Desert Storm

by Ryan, Nan

  “Wh … what?” She sniffed, catching her breath.

  “We’re going to march into that big warm bathroom,” he said, and rose with her in his arms. Crossing the room, he said against her flushed, tearstained cheek, “And we’re going to get you undressed and into a hot tub.” At the tub, he bent, still holding her in his arms, and started the water. “Then—” he smiled and took a seat on a velvet stool, settling her comfortably on his lap “—we’re going to eat our supper right here in the bathtub.” His hands went to the buttons on her bodice.

  Wiping at her puffy eyelids with the back of her hand, Angie gave him a weak smile. “Pecos, you are crazy.”

  “Maybe,” he conceded and deftly went about undressing her. “All the same, that’s what we’re going to do.”

  To Angie’s delight, Pecos meant exactly what he said. When he’d stripped her of her clothes and deposited her in the hot, soapy tub, he kissed her softly and whispered, “Give me ten minutes, love. Promise you’ll not run away.” He dipped a finger into the thick suds and touched it to her small turned-up nose. “I love you; be right back.”

  Angie giggled happily when he returned shortly carrying a big silver tray weighted down with sliced ham, cheese, bread, fruit, pastries and a bottle of wine with two sparkling glasses. “May I serve you, madam?” he asked in a clipped, cool voice.

  “Yes, you may,” she commanded, “you may hurry up and get into this tub.” She reached over the tub’s rim and took a bunch of grapes from the tray, plucking the sweet morsels from the stalk and popping them into her mouth. She rolled her red-rimmed eyes with approval. “Pecos!” Angie sputtered in indignation when he entered the tub with such eager exuberance that soapsuds splashed all over her grapes.

  Laughing, he relieved her of the sudsy grapes, and putting his arms around her he murmured naughtily, “I’m sweeter by far than those grapes.” His hand went to her wet chin, tilting it up to him. “Kiss me.”

  Angie touched his full lips with a finger and sighed. She brushed her mouth to his for a minute and retreated, her eyes holding his. “I love you, Pecos,” she whispered, “so much.”

  “Oh, my baby girl,” he said hoarsely and kissed her tenderly, carefully restraining the heated passion surging through his big, wet body.

  They sat relaxed in their tub and giggled like children while they feasted on ham and cheese and clinked their glasses together before sipping the red wine. In their bed, Pecos held her close in his embrace and told her of his day on the cold range and his plans for improving the large herd and repairing some of the barns and stables.

  He didn’t make love to her. He didn’t try. Sensitive and deeply in love with the small, abused girl in his arms, he held his desires in check, determined to make her know that it was love he felt for her, not lust.

  Angie fell asleep in his arms. Pecos lay awake in the shadows of the dying fire, still holding her close, silently telling himself that it mattered not that she’d been a prostitute. He loved her and he would always love her. Together they would forget there had ever been a Hurricane Gussie’s, that some evil man in her past had beaten her and that she’d been the wife of Barrett McClain.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  LIFE AT TIERRA DEL SOL had changed. Miss Emily was overjoyed to have her nephew back home and went around the big mansion singing in her sweet, high-pitched voice. Her happiness added a blush of color to her pale cheeks and a sparkle to her china-blue eyes. Pecos made it a point to spend a few moments of his time each day in the company of his appreciative aunt. Emily was more like a dear, older sister than an aunt, and Pecos loved her and knew that he had always been the most important person in her life. If he promised her they’d have an early breakfast together, she could count on him being in the big, warm kitchen before the sun rose. Pecos always kept his promises to Miss Emily.

  Delores was almost as happy to have him back as his aunt. Magically the meals served at the dinner hour became great feasts served in elegant style. It was no coincidence that the entrées were the foods that had always been Pecos’s favorites. Delores fussed about in the kitchen all afternoon, snapping orders to her helpers and reminding forgetful cooks that Pecos McClain liked his meat crispy brown on the outside and pink and juicy inside. If a huge roast of beef had been left in the oven too long, fiery Spanish reprimands could be heard throughout the lower floors of the big house and the evening’s menu promptly altered.

