The Passionate Lover

by Carole Mortimer

  'Help yourself,' he stood up. 'But for God's sake hurry up and get out of those wet clothes.'

  'You're as wet as I am!' The way his own denims clung to the lean length of his muscular legs hadn't escaped her notice.

  'And I intend doing something about it as soon as I have you sorted out.'

  'I'm not a child——'

  'Then quit acting like one!' he suddenly exploded with temper, running one lean hand through the thickness of his dark hair. 'Look, we're both tired, after being out in that how could we be anything else! I for one am too tired to argue with you about something as trivial as wet clothing. I'm also hungry, and when I'm hungry my temper gets frayed.'

  'You can say that again!' she snapped, wishing he would stop talking down to her all the time.

  'And, obviously, so does yours,' he added with pointed sarcasm.

  She had the grace to look abashed. 'I am a little damp,' she admitted softly. 'Hungry too.'

  'Then the sooner you undress the sooner we can eat,' Kyle wasn't prepared to give an inch. 'I'll make up the fire, you can change here,' he added impatiently as she made no effort to move while he stood there watching her, striding across the room to begin throwing logs on the fire, his back firmly turned towards her, rigid with displeasure.

  'Er—'

  'What is it now?' His impatience was coming to boiling point as he turned to glare at her.

  'The bathroom,' she explained reluctantly, embarrassed at having to ask him about something so personal.

  'There isn't one,' he derided.

  'I know that,' she flushed as he deliberately misunderstood her. God, she wasn't stupid enough to think there would actually be a bathroom out here! 'I don't want a bath, I'm asking where the—'

  'It's outside,' he finally took pity on her discomfort. 'At the side of the cabin. This place wasn't built to be used as a winter home,' he told her without apology for the fact that she had to go out in the cold once again. 'It's used for a few weeks in the spring and summer, there's no reason to have the bathroom inside. The food is kept in stock here just in case,' he added grimly.

  'In case some irresponsible woman goes and gets herself lost,' Shelby finished tersely, knowing that was what he had been implying.

  'Exactly,' he nodded abruptly. 'Take one of the lamps with you,' he instructed. 'I'd hate you to wander off and get lost again.'

  She bit back the angry retort that hovered on the edge of her lips, knowing that anything she had to say would only give him the opportunity to make yet another blistering condemnation of her. Besides, her very real need for the bathroom was more important at the moment, and after pulling on her hat, jacket and gloves she picked up the lamp to leave.

  'It's to the right,' Kyle suddenly told her, when he had appeared to be taking no notice of her.

  Shelby flashed him a grateful look, almost knocked back inside by the freezing cold wind that hit her as soon as she opened the door. The snow may have stopped falling for the moment but the wind howled on like a demented demon, driving her back as she fought her way to the small wooden building next to the cabin. By the time she had battled her way there and then back again she was beginning to wonder if it was worth it, feeling more exhausted than ever.

  Kyle was still sitting where she had left him when she turned from forcing the door closed, although he frowned as he looked up at her. 'Did you fall?' he rasped, standing up.

  The way he was moving towards her made her back up against the door, her eyes wide.

  'For God's sake,' he bit out harshly. 'I'm not so desperate that I would resort to forcing myself on a woman who, at the moment, resembles the attractions of a drowned rat!' His eyes glittered dangerously. 'You have a cut on your head, I merely wanted to take a look at it.'

  Shelby felt very young and very stupid at that moment. Which was. ridiculous! She was a very capable and successful businesswoman in London, her age and widowed status precluding her being young. But she would be the first to admit that she was out of her element in this situation, that although she disliked Kyle Whitney intensely, hated the way he constantly reminded her how stupid she had been to get lost in the way that she had, she was very grateful that he was here. But she knew he didn't feel the same way, that he didn't find her in the least attractive, as she didn't him, but her nerves were at such a taut pitch her recoil from him had been instinctive rather than intentional.

  'I'm sorry,' she muttered as he examined her right temple with surprisingly gentle fingers. 'And I think I probably got that when I fell into the cabin earlier.'

