Every day seemed an ordeal. Susanna was painfully aware that the men knew what had happened between her and Connor. It would have been evident to Miranda, who would have confided in her husband, and Ramirez would have told everyone else.
Susanna held her head high, ignoring the curious looks that greeted her when she went to the stables to saddle Santiago before riding out into the desert.
The long solitary roams over the hills and plateaus became her salvation. She raced the wind, and then she turned around to chase the clouds of dust that Santiago had kicked up. Sometimes she would scream out her anger and hurt, letting her voice rip through the burning air until her throat grew hoarse.
In the evenings, she tried to lull her exhausted body into sleep. Rest never came easy. The moment she closed her eyes, her treacherous mind imagined Connor beside her. She could feel his hands stroking her skin, could hear his voice whispering into her ear.
Mornings were both a release from the turmoil of the night and the start of a new day’s ordeal.
A whole week went by before Connor returned, on Monday, two days later than promised. Susanna was sitting down for dinner when he strode in, his face coated with dust. The sun had bleached streaks of gold into his sandy hair. Without a word of greeting, he pulled out a chair and sat down at the head of the table.
“Where have you been?” Susanna asked.
“Around.”
So that was how it was going to be. Two could play that game. Keeping her expression serene, Susanna cut another bite from the chicken on her plate and lifted the fork to her mouth. The food had lost its flavor. When she tried to swallow, she felt a hard lump in her chest and had to spit out the mouthful into a napkin.
“Excuse me,” she said and rose to her feet, carefully folding the soiled napkin over her half empty plate. “I seem to have lost my appetite.”
“Good,” Connor said. “I prefer it quiet over dinner.”
Upstairs, Susanna tried to control the tremors that had seized her body. It felt like shivering, but hot instead of cold. She undressed and washed. The fine cotton nightgown reached down to her toes. She left the lamps burning but closed the shutters. Then she lay down on the bed and waited, straining her ears.
She heard heavy footsteps on the stairs but they didn’t come to her door. Instead, the door to Connor’s room opened and closed. A few muffled sounds echoed through the wall. She guessed he’d sat down to remove his boots. A moment later, water trickled into a basin, followed by a splashing sound. Soft footsteps of bare feet crossing the room. A bang told her the shutters had been pulled.
Then there were no more sounds. Susanna waited. She lay awake until the both oil lamps in the room ran dry and guttered out. Connor didn’t come to her.
****
The next day, Susanna lingered indoors. Connor worked all afternoon with the yearlings but he came home for dinner. As usual, their conversation was limited to a few strained comments about the ranch. Susanna wished to settle where they stood, but she was too afraid to initiate a confrontation that might escalate to Connor leaving again.
After dark, she waited in bed, taking shallow breaths, listening. When Connor didn’t come into her room, she got up and crept down the hall to his door. Like the other night, which now seemed a lifetime ago, she closed her fingers around the brass knob. This time it turned. Susanna opened the door and tiptoed through.
Connor sat up in bed, leaning against the pillows. A single candle flickered on the nightstand. The flame glittered in his amber eyes as he looked at her. His bare shoulders made a dark shadow against the white of the bedding.
In silence, he held his arms out to her.
Susanna ran to him and threw herself against his broad chest. “Why?” she pleaded. “I don’t understand what you want from me.”
“Hush,” Connor said. He bent his head and kissed her, at the same time tugging at the knot at the base of her throat to loosen the laces of her nightgown. “Stand up.”
She scooted backwards off the bed and got to her feet. He swung his legs down and stood naked in front of her. Gathering the loose folds of her nightgown in his hands, he bared her inch by inch until he could lift the garment over her head. He let the fabric flutter slowly to the floor.
“Are you cold?” he asked as they stood facing each other.
“A little.”
“I’ll warm you.”
He settled his hands on her shoulders and began a long, dreamy journey over her body, covering every inch of her. After a moment, Susanna lifted her hands to his chest and began a similar exploration of his lean, muscled contours.
