A Willing Wife

by Jackie Merritt

  Holding the blanket, she got up, felt her knees buckle and fell back to the chair. “I— I can’t seem to get my bearings,” she stammered.

  Dallas studied her pale face and wildly dilated pupils. He’d seen people in shock before, and that was what Maggie looked like—dazed and barely aware of what was going on around her.

  He gentled his voice. “Will you let me help you undress? You have to get warm and dry, Maggie.”

  Even through the numbness gripping her brain, Maggie felt embarrassment. “I— I’m sure I can manage…if I stay sitting down.”

  Dallas hesitated, then nodded. “All right, if you’re sure. I’ll use the wood shed and you change in here.” Plucking another blanket from the bed, he went through the door to the wood shed.

  Maggie picked at the buttons on her shirt. Her fingers seemed to be no more cooperative than her legs, and she worried that Dallas might come back with her half in and half out of the blanket. Impatiently she gave up on the buttons and tore her shirt open, strewing buttons right and left. Taking off her soaked boots was a terribly time-consuming chore, but finally she was down to her wet jeans and bra. Pulling the blanket over her shoulders, she managed to inch the drenched jeans down her legs. Her panties and bra felt like ice on her skin, and, throwing caution to the wind, she got rid of her underwear, too.

  Completely encased in the blanket, she began to warm up. It felt wonderful. The storm was still raging outside, but the interior of the little cabin was dry and cozy. She was just starting to take note of what it contained when Dallas called through the door, “Is it all right if I come in now?”

  “Yes,” she called back.

  Dallas walked in, and Maggie’s eyes widened. He had wrapped the blanket around his waist and secured it with his belt! His upper body was completely nude, and the unexpected sight of so much male brawn nearly undid Maggie. She quickly looked away and clutched her own blanket even more tightly around herself to make sure that no part of her was on display.

  “Are you feeling better now?” Dallas asked as he started building a fire in the iron stove.

  “Much better,” Maggie replied. She suddenly remembered Dallas asking her where Travis was, and her heart softened considerably. Not only had Dallas rescued her from God only knew what fate, but he’d been concerned that Travis might be out in that storm with her.

  She could no longer tell herself that Dallas Fortune was using her son to get to her; Dallas truly cared about the boy. It was an eye-opening moment for Maggie, even though it had disturbing aspects. Her son had a real friend in this man, and how could she deny Travis the emotional benefits of friendship with an adult male who had only been kind to the boy?

  The other side of that coin, of course, was how affected Travis would be over leaving that sort of relationship behind when they finally moved to Houston. Maggie’s hands clenched nervously under her blanket as she pictured herself explaining the facts of their lives to her five-year-old son. We have to leave the ranch, sweetheart. Mama has to work to support us.

  But I don’t want to leave Dallas, Mama. He’s my friend.

  She groaned silently and took a peek at Dallas, who had the fire going nicely and was now preparing a pot of coffee. It seemed she was in a frame of mind to torture herself, because she started thinking of that kiss in Dallas’s gazebo. To rid herself of that memory she tried to concentrate on his crude behavior the first time he’d come to the house. But that, too, was a form of self-torture, she soon realized, because Dallas had made it so plain that he wanted to make love to her. Did he still feel that way? They were so alone out here in this little cabin. If he had another pass in mind, wouldn’t this be the perfect opportunity? And since she had responded so heatedly to him in the gazebo—for a few moments, at least—would she react in the same impassioned way if he kissed her again?

  She swallowed hard and with a shake of her head drove the sexual cobwebs from her brain.

  “How did you happen to come along at exactly the right moment?” she asked quietly.

  Dallas looked at her and shrugged. “Fate, I guess.” Then he smiled at her. “Obviously you were not destined to be struck down by lightning today.”

  His mentioning fate made Maggie uneasy. If fate had conjured up a person to snatch her from death’s door today, why not her father or brother? Why not one of the dozens of ranch hands on the place? Why had fate sent Dallas Fortune?

