by Jeanne Allan
“I’m not an idiot. It stands to reason if he bit one of us, it would be better to bite me. I’m bigger. It wouldn’t take much venom to...with Crissie...” Her voice caught and she clamped down on her lower lip.
She’d scared the hell out of him. His heart had yet to return to normal and his stomach would never be the same. He wanted to kick her across the barnyard for putting herself in danger. He wanted to kiss her for being so brave. Then he wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her again until she promised never to do anything like that again. He settled for yelling at her. “That was the dumbest, most lamebrain thing I’ve ever seen. You’re not even wearing boots. Do you have any idea what rattlesnake venom can do if injected right into a vein?”
“That would have solved your problem, wouldn’t it?”
Damned woman didn’t even have sense enough to admit he was right and beg his forgiveness. “What the hell kind of gibberish are you talking?”
“You. And Bert’s gun. You shot those snakes,” she said accusingly.
“Yes, I shot the damned snakes.” If he lived a hundred lives, he’d never understand this woman. “Good thing I wasn’t expecting you to fall on my neck in gratitude,” he drawled in a mocking voice. It dawned on him that was exactly what he’d expected. If not for her to fall on his neck, for her to at least see him as her hero for saving her from a painful bite. After she begged his forgiveness for stopping his damned heart.
“Gratitude? You expect gratitude for that?” she asked, her voice rising. “When you just did the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen? What were you trying to do? Kill us so you could have the ranch?”
CHAPTER NINE
“KILL you?” If she was joking, Jake wasn’t amused.
“You could have shot us! Those snakes were only a few feet from us. What if you’d missed? Did you really think everyone would believe it was an accident?”
“I don’t miss,” he said coldly, tamping down his fury.
“I don’t care how good you think you are. Everyone misses.”
“I don’t.”
Gwen gave him the same look she’d given the dead rattlesnakes. “That’s Bert’s gun.”
“Yes.”
“You’re wearing it.”
“So?”
“This isn’t the Old West. Why do you need a gun?”
“I was headed out to check the cattle,” he explained with exaggerated patience. “If a cow’s in trouble and can’t be helped, it’s better to put her out of her misery than make her die a painful, lingering death. Why do you think Bert had the gun?”
She gave him a long look from under her lashes. “Why don’t you miss?”
“I’ve practiced.”
“Why? So you’d be as good as your gangster relative?”
He gave her a patronizing smile. “So I’d be ready to rescue a beautiful woman in distress.” Her eyes narrowed. She didn’t like that answer. Even the compliment didn’t appease her. She didn’t like being rescued. Too bad. He’d already done it. The sure knowledge hit him in the stomach with the impact of an iron fist. Hell, he had done it. He’d rescued her. It was over then. He was done. He’d be leaving. The pain surprised him. It wasn’t as if he’d miss her. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t even remember her.
He hadn’t slept with her. He never would. That’s all. He had no other regrets about leaving her.
“What’s wrong?” Gwen asked.
“Nothing. Why?”
“You had an odd look on your face.”
She’d probably slap his face if he told her his thoughts. He raised an eyebrow the narrowest bit. “How do you expect a man to look when you accuse him of trying to murder you?” Before she could answer the question, he pivoted on his heel and headed for the corral. “I’ll be leaving soon.”
“Why?”
The unexpected question caught him at the corral. He turned. She’d followed him. “You’ve been firing me since the day I arrived.”
“You never paid any attention before. Why now?” She stepped closer. “Because I accused you of trying to kill me?”
He had to laugh. “Honey, a hundred years ago, if you were a man, your mouth would have gotten you killed ten times a day.” His laughter died away. “As a woman, your mouth would have gotten you ten proposals a day.” He slouched against the corral and stuck his hands in his back pockets to keep from touching her. He took a deep breath, inhaling her scent. Like flowers with a little spice added.
She imitated him, jamming her hands into her back pockets. “Do you think if I’d lived a hundred years ago, I could have kept Jakob off the hooting trail?” She drew in the dirt with the toe of her sandal.
