Captive of the Cattle Baron (Selkirk Family Ranch Book 1)

by Irene Vartanoff

  She’d go visit that white stallion. Visit, nothing more. He looked like a wonderful horse.

  This time around, she left the house by the front door, avoiding Miss Betty’s sharp eyes, and went directly to the corral, skirting Baron’s order that she stay away from the stables. She also dodged Hoot and his adherence to keeping her away from what she loved the most.

  She approached the corral and stood by the wooden fence. The white stallion got curious. He came over to check her out.

  “Oh, you’re a beauty, aren’t you?” she said in a low-pitched, affectionate tone of voice. “Yes, you’re a good horse, a very good horse,” she continued. “I’ll bet you’d like it if I rubbed your neck. Wouldn’t you, boy?”

  The stallion snorted and danced away in a show of power. He bucked up and down and raced around the corral. She didn’t move. A few minutes later, his curiosity impelled him to come stand by her again. She spoke to him softly, praising him.

  “That was so much fun. You’re such a handsome boy. I’m even more interesting, because I’m going to help you be a very happy horse again. Yes, I am.”

  She talked in that vein every time the stallion came near her. It was tempting to touch the beautiful horse. The stallion offered by moving his shiny head close to her, but she didn’t know his tricks. He might be a biter, and she didn’t have her training stick. Anyway, this visit was all about showing the horse who was the boss in this relationship. By making herself available but not too available, she trained him to want her. Too bad it didn’t work on men.

  Where did that thought come from? She’d never had any difficulty attracting men. Her show biz glamour did the trick even when the polish and poise she’d developed as a child actor failed her. Which it seldom did. Truth was, she received far more male attention than she wanted, and all because she’d been on a TV show years ago.

  The stallion approached.

  “You’re a very good horse, a very good horse. We’ll take a ride tomorrow, maybe.”

  The stallion raced away.

  No, her problem with men was that they saw her as an actress, and as nothing else. Like Baron seeing her as a drug addict and nothing else. Maybe stubborn, simplistic thinking was a trait all males suffered from.

  The stallion tried not to show his curiosity, but he couldn’t resist checking her out again.

  “You’re a wonderful, wonderful horse, and together we’re going to bring out the best in you,” she cooed.

  ***

  Two hours of preliminary training went by in a flash. The white stallion would make an excellent riding horse or even a competitor. He’d been trained, but something had happened to scare him into behaving badly. He wouldn’t require much remedial effort.

  All the while she trained the stallion, her thoughts about Baron kept churning. When he appeared next to her at the corral fence, she didn’t jump.

  “I told you to stay away from my stable today,” he said in a gravelly tone from behind her.

  She smelled horses on him, and smoke. Leather. Manly smells. “I’m not at the stable,” she said, still watching the stallion.

  He ignored the technicality. “I specifically ordered you not to come back here today.”

  She finally glanced at him. “You ordered? You’re acting like a prison warden.”

  “You’re a guest, but you were sick. Or so you claim,” he said, eyeing her with open suspicion.

  She curbed her impatience. “Haven’t you ever taken even one pill that made you loopy against your will?”

  “No. Never.” His glare was uncompromising. “I don’t do drugs and I don’t allow them on this ranch.”

  “I don’t do drugs either,” she said. She glared back at him.

  “Why are you here at the corral?” Baron demanded.

  “I’m training your stallion, getting him used to humans.”

  He frowned. “You went inside the fence?”

  “I wouldn’t do that without permission.”

  “Why should I give you permission?”

  She blew out an exasperated breath. “Because I’m a horse trainer.”

  “Pull the other one.” He looked her over, missing none of her female assets, making her want to squirm from his slow, appreciative inventory. “You’re far too beautiful.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “What are you? A dancer at the casino? A swim instructor at the hotel?”

  “Why would you think that?” She cocked her head at him.

  “You have an air about you. Poise,” he said, his hands resting on his belt as he looked her over.

