Her heart began to pound. In the strange way a tiny thing could spark giant emotions, she realized that they were both suddenly too conscious of the snippets of fabric in her hand. When she’d disrobed before, there had been no dancing nerve endings, no pulses throbbing in all the wrong places. She’d been chilled to the bone, he’d been concerned about hypothermia, and all she’d wanted to do was get warm. Now she was comfortable, the cave was a cozy hideaway where they would be together all night... and those dangerous feelings of arousal were thickening the air, wrapping them both in a snug little web of “maybes” and “what-ifs.”
Something moved across Ross’s eyes—a flash of desire that took Maggie’s breath. Then, abruptly, he stood again and walked the ten or twelve feet to the cave’s entrance to look out at the weather. He cleared his throat. “You might feel more comfortable if you put those back on. Just let me know when it’s safe for me to turn around.”
They’d both feel more comfortable if she put them back on, Maggie thought. But safe? When night fell and they were forced to recline and get some rest, possibly huddle together for warmth if he couldn’t find more wood... clothes or no clothes, she knew what could happen. Quickly, Maggie pulled on her underwear and wrapped herself in the blanket again. “Okay,” she said. “You can turn around now.”
But when Ross turned and met her eyes, Maggie saw that nothing had changed. His gaze was troubled. Striding to the wall where his saddle lay, he scooped up his raincoat, laid his Stetson on the saddle, and shrugged into his rain gear. “I’d better see about that wood.”
“Now? Shouldn’t you wait until the rain lets up a little?”
“It could go on like this for hours,” he answered gruffly, and pulled up his slicker hood. “If I wait too long, any wood I find will be soaked clear through.” He started into the unrelenting downpour, then glanced back at Maggie. “We passed some brush on the way up. I won’t be long.”
He was in such a hurry to get out that Maggie wasn’t even sure whether he heard her murmur “okay.”
Fifteen minutes later, keeping his head down against the pelting rain, Ross grabbed the pile of branches he’d gathered and headed back to the cave. He should take his hood off, he thought. Hell, he should strip to his birthday suit and take the cold shower he needed to get through this night. Except that if he got hit by lightning and they found his fried body out here, it would just give people more to talk about. Not that he hadn’t given them plenty to gossip about already. Small towns had long memories.
Hurrying his steps in the encroaching darkness, his thoughts returned to the fire in the cave—then to the blaze in his belly. He had to be losing his mind. He had never made a promise to a woman like the one he’d earlier made to Maggie. Not taking advantage of a beautiful, naked female was as foreign to him as...as hobnobbing with the clergy and going to church picnics. He scowled as he approached the cave’s entrance, and a staggering thought occurred to him. Good God, he was turning into his straight-arrow brother.
Ross walked to the fire and dropped the bundle of wood, then shed his dripping raincoat and tossed it aside.
And the instant he looked at her, that airy sensation he’d been fighting for the past two hours rolled through his gut again.
In his absence, she’d freed her hair from the braid she’d worn to work; now she was combing her fingers through silky black strands, drying them by the fire. His blanket was wrapped around her like a bath towel and tucked in at the front, and her bare feet rested on the trailing material. White bra straps shone against her lightly tanned skin and smooth shoulders
Swallowing, Ross hunkered down across the fire from her, opened his pocketknife, and concentrated on stripping the bark from the thick branches he’d found...while the crotch of his damp jeans got snugger and snugger.
“I was thinking we should make some plans,” Maggie said quietly.
Ross kept stripping and peeling, relieved to find dry wood beneath the bark. “What kind of plans?”
“We need to think about our sleeping arrangements.”
“Well,” he said, instantly picturing a more satisfying scenario than the one he was about to suggest. “Buck’s blanket should be dry soon. It won’t cushion you much, but it’s better than lying on the cold floor. And your clothes are probably dry enough to put on now. You can use the saddle for a pillow, and you’ve already got a blanket—” he looked up from his task and, with an effort, forced a smile “—All the comforts of home.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“You...you didn’t mention where you’d be spending the night.”
