"If I was hungry, I'd be eating, wouldn't I?" he muttered indistinctly. She shrugged. "Then go right ahead and starve if you want to.
.I couldn't care les ." He lifted the brim of the hat and glared at her. "Like hel you couldn't," he retorted. "You and your pristine lit le conscience would sting for months." ' *
Not on your account," she as ured him as she finished the ham. "After al , you're starving yourself. I haven't done anything." "You've ruined my appetite," he said curtly. 152
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Her eyebrows arched. "How did I do that, pray tel ? By mentioning the word marriage? Some people don't mind get ing married. I expect to do it myself one of these days. You see, I don't have your blighted Out-; look. I think you get out of a relationship what you put into it." His green eyes narrowed, glit ering. "And just what would you plan to put into one?"
"Love, laughter and a lot of pil ow talk," she said without hesitation. "I expect to be everything my husband wil ever want, in and out of bed. So you just go right ahead and have affairs, Mr. Jes up, until you're) too old to be capable of it, and then you can live alone: and count your money. I'l let my grandchildren come and visit you from time to time."
He seemed to swel al over with indignation. "I can get married any time I want to," he said shortly. "Women hound me to death to marry them!" Her mouth made a soft whistle. "Do tel ? And here you are pushing forty and stil single. ."
"I'm pushing thirty-six, not forty!"
"What's the difference?" she asked reasonably.
He opened his mouth to answer, glared fiercely at her| and then jerked his hat down over his eyes with a muttered curse. He didn't speak to her again until the plane landed in Texas.
"Are you going to ignore me the rest of the way?"| Mari said final y when they were in the Chrysler just a few minutes outside of Ravine.
"I can't carry on a civilized conversation without having you blow up at me," he said gruffly.
"I thought it was the other way around." She picked a piece of lint off her sleeve. "You're the one doing al | the growling, not me. I just said that I wanted to get married and have babies."
"Wil you stop saying that?" He shifted angrily in the seat. "I'l get hives just thinking about it."
"I don't see why. They'l be my babies, not yours."
He was grinding his teeth together. He'd just realized something that he hadn't considered. Cousin Bud was young and personable and hungry to set le down. Hed take one look at this sweet innocent and be hanging by his heels, trying to marry her. Bud wasn't like Ward; he was carefree and his emotions were mostly on the surface. He didn't have scars from Caroline, and he wasn't afraid of love. In fact, he seemed to walk around in a perpetual state of it. And here was Ward, bringing him the perfect victim. The only woman Ward had ever wanted and hadn't got. Bud might be the one. . Suddenly he slammed on the brakes.
"What!" Mari burst out, gasping as she grasped the dash. "What is it?"
"Just a rabbit," he muttered with a quick glance in In i direction. "Sorry."
She stared at him. She hadn't seen any rabbit, and he sure was pale. What was wrong with him?
"Are you al right?" she asked cautiously, her voice soft with helples concern.
11 was the concern that got to him. He felt vulnerable with her. That evidence of her soft heart wound strands around him, binding him. He didn't want marriage or ties or babies! But when he looked at her, he felt such sweet longings, such exquisite pleasure. It had nothing to do with sex or carefree lust. It was. . disturbing.
"Yes," he said quietly. "I'm al right."
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A tit le farther down the road he suddenly pulled into a shal ow farm road that was lit le more than ruts in the gras . It went beyond a closed fence, through a pasture, toward a distant grove of trees.
"My grandfather's place," he said as he turned off the engine. "My father was born out there, where you see those trees. It was a one-room shack in those days, and my grandmother once fought off a Comanche raiding party with an old Enfield rifle while my grand father was up in Kansas on a trail drive." He got out of the car and opened her door. "I know the owner," he said when she was standing beside him. "He doesn't mind if I come here. I like to see the old place sometimes."
He didn't ask if she wanted to. He just held out his big hand. Without hesitation she placed her slender one in it and felt tingly al over as his fingers closed warmly around it. She felt smal beside him as they walked. He open and closed the gate, grinning at her curious stare.
