Love and Fury: The Coltrane Saga, Book 4

by Patricia Hagan

  She reached to stroke the horse once more, and this time he merely regarded her with those large black eyes. “I would love to ride him,” she whispered.

  Branch looked her over curiously. “Had much riding experience?”

  “Not any,” she replied.

  “Hard to imagine Travis Coltrane’s daughter not knowing how to ride,” he muttered.

  Briana tensed, wondering whether she’d said something to make him suspicious. Quickly she lied, “Aunt Alaina was thrown from a horse once and almost killed, and she never allowed me near one after that.”

  He shook his head in sympathy. “That’s a shame. Best thing to do if a horse throws you is get right back on again.” He pointed to a chestnut mare in the next stall. “That’s Miss Kitty’s mare. She’s pretty gentle, and she’s used to riding with Janus. I could put a saddle on her if you’d like me to give you a few lessons.”

  Briana could hardly contain herself. She clapped her hands together gleefully and cried, “Oh, would you, Mr. Pope? I’d love that. I really would.”

  “Sure,” he said pleasantly, then went to the tack room and came back carrying a saddle. “Just do as I tell you.”

  He showed her how to mount and how to sit in the saddle, then handed her the reins. “Take it slow and easy. Move with her moves. Relax and don’t tense up or act scared. A horse can always tell when the rider is scared, and that makes ’em act sassy. Let her know you’re in control—or make her think you are!” He laughed good-naturedly.

  Briana was delighted. It all seemed so easy. Branch watched her carefully as they headed out of the stable and across the yard. “Should’ve known you’d be a natural,” he said, impressed by her confidence. “Travis Coltrane’s daughter would take to a horse like a duck to water.”

  She felt a twinge of guilt. He was a nice man. All the people she’d met so far were nice…and she was lying to them all. Well, she would try not to think about that, and remind herself that this was for Charles.

  They walked their horses across the plain, toward the rolling river. A gentle breeze was blowing, and the sweet air was fragrant with wildflowers that bloomed among the rocks.

  Eventually Branch led her horse into a trot, Janus impatient beside the mare. Briana loved it. “Yep, you’re a natural,” Branch complimented as they rode on into the warm, golden day. “A real Coltrane.”

  Briana closed her eyes, feeling the cool wind against her face. In that moment she wished she were a Coltrane, that this were her real home.

  Then she thought of Charles, and felt a pang of guilt. Whatever the future held, she would have to return to France and her meager existence there. She had no illusions that Gavin would give her anything beyond what it took to pay for Charles’s medical care. Poverty would once again become a way of life for Briana, and this happiness would become only a bittersweet memory.

  But for the time being she could pretend she actually was Dani, that this was her real life. She would, she decided in that blissful moment, become completely absorbed in her role. She would truly become Dani…and savor the joy for as long as it lasted.

  There would be enough time to contemplate the bleakness of her future.

  Many miles south, two riders ascended a grassy knoll, then dismounted and stood gazing out at the panorama that stretched in all directions.

  Colt clasped Becky’s hand and smiled down at her. “I’m glad I talked you into this. I needed the exercise, not to mention getting out of that house for a few hours.”

  Becky did not speak. Her mind was churning with a maelstrom of emotions. It hadn’t been easy to carry out the pretense that she was a maid in her aunt’s house. Some of her regular men had made unpleasant scenes when told she wasn’t available, and Aunt Candy was becoming more and more irritable over the situation.

  Colt squeezed her hand. “You haven’t said a word since we left Golconda. What’s wrong?”

  Becky didn’t trust herself to speak, lest she burst into tears. Aunt Candy was right. She was a fool.

  He pulled her gently into his arms, cupping her chin in his hand to tilt her face toward his.

  Becky struggled to keep from bursting into uncontrollable sobs. The moment had come.