  Dallas’s observation was not one with which Maggie could agree, but she didn’t say so. Instead she said, “Well, I thank you for saving my life. And I also thank you for asking about Travis.”

  Dallas placed the coffeepot on the stove to brew. “You said he’s with your mother?”

  “Yes, Mama had the afternoon off and she took Travis with her to see a friend.” Maggie glanced out a window and saw how fierce the storm still was. “I hope they’re all right.”

  “I’m sure they are. Rosita has weathered many storms of this velocity. She knows the drill.”

  The aroma of perking coffee filled the cabin. “That smells good,” Maggie commented.

  “Sure does,” Dallas agreed as he got two mugs from a cupboard.

  “Are all the line shacks so well-equipped?” She’d always known about the line shacks, but she’d never been in one before. “A person could actually live in this cabin.”

  “That’s the idea, although they’re really designed for roundup. And for emergency situations like today’s storm, of course,” he added. “I’m sure some of the other line shacks, too, are being used as cover until the storm passes, same as we’re doing.” Dallas’s gaze fell on Maggie’s pile of wet clothes. “I hung my things over a line in the wood shed. I’d better do the same with yours, or you’ll have to put them on again still soaked.” Dallas grinned. “Unless you don’t mind going home wrapped in a blanket, that is.”

  “I shudder to think of the raised eyebrows that would cause,” Maggie said dryly.

  “Yeah, if anyone saw us riding in wrapped in blankets, they might think you and I had been up to something.” Dallas calmly walked over to pick up her wet clothes, but then, when he was close enough to touch her, he sent her another grin. “Your face is red, Maggie.”

  “It is not!” she denied sharply, but she knew he was right. She could feel the heat of a full-blown blush even on her ears.

  Chuckling, Dallas walked away with her clothes and went into the wood shed.

  “Damn conceited man,” Maggie sputtered. With Dallas in the next room, she chanced exposure by moving her hands from under the blanket and finger-combing her wet hair back from her face. I must look a fright, she thought, and then asked herself why she would care how she looked.

  It was probably because Dallas looked utterly gorgeous in that stupid blanket. His wet hair looked appealingly sexy, while hers was undoubtedly hanging in stringy strips. It was totally unjust that getting drenched didn’t damage a man’s looks one iota. It completely destroyed a woman’s—certainly the makeup she’d put on that morning had to be gone.

  God, she was stark naked under this blanket! Naked and plain as dishwater with stringy hair and no makeup. Since there wasn’t a man alive who would find anything attractive about a woman in her condition, she should stop thinking silly thoughts about Dallas making another pass. Disgusted over her own wild imagination, Maggie heaved a sigh.

  When Dallas returned, she was staring out the window.

  “Is it slowing down any?” he asked.

  “What? Oh, the storm. No, it doesn’t appear to be. It shouldn’t last this long, should it?”

  “Never can tell,” he said. “The coffee’s done. Ready for a cup?”

  “Very ready.” The problem with that idea was that when he brought a mug of steaming coffee to her, she had to slip a hand from under the blanket and take it.

  Dallas laughed at how cautiously she maneuvered the blanket and herself to stay covered from her throat to her feet.

  His laughter irritated her. “I’m glad you find this whole thing s
o amusing,” she snapped, while taking the mug of coffee from his hand.

  “The whole thing isn’t amusing—but you are. What do you think I’m going to do, jump your bones if I catch a glimpse of bare skin? Aw, heck, now your face is red again.”

  “Are you deliberately trying to make me angry?”

  “Why would I do that? I’d much rather that you and I became good friends.” Dallas’s eyes darkened perceptibly as his amusement vanished. “In fact, I think you know that I’d like us to be a lot more than just friends.”

  For heaven’s sake, don’t blush again! “That is a subject I’d rather not talk about!” Maggie brought the mug to her lips, and realized that her hand wasn’t as steady as it should be. Dammit, he was getting to her with innuendo alone! Stay cool, stay calm, or at least act as though you are!

  “Hmm, good coffee,” she said in the most casual way possible.

  “Glad you like it, but be careful, it’s hot enough to melt the iciest resistance.”

