“Better?” Roan inquired, his lips against her hair. He could smell the scent of her and it was the most incredible fragrance in the world to him. Her hair was a mix of pine, a sweetness, the scent to her skin and the fragrance of the honeysuckle shampoo. He felt her nod, felt her hand move from the center of his chest to her cheek. If he didn’t release her, he was going to do something really stupid: kiss her. Take her mouth, ravish her, taste her, feel her woman’s burning heat. His heart counseled otherwise, knowing she had trust issues with men.
Yet, she’d willingly collapsed into his arms, huddled against him, scared and grief-stricken by revisiting her traumatic past. Roan had not felt any resistance on Shiloh’s part toward him. He wanted to kiss her so badly, to heal her, and he knew he could. Not fooling himself, yes, he wanted her sexually as well, but he was content to wait on that part. His senses told him she would allow him to kiss her. But what if he was wrong? It would destroy whatever trust had just been quietly built between them. Shiloh was shattered in another way. He knew if he kissed her, it could cut two ways. Either it would be healing and supportive to her, or it could trigger darker issues she had and their trust would be dissolved, nothing left between them to build on. Roan decided not to kiss her. The chances of being wrong would make him pay too great a price and he wasn’t willing to risk it.
“Yes, I’m okay now,” Shiloh whispered, her voice hoarse from crying so long and so much. She felt his arms relax and she found herself sitting up, near him, already missing his embrace. Wiping her eyes, removing the beaded tears still on her lashes, she gave him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to spoil your day.” She saw his gray eyes lose their hardness, saw a warmth in them that curled around her heart and made her breath hitch. Something told her she was seeing the real Roan without his game face on for the first time. And it stunned her; it called to her heart and fractured soul. There was such a sense of care, of protection radiating toward her that her eyes widened. Her heart started a slow pound and urgency thrummed through Shiloh as never before. When the hard line of his mouth softened, she shook inside with a need so urgent that she felt starved for more of his attention, his touch. It felt as if the earth had literally moved beneath where she sat.
“Darlin’, you have NOTHING to apologize for. All right?” And Roan drilled a look into her eyes, asking her to hold his gaze and not skitter away as she had done so many times before. Frightened animals and humans could never hold another’s gaze. Her eyes were red-rimmed, the softness of them tearing heavily at his guarded heart.
Shiloh sniffed and gave a brusque nod, her lower lip trembling. She was tearing him apart. Trying to be so brave in front of him. Roan wondered if this was how she looked when having to live with Anton Leath in her home with her mother; putting on that brave front even though she felt like a defenseless rabbit living with a rabid wolf underfoot.
To hell with it. He reached out and gently wiped away a last tear clinging to her pale cheek. Even through his thin leather glove, he could feel the pliancy of her soft skin. Shiloh blinked once as he grazed her flesh, taking that tear away. Roan didn’t see fear, disgust, or terror in her eyes when he touched her. It told him a lot. She didn’t fear him and their trust was still solid between them. Roan wanted to do so much more; frame her face, take that soft mouth of hers and capture it beneath his own, give and take with her, taste her fire, hear those sounds of pleasure catch in her slender throat. He was such a goner for this woman; knowing her tragic past made him just that much more protective of her than before.
“In my eyes,” he told her gruffly, veiled emotions behind his words, “you’re not only a survivor, Shiloh, but you’re courageous. You’re a warrior of another kind.” My kind. He didn’t dare say that, seeing her eyes suddenly lighten with hope and with another emotion he couldn’t translate. Pinkness seeped back into her wan cheeks and Roan felt good being able to say something that made Shiloh feel a little bit better. She’d gone through a special hell. One that made him want to shake his head because he couldn’t conceive of any eleven-year-old in that kind of circumstance. And she still turned out to be the beautiful, kind, and shy woman who was sitting right in front of him.
Dropping his hand to his thigh, he saw how his roughly spoken words fortified Shiloh. Her back straightened more, the tension bled off her shoulders, and he could see some of her normal confidence returning. It struck him that Shiloh might not have a support network back in New York City. And he wanted to find out.
“Are you close with your aunt and uncle?” he wondered. He watched her sit and clasp her hands in her lap.