  His lips came down on hers, warm, seeking, tender—yet possessive and demanding. He held her gently, his hands moving down her back to cup her firm, rounded buttocks and pull her tightly against him. She felt the hard swelling of his desire and gasped. Drawing his mouth away from hers, he smiled and whispered, “Are you surprised? Haven’t you seen it before, beneath the sheets in bed when you were caring for me? Haven’t you known how I’ve wanted you, Becky? Hungered for you?”

  She shook her head and tried to pull away, but he held her firmly.

  “I’ve often wished that I’d made love to you the first time we met.” His tone was fierce “You don’t know the hours I’ve laid awake at night dreaming about you, how wonderful it would be to hold you in my arms, to kiss you all over, to come inside you…” His lips pressed against hers once more, their tongues touching in soul-searing thirst.

  He drew her gently to the ground, to lie upon the soft grass. The sun was sinking, and the night wind stirring in the desert provoked them.

  Becky attempted to resist by saying nervously, “It’s late. Aunt Candy will be worried.”

  “Aunt Candy,” Colt laughed, “can go to hell.” His fingers worked at the buttons on the front of her yellow muslin gown. “So can the whole world. Here and now, my sweet, I’m going to show you how much I want you…how much I care.”

  Becky could no longer deny her own hunger, and when he bent his head to suckle her breasts, she gasped and cried out, arching her back to press herself closer to Colt. Dimly the taunting thoughts came to her of other men, other lips on her nipples, other hands kneading her breasts. Oh, but never, never like this!

  Colt was the only man she had ever truly desired, and she had lain awake countless nights dreaming of being possessed by him. Now there was no stopping her. She wanted him with every beat of her heart. She wanted not only to take what he yearned to give, but to bestow on him all the pleasure she had to offer.

  He licked each nipple in turn, his hands making circular movements upon her breasts before moving downward. He kissed her belly, and then he was moving her skirt and petticoats up to expose her legs, her thighs, rendering her vulnerable to his tender assault.

  He parted her womanhood with his fingertips, touching her with his seeking, hungry tongue. Becky moaned. It was so sweet as to be almost painful. She had never allowed a man to do this to her.

  “Relax,” he whispered thickly. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’ll be very gentle…”

  Becky kept her eyes shut, was glad she couldn’t see his face. He thought her a virgin, of course.

  Slowly, carefully, she found the pocket of her dress and closed trembling fingers around the tiny vial Aunt Candy had given her, recalling her aunt’s words: “When the time comes—and it will—you can make him think you’re a virgin. It’s chicken blood. Just pop it open and let it dribble between your legs. He’ll never know the difference. Women have been doing this since the beginning of time.”

  Becky felt hot stabs of pleasure, knew that the moment she’d dreamed of, but never experienced, was near. She wanted him inside her, wanted to feel his manhood pulsing deep within, and she reached for him and pulled him upward. “Now,” she said, and barely recognized her own voice. Never had she heard herself sound so warm, or so hungry. “Inside me. Please, Colt, I want you inside me.”

  He was looking at her adoringly, and she was so utterly transfixed by his gaze that she almost forgot the vial. A second before he penetrated her, she slipped it beneath her, pretending momentary pain. He slowed his movements, whispering that she should relax, relax and let him give her pleasure. Once she’d snapped open the vial and emptied its contents, she slipped it back into her pocket and let her love for Colt take over again.

  They clung together tightly, and Becky cried out with
delight and joy when rapture peaked. This was the ultimate, and she would never know such ecstasy again except with Colt.

  His explosion made her as happy as her own, and afterward, they lay quiet, wrapped around each other.

  He lay with her face cradled against his face, and when the tears she could no longer restrain spilled against his cheek, he drew back to gaze down at her quizzically. “Did I hurt you, Becky?” he asked.

  “No, no—” She shook her head, her curls brushing against his bare skin. “I don’t know why I’m crying, really.” She could not go on—the despair was too great to bear—and she burrowed her face against him.

  He held her and ran his fingers lovingly through her hair. “You’re crying because you know I have to leave soon—and I do. I can’t expect Branch to look after things forever.”

  “When?” she asked, relieved to let him think his departure was the reason for her tears.

