The Barons of Texas: Tess

by Fayrene Preston

  And then there were the pictures, many of them, on the tables, on the mantel and on the walls.

  She started with the wall closest to her and worked herway around the room, turning lamps on and off as she went. A picture of a young bride and groom in sepia tones caught her attention. From the age of the picture and the style of the clothes, she realized it was probably a picture of Nick’s grandparents on their wedding day. The young man in the picture looked as if he were about to burst with pride. The young woman’s face was full of joy.

  Farther on, Tess found another picture of the young woman, only this time she held a baby boy in her arms. The baby had to be Nick’s father. As the years passed in pictures, she saw the baby grow into a young man, go off to war and return. His marriage to a lovely young woman was celebrated on another wall. Next, the picture of another baby boy appeared—Nick, she guessed—and, soon after, another baby, a girl, Kathie.

  There were no more pictures of Nick’s parents, but on another wall she found yearly school pictures of both Nick and Kathie. A smile touched her lips as she went from picture to picture, witnessing Nick turn into the man he was when he graduated from college.

  At his college graduation, his proud grandparents stood on either side of him. Kathie must have been taking the picture, she reflected, studying it. Since that picture, Nick had filled out; the lines of his face and body had matured, hardened. But on the day of his graduation, his amber eyes were filled with nothing but happiness and dreams.

  She lingered over that picture the longest, wondering about the years between his graduation and now. Since she’d met him, she’d seen him express many emotions, but none of them had been the pure happiness that had been on his face the day of his graduation. As for his dreams, she supposed excavating the Águila was his dream. Had that also been his dream back then? Did he have other dreams? And, if so, what were they?

  There were other pictures, of course—Kathie’s wedding, her two darling little girls, growing up in each succeeding photo.

  Now she understood why Nick’s grandparents wouldn’t let go of this house. Their entire life was right here in this room.

  “A lot of pictures, right?”

  She stilled, then slowly turned to face Nick. One look at him jolted her to the present. He was wearing only a pair of faded jeans. Everything else—his broad chest, his sinewy arms, his flat abdomen—was bare.

  And his jeans left very little to the imagination. The softlooking denim closely followed the muscled length of his hips, thighs and calves and intimately cupped the large bulge at his crotch.

  The sight made her mouth go dry. “Pictures? Yes, there are quite a few.”

  As he leisurely made his way toward her, shadows from the lamp’s light shifted over his face and body, creating mysterious markings and contouring. She should turn her back to him and return her focus to the pictures she’d been studying. That was exactly what she should do. But she couldn’t.

  As was his way, Nick held her complete attention.

  “Kathie and I offered to take down all the pictures and put them up in their new home, but they wouldn’t hear of it.”

  He reached her side, and she could smell soap and heated bare skin. He was too close. She should move, but the intensity of his gaze, such a contrast to the gentleness of his voice, held her where she was.

  “My grandmother said if we took the pictures down, they would leave faded spots on the wall. We offered to put up new wallpaper, but they said no. They love this wallpaper. They put it up after my dad came home from the war, and they don’t want it taken down. They said the pictures belong in this room, on this wallpaper.”

  A sleep shirt and a pair of panties didn’t constitute a lot of clothes, but at least she was more covered than he was. Why, then, did she feel practically naked? “I think they’re right.”

  In the quiet and darkness of the house, they were both speaking softly, as if the room required a reverence. Plus, she knew—and more than likely Nick did, too—that all he had to do was say one wrong word and she would be ready to argue with him again. But she didn’t want that to happen, and she sensed he didn’t, either, not here, not in this room with its generations of love, laughter and remembrances.

  She glanced at him and saw a new heat glinting in his amber eyes. Damn. She could feel the heat on her skin and in her blood. It was clogging her lungs and fogging her mind.

  Then he dropped his gaze to her breasts. “I don’t remember that shirt looking as good on Kathie as it does on you.”

  His husky voice grated along her nerve endings, bringing even more heat. Automatically she looked. Her nipples were hard, their rigid tips clearly visible against the T-shirt. Color rushed to her cheeks.

  Awkwardly she crossed her arms over her breasts so that her hands were on her upper arms. “Uh, did I miss some pictures? I didn’t see any of your great-grandfather.”

  “There aren’t any.” He reached for her hands and pulled them away from her breasts. “Don’t cover yourself.”

  If she stayed, something was going to happen that she didn’t want to happen. She could feel it in her bones. The situation was too ripe for seduction, something she wasn’t emotionally equipped to handle right now. Anger tangled with the heat, stress with the excitement of his nearness.

  “You know, I think I can sleep now.” Her heart was beating so hard, so loud, she could barely hear her own words.

  “Liar,” he whispered. “You could no more go to sleep now than I could.”

  “You’re wrong. I could.”

  “I’m right. Besides, don’t you want to hear more about the pictures?”

  She hesitated. The insanity of it was that she didn’t want to leave. “As long as we stay on the subject of the pictures.”

  He slowly smiled at her. “Okay. According to my grandfather, his father would never allow any pictures to be taken of himself.”

