by Lynda Chance
"I already mended all your clothes!" she squealed in a fit of feigned temper.
Satisfaction crossed his features. "You surely did."
She lifted the fingers of one hand to her mouth and drummed them across her lips in deep thought. Her eyes held his as if the answer was close at hand, but she just couldn't seem to reach it.
"I'll take those." His voice was deep, almost feral as he watched her.
"Those what?" Her eyes narrowed at the tone in his voice.
"Those lips." He gritted out.
"Luke."
"Emma."
"I believe we decided not to wager kisses."
"No, you decided not to wager kisses."
"We shouldn't--"
"You can always fold your cards and we can call it a game. I won."
"No! I'm going to win this game, I have the hand!"
"Fine by me. I'll take kisses instead of matchsticks."
She looked him in the eye to gauge the seriousness of the offer. "How many kisses?"
"Hmmm, let's say, if you win, you get all the matchsticks and I'll raise the bet by taking you horseback riding tomorrow."
She sucked in her breath at his words. "I've never been horseback riding before."
"We'll have to go slow, get you used to it." The words were said softly, as if he were talking about something other than riding horses.
She contemplated his offer in silence for a moment. "And if I lose?"
"Three kisses." The offer was solid, firm, and sounded non-negotiable.
"Three kisses?" she asked. A hot thrill went through her. She'd already figured out that she more than liked his kisses, and Emma thought it was a bet she could afford to lose.
"Three goodnight kisses," Luke qualified.
"Does that mean three kisses before I go to bed tonight if I lose?" Emma wanted the terms of the agreement explained.
"No. It means one kiss a night for three nights in a row, starting tonight."
Emma felt the heat rush through her. He was watching her like a cat that was playing with a mouse, and she'd never felt anything like it before in her life. He was looking at her like he'd like to eat her if he could, and Emma was both flustered and flattered by his interest. A sense of urgency drove her to accept his bet, but the anticipation of winning the game had somehow lost her interest. She focused on how it would be to go out on the ranch with him tomorrow, ride horses by his side, and get to see everything from the back of a horse. For that reason she wanted to win the bet, but the thought of having to kiss him three nights in a row was another kind of torture altogether.
"Why do you want to kiss me?" The question slipped out before she could stop it.
He didn't try to deny it. "Because you're pretty and sweet and taste good."
"But I walk with a limp and--and--"
His face hardened and impatience came across his features. "What the hell does that have to do with it, Emma? It doesn't have a damn thing to do with how sweet you taste. Do you want to take the bet or not?"
"Yes."
"Three goodnight kisses against horseback riding." He motioned to her cards with the nod of his head. "Let's see what you've got." Emma laid down her cards and proudly showed him her full house. Two five's and three nine's were displayed.
He studied them for awhile before lifting his eyes to her face and laying down his own cards. His eyes glittered back at her and Emma couldn't even detect a trace of humility in his narrowed gaze. All she saw gleaming back at her was satisfaction. She licked her lips and looked down. Four tens screamed up at her from their place on the table.
Her eyes flew back to his as she felt his hand reach down and capture her wrist. Without wasting a moment, he pushed his chair back from the table, jerked her to her feet and swirled her around until she landed across his lap.
Her heartbeat accelerated and went wild as he pushed his fingers up through her hair and grasped her scalp. His eyes glittered into hers and his nostrils flared. He studied her and her pulse was held paralyzed until it started a vicious tattoo in her ribcage. He opened his mouth to speak. "I'll still take you riding tomorrow, but I get my kisses," he hissed out as he pulled her hair back to lift her face to his. "Starting now."
With the intoxicating promise of riding tomorrow resounding in her ears, his mouth latched onto hers and pleasure exploded through her. He pushed his tongue in between her lips, swirled it with hers, and Emma curled into his arms in stunned excitement.
She'd never felt anything that even came close to what he made her feel.
She was mildly shocked at the feel of the hardness coming from his lap pressing into her bottom. His arm held her to him tightly, and his grip was so strong it molded her curves to his chest.
Within seconds, she was panting against his mouth, and came to the stunned realization that he was doing the same and their inhalations bled together and his breath became hers. Emma held onto her sanity with grim determination but lost it when he lifted his mouth from hers. "Kiss me back."
His mouth landed on hers again, and Emma began caressing her tongue against his, much as she had done the other time, and when she did, he growled in the back of his throat and his hold tightened on her more fully. "I want you, Emma."
He smothered her in kisses. He ran his open mouth from her lips, to her nose, across her cheek, and landed on her neck where he began a sucking motion with his lips that speared Emma all the way through until it landed in a heated rush between her thighs. She gasped against him.
He moved his hand from her hair and slid it down until he was cupping her breast. Another tingling sensation shot through her, and when she moved her legs to relieve the frustration he groaned again.
She tried to find her voice. "That's more than one kiss, Luke."
"Not yet." His answer was muffled in her neck, and as he slid his face back to her and his lips landed on hers, she felt his thumb swipe back and forth against the burgeoning tip of her nipple.
