Montana Legend (Harlequin Historical, No. 624)

by Jillian Hart

  It was tough to see her beneath the shade of the buggy top. He couldn’t see her face, and he still had to fight his attraction to her.

  This wasn’t going to be easy.

  He set the fry pan off the heat and headed for the door. He ought to greet her, after all. They were friends. It was the friendly thing to do.

  “Ma, look! I’m riding Scout all by myself.” Ella sat awkwardly in the saddle, a little unsure as the left rein slipped from her white-knuckled grip.

  Lucy nosed the mare close and caught the rein. Pride filled his chest. No doubt about it, he had a good girl. She’d done a good thing, letting Ella ride Scout, who was as tame as could be.

  The girls dashed away, showing off their riding skills to Sarah. The mares took advantage, frolicking a little in the knee-high grasses, fragrant with the first buds of wildflowers. The girls’ delighted giggles lifted in the pleasant breezes.

  “I brought dessert.” Sarah swept from the buggy seat with a basket in hand.

  It wasn’t the basket he noticed. It was the woman.

  She was radiant in a dress the color of buttercups that skimmed her fine breasts and slim waist to perfection and whispered over her hips and thighs. Need knocked through him hard and fast.

  He couldn’t control it, couldn’t extinguish it. It pounded through his blood as she swept gold curls from her eyes and presented him with the basket.

  “If supper doesn’t turn out as tasty as you claim, then at least we’ll have cake.”

  “So, you don’t trust me.”

  “Not a chance.” The twinkle in her eyes said otherwise. “You finished the house. It’s beautiful.”

  “The way Lucy wanted it. I’ve still got to put on the porch and paint it. Come inside and I’ll show you the sights.”

  “I’d love to.”

  It was the pleasure of showing his workmanship to an appreciative friend, Gage argued. That’s why he felt so…happy. Yep, that was the word. Happy. Not because Sarah was at his side, smelling like roses and sunshine. Nope, he was simply enjoying showing her his hard work. If a little voice in his head called him a liar, then that voice had to be wrong.

  “A brick fireplace.” She ran her fingers over the real brick. “Folks around here use river rock, it’s free for the taking.”

  “Figure I’ll carve a mantel when I get the time.”

  “And look, a window seat. I’ve always wanted one.” She swept across the room to the white-paned window. “Let me guess. This was Lucy’s idea.”

  “She insisted.” And now he knew why. Window seats must be what women like, because Sarah lit up like summer as she ran her fingertips across the polished wood seat.

  “You need a cushion so Lucy can sit here and read when it’s too cold to go outside. And pillows with ruffles and lace. And you’ll need curtains. Millie from the dress shop does custom sewing.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind. ’Course, I’ll worry about that after I get some furniture.”

  Sarah’s heels echoed in the empty room. “You’re too busy with your horses right now, is that it?”

  “I confess, I have a weakness for them. Got the new colts to gentle and an order to fill for two dozen Arabians.”

  “That ought to keep you busy and out of trouble.”

  Trouble? He was in it up to his chin. He couldn’t help noticing the sway to Sarah’s walk as she moved ahead of him to view the empty dining room.

  It was perfectly natural for a man to notice a woman. Nothing to be concerned about. He had willpower.

  Until he watched sunlight burn golden in her hair. Until he noticed the full curves of her breasts that pretty dress of hers seemed to accentuate.

  “Oh, Gage. The kitchen. Everything smells so delicious. I take back every word I said about you being a bad cook.”

  “I suppose I can forgive you.” Maybe if he did something that occupied his hands and his mind, he’d stop wondering what her breasts looked like beneath that cheerful checkered fabric.

  Out of desperation, he grabbed the fry pan and dropped it to the stove with a clatter. “It hurts deep, Sarah, that you doubted me.”

  She hid a smile as she opened the pantry door. “I may have to whip the potatoes to make it up to you.”

  “Whip them? You look gentle as can be on the outside, but I know the truth. You’re a brutal woman.”