  It was the same with the vaqueros and cowboys who worked the big ranch. Most of the men had known Pecos since he was a boy. They all respected his judgment and willingness to pitch in and work alongside of them, and liked his easygoing manner and sense of humor. Never a man to take himself seriously, Pecos was just as often the butt of a joke as he was the instigator, and either way no one laughed louder or got a bigger kick from a good gag.

  The hard, taxing labor was less tiring when the likable young man engaged in a project with them. Unlike his late father, Pecos didn’t push the men beyond their endurance. He had an uncanny talent for knowing which hand was not up to par, and he was compassionate enough to see to it that such a man was assigned a lighter work load for that day. The cowboy was left with his pride intact, and when he was himself again, he was naturally eager to knock himself out for the young McClain.

  Since Pecos’s return, a lot of work had been undertaken. The cattle had been herded closer to the inner ranges and fed thousands of bales of hay. One hundred prime British steers had been ordered for the herd. Barns were being painted and repaired, the corrals mended and the plank fences whitewashed. Saddles were soaped and polished, horses curried, doctored and exercised, broncs broken, rigging repaired.

  From the moment Pecos returned, everyone at Del Sol became more alive. Though his first three days were spent at the mansion with Angie, the hands knew he was back and would soon be among them. That knowledge made things hum.

  Pecos McClain was home.

  PECOS HAD BEEN BACK for five days, by far the happiest Angie had ever known in her life. If someone had told her that the fiery, passionate Pecos McClain was also a wonderfully sensitive, gentle man, she’d not have believed it. Now she knew it was so. Life with such a man was glorious.

  Angie looked into the flames shooting high up the chimney of the big library, thinking about the preceding night. Pecos had protectively held her while she had cried, murmuring over and over how much he loved her and how he would never hurt her, never allow anyone to hurt her. She could still see the tender expression in his gray eyes while his sculpted lips hovered near her face, his voice, deep and consoling, filling her with trust and serenity.

  Angie lazily rose to her feet to look at the carved clock on the marble mantel. She sighed. Only two. She still had hours to wait before Pecos would come bursting through the door. She’d been asleep when he slipped from their warm bed at dawn and she’d not seen him since last night when he’d been so loving and considerate.

  A pang of longing swept through Angie. Pecos hadn’t made love to her last evening. She knew it was out of kindness and caring, not coldness or disinterest. Cheeks flushing hotly, she let her mind slide backward to the last occasion when they’d made love. A tingling spread throughout her body, as she vividly recalled their cozy coupling in front of the fire, and the time, just before the dawn, when Pecos had kissed her all over, loving her in a way she’d never …

  Angie turned and hurried from the library and found herself in her room, undressing. She chose a pair of wool trousers and a blue silk blouse, realizing her intention was to take a walk in the cold. Should that walk take her near to the corrals where Pecos was helping to mend loose and falling planks, well, it would merely be happenstance.

  Angie swung a heavy black wool cape around her slender shoulders and hooked it beneath her chin. Jerking her long blond hair from under the cape, she released the heavy, tumbled mass, letting it spill down her back. She was grinning happily by the time she stepped out the back door and into the big yard.

  Most of the s
now had melted, and the brilliant winter sun was rapidly drying the sodden ground. By tomorrow the road into Marfa would be suitable for travel. She would have a carriage brought around and make that visit to the attorney’s office.

  The mud squishing beneath her feet, Angie walked directly toward the outbuildings of the big ranch. She heard their singing long before she saw the working men. Their laughter and shouts filled the cold air and Angie shivered. The deepest, most pleasing voice of all belonged to Pecos. He was singing a romantic Spanish love song with the vaqueros. Angie had no idea what the words were, but their meaning was unmistakable.

  Angie rounded the corner of a big white barn and paused. Fifty yards in front of her, Pecos sat astride a tall plank fence, hammer in his right hand, keeping time with the song as he pounded nails through the new wood. His heavy woolen jacket had been thrown off and the chambray work shirt he wore was stained with sweat. The muscles in his long back rippled each time he lifted the hammer.

