The Lone Rancher

by Carol Finch

  “What about the ones I separated and left in the pen for breeding to the shorthorn bulls?” she asked anxiously.

  “They’re still there, ma’am,” the shaggy-haired cowboy confirmed. “I checked ’em myself before I came to the house.” He started toward the barn, opened his mouth, then clamped it shut.

  “Obviously there’s something else on your mind, Ches,” she said impatiently. “What is it?”

  “Well, Rocky was speculating about whether this was one of Cahill’s pranks to retaliate because you hired him away from the 4C. We didn’t want to check 4C pastures in search of your prize heifers without your permission. Don’t need to start a range war if there is a reasonable explanation.”

  Blast it, Adrianna silently muttered. That sounded exactly like something Cahill would do, the ornery rascal. First, he had insulted her, then he’d stolen Elda. Then he’d changed tactics and become the attentive companion at lunch in town. She had let her guard down to the point that her instinctive attraction to him had invaded her dreams and left her aching for his touch. She’d even felt sorry for him because his brothers and sister had lit out and he didn’t know what had become of the younger two.

  Damn him! He had purposely set her up to humiliate her. The short-lived truce was over and the private feud was on again. Just when she had accepted the inarguable fact that she found him attractive and enjoyed his companionship he had betrayed her feelings for him.

  “You want that I should saddle up and check around to find your missing Herefords?” Ches asked.

  “No. I’ll tend to that task myself,” she managed to say without biting off the cowboy’s head. She shouldn’t kill the messenger, just because she felt like blowing the deceptive Quin Cahill to smithereens. “Please saddle my dapple-gray gelding. I’ll be down at the barn in a few minutes.”

  Cursing Cahill with every step, Adrianna whirled around, then bounded upstairs to fetch her boots and pistol.

  “Where are you going with that?” Butler asked when he saw the weapon she had clutched in her fist. “This isn’t Boston, but I doubt you can blast someone to kingdom come without serious repercussions, even in Nowhere, Texas.”

  “We’ll find out,” she growled as she barreled downstairs.

  Butler blocked her path at the bottom of the staircase. “You better not be planning to shoot someone, Addie K…. If you are, is it anyone I know?”

  “Yes, that rattlesnake named Quin Cahill,” she muttered.

  Butler’s brows shot up his forehead. “I thought we liked him now.”

  “No, he was pretending to be nice, but that snake shed his skin. Damn men everywhere. Easterners or Westerners, they are all the same!”

  Butler clamped his hand around her forearm when she tried to veer around him. “I hope you are excluding me, my dear girl. If you can count on nothing else, never doubt that Bea and Elda and I are loyal to you—”

  His breath came out in a whoosh when Adrianna impulsively hugged him zealously. “I know. It has comforted me greatly for over a decade, Hiram. I’d be lost without you.”

  She stepped back, tucked the pistol into the band of her breeches, then strode toward the door.

  Behind her, Butler called out, “If you decide to shoot him for whatever it is he’s done this time, don’t kill him. You would not look good behind bars, m’girl. Please try to restrain yourself this once.”

  Adrianna nodded without looking back. She headed to the barn, serenaded by the rat-tat-tat of the carpenters nailing down the rafters for her new addition. She should borrow one of their hammers and pound some sense into that devilish cowboy, she thought spitefully. She had allowed Cahill to make a fool of her because she had fallen for his suave charade. Heavens, she had seen through the practiced charm and silver-tongued flattery of enough adventurers and charlatans in Boston. How humiliating to be fooled by that rugged cowboy!

  “You sure you’ll be all right riding off by yourself?” Ches asked worriedly when she bounded onto Buckshot’s back, then reined east. “There’s bears and lobos lurking around this area, even during daylight hours.”

  “I’ll be fine.” She gouged the dapple-gray gelding in the flanks to race toward the fence separating her ranch from the 4C. “My cattle had better not be in Cahill’s pasture,” she growled as she raced off.

