by Linda Conrad
“At the beginning. Or on the day that things changed.”
Sam leaned his elbows on his knees, hung his head and stared at the floor. “Everything changed the day my mother died. None of us has ever been the same. My father and my youngest brother are gone for good now and my little sister is…” His voice turned hoarse and he coughed.
Grace kept her own voice even, trying not to sound either sympathetic or accusing. “I know your father died in prison while serving time for your mother’s murder. And I remember you telling me the story about your little sister being kidnapped. It seemed like a heck of a lot of misery and trouble for one family. What happened to Denton?”
“It was a lot of misery—collapsing around us all at once. And most of it was my fault. After my father first went to jail, I stepped into the role he had always wanted for me. At nineteen I was head of the Bar-C ranch.”
Shaking his head, Sam continued slowly, “Our extended family, all the aunts and cousins, wanted to split us kids up. The plan was for every relative to take a kid into their home, but none of them lived in Chance. Travis and I rebelled against the idea. I was adamant that the family stay together. I was so full of myself and so angry at my mother and father for leaving us alone that I refused to let well-meaning relations come to our aid.”
He stopped for a second, breathed. The memories seemed to be too much for him to take, but he soldiered on. “Travis was old enough to stand beside me on refusing a split. We didn’t want the family broken up any more than necessary.”
“I can understand that. But…”
“I was wrong. I couldn’t handle it. I shouldn’t have tried. I hated running the ranch. It consumed my every waking moment. And trying to be sure that the little ones were well taken care of weighed heavily on my mind. So months later when my mother’s sister offered to take Cami into her home, Travis and I readily agreed. What did we teenage boys know about raising a four-year-old girl?”
“Sam, that wasn’t your…”
“I was in charge.” He’d said the words so forcefully that Grace closed her mouth and just listened. “I had made arrangements for our housekeeper to stay on and saw to it that we were fed and had clothes to wear. I could’ve found someone to come and take care of Cami, as well. It turned out my aunt June made sure Travis graduated from high school and that the younger boys kept up with their grades. Maybe she…”
His words scattered and dropped off, leaving Grace to imagine he must be thinking not only about his sister but also what had happened to his youngest brother.
“There was a lot of anger in our house in those days,” he said. “Besides being mad at my parents, I was furious with myself for letting Cami out of my sight. But somehow we managed to get by like that for a couple of years. Each of us living our own miserable lives. Except for Travis. He insisted on helping me run the place. He was good with the ranch hands. Great with the paperwork. All the stuff I hated.
“Eventually he took the bulk of the work off my shoulders.” Sam looked up at the ceiling, still not seeing her.
He seemed lost in his misery. “I guess Travis was meant to run the ranch in the first place. I should’ve let him take charge earlier. Later, after Denton died and I left town, Travis finished raising our brothers and he made the Bar-C into the showplace it is now. I could’ve…”
As his words ran out again, Grace felt she should break in. Tell him that it wasn’t his fault. Not everyone was cut out to do every job in this world. And he’d faced more tragedy as a young man, no more than a boy really, than anyone should ever have to take.
But what she said instead was, “How did Denton die? You’ve never said.”
“I’ve never said because I haven’t talked about it. Not to anyone. Not ever.”
Pressing his lips together, Sam remained silent for a long time. Just when she was about to give up, stop his reminiscing and beg him to stop thinking about what couldn’t be changed, he finally began his story.
“Denton was eleven. He came to me one day and asked if he could help out by joining the ranch hands who were working in one of our westernmost pastures. I was too busy to pay much attention. Other responsibilities seemed a lot more important. I told him yes just to get rid of him.”
Sam stood and began to pace. “What was I thinking? An eleven-year-old kid has no place out on the range without supervision. At the very least, I should’ve sent someone with him.”
She saw him tense as the painful memories stabbed into his mind yet again. He didn’t deserve to do this to himself. No matter what had happened. But how could she be the best help?
“Sam.” She stood and went to his side. Stood in his way and made him quit pacing and look at her. “Tell me all of it. You have to get everything, every single memory, out in the open now before it eats you alive.”
Grace heard her own words, knew somewhere deep in her psyche that she should be telling herself the exact same things, but this moment belonged to Sam. She could bury hers deep inside the same way she’d been doing for years.
Taking his hands in hers, she waited and held her breath. He shrugged, tried to look away.
“Please.” Tugging at his hands, she forced him to focus back on her face. “It’s me. You know I won’t judge.”
Swallowing hard, he gazed into her eyes and began, “It was a stupid mistake. A kid’s mistake. Denton wanted to join up with the hands who’d been stringing fence wire. I guess he thought he could take a shortcut to reach them before lunch by racing his horse over a seldom-used pasture.”
Sam stopped and narrowed his eyes at her. “Even expert riders need to take it slow when riding on uneven ground that isn’t familiar. Remember that.”
She simply nodded. Afraid to stop him by making any comments.
“The tragedy must have begun when his horse stumbled into a prairie dog hole. We’re not entirely sure of the sequence of events after that. Apparently Denton tried to rein in the horse, but the animal had twisted his leg and may have been spooked. By a rattler. Or maybe an armadillo. Anyway, somewhere along the line, the horse reared, threw my brother and landed on him. The horse survived. My little brother didn’t. A grown man might’ve lived through such a fall, but not a kid.”