“I’ll stretch out beside the fire.”
“On the ground? Without a blanket?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time. Though, now that I think about it, I don’t remember much about those other nights.”
“Too...inebriated?” she asked.
“Unfortunately, yes.”
Maggie walked around the stone ring to his side of the fire, holding the blanket to her breasts. Her hair fell soft and touchable over her shoulders, her cheeks faintly flushed from the fire. Ross couldn’t breathe.
He watched her test the saddle blanket’s dryness, then take it from their makeshift clothesline and spread the coarse rectangle of fabric out in front of his saddle. Then she returned, gathered her socks and uniform, and stepped a few feet behind him.
She never announced her intention—never told him not to look.
Ross’s blood pumped hard as he pictured her in her pretty lingerie, heard the soft rustle of cotton as she slipped on her shirt and slacks. He didn’t move a muscle—at least none of the muscles he could control.
Okay, this is good, he told himself. She’d be dressed, he’d be dressed, they’d spend the night together, and there wouldn’t be any heavy breathing or morning-after guilt. Tomorrow, he’d take her back to the Lazy J, untouched, and apply for the Medal of Honor.
Maggie stepped out from behind him, fully dressed now, speaking in a sensible tone as she folded the blanket. “I think if we can keep the fire going, we won’t need to cover up with this. We can put it on top of the saddle blanket to help cushion our backs.”
“Our backs?”
“Yes.”
“Not a good idea.”
“It’s better than yours.”
Laying his knife down, Ross tossed aside the sturdy branch he’d been stripping. “We’re alone up here.”
“I’m aware of that. But you’re an honorable man, and—”
He expelled a dry laugh. “You think I’m honorable?” She wasn’t much of a mind reader, that was for sure. “Believe me, if you did one of those man-on-the-street interviews the newspapers are so nuts about, you wouldn’t find many people who shared your opinion.”
“I’m not interested in what anyone else thinks.”
“Not Farrell? Not your uncle and aunt?”
“No. My aunt likes you, and my uncle would if he could get past what happened three years ago. As for Farrell—” she paused “—you were right about him. When the time comes, Cy will find some excuse not to give me that deputyship, no matter what I think or do.”
Ross pushed to his feet and walked to her, his boots soft on the floor of the cave. Maggie held her breath as he took a lock of her hair and rolled it between his fingers. His somber gaze held hers. “Don’t trust me too much, Maggie,” he warned softly. “I’ll only disappoint you.”
Chills raced up her arms as she looked into his rugged face. His eyes were so dark, his deep-blue irises nearly swallowed up as his pupils drank her in. Firelight flickered over his lean features, accenting his high cheekbones, his firm, strong jaw... his perfect mouth.
Moistening her lips, she took a step back, and Ross released her hair. “Maybe we should try to get some sleep so we can get an early start in the morning,” she said nervously. “Moe and Lila must be worried sick.”
“When she told me where you’d gone this afternoon, I promised her that I’d
find you.”
“She’ll still worry. I’d really like to leave at first light.”
“Sure. If the storm quits and we can travel safely.”
Maggie nodded. With the sensual storm inside, she’d forgotten about the very real downpour beyond their stone walls. Lightning still flashed and pulsed in the night sky. Thunder still rumbled in the distance.
Ross moved toward his saddle. “Let’s move your bedroll a little closer to the fire. The rocks will stay warm for a while after the fire bums down.”
“We don’t have enough wood?”
His voice softened in apology. “Not for the whole night. But I’ll keep-the flashlight handy in case we need it. Use the blanket to cover yourself.”
“But if it’s going to get that cold in here, we should share the blanket.”
“We’ll share the saddle,” he said firmly. “I’ll use one side for a pillow and you can use the other.”
Maggie finally agreed. At least he’d have some comfort tonight. And with his feet pointed in one direction and hers in another, they could keep safely away from each other.
Several hours later, when the fire dwindled to hot coals, Maggie awakened to the chill temperature and her stiff muscles. She was astounded that she’d slept at all after lying there for what seemed forever, listening to the sound of the fire cracking and spitting... listening to the erratic beat of her own heart.