It seemed an eternity as they stood there, learning and memorizing each other. At times, Connor captured her gaze with his and held it while his callused palms traced her shape. At other times, he focused on some part of her, pausing to give it a detailed perusal—the curve of her shoulder, the nape of her neck, the narrow groove of her spine.
Finally, he bent his head and kissed the hollow at the base of her throat.
Susanna let out a strangled moan.
“Do you like that?” Connor asked.
“I like everything you do to me.”
“Good,” he said and bent to scoop her in his arms. “Did you miss me?”
“Yes.” It came on a sob.
“Good.” He lowered her on the bed. “I wanted you to.”
When he knelt down by her side and began to trace her body with his lips, her breathing grew shallow and soon turned into ragged gasps.
“Please,” she said, arching up at him.
“Be patient,” he said. “We have all night.”
He leaned over her and stroked her with a feathery touch until she was so crazed with need that she fought for a bolder contact. Gripping his wrists, she pulled his hands roughly against her breasts.
“I want you inside me,” she whispered. “Please.”
“Are you still sore from before?”
“No.”
Connor straightened by the bed, towering over her. He nudged her along the mattress and settled on his side next to her. One of his hands slipped between her legs to coax them open. Instinctively, Susanna arched her spine to meet his touch.
“So warm,” Connor said. “So soft and silky.” He rolled on top of her and eased her legs apart with his knees. Once he was settled in the cradle of her open thighs, he reached for her ankles, one at a time. Keeping his weight on his arms, he slipped her legs over his shoulders, first one side, then the other.
“Can you stay like that?” he asked.
Excitement gathered like tight knot inside Susanna. Connor’s face above hers was hungry and intent. Her legs over his shoulders tilted her up to him, leaving her exposed and vulnerable. She nodded, not trusting her voice.
“Tell me if it’s too hard and I’ll slow down,” Connor said as he eased inside her, slowly inching forward until he had fully penetrated her.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God” Susanna moaned. Her hips rose and fell, reaching out for him, finding all the distant corners inside her for him to stroke.
Connor withdrew slowly then pushed back into her. Stroke by stroke, he increased his speed and power, until he was thrusting in and out of her in a steady rhythm that rocked her on the mattress. Susanna threw her hands up over her head and braced them against the bedstead, anchoring her body to better meet his thrusts. Frantic cries of passion tore from her throat, breaking the quiet of the night. Connor made no effort to silence her.
Every single nerve in her body seemed to be on fire. Inside her, a tension coiled tighter and tighter, until it exploded in a glorious burst of pleasure. Her body splintered into a thousand sensations, all of which were Connor. In that moment, he was her entire world, and her will was no longer her own.
When the rippling waves of completion finally faded away, Susanna opened her eyes. Connor was leaning over her. Beads of perspiration glinted on his brow and the tips of his hair had gathered into damp strands against his skin.
“Are y
ou all right?” he asked hoarsely.
“I think I died,” Susanna said. “Or at least my bones melted.”
Connor released her feet from his shoulders but he didn’t slide out of her. “You haven’t…?” Susanna made a tentative motion with her hips, feeling the full sensation inside her that was still new and fascinating.
“Not by a long way,” Connor said. He rolled onto his side, taking her with him. With one hand, he hooked her thigh across his. Angling his hips, he eased deeper inside her. “I want you to touch yourself.”
Susanna darted an alarmed glance at him. “Touch myself?”
“Between your legs, next to where I am inside you.” He released his grip on her thigh, took her hand and tugged it down between their bodies.
Susanna inhaled a sharp breath. She tried to jerk her hand away from his. “I couldn’t…”
“You can, and you will,” Connor told her. His amber eyes locked with hers, a challenge glittering in them. “If you come into my bed, you’re mine for the night. Don’t resist.” He guided her fingers to the small, puckered bead at the top of her sex.
