Summer Rose

by Bonnie K. Winn

  When he pulled her closer, the feelings were even more intense than she remembered. Caution fled as she melted against the heat of his chest, savoring the feel of him. Violet eyes locked with golden-green ones and darkened as their passion spoke silently, eloquently. Their lips met in mutual accord, mutual delight.

  Shane might have expected surrender, but not this. Not the giving, the wanting, the passion. He read her desire, felt her quiver of anticipation, and found himself drowning in her sweetness as she sighed his name. He promised himself that he would remain in control.

  But at her growing boldness, he found himself plundering that same sweetness, tasting, feeling, drowning. His hands seemed to move with a will of their own, caressing her silken tresses as he pulled them free of their confining pins, while his lips recaptured hers and then trailed down her neck.

  He found himself lost in the fragile hollows of her throat as he pushed aside the confining buttons of her bodice, seeking her proud, uplifted breasts. Through the thin, silken confines of her chemise she responded to his touch, arching upward with a small moan as he tantalized the flesh beneath his fingers.

  Six tiny fastenings stood between him and the hot flesh beneath the flimsy garment. One by one, he slipped each small button free, hearing her tiny gasps of pleasure as each opened and the air nipped her exposed skin. Almost reverently he laid back the delicate material, his fantasies materializing as he gazed at the creamy flesh that glowed in the afternoon sun. His fingers reached out to touch the tips—dusky pink as he’d remembered them—and she responded immediately.

  He ground his lips against hers, his tongue spearing into her mouth, demanding and receiving an immediate response. Each thrust triggered a new onslaught of intensity. Then with a passion he couldn’t restrain, his mouth left hers to kiss her exposed flesh, finally tugging gently at the soft nipples, feeling them harden beneath his tongue. His own hardness nestled against the juncture of her legs, urging the heated mound of her flesh to respond.

  She writhed under his touch, her face flushed with pleasure. And as never before, he found himself trembling with the wanting of her. It seared his mind as he held her captive in his arms. As reason fled, he wondered if the wanting scorched his heart and if he could stand the consequences.

  When he finally drew back, Cassie read the uncertainty that clashed with desire in Shane’s eyes. She knew she had already transgressed all bounds with him, but somehow it hadn’t mattered. The fire he’d created refused to be doused. The center of her womanhood throbbed with a longing she wanted him to satisfy.

  Breathing raggedly and still only inches apart from her, Shane took her face in his hands and looked deeply into her eyes. She could see the searching, the unspoken questions, but as she opened her lips to ask, Shane silenced her effectively.

  Suddenly impatient, Cassie pulled open Shane’s shirt, burying her hands in the silky hair matting his chest, thrilled as his naked skin came into contact with hers.

  Her impatience transferred itself to Shane. Urgency replaced the gentle discovery they’d both felt the first time. Cassie shuddered as Shane grasped her skirts, bunching them out of the way. Impatiently he tore loose the fastening that closed her pantalets. Cassie kicked away the restraining garment, as eager for his touch as he was.

  Pulling at his denims, she ran her hands over the sleek flanks of his hips. Soon his clothing, too, was shed.

  She arched upward when his hands grasped her buttocks, massaging them firmly as he positioned himself above her.

  This time there was no hesitation, no question. Shane took possession like a warrior on a quest. Her response was to wrap her legs around his, reveling in the primal dance. The grass and wildflowers blanketed their glistening bodies as each thrust was met, parried, returned.

  Cassie felt Shane shudder as her own body shimmered in a volcano of tremors. Only the sound of their gasping breaths filled the air. Cassie gulped the sweet air, wondering at her own abandon. Wondering, too, if Shane’s feelings matched hers. As they eased away from one another, she felt no regret for her desire.

  Like wary gladiators, each appraised the other. Skin damp, chests heaving, they waited. Ever so slowly, Shane skimmed his hand over the contours of her face. His hand cupped the back of her neck, bringing her close. The kiss was both brief and bittersweet.

  As Shane shakily refastened the buttons on her bodice, Cassie studied the man beside her, swallowing a growing lump in her throat.

