Scandal with the Rancher
Page 15
It would have to be enough.
Marguerite threw herself into the morning routine, waiting on some of the regular customers who came early to buy supplies, and slipping out to bring back pie and coffee from the hotel, a service that had proved popular with ranchers riding in from distant spreads. She’d gradually rearranged most of the mercantile, and having a boutique area for the ladies had already increased sales of bonnets and gloves.
She was entering purchases in the ledger just before noon when the entry bell jingled. Putting on a smile, she looked up—and the breath whooshed out of her like a balloon pricked by a pin.
There, on the threshold, stood Ronan Kelly.
He looked freshly bathed and shaved, and she could just catch the scent of his shaving soap. He wore a smart new suit—they must stock some like it in the store, she thought absently—with a pristine shirt and string tie.
His vital, commanding presence filled the space, knocking out of her head every thought but her need for him. She wanted to throw herself at him, drag him into the office, tear off his fancy new duds, and lose herself in the heat and pleasure of his embrace.
The memory of their last encounter stopped her after she’d taken two steps. A wave of embarrassment heated her face as she halted, trying to reassemble her scattered wits and say something to smooth over the awkward pause. Which was made no easier by realizing he was staring at her as hungrily as she’d been eying him.
“M-Mr. Kelly,” she managed at last. “I hope you had a good trip.”
“Mrs. McMasters,” he said, giving her that smile that warmed her to her toes. “My very dear Mrs. McMasters. Yes, the trip was profitable, the most profitable of my life, I’m hoping.”
“The, ah, new inventory—you’ve had that shipped?”
He nodded. “I wanted to ride back rather than drive a wagon, so I could get here faster. Della tells me you’re closing early, to go out to your ranch?”
“Yes. Sir. If that’s all right with you.” Goodness, she hated feeling so awkward around him! Desperately she tried to recapture the easy camaraderie they had always shared.
A camaraderie that had, and still did, carry a simmering undercurrent of desire.
Maybe it wasn’t impossible that she take him as her lover. That would be better than nothing, wouldn’t it? She’d have those intimate memories to cherish once he moved on, as he certainly would.
Maybe today, at the ranch? Her fingers trembled and her body ignited at the thought. But it wasn’t smart to make so irrevocable a decision when she was upset and uncertain, she tried to caution her rebellious senses.
Before she could order her thoughts, he said, “I don’t mind at all. In fact, if it’s all right, I’d like to accompany you.”
All the reasons why that wouldn’t be a good idea were washed away in the flash flood of her need for him. “I’d like that,” she heard herself say.
“It’s a fine day, with summer coming on. Why don’t we leave now, before the sun gets too hot?”
“But the shop—the customers—”
“Folks will understand about the store being closed. Jesse used to take afternoons off to fish.”
The little bit of will she’d gathered to resist him crumbled. “All right. I’ll have to get a horse from the livery first.”
“Got one outside,” he said. “We can leave as soon as you lock up.”
She took a deep breath and willed herself to say it. “Before we go, I do want to apologize. You were kind enough—”
“No, no, you needn’t apologize. Let’s just forget everything about that...incident, shall we? A truly fine day it is, and I don’t want to spoil it with regrets.”
A little deflated that he’d apparently put behind him so easily what had occupied all her waking thoughts since he’d stepped out that door two weeks ago, she said, “Very well. Let me lock up.”
Though he was careful not to touch her as he walked her to the waiting horse, a tingling awareness of him at her elbow heightened all her senses. Did she dare try to seduce him when they were alone at the ranch?
Could she seduce him—or, after her brutal rejection, had he already moved on?
To her relief, since she was still so unsettled, Ronan occupied the ride with amusing stories about his latest buying trip, interspersed with comments on the new goods he’d purchased, a monologue which required little response from her. To her relief, by the time they reached the ranch, she’d almost recaptured the ease and friendship that had existed between them before.
Was that what he’d intended, in riding out with her? Doing her such a kindness would be in character for him, she thought, gratitude mingling with that aching sense of loss.