Pleasure, intense and hot, spiked through her and her trembling limbs clung to him. The pleasure manifested itself in her lips and tongue where she kissed him back fully, hard and deep with everything inside of her she had to give.
Luke almost died when he felt the change come over Emma. She was more than sweet and pliant in his arms, she was hot and willing, and he didn't know how he'd be able to stop this at just kisses. But he knew he had to.
The few sips of alcohol he'd encouraged had loosened her up, but there was no way in hell he would ever take advantage of that. He wanted her to want him back, ached for it deep within his soul, and knew that in waiting for her to come to him, he would be gaining even more from her.
But he couldn't release her just yet.
She smelled like sunshine, like cinnamon and sugar, and he knew he'd never held anything like her before. He felt her spell wash over him, her softness becoming an addiction as her arms wrapped around his neck and held him tightly to her.
The craving he'd had seen the first time he saw her was becoming a need, his mind was already thinking ahead to tomorrow, and he knew that in addition to the riding lesson he'd promised, he was more than willing to give her a lesson in sensuality.
Emma felt Luke stiffen against her as he pulled her hands from around his neck and placed them securely at her sides. He ripped his mouth from hers and drew back from her. "Enough."
Confusion settled in her brain. The kisses they had shared had been wild, beyond anything she had ever hoped to experience, and now, as he pulled back from her and put a stop to them she felt almost gutted.
"Is there something wrong?"
"No. Not unless you want all your clothes ripped from your body and me deep inside you within thirty seconds." His words were rough, primal, his voice more so.
Emma shuddered as shock at the intimate picture he painted infiltrated her brain.
She'd never thought anything between them would go farther than kisses, and never in a million years had she expected him to want her after he found out her inju
ry was permanent.
It was an incredibly tempting idea.
Luke lifted her from his lap and set her on her own two feet. He held one of her hands in his while she steadied herself on the table with the other. "You best get to bed while I still have a mind to let you go."
For some reason, Emma found the thought of him having a hard time letting her go to bed alone extremely satisfying. Even though she knew her situation was becoming more precarious, his admission that he wanted her was sending a driving need through her that shocked her.
She looked longingly at him one last time and then started to turn away, but he stopped her again with a pull of the hand. "Remember Emma," he paused and swirled his thumb against the pulse point on her wrist. "You owe me."
Emma fell asleep that night to the seductive thought of him collecting.
Chapter Nine
Emma tied the bonnet under her chin and walked as quickly as she could into the kitchen where Luke was waiting for her.
When she walked into the room, his back was to her and he stood looking out of the kitchen window, drinking a glass of water. Her eyes ran over his tall form and she felt that stealthy excitement creep into her veins again. His shoulders were broad, wide and muscular, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and the back of his shirt was already damp from sweat, where he'd been outside working all morning.
She must have made a noise, because he turned and ran his eyes over her, and when he did, he made a choking noise and the water in his mouth was spewed back into the glass. He slammed the glass on the counter and cleared his throat, his eyes never leaving her as they ran up and down her body.
"What the hell are you wearing?" His voice was almost a roar.
"Britches," she answered, nonplussed at his question.
"Where'd you get them?" He sounded dismayed.
"I bought them in St. Louis," she answered matter-of-factly.
He was looking at her as if he were about to order her to change clothes.
She narrowed her eyes at him. "It's not a crime for women to wear pants, Luke."
"What would be wrong with a split-skirt?" he asked with an edge of censure to his voice.
"A split-skirt would have cost three times the price I paid for my britches, and these do the trick nicely."
Luke ran his eyes down the feminine curves displayed in all their glory. Heat inflamed him and he felt his cock, always semi-erect in her present, swell more fully. The girl was going to be the death of him. "Fine. Let's get a move on."
Emma followed him to the door where he stood holding it open. She slipped past him out into the fresh sunshine and inhaled deeply of the clean scent of the sunny day. Freedom. That's all she could think of at the moment; finally being out of the house without having to sneak out.
As they walked side by side to the corral, Luke questioned her. "You've never ridden before?"
"I rode a pony once when I was a child."
"Is your lack of experience because of your leg?"
"No, we just never had horses at the orphanage. Not even work horses. And Mrs. Carson, my past employer, never believed a lady should ride on horseback. She had a horse and buggy, and I learned to drive it. I was quite good at it. We went everywhere."
"Why aren't you still with her?"
"She died," she replied simply.
"And now you're going to be a seamstress."
"I have to have work."
"Why don't you just get married again?"
How should she answer that? He didn't seem to think her injury wasn't an impediment to marriage, so what could be her reason for not seeking out matrimony again? She couldn't think of a suitable reply but she needed to say something. "I didn't care for marriage." She could feel the heat rise on her face when she gave that answer, but he was turned away from her, busy saddling the horses, and she didn't think he noticed.
He smoothed his hand over the rump of the prettiest little mare that Emma had ever seen and turned to look at her. "I wouldn't like it either."
For some reason his answer sent a coil of pain rushing through her belly. "Why not?"
