"Edna sent you over some fresh eggs and a jug a' milk-figured you could use some." Cade noticed then that ol' Deb was sort of fidgeting and looking sideways at Leila and blushing like a tongue-tied teenager, and when he glanced over at her, he understood why. She had her dimples turned on, full wattage, and was looking about as lovely and charming as it was possible for a woman to look. Deb rubbed a hand over his sunburned scalp and coughed. "I, uh…put up some of the mares in the corral, just in case the two of you were wantin' to do some ridin' while you're here." He sounded as if he thought the possibility remote, under the circumstances.
But Cade heard a gasp from somewhere behind him, and Leila's voice, breathless and excited. "Oh, yes, thank you!"
And he realized that he ought to be feeling grateful. He'd been given a reprieve. All was not lost, after all.
Sure, he thought, what he had to do was keep his wife out riding all day until they were both so worn out and saddle sore they wouldn't be thinking about doing anything tonight except sleeping.
And tomorrow, well…that was another day. He'd cross that bridge when he came to it.
* * *
"Hey, what do you think you're doing? Come back here!"
Leila's answer to that was a peal of laughter. Crouching low over her mount's neck, she urged the mare to full gallop. Sure-footed like all of her breed, the roan mare's hooves seemed to fly over the hard ground. Dark shapes of the trees Cade had called junipers flashed by on either side of her, and their spicy scent rose into the muggy air.
At the top of the gentle rise Leila had a brief and exhilarating glimpse of forever, and then her heart lurched into her throat as the mare plunged over the top of the hill and skidded down…down into a sandy valley. With a squeal of sheer exuberance she urged the mare on across the sand and up the slope on the other side. And there she finally halted, with the wind whipping her hair and the view before her stretching all the way to the base of billowing black clouds. Laughing and out of breath, she waited for Cade to catch up.
"What the hell were you doing?" she heard him bellow as his horse's chestnut head with a white blaze appeared atop the rise. A moment later she saw Cade's face, and it was dark and stormy as the thunderclouds that filled the sky above their heads. "What're you trying to do, get yourself killed?"
Somehow, though, Leila knew the light in his eyes was not anger, and she tossed back her hair and smiled as she called back, "Killed? No, no-I am living!"
"Huh!" Muttering soothing things to his mount and patting her sweat-soaked neck, he brought her beside Leila's. "Living?"
"Oh, yes-do you not know? I am living a dream. My dream." She threw her arms wide and lifted her face to the sky. "I have dreamed of this-riding like the wind…land that goes on forever."
"Yeah, well, the land may go on forever, but my piece of it doesn't. You see that down there?" He jerked his head toward the limitless horizon, and he was throwing his leg over the saddle in a dismount that Leila was sure only a man with long legs and the body of a cowboy could accomplish gracefully. "That's where my property ends. If you'd decided to keep on going to the next hill over there, you and the mare would've run right smack into a barbed wire fence."
Leila was quite sure nothing of the sort would have happened, and that either she would have seen the fence in time to stop, or the mare would have. And then, most likely, they would have jumped over it.
But a wife must not argue with her husband. "Please, do not be angry with me, Cade. If you only knew-"
"I'm not angry with you," he muttered as he ducked under the chestnut mare's neck and came into the space between the two horses. "Here-your stirrups are too short. Put your leg up."
"Oh, but I like them this way. I am learning to ride Western style-Rueben has been teaching me-but I am not very good at it. He said I should get used to it a little at a time."
Cade gave his head a shake. "Looks like you were doing okay to me." He tipped back the brim of his hat and squinted up at her. "Where did you learn to ride like that?"
She felt a warm little rush of pride, felt it spread right into her cheeks. "My brother has horses-I told you that, remember? At the polo match. Arabians, like yours. I used to ride a lot when I was younger, before-" She did not say, Before I became a woman, and no longer had the freedom of a child. "Before I got too busy with other things."