  He sighed, not really wanting to talk. “A few days, I guess. We’ll see. I don’t want to think about it, either. But I’ll come back, Becky. You just won’t know when I might come riding up to your door,” he teased.

  Becky tensed. The thought was terrifying. What if he came when she was with a man?

  She began trembling, and because she was so upset, he decided they needed to talk seriously. “There’s something I want to say to you,” he told her, eyes intense. “Something you ought to know.”

  He told her about Charlene. All of it. Her eyes widened with shock, and by the time he’d finished she was almost speechless.

  “Did you…” She hesitated, fearing the answer. “Did you love her, Colt?”

  “In a way, maybe I did. But not enough to marry her. And that’s why I told you all this, Becky. I don’t ever want to hurt you, so I want you to know how things are with me. I care for you a great deal, but we’re going to have to give this a lot of time. Marriage is not in my immediate future, Becky, and you’ve got to know that.” He stared deeply into her eyes, searching for some sign that she understood. “Don’t expect more than I can give. I don’t ever want to hurt another woman like that, and women think of marriage when they—they care for someone.”

  She touched his cheek. “It’s not your fault, Colt. Not any of it. Stop blaming yourself, please.”

  He moved a little away and lay on his back looking up at the lavender sky. An evening star glittered just above the horizon, and he fixed his gaze on that. “That’s something I’ll always have to live with…wondering if it was my fault.”

  They lay side by side for a long time, and then Colt wrapped her in his strong arms once again. “It will be easier this time,” he murmured huskily against her hair.

  Becky took a long, deep breath. Yes, it was always easier to lie the second time.

  Chapter Ten

  Branch called Dani a natural for ranch life, and Briana secretly, happily, agreed. After only a few riding lessons, she felt at ease on horseback. And her time with Branch was always enjoyable. No longer was he reserved or cold. Why, he was downright friendly.

  Briana was everlastingly grateful that Gavin seldom came out to the ranch. When he did come, she had to be careful, for he had told her to keep to herself and have as little as possible to do with the servants and ranch hands. She knew he wouldn’t like it that she spent all her time outdoors, learning all she could about horses and cattle and ranching. He would like it even less if he knew how friendly she was with Branch.

  Briana fell in love with the desert. Out there, riding with Branch, she was ready to believe the deception didn’t exist, Gavin didn’t exist, and her own part in the scenario had magically changed from imposter to…well, she didn’t know just what, exactly, except that she felt as though she belonged. Belonged with Branch Pope out there riding the flat terrain, looking up at the majestic Sierra Nevada Mountains. Belonged at the lovely Coltrane mansion, dining with Colt or chatting with Carlota in the kitchen—she, who had so recently been a servant herself!

  When she was on the plains, she marveled at the subtle colors. On the seacoast of Monaco, everything was less dramatic looking, softer, and the sky was a very light blue. On the stark desert, there was sagebrush and rocky soil. The mountains loomed dark brown, altogether different from the Monaco seacoast. The sunsets were different on the desert, too, richer, with glints of yellow and orange besides the mauve and red she was used to seeing.

  In those times on the desert with Branch, Briana could be someone other than an imposter, someone new and clean and fresh. She even stopped worrying about Charles when she was riding with Branch, a respite she felt guilty over while welcoming it nevertheless.

  She had begun going to the bunkhouse in the mornings to join the men for breakfast. She enjoyed the opulence of the big house, but she so loved the coziness of the bunkhouse. Constructed of rough-hewn logs, it was long and narrow, with double-decker beds lined up on both sides. At the end of the room, opposite the front door, was an open space for long tables and benches, and there was a large stone fireplace to the right of that area. The air always smelled of fresh-boiled coffee and leather, and she loved the odd combination.

  Breakfast was hearty, with lots of variety, as were all the meals prepared for the men by Chouyin, the Chinese cook. Briana wasn’t able to eat a large steak with two fried eggs on top, but the men did. She was amazed by the quantity of food consumed by the three-dozen ranch hands. Not only did each eat at least one steak, some ate two, along with crispy fried potatoes, oatmeal laced with honey, and large, fluffy biscuits laden with fresh-churned butter. There was coffee, and milk was cooled in the nearby stream. Sometimes there was juice made from Muscadine grapes that grew wild along the barbed-wire fences bordering the eastern end of the Coltrane property.