Cautiously, she sat up, then slowly leaned close to look at Ross. She jerked back in surprise when he said, “Are you all right?”
“No,” she said after a moment. “I’m cold. Aren’t you?”
“I’m okay.”
Another moment ticked by. “Ross?”
“What?”
“Can I come over there with you?”
He didn’t speak for a while. Then she heard his ragged sigh, and he said, “Stay there. I’ll come to you.”
Maggie scooted to the right of the saddle blanket to make room for him. Then, as if their movements had been previously choreographed, Ross stretched out on his back, pillowed his head on his saddle...and opened his arms. Maggie filled them. She positioned herself stiffly on her left side, shivering as he put his right arm around her and pulled the Indian blanket over the two of them. His jeans were still cold and damp.
“Okay now?”
Hearing the underlying strain in his voice, she wanted to say yes. But that wouldn’t have been true. “No.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I...I don’t know what to do with my right arm.”
Ross grazed her thigh as he felt for her hand beneath the blanket, then placed it on his warm chest and held it there. Maggie drew a careful breath. She was now curved against him, her breasts pressing into his side. She swallowed, trying to blot out his male smell, his disturbing nearness. “I don’t hear the rain anymore.”
“I know. It stopped about an hour ago. The sky’s clear.”
“It is?” she asked breathlessly.
“Yeah. We’ve even got a moon out there now. I took Buck outside.”
Moment by moment, senses were rekindling, needs reawakening. Maggie was suddenly too conscious of his rigid form, too aware of his warm breath fanning her bangs and his heartbeat pounding beneath his chambray shirt. Ross’s cautious respirations were now as shallow and deliberate as were hers.
“Ross?” Maggie whispered.
“Yeah?” he whispered back.
She couldn’t remember what she wanted to ask. The simple act of turning her face up to speak to him had brought their mouths too close. Breaths mingled for just a heartbeat, then suddenly there didn’t seem to be anything either of them could do to stop their parted lips from finding one another.
Ross’s fevered mouth covered hers, hot and wet and possessive, and like a flash fire, Maggie answered his fervor with an urgency of her own. She held him fast as they turned and shifted beneath the blanket—tried to make the melding of their bodies as complete as was the melding of their mouths.
Maggie’s heart swelled to near bursting. This was what she’d wanted, what she’d longed for, almost from the moment her young arms had held him thirteen years ago. To touch him, to taste him, to feel what it was to be a woman in Ross Dalton’s arms. Back then, she’d been too naive and inexperienced to answer his needs. Now her needs were as great as his, but with an overpowering and undeniable feeling of love joining the desire in her blood.
Because, heaven help her, she did love him—whether loving him was wise or not.
They strained closer, their blanket billowing as hands moved in ever-widening circles to explore each other’s bodies. Soon they were both drifting on a sea of sensation that pleaded for fulfillment.
Maggie broke from the kiss, her whispered voice so thready that she barely recognized it as her own. “Ross, take off your jeans—they’re still wet.”
Groaning, he buried his face in her hair. “I can’t, Maggie. This sainthood thing is just too new to me.”
“Then don’t be a saint.”
He stilled. He fought for breath. “Are you sure?” he rasped. “I’m nobody’s Prince Charming. I can’t make you any promises.”
“I’m not asking for any.”
A second later, they were kissing mindlessly again, saying goodbye to the last shreds of control as shaky fingers fumbled with buttons and zippers, cast aside denim and lace...until there were no more barriers to their lovemaking. Ross yanked his wallet out of his jeans and fumbled inside for their protection.
Maggie lay back for a moment, then reached for him. But with a whispered, “No, the floor’s too hard, I’ll hurt you,” Ross pulled her astride him. Closing her eyes, Maggie drew a shaky breath as they joined in the darkness. Then she slid her arms around his neck and pressed her body close—while they kissed and tongued, while they immersed themselves in the pleasures of touching and being touched.