  “What about pictures of his wife and of your grandfather as a boy?”

  He reached out for several strands of her hair and wound them around his fingers. “I like your hair loose and free.”

  She tried to move away, but his hold on her hair kept her close. “You’re off the subject.” Apparently the heatin him, in her—had absorbed all the air in the room. She could barely breathe.

  “So I am, and I’m sorry. But…” He rubbed the strands of hair between this thumb and fingers, as if fascinated by their texture.

  She reached up and, as best she could, untangled her hair from his fingers. “The pictures?”

  “The first picture ever made of my grandfather was on his wedding day. He was twenty-two years old.”

  “That’s very sad.”

  “Yes, it is. In some ways, my grandfather led a very sad life, even a dark life, until the day he met my grandmother. Unfortunately, though, not even she could banish all the sadness of his childhood. It has stayed with him his entire life.”

  “That’s a shame.” She knew all about how a parent could color a child’s existence. In fact, she knew more than she wanted to know. “Still, this room is a testament to a full life that was well lived. It must make them both feel good.”

  Deliberately she moved away from him. Heat, desire and passion permeated the air that surrounded him. Under the circumstances, she shouldn’t be anywhere near him. But as she strolled to another part of the room, she could feel his gaze on her—that damn ability of his to touch her even when the length of a room separated them. It was an amazing skill, a dangerous skill.

  “No matter what my grandparents have had to go through in life, they’ve always had their love. To this day, they are as in love as they were on their wedding day. And you’re right, theirs has been a life well lived. Unfortunately, according to the doctors, my grandmother will soon be alone. At this point, the doctors are not even sure what’s keeping my grandfather alive.”

  He paused. As she sensed he wanted her to, she looked at him. Then and only then did he go on. “But Kathie and I know what it is. So d
oes my grandmother. He’s waiting for something to happen. He has a great will, my grandfather does.” He shook his head in admiration. “He’s said he’ll know when the end is near. And when the time comes, he wants us to bring him back out here so he can die in this place where he was born, and where his son was born, and where he raised Kathie and me.”

  Tears filled her eyes, but she hastily blinked them away. “I suppose a person couldn’t ask for much more than to die in a place they love, surrounded by people who love them.”

  “No, I don’t suppose they could.”

  She made her way to an old Victrola. A stack of records sat atop the lid, and she pulled off a few to read the labels. Except she couldn’t really see the song titles. She was too overcome by the powerful emotions that this room and the people who had lived here had evoked in her. Damn it! She didn’t even know them.

  Obviously sadness had been a large part of Nick’s grandparents’ lives. For one thing, they’d lost their only son and daughter-in-law. But their pain hadn’t stopped them from taking two small, hurting children into their home and life and spinning happiness and love around them until they felt safe and cared for. No matter what else, Nick’s grandparents had a full grasp of what a family should be. It was something she’d never been taught.

  By preserving this house, this room, Nick and his sister were returning their grandparents’ love. And though Nick hadn’t said so, she would bet this house would be kept just as it was now long after his grandparents had left this world.

  In her family, love expressed or shown had always been in short supply. She’d been almost four when her mother had died. Jill had been just three, and Kit had been two. Their mother’s early death had left the three of them to be raised solely by their father, a man who, if he had possessed any emotions, kept them to himself.

  Sometimes, when she tried real hard, she could conjure up a memory of her mother tucking her into bed at night with a kiss and a hug. But she couldn’t be sure if the memory was a true one or simply one she desperately wanted to be true.

  Briefly she wondered if her life would have turned out differently if, after her mother’s death, she’d been raised by people like Nick’s grandparents. It was hard to say, and ultimately it didn’t matter, anyway. If she’d learned nothing else from her father, she’d learned the uselessness of crying over spilt milk. She glanced at Nick who was leaning against the fireplace mantel, watching her.

  “Why couldn’t you sleep?” he asked, his voice carrying that same huskiness it had when she’d been standing beside him. “Is it because you’re still angry at me?”

  She replaced the records. “That and other things.” It was all she was willing to say on the subject. Her anger and worry were justified, but anger didn’t belong in this room, and her worries were none of Nick’s concern. “I’m sorry if I woke you. I tried to be quiet when I came in here.”

  “I wasn’t asleep, and I didn’t hear you. I couldn’t sleep, either.”

  “Why couldn’t you sleep?” she asked softly, unable to resist the jab. “Guilt?”

  The corners of his mouth turned upward in a rueful smile. “Maybe.”

  In the half darkness, in the silence, neither his face nor his body language gave her a clue as to what he was thinking. But if she’d had to guess, she would have said he was probably thinking of new ways to win her agreement to what he wanted of her.

  She supposed she couldn’t blame him. This room had given her a glimpse into what was driving him to recover the Águila’s treasure. It was family. Ironically, it was the same thing that was driving her to strike a Class-A oil field, and it was as vitally important to her as the air she breathed.

  He broke the silence. “It’s a long-standing habit of mine to come in here when I can’t sleep. Even as a kid growing up, I’d come in here when I was having a restless night. Often I’d stay in here so long, I’d fall asleep right there on the couch. Then, sometime in the night, my grandmother would come in and cover me with one of her afghans. I’d wake up warm and rested.”