  Briana liked the wranglers. Rugged though they were, these men were gentle with her, treating her with respect while making her feel welcome.

  Branch had found a couple of pairs of trousers that were not too large for her, and she much preferred her new pants to the muslin and cotton day dresses filched from Dani’s wardrobe in France. The plaid flannel shirts Branch found for her felt soft and warm. She even had boots, which Branch bought for her in town, and a large felt hat. She felt like a true Western woman, besides being happier than she’d ever been.

  One morning, after she’d been at the ranch for three weeks, Branch drew her aside after breakfast and apologetically told her that he was going to have to spend a few days at the silver mine. “I’d take you with me, Dani, but it’s dangerous there for a woman. Colt wouldn’t like it if I did, and that stepbrother of yours,” he added contemptuously, “would take a fit. So you just find something to do while I’m gone.”

  There was more. She listened, disappointed, while he told her he didn’t want her to ride alone. “Too many things can happen, Dani. Sidewinder rattlers, coyotes. You might even get lost. Stay close to the house, please.”

  She hung back that morning, watching Branch ride away, wondering what she was going to do with herself for the next few days. The thought of sitting alone in that big house made her feel blue. The depression led to a mood of great unhappiness, and suddenly she found herself wishing it would all end so that she could go home.

  This was, she told herself dismally, turning into a fantasy world. It had become too easy to pretend this was her world, to forget the misery that waited for her at home as she struggled to make a living for herself and Charles. The truth was, the longer she stayed on the Coltrane ranch, the harder it was going to be when she had to leave.

  “Don’t pay no attention to Pope.”

  She whirled around, nervous, as she saw Dirk Hollister. For some reason, she never felt at ease around him. The way he looked at her, his eyes constantly shifting from her face to her bosom, made her feel as though he could see right through her clothes. He wasn’t actually sinister looking. In fact, he was attractive, in a rough sort of way. His dark, unruly hair was too long, but he had a nice face, with finely chiseled features, and his blue eyes were frin
ged with long lashes. Tall, well built, he could be a handsome man, she realized, if he cleaned himself up and worked on his manners.

  His eyes darted to her bosom. “Pope acts like an old woman sometimes. But I’ve seen you ride, and I know you can take care of yourself.”

  “He is the ranch foreman,” she reminded him. Dirk was a new man Branch had hired during Colt’s absence. He was a drifter; she knew that much about him and no more.

  He gave her a taunting smile. “Don’t you own half this place? Well, so that makes you his boss, Miss Dani.”

  Briana nodded. “That’s true, but I don’t want to make trouble. After all, I’ve never been around a ranch before. Or that wilderness out there.” She gestured to the plains surrounding them.

  He shrugged, grinning down at her, standing with his feet wide apart and his thumbs hooked in his belt. “If you’d rather stay in the house on a nice day like today instead of riding out with me to round up strays, okay by me.”

  He tipped his hat and turned to leave. “Wait,” she called out impulsively, her mind racing. Branch took her on pleasure rides exclusively, so she had never seen much of the workings of the ranch.

  “Do you really think it would be all right?” she asked hesitantly. “Branch wouldn’t be angry with us?”

  “Of course not,” he assured her. “Come on, Miss Dani. We’ll go get Belle saddled. Pope won’t even know about it unless you tell him.”

  Soon, they were riding away from the ranch, the bright morning sun beaming down on the plains. A hawk spiraled in the azure sky high above them, and she wondered how much territory he covered in a day. She’d ask Branch. There was so much she didn’t know. She’d learned the names of many plants, though, and she recited them to herself as she rode: greasewood, mesquite, creosote, yucca. At higher elevations there would be sagebrush and Joshua trees, junipers, mountain mahogany, firs, and spruce trees.