She tried to express her thanks as they pulled up in the pasture, but he waved her to silence. “Hush, there’s no need for that. Let’s start over, shall we, Marguerite-mine?” he asked, accompanying the query with a tender glance that was soothing balm to the rawness of her lacerated heart.
I shouldn’t be yours, she thought. But I might not be able to resist. Still torn by conflicting impulses, she managed a nod.
He helped her off her horse, then leaned down to give her a kiss, gentle and irresistible as a baby’s smile, and just as sweet. She clung to him, wanting the moment to last forever.
A pounding of horse’s hooves interrupted them, as Desiree and Yolanda galloped up. Greeting the horses, stroking their velvet noses and promising them a treat later completed her transition to being on the ranch.
Ah, how good it felt!
Another surprise waited when they walked into the cabin a few minutes later. Sitting on her table was a large picnic basket, from which savory smells emanated.
She looked over at Ronan, who shrugged. “You’ve not been here in a while. I thought you might enjoy a fine lunch, so I had Della fix one and send Kevin out with it.”
“How kind of you.” Drawing aside the cloth, she noted ham, cheese, biscuits, a jar of cider and some of Della’s famous pie. “There’s quite a bit here. You must have been confident I’d agree to have you accompany me.”
He smiled, his eyes twinkling. “I’d hoped you would.”
“There’s enough for Antonio, too. I’ll call him in.”
“He’s not here.” At her raised eyebrows, he said, “He and Della’s boy have become good friends. Since you usually send him in to town for a break when you come here, I thought he might as well ride back with Kevin.”
“Anything else you’ve arranged?” she asked, half-amused, half-annoyed that he’d taken over ordering her day.
“Everything I could think of for your pleasure.”
A wave of desire dried her mouth and set all her pulses throbbing. The hunger aroused by the aroma of the picnic basket was overcome by a stronger, more primal urge to touch and taste and possess.
He surely read the invitation in her eyes, but to her bafflement—and concern—he stepped away, taking a chair at the table. “Shall we enjoy Della’s bounty?”
“I thought we might enjoy something else,” she muttered, seating herself reluctantly.
He leaned over to tilt her face up with one finger. “Later,” he promised.
And so they ate, but with the sensual awareness simmering in her body, Marguerite hardly tasted the food. Her rational mind might argue against it, but deep within, the compulsion to belong to him again, regardless of the consequences, built to irresistible strength. Today presented the best opportunity she would have, and she meant to seize it.
After they’d eaten—he, with gusto, she, picking at the food—Ronan produced another jar and poured them each a small glass. As he handed it to her, the sharp, sweet odor of liquor tickled her nose.
“The finest whiskey, this is. My da said you could smell the green hills of Ireland in it, while its taste was purest pleasure. This special brew is what got me started in my own business. I stopped by what was then a small trading post, tired and thirsty, only to find, to my dismay, they had nothing worth drinking.”
&nb
sp; “So you started importing whiskey to all the trading posts.”
“I convinced my da there were thirsty men out west who needed a fine brew as much as they did sugar and flour. My next trip from Galveston, I brought the first shipment of barrels. I’ve marked every major accomplishment since then with this taste of Ireland. So, drink with me?”
She took a cautious sip of the fiery liquid, trying not to cough as it burned its way down her throat. “What accomplishment are you marking?”
He finished his glass. “Come, let me show you something.”
Mystified, and a little woozy from the potent whiskey, she took his hand as he led her out of the cabin and down the path to the corral beside the barn.
Interrupted in his grazing, a stallion raised his head and looked at them.
With a cry of delight, Marguerite ran to the corral fence. “He’s beautiful,” she declared after studying him. “Who is he? Where did you find him?”
“You told me you’d been looking for a stud with a bit more quarter horse in him for speed. The breeder says he’s got a fine, even temperament, lots of spirit, and loves working cattle. I thought he’d be just what you needed.”
“He looks perfect! But—” her euphoria dimmed as reality rushed back in. “I don’t see how I can afford him. With working at the mercantile to repay my loan, I don’t know how I’d find the time to breed him, either.”