  His mouth twisted with derision where it was on a level with her eyes, but the scathing comment she had been expecting didn't come. Instead he concentrated on the cut. 'It doesn't look too bad, although the skin is broken. I'll clean it up for you once you have those wet clothes off.' He stepped back.

  She hadn't realised just how close he was standing until the warmth of his body was removed, feeling a sudden shiver through her body. 'Get undressed,' Kyle mistook the shiver for one of cold, turning back to the fire to give her what privacy he could in the close confines of the cabin.

  Her clothes clung to her damply as she peeled them off, making the task doubly difficult, the cold seeming to have seeped into her very bones, the blanket she wrapped around her sarong-wise saving her modesty but giving little real warmth. It was also rough and abrasive against her skin. And she didn't even have a brush for her hair. Reaction suddenly began to set in, and she sat down heavily on one of the beds as the tears cascaded down her cheeks.

  Everything had seemed so wonderful until today. She couldn't have been happier, was marrying the man she loved; Kenny had even decided they should live in London after the wedding, dispelling her worries about the salon. Now she had got lost in the snow, had been told Kenny no longer wanted to marry her, and was stranded in a primitive cabin with no clothes but what she had been wearing, with a man who made no attempt to hide the fact that he despised her.

  It was all too much, too sudden, and the tears fell unchecked, the sound of her sobbing finally causing Kyle to turn and look at her. 'What the—!' He was across the room in two strides, sitting down beside her on the bed, pulling her into his arms, her face buried against his chest. 'What is it, Shelby?' he asked gruffly. 'Tell me what's wrong?'

  The man must be an insensitive clod if he didn't know. 'Everything,' she sniffed miserably.

  'Hey, we'll be all right. We'll be out of here in a few days, and then—'

  'A few days!' she wailed, crying harder than ever.

  'I'll see that you don't starve.' He mocked the appetite the mountain air had given her the last weeks, having eaten as much as any man.

  'It isn't that,' she choked, seeming to have trouble stopping the tears now that they had started.

  'Then what is it?' His voice hardened. 'Are you afraid you won't be able to survive here without the—companionship, my cousin has been providing?'

  The insult was completely unwarranted, and her tears dried immediately. 'For your information, Mr Whitney,' she said icily, pushing him away from her, 'I have slept alone every night since my arrival here.'

  'Why?'

  'W—why?' she echoed in a puzzled voice. 'I don't know what you mean.'

  He shrugged. 'Kenny would have been more than willing to share your bed. And I'm sure that some of my men wouldn't be averse to it either,' he added mockingly.

  She flushed her indignation, her near hysteria of a few moments ago all but forgotten. 'You keep referring to them as "your" men in that arrogant way,' she snapped to hide how deeply he had wounded her with his assumption. She had heard all the old clichés about young widows since her husband had died, the most popular crudely being 'once you've had it you can't do without it', but she had only ever had one lover in her life, and that had been Gavin. She hadn't been in any hurry to replace him on the intimate side of her life, and not being a very sensual person herself she hadn't found that too difficult. Unlike some people, she didn't believe life, and happiness, r
evolved around the physical.

  Kyle raised dark brows at her criticism. 'Shouldn't I?'

  The argument was ridiculous, she could see that. They were stuck here, possibly for several days—she refused to think it could be any longer than that!—and to argue about such a trivial matter when their lives could ultimately be in jeopardy was fruitless. 'This is stupid.' She stood up with impatient movements, the blanket securely in place. 'We're alone out here, and somehow we have to survive, any unpleasantness between us is pointless.'

  For a moment he seemed to hesitate, then he too stood up. 'I'll put something on your forehead.'

  'It doesn't really hurt—'

  'No senseless arguments, remember?' he mocked, as he opened the full medicine cabinet kept in the kitchen area.

  She stood perfectly still while he administered to the cuts on her forehead, doing her best not to look up at him, although it wasn't easy in the circumstances. A faint aroma of male aftershave clung to his skin, and with this came the realisation that he already had more than just a five o'clock shadow. Obviously he was one of those men who needed to shave twice a day.