  Quin glanced up and glared at Boston, her hair billowing around her as she flew across the pasture like a witch on her broom. The long-legged gray thoroughbred ate up the ground in graceful strides, he noted. Quin would have admired Boston’s horse and her riding skills if he weren’t so furious with her latest prank. As it was, he stared at her through a red haze and waited for her to approach so he could bite her head off.

  “Get off my property, you thief!” she yelled at him as she brought Buckshot to a skidding halt.

  “Me?” he roared, then made a stabbing gesture toward a dozen longhorns grazing in her pasture. “How many of your men did you pay a bonus to burn your brand over my fresh brand?”

  “Don’t be an ass, Cahill,” she snapped back, her green eyes throwing hot sparks. “And don’t pretend to be the injured party here. A half-dozen of my pedigree heifers are missing. I have no doubt you stole them from this pasture to breed to those mongrel longhorns you call a prize herd!”

  Quin snorted in disgust. “I wouldn’t want your white-faced cattle rubbing hides with my hardy breed.”

  Her chin lifted and she glowered at him. “Herefords are prized for their adaptability to rugged terrain and harsh climates. At least my cattle have genetics and they are known for their good dispositions,” she flashed. “Unlike you and your wild-eyed herds that stampede with little provocation.”

  Quin thrust out his arm to call her attention to the fresh brand on his cattle. “Explain that, Boston. Is this your idea of turning a profit? Stealing the neighbors’ cattle and selling them as your own? Was that your father’s policy, too?”

  She reined her dapple-gray thoroughbred up beside him, her breasts heaving with each angry breath. Ordinarily, Quin would have been distracted by her arresting feminine assets, but not today. He was too angry. As angry as he’d been since his brothers and sister betrayed his parents’ dreams and left him to do all the work. Now he was being betrayed by the attraction he felt for a woman who didn’t even belong in his world. A woman who had struck off to be something besides who she was. Just like Bowie, Chance and Leanna. Damn it, Boston was just like them! Maybe that’s what aggravated him so much.

  “What the blazes?”

  Adrianna’s surprised tone of voice jerked him from his frustrated musings. He studied her closely, then reminded himself that she was an accomplished actress who had made him believe their feud had ended and they were on amicable terms. Ha! She had buried her hatchet, all right. In his back!

  “Amazing that you can feign surprise when you’ve been caught red-handed,” he said scathingly. “I can smell burned hide on my cattle.”

  She jerked up her head in defiance. “I am not responsible for this.”

  “You mean you weren’t on hand when the deed was done?” He smirked. “Don’t toss out misleading comments to make yourself look innocent, Boston. One of my men saw torchlights here last night.” He waited for her to follow him a short distance, then he pointed to the ashes of a small campfire. “And here is where you and your thieving cowboys heated your iron in an attempt to cover up the 4C brand.”

  “You did this to make me look guilty, didn’t you?” she accused harshly. “You are trying to ruin my good name and reputation, in hopes of sending me back to Boston. Well, it won’t work, Cahill. I did not order my men to rustle your cattle and I certainly didn’t do it myself. You pulled this prank to cover your own thievery when you stole my Herefords!”

  He stared at her as if she were insane. Or he was. He wasn’t sure which because the woman made him crazy. Whatever the case, this feisty, intelligent female had him listing like a ship on a storm-tossed sea. He hated her. He liked her. He desired her. He wanted to be n
owhere near her… Because, even as furious as he was with her, he couldn’t trust himself not to grab hold of her and kiss the living daylights out of her for making him lose control of his self-restraint.

  “Where are you going?” he called when she whipped Buckshot around and headed east.

  “To find my Herefords,” she threw over her shoulder. “If they are on your property, I’m going to shoot you a couple of times for lying to me, even if I did promise Butler that I wouldn’t kill you. But you make me so mad I don’t care!”

  When she leaned out to open the gate, Quin circled his stolen cattle, herding them through the opening. After he’d shut the gate behind him, he chased Boston across his pasture to a wooded hillside. A moment later, he realized she was following tracks as expertly as he did. Damn, he hadn’t given Boston full credit for her skills and abilities. She was knowledgeable about her cattle and she could ride expertly—even in the darkness, no doubt. Which proved she was perfectly capable of stealing his cattle, maybe even branding them herself, so she wouldn’t have to involve her hired hands in her mischief. Then they wouldn’t have to lie when he accused them of rustling.

