A Cowboy Christmas

by Janette Kenny

  He pinched his eyes shut and drew in a labored breath, then another. His fingers tightened around the cool brass knob so hard he felt the raised design branding itself in his palm.

  One more breath. Then another. He wasn’t a chicken-shit, but he sure as hell was acting like one now.

  He respected women. But he’d never ached to love a woman like he did Ellie.

  Damn his pride. He’d beg her if he had to, but he’d sate his lust this night.

  Reid wrenched open the door. And forgot to breath.

  For Ellie Jo Cade stood outside his door wrapped in lilac-scented shadows and seductive magnetism. She’d come to him, garbed in a simple wrapper that he ached to peel her out of.

  Restless energy hummed between them. He heard her swallow. Saw her timid smile and telltale shiver.

  “Well?” Her question whispered over his heated skin like a fingernail trailing down his spine.

  “You talk too much.”

  Reid slinked an arm around her narrow waist and hauled her in his room. As he eased the door shut with a barely discernible click, his mouth claimed hers.

  She tasted of mint and excitement, opening to him with a throaty groan that vibrated over his skin and arrowed to his crotch. Damn, he’d half expected his body’s explosive reaction to her, but he hadn’t considered she’d be a noisy lover.

  Hell, he hadn’t thought of much beyond his driving need to bury himself inside her. Now!

  He fumbled to twist the key in the lock with a hand that was all thumbs, then wrapped both arms around her and pulled her flush against him. He swallowed his own noisy groan as those twin nipples shot fire straight through his body.

  His cock jerked and his thinking blurred. Hanging on to rational thought was nigh as impossible as closing the barn door against a howling wind.

  He was almost there when she did some sort of gyration that had fireworks going off behind his eyes. His cock bucked like a just-lassoed mustang.

  “Oh, yes, yes, yes, yes,” she said on a reedy moan.

  Music to his ears. Seductive music.

  He’d have to keep kissing her to muffle those little sounds of pleasure that were bubbling up from her like champagne, popping in his blood and intoxicating him with her ardor. Had he ever been with a woman who was this passionate?

  Not that he could recall.

  He’d never let a woman get the better of him, but he was fast losing ground to this seductress.

  Another abnormality, for he’d been pleasured by high-priced women who knew all the tricks. He knew them all, and prided himself on his ability to keep a cool head while he pleasured a woman.

  He never lost control until he spewed his seed. Soon as he’d recovered from attaining his release, he took charge of the situation again. Always.

  Except with Ellie.

  With her everything was different. Everything was new. Everything was perfect.

  He backed her toward the bed and worked a hand between their fused bodies, pausing once to let his mouth love hers. If he didn’t get her naked and under him soon he’d go off for sure.

  A long sultry moan burst from her and bounced off the walls.

  “Shhh.”

  “Shhh,” she repeated against his lips, and the buzz of that touch raced from his mouth to the throbbing end of his cock.

  Shit, he was going to blow his head. Too soon. He dragged in a shaky breath that smelled of lilacs and hot need.

  Whoa up, cowboy. Your ride’s gonna be over before it starts if you don’t slow down.

  But slowing down seemed to be the farthest thing from Ellie’s mind. It was up to him. What’d he been doing? Her buttons. Getting her naked. Keeping her quiet, or at least muffled so Hubert wasn’t privy to everything they did.

  “Where’s the fire?” he asked when he knew damned good and well flames were licking through his blood.

  “You talk too much.” As if to prove her point in tossing his words back at him, she darted her tongue in his mouth and kissed him until he quaked.

  Hot damn! He was going to die right here with the most god-awful aching hard-on he’d ever had in his life.

  He popped the last button off her wrapper and shoved the garment off her, raining kisses from her mouth to the high frilly collar of her nightgown. He’d never seduced a woman who was so primly dressed and so hot to handle.

  She was a perfect blend of cultured and naughty. Refined and wild. And she was his.

  His mouth trailed to her ear and down her neck where a pulse frantically hammered away. He could hear it drumming, or was that his blood pounding in his veins?