  “That’s an astute observation,” she replied, impressed in spite of herself. Although she wasn’t about to tell him about her show biz past, somehow he’d made a connection. “Why is my appearance relevant to my ability to train a horse?”

  “The only horse trainers I’ve ever met were wizened old things. You don’t look like a horse trainer to me,” he said.

  “I can’t possibly be a horse trainer because I don’t look the part?” She started laughing.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “I don’t look the part.” She couldn’t stop the gales of laughter.

  “You’ve been out in the hot sun far too long. Miss Betty told you to rest. I’m taking you back to the house.” He took hold of her upper arm and began to march her toward the ranch house.

  “Stop,” she said, sobering up. She pulled against his strong grip. He immediately released her, but now they were face to face, almost touching. Their breaths mingled and then slowed. She stared into his chestnut eyes, seeking something, she didn’t know what. His gaze was equally intent. He answered her without words, and then he looked at her lips. She stopped breathing. He leaned in a few more inches and pressed his mouth against hers.

  Her body slammed against his, as if propelled. Her arms encircled his neck. His large hands grasped her waist and pulled her tighter against him. Her softness crushed against his hardness. The kiss deepened. The world spun.

  Then the stallion nickered and Addie fell out of heaven. She backed away from Baron, one hand to her mouth. What had she let her captor do to her? What had she done?

  “No,” he said, seeming to grope for words, as if he, too, was dazed by the force of their kisses. “What?”

  She forced herself to remember he’d been trying to drag her off. Otherwise, she would leap back into his arms for more. She had to stop thinking about his kisses.

  “What’s his name?” she asked.

  “Who?”

  “The stallion.”

  “Whitey.” Baron looked at the horse, which was circling the corral again. “He’s plain crazy,” he said. “You’re nuts to think you can civilize him.”

  “You are completely wrong about this horse,” she said. Turning back to the enclosure, she called the stallion. “Whitey. Whitey. Come here, boy.”

  “He won’t come,” Baron said.

  The white stallion pranced up to where Addie stood at the rail.

  “Whitey,” she cooed. “I’ve just learned your name. Whitey. It’s a beautiful name. Whitey. You are a beautiful and good horse, Whitey.”

  ***

  Baron was seized by a sudden wish that she would talk to him in that loving tone of voice. It had been a long time since he’d heard a woman address anyone in such softly affectionate accents.

  That kiss. The feel of her in his embrace. She was all woman. He wanted her.

  “Bye, bye for now, Whitey,” she said. She turned and walked away from the corral, her blonde hair swinging under her cowgirl hat matching the sway of her hips. The horse nickered, but she didn’t turn back. “Bye, bye, Whitey,” she repeated in a firm vice. Then she walked on.

  Baron caught up with her and they walked together. How had she turned the tables on him again? He’d been about to drag her back to his house and yell at her for disobeying orders. Make more of a fool of himself, in fact. Instead, they’d caught fire from a mere touch. He’d wanted to devour her. She’d given ba
ck to him with equal intensity. They would be amazing together, if he could coax her into his bed.

  Despite her response to him, she’d recovered first. She’d argued with him, as everybody seemed to these days. Then she’d demonstrated her horse-training ability, which was impressive. How could such a gorgeous, womanly woman already have that rank stallion eating out of her hand? Everybody said it would take months to civilize him. They were wrong. If Addie stayed here, he bet she could do it in a week.

  He’d like Addie to stay for much more than a week, but what was his excuse? She wasn’t on drugs after all. Miss Betty had told him in no uncertain terms that he was barking up the wrong tree. He’d leapt to a false conclusion about Addie during their very first meeting. Instead of volunteering to take her home, he’d compounded his error by refusing, and then by yelling at her when she’d phoned her people. He’d behaved like an idiot. Not to mention grabbing her and practically losing control this morning and just now, too. He kept wanting to put his hands on her. Wanting to touch that soft pink flesh.