  “A-ha!” She growled in outrage, then pointed into the underbrush between the trees. “And what have we here, Cahill? Are you going to lie through your teeth and tell me that my heifers opened the adjoining gate and came over to your property for a change of scenery?”

  Quin did a double take when he saw the red heifers in the underbrush. “I did not order the theft of your Herefords!”

  Boston scoffed caustically. “No? So you did it by yourself so you didn’t have to involve your cowboys?”

  He muttered under his breath when she threw his accusation back at him.

  “Very clever, Cahill. You have surpassed my expectations of your shrewd and devious tactics to bankrupt me and send me packing to Boston. How dare you try to lay the blame on me!”

  She glared at him, angry with him, angry with herself for thinking he was a cut above the rest of the males on the planet. But she was wrong. Cahill was the absolute worst because he had the power to hurt her with his deception and his lies. She was fiercely attracted to him and that made her vulnerable. She had given him the benefit of the doubt about his change in attitude toward her in the past few days and he had betrayed the smidgeon of trust she had placed in him.

  Blast it, she had countered every devious ploy from aristocrats in their quest to control her fortune, but she had tripped over this swarthy, gray-eyed rancher who wanted her land and wished her back to Boston.

  Worse, he had humiliated her by pretending to befriend her and then double-crossed her. She really wanted to shoot him but she had promised Butler she wouldn’t.

  Quin rode his bloodred bay gelding up beside her, then stared her squarely in the eye. “I did not remove your heifers from your pasture, Boston,” he said gruffly. “You can despise me for a hundred good reasons but not for this because I am not responsible.”

  She elevated her chin so she could look down her nose at him. “Then I suppose you’re going to tell me it’s the Cahill Curse casting shadows of doubt on your honor and integrity.”

  His gaze narrowed and his thick brows flattened on his forehead. “Only the spiteful and ignorant believe there is such a curse to punish my family for its wealth and prosperity. We’ve had this discussion already and I expected better from you.”

  She blew out her breath. “All right, I concede that was a low blow. But you have to admit this incident makes you look bad, Cahill.”

  “You, too, Boston,” he countered. “In fact, I wonder if this was a premeditated prank to put us at odds again.”

  “We’ve been at odds since I set foot on Texas soil,” she reminded him.

  He eased Cactus closer, his muscled leg brushing her knee. “Not always,” he murmured in a husky drawl that sent unwanted heat coiling deep inside her.

  Then he leaned out to curl his gloved hand around the back of her neck, drawing her face steadily toward his. His eyes, which could sometimes look as cold and hard as a tombstone, now gleamed like mercury. They hypnotized Adrianna in one second flat. She didn’t protest when he brushed his mouth over her parted lips. Desire burned through her when his hand glided over her shoulder to follow the curve of her breast. She caught her breath when he rubbed his thumb over her beaded nipple.

  She felt helplessly drawn to him, helpless to protest when he hooked his arm around her waist and lifted her off Buckshot to settle her on his saddle facing him.

  “Tell me that first kiss we shared was no good, that there was no heat between us,” he whispered as he arched upward, brushing his arousal against her inner thighs, now draped intimately over his legs. “Tell me it was just my imagination, Adrianna. Then tell me that when we were laughing and talking over lunch it was nothing more than two people being polite in front of friends and family.”

  She looped her arms around his neck and squirmed closer, surprised by her own brazenness. Then she reminded herself that this was who she was—a woman who dared to meet challenges and enjoy adventures of all kinds. Cahill, she decided, was the most erotic and tempting adventure of all.

  He groaned when she rubbed provocatively against him. “God, woman, you’re going to be the death of me, one way or another, I swear.”

  “Then before your demise, tell me that you kissed me first, just as you did today,” she teased, her voice crackling with erotic pleasure as she pressed her lips lightly to his and caressed the wide expanse of his chest. “Tell me you want me for who I am, Cahill.”