  The song ended and whistles and applause came from the happy working men. Angie, too, silently applauded. As though he could feel her presence, Pecos’s dark head turned. He saw her and a big smile formed on his full mouth. Angie’s heart quickened erratically as he swung a long leg over the fence and dropped lithely to the muddy ground. His eyes on her, he released the hammer and it slid from his fingers to the earth. He turned and said something to his men in Spanish.

  Then he was coming toward her. He neared her and it was all she could do to keep from running to him to fling herself into his arms. She stood still looking at him, her pulse pounding in her ears at the sight of his rugged handsomeness. He was all male and raw magnetism. Her eyes appraised the lean length of him, and she suddenly felt she’d made a big blunder by coming here. She wanted him now, wasn’t sure she could wait until nightfall.

  “Hi.” His deep voice was a gentle caress and his breath was warm upon her chilled face.

  “Hi.” She felt almost shy, in awe of him.

  “To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked, gently slipping his long fingers around her neck. Turning her he led her away from the corral.

  “I … I … Pecos, you’re not angry with me for coming?”

  “My beautiful girl, I could never be angry with you.” He pulled her beneath his arm, fitting her small body to the longer length of his. “I’m delighted that you came to see what we’re doing. It’s going really well; we should finish by tomorrow night.”

  “That’s wonderful,” she said as she smiled up at him. “I should let you get back to work, but I … Pecos, aren’t you cold?”

  Pecos chuckled. “No, honey, but I’ll bet you are. You shouldn’t be out …” He fell silent, remembering her reaction to his teasing threat of a spanking the night before. Quickly amending, he murmured warmly, “I’m glad you’re here.” He kissed the golden crown of her head and reached for her small, cold fingers. Gripping them loosely, he whispered, “Come with me, baby.”

  His pace quickened and Angie had to rush to keep up. They walked farther and farther from the corral. Pecos led her down a slushy incline, and Angie knew where he was taking her. The empty stable where she’d first seen Ángel. And Diablo. Angie said nothing; she looked up at Pecos’s face but couldn’t read his expression. They reached the corral gate. Pecos threw it open, handed Angie inside and followed. He again took her hand and she soon found herself inside the barn, Pecos slipping the latch back in place, shutting them inside the dim, hay-filled enclosure.

  Angie slowly turned to look at him.

  “Know what happened in this place?” Pecos was leaning lazily back against the door, his hands loosely riding his trim hips, his gray eyes slowly sweeping the room. His gaze returned to her.

  “Tell me.” Angie breathed, feeling the electricity flowing from him.

  “Come here.”

  “No,” she managed, “you come to me.”

  Pecos pushed away from the door and slowly walked to her. He stopped directly in front of her and his lean hand went up into her hair beside her left ear. Angie’s senses were assailed with the male scent of sweat and tobacco and new lumber. It worked like a powerful aphrodisiac. She inhaled with a soft little moan and lifted her hand to the warmth of his chest. Curling her fingers into the opening of his shirt, she felt her legs growing watery. Pecos’s eyes were on her mouth and her lips began to tremble.

  His long arm went around her waist to pull her close.

  Angie held her breath. Pecos pushed her heavy blond hair aside. His sharp white teeth sank into the side of Angie’s sensitive neck while his hand at her waist slid lower. Angie shivered and automatically tossed her head. Pecos stayed with her, half biting, half sucking her tender warm flesh. Heat was spreading rapidly through her trembling body and her heart was racing. A gentle throbbing began low in her stomach.

  Pecos’s warm open lips moved up to her ear. He slowly pulled her long cape apart and pressed his face to her silk-covered breasts. Gently he moved his face upon her, his hot breath burning through the slick barrier of her blouse. Clasping her narrow waist with both hands, Pecos purposely nuzzled the soft swell of her beasts, his nose gently nudging at the hard, straining nipples. Tiny sounds of pleasure came from Angie’s parted lips. She arched her back, pressing herself against him.

  Pecos straightened and again looked down at her, his eyes hot and silvery with passion, his voice husky. His burning eyes held hers while a lean hand slipped between their pressing bodies to unbutton her trousers. Trembling from the touch of his warm, smooth fingers lightly grazing her stomach, Angie’s breath grew labored. Against her hip and thigh she could feel his genitals rapidly swelling.