  When he got close to her, an elemental part of him took over. His body started making his decisions for him. He drew a heavy breath. He ought to regain his self-control and act civilized, stop giving Addie Smith good cause to leave here and never see him again. How could he keep her here long enough so she’d change her mind about him? Could he offer her the job of training Whitey? Was that enough of an enticement?

  Was she truly well enough? The white stallion was a dangerous horse. Would Addie be safe trying to train him? He couldn’t let her risk her life. He must protect her.

  ***

  Addie was very conscious of Baron walking beside her as she made her way past the stable toward the ranch house. He was a strong, virile man. She’d been lucky so far that his scruples and hers had dragged them back from giving in completely to the attraction that sizzled between them. They’d come very close just now. Her knees felt weak.

  He was deep in thought as they walked together. Perhaps he’d changed his mind about her and now would be willing to help her get back home? She only had a few days before the trial began. She’d promised Caz. He needed her.

  “I have to return to Jackson Hole soon.”

  She must have said it out loud, for he replied, “What’s your big hurry?”

  “Someone is depending on me.”

  “Are you engaged? Do you have a kid? What?”

  She let him see her exasperation. “Isn’t it a little late to ask that? You kissed me.”

  “You’re not wearing a wedding ring,” he said, picking up her left hand and stroking her ring finger with his large middle finger. He looked at her with challenge in his eyes. “You kissed me back.”

  She withdrew her hand, slowly, and stepped a few feet away from his tempting body for good measure. His touch was too potent. Her hand tingled where he’d stroked her. She wanted him to stroke other parts of her. She walked toward the house with renewed speed, but Baron kept pace with her.

  “Well?” he asked again.

  Her mouth quirked in an almost smile. “Not married. No kids.”

  “Then how about staying here for a while?”

  She stopped walking. “Suddenly I’m not a prisoner? You finally believe I’m not a drug addict?”

  He grimaced, looking uncomfortable. “It wasn’t that unreasonable an assumption. You were in bad shape in the hotel. That episode with the guy at the suite door insisting I leave before he’d open up was weird. Then you climbed into a stranger’s car and were out cold for hours. You couldn’t walk straight.”

  “I’ll never take another allergy pill again in my life,” she said, her right hand raised in swearing position. “Can we forget that?”

  “I’ll take it under advisement,” he said, cracking a smile that made her insides melt. “Stay here as a guest. You could train Whitey.”

  “Okay, but only for a few days.” She shook her head, fighting the tempting idea. “I have an important appointment in Jackson Hole, one that I can’t miss.”

  “What kind of appointment?”

  She gave him a searching look, wondering how he would take the truth, all of it. “I have to testify in court. A friend of mine is in trouble.”

  Baron’s expression shut down. “A friend? Or a drug dealer?”

  She threw up her hands in frustration and slewed around, looking anywhere but at Baron. He had a one-track mind, and it always led to drugs. Just as well she hadn’t tried to explain Caz, and Leslie, and the shooting, or the D.A.’s ambition to make a name for himself.

  “Did I say anything about drugs?” she asked.

  He shook his head, as if to clear it. “I won’t help you keep a drug dealer out of jail.”

  She put her hands on her hips, facing him. “Are you back to thinking I’m in cahoots with a drug dealer?”

  “In cahoots?” He smiled. “What a wild west word. From your way of speaking I don’t think you were raised in Wyoming.”

  “Stop trying to distract me. Do you still suspect me of something illegal?”

  Baron didn’t answer directly. “Who’d you call?”

  “What?”

  “Who did you call from the tack room this morning?” Baron braced his hands on his hips and stared down at her from his impressive height, his whole pose demanding.

  “None of your business,” she said, not giving an inch.

  “You were arranging a delivery. What was it?”

  She stared up at his frowning face. What flight of fancy was he onto now? “You misheard me, Baron.”

  “No. You called your supplier. Or your dealer. Or maybe it was your creepy boyfriend.”

  “I do not have a— No. Why should I tell you anything? How dare you make assumptions about my life?” She turned away. She resumed the short walk to the house, only now she was nearly running.