"Any cat leman knows the value of a closed fence," he remarked as he grasped her hand once more and began to walk along the damp ruts. It had rained recently and there were stil patches of mud. "In the old days rancher might very wel shoot a greenhorn who left gate open and let his cat le get out."
"Were there real y Indian raids around here?" sh asked.
"Why, sure, honey," he said, smiling down at her. "Comanche, mostly, and there were Mexican bandits who raided the area, too. Cat le rustling was big busines back then. It stil is in some areas. Except now they do it with big trucks, and in the old days they had to drive the herd out of the country or use a running Iron." She glanced up curiously. "What's a running iron?"
"A branding iron with a curved tip," he said. "It was used to alter brands so a man could claim another man's cat le. Here." He let go of her hand and found a stick and drew a couple of brands in the dirt, explaining how a running iron could be used to add an extra line or curve to an existing brand and change its shape entirely.
"That's fascinating!" she said.
"It's also il egal, but it happened quite alot." He put the stick down and stuck his hands in his pockets, smiling as he looked around at feathery mesquite and live oak trees and open pasture. "God, it's pret y here," he mild. "Peaceful, rustic. . I never get tired of the land. I gues it's that damned Irish in my ancestry." He glanced down. "My grandmother, now, says it's British. But just between us, I don't think O'Mara is a British name, and that was my great-grandmother's maiden name."
"Maybe your grandmother doesn't like the Irish," she suggested.
"Probably not since she was jilted by a dashing in Irishman in the war."
"Which war?" Mari asked cautiously.
"I'm afraid to ask," he said conspiratorial y. "I'm not quite sure just how old she is. Nobody knows."
"How exciting," she said with a laugh.
He watched her with a faint smile, fascinated by the change in her when she was with him. That pale, quiet woman in the bank bore no resemblance to this bright, beautiful one. He scowled, watching her wander through the wooded area where the old ramshackle ranch house sagged under the weight of age and rotting timbers and rusting tin. She made everything new and exciting, and the way she seemed to light up when he was near puzzled him, excited him. He wondered if sh might care about him. Love him. She whirled suddenly, her face il uminated with surprised delight. "Ward, look!"
There were pink roses by the steps. A profusion of vines bore pink roses in tight lit le clusters, and their perfume was everywhere*
"Aren't they beautiful!" she enthused, bending to; smel them. "What a heavenly aroma!"
"Legend has it that my father's grandmother, Mrs. O'Mara, brought those very roses from Calhoun County, Georgia, and nursed them like babies until they took hold here. She carried them across the frontier in a pot. In a Conestoga wagon, and saved them from fire, flood, swollen river crossings, robbers, Indians and curious lit le children. And they're stil here. Like the land," he mused, staring around with eyes full of pride.; "The land wil be here longer than any of us and very lit le changed despite our meddling." She smiled. "You sound just like a rancher."
He turned. "I am a rancher."
"Not an oilman?"
He shrugged. "I used to think oil was the most important thing in the world. Until I got plenty of it. Nov4 I don't know what's the most important thing any-! more. My whole life seems to be upside down lately."; He stared
straight at her. "I was a happy man until you| came along."
"You were a vegetable until I came along," she re-; plied mat er-of-factly. "You thought robbing people was al right."
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"Why, you lit le devil," he said in a husky undertone, and his eyes went a glit ering green. "You lit le devil!" She laughed because there was as much mischief as threat in that look. She started running across the meadow, a picture in her full gray skirt and pret y pink blouse, with her dark hair gleaming in the sun. He ran after her in time to catch the colorful glimmer of something, moving just in front of her in the gras .
"Mari!" he cal ed out, his voice deep and cutting and full of authority. "Stop!"
She did, with one foot in midair, because he sounded so final. She didn't look down. With her inborn terror of snakes, she knew instinctively what he was warning her about.