  “Oh, baby …” Pecos whispered hoarsely, “Will you let me …”

  Breathlessly, she nodded her assent. “Take me, Pecos.” It was a plea.

  Pecos shuddered at her words and his lips took hers savagely as unchecked passion flamed through them both. Angie swayed weakly against him, molding the soft contours of her heated, eager body to the hard, masculine solidness of his. Her hands were roaming upon his back, down his corded ribs and over his denim-covered thighs.

  Their fierce, hungry kisses continued while Pecos slid slowly to the floor, taking her with him. On their knees, Pecos, his mouth never leaving hers, unhooked Angie’s long heavy cape and pushed it from her shoulders onto the straw. His searing lips pressing hot kisses to her throat, he eased her down onto the spread cape.

  Angie watched him straddle her, his eyes glazed with passion, as he bent and tugged the tight trousers down over her hips and off. Naked from the waist down, Angie moaned when his lean, brown fingers went to her stomach and he whispered, “You’re so beautiful, so sweet.” His hand slipped up to tease at a jutting, silk-draped breast as his lips lowered to her bare belly, igniting her with warm kisses. Feeling she’d surely burst into flame, Angie put a hand into the thick hair of his head and murmured mindlessly, “I love you, I love you.”

  Pecos stood abruptly. Her milky breasts swelling painfully beneath the silk blouse, Angie watched admiringly while Pecos peeled his tight denim breeches down his slim hips and thighs. Shamelessly her emerald eyes caressed the engorged male rod of power springing from its bed of blue-black hair covering his groin. Angie moaned low in her throat and trembled with anticipation.

  Pecos, ignoring his sweat-stained shirt, fell back down beside her. A possessive hand went into her hair at the side of her head and his lips were back on hers, nibbling, playing, drinking. One long, dark leg came over hers and his knee wedged itself between her parted thighs, pressing tightly against that aching, throbbing part of her. Angie frantically rubbed against him, yearning, burning, hurting.

  Angie’s glazed eyes closed as Pecos very gently turned her over onto her stomach. His strong hand swept fleetingly over her bare buttocks and he murmured thickly, “Let me love you, darling.”

  Angie didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her throat was too dry, her senses were reeling, and at that moment in time Pecos could have done anything t
o her and she would have let him. Her need was growing by the second and she wanted him to take her in any and every way he pleased. With her cheek resting on her spread woolen cape, Angie sighed as his strong hands encircled her waist and, slipping possessively to her hips, lifted them into the air. She was on her knees now, her face still pressed to the cape.

  Then Pecos was on his knees behind her; clutching her hips tightly he shoved his tumescent tube of fire into her. Angie gasped with ecstasy as he began the powerful driving thrusts deep within her. He was kneeling behind her, his hands guiding her hips, great groans of pleasure ripping from his throat.

  Pecos leaned over her and braced himself with open palms to the floor on either side of her. Angie could feel his warm weight pressing upon her back and she sighed when his fiery open lips touched her neck. Her pleasure escalated as he pumped into her and he rasped, “God in heaven honey, you’re so …”

  Pecos rose, bringing her up with him, his hands gripping her shoulders. He sat back on his heels, her soft squirming bottom pressed firmly to his hard thighs, his swollen male-ness still buried in her. His hands slipped under her arms to fondle her silk-covered breasts, his fingers circling their diamond-hard nipples. Angie gasped and turned her face to the side, pressing her golden head back into the curve of Pecos’s neck and shoulder.

  “Pecos,” she breathed as he pressed scorching kisses to her flushed, beautiful face. Angie panted mindlessly while she ground her hips. His hand moved down between her legs, gently searching until it found that sensitive, throbbing nub of female flesh. Angie gave a strangled cry when Pecos began to expertly caress it, increasing her pleasure with alarming intensity.

  The way he was loving her was new and wild to Angie. All inhibitions slipped away, and she forgot that they were two civilized, thinking, intelligent human beings. She gasped and moaned, oblivious to anything save the powerful male behind her, jarring into her with unrestrained insistence and need.