“Straddle me and then lean back against my knees so you won’t hurt your palms.”
She didn’t immediately move into action. She stared so long at his arousal, trapped so gently in her hand that he thought he’d embarrass himself from the enjoyment he got from her pleasure.
“I like you like this,” she informed him.
“You’ll like me a lot better in a minute.”
She chuckled and petted him. Actually petted him while he strained and jerked. She moved away, took off her pantaloons, and then, light as a feather, she straddled his hips. He curled his fingers around her ribs, supporting her. As if she’d been riding him all her life, she fell into position. With exquisite care, she settled on him, taking him in slow, delicate increments until he thought she might tear him apart.
She looked into his eyes. Her expression fierce. “You’re mine.”
He couldn’t believe it, but a laugh found its way through the searing pleasure. “No one here’s arguing.”
She repeated it again, a bit desperately. He wanted to respond, but she suddenly took his cock fully into the clenching grasp of her pussy, and his world narrowed to a tight, hot focus of building desire that allowed nothing but response to the woman who held him so close. She was in control and loving it. He could do nothing but surrender and glory in the wildness she denied having.
Chapter Nineteen
She felt like an intruder entering the office. Elizabeth hesitated, called herself a fool, and crossed the threshold. Book work needed to be done. Just because Asa had been much more eager to stay in bed since that afternoon two days ago, didn’t mean the rest of their problems had disappeared. As depressing as it would be, she needed to see exactly where the ranch was financially. And that meant she had to not only step one foot past the door, she had to go all the way into the room, seat herself at the desk, and finish what needed to be done.
As she opened the drapes on her way to the desk, she looked around. It was distinctly male terrain. It was all so familiar; the dark paneling, the ink-splattered leather blotter, the heavy desk, the big chair stationed so impressively behind it. First her father’s and now her husband’s, the study was a room designed to reflect power. She waited for the feeling of suffocation to swamp her as it usually did. She stared at the desk a good two minutes before she realized it wasn’t happening and why.
For the first time since she could remember, she didn’t see, in her mind, her father sitting in that big chair, a frown on his face, eager to hand out the list of today’s failures. Instead, she saw Asa’s image, half-smiling, patiently waiting while she stumbled through an explanation. Never rushing, never hurrying, simply waiting her out. The man was truly a magician. She didn’t think anyone could dispel her unease with this room, but he seemed to have done it.
She trailed her fingers over the desk. It was tan, smoothed by age and hard. Just like Asa. As she flipped open the ledger, she looked around the room with new eyes. Instead of seeing the past, she saw its potential. With some redecorating, the office could actually be a pleasant place. Maybe even pleasant enough that she’d consider seducing her husband here. Creating some nice memories would go a long way to shedding the old.
She shook her head over her licentious thoughts. She was turning into a scandal all right. She settled into the big wing-backed chair behind the desk. She closed her eyes and breathed in the scents of leather, man and ink.
She flipped open the ledger on the desk and ran her fingers down the entries. She was so lost in thought, she didn’t immediately recognize what she saw. When she did, she saw red. Not only was her husband the sexiest man in the territory, he was also one of the most conniving sons of a bitch she’d ever met.
A squeak of the wood floor jerked her eyes from the books. Asa stood in the door. Pale but resigned.
“You son of a bitch,” she said.
“You know?”
“Were you ever planning on telling me?”
“Not if I could help it,” he admitted.
“You lied to me.” She thought the pain would split her open like a ripe melon.
“I never lied to you.”
“You didn’t tell me we’re going to lose the ranch.”
“We’re not losing the ranch.”
“You didn’t tell me the bank didn’t extend our note.”
“I didn’t want to worry you.”
She sat as still as stone, feeling like she’d break apart inside. “You didn’t trust me.”
“Dammit, Elizabeth, you knew we were close to bankruptcy. That’s why you married me.”
“You said we were partners.”
“We are.”
“No, we’re not.” They could never be equals if he could keep something like this from her. “We’re nothing more than a man and his paramour.”
“If you don’t want your mouth washed out with soap, you’d better be watching your language.”
She looked at him. God, did he think he could scare her now? “Don’t you try and threaten me.”
“I never make threats.”
“No,” she agreed. “You don’t need to. You just spin fairy tales out of half-truths, and then, when you’re caught, you claim you never lied.” She stood slowly. Carefully. Not much of her dignity remained, but she was going to hold onto what she had left. She crossed the room until she was only two feet away from him. She tilted her head back until she could look into his eyes. Eyes that were storm gray, reflecting a determination she felt pulsing in her own veins.
“You had me,” she told him. “You had me cold. I believed everything you said and did. I thought you liked me as I am. I thought—God help me for my stupidity— that you respected me.” A hoarse laugh escaped before she could smother it. “My father was right. I am a fool.”
“Your father didn’t know squat.”
“He knew enough to know that a man would use my weakness against me.”