Her thoughts skipped around quicker than water on a hot skillet. “Owl-hoot trail. You’d have made it tough on Jakob to do what he had to do,” he conceded. Damned tough, in fact. He eyed her curiously. “Would you have made him chose between you and doing what he felt was the honorable thing?”
“Honorable.”
She couldn’t have put more scorn into her answer if she’d spit in the dirt. He had an urge to laugh. An urge quickly replaced with an even bigger urge to kiss her scornful mouth. “You don’t believe in honor?”
“What’s honorable about running away?”
“He wasn’t running away.”
“Like you’d know.”
“I’d know.”
“How would you know?” Without warning Gwen stepped up to him and grabbed the front of his shirt, clutching it in her hands. “You don’t know anything about him, remember? You’d never heard of him until I showed you the newspaper article.” Tightening her fists around his shirt, she tried to shake him. “Or don’t you remember that, either? You dirty, lousy, con man.”
He caught her hands to save his shirt. “Let go of me.”
“What if I don’t? Are you going to shoot me?”
She’d tempt a saint. He was no saint. Wrapping his hands around her head, he pulled her to him and roughly covered her mouth with his, swallowing her protest. She went perfectly still, not fighting him, not responding to his kiss. For about five seconds. Then with a small sound, she threw her arms around him and practically climbed into his body, her mouth working furiously to return his kiss. Shock, then exultation, exploded in him. The same fierce sense of possession had surged through him the first time he’d sat on a hill overlooking his range, his cattle. He’d felt very king-of-the-hill then. And now. His shimmering desire for her boiled over. And merged with the satisfactory knowledge that she was his. He covered her bottom with his hands, kneading the womanly curves, feeling the heat through her jeans. When she squirmed even closer, he deepened their kiss. He’d never get enough of her.
Gwen tore away her mouth and buried her face in his chest. “I have to breathe,” she muttered against his shirt.
Jake massaged her bottom with light, sure strokes. The prize was his. He could wait. Give her some time. She’d come to him when she was ready. He went very still. Time was what he didn’t have. Damn Michaels. He couldn’t take Jake away now.
If only Jake knew how it worked. Would he ride off on Granada and only the horse would return? Did he go to bed and the next morning the bed was empty? If Gwen stayed glued to Jake’s side, would that prevent Michaels from taking him? He should have asked. He had a feeling the answer had never mattered before. Not that it mattered now. Except in the most basic of ways.
He’d never been one to hide the truth behind a glossy lie. The truth was he wanted Gwen. Period. There was nothing else. Nada. Women liked to pretty things up with sentimental language. They spouted drivel about love instead of admitting they wanted sex. They went on and on about love and caring and trust. Words. All words. Words they used to get what they wanted. And when they didn’t want you anymore, those words were revealed for the nothing they meant.
Betrayal was the only word women should use. Betrayal is what they did best. Ma and Marian had tricked him into believing they loved him. He knew better now. And wasn’t so easily tricked. He’d b
e long gone before Gwen got around to betraying him. But first, he’d enjoy the pleasures of her bed. Ruthlessly stamping out any vestiges of guilt, Jake told himself she’d find pleasure, too. He’d make sure of that.
A tiny shudder went through Gwen’s body. She quit melting against him and took two backward steps. He rested his elbows on the top of the corral and waited for her excuse. Women always excused their passion.
“I’m sure you already know this, but I’ll admit it anyway. I’m physically attracted to you. I like the way you kiss, and yes, I’ve come close to tearing off your clothes a couple of times, but I’m not going to.” She stared fixedly at the center of his chest. “Do you want to know why?”
“Hell, yes.” Should he rip her clothes off or take them off real slow, one piece at a time until she squirmed beneath him, begging him to make her his?
Her resolute gaze locked on his face. “Because it would be selfish and indulgent.”
“Go ahead and use me, honey.” He gave her a slow smile. “I don’t mind.”
She swallowed hard and looked away. “Of course you don’t. I’m not stupid. I know what you want.”
“Do you?” He hadn’t exactly kept it a secret.