The tears in Sam’s eyes were too much for Grace. She stopped him from speaking by cupping his cheek.
“You weren’t any more than a kid yourself. Stop taking all the blame for an accident you couldn’t control.”
He looked as if he wanted to pull away, hunker down into his pain.
So she went on, trying to make him see. “Even if you’d been there, he might’ve still died. Isn’t that right? An accident can happen at any time.”
She lowered her voice to a whisper. “You’ve already paid for the minor mistake of being young and in way over your head. You’ve paid many times. Think of all the people you’ve saved since then. In the army. As a Marshal. The people who might’ve died if not for you.”
“You don’t understand.”
Now her eyes were misting over. In that instant she would’ve said anything, done anything, to take away his hurt. He had already been so good to her and Mikey. He’d literally saved their lives and their hearts. He didn’t deserve the pain of facing his demons alone.
“You seriously believe I don’t know about guilt?” she asked. “That I’ve just been the victim in my life?”
“No.” He’d said the word too forcefully. Of course he thought that. Everyone thought that.
But she let it slide. This was about him.
“Well, I do understand,” she insisted. “What I don’t understand is why you can’t see how much you’ve already given back. Don’t you know that Mikey and I might be dead if not for you?”
“Maybe.”
“Definitely. You need to accept that you did what you could and pitched in when it was needed the most. You gave Travis the time and training he had to have in order to take over the ranch. He was too young when your mother died to step right up, but you did. You did
n’t turn and run, Sam. You stayed and tried your best.”
“I suppose. But…”
Seizing the moment and interrupting him, she screwed up her courage and tugged at his neck, bringing his lips close enough for a kiss. He shut up but jerked upward, just enough to remind her that she was enormously vulnerable. What would she do if he pulled away?
She prayed. Like she hadn’t prayed since the kidnapping.
At that moment the look in his eyes changed. And the air in the room changed. Her whole world tilted on its axis.
He was hot for her. The sadness in his eyes had ignited to flames. And his obvious lust succeeded in turning her into a puddle of jelly.
She couldn’t fix everything with a kiss. Couldn’t take away his guilt or wave a wand and let him have a do-over on his youth. She couldn’t even give him the promise of a brighter future.
But hopefully she could make him forget for one night. Together they would soar, high above the pain and the memories. Just for one night. Just for Sam’s sake.
Before she could move, though, he breached the void between them, leaned down and opened his mouth over hers. Then deepened the kiss. Oh, yeah. His mouth was amazing. Hot. Wild. Hungry.
His hands went to her hair, pulling her close as he sensually ran his fingers through the strands. The promise of the night of her dreams was there. In his touch. In his taste.
Clinging to him, she felt his body tighten, growing hard against her belly. The heat between them was setting her on fire.
She’d waited her whole life for a night like this. But believed she would never have one since Jose had ruined her for most men. But not for Sam. She needed this night every bit as much as Sam did. Maybe more.
So when he lifted his head and leaned back, she panicked. Made a squeak of protest.
“Easy there.” He scooped her up in his arms and held her close to his chest. “Where are…?”
His voice was so raspy she could barely understand. “For God’s sake, Grace. Where’d you put the protection?”
* * *
Sam’s heart pounded nearly out of his chest as he carried her down one flight of stairs, retrieving the box from the master bedroom. Mikey was sleeping peacefully and Sam wanted to be sure he stayed that way.
He carried Grace and the box into his old bedroom, carefully laying her on his bed. He was unsure of how to proceed. But when she looked up at him and smiled, the doubts fled and everything was a go.
As he began to undress her, he marveled at how lovely she was. It had been a long, very long, time since he’d made love to a woman. So long he couldn’t remember the face or the name.
Now, Grace filled his head. Visions of her and his growing hunger. Suddenly he wanted to consume every bit of her. Wanted to inhale her, surround her, learn the details of what made Grace.
She’d been through a lot physically and emotionally, and he wanted this to be good. Nonthreatening and skillful. Noticing how his hands shook as he unbuttoned her blouse and lowered her jeans’ zipper, he tried not to accidently touch her wonderful, warm body. Not yet.
He’d spent months battling this desire, but for Grace’s sake he had to be strong. And gentle. Patient.
Slowly, so slowly he felt like screaming, he dragged the jeans down her hips and off. Then he helped her shrug out of the blouse, until she was left in bra and panties.
Only then did he feel too well covered. But with two quick jerks of cloth, his own shirt disappeared.
The intensity in her eyes as she gazed at his bare chest and farther on down to his waistband mesmerized him, making him fumble fingered and slow. When she impatiently reached for his belt buckle, he froze.
As her warm fingers slowly lowered his zipper and pushed at his jeans and underwear, he sucked in his ab muscles and forgot to breathe. Then the tables turned and it was her breath that caught when he sprung free of the cloth restraints. The sounds she made thankfully woke him up enough to kick the jeans aside.