"Huh." He made a thoughtful sound and grudgingly added, "Well. Doesn't look like you've forgotten how." He looked at her for a long, silent moment, one hand on her saddlehorn, his arm resting on her horse's neck. He jerked his head and said, "Come on-get down for a bit. We'll give the horses a breather."
"A…breather?"
"A rest. Then I think we'd better be heading back. I don't like the looks of that sky."
Leila nodded and began to dismount. Then she stopped. She could not possibly manage the kind of graceful one-step dismount that Cade had used. Her stirrups were too short and her legs were, too. To dismount as she usually did, she would have to hold on to the saddle and lay her stomach across it while she freed her foot from the stirrup, then slide to the ground. But if she did that now, with Cade standing where he was, her backside would be only inches from his face. She was wearing jodhpurs, the only riding clothes she owned, and although they were not tight they did fit closely. If she was bending over, as she must, they could hardly help but outline her figure very clearly. The thought made her cheeks burn and her heartbeat quicken, but…not at all unpleasantly.
"Here-I'll give you a hand." He held out his arms to her, ready to help her dismount. His face had no expression at all. Even his eyes told her nothing; they were hidden in the shadow of his hat brim.
With pounding heart she considered her two choices. And then, with a sense of giving up a tiger in favor of a lion, she put her hands on his shoulders. She felt his hands, strong on her waist. Her throat closed and her breathing stopped.
Cade thought, what am I doing? He knew he should be more cautious around her, but something inside him was clearly enjoying this flirtation with disaster. He was like a child playing with matches, one old enough to understand the danger and arrogantly sure of his ability to avoid it.
Ah, but what a waist she had…slender and supple in his hands. Not so delicate and tiny he imagined his hands could span it, but firm and strong, with muscles that tightened under his palms as he lifted her down from the saddle.
He sensed a stiffening in her, too, that was more than the physical tensing of muscles, and to his profound regret, he thought he knew what it was. Not fear, exactly-he could see that she desperately wanted to feel at ease with him. It was as if she dared not allow herself to be. What she reminded him of-and his heart ached to realize it-was something he'd seen in Betsy's adopted strays, the guarded hopefulness of a once-friendly dog only lately grown used to unkindness.
Guarded. Yes. He understood, now, that where once she had been open to him, innocently eager and certain of her welcome as a well-loved child, now she was fortified against him. Against his rejection of her, at least. Pride had taken the place of innocence-she would not allow him to hurt her again.
The thought made him feel dismal and defeated, the more so because of the intensity with which he wanted her, right then, at that very moment. He remembered that night on the terrace overlooking the Mediterranean, his awareness that she was "forbidden fruit," and his wondering if she might have been the more desirable to him because of that. And if that was true, then what did it say about his character? Was he, Cade Gallagher, who prided himself on his honesty, on his sense of honor and responsibility, afterall no more than a spoiled, contrary kid, wanting what he couldn't have?
A sound interrupted his dismal reflections-the soft rumbling of a cleared throat. Then it seemed that the thunder picked it up and carried it off into a darkening sky like a rolling echo, while Cade gazed down into the flushed face and luminous eyes of the woman he'd married, and felt that same rumbling in the back of his chest…the bottom of his belly.
A dus
t devil danced across the crest of the hill and swirled beneath the horses' feet. While the animals sidestepped nervously, it sprang like a teasing sprite into the sky, and Leila's laughter rose after it as, taking no chances, she held on to her hat with both hands. The hat reminded Cade of the one he'd retrieved for her from the polo field, and he could see from the way she suddenly went still and the way her eyes clung to his that she was remembering that day, too.
The dust devil had gone on its way, but the wind still tugged at him, nudging him as though it was trying to get his attention. It came to him in a fierce little gust of exultation: She's not forbidden fruit. She's my wife. My wife!
The thought crossed his mind that, as reprieves went, that one sure hadn't amounted to much.
