweat. He’d never seen anything so lovely, so perfect. And though he’d not yet caught his breath, he felt desire stir in him all over again.
Shifting toward her, he reached out and gently tucked the errant strands of hair behind her ear.
“What are you thinking?” he asked gently.
The corners of her mouth tilted wanly and then to his dismay, her gray eyes glazed, then pooled with tears.
“I think,” she whispered huskily, “that I love you, Brady Donovan.”
Chapter Eleven
I love you. Those three little words were the last thing Brady expected to hear from Lass. For a second time tonight she’d stunned him and as he gazed at her, his thoughts were spinning, searching for a way to reply that wouldn’t make him sound insensitive or patronizing or, God help him, an enchanted fool.
In spite of his reputation for having racked up more dates than Abe Cantrell had cattle, Brady had never had a woman tell him she loved him. Well, maybe once in high school, but that had been from a silly little drama student, who’d not really known the meaning of the word, but truly believed she was destined for a star on the Hollywood walk of fame. So as far as he was concerned that one time hadn’t counted.
But tonight, with Lass, he’d felt the emotion in her voice, saw a glow in her eyes that made him feel amazed, yet at the same time terribly unworthy. She deserved the best. She deserved to be loved in return. But was he capable of that?
His hand trembling, he trailed his fingertips down her damp cheek. “Lass, I don’t know what to say. I—”
Her forefinger touched his upper lip, stopping anything else he might have said. “You don’t have to say anything,” she gently insisted. “I don’t expect you to tell me that you love me back.”
She scooted closer to him and the musky, womanly scent of her swirled around him, caught his senses and sent them dancing away to hide in a shadowy corner. Then just as he was trying to drag them back, her hand drifted onto his shoulder and glided down his arm. Her touch scattered goose bumps across his skin.
“I just…thought you should know how I feel,” she went on, then with a sigh, she pressed her cheek against his chest. “That’s all.”
His throat thickened, his eyes closed. Was that his heart tearing down the middle? Did love feel like a fist punching him in the gut, making his whole chest ache? If so, then he was scared. Scared that the pain might never stop.
“Lass, maybe…what you’re really feeling for me is gratitude. Because I found you—that night on the road.”
An objective groan sounded in her throat. “Look, Brady, I’m grateful to anyone who helps me. And I may not remember my own name, but I don’t believe that I ever went around thanking the men in my life like—” she reared her head back to look at him “—like this.”
“God, I hope not.”
She slanted him a wry look. “I should have never said anything to you about my…feelings. Now you’re uncomfortable and I don’t know how to put you at ease, to convince you that I’m not expecting vows or pledges or flowery words from you. I’m not blind. I can see that you don’t want to be serious about any woman.”
He was shocked at how much of him was insulted by her not so flattering assessment. “Really?” he asked sardonically. “You can see that about me, through all the muddy conceit and selfishness?”
Disappointment filled her eyes and Brady was suddenly ashamed of himself. He didn’t know what was pushing him to say such things. It must be that odd pain in his chest that was putting words in his mouth.
Sighing, she rolled away from him and climbed from the bed. Confused, Brady watched her walk over to the nearest window and stare out at the dark, moonless sky. And though the lovely sight of her nakedness was riveting, it was the wistful expression on her face that caught his attention and pushed him to leave the bed and go stand behind her.
Sliding his arms around her waist, he bent his head and pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder. Her skin was warm and salty and he had to catch himself before his teeth began to nibble, his hands lift to cup her breasts.
“I’m sorry, Lass. I guess I’m not saying anything right.”
“Maybe it would be better if you didn’t say anything at all,” she suggested, her voice painfully distant.
Lifting his head, he rested his chin on the top of her head. “I can’t do that, Lass. I want you to understand that…well, you threw me for a loop.”
Twisting in his arms, she looked up at him, her gaze searching. “Why?”
Grimacing, he shook his head. “I don’t know. Lass, this is all new for me. I don’t know what being in love feels like and I’ve never dated any woman long enough to give her the chance to fall in love with me.”
“Why?” she asked again.
Her simple question pulled a groan from his throat.
“This is probably going to sound corny to you, but to me love means forever. It’s like marriage—once you do it, it ought to be for life.”
Her gray eyes suddenly softened. “Is that why you’ve not yet loved or married? Because you don’t want to be connected to someone for life?”
With a rough sigh, he pulled her to him and cradled her head against his shoulder. As his fingers meshed in the silky strands of her hair, he asked, “Did you know that both of my brothers have been married?”
“Yes. Kate told me that Conall is divorced and Liam is widowed.”