“It’s a long story, Roan. My aunt and uncle were childless by choice. When my mother was murdered, I was sort of forced on them. I knew I was an imposition to their lives, but they did their best to accommodate me. Both of them were career people.”
“So, no mother at home?”
Shaking her head, she offered quietly, “Aunt Lynn hired a full-time nanny to be with me, to take me to school, pick me up, and make all my meals.”
Wincing internally, Roan remembered his family. To this day, they ate together. No matter what the ranch demanded, they all sat down together at night for dinner. It was a time to talk, exchange ideas, get support, and laugh. They laughed a lot around the dinner table. Cutting her a glance, he could see her cheeks had gone wan again. Damn, she was so easily touched by her emotions. Like a barometer. “But you got to see them on weekends?”
“Mostly, yes. They have a beautiful cabin in the Adirondack Mountains and we usually went there on weekends, which I just loved. It fed my soul.”
Rubbing his jaw, Roan watched the horses eating grass, his mind and heart on Shiloh. She really didn’t get the nurturing she needed after her mother was killed in front of her eyes. God, that had to be a terrible sentence for Shiloh, considering how shy and sensitive she was. Roan swallowed hard, feeling his throat tighten, feeling anger toward her aunt and uncle. Were they so narcissistic, so self-centered that they couldn’t see what a little girl needed after having her mother ripped savagely from her life? Hire a nanny? Let the nanny be the stand-in for the dead mother? He wanted to curse, but tightened his lips instead.
“Wasn’t that hard on you? Having a nanny?” He turned, watching her telling expression.
Opening her hands, Shiloh whispered, “No one could replace my mom, Roan. The nanny was wonderful. She was made aware of my loss and she tried her best to step in.”
“Why didn’t your aunt?” he growled.
“Auntie Lynn was focused on her career. She’s a very competitive person, Roan. She had goals she needed to meet.”
His mouth turned grimmer. His eyes hardened as he glared out at the horses. Roan did not want her to see his rage. Life was never fair, but in this kind of situation, Shiloh was like a piece of raw meat and her aunt might as well have poured salt in her wounds. She wasn’t there for Shiloh. A shadow. Doing her duty, but emotionally bankrupt with the child. Roan knew there were women who were childless, who made that choice, but none of them fit Lynn’s prototype. They were nurturing and maternal. And they could give back and were unselfish. Lynn was a piece of work, in Roan’s estimation.
Nervously moving her hands, Shiloh added, “My family has always been goal-oriented, Roan. Even I am.”
Roan understood what she was doing and let it slide. It would do no good to denigrate Auntie Lynn. At least the woman put a roof over her head, fed her, hired a nanny, and paid for her needs. That was better than nothing, but not by much, in his opinion. He pushed to his feet, turned, and offered her his hand. “Come on, there’s a special place I want to share with you.”
Looking up at his tall, shadowed figure, Shiloh saw his eyes were warm. And it fed her heart and soul. Reaching out, she slid her hand into his gloved one. She could feel him monitoring the strength of his holding her fingers, careful not to hurt her. “Where are we going?” she asked, coming to her feet.
Roan released her hand. Didn’t want to, but ther
e you go. He had to or else. “There’s a flower meadow not far from here,” he said, gesturing with his finger. “I thought it might cheer you up. This time of year, the early flowers are blooming.” Instantly, he saw happiness flood her green eyes, those gold flecks set deep within them. His heart raced momentarily. Damn, but it made him feel good to know how easily he affected Shiloh in a positive way. And then Roan wondered what her eyes would look like if he kissed her. He knew how to love a woman. Knew how to give her pleasure that would float her off into that treasured space where lovers went.
“I’d like that,” she said, her voice strengthening. “Are you sure it’s okay? I know you said you had to ride fence line today.”
Always thinking of others first. It was a good way to be and it only made Roan like her that much more. He placed his hand lightly in the small of her back, guiding her toward Charley. “It will be all right,” he reassured her. Roan saw the instant worry replaced with excitement. “Better keep your cell phone ready when we get there. You’ll probably be taking more than one photograph.”