He watched himself insert a wondering, wary finger under the cord that was supposed to keep her hat from blowing off, and slowly…slowly pull it out from under her chin. Questions sprang into her eyes, but she held them back with strong white teeth pressing into the softness of her lower lip. Moving as slowly as he did, she lowered her hands and let him take the hat. But he could see she had no idea what he meant to do. She couldn't hear the blood rushing through his body, like the sound of wind inside his head, or the merciless pounding of his heart.
Her eyes never left his face as he looped the string of her hat over the horn of her saddle, then slowly took off his own hat and hung it right over hers. His breath felt heavy, and seemed to stick in his throat. Nerves jumped and quivered in his belly. And still she didn't know.
He put his hands on the sides of her head and smoothed back her sweat-damp hair with his thumbs. Tiny wrinkles appeared in her flawless forehead, like ripples in satin. He gazed at them, fascinated, while his thumbs stroked gentle furrows above her ears. And now she knew.
A faint sound…a tiny movement drew his gaze, and he saw that her lips had opened. He knew the question that must be poised there-he'd heard it once before. Do you want to kiss me? He also knew that she would never ask him that question again.
Remembering the sweetness of that time, the innocence, pain stabbed at him, ruthless and brutal. What have I done to her? With a guttural little cry, he lowered his mouth to hers.
The first shock that came to him then was how familiar she seemed. As if, during all the time since he'd last kissed her, his unconscious mind had gone right on learning the shapes, tastes and textures of her. He wondered now if he'd dreamed of her, those nights in the guest room or in the hotel room in Dallas, when he'd woken up with the sheets in a tangle and his body in a sweaty fever, aching with unfulfilled desire.
How unbelievably good her mouth tasted to him-his very favorite food when his belly was empty…cool pure water when he was dying of thirst. Like a starving man, he tried to remind himself to go slowly, to not be greedy, lest he overwhelm himself and her. And so he separated his mouth from hers and pulled back a little…but only a little, and only long enough to savor the misty puffs of her exhalations, so soft and sweet he thought it must be like a flower breathing. He thought of that, and of their own volition, just before they touched hers again, his lips formed themselves into a smile.
So caught up was he in his own sensations, he didn't notice right away that she was trembling. When that awareness did penetrate the blissful fog he was in, he felt a bright stab of pain. Like a shaft of sunlight, it melted away the insulating blanket of reason he'd kept wrapped around his emotions, and he felt the burn of desire…unsuppressed, unshielded, inescapable.
He had no defenses for it. He wanted her. Wanted her under him, her thighs making a cradle for him, and her breasts pillows for his chest. He ached to be inside her, to feel her soft, enfolding warmth around him. He wanted…he needed her, more than he needed his next breath.
A shudder rocked him from head to toe and a groan rumbled deep inside his chest as he let go of her head and wrapped his arms around her, enfolding her and bringing her body against him with all the restraint he could muster. It cost him dearly, that restraint; he could feel himself tremble. But oh, how good it felt to hold her, that marvelous body he'd never seen, so strong and supple he could feel every line and curve even through the clothes she wore. Avidly, he skimmed her body with his hands like a blind man exploring a new and wondrous gift. Eyes closed, he immersed himself in the sensual banquet of her body…the warmth and textures of her…the taste and smell, even the whimpering, whispering sounds-
No-that wasn't Leila. The horses. Close on both sides of them, they were tossing their heads and sidestepping, whickering nervously. An instant later there was a deafening boom. Cade jerked as if he'd been shot.
For one moment, Leila wondered if she had been shot. For this was just what she had always imagined it would feel like to suffer calamitous injury-a cold emptiness and no pain at all, only a trembling that would not stop.
"Are you okay?" Cade was holding her by the arms, looking down at her with dark, smoky eyes.
"Yes, of course." And she could not imagine how her voice could sound so okay when she was anything but. It was the night on the terrace all over again; she could not imagine how she would stand alone if he let go of her. Deciding she did not want to find out, she reached behind her with a surreptitious hand and grasped a stirrup for support.
"That lightning was close. We'd best get off of this hilltop before the next one comes." His voice sounded as if he needed to cough.