“That’s right. Conall was married for a few years and then things went wrong between him and his wife. Liam’s wife was killed in a car accident. She was pregnant with their first child at the time.”
Lass gasped. “Oh, how tragic!”
“Yeah. Both my brothers have endured too much heartache.”
Her gaze sharpened on his face. “So you’re afraid to try love or marriage? Afraid that tragedy will strike you, too?”
“Not exactly,” he answered, then his mouth twisted wryly. “Funny you should think that about me. My family tends to think I’m a shallow fellow when it comes to women. That I’m some sort of heartbreaker.” Snorting softly, he shook his head. “I guess to them it does look that way. I have to admit that I’ve dated plenty of wome
n over the years, but I don’t have anything against love or marriage. It’s just something…well, I want to be cautious about it. I need a woman strong enough to cope with my job, with the worries and fears, and realize that I truly want to keep being a deputy. A lot of the girls I dated couldn’t really cope with the hours and the schedule and the job. And I want to get a little older and wiser before I take the plunge and then maybe I’ll have a marriage like my parents have.”
Her palms rested upon chest. “And that’s what you want, a marriage like your parents’?”
His fingers stroked the silky hair lying upon her shoulder. “I want a woman I can love. The way my dad loves my mother. The way my grandpa loved my grandma. What they had, what my parents have now, is that forever kind of thing. Nothing can rattle it or break it. That’s what I want. And I’m not going to make a vow to God to love, honor and obey, unless I can truly mean it.”
One corner of her mouth slowly curved upward. “Why, Brady, I never suspected you of being such an old-fashioned sort of guy.”
Her arms were sliding around his waist, her warm little body leaning into his and that in itself was enough to put a smile on his face. “Is that what you call it? Mom calls it being too particular,” he said, then brushing his knuckles against her cheek, he added thickly, “But I’m beginning to think you’re absolutely perfect—for me.”
“Oh, Brady, I—”
“Shh. Let’s not waste any more of this night talking,” he gently interrupted. “Morning will be here soon enough.”
Apparently, she agreed with him. Without another word, she rose on tiptoes and fastened her mouth over his. And as desire for her began to burn all over again, Brady was content to let his mind go blank and ignore the restless questions in his heart.
The next morning, Brady had to be at work early, but thankfully not as early as most mornings when he headed to Carrizozo long before daylight. When the alarm finally jolted him awake, he expected to see Lass’s head on the pillow next to his. Instead, he found himself alone with nothing but memories of the love they’d made in his bed.
The fact that she’d chosen to leave him sometime while he was asleep, stung him a bit. He’d thought their night together had changed everything. He’d thought she’d grown as close to him as he had to her. Maybe he’d presumed too much.
Rolling to his side, he wiped a hand over his face and told himself he was becoming downright maudlin. He couldn’t expect Lass to simply stay in his room all night, then go down to breakfast together as though they were a married couple. She had more respect for herself and his family than that. And he had more respect for her than that.
So what do you want, Brady? For her to be your wife? Do you want the right to have her in your bed, your life for always? Is she that woman you’ve been searching for?
Always. Always was a long time, Brady mused, as he pushed himself out of bed and walked toward his private bathroom. Would having only one woman in his life get boring? Would he regret not being able to play the field?
Something made him suddenly stop in the middle of the room and gaze back at the bed he’d shared with Lass. Nothing about Lass could ever be boring. Even if she was gray and wrinkled he would want her. Love her.
Yes, he could admit it to himself now. But saying those words to Lass were quite another thing. Her past might have already promised her future to someone else. And if that turned out to be the case, what would he do? What could he do?
After a quick shower, he hurried down to the kitchen in hopes of catching Lass before she left with Dallas to work at the riding stables. But when he reached the kitchen, Conall was the only person he found.
Of the three Donovan brothers, Conall was the enigmatic one. With hair as dark as their mother’s and eyes as green as an Irish shamrock, he was a handsome devil. Or at least he would be, Brady thought, if he’d find it in himself to smile as though he was enjoying life. But with a natural head for business, that side of the ranch had been handed over to him and with the job came heavy responsibilities. Brady couldn’t remember the last time Conall had taken time off for himself or left the ranch for anything more than business.
Dressed in a starched white shirt and dark tie, Conall was sitting at a small breakfast bar located at the end of the cabinets, nursing a cup of coffee and rifling through the Lincoln County News when Brady walked into the room.
At the sound of his footsteps, Conall peered over the top of the newspaper, “You’re getting around late this morning, aren’t you?”
“Not exactly,” Brady explained. “Yesterday my schedule changed a bit and I have to work later.”