Grateful that Roan helped her mount up, she took the reins from his hand, looking down at him. “I love flowers. How did you know? Did Maud tell you that?” He stood with his large hand on Charley’s rump, the other resting against the swell of her saddle. He was larger than life, a quiet, intense cowboy with those warm gray eyes that continued to thaw her frozen soul. Shiloh was amazed that he was allowing her to see the real Roan Taggart. It left her breathless.
“No, Maud didn’t tell me.” He smiled a little and patted Charley’s neck. “Just a feeling.”
She watched him walk over to his large black gelding, gathering up the reins. Both rider and horse were lean, tight, and in top athletic condition. Her lower body was simmering with need. Her skin still skittered in memory of his touch. For a man who was so rugged, he had a gentle touch. When looking at Roan’s hard, weathered face, Shiloh would never have dreamed he had tenderness within him. Taking a ragged breath, she clucked to Charley as he led the way around the hill.
* * *
The wildflower meadow was a special place. Roan always liked it because it was on the property where the cabin was being built. Before, he wasn’t going to tell Shiloh about his cabin or even let her know it was on the Wind River ranch property. Now something in him moved him to show it to her. Roan didn’t know why, only that he sensed it would make her happy. The tragedy she carried within her ran her life; now she was targeted again, only this time by a stalker. He wanted to ask her more but he’d upset her enough for one day. Roan would choose another time, a better one, to try to get her thoughts.
They rounded the hill and the meadow was on a slight slope downward onto a basin area of the valley floor. To the left, less than a quarter of a mile away, stood his half-finished log cabin. In the morning light, the slats of sun made the cedar logs on the eastern side of his cabin glow like newly minted gold coins. He had drawn back a bit, riding half a horse length behind Shiloh, watching her. The gently sloping meadow was filled with many kinds of newly blooming wildflowers. The dew was still thick on the lush grass that the horses walked through, sparkling like rounded bits of tiny rainbows as a breeze rippled across the area.
Roan heard a soft gasp escape Shiloh as he watched her slowly pan and take in the color across the meadow. He pulled up, absorbed in her discovery of the flowers peeking out among the long and short strands of grass. Only able to see her profile, he went hot as her mouth curved upward. She pulled Charley to a stop and twisted around in the saddle, catching his studied gaze.
“This is incredible, Roan!” she gasped. Shiloh saw him nod, the corners of his mouth tipping upward as he dismounted and dropped the reins to his horse. The warm sunlight felt good, the light strong. His face was shadowed as he walked up beside her horse, putting his hand on his rump.
“This is one of Maud’s favorite places,” he said, and gestured out toward the slope of the hill. “Want to get down? Walk through them? Smell them?”
This was just what she needed after such a hard, deep cry. Shiloh still felt fragile and tentative. “I’d love to,” she admitted, a catch in her tone. She saw a gleam in Roan’s eyes, but was unable to interpret the look. His face was more relaxed. Dismounting awkwardly, she felt his gloved hand slip beneath her elbow and steady her as she put her feet in the dew-laden grass. Her skin tingled and she ached to step those few inches and turn into him to be held again. Shame made her step away and pull Charley’s reins over his head as he eagerly began to eat the lush grass. What must Roan think of her? There was no recrimination in his eyes that she could see. If anything, she felt a powerful mantle of protection around her emanating from him.
“Go ahead,” he urged her quietly, taking the reins from her hand. “Go explore,” he added, and he smiled a little, seeing the sparkle in her eyes. Roan’s heart expanded as she responded to his low, gruff tone. She pulled the cell phone from her pocket, turned, and moved slowly into the flowers. There was yellow balsamroot, red gilia, white Richardson’s geraniums, pink shooting stars, purple monkshood, and blue lupine throughout the area.
Roan was content to remain with the horses and watch her bend down, cup a bloom, and inhale its fragrance. The sunlight picked up the burgundy, gold, and copper strands of her ponytail, which moved across her shoulder every time she bent down. She was like a kid in a candy store, enthusiasm evident in her face as she took photos of her favorites.