Leila nodded. Without another word she turned her back to him and reached up to grasp the saddlehorn as he bent down to make a stirrup for her with his hands. A moment later she was sitting in the saddle, calmly adjusting her hatstring under her chin as thunder rumbled and growled in the vast roiling sky above her head. That is how I feel, she thought, gazing up at it. So much darkness and tension and tumult.
She was glad to follow Cade down the slope into the sandy wash, then quickly up the other side…glad to break into a gallop when the first raindrops came. She had known thunderstorms, of course, but to actually be outside in one was very different from watching from the calm and safety of the royal palace, or Cade's solid brick house near Houston. Suddenly those endless vistas she'd longed for, that vast sky that had seemed to promise freedom and limitless possibilities, now was filled with violence and danger, forces powerful beyond imagining. It was awe-inspiring, yes, but frightening, too. And Leila was glad. Glad that her mind was all taken up with awe and fear and coping with powerful forces of nature, and that, for the moment, at least, there was no room left for thoughts of Cade, and what had just happened to her.
The first little shower passed quickly, hard pelting drops that stung like pebbles. But the storm seemed to be following them-chasing them, Leila thought. Spiteful Nature, bellowing and grumbling at two thoughtless trespassers and hurling handfuls of stinging raindrops at their backs. The day seemed to grow darker, until it seemed as though day had become evening. She could see the lightning flashes now, not just hear the thunder that came after, and she was glad when they reached the live oaks that told her they were coming close to the ranch.
They had been moving at an easy gallop, a gait Cade had told her was called a lope, riding single file, following a well-worn path through the trees because the sandy ground there was all but covered with clumps of low-growing cactus. As she followed along behind Cade, for some reason-perhaps because they were nearly home and shelter was not far off-Leila's thoughts began to creep back to the terrifying thing that had happened to her, there on the hilltop. Her thoughts were still full of awe and fear and powerful forces of nature, but now those things had a name, a face-Cade's.
She stared at his back as they loped along through the twisty, gray-green trees, thinking how strong and powerful he looked, with his broad shoulders and long, lean body, admiring the way he sat so tall and straight, with his butt firm in the saddle, the American-the Western-way. Like a cowboy. And her heart began to pound almost with the same rhythm as the horses' hooves. What is happening to me? she wondered. Something had happened to her when he kissed her, som
ething awesome and frightening. Something wonderful. She had trembled with it.
And then, like a lightning bolt, it struck her. It happened to him, too. I know it did. Because I felt him tremble, too.
Seized by a tremendous exhilaration, she urged her mount forward until she had caught up with Cade. There was barely enough room on the path for two horses to go abreast, but she nudged her roan mare right up beside the chestnut, until her leg brushed Cade's. She looked over at him, not smiling, her gaze intent and searching. He looked back at her…
There was almost no warning at all. Just a sizzling sound. An instant later a flash and a tremendous Crack.
Leila's mount tensed, then lunged forward in full stampede. It took Leila only a few seconds to bring the terrified animal back under control, and as she was walking the mare in calming circles, crooning to her in Arabic and patting her sweat-slick neck, Cade's chestnut mare came galloping past her, eyes wild, white-ringed with panic. Without Cade.
Chapter 11
Leila stared after the riderless mare, refusing to accept the evidence of her own eyes. Then her heart grew cold and she wheeled the panting roan sharply on the narrow path and raced back the way she had come. As she rode she called Cade's name and whispered prayers under her breath. Oh please, God, most merciful God, please let him be all right…
She found him without any trouble at all. Cade was only a short distance from the path, lying on his back on the ground with the upper part of his body raised and his weight on his elbows. Once she was assured- both by his position and the glare of helpless fury on his face-that her prayers had been answered, Leila's next impulse was to laugh. As she had laughed when her brother Rashid had been thrown from his pony once while they were racing on the cliffs overlooking the sea. Oh, how she had laughed to see the regal and arrogant Rashid flat on his backside in the grass! But crown prince or not, Rashid was only her brother. Cade was her husband! She should not laugh at her husband!
Virgin Seduction Page 16