  And loved, she silently added. “I can understand why this room would have a soothing effect on you.”

  “Can you?”

  Suddenly she remembered that she was wearing only a T-shirt. The fact that she’d forgotten in the last few minutes spoke volumes about how Nick and the room had affected her. Another few minutes and she would completely lose touch with reality. “I’m going back to my room now.”

  “Don’t.”

  She looked at him in surprise. “Why?”

  He made a vague gesture with his hand. “I could make us some hot chocolate, and we could talk some more.”

  Hot chocolate and conversation with Nick. Amazingly, it was a much harder offer to turn down than it should have been, but she couldn’t afford to hear any more about this room or Nick’s family. She had to keep her mind on what was important to her rather than on what was important to Nick. Again, something surprisingly hard to do.

  “No.”

  She didn’t see him move, but suddenly he was in front of her. “Then how about this for a reason? Because I don’t want to let you go just yet.”

  She tensed, ready to resist when he pulled her into his arms, but he surprised her yet again. He didn’t. Instead he merely took a step and closed the distance between them.

  “I should know better than this,” he whispered, slowly lowering his mouth toward hers. “I should have learned after what happened between us in the kitchen.” She could feel the breath of his words on her lips. “But you…there’s you, and I don’t know what to do about the way you make me feel.”

  She had plenty of time to move away or say no. But she did neither. She waited, listening, understanding. One moment the wanting wasn’t there. The next it was. Inside her, full blown and impossible to ignore. And when finally his lips touched hers, she almost sighed with relief.

  This kiss was unlike any other that he’d given her. It was unhurried and so gentle that she couldn’t find any reason to resist. Their bodies were touching, but his hands weren’t on her. And the pressure of his lips continued to be delicate, undemanding. Yet somehow, as he moved his mouth back and forth over hers, he still managed to find and awaken every nerve ending in her lips until heated sensations seeped through her, spreading, expanding.

  She’d never experienced anything like it. He was only kissing her, yet she’d never been more aroused in her life. Her breasts began to ache. If only he would touch them. Heat pooled between her legs until the area throbbed. If only he would put his hand there and stroke her, fill her…

  She was in agony, but he continued at his own slow pace. His kisses remained gentle, as if he were memorizing every aspect of her lips—their shape, their softness. At that moment she actually felt as if she could die of need for him. Stifling a groan, she parted her lips. She had a fierce need to have him thrust his tongue deep into her mouth, but instead, he lightly nipped at the edges.

  She swayed toward him. Her breasts with their rigid tips touched his bare chest, and she almost cried out at the pleasure that shot through her. It was a new kind of torture, and she could feel herself coming undone. Winding her arms around his neck, she stood on her tiptoes and pressed herself against him. Her body badly needed the contact. He was the source of incredible pleasure, and her body was craving it, him.

  “Nick,” she whispered, almost in pain, and threaded her fingers through his hair.

  “Tell me,” he whispered.

  If her life had depended on it, she couldn’t have expressed a clear thought. A low sound came out of her, saturated with frustration and need. Then his hand closed around her breast, and his thumb flicked her nipple. Fire scorched through her. Moaning, she closed her eyes and writhed against him.

  Time became suspended as he backed her up until she felt the wall behind her; then he lifted her. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his hips and held on to him with all her might. His kisses turned harder, and at last his tongue delved deep and strong in
to her mouth. His hand slid beneath the T-shirt and this time closed around her bare breast. It was what she’d been wanting, needing, but she couldn’t even enjoy it, because by this point she wanted more, so much more.

  Feelings were rapidly closing down all thought, but some distant part of her brain was still working. Her body was vibrating with a crucial need for satisfaction, and in another few moments Nick would give it to her, but…

  She felt him lift her bottom, adjust his stance, then he was pressing harder against her at the juncture of her thighs. Denim rubbed back and forth against silk panties. His hips rotated and thrust against her sensitive, pulsing flesh beneath the silk.

  Oh, she wanted this. She needed this. And she could have it. Just another minute, less. But…what would be the cost to her? Her fingers tightened in his hair. “Stop.” The word wasn’t a whisper, more an amalgamation of feelings and sounds. She didn’t even know what part of her it had come from, and in the next moment, she wished for it back.

  Nick halted all movement. A hard shudder violently racked his body. “Did you say stop?” His voice was broken, hoarse, pain-filled.

  “No. No. Oh, Nick. I want you so badly… But…please help me.”

  An agonized noise rumbled from his chest. Slowly, with tremors shaking his whole body, he eased both of them away from the wall. At first she wasn’t certain she had the willpower or the strength to let him go. She waited. Finally she managed to unwrap her legs from around him.

  He dropped his hands away until the only thing holding her to him was her arms around his neck, but once again, she had trouble letting him go, yet she knew she had to. Doing her best not to meet his eyes, she loosened her hold, and her arms fell to her side.

  Breathing in great gulps of air, Nick stepped away from her and turned his back to her.