He poured himself a cup of coffee, then peered at the breakfast food that Opal had left in the warming drawer. The eggs and bacon still looked fresh so he helped himself to a plate full, then carried the meal over to a table situated near a sliding plate glass door. Beyond it, he could see his grandmother trimming her roses. The sight comforted him.
“Where is everyone?” he asked.
“In everyone, you mean Lass?”
The faint sarcasm in Conall’s voice jerked Brady’s head up and he stared sharply at his brother. “Okay, have you seen Lass this morning?”
“She and Dallas have already left for the stables. You should have gotten up earlier if you’d planned on kissing her goodbye.”
Brady’s jaw tightened. He and Conall had always been as different as daylight and dark, but they normally got along well. He didn’t know why his brother was being so testy this morning, but he was hardly in the mood for it.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Laying the paper to one side, his brother looked squarely at him. “Oh, come on, Brady, the whole family can see you’ve fallen for the girl. What have you done, turned into some sort of idiot?”
Falling in love with Lass made him an idiot? For an instance, Brady reverted to his childhood and wanted to jump up from the table and wrench Conall’s arm around his back and twist until his brother took back every word he’d just said. But the days where they’d physically fought had ended years ago. Now that they were grown men, they had to fight with words.
“I ought to knock your damned head off for that,” Brady muttered.
Unperturbed, Conall grimaced. “Why get mad just because I struck a nerve? I’m only trying to point out that you’re making a mistake.”
Even if he’d been starving, at that moment Brady couldn’t have wedged a bite of food between his gritted teeth. “Oh, you’re an authority on women now? That’s a laugh.” He jerked up his coffee cup and brought it halfway to his mouth. “Sometimes you’re a real bastard, Conall.”
Leaving the bar stool, his brother walked over to the small table, jerked out a chair and sank into it.
“Maybe I am a bastard,” Conall said in deceptively soft voice, “but I’m just trying to keep you from being hurt.”
“Like you?” Brady retorted.
“That’s a low blow.”
It was a low blow and the realization helped Brady put a lid on his rising temper. He shouldn’t have let Conall’s remarks get to him. But these past few days he’d been torn between his search for Lass’s identity and his growing feelings for her. He was walking a tightrope and his nerves were raw from the strain. Wiping a hand over his face, he said, “I shouldn’t have said that. But Lass is…important to me.”
“That’s the whole point,” Conall replied. “You don’t know who she is or where she came from. She could be carrying all sorts of trouble or baggage that you don’t yet know about. Is that the sort of woman you want to bring into our family?”
At one time, Conall himself had brought a fairly disturbed woman into the family. But Brady wasn’t going to point that out. He’d already suffered enough without him bringing up the subject of Conall’s ex-wife.
“Lass is a good person. I don’t have to run a police check on her to know that.”
Rising to his feet, Conall shrugged. “I don’t know what the hell I’m worrying about this for. Y
ou’ve never stayed interested in one woman for more than a week or two. Lass will be no different.”
Like hell, Brady thought.
Forcing his attention to his plate, he shoveled up a fork full of eggs. “This is one time, big brother, you need to mind your own business.”
Without another word, Conall turned and left the room.
For the next four days, Brady was relegated to working the night shift. Which meant he left the ranch while Lass was working at the stables and didn’t return home until the middle of the night. She’d talked to him on the phone, but those conversations had been brief and while she’d been in the company of the stables staff. So she’d had little chance to say anything personal, like how much she was missing him, how much she was aching to have his arms back around her. But he’d let her know he’d not forgotten her or their night together. One evening she’d found a fresh flower on her pillow and last evening he’d left a gift wrapped box on her nightstand. Inside had been an ivory lace shawl with a short note telling her the gift was meant to keep her warm until he could wrap his arms around here once again.
She was totally and utterly besotted with the man and these last few days without him had only underscored how empty her life would be without him. The realization was weighing on her, adding to the confusion that continued to swirl through her mind.
Images of her past were coming to her more frequently now and the sights and sounds had grown intense and frightening. Out of the blue, flashes of that day at the Ruidoso track had been striking her, filling her with a sense of unease and then downright horror.
David. It was a man named David who’d been kissing her against her will, shoving her into a car, then chasing her into the mountain ravine. Yet she still couldn’t put a last name to his face or what he’d meant to her past life. Then last night as she’d lain in bed, the image of her father had once again floated to the front of her mind. She’d not been able to focus directly on his face, but she’d known the big, towering figure was his. In the vision she’d been shouting at him, swearing that she never wanted to see him again. But why?
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