“Let’s talk about that, shall we?” He recaptured her hand, drawing her gaze from the stallion back to him.
“Once, you asked me what I yearned for, and I told you I was still searching for it. I’ve discovered now what it is—you, Marguerite. The woman who completes me, challenges me, brings me pleasure more intense than any I’ve ever known. I love you, Marguerite DeRivieras McMasters. I love you so much, on my way back from Houston, I lay awake in my camp at Devil’s Backbone, not able to appreciate its beauty for missing you. Only then did I realize how, little by little, I’d absorbed you into every particle of me, like water nourishing parched ground and bringing it to life, until I can’t imagine a future without you.”
“You...love me?” she gasped.
Still holding her hand, he dropped to one knee. “I love you and I want you to be my wife. A wife I will lust for and cherish and be faithful to all my days. The stallion is a symbol of my promise. Will you accept him as a wedding gift? And accept me?”
Marguerite jerked him to his feet and flew into his arms.
“Yes, of course, yes!” she cried against his chest. “I’ve been yours almost from the moment I first saw you, when you started replacing grief with longing. I want nothing more than to be your lover and your wife.”
“What about becoming a rancher?” he asked, a gleam in his eye. “I’ve made inquiries about buying the property to the west, where I could run cattle. Give your cutting horses something to practice on.”
“What of the mercantile?”
“We’ll hire someone to manage it. Della’s boy, Kevin, could do it.”
“So I could begin the ranch...now? Oh, Ronan!” She kissed him hard. “I hardly dare believe in so much happiness!”
“Let me make you believe it. Starting right now.” With that, he lifted her into his arms and carried her toward the river.
“Put me down, you big oaf,” she protested, laughing. “Where are you taking me?”
He didn’t answer, but kept walking until they reached the stand of oaks by the stream. Under a canopy of trees, a bower had been created, shut off on three sides by a screen of interwoven saplings. Within the enclosure, blankets carpeted the ground, spring wildflowers scattered over their surface.
It looked so much like a scene from a fairy tale, she had to blink. “You made this for me?” she whispered.
Gently he set her on her feet. “I love you, Marguerite McMasters soon-to-be Kelly.” While her pulse pounded at her temples and desire throbbed in her belly, his gentle hands worked on the buttons of her bodice. He leaned down to kiss her while he peeled the garment away, loosened her skirts and urged her out of them. He then moved his mouth to her breasts, suckling the peaked nipples through the fine linen of her chemise.
She was working too, shrugging him out of his coat, loosening the buttons on his trousers. In a series of urgent motions, she pushed him away to strip off her chemise and stockings, while he kicked off his boots, stepped out of his trousers, and pulled the shirt over his head.
Naked, proudly erect, he eased her down on flower-strewn blankets. “With my body, I thee worship,” he whispered. “My one, my only love.” Positioning himself over her, he thrust within and made her wholly his.
The End
The Whiskey River Series
Want to find out what happens to Booze Kelly? Check out the Whiskey River Contemporary series!
Book 1: Where There’s a Will by Eve Gaddy and Katherine Garbera
Book 2: One Night with the Cowboy by Eve Gaddy
Book 3: One Night with the Tycoon by Katherine Garbera
Book 4: One Night with the Bad Boy by Eve Gaddy
Book 5: One Night with the Playboy by Katherine Garbera
Book 6: The Valentine Gamble by Eve Gaddy and Katherine Garbera
About the Author
After writing more than twenty-five novels and novellas set in the English Regency, award-winning historical author Julia Justiss expanded her focus to pen stories that take place on the frontier of the Texas Hill Country, near where she lives with her native-born Texas husband.
An avid reader who began jotting down plot ideas for Nancy Drew novels in her third grade spiral, Julia went on to write poetry and then speeches, sales promotion material and newsletters as a business journalist, before turning to fiction. Her awards include the Golden Heart for Regency from Romance Writers of America, The Golden Quill, and finals in Romantic Times Magazine’s Best First Historical, the National Readers Choice, the Daphne du Maurier and All About Romance’s Favorite Book of the Year.
Check her website www.juliajustiss.com for her latest releases.
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