Around him, mid-morning was waking up in earnest. Hearing the red-tail behind him, he turned, looking across his shoulder toward Pine Hills, seeing one of the hawks leaving their nest. The chirping of birds was a tranquil song to him; one he’d never get tired of hearing. Roan kept his gaze on Shiloh as she slowly worked her way down the hill, looking for new flowers so she could photograph them. He knew there was nothing like this meadow in New York City. It must look like a kaleidoscope to Shiloh. Or maybe something else because she was a writer and saw things differently than most others.
Wrapping his arms against his chest while contented horses eagerly munched the grass, Roan found himself feeling happy for no discernible reason. Shiloh was graceful. He watched her put her arms out to balance herself here and there. There were a lot of gopher holes in the hillside and she couldn’t see where she was stepping, the grass covering up the many mounds where the pesky creatures lived in town-like burrows. If a horse ever accidentally stepped into one, it could break a leg and send the rider flying. He didn’t like gophers.
Once Shiloh made her way to the end of the slope, she turned and looked up at him, waving and smiling.
Roan felt his skin riffle. He lifted his hand and smiled in return. Her ponytail had pretty much worked its way loose and now her hair lay about her shoulders like a gleaming red and gold cape. Almost the colors of aged cedar. Like his cabin. Frowning, he lifted his chin, staring in the distance toward his home. On weekends, he would drive out here and work from dawn to dusk, returning back to the ranch center because there was no furniture in there yet. He’d set the major posts for a porch he wanted to build around half the cabin. The idea of having a rocking chair there that he could mosey out on with a cup of hot coffee in the morning appealed to Roan. He laughed to himself because at an earlier age, he’d never contemplate a rocking chair. But life had moved on and he’d changed. Things that had been important to him as an operator in the Army were now in the past.
Gazing toward Shiloh, he watched her walking around the edge of the meadow. As she started a long climb up toward him and the horses he could see her pant legs from her knees downward were soaked with dew. Smiling to himself as Shiloh drew nearer, he saw her cheeks had bloomed with pink once more. Even better, there was life in her green eyes again, no longer dull or rife with pain and memories. Her hair had a slight curl to it, the crimson waves lovingly outlining her oval face. Trying not to stare at her breasts too long or the gentle sway to her hips, he kept trying to control his hungry body.
Roan couldn’t help but grin as s
he came up the hill, breathing hard, cheeks flushed, her green eyes shining. It had been a good decision to bring her here, help her orient to the present. Let the past ebb out like a tide and give her some downtime from the brutality of it all.
“I just got lost in the beauty of all those flowers, Roan.” Shiloh pulled some of her strands away from her face, smiling up into his hard, serious-looking features.
“You looked like you were having fun.” Roan found himself wanting to sweep Shiloh into his arms. She was so alive. So . . . tempting. Gesturing down to her wet, darkened Levi’s, he drawled, “The only downside is wet pant legs.”
Laughing, she nodded and smoothed her hand against her knee. “That grass is heavy with dew!”
“It’s like that every morning until about eleven A.M.,” he said. The breeze moved her hair and, without thinking, he reached out, capturing some of those wayward strands and then tucking them behind her ear. Roan saw her stand very still, her pupils growing large and black beneath his touch. Cursing to himself, he dropped his hand, realizing how intimate the gesture had been. Shiloh suddenly looked shy and she lowered her lashes, moving over to where Charley stood, and picked up his reins. Roan wanted to touch her again. Everywhere, starting with that ripe mouth of hers.
“Thank you for showing me this meadow. It’s so perfect. So beautiful,” she said, holding his gaze as she pulled the reins over Charley’s head.
“I thought it might be a positive change for you,” he said, holding her stare. Roan saw desire in Shiloh’s eyes. When her pupils grew dark and large, he knew how to interpret that telltale sign. She had liked his touch. Right now, Shiloh was fragile. He shouldn’t have done it because it was like taking advantage of her when she was vulnerable. Kicking himself inwardly, he was finding by being around her, touching Shiloh was coming way too naturally for him. He tried to blame it on the fact that her red hair was loose and a glorious, shining crown around her shoulders. He tried to convince himself that her green eyes were only temporarily warm and soft with longing because she was raw from her earlier weeping in his arms.
Wind River Wrangler Page 10