  “Well, I could beat them if you’d rather.”

  “Beating vegetables.” He pretended to shudder. “No wonder all the town gossips are trying to pair us up. I’m the new man in town and innocent to your ways.”

  “Did anyone ever tell you that you have a horrible sense of humor?” She uncapped the butter crock.

  “Never. What are you going to do now? Butter me up?”

  “You’re impossible. Where do you keep your bowls?”

  “My one bowl is in the lower cupboard near your left foot.”

  “You have one bowl?” She knelt, found the bowl and refused to let her heart fall any further.

  “One fry pan.” He ladled his secret oil mixture into the pan. “First it was foaling season, and then I had to get the cattle to the stockyard. No time to shop.”

  “Did you get a good price for them? I remember folks complaining this year.”

  “I did all right.” He uncovered the meat and forked the steaks into the pan. “The whip’s out in the barn if you need it.”

  “Funny.” She tugged open a drawer, saw it was empty and reached for another. “I’ll just use the whisk on you if you don’t stop it.”

  “Just proves my point.”

  What was she going to do with a man who made her laugh? Sarah jabbed the whisk into the steaming potatoes and broke them apart. “Where did you learn to cook, anyway?”

  “Here and there.” He pinched the last of the seasoning over the sizzling meat.

  Sarah shivered as Gage set the salt and pepper on the counter beside her. So close she could feel the heat from his skin, smell the wood smoke on his shirt.

  “I’ll take over now.” His hand closed over hers, taking possession. “You’re the guest of honor, Sarah. I don’t expect you to work for your meal.”

  “I don’t mind—”

  “I do.”

  He pressed against her, the hard length of his body unyielding against hers. His arms were around her as he slipped the whisk from her fingers. She closed her eyes, savoring the feeling.

  It had to be her imagination that his breath grazed the curve between her collar and her ear. It was impossible that he was holding her, moving his hand to her waist and pulling her against him.

  That couldn’t be his arousal rock-hard against her hip or his fingers curling around the back of her neck to turn her mouth to his…

  Like midnight dreams, his lips claimed hers with a raw need she understood. A need she felt in the dark of night, alone in bed, aching for a man’s touch.

  Gage was more than dreams. He was a flesh-and-blood man whose arms folded her against his wide chest. Desire pulsed through her, gaining strength with every beat of her heart. She wrapped her arms around his neck, taking what she could now, while they were both caught up in the moment. Before reason and common sense could prevail.

  His mouth was hungry and demanding, and she opened to him, drinking in his kiss, not caring what he thought or how it seemed. She matched the sweep of her tongue to his and sighed when his hands brushed down her back.

  It felt so wonderful. She moaned when his fingers curved around her hips and pulled her harder against his arousal, unmistakable against her stomach. He held her there, groaning, too, breaking their kiss to nibble his way down her throat.

  “The steaks,” she gasped between fast, shallow breaths.

  “You were waiting for me to burn them.” His kiss at the hollow of her throat was part chuckle, and it vibrated through her entire body, making her toes curl.

  “I think I can reach it.” He lifted one hand from the small of her back and he strained to catch hold of the pan’s long handle. “S
upper is saved.”

  “I’m impressed.”

  “Notice how I still have you right where I want you?” He leaned his forehead against hers so they were eye-to-eye, lip-to-lip.

  “I noticed.” He was still hard against her stomach, and desire kept jolting through her like a spring lightning storm. “I thought we agreed to just be friends.”

  “We are friends.”

  “Yes, but don’t you blame this on me like you did last time.” She swirled away from him and reached for the pitcher of milk. “You were shameless.”

  “I blamed you because you were at fault.” He winked as he forked the steaks from the pan to a platter. “You wanted me to kiss you. Admit it.”

  “Me? You trapped me against the counter. I was innocently making the potatoes.” She poured milk into the bowl and reached for the salt and pepper shakers. “You forced your kisses on me.”

  “I don’t know what came over me. Suppose I need to apologize?”

  “Absolutely.”