"Don't move, baby," he breathed, stopping himself just within reach of a fal en limb from one of the oaks. "Don't move, don't breathe. It's al right. Just stand i» perfectly stil . . He moved with lightning speed picking up a heavy branch and swinging his arm down, slamming. There was. a feverish rat ling, like bacon sizzling in a pan, and then only a bloody, writhing, coiling mas on the ground.
She was numb with unexpres ed terror, her eyes huge on that thing on the ground that, only seconds ago, could have taken her life. She started to speak, to tel him how grateful she was, when he caught her up in his arms and brought his hard mouth down bruisingly on hers.
She couldn't breathe, couldn't move. He was hurting her, and she hardly noticed. His mouth was tel ing her things words couldn't. That he was afraid for her, thatr he was glad she was safe, that he'd take care of her. She let him tel her that way, glad of his strength. Her arms curled around his broad shoulders, and she sighed under his warm, hungry mouth, savoring its rough ardor.
"My God," he whispered unsteadily, his mouth poised over hers, his eyes dark in a face that was pale under its tan, his breath rough. "My God, one more; step and it would have had you!"
"I'm al right, thanks to you." She managed to smile through the shaking relief, her fingers traced his rough cheek, his mouth. "Thank you." He lifted her against his body, as rugged as any frontier man would have been, his face mirroring pride an masculinity. "Thank me, then," he whispered, opening his mouth as he bent to her lips. "Thank me. ."
She did, so hungrily that he had to put her away from him or let her feel how easily she could arouse him. He held her by the waist, breathing unsteadily, watching he flushed face.
"We agreed that wouldn't happen again," he said.
She nodded, searching his eyes.
"But the circumstances were. . unusual," he continued.
"Yes," she whispered, her eyes fal ing to his har mouth with languorous remembered pleasure. "Unusual."
"Stop looking at me like that, or it won't end with kis es," he threatened huskily. "You felt what you we doing to me." She averted her eyes and moved away. Sometimes she forgot how experienced he was until he made a remark like that and emphasized it. She had to remember that she was just another woman. He felt responsible for her that was why he'd reacted like that to the snake. It wasn't anything personal.
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"Wel , thanks for saving me," she said, folding her arms over her breasts as she walked back to the car, and carefully she avoided looking at the dead snake as she went.
"Watch where you put your feet, wil you?" he asked from behind her. "One scare like that is enough." Scare for which one of us? she wanted to ask. But she was too drained to say it. Her mouth ached for his. She could hardly bear to remember that she'd inflicted this torment on herself by let ing him bring her out here. How was she going to bear days or weeks of it, of being near him and being vulnerable and having no hope at al tor a future that included him?
Chapter Ten
Ward was quiet the rest of the way to the ranch, but he kept watching Mari and the way he did it was exciting. Once he reached across the space between them and, found her hand. He kept it close in his until traffic in Ravine forced him to let go, and Mari found her heart: doing spins. She didn't know how to handle this new approach; She couldn't quite trust him yet, and she wasn't altogether sure that he didn't have some ulterior motive for bringing her back. After al , he wasn't hampered by emotions as she was.
Lil ian came quickly out to meet them, looking healthy and fit and with a healed leg.
"Look here," she cal ed to Mari and danced a jig. "How's that for an improvement?" She laughed gaily. |
"Terrific!" Mari agreed. She ran forward to embrace the older woman warmly. "It's good to see you again."
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"He's been horrible," Lil ian whispered while Wart was get ing the bag out of the car. "Just horrible. He moped around for days after you left and wouldn't eat at al ."
"He should have foreclosed on somebody, then,'! Mari said mat er-of-factly. "That would have cheered him up." Lil ian literal y cackled. "Shame on you," she said with a laugh.
"What's al the humor about?" Ward asked as he joined them, his expres ion tight and mocking.
"Your appetite," Mari volunteered tongue in cheek.