Susanna gasped. Her body jolted. She felt Connor move inside her, but at the same time there was another sensation shooting through her. “I’m all slippery and throbbing down there,” she whispered. Tentatively, she rolled her finger around the little nub. Instantly, a thousand shocks ran through her.
“Keep doing it,” Connor said. He folded his hand over her thigh to hold her steady against him as he moved in and out of her.
“Oh my God. Oh my God.” Susanna threw her head back, rocking side to side on the pillow. Her body quivered like a bow. She felt her legs shake out of control. The friction of her finger grew, as her body demanded a more urgent touch.
Connor slammed his entire length into her, over and over. She screamed, a frantic sound of passion that echoed around the room. Dark waves of pleasure rolled over her. She felt herself contracting around him in a rhythmic motion. With a guttural cry, Connor arched above her as together they heaved and convulsed through a little death.
Afterwards, Connor cradled her in his arms, and Susanna snuggled up to his warmth. Every now and then, he bent his head to scatter tiny kisses on her face. Lassitude filled her, a moment of pure happiness. As she drifted off to sleep, she cherished the feeling, for instinct warned her it might not last.
****
When Susanna opened her eyes to the morning light, she lay in her own bed. She was naked. Her nightgown hung in a tangle over the back of a chair. Not stopping to wash or tidy up her hair, she hurried to dress in her denim pants and cotton shirt and raced downstairs.
Connor was still at breakfast. Susanna burst in, eager to nestle in his arms, but a cool look from him stopped her short.
“What are you doing today?” she asked, taking her seat, trying to sound casual.
He returned his attention to the food. “There are some fences down at the east corrals where we drove the cattle last week. I’m riding out with the men to mend them.”
“Why are you using the corral?”
“I’m separating some stock for breeding.”
Susanna hesitated, more uncertain of herself than she had ever been in her life. She dragged out the moment, poured coffee from the pot on the table. Then she asked, “Can I come with you?”
“No,” Connor replied.
“Why not?”
“Because I said so.”
Her chin jutted out. “You can’t stop me from going wherever I want.”
“No. But I can ignore you when you get there. It’s up to you if you want the men to witness that.”
“Why?” Susanna picked up her coffee cup. Her hands shook and the coffee spilled, burning her fingers. A dark stain spread on the tablecloth, but she didn’t care.
Connor pushed his chair back and got to his feet. “Because you need to learn that you can no longer twist me around your little finger. I don’t come anymore when you whistle. You can’t give me that look of yours, with big eyes and trembling lips, and have me instantly offer you everything you want. Is that clear enough?”
Susanna’s mouth fell open. What did Connor think he was doing? Running a training school for meek and pliant wives? “You’re crazy,” she blustered. “You’ve totally taken leave of your senses.”
“In that case, you married a crazy man.” He strode to the door. “You know where to find me, if you want me to fulfill my marital duties tonight.”
Her eyes narrowed. She scanned the table. Her fingers closed over the heavy stoneware coffee pot. She weighed it in her hand, glaring at the door. Then she lowered her arm and let out a sigh. It wasn’t worth it. She’d lose a good coffee pot, it would cause extra work for Miranda, and a story would quickly go around that The Boss had driven his wife so mad she was reduced to hurling crockery.
She’d find another way of dealing with him. For the rest of the day, Susanna fidgeted around the house, coming up with schemes which were all equally hopeless. Putting a few finishing touches on the guest room for Claire cheered her up a little. The house was already gleaming, ready for a visit from her friend.
Unlike many others, Claire’s family hadn’t lost their wealth in the crash of 1893, and their millions remained intact. Claire was used to luxury vastly beyond what Circle Star could offer. Susanna hoped that she would enjoy her visit anyway, and would stay at least a month.
She wrote her friend another letter, a shockingly intimate account of the state of her marriage. She had to tell someone. Claire would recognize it as the cry for help it was intended to be, and would respond by traveling out as soon as she could.