  He’d not asked her to decide between her land and him. She was grateful because, gazing into his mercurial eyes, she had little doubt what her decision might have been.

  22

  Cassie strolled down the dusty, wooden boardwalk of Keenonburg’s main street, surveying the scant selection of merchandise in the windows of the half-dozen stores the town boasted. The saddlery displayed hand-tooled Mexican saddles and buckskin chaps that didn’t hold her interest. The grain store wasn’t any more alluring with its collection of cattle and chicken feed.

  Strolling further down the road, Cassie barely paused at the barbershop, but she did peek into the windows of the apothecary. One glance at the dusty, jewel-toned bottles was sufficient. She looked up as the family coming toward her crossed to the other side of the street to avoid her. She took a deep breath and tried to ignore the spurt of pain that the continued rejection caused.

  Knowing she couldn’t avoid seeing people any longer, Cassie picked up the hem of her calico skirt, crossed the dust-filled street, and entered the mercantile, inhaling its unique aroma of vinegar, beeswax, and packing crates. Since the day Mr. Peabody had delivered her supplies, Cassie hadn’t been given any trouble about buying what she needed, but no one was any friendlier.

  When she entered the store, Cassie noted with amusement that Millicent was fingering a bolt of ivory satin material that she couldn’t possibly be considering for curtains. Cassie wondered, with an inner smile, about Millicent’s protests that her relationship with Ringer was one of friendship only.

  Cassie picked up a bolt of emerald-green silk, knowing she couldn’t afford to buy it, yet picturing herself in a sweeping gown of the luxurious fabric. Closing her eyes, she could picture Shane’s reaction. She could almost see Shane’s face, his eyes darkening in appreciation, his…

  “Thinking of making breeches out of silk, Miz Dalton?”

  Jacob Robertson’s mocking voice penetrated her fantasy, and Cassie’s eyes flew open in shock.

  “Or were you thinking of Mr. Lancer?”

  The truth sent a burning wave of humiliation through Cassie’s body, visibly staining her cheeks, while her anger asserted itself.

  Jacob’s dark eyes glittered with rage. Cassie felt a renewed quiver of fear dart through her as she remembered how menacing he’d seemed that day in her barn. He glanced around at the three men who lounged behind him, and seemed to gain encouragement from their presence.

  “Mebbe you could come to the saloon and gimme a taste of what you been sharin’ with Lancer,” Robertson suggested with a leer.

  A bolt of revulsion shot through her, and Cassie took an involuntary step backward. Had Shane been boasting about the frustrated spinster who’d tumbled into his arms?

  “Maybe you ought to go home and share some of your ideas with your wife, Robertson. Or has she already thrown you out of her bed?” Belva’s booming voice came from over Cassie’s shoulder.

  The men behind Robertson snickered, and he flushed heatedly. Before turning away, he sent Cassie a glare of pure hatred.

  “Don’t think this’ll be the last of it, missy. Your uncle thought he’d be around a while too. Guess you Daltons still have a lot to learn.”

  Robertson’s words sent prickles of fear up her spine. Your uncle thought he’d be around a while too. What did he know? Cassie shook fearfully as Jacob left, his supporters trailing behind him. Turning to Belva, Cassie tried to convey her thanks.

  “Think nothin’ of it, child. Robertson’s all mouth and then only when he’s got his friends b
acking him up.” Belva landed an affectionate thwack behind Cassie’s shoulders. “Buck up. You’re not gonna let the likes of him take the wind out of you, are you?”

  Cassie swallowed hard, appreciating Belva’s support. She wished she could dismiss the fear as easily.

  “No, Belva. I’m not.” Cassie held up the bolt of green silk, hoping to disguise her inward shaking. “Besides, this might make rather fetching breeches.”

  Belva laughed in return. “That’s the spirit, girl!”

  Millicent hovered nearby, and Cassie could sense the tangible pull of her concern.

  “Come on, Milly,” Cassie said, gathering her courage and trying to shut out the ugly suspicions Robertson’s words had raised. “I’d like to see that satin you were looking at. Although it certainly would make peculiar curtains,” she teased.