Lying on her back on the bed, she was quiet as she watched him strip. What a tantalizing picture she made. The thing he couldn’t figure out was how to go slow and fast at the same time.
Desperate to make this good for her, he fought to stem his recklessness. Nice and easy. He wanted it better than good. The best. Because he knew that’s how making love with her would be for him.
Patience.
Leaning closer, he pressed a knee into the bed beside her. The warmth of her hip connected to his thigh and the physical connection seemed to overpower any last-minute jitters. From both of them.
She reached out to him again, and he found himself straddling her hips without missing a step. The whole room was electric with anticipation as she took both of his hands with her own and placed them to her breasts.
Wanting more than just a touch through the material of her bra, Sam reached around her back and, sight unseen, undid the hook. For a second he was surprised he could remember that youthful trick from so long ago, but the growing heat in her eyes cleared his mind of everything but pleasing her.
He slowly peeled the lace away from her breasts, revealing the most enticing sight. The hard tips of her nipples were nearly purple. Flushed with desire. Losing a little control, he couldn’t help it. Touch would not be nearly enough. Lowering his head, he drew a nipple into his mouth and rolled his tongue over the tip.
She arched and squirmed under him. “Oh, Sam. That’s so good. Your mouth is so hot. Feels…I…I…”
Wild for her, he sucked and laved, nipped and then soothed. Her moans and moves fed his hunger.
Easy does it.
Kissing his way up her chest and neck, he found her lips and feasted on them. She clutched at his arms and dug her nails into his shoulders.
This was going way too fast. She’d sent him to a level of arousal that neared the danger point. He pulled up and leaned back a little, staring down at the most beautiful sight he could ever remember. Grace, eyes wide with passion, licked her lips and murmured about her needs.
“Please hurry,” she managed in the most erotic whisper.
Their gazes locked, and what he saw was not purely passion. There, in those eyes the shade of rare bourbon, he saw trust. And it amazed him. Humbled him.
Changed him, in subtle ways he could not have expected.
Once more she took one of his hands and drew it down her body to the small scrap of material at the juncture of her thighs. Apparently Grace wasn’t happy with the pace he’d been setting.
If he hadn’t been so close to a dangerous edge, he might’ve smiled at the idea. Instead he rubbed their joined hands against the wet cloth, then let her fingers go, urging her with silent moves to open her legs. She relaxed, her legs opening wider. And then he cupped her, caressing and enticing.
Sliding a finger underneath the material’s edge, he skimmed lightly across her damp curls.
“Sam.” She sighed his name, but he heard the tension building in her voice.
The fire inside him threatened to take him far too soon. It was one thing to go easy, and quite another to drive them both insane.
“Take the panties off,” he ordered in a shaky voice.
She scrambled to remove them as he fumbled with the condom box. His fingers seemed twice their normal size and too clumsy for the job. When at last he had a foil packet in hand, he knew he was sunk.
Tossing it at her, he begged, “Open it and cover me.”
Her fingers shook, too. But she ripped it open with her teeth. Then while making little whimpering noises, she unrolled it over him. When done, she flopped back down on her back with a nervous little laugh and watched him carefully.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” he said with his own chuckle. “You’ve gotten us this far.”
Grabbing her up against his chest, he rolled them both over. She lay sprawled across him, breathing heavily and sounding more tense and desperate than ever.
“You do the work.” His voice sounded reedy and too damned shaky. “Set the pace for us. It’s your night,
sweetheart, I give you my body. Take us where you want us to go.”
He helped her sit up, her legs straddling his hips. “Sam, I don’t know how to do this.”
Finding her core, he checked her readiness. Wet. And so hot he thought her skin might spontaneously combust.
“Go with your instincts.”
* * *
Pressing her lips together with determination, Grace came up on her knees. She had no idea what she was doing but she wouldn’t let him down. She wouldn’t let herself down. This was all new and Sam had given her a gift she wanted to earn.
He helped her by fitting his erection to the exact right spot on her body. The spot that was the most sensitive and now was aching. Slowly she began lowering her buttocks onto him. Slow. Careful.
“You’re incredible, sweetheart. You feel so good.”
Good Lord, the freedom he’d given her. The power. She’d never felt anything like it.
Sam laid back, sensually watching her every move with dark passion in his eyes. Just his expression drove her to a brand-new level of arousal.
Suddenly empowered and emboldened, she leaned forward and stopped the movement of her hips. Easing upward, she kissed his chest and then gazed into his eyes.
“Grace.”
She didn’t move. Not one muscle.
“Gracie, you’re killing me here.” Those might’ve been his words, but he never moved a muscle, either.
He froze, waiting for her decision. Her move was first? No matter what? The man was remarkable. She would never forget this—or him.
Taking pity, and needing to ease the tension curling tight inside her own body, she sat back up and let him slide in all the way. Sam had been right. She felt incredible.
The moment she seated herself and rocked her hips, he groaned and thrust upward. Suddenly everything was a whirlwind of movement. In and out. Slow than fast. Together they set a pace, then changed it at will.
Every move taught her something new about her own body. The powerful sensations he created within her drove her to a torrid kind of pleasure she had never known existed.
Finally time ceased to exist. Thought ceased to exist.