  He bunched her nightgown up her hips to her waist, grabbed her waist and hoisted her onto his big bed. But instead of shucking his clothes, he followed her down because she had two hands full of his shirt.

  But that was okay. He had her where he wanted her. In his bed, on her back, naked. Well, near naked.

  His big fingers fussed with the buttons on her gown, working one loose. Two. All the while those long legs of hers were wrapping around his hips and drawing him to the heat of her.

  His cock felt too full and tight. His nerves twanged like guitar strings that’d been plucked too hard. Raw need vibrated through him like a war cry.

  He forgot who was seducing who here. Hell, he didn’t care.

  That wasn’t like him. He tried to regain the control he’d lost the moment he dragged her into his arms. To hell with it.

  Sweat streaked his face and trekked down his back as he struggled to unbutton her damned nightgown. She had no such problems opening his shirt.

  That first whiff of cool air on his heated skin cleared his head. Not that it lasted. Her palms flattened on his bare chest and skimmed circles on his skin, creating friction sparks that surely could be seen in the darkness.

  He gritted his teeth and kept working the damned button, trying not to think how her hot mons rubbed his swollen cock each time she arched her back. He gave up getting her naked and tried to rip off his own clothes first.

  Her palms skimmed up his chest and her thumbs raked his nipples. A guttural moan burst from him.

  “Shhh,” she said on a wicked laugh.

  He couldn’t take the torment one second longer. He reared back and tore his shirt up and over his head, flinging it aside. Or trying to.

  One arm remained in a sleeve, but he could live with it. He freed the last tiny damned button on her gown and whisked it over her head.

  For one moment, he drank his fill of her beauty in the waning moonlight, of the eyes that sparked with desire and challenge. Of the generous bosom crested with pink nipples, rising and falling in desperation and begging for his hands and mouth.

  He bent to adore one globe just as her fingers skimmed the scar aside his head, her touch so light he almost didn’t feel it. He pushed the memory of getting shot from his mind and turned his attention back on the woman in his bed.

  Her hand drifted over his shoulder and hung on while the other closed over his cock. He bucked once, nearly coming in her hand.

  “Easy.”

  “I don’t want easy,” she whispered, leading him as easily as a stallion ready to rut a mare.

  That first touch of wet, hot woman jolted through him like lightning, swift and electric. Spasms rippled through him as she lifted her hips, seating him deeper.

  He held himself up on arms that trembled, wanting to sink into her slowly, savoring every inch.

  She had other ideas. Faster than he could blink, she wrapped those long legs around him and brought them together in a clap of thunder that made his ears pop.

  The fit was tight and perfect, like they were made for each other. A romantic notion he’d have laughed at before, but it was there before him, and the sense of oneness was just getting stronger the longer he stared into her big eyes.

  And then she smiled. A cat-licking-cream pleased smile. She had him by the balls and knew it.

  He rocked his hips and pushed all the way inside her. Her eyes rounded in surprise, and
he smiled down at her. Now who’s in control?

  Before he could savor that victory, her muscles tightened around his length and pulled at him. All the blood in his body rushed to his cock and a low groan rumbled from him.

  Her eyes glazed with lust, her lips flushed and parted in surrender, her breath coming hard and fast as she moved and shifted and drove him mad with want. He knew instinctively that this was the calm before one helluva storm that was about to crash over them.

  Some part of his brain that wasn’t fogged by lust told him to kiss her and keep kissing her. Their mouths fused in hungry abandon as their bodies bucked and arched in a frenzied rhythm. To hell with finesse and control. She was giving as good as she got, and he was damned lucky just to hang on this long and enjoy the ride of a lifetime.

  Knowing he couldn’t last long enough to give her pleasure, he reached between them. Before his fingers grazed the damp hair where they joined, she stiffened and let out a keening wail that would’ve awakened everyone in the house and bunkhouse if he hadn’t swallowed the sound.