  He gazed at her through lidded eyes as he stirred flour into the pan. “That was a pretty great kiss.”

  “It was.” She grabbed the whisk. “Watch out, I’m heavily armed. Try it again and take your chances.”

  “I’ll be good.” He winked. “Or even better.”

  Chapter Ten

  I’ll be good. Or even better. Gage’s warning haunted her all through supper. They ate outside at a trestle table with the girls both talking a mile a minute.

  Their heated embrace filled her thoughts as she cut Ella’s steak into bite-size pieces and dished up more potatoes for Lucy.

  That was a pretty great kiss. He wasn’t the least bit sorry, either. He could sit there and laugh at Lucy’s jokes and try to fish for compliments on his cooking as if nothing earth-shaking had happened.

  A great kiss? No, it had been better than that. Spectacular. Extraordinary. She would never want another man’s kiss ever. Only his.

  While he rode off to check on his hired hands at the beginning of the second shift, Sarah bustled the girls into the kitchen.

  Fast as could be, she washed dishes while the girls dried. As soon the last pan was washed, Sarah dried the rest and watched the girls race off to check on the kittens.

  Contentment filled her as the setting sun cast a soft glow through the window. It was hard not to wish as she put away the dishes and covered the half-eaten cake. Gage had kissed her right here at this counter, hard with need.

  With desire. For her.

  Could a man like Gage fall in love with her?

  “You cleaned my kitchen.”

  She hung the dish towel up to dry. “It seemed the least I could do, since you did prove me wrong. Supper was one of the best I’ve ever had.”

  “Me, too. In my case, it was the company.” He tucked her hand in the bend of his arm and escorted her outside. “C’mon.”

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “Don’t look so worried. You doubted my cooking abilities and now I plan to punish you.”

  “By hauling me outside?”

  “Yep. I might even force you to watch the sunset.”

  “You’re a cruel man.”

  “I try.”

  The world seemed perfect with Gage at her side. The bright orange disk of the sun set the whole sky aflame, suspended above the distant mountains. The plains were alive as birds searched for bugs in the last light of the day. Does with new fawns grazed in the tall grasses. An owl glided low, her low who-who a harmony to the melody of the birds and wind and rustling grasses.

  There was a peace to the prairie she couldn’t explain. “I’m going to miss this when I leave.”

  “Why not stay right here? You don’t have to go to the next county to find work.”

  “I’ve been looking for work here, but no luck. I suppose the prairie will be about the same in Price.”

  “Is that where your interview is?”

  “Yes. A rancher and his wife need a housekeeper and cook.”

  “Will that be a good situation for you and your daughter?” Gage’s chest tightened as Sarah nodded. Her hands were red from hard work, and that wasn’t about to change anytime soon. It troubled him. “Maybe something will work out right here. For the girls’ sake. I’d hate to separate them.”

  It couldn’t be for his sake. Gage knew from hard experience that he didn’t have what it took to love a woman. Not through the years, or for better or worse.

  Yet, this woman could tempt him. “It’s good of you not to mention my lack of manners in the kitchen.”

  “Lack of manners?”

  “Fine. My bad behavior.”

  “That’s more like it.” Her hand on his arm was as light as air, and yet her touch was all he could think about.

  He pictured her tender hands on his shoulders, on his chest and then trailing down his abdomen. He swallowed. “You could lecture me the way I did you, about the two of us being no more than friends.”

  “I could.”

  “The simple truth is that I liked kissing you. A lot.”

  “I noticed.” A blush stole over her, turning her cheeks an attractive pink.

  Damn, she was gorgeous. He fought the urge to kiss her there, where her skin flushed with modesty. Maybe desire, and that was going to get him into trouble. He leaned on the fence, propping his elbows on the top rail.

  She joined him, washed with pink light from the setting sun. Her skirts swept his leg. Her arm curled through his arm.

  “What are we going to do about this kissing thing?” he asked.

  “We’ve tried ignoring it, but it hasn’t gone away.”