  'You'll have to grow a beard,' she said inconsequentially, blushing as he looked down at her with taunting grey eyes. And for someone who rarely blushed she was doing it a lot lately. Somehow this man had the power to make her feel incredibly young, gauche almost. It wasn't a pleasant sensation.

  'I guess I can stand that if you can,' he drawled.

  'What do you mean?' she frowned.

  He finished putting the adhesive tape in place. 'I've been told that a beard doesn't suit me.'

  She felt sure that it wasn't so much that it wouldn't suit him; it would just cover too much of that ruggedly handsome face, would make him look almost demonic. 'I can stand it,' she muttered, turning away. 'I'll get our dinner now.'

  She was aware of those watchful grey eyes on her as she worked, was unaware of how attractive she looked with her hair soft about her make-upless face, the blanket revealing more of the perfection of her body than she realised—or would have wanted had she known.

  Now that they had decided not to argue they seemed to have little to say to each other, the impromptu stew she had made from the tinned meat and dried vegetables eaten in silence.

  'You really can cook,' Kyle said appreciatively after downing two platefuls. 'We could do with you out here at branding time, Charlie is the worst cook I know.'

  She gave the ghost of a smile at his attempt at light conversation, exhaustion making her slow to react to what she knew was a standard joke at the Double K. Everyone made derogatory remarks about Charlie Peterson's cooking, but Shelby had a feeling it was done more out of affection for the old man than from any real truth. 'Your aunt told me she taught him herself,' she said as she cleared the table of their crockery, putting it in the soapy water she had boiled.

  Kyle grimaced. 'That statement should speak for itself.'

  Helen Whitney was one of the best cooks she had ever met; now she knew the jokes were only teasing. Kenny's mother ran the ranch-house with an iron will that matched that of her nephew, and Shelby had come to like her very much.

  'Let me do this,' Kyle gently moved her away from the sink, his expression searching. 'You look as if you're about all in. Get some sleep now, everything will seem different in the morning.'

  She certainly hoped so, because everything seemed very bleak right now! Maybe tomorrow she would have the strength and mental capacity to ask him exactly what he had meant about Kenny. Right now she just wanted to sleep.

  She did exactly that as soon as her head touched the pillow, heavily at first, and then the dreams began to intrude, dark frightening dreams of the snow falling in on her and burying her, bringing her to startled wakefulness. She looked about her dazedly for several minutes, despair washing over her as she realised where she was.

  One of the lamps still burnt low in the cabin, and glancing at the man who slept across the room from her Shelby knew it wasn't for Kyle's benefit. He lay on his back, the face that could often be harsh and derisive smoothed out to look incredibly handsome, although the darkness of the beard that was already forming gave him a rugged look. His quilt had fallen back almost to his waist, his deeply tanned chest covered with dark wiry hair. It was a long time since she had seen a man even partially naked, and it was even more disturbing that Kyle Whitney should now be that man.

  She turned away abruptly, feeling almost guilty for noticing the hard planes of his body, the skin a deep mahogany colour. She was in love with Kenny, and the attraction of his cynical cousin didn't matter to her!

  And yet her gaze was drawn again and again to him, sleep eluding her. It sounded as if it were snowing again outside, and her heart sank at this further obstacle to them getting away from here, a closed-in feeling enveloping her until she began to move about restlessly.

  'Can't you sleep?'

  She turned sharply at the sound of that soft rasp, blinking as she saw Kyle Whitney was now turned on his side as he leaned on his elbow looking across at her. She moistened her lips nervously. 'I'm sorry if I woke you,' her own voice came out in a whisper too.

  'You didn't,' he dismissed. 'Does your head ache?'

  'My head…?'

  'Where you fell and knocked it earlier,' he explained patiently.

  'Oh. No,' she shook her head. 'I—It feels fine.'

  'Then why aren't you asleep?'

  How could she tell him it was because the sight of his nakedness had disturbed her! God, she must be going insane, or snow-crazy! She disliked Kyle Whitney, and he despised her, so how could she possibly be physically disturbed by him?

  'Shelby?'