“The ranch,” she said flatly. “But you can’t have it. You can’t seduce me into forgetting you’re here to steal it. This is my home now. Mine and Crissie’s. I’m going to stay here. Put down roots. I don’t care how Bert’s family got this ranch. It’s mine now and it’s going to stay mine. I’m not inviting you into my bedroom and giving you an opportunity to search for some stupid paper which you hope will prove you own this ranch.”
She was like a dog with a bone, refusing to let go of her damned stupid idea. “I’m not here to steal your ranch,” he said through clenched teeth. His denial merited a burning glare. His body tightened. Damn, he wanted to kiss her again.
“I may not know much about ranching, but I’m not a total imbecile. You show up out of nowhere. You pretend you know nothing about Jakob Stoner when it’s obvious you know everything about him. You claim you came to work for me because you needed a job. And it just so happens you’re the one person who could contest my ownership of the ranch. That’s a little too much coincidence for me to swallow.”
“The one person? What about Gordon?” How he longed to turn her soft and clinging again.
“Gordon doesn’t have a prayer of overturning Bert’s will. He’s nothing more than a big nuisance.”
Jake quit thinking about undressing Gwen and focused on her words. And immediately understood Michaels’s plan with complete and total comprehension. He knew why Gwen needed him, and it had nothing to do with rattlesnakes. He was here to give Gwen her wish. A ranch. Her white picket fence. Roots for Crissie. She’d said it. Only one person could give her uncontested ownership of the ranch. One person. Jakob Stoner. The only question was, how was he supposed to do it?
“Marry her.”
The command came with such astonishing clarity, Jake looked around to see who’d spoken. They were alone except for Granada, who, sensing the tension in the air, stood in the corral eyeing them with a mixture of curiosity and alarm. A peach-colored butterfly lit on the water trough, then flitted over to a nodding sunflower.
“Well,” Gwen demanded, drawing his attention back to her, “are you going to admit the truth or not?”
Jake gave her a lazy smile, and banked the fires of his desire. When the time came, those green eyes glaring at him would rekindle the flames quickly enough. Flames. Hell, she’d ignite a damned prairie fire. He’d have to remember to thank Michaels when he saw him. Throwing a little bonus in for Jake on his last trip. He let his gaze move leisurely, possessively over Gwen. Those curves, those eyes, that mouth promised more than a little bonus. He itched to indulge himself with a little taste of heaven, but he’d wait. She’d be worth waiting for.
“I asked you a question. I’m waiting for an answer.”
He loved the way her cheeks flushed pink. She’d guessed what he was thinking. Guessed and didn’t mind, no matter how much she pretended otherwise. Her body practically twanged like a taut rope. He’d mastered roping years ago. Gwen wouldn’t be getting much sleep on her wedding night. Uncoiling his spine, Jake braced his shoulders and took off his hat. He’d do this right. “Miss Ashton,” he said evenly, “may I have the honor of your hand in marriage?”
“You’re what?”
Gwen hoped Prudence’s eyes didn’t pop out of her head. “Jake and I are getting married this morning.” She executed a small pirouette. “How do you like my dress? It was Sara Winthrop’s dress when she married Bert. Doris and I found it in the attic.”
“May I see you alone for a moment, Gwen? You’ll excuse us, won’t you, Mr. Stoner?”
“Why sure, Ma’am,” Jake drawled.
“No.” Gwen put her hand on Jake’s arm as he started to leave. “There’s no point wasting anyone’s time. You can’t talk me out of it, Prudence. My mind is made up. Jake and I are getting married. As soon as we leave here, we’re going over to pick up a marriage license and find a judge.” She and Jake took chairs across from Prudence’s desk.
“If you don’t want me to talk you out of this insanity,” Prudence said in a chilly voice, “I don’t know why you’re here.” Her eyes narrowed. “If you came to ask me to be a witness, forget it. I don’t push my clients in front of speeding trains.”
An apt comparison, Gwen thought wryly. Only she wasn’t in front of the train, she was on it. What’s more, she didn’t know if she wanted off. “Tom and Doris are standing up with us. They’re out in the waiting room with Crissie.” Gwen hesitated. “I’d like you to come, but if you don’t feel you can, I understand.”