She was gentle slopes and swells; he was hard muscle and sinews. Maggie gloried in the feel of his callused hands on her breasts, sucked in a trembling breath when he pushed them high and kissed the swells he’d created. She let her fingers examine his tense shoulders and strong back—urged his face up to rain frantic kisses over his throat. She’d waited so long for this. Waited so long... She began to move against him.
Ross tried to hold off—tried to concentrate on the last bright embers snapping in the fire ring and on their dim shadows on the ceiling of the cave. But her body was too sweet, her sighs too needy. The fire in him became a full-blown blaze. Taking her face in both of his hands, covering her eager mouth with his own, Ross finally gave up trying... and let Maggie carry them both to Eden.
When she was lying against him again and their breathing had finally slowed to a tolerable level, Maggie released a contented sigh. Her bones still felt liquid, her muscles, nonexistent. Her heart, full.
“Well,” she laughed softly, “I’m finally warm.”
Ross’s head was pillowed against the saddle again, with Maggie’s hair spilling over his right shoulder. His deep, low voice was as mellow as was hers. “That’s good, because if you were still cold, the best I could do right now would be to pull the blanket higher around us.”
After several more minutes of touching and kissing, Maggie eased away, a little of her joy fading. Something she’d thought about only fleetingly before had again occurred to her:
“You were prepared for our being together tonight. Did you... Did you have that in the back of your mind when you came for me?”
Ross’s hand stilled on her hip. “Maggie, I didn’t plan for this to happen. In fact, I honestly tried to stay away from you. The reason I had protection with me was—” He hesitated.
“Never mind,” Maggie murmured, feeling her heart sink as her mind filled in the rest of his statement. “It’s not important.”
Ross rolled onto his side, straining to see her in the near darkness. “Yes, it is important. Maggie, the night of the church roofing, I was so churned up, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I—” He s
topped, drew a breath, then continued. “I just needed to get you out of my system any way I could. I went to Dusty’s.”
Tears stung her eyes. “You know, I really don’t need to hear this right now.”
“Yes, you do. I found a woman. She was more than willing, but I couldn’t go through with it. Because I still wanted you.” Smoothing her hair, Ross eased down to kiss her softly and repeated in a whisper, “Maggie, I only wanted you.”
Chapter 10
Later, as they sat snuggled in the saddle that they’d moved just outside the cave’s broad entry, Maggie’s heart was still rejoicing. He’d had the opportunity to sleep with someone else, and he’d said no because he’d wanted her. That had to mean something, didn’t it?
“Tired?” Ross murmured as she curled on his lap. With his back resting against the exterior stone wall and their blanket tucked high around them, they gazed out at the clear night sky.
“Just a little,” she admitted. “But let’s not go back inside just yet. It’s really pretty out here.” Slipping her hand inside his unbuttoned shirt, she stroked the soft hair on his chest. They’d dressed a few minutes ago, but she wasn’t willing to give up their easy intimacy yet. It had been too long in coming.
Overhead, a myriad of stars gleamed like diamonds in the vast, black sky, and a silver half-moon crowned the jagged mountain peaks opposite them. Below, in the rain-drenched valley, Maggie hoped no one had been hurt and that the loss of property hadn’t been too high. No one should be troubled on a night like this. Not when the air was clean and fresh with pine and sage, and her heart was brimming with love. “Do you know what time it is?”
Ross reached for the flashlight beside him, clicked it on to check his watch, then turned it off again and replaced it. “Almost three o’clock. Does it matter?”
“No, just curious.” But it did matter. Things would change when dawn arrived and they had to leave this special place to go back home. How much, she wasn’t sure. But there would be changes.
The winking green lights of a jet appeared above, and its reminder of civilization made Maggie draw closer in Ross’s arms. He hadn’t said that he loved her, hadn’t said anything to make her think this had been more than a night of mutual sharing. But he did care for her; she knew it as well as she knew her own name. “Hey,” she said quietly, “do you believe in UFOs?”
Accidental Hero Page 14