  Millicent blushed crimson in response, and Cassie knew she’d been diverted for the moment. They spent more than an hour gathering their supplies before emerging from the store into the bright sunlight of the boardwalk.

  Millicent adjusted her ribbon-trimmed hat and spotless white gloves. “Shall we head for home, Cassie?”

  “I’m ready if—” Her last words were cut off as a man’s resonant voice overrode her murmur.

  “Good day, ladies.” Evan Lancer tipped his Stetson politely to them both, but his eyes remained fixed on Cassie’s, his interest evident.

  They nodded in return and greeted him in unison. “Good day, Evan.”

  “Let me carry those packages for you, ladies,” he offered. taking the neatly wrapped, string-tied bundles before the women could protest.

  “That’s very kind of you, sir,” Millicent murmured.

  “And now, ladies, your carriage?”

  “I’m afraid that our ‘carriage’ is still a buckboard,” Cassie answered, leading the way along the dusty walkway. She’d been trying to discourage Evan’s interest, but he was still a frequent visitor to the ranch, having taken Andrew under his wing. Whenever possible, Evan took both Andrew and Zack Robertson fishing, a diversion all three seemed to enjoy.

  Cassie knew Evan’s crush was harmless, but she sensed that Shane would not be pleased to have him following her around like a well-trained lap dog.

  Not hurting Shane was becoming increasingly important, she realized with an uncomfortable start. When had she begun to feel this ridiculously protective urge? She’d grudgingly realized the attraction, reluctantly recognized her own treacherous need, and blushingly acknowledged the passion, but when had they melded to a point beyond?

  The trio reached the buckboard, and Evan loaded their parcels into the back, then assisted Cassie and Millicent onto the high planked seat.

  “Thank you for your help, Evan,” Cassie began.

  Evan whisked his hat off and held it nervously between both hands. “No trouble a’tall, ma’am.” He seemed to hesitate and then blurted out, “I was wondering if you might be coming to Charles and Effie Lou’s engagement dance next Saturday night?”

  Cassie smiled at his slightly flushed face. “I’m not sure, Evan, but if we do, I’ll be looking forward to seeing you.”

  She then rewarded him with a dazzling smile. Before he realized that she’d not agreed to let him be her escort, Cassie slapped the reins smartly, urging the team of horses forward. As they moved forward, Cassie allowed herself a glance at Millicent. She expected at least a sly wink and a chuckle but was surprised to see a gentle smile on Millicent’s face. “You handled that real well, partner.”

  23

  Millicent stood next to the bawling sheep as Cassie read aloud from one of her texts:

  “‘Proper castration promotes less disease and fighting for supremacy in non-breeding stock. It also insures a more profitable flock if only the more desirable rams are used for breeding.’”

  As Cassie finished, Millicent leveled a look that would have stopped one of her former students dead in his tracks from fifty feet away.

  “If you think I’m going to do that, you are crazy.”

  “Well, one of us has to,” Cassie answered, paling as she studied the explicit diagram.

  “Don’t look at me.”

  “I don’t want to do it, either.” Cassie turned the pages, hoping for better news that wasn’t forthcoming.

  “If you think I’m going to touch…” Millicent began.

  “Milly!”

  “Did you think they’d just fall off on their own?”

  “Well, no…” Cassie gazed doubtfully at the sheep.

  “Count me out.” Millicent started to back away.

  “Milly, it says—”

  “Well, how do we know he’ll feel better? It doesn’t sound like he’d feel better.”

  Cassie’s stomach turned at the thought. If possible, her skin turned an even more sickly shade of green. “It doesn’t say that—just that he’s less likely to get sick.”

  “Maybe he’d rather get sick and live a full life. What’s to say he won’t get lovesick instead?”

  “We’re supposed to be concerned with breeding a flock that—”

  “And what if we do it wrong?”

  Cassie blanched. She’d never thought of that. None of this had seemed so graphic back in Boston when she was reading about it.

  Millicent continued. “I say let him keep what God gave him.”