  She couldn’t stop herself from flaring. “Are you saying that I’m a cold person?”

  “You are with me.”

  “What do you expect me to do—throw off this blanket and parade around naked?”

  A slow-burning grin formed on Dallas’s face. “That is the most incredible idea I’ve ever heard. Beats any fantasy I could think up.”

  “Yeah, I’d just bet,” Maggie scoffed. “Well, don’t hold your breath.” She suddenly felt something hot and burning on her thigh. She had inadvertently let the mug in her hand tip to spill some of the scalding hot coffee on the blanket! She panicked, yelped and jumped off the chair at the same moment. The blanket fell away and the mug slipped completely from her hand, crashing on the floor and splashing hot coffee on her feet.

  “Maggie!” Dallas shouted in dread, and set his own mug down to free his hands. He saw the tears in her eyes and took her by the shoulders. “Are you burned?”

  “My—my right thigh…and my feet,” she whispered tremulously. Her nudity was so humiliating that she couldn’t look him in the eye. How could she have been so careless with hot coffee?

  “I’m going to take a look,” Dallas said firmly. “And don’t be embarrassed, for God’s sake. If you’re burned badly, you need attention.” He got down on the floor and checked her feet. Pink blotches had appeared wherever the coffee had landed, but there were no blisters. Her feet might hurt a little, but they would be fine.

  “You said your right thigh?” he asked, and got on his knees, which put his face only inches from the triangle of dark hair at the base of her belly. His heart raced as blood rushed to his groin, and he almost forgot the reason he was on his knees in the first place, especially when he thought of what he’d really like to do at this particular moment.

  He gruffly cleared his throat and got his mind back on track. There was a pink blotch on her thigh, but again there was no blistering.

  He spoke hoarsely. “I think the burns are minor. You’re going to be just fine.”

  “They—they’re not hurting as much as they were,” Maggie volunteered in a voice that matched Dallas’s for huskiness. Standing naked before a man on his knees was a startlingly new experience, and it was turning her inside out. The pit of her stomach burned much hotter than the blotches on her feet and thigh, and the acute urgency she felt could not be construed as anything but what it was: sexual desire, so strong and powerful that she felt weak from it. Did she have the willpower to stop this before it really got started?

  “Good… I’m glad,” Dallas whispered, and put his hands on the back of her thighs and laid his head on that tormenting triangle of hair.

  Maggie sucked in a breath, but she didn’t back away from him or tell him to get up. Even though she knew exactly what this kind of intimacy led to, she stood there and basked in Dallas’s adoration of her body.

  Seven

  “Maggie, you’re so beautiful,” Dallas said raggedly.

  She didn’t dispute his flattery, because she felt beautiful. Forgotten were the thoughts she’d had only minutes ago about looking a fright. Her mind seemed to be encased in a lovely pink haze, and there wasn’t a single wish anywhere within her to break free of its delicious influence. In fact, not only did she feel beautiful, she felt more womanly, more female, than at any other time in her life. She suffered no questions about who or what was causing such a remarkable change in herself, because the answer was still on his knees, caressing her with his mouth and hands in a way she’d never before experienced.

  Dallas’s caresses were loving, she realized vaguely—not merely needful, but loving. It was as though he were holding and touching a priceless treasure instead of a flesh-and-blood woman. How strange.

  All thought stopped completely for Maggie when Dallas began kissing his way up her body. Then he was standing and seeking her mouth with his own. She parted her lips just before he kissed them, and she moaned softly when his tongue slipped into her mouth. Her hands crept up his chest to encircle his neck, and his went around her waist, bringing her so close to him that she could feel the rapid beating of his heart against her breasts.

  Between kisses that kept getting hotter, Dallas breathlessly whispered, “Oh, Maggie…Maggie.”

  And the only thing she could do in response was to whimper, “Dallas…Dallas.”

  When kisses were no longer enough, he picked her up and carried her to the bed. He laid her on it and followed her down, so that he was on top of her. Then he took her face between his hands and looked deeply into her eyes. For a long time that was all he did, simply look into her eyes, and she found herself probing the depths of his with heart-wrenching curiosity.