  “Slow down,” he said. “We need to talk some more.”

  “No way. You don’t listen.”

  She was practically sprinting when she got to the ranch house kitchen.

  Miss Betty looked up as she burst in. “What on earth?”

  “Talk some sense into him. He’s gone around the bend.”

  Baron pounded into the kitchen only a step behind her, but she didn’t stop. She raced out of the room and upstairs to her bedroom. She locked the door from the inside.

  Chapter 6

  In the kitchen, Miss Betty stopped Baron from following Addie by moving between him and the doorway to the main hall.

  “Whoa, there, cowboy. What’s your hurry?”

  “Let me by.”

  “Leave her be.” Miss Betty put both flour-covered hands on his forearms. “A girl needs to be alone sometimes.”

  “I have to talk to her.”

  “Simmer down.”

  She nudged him toward the kitchen table. He sat. The noise of her television show was a familiar undercurrent in her kitchen. She poured him a glass of iced tea and pushed a small plate of muffins nearer.

  “Now what’s this all about, boy?”

  He took a sip from his glass and blew out a breath. “She used the phone in the tack room this morning, but she won’t tell me who she called.”

  Miss Betty looked at him as if he was about ten years old. “Why should she?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You don’t own this girl,” Miss Betty reminded him. “You found her, but she don’t belong to you.”

  He said nothing for a minute. Then he let out a deep breath. He wanted Addie to belong to him. He thought of her as already belonging to him. “Maybe so.”

  “She won’t confide in you if you keep pushin’ her away with your suspicions.”

  “I don’t believe she’s a drug addict. Not anymore.”

  “Well, I should say not.” She turned back to the stove and fiddled with a pot. Then she faced him again. “Another couple of girls you don’t own are showing up here tomorrow. Tess and Paula. Don’t you be gettin’ down on Tess, you hear?”

  “
She needs to straighten up and get on with her life.”

  Miss Betty bent a stern look on him. “Says the pot about the kettle. You’re in a holdin’ pattern and you know it.”

  “No, I am not.”

  “Then where are the women? You’re young, healthy, good-lookin’, and you’re rich. Yet you go to a resort and come back with a woman you all but abducted. That ain’t the normal way to get a gal.”

  He didn’t have a comeback. The last few years he hadn’t found any woman who interested him for more than an evening. Addie interested him mightily. He wanted to know everything about her, but she wouldn’t spill. Stubborn woman.

  “Message received. I’m going to my office.” He stood and walked out of the room.

  ***

  Addie didn’t leave her bedroom the rest of the afternoon. She lay on the guest room bed and thought about Baron Selkirk. What was his problem? Why was he constantly accusing her of being involved with drugs? Or had he now shifted to jealousy because she had dared to call another man? Was that it? Did Baron think he owned her?

  A shiver went through her. Owned by Baron Selkirk. Why was the thought so exciting? Her breasts felt swollen and achy. Her mouth was dry. Her stomach was clenched. Her whole body remembered how it felt to be in his arms. He was strong, demanding, masterful.

  She groaned in frustration and turned on her side. Baron had taken her captive, although now he claimed she was a guest. She could not succumb to the atavistic female sexual thrill of being forced to yield to him, of being possessed against her will rather than giving herself freely. The kiss hadn’t been forced on her. It had been mutual. But still, she’d arrived at this ranch under duress, and her position still wasn’t stable. She must remember that when she was tempted to succumb.

  What did her attraction to Baron say about the state of her love life? Did she need or want a lover right now, when her life was such a mess again? A lover who lived hundreds of miles from her little ranch? Although she liked the isolation here, especially as a break from the media frenzy involving Caz.

  Her love life was barren and had been for a long time. The last man to breach her defenses had eventually revealed his acting ambitions and that had ended it. Before him? College boyfriends. High school boyfriends. Important at the time only. The last two men she’d dated had wanted her for her supposed Hollywood connections.