Asa crossed his arms over his chest. His splayed feet and broad shoulders blocked the doorway. His message was as clear as the anger on his face. She wasn’t going anywhere until he had his say. She settled her weight evenly between her feet and forced her arms to relax at her side. Two could play this game.
“Sure enough,” Asa said, “your father got you twisted up inside. To the point you’d marry two complete strangers to hold onto a piece of land you’d be better off selling and living off the proceeds, but you wouldn’t do that.”
“I made a promise.”
“Yeah. The kind of promise that lingers. The kind bound up tight with guilt and failure.” Her surprise must have shone through because he nodded his head. “Yeah. I’ve made a few of those myself. Back when I was a kid, lying in the alley, bloody from a beating, whining because no one ever told me ‘Welcome home.’ I made a promise to whatever God was listening, told him that, if he could see his way to getting me a home, a lady and a bit of respect to go with it, I’d do what I had to not to let him down in the meantime. I never thought anyone was listening, but then you came along and that promise was dropped in my lap.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Yeah, I know. You’re so busy tarring me with your father’s brush, you can’t credit me with common decency.”
She crossed her arms against her chest. “Now you’re saying it’s decent to lie?”
He snorted. “I’m saying I never thought you’d ride this mustang through to the finish, but I expected better than this.”
“You thought I’d be so bowled over by what you make me feel in bed that I’d overlook your highhandedness?”
He pushed away from the doorjamb. “I expected you to understand that I was trying to spare you this worry on top of all the others you’d taken on.”
“You didn’t think I’d want to know?”
“What difference would it have made?” he asked, pinning her with the truth. “What would you have done differently than I did?”
He waited, clearly expecting an answer, but she didn’t have one. She did
n’t know what she would have done differently. She didn’t even know what she was mad about. She just knew. “You should have told me.”
“So you said.” He motioned to the books. “I’ve got to see a man about a contract. You have a good look at the books, and when I get back, you can give me an earful about how else I’ve let you down.”
He spun on his heel. While she’d never seen the man do more than amble, today he stalked to the front door. Granted, he favored his right side due to his half-healed ribs, but he was the absolute picture of male outrage. Lord knows, she’d seen it enough to recognize it.
Something she didn’t initially recognize then registered as guilt pricked her conscience. How had she ended up the guilty one? The front door slammed. She crossed to the window and watched as Asa stormed toward the barn. The stupid man hadn’t even put on a coat. He got to the big oak in back and stopped, leaning against it for support.
She thought maybe his ribs were screaming, but then his shoulders, those broad shoulders she’d never seen anyway but squared, drooped. His head bowed. He took off his hat. She couldn’t see exactly what he was doing, but she’d seen him run his hand down his face enough times to recognize the gesture for what it was. Pain.
Unease tore her insides. The prickle of guilt developed claws. She’d hurt him. She’d honestly hurt the man. Oh God, more than she didn’t want the ability for him to hurt her, she didn’t want to be able to hurt him. Dammit! This was all his fault. If he’d trusted her. If he’d only told her the whole truth, she could have understood. She would have been fine. They could have faced it together.
But this was… She sighed as he pushed away from the tree. This was… She stopped and admitted the truth. This was totally in character for the man.
Come here.
How many times had he said that to her and then offered his shoulder as comfort? How many times, in their brief acquaintance, had he stepped between her and something he felt was a threat? Brent. Aaron. Millicent. He had shoulders as broad as the mountains that guarded her home. Since the day they’d met, he’d done nothing but use them to shield her. Heck, he scooped up problems and discarded them the way other men picked up stones. So why had she expected him to act any different when it came to bad news? He’d been upfront from the beginning that he thought ladies needed tender touches and gentle handling. Keeping bad news from her was nothing more than another protective gesture.
She bit her lip as he disappeared into the barn. No doubt he intended to ride Shameless to the railroad to get the contract. The ride would kill his ribs. Clint could handle the asking, but this was too important to the ranch for Asa to risk it to anyone else. He’d made her a promise. He clearly intended to keep it.
I never expected you to ride this mustang through to the finish.
What had he meant by that? He couldn’t mean he hadn’t expected her to keep to her end of their agreement. That didn’t make any sense. They were married. Something like that couldn’t just be set aside. She watched as Shameless trotted out of the barn, Asa on his back. She held her breath waiting—no, hoping—for a glance, but, without so much as a turn of his head, Asa rode out. She let the curtain drop back into place.
Oh Lord, she didn’t know what to feel inside. She was mad, confused and guilty. The ledger, lying open on the desk, beckoned. Maybe she’d find the road out of this mess in there. Maybe, when Asa got home, they could talk. If they couldn’t put this misunderstanding behind them, she could at least apologize. She crossed to the desk, sighed, flopped down in the chair and spun the ledger toward her. Son of a bitch, she was a fool.