When the night came, Susanna stubbornly remained in her own bed. Connor didn’t come out to her. She kept up her resolve for three nights. Then she crept over to Connor’s room. Like before, he was waiting for her. He must do it every night, Susanna realized—sit up in bed, awake, ready for her. Despite the desire the waiting had to stir up in him, he refused to give in to his need and seek her out.
After that night, Susanna gave up fighting. Each evening, she waited until she heard Connor come upstairs. Then she slipped into his room, shedding her nightgown even before she climbed into his bed. Time and again, he drove her into a sensual frenzy that claimed her more completely than anything she had ever dreamed possible. Every morning, she woke up in her own bed, where he had carried her in the quiet hours before dawn.
Susanna tried to stay awake as they lay together, sated and damp, but she always drifted off to sleep, and she never woke up to find herself being transported back into her own room in his arms.
In contrast to the physical pleasures of the night, the days were an emotional tightrope as she teetered between clinging to her pride and the yearning to be loved. The worst of it was that she couldn’t forget Connor’s comment about taking his needs to the whores in Cedar City. It would destroy her to discover that he did to other women those things he did to her in the darkness of the night.
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Chapter Twelve
Susanna contemplated Connor across the breakfast table. “Pete told me that while you’re working on your breeding project at the east corrals, you’ll brand the new calves born in the fall.” She paused, took a deep breath. “I want to be part of it.”
“No.” The single word sliced through the air with the force of a bullet. “Rounding up livestock and branding calves isn’t a job for a woman. For all we know, you could be pregnant.”
A blush heated her cheeks. “It’s too early to tell.”
“Perhaps not,” Connor said. “I can count days.”
Susanna fidgeted under his sharp gaze. So, her monthly flow might be a little late, but her cycle had always been erratic. “You seem very confident about your reproductive prowess,” she muttered.
“Don’t try to flummox me with long words.”
“Don’t pretend you don’t understand them.” Susanna stirred her coffee with such vigor the spoon rattled against the china cup. Longing to part
icipate in the roundup, she had planned her attack carefully but the conversation wasn’t going the way she’d hoped.
Connor helped himself to more eggs and ham. “It’s not you riding out to the range that worries me, but what you’ll do when you get there. I don’t trust you to obey my orders. If you have an accident, it’s a long way to a doctor.”
Susanna spoke quietly. “I thought we would run Circle Star together.”
Connor regarded her evenly. “We are running Circle Star together. Your job is to stay at home and manage the house and keep the accounts. My job is to oversee the men and deal with the cattle.”
“Pete could do that.”
“Are you telling me I’m surplus to your requirements?”
Susanna flinched at his harsh tone. “Don’t twist my words.”
“You’re not joining the men, and that’s final.” Connor returned his attention to the food on his plate. “I wasn’t going to tell you, but the cattlemen’s association in Cedar City has asked me to be the range boss next spring. The range superintendent has endorsed their choice.” He loaded his fork and took another mouthful.
Susanna seethed in silence while Connor chewed. She knew he was keeping her in suspense on purpose. The winter months were quiet on a ranch, and Connor could spend time around the house. In the spring he’d be working from dawn to dusk. Dozens of seasonal cowboys would join the permanent team of thirty, to herd up the cattle, dehorn and castrate and brand the new calves, and separate the mature steers to be driven to market.
“Most of Circle Star is fenced,” she pointed out. “We don’t have large numbers of livestock on the open range.”
“Some go through broken fences, and we have open range in the south. I can’t afford to lose a single head of cattle due to my unwillingness to pay proper attention to the spring roundup.” Connor paused to take another bite of food. “I told them that if it turns out my wife is expecting our first child, they’ll have to choose someone else.”
“Thank you for that small consideration.”
“If my wife isn’t suitably impressed, I can tell them that I changed my mind.”
Circle Star Page 14