  She shivered as she turned to find narrowed grey eyes on her. 'I—It was the storm outside,' she invented.

  'Was it?' He clearly wasn't convinced.

  She gave him a startled look. Surely he hadn't been able to guess the intimacy of her thoughts a few minutes ago? 'I don't know what you mean?' she frowned.

  Kyle sat up completely, wrapping a blanket around his waist as he moved to throw more logs on the fire, his expression harsh as he stared down into the leaping flames.

  'Kyle?' she prompted at his prolonged silence.

  The eyes he turned on her were flinty with contempt. 'Are you finding it lonely already?' he rasped.

  All colour left her face as he once again verbally attacked her. 'I told you,' she was breathing erratically, 'I'm used to sleeping alone.'

  'But you aren't alone, are you,' he pointed out as he crossed the room towards her.

  She blinked as his meaning became crystal clear, realising how dangerous he could be in this frame of mind. 'We don't even like each other—'

  'Does that matter?' he scorned.

  'To me, yes!' she answered indignantly.

  'Why?' He sat on the edge of her bed, so near Shelby could feel his body warmth. 'I can assure you I'm much more experienced than Kenny is,' he added derisively.

  Shelby moistened suddenly dry lips. This was one way in which she had never thought of Kyle Whitney as being a threat, secure in the knowledge that he didn't like her. 'Are you sure you aren't the one who's lonely, Kyle?' she taunted to hide her fear. 'For Mrs Judd?' she added insultingly, the only occasions Kyle had left the ranch during the last two weeks having been on the evenings he visited the other woman.

  His face darkened. 'Sylvia happens to be the widow of my closest friend,' he told her coldly. 'I keep a protective eye on her, that's all.'

  'I'm sure you do!'

  'Chase would have done the same for me,' he ground out.

  'In the same way?' she derided. 'Then it must indeed have been a "close" friendship the two of you had!'

  She knew she had gone too far even as he reached for her, expecting to be shaken until her teeth rattled, instead finding herself pulled up against his hair-roughened chest, the quilt falling down so that her bared breasts were crushed against him, the nipples over-sensitive where she hadn't been touched so intimately in such a
long time.

  The colour flooded her cheeks as Kyle leant back to view her instantaneous reaction, his eyes darkening to black pools of desire. 'Kyle, please—'

  'You have beautiful breasts,' he murmured as if she hadn't protested, bending his head to suck one of the pert tips into his mouth, his dark lashes fanned out against his cheeks as he became intent on arousing her with the sharp nip of his teeth and the moist caresses of his tongue.

  Shelby's hands came up to push him away, but as the quick-fire excitement surged through her body her fingers curled into him in spasmodic pleasure. Always a sensitive part of her body, her nipples ached for the caress of that moist mouth, her breath catching in her throat as Kyle gave the other breast his full attention.

  'Like ivory velvet,' he muttered against her skin, trailing a path of warm kisses down to her navel as he lay her back on the bed, his tongue, tasting her, exciting her. 'But you're warm,' he said softly as he moved even lower. 'So very warm.' His hand moved slowly from her knee to her thighs, gently parting them. His mouth traced circles on her skin.

  It was madness, utter madness to let him continue, and yet this seemed to be a time out of time, almost a dream. And she didn't want to wake up, had never known such a wealth of sensual delight. Gavin had been a very gentle and considerate lover, he would never have dreamt of silencing her reluctance in such a blatantly physical way.

  Gavin. God, if not for herself she had to stop this for him, out of respect for his memory, and the warm and loving relationship they had always had. By acting like a wanton she was not only being unfaithful to that memory she was also convincing Kyle that he had been right about her all along, that any man would do to share her bed in an emergency.

  But even so it took some seconds for her to formulate enough strength of will to stop him, her body moving and reacting to his slightest command, opening to him as it had never done before, burning with a need to reach fulfilment.

  But Shelby couldn't let herself reach that fulfilment, no matter how much she needed or wanted it, her fingers rough in his hair as she pulled him up to her. 'I meant please stop,' she lied, her pride already in shreds. 'Please stop kissing me, Kyle.'