"Don't know. I haven't given it much thought." The only married people he spent any time with were Maria and Jesse and the couple wasn't usually together when he saw them. He was either working with Jesse, or in the house while Maria finished up her chores. But as far as he knew, they got along fine, had a nice family, and that was that. So why didn't he want to get married? When he was younger, there was always the prospect of riding into town on Saturday night and raising hell. Finding a game of cards, having a few drinks in the saloon, and finding a willing woman seemed about the most fun there was to be had. But lately, as he got older, going into town for any reason was a more of a burden than an enjoyment. Going out and finding sex used to be something he wanted to do; lately though, it was something he had to do. And there was a huge difference.
The time he spent when he wasn't working was precious to him because there was so little of it. Lately, all he wanted to do with his free time was relax on his front porch with a cup of coffee or a shot of bourbon as he watched the sun go down. No, chasing into town on a Saturday night didn't bring the enjoyment it had when he was younger.
And even so, marriage seemed like it would be a noose around his neck. Even though his ranch was thriving and more than plentiful, he always knew in the back of his mind that if it failed, he could saddle up his horse and take off, wander around until he found a new place to put down roots. With a wife he wouldn't be able to do that. He'd be taking on the responsibility of not only a woman, but any children the union would bring.
And there was also the sexual and emotional aspect of marriage. It didn't bother him so much the idea of having sex with only one woman for the rest of his life, but more like, what if he chose the wrong woman? Marriage wasn't something you could easily get out of, it was a commitment he'd be making for the rest of his life. What if he married a shrew, someone that couldn't stand him, someone that didn't enjoy sex for what it was?
His mind turned to the game of poker he'd shared with Emma the night before and the game of checkers before that. If he thought about it at all, he figured that's what marriage was supposed to be like. Those few hours he'd passed in her company had been relaxing, even though he'd been sexually on edge most of the time. She was good company, undemanding, and her face and form were pleasant to look upon. He actually couldn't remember any time in the recent past when he'd had a better time.
But his emotions were volatile around Emma and that worried him. He'd never much cared what other people did or the chances they took. But Emma was different. The day he'd found her surrounded by snakes haunted him. He remembered the edgy, paralyzed feeling he'd had when he thought how close he'd come to ignoring that nagging feeling in his heart that something was wrong. She could have died so easily. And he'd been so angry with her. He'd never wanted to take somebody over his knee as badly as he'd wanted to with Emma that day. But he knew he couldn't. He was supposed to protect her, not endanger her, and the response she'd wrought in him made him uneasy.
He'd felt something almost violent that day. If he could have ripped her clothes from her body and expressed his feelings in a sexual way, he would have been able to calm down and know she was safe. If he could have had her under him, could have sunk into her and held her in his arms, felt her heart beating in her neck and under her breast, it would have gone a long way to relieve him of his fear. But he couldn't have that, he didn't have a sexual relationship with her, and his anger and fear had manifested itself in another way. He'd wanted to spank her bare bottom until she understood how scared he'd been, how much danger she'd put herself into, and make her see that she couldn't take chances like that again.
Emma needed to be in a nice town with nice people and nice doctors in case she ever needed one. If he ever married, the woman he married needed to be made of sturdy stuff, be able to saddle her own horse, needed to be able to run if the circumstances warranted it, needed to b
e able to tolerate the rough life living on a secluded ranch would bring.
Emma couldn't do those things. She was small and delicate with little wrists and tiny ankles and a leg that denied her the ability to get anywhere quickly.
He thought about the hot kisses they had shared the night before and the kisses he intended to give her before the day was over. Judging from her response to him, and his to her, no doubt Emma would make the kind of lifelong lover he'd choose if it were up to him. She was soft and beautiful, full of heat and desire, but he couldn't have her for keeps, even though he intended to be her lover before she left for Denver.
His voice was sharper than he intended when he spoke again. "I doubt I'll ever get married. Ranch life would be too hard for a woman."
Emma moved up beside him to run her hand lovingly over the mare's flank. "Maria seems to enjoy it," she said absently as she gave her attention to the animal.
"Maria's old. You're young."
Emma turned to him, a stunned expression on her face. "What do I have to do with anything?"
He studied her a long moment, trying to see inside her woman's mind. "Just making it clear to you now that even if I was in the market for a wife, you'd never fit." His words were harsher than he intended, but he said them more as a warning to himself than to her.
Her heart-shaped faced paled and sudden tears glistened in her eyes. But it took only a moment before her spine stiffened and she held herself rigidly before him. "I don't remember offering my services in that kind of domestic arrangement, sir."
"I didn't intend to hurt your feelings, Emma."
"You didn't. You couldn't," she denied.
"Then why are you crying?"
"I'm not crying," she hissed. "I'm not the one who's been instigating kisses. I've never thrown myself at you and hardly think I need a warning that I'm not good enough for you or your ranch. I'm not stupid enough to think you'd ever want a wife who is lame." Her words coming to an abrupt end, she lifted her hand from the animal and turned away from him.