  Damned good thing too, because those spasms exploding in her pushed him over the edge. His own hoarse groan ripped from his mouth and into her. On and on…

  With his desire and good sense spent, he had barely enough strength left to roll to his side. He smiled and gathered her close. Satisfied. Replete. Complete.

  That last feeling scared the shit out of him. But now that he’d had her, he wasn’t about to ever let her go.

  Chapter 19

  Hubert greeted Ellie with a smile and a cup of coffee the second she stepped into the kitchen. “Did you sleep well?”

  Ellie damned her telling flush. She took the coffee, walked to the table and sat. Gingerly.

  “I rested well last night.” After she’d spent herself making love with Reid—not once, but three times.

  She pressed both palms to her overly hot cheeks. Thank God she’d gone to his room, for her room was nearly directly above Hubert’s. There’d be no denying what happened then.

  “As tomorrow is Christmas, I took the liberty of fetching the turkey from the meat locker and placing it in the roasting pan in the pantry,” he said.

  “Thank you for remembering.”

  She’d totally forgotten she had to thaw the bird before she could stuff it. But cooking was the last thing on her mind.

  After putting bacon on to fry, she grabbed her wrapper and hurried out to the meat locker.

  All she thought about was the long night of making love with Reid Barclay. She’d never imagined it could be that wonderful. Or addictive.

  She couldn’t stop smiling as she slipped into the dining room to ready the table for breakfast, only to find that Hubert had done that as well.

  She turned to leave when Reid’s voice echoed from the adjacent office. “You’re sure he didn’t board the train?”

  “Positive, Mr. Barclay,” a man said, his voice unfamiliar.

  “Very well. Thanks for letting me know and for bringing this telegram right out.”

  “You’re welcome, sir.”

  She waited until the man left before turning to hurry back to the kitchen. But Reid’s curse stopped her before she’d taken two steps. What in the world had happened now?

  “Alert the men to be on guard,” Reid said. “God knows what Erston will get in his head to do.”

  “I’ll step up watch on the horses, too,” Shane said.

  “Damn right,” Reid said, a spate of silence keeping time with her too-rapid heartbeat before she heard him let out a relieved sigh. “Fitzmeyer is on his way out to look at the horses. If they meet the confirmation of his standards, he’ll offer for them.”

  “That’s damn good news, Slim.”

  No! Ellie froze, not believing her ears. She couldn’t have heard right. Shane couldn’t have called him Slim.

  But all the denying in the world wouldn’t change the truth.

  “Arlen ever mention that he’d witnessed the shooting in Laramie?” Reid asked.

  “Nope,” Shane said. “Never acted like he equated you with Slim. ’Course, most the hands working here now don’t know your nickname. After you left, Kirby insisted we call you Reid, but I’ll admit I forget at times.”

  “So do I.”

  Shane laughed. “Well, you sure as hell don’t look the same.”

  “Amazing how a haircut and a few extra pounds can change a man,” Reid said.

  Ellie could attest to that, for she hadn’t recognized her pa right off. Her pa. Good heavens, what would he do when she told him about Reid?

  She just stood in the dining room, rooted to the spot, filled with a sense of disgust and dread and heartache that made her want to vomit. She’d found Slim Cullen.

  The man who killed poor Lisa True.

  The man who walked off scot-free while her pa took the blame.

  The man who she’d lost her heart to.

  All her fanciful dreams withered before her eyes. She wanted nothing to do with the cowboy who’d murdered a woman. How could she have misjudged this man so? Surely if he was a killer, she’d see evidence of his cruelty. That possibility that she was mistaken gave her hope.

  She couldn’t equate the killer she’d read about with the kind, gentle man who’d helped guide a foal into this world. She couldn’t believe the man who’d loved her tenderly throughout the night had gunned down a woman.

  Yet Reid was Slim, the man her pa had come here to settle a score with.

  If she held her secret, her pa would end up running for the rest of his life. He’d never find a moment’s peace with such a high bounty on his head. He’d likely hang for a murder he didn’t commit.