* * * * *
Asa pulled up Shameless in front of the house just as dusk was falling. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d felt worse. And not because his ribs were screaming. That he could live with. The knowledge that he was failing Elizabeth, that was a whole different animal altogether. A big-clawed, ugly-toothed monster he couldn’t beat back.
Someone had gotten to the railroad. There was no earthly reason why they couldn’t take the cattle two weeks early. No reason for them to have changed their minds from yesterday to today, but they had. Irrefutably. No amount of reasoning or threats would change it. Lord above, he’d tried everything in his considerable repertoire. Shameless pawed the ground, anxious to get to the barn. Asa reined him in. He looked up at the mountains looming beyond the house.
“If y’all are planning to do some guarding, this would be the time to do it.”
The only answer he got was a storm cloud cresting the peak. It wasn’t a comforting sight. He looked around the ranch. It was a damned nice lay. He could understand the desperation Elizabeth’s pa had felt to hold onto it. He could never agree with what he’d done to Elizabeth. For that, he’d like to shoot him on sight, but he could understand what drove him. The same desperation festered in his own innards. Not for the land, though. He wouldn’t kill a man for land. He looked to the house where the lights burned bright and beckoning. For the loss of Elizabeth, he’d kill twenty men. That kind of pain was going to take some getting used to. Probably a lifetime.
She was never going to forgive him for not holding the ranch. She saw him as a hero, someone who could beat all the odds. Only this time, the deck was stacked against him. This time, he wasn’t going to pull it off. And when she learned the truth of it, she’d leave him eating her dust so fast, he’d be choking for a month of Sundays. He nudged Shameless into the barn. It had been sweet while it lasted, though. Mighty sweet.
He settled Shameless, then stood in the barn door and braced himself for the tongue-lashing awaiting him at the house. He deserved every angry word. He should have seen this coming earlier and taken more aggressive steps to halt it. Hunching his shoulders against the cold encroachment of night, he made his way to the kitchen door. Rich scents of dinner swept his way on an errant breeze. His stomach growled and his mouth watered. Damned, he was going to miss eating regular, too.
As soon as his boot hit the top step, the back door opened. He suppressed a groan. He’d been hoping she’d spend the evening avoiding him. He wasn’t in the mood for another argument. He should have known better. Elizabeth had a penchant for facing life head on.
“You’ve got to be freezing.”
As first words went, those weren’t the ones he thought he’d be hearing.
“I’m fine.”
Her hand went to his upper arm. “Come on in.”
He eyed her warily as he crossed the threshold. Like she’d done every day for the last six weeks, she took his hat and set it on the hook on the wall.
“Thank you.” What else could he say in the face of this concern that didn’t make sense?
“Supper’s ready. I hope you like chicken fricassee.”
He sat in the chair, but not before checking it unobtrusively to see if the legs were sabotaged. It was as solid as a rock. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
She placed a mouth-watering concoction in front of him. Two seconds later, she served herself. He’d watched her serve both, so that left out poisoning.
He applied himself to his meal like it was his last, ‘cause, sure as shooting, it was. He was halfway through his plate when he realized she was eating, too. Not picking at her food like he expected, seeing as the way they’d parted, but actually eating. And with enjoyment. He was so shocked, he stared.
She noticed. “Is something wrong?”
Not one for beating around the bush, he said, “You’re eating.”
“It’s supper time.”
“You never eat when you’re upset.”
“That’s true.”
“When I left here this afternoon, you were mad enough to have target practice with my heart.”
She took a delicate bite of chicken stew. Washed it down with some milk, and then took a bite of biscuit. He watched her. His gaze lingered on her lips. A predictable response started trickling through his body. Damn! The woman could heat his blood just by eating.
She ran her tongue over her lips,
scooping crumbs and butter as she went. The trickle of desire roared into a flood. He dragged his gaze from her lips and found her staring at him. In her eyes, there was humor, knowledge, and something softer he couldn’t name. When she finally deigned to answer him, her response cleared up nothing. “I admit I was mad this morning, but you’re overreacting. I was thinking more along the lines of buckshot in your posterior.”
God help him, he could picture it—her with a shotgun and him with a stinging butt. “Buckshot, huh?”
“I wanted to make a dent in your arrogance.”
“And you figure I keep my arrogance in my hindquarters?”
She shrugged. “It seemed as likely a spot as any.”
“I’m going to miss your sense of humor, darlin’.”
“You’re admitting I have one, finally?”
“I’ve always known you have one. It’s just been a darn shame the care you have of it.”
She answered his smile with a sigh. “I admit I wasn’t the best of wives for a while.”
“You came along just fine,” he answered, as serious as she was.
“I was thinking while you were gone.”
“That when you came up with the buckshot plan?”
She shook her head and motioned for him to eat. “No. That’s when I realized how unreasonable I’ve been.”
“You, darlin’?”
“Don’t go teasing, Asa.”
“I am serious here.”
Promises Linger (Promise Series) Page 31