“Well, I don’t understand,” Prudence said. “What’s the rush? What about your parents? What about Crissie’s other grandparents?”
“I phoned them all last night,” Gwen said. “You know my folks live in Europe. They sent me their best.” Albeit reluctantly. Prudence couldn’t say anything her parents hadn’t already said. “As for Monica’s folks, Ruth and Monk couldn’t change their plans.” Gwen smiled wryly at the memory of the conversation. “They’re going to chant around some stone circle or something today. Ruth asked our birthdays and said somebody’s in something and somebody’s moon is in retrograde or whatever, and Monk dealt the tarot cards. All signs are auspicious and the karma is good or some such. They heartily approve.”
“What a bunch of rot. They figure if you’re married, there’s no chance of you dumping Crissie on them.”
“There was never any chance of that,” Gwen said firmly. “Crissie is my child now, and she’ll always come first with me.”
Crissie was why she’d agreed to Jake’s astounding proposal. She’d rejected him at first. Hadn’t even believed he was serious. It had taken him two days to convince her of the practicality of his idea. She’d always been the practical one in her family.
There were sound and prudent reasons for marrying Jake. To keep the ranch. To preserve her dream. To carry out Bert’s wishes. And most of all, to keep the kind of life she wanted for Crissie. That’s what she told herself in daylight.
At night, in bed, she asked herself if she would have agreed to Jake’s proposal if he’d been five feet tall, bald, toothless and seventy years old. And ignored the answer. And tried to ignore the excitement licking at her veins when she thought of marriage to Jake.
Theirs would be a practical marriage. She was marrying Jake to secure her title to the ranch. Sleeping with him had never come up. She frowned. Why hadn’t it come up?
“I don’t blame you for worrying, Miss Owen,” Jake was saying, “but Gwen is doing the right thing.”
“She’s marrying you, so that’s obviously not true,” Prudence snapped. Swiveling in her office chair, she faced Gwen. “Think about this, Gwen. He shows up out of nowhere, he might have a claim on your ranch, and you’re going to marry him? Aren’t you just a little worried about being murdered in your bed? It’d be a
n easier way to get the ranch than fighting you in court.”
“That’s why we’re here,” Jake said calmly. “We need you to draw up some papers for me to sign before we get married.”
“What kind of papers?”
“I want to make out a will leaving everything I own to Gwen.”
“Let me guess. Gwen does the same for you?”
“No.”
If Jake objected to Prudence’s offensive questions, he hid it well. He had incredible self-control. Gwen replayed in her mind the kiss by the corral. Maybe sometimes that control slipped a little. She wondered what kind of self-control he exercised in bed.
“I don’t get it,” Prudence said slowly.
“I don’t care who Gwen leaves her belongings to,” Jake said, “as long as it says in the will I have no claim to anything she owns now or at any time during our marriage.”
“It’s simple,” Gwen added. “Jake isn’t marrying me for the ranch. I’m marrying him for the ranch. He’s relinquishing any and all claim on land which may or may not have belonged at any time to his family.”
“We want another agreement, too,” Jake said. “One that says I’m bringing nothing to this marriage, and if we dissolve the bonds of matrimony, I take away nothing. Word it in whatever lawyer talk you want, just make sure it’s watertight. I don’t want anyone bothering Gwen later.”
“Later?” Prudence asked.
“If anything should happen to me,” Jake said.
“It’ll take a while, but I should have everything ready for you to sign after your wedding. Make sure you return and sign the papers, Gwen, before you head back to the ranch. I assume there’s to be no honeymoon.”
Gwen felt the heat stain her cheeks. “Maybe later,” she said vaguely. Why, oh why, hadn’t she discussed this part with Jake? Not that she was against it. But it would be nice to know his feelings about it. She thought about his kisses and blushed redder. Cautiously she glanced at Jake, hoping he hadn’t noticed. He was watching her. Something flashed across the back of his eyes. Gwen forgot to breathe. Simmering, raw, basic desire. Her entire body heated up, then Jake gave her a rueful smile. What did that mean? Whatever she thought she’d seen had disappeared. She barely heard his answer to Prudence.