  If she told her pa, he’d likely shoot Reid on the spot.

  She hugged herself and stole back into the kitchen, careful not to make a sound. What to do? What the hell was she going to do?

  The opening of the backdoor interrupted her fretting, but only for an instant. A moment later her pa ambled into the kitchen, bundled up against the cold with a cloth sack slung over one shoulder.

  She stared at the jolly old man in front of her until the fog in her head cleared. Not Santa Claus but her pa. An outlaw sure to hang if he was caught.

  “Bagged a couple of fat rabbits late yesterday.” He laid the sack on the table and helped himself to the coffee.

  She looked from him to the bag, touched by his kindness, torn by indecision. This was her pa. The man she’d come here to talk out of making a grave error. The father she’d longed to spend one wonderful Christmas with before she moved to California and a new life.

  But how could she do that now and keep the truth from him?

  “What’s ailing you, Ellie Jo?” her pa asked. “You look like you’ve just lost your best friend.”

  No, just the love of her life.

  She didn’t dare speak for fear she’d start bawling as much from anger as heartbreak. So she focused on the injustice of it all in hopes her torment would ease some.

  While her pa had spent the past two years ducking the law, Reid was living in England, free from worry, because her pa took the blame for the murder he’d committed.

  Now, Reid had returned to the West under his given name, no doubt confident that nobody would recognize him. And even if they did, he’d been dismissed of the charges.

  Nobody was after him but her pa. He was looking for a rangy cowpoke, not the muscular rancher Reid Barclay had become. But he couldn’t hide the scar that her pa had remembered seeing, albeit it was at his temple instead of his cheek. And his eyes were so dark a blue they were nearly black at times.

  Those were easy enough mistakes to make from a distance. Why, she hadn’t even noticed Reid’s scar until last night when they were wrapped in each other’s arms.

  This time she couldn’t stifle the tormented groan that tore from her.

  “Ellie Jo? What’s wrong?” her pa asked, his big hands closing over her trembling shoulders. “You’re scaring me, girl.”

  She was scaring he
rself. Up until this morning, her plans had been so cut and dried. And now?

  Now all she had to do was tell her pa that Reid was Slim Cullen. But she just couldn’t do it. For no matter what she did, she’d likely make a decision she was going to regret.

  Oh, God, she was going to be sick.

  “I’m a bit under the weather,” she said at last, and smiled into his worried eyes. “Nothing for you to concern yourself with.”

  Furrows marched across his wide brow. “You having one of those woman things?”

  If it were only that simple. “Just a stomach complaint.”

  “I’ve got just the thing.” He bustled into the pantry as if he knew his way around.

  Ellie slumped on a chair, needled with more guilt for lying about her upset stomach. Oh, it was churning, but the cause was nerves.

  They certainly weren’t about to calm anytime soon, for if she did what was right by her pa, Reid would suffer. If she followed her heart and pretended she didn’t know Reid was Slim Cullen, her pa would never gain the vengeance he sought.

  The decision should be simple.

  Slim Cullen shot down a young woman in the street.

  Blood was thicker than water.

  But for the life of her, she couldn’t imagine Reid Barclay was a cold-blooded killer anymore than she believed it of her pa.

  Her pa returned to pour hot water in a cup. He set it before her. “This here will set you straight.”

  She took a sniff but couldn’t recognize the spice. “What is it?”

  “Sweet flag tea,” he said. “You’ve been drinking it since you was a little tyke.”

  She smiled, remembering how her mother would filch a few of the wild iris roots she’d dug so she could grind them for sachets. But she didn’t recall the effects of the tea.

  “Go on and drink it down while it’s hot,” he said.

  “Is this a purgative?”

  “Nope, it’ll just calm your innards.”

  Ellie took a cautious sip. Warmth that had nothing to do with the temperature of the tea danced over her tongue.

  She finished the brew with her pa watching and handed him the cup. “Thank you.”

  “No need to. If that doesn’t help, you just holler and I’ll fix you another cup.”