Lil ian had turned to go back inside. Ward leaned down, holding Mari's eyes. "You know more about (hat than most women do, honey," he said in a seductive undertone. "And if you aren't careful, you may learn even more."
"Don't hold your breath," she told him, rushing away before she fel under the spel of his mocking ardor.
"Where's Bud?" Ward asked as they entered the hal .
"Did somebody cal me?" came a laughing voice from the study.
The young man who came out to greet them was a total surprise for Mari. She'd been expecting Ward's Cousin to be near his own age, but Bud was much younger. He was in his late twenties, at a gues , and lithe and lean and handsome. He had Ward's swarthy complexion, but his eyes were brown instead of green mid his hair was lighter than his cousin's. He was a striking man, especial y in the leather and denim he was wearing.
"Have you been sneaking around after my bull again ?" Ward demanded.
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"Now, Cousin," Bud said soothingly, "how would I find him in there?' He jerked his hand toward the, study and shuddered. "It would take a team of secretaries a week just to find the desk!"
"Speaking of secretaries," Ward said, "this is my new one. Marianne Raymond, this is Bud Jes up. My cousin."
"Ah, the much-talked-about niece," Bud mummured, winking at Mari. "Hel o, Georgia peach. You sure do your home state proud." Ward didn't like Bud's flirting. His eyes told hit cousin so, which only made Bud more determined than ever.
"Thank you," Mari was saying, al smiles. "It's nice I to meet you at last."
"Same here," Bud said warmly, moving forward.
"Here, son," Ward said, tossing the bag at him. "You can put that in the guest room, if you don't mind. I'm sure Mari would like to see the study." Before anybody could say anything else, Ward had taken Mari by the arm and propel ed her none too gently into the study.
He slammed the door behind them, bristling with masculine pride, and turned to glare at her. "He's not marrying material," he told her immediately, "so don't take him too seriously. He just likes to flirt."
"Maybe I do, too," she began hotly.
He shook his head, moving slowly toward her. "Not you, honey," he replied. "You aren't the flirting kind. You're no butterfly. You're a lit le house wren, al feathered indignation and quick eyes and nesting instinct."
"You think you know a lot about me, don't you?" She faltered on the last word because she was backing away from him and almost fel over a chair. He kept coming looming over her with threatening eyes and sheer size.
"I know more than I ever expected to," he agreed, coming closer.. "Stop running. We both know it's me you want, not Bud." She drew herself up, glaring at him. "You conceited.. ”
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br /> He moved quickly, scooping her up in his arms, holding her off the floor, his eyes wavering between amusement and ardor. "Go ahead, finish it," he taunted. She could have if he hadn't been so close. His breath was minty and it brushed her lips when he breathed, Warm and moist. He made her feel feminine and vulnerable, and when she looked at his hard mouth, she wanted to kis it.
"Your office," she swal owed, "is a mes ."
"So am I," he whispered huskily, searching her eyes, is my life. Oh, God, I mis ed you!"
That confes ion was her undoing. She looked up at him and couldn't look away, and her heart felt like a runaway engine. Her head fel back onto his shoulder, and she watched him lower his dark head.
Open your mouth when I put mine over it," he In ral ied against her lips. "Taste me. ."
Her breath caught. She was reaching up, she could already feel the first tentative brushing of his warm lips when a knock at the door made them both jump. He lifted his head with a jerky motion. "What is it?" he growled.
Mari trembling in his arms, heard a male voice reply, "Lil ian's got coffee and cake in the dining room, Cousin! Why don't you come and have some refreshment?"
"I'd like to have him, fricas eed," Ward muttered under his breath as Bud's laughing voice became dimmer along with his footsteps.
"I'd like some coffee," she said hesitantly even though she was stil shaking with frustrated reaction her voice wobbled. He looked down into her eyes. "No, you wouldn't he said huskily. "You'd like me. And I'd like you, right there on that long sofa where we almost made love the first time. And if it hadn't been for my meddling, jealous cousin, that's where we'd be right now!"
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