  “I want you like crazy,” he growled huskily. “And I hate that I have no willpower when it comes to you. Hell, I’m not sure I can trust you.”

  “And I can’t trust you,” she replied as she unbuttoned his shirt, itching to explore his hair-roughened chest.

  When she dragged her mouth from one exposed male nipple to the other, fire shot through Quin’s overly sensitized body like a sizzling lightning bolt. He surged instinctively against the V between her legs, resenting the layers of clothing separating them, resenting the reckless need she provoked so easily from him.

  If there was a hell, then he was most surely in it, Quin decided as her warm lips skimmed over his chest, stirring so much pleasurable torment he swore he was one of the newly damned. Then her hand drifted over the band of his breeches to the low-riding double holster that draped his hips. He knew she was aware of how much she had thoroughly aroused him. When her hand flitted over his throbbing length beneath the placket of his breeches Quin struggled to catch his breath.

  “Careful, Boston,” he choked out. “You keep that up and you’ll find yourself flat on your back beneath me and there will be far more than accusations going on between us.”

  “Empty threats, Cahill.” Her vivid green eyes danced with mischief. “Nothing will happen that I don’t approve of—”

  Adrianna’s voice fizzled out when he ran the back of his hand over her breasts, sending pleasure sizzling through her. He flashed a devilish grin as he used his teeth to pull off his glove so he could unfasten her blouse. Then his hand splayed over the rise of her breasts and dipped beneath the flimsy chemise to caress her. Adrianna forgot to breathe when he took one nipple, then the other, between this thumb and forefinger and plucked gently. She almost passed out when he dipped his head and drew the beaded peak of her breast into his mouth and suckled her.

  The burning ache between her legs became so pronounced that she moaned and impulsively arched against his hard length. Cactus shifted beneath them, rocking them together and apart provocatively.

  Adrianna was trapped in a haze of hungry desire when Quin pushed off the stirrups, dragging her to the ground and onto the grass. He half covered her with his powerful body, then leaned down to kiss her as she’d never been kissed before. He stole the breath right out of her lungs, then gave it back so tenderly that she nearly wept.

  She wasn’t aware that she’d clamped her fingers in his tousled hair to hold his head to hers so
she could kiss him until she tired of it—and wondered if she ever would feel that way. The sensation of his mouth moving expertly over hers, his tongue stabbing provocatively between her teeth, while his hand cupped her breast, had her chanting his name as if she were entranced.

  Then he eased his hips between her legs, his hard arousal settling over the place that burned so fiercely and wantonly for him that she arched upward, wondering what it would be like to be flesh-to-flesh with him, easing this maddening ache that burned her self-restraint into charred ashes.

  Her breath clogged in her throat when his wandering hand dipped beneath her waistband, easing the loaded pistol aside to stroke her belly. His hand moved lower as he held himself suggestively above her. He kissed her until she begged for whatever he was depriving her of. Then his fingertips glided over the moist heat between her thighs and indescribable pleasure flooded over her in tidal waves.

  When he dipped his fingertip inside her, stroking her gently, arousing her to the extreme, she gasped. Then the most incredible sensation imaginable reverberated inside her. Heat and pleasure spread through every part of her body and shimmered with one breathtaking sensation after another. She blinked up at him, astonished by the intense pleasure that expanded with each erotic stroke of his fingertip.

  “Quin?” she rasped, unsure what she was asking, wanting.

  He smiled down at her, then kissed her again. “Do you want me, hellcat?”

  “You know I do,” she said raggedly. “I want—”

  Her voice dried up when Quin suddenly jerked away, then hastily pulled her blouse back together and stuffed her discarded pistol into her hand. Then she heard the thunder of hooves and the whinny of their horses greeting the new arrivals.

  “Damn it,” Quin muttered as he jumped to his feet. “Of all the rotten timing!”

  Three of his cowhands were galloping toward them and Boston had yet to button her blouse and rearrange her gaping breeches after he had touched her intimately. And what’s more, his body was throbbing with the want of her and his men would know exactly what had happened if he didn’t get himself under control—and quickly.