  He appeared on the verge of saying something. But then, in the next heartbeat, he kissed her again, and her curiosity about what he’d been thinking vanished in a maelstrom of powerful emotions. In a passionate state of utter surrender, she closed her eyes and rubbed his back and shoulders while he lavished kisses to her breasts. Again the pink haze enveloped her, and she was barely aware of Dallas getting rid of his belt and blanket.

  The sensation of his nude body covering hers nearly destroyed her ability to breathe, and she started taking in air in short gasps. Dallas, too, was breathing laboriously. Somewhere in the back of Maggie’s dazed brain was the knowledge that she had never before become so passionately involved with a man. Never had she wanted to make love so badly that every cell of her body cried out for fulfillment.

  She spread her legs without direction from Dallas, and she writhed restlessly beneath him, seeking what she was driven to have. With a sensual groan, he heeded her silent call and slid into her. At first they were both a little crazy, thrusting wildly, demandingly. But then they settled into a rhythm of movement that permitted eye contact.

  Putting most of his weight on his forearms, Dallas watched her eyes as he moved within her. “It’s perfect,” he whispered hoarsely. “You’re perfect.”

  She dampened her lips with the tip of her tongue and whispered, “So are you.”

  “We’re perfect together.”

  “Yes…yes,” she gasped.

  “I knew it would be like this for us the minute I saw you again.”

  She didn’t want to talk anymore. Conversation was diluting her mood. “Don’t talk,” she said unsteadily. “Not now.” Pulling down his head, she mated their mouths in a kiss that said it all. I want you… I have to have you…but please don’t talk.

  Dallas felt a discordant note, but ignored it and let desire overwhelm him. Breathing hard, he concentrated on the pleasure of making love for the first time in years. Maggie…Maggie. Her name was a litany in his mind. She was incredible, beautiful, sensuous, and he wanted to sing her praises. But later, he told himself. If she didn’t want to talk now, he could wait until she did.

  Maggie was in a fever of longing, and she wrapped her legs around his hips to draw him deeper inside her. The wildness began again, and went on until they each cried out with the force of a simultaneous release. They were bot
h sweating. Totally drained, Dallas collapsed upon her.

  With her eyes closed, Maggie slowly regained her senses. When she could think again, her first thought was that they had made love without protection.

  “Let me get up,” she said frantically.

  “What?” Dallas lifted his head and looked at her.

  “We didn’t use anything. I have to get up.”

  The facts of life were a cold intrusion on Dallas’s mellow mood, but he moved to the bed and said, “The privy is just beyond the wood shed.” He watched Maggie leap off the bed and grab the blanket he’d dropped on the floor, then added, “It’s still raining. You’re going to get wet again.”

  “So what?” she snapped, startling him. She ran for the door.

  Frowning, Dallas crawled beneath the sheet on the bed, then put his hands behind his head and stared uneasily at the ceiling. She’d sounded angry, and anger was the last thing he’d expected from Maggie in the aftermath of their truly spectacular lovemaking. This should be a time of shared thoughts and ideas, a time of soft kisses and maybe some laughter. Yes, he would love to laugh with Maggie. He would love to see her relaxed and happy, even a little giddy because they had found something rare and beautiful in each other.

  Outside in the privy, Maggie was tending to business with tears dripping down her cheeks. She’d reduced herself to another notch on a Fortune bedpost. What in heaven’s name had come over her? Pink haze, indeed. She was the worst kind of woman there was, an easy mark. Dallas was probably smug and laughing over how easy she’d been. Well, he’d gotten what he’d so crudely said he wanted from her—and right at the moment she didn’t know which of them she loathed more, him or herself.

  On the way back into the cabin, she grabbed her clothes from the line. They were no longer dripping rainwater, but neither were they dry. She didn’t care. She was going to get dressed and get out of this—this bordello disguised as a cabin! It would be a long walk home, but she’d make it. It was still raining, but the thunder and lightning had stopped, thank heaven.