  “I guess we have to face the truth. You’re a good kisser and you wear down my willpower until I can’t stop myself.”

  “I notice this keeps being my fault.”

  He chuckled. “It sure as hell isn’t mine.”

  “No. You were not at all aroused in the kitchen when I was shamelessly kissing you.”

  “Glad you noticed.” He kissed her hair, loving the silky feel against his skin. Gossamer strands caught on his day’s growth, and that was nice, too, as she leaned against him.

  That sweet body of hers was going to be his undoing.

  “Trouble is,” he confessed, “I’m aroused again.”

  The pink flushing her nose and cheeks deepened two shades. “That is a comfort of marriage. Keep that in mind, you scoundrel.”

  “Hey, I never said it wasn’t. Just that there was a rising predicament.”

  “Stop with the puns. This is not proper conversation.” She was laughing, though, all sparkle and life.

  He couldn’t help pulling her into his arms, holding her sweet body to his.

  “Just want to be honest with you,” he murmured in her ear. “I can’t offer you what you want from a man. But you make me want to.”

  His eyes had turned as bleak as a winter storm. His confession held so much sadness it made her sad, too, as she splayed her hand over his chest. His heart beat strong beneath her palm. So very strong.

  “It’s different for you, Sarah. Sounds like you had a good marriage. They’re rare, that’s for sure. You don’t understand how it was.”

  “Maybe I do.”

  His brow furrowed into deep lines. “What do you mean? You had a bad marriage?”

  “I had a tough one. I was young, I thought I was in love. I didn’t know what it meant to commit to another person.”

  Her lower lip trembled and he laid her cheek against his chest, cradling her head in the palm of his hand. “Sorry, I just assumed. I didn’t mean to bring up any pain. You don’t have to tell me.”

  “I do. You think something that isn’t true, and I want you to know. That first year of our marriage was hard. David came with wounds from his family, and I had mine. Loving someone is harder than it looks.”

  “I know.” His throat ached, because he did know. “Failing someone you love is worse.”

  The crown of her head nodded against his chin. “Then Ella came
along, and it was harder.”

  “I know.” More responsibilities. Another person depending on him. A small child he didn’t want to fail.

  “David was at wit’s end. So was I. Maybe we were finally wise enough to understand those vows we’d made in the little mountainside chapel where we married. I don’t know. But we made it better.”

  “Better?” His marriage had only gone from unhappy to worse.

  “The six months before David died were the most wonderful of my life. I think of all that time we wasted, and I regret every minute we were unhappy.”

  He knew about regrets.

  “If I’d only opened my heart sooner.” She released a shaky breath. “I won’t be happy until I can find that intimacy again.”

  “I can’t.”

  “I’m not asking you to. I learned the truth about love. It’s a gift that’s best freely given, without condition and without end. Anything less than that only brings heartache.”

  “I’m telling you. I don’t have that in me. I wish I did.” There had been times his marriage had been good, but they had been short-lived. Sarah was an optimist, and maybe she hadn’t been married long enough to see the way things were. That the honeymoon phase came to an end every time, followed by more resentment.

  But he liked her vision of things.

  He pressed a tender kiss into her hair. “Turn around and look at the sunset.”

  She twisted in his arms and leaned against him.

  “It’s beautiful,” she breathed. “So much brilliance and color.”

  “Yes.” She was like that sun to him, lighting up the entire sky, and he held on tight.

  “The sunset is better watching it with you, Gage.”

  He didn’t dare answer. An overwhelming tenderness clawed painfully right behind his breastbone, and he couldn’t tell her about it.

  So he held her in silence for as long as he could. They watched the sun set the sky aflame at the horizon to slowly fall behind the endless line of rugged mountains.

  He breathed in the rose scent of her hair, savored the rise and fall of her ribs beneath his hand and loved the soft-firm feel of her against him. Warm and comforting and thrilling all at once.

  Until the last curve of the sun had disappeared, and darkness came. Then he released her, changed because he’d held her.