  They both stared at the spooked ram. His eyes did seem to be pleading…

  “Oh, geez, Milly. I guess we’ll have to let him go.” Cassie laid down her opened book. “Even if his lambs turn out to be purple, I guess I can live better with that than—”

  Cassie stopped abruptly as she and Millicent froze. They’d both heard the unmistakable sound of approaching hooves—close. Too close. The last thing they needed to be was the talk of the range because they were too faint-hearted to carry out normal ranching duties.

  Cassie scrambled to untie the sheep, but she wasn’t fast enough. Shane’s chuckle told her he’d seen enough. Too much.

  “You ladies planning on doing some branding?” he asked in mock innocence, his eyes sweeping the corral. Cassie was painfully aware that no branding tools were in sight.

  Cassie and Millicent glanced at one another, and between them could only manage a splutter.

  Shane dismounted and leaned over the lassoed animal. Squatting, he retrieved the book that was turned to the incriminating pages.

  Cassie tried to grab the book, but he held it up out of her reach. He looked at the book, then at the bound sheep, and shook his head.

  “Problems, ladies?”

  Cassie tried to appear nonchalant. “Of course not.”

  “Then why were you untying him?”

  Both women stared around the corral, but neither could think of a reply.

  “Couldn’t be you’re scared?”

  “What’s there to be scared of?” Cassie bluffed, while Millicent rolled her eyes.

  “Then it was too indelicate…”

  Cassie knew she could hardly call herself a rancher and then be too squeamish to perform the necessary duties. Whatever had truly riled the townspeople, she didn’t intend to add to their disapproval.

  “We just hadn’t decided on a method,” Cassie improvised.

  “Ah—the methods. Which ones were you considering?”

  Damn him! He knew she didn’t know any methods. If she could just get her hands on that book…Was there more than one? “Oh, the usual ones,” Cassie finally answered, hoping her lame answer would end this interrogation.

  Shane lifted his eyebrows a fraction and controlled the twitching that threatened to shape his lips into a full-blown grin.

  “You want to tell me which ones those are?”

  No, dammit. I don’t! “Oh, you know.”

  “You mean cutting, tying…” He paused. “Biting.”

  She turned the alternatives over in her mind. Cutting, tying, biting. Biting! Surely he didn’t, couldn’t mean…She turned to Millicent, whose eyes were now even rounder than the sheep’s. B
oth women visibly paled.

  Cassie opened her mouth to reply and, for one of the few times in her life, found herself completely speechless. She turned again to Millicent, whose prickly humor seemed to have disappeared with Shane’s announcement.

  “Like me to give you a hand with the job?” Shane questioned.

  She thought of the methods he’d just suggested and wanted to gag. Millicent’s greenish hue told Cassie she was in agreement.

  “Oh, that’s all right. We really have a lot of other things that need to be done instead. We—”

  Before she could finish, Shane burst into unrestrained laughter. Cassie spluttered, flushed, and then spluttered some more. Finally she stood with hands on hips until he finished.

  Cassie’s eyes narrowed as she accused, “You made that all up!”

  “You sure? I thought you knew all the methods.”

  “You, you…You man!”

  “You’re sure? You don’t have your books mixed up? You been reading all those ones on sheep…”

  “Oohh!” Cassie advanced toward him as he backed off in simulated terror. “You did that on purpose! For your information, we can do the job perfectly well without you.”

  “Hmmpft!” Millicent issued loudly as both Cassie and Shane’s heads swung in her direction. “I don’t know about you, Cassie, but you can count me out. If I listen to any more of this, you’ll have to peel me off the ground.”

  Feeling a little deflated, Cassie watched as a very pale Millicent turned toward the house.

  “You were saying?” Shane questioned.

  “I’m perfectly capable of doing it on my own,” she responded, nibbling furiously on her bottom lip.

  Shane’s eyes softened in spite of himself at her reaction. “Probably so, Cassie. Come on, you get me what I need, and I’ll take care of it.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, and he held up a hand.

  “I’m not doing this for nothing,” he warned. She stopped, watching him thoughtfully. “In exchange, you go with me to the dance Saturday.”