Big Sky Country: Montana (The Americana Series Book 26)

by Janet Dailey

  "None at all," she assured the mocking gray eyes playing over her face.

  The faint glow of pale yellow lasted only a few short minutes more before the sun popped above the craggy peaks to the east. The mountain seemed to catch the light of the rising sun, reflecting the golden hues. By the time they reached the foothills, it was well up in the sky, flooding the forested, slopes with brilliant sunshine, piercing the foliage with golden streamers of light.

  The delicate scent of pines dominated the air as the four riders entered the forest. Riordan led the way through the moderately dense growth with Jill behind him, followed by Kerry and Todd bringing up the rear. The narrow, weaving route through the trees was traversed single file which made conversation almost impossible. Jill didn't mind. She savored the solitude of her own thoughts.

  The private glimpses of wildlife were many. A jay followed them for some distance through the trees as if inspecting the invaders of his domain. Squirrels hid behind trunks waiting for them to pass before resuming their endless search for food.

  At the edge of a small forest glade, Jill's horse stopped. She had been watching a squirrel peering warily around a trunk. Glancing forward, she saw that Riordan had reined in his horse and checked the packhorse's progress. Curious, she looked beyond him.

  In the sun-drenched glade, two deer stared motionless in their direction. Then, with a flick of a white tail, they bounded away, gracefully leaping through the tall rippling grass dotted with brilliant reds and yellows of wildflowers.

  Without a word or glance being exchanged with the others, Riordan nudged his bay horse into the open. Jill followed keeping single file and not attempting to draw level with him. For a moment, she ignored the scenery and concentrated on the wide shoulders ahead of her.

  Riordan sat with casual ease, a part of the horse and environment, the untamed look about him more pronounced than before. The warmth of the sun had made itself felt and his suede jacket was swinging open. A wild tremor shook her senses as she caught a glimpse of his rugged profile. With the golden sun striking sparks off the chiseled features of his strong jaw and the faintly ruthless line of his mouth, his virile attraction pulled her like a powerful magnet.

  Riordan was in his element in this wilderness country, Jill told herself, trying to shake away her purely physical reaction. Her blue eyes swung determinedly away from him to focus again on the landscape they rode through. But more and more often as the morning wore on, her gaze was drawn to the man riding in the lead.

  Farther on, the trees began to thin out, giving way to a grassy plateau studded with rocks and colored with mountain wildflowers. It seemed as if their steady climb should have gained them great height, but craggy mountain peaks towered all around them. This was only an insignificant hill dwarfed by its bigger brothers, connected by a dipping ridge to their slopes.

  Yet the crest of the hill beckoned Jill. Behind her, the valley floor was a twisting corridor through the fortress walls of the mountains. The vista at the top of the hill promised a look at it and the untouched wilderness beyond. She urged her horse even with Riordan, meeting his sideways glance of inquiry, a black brow lifting slightly.

  "Are we riding to the top of the hill?" she asked.

  The breathlessness in her question was merely from the exhilaration of the ride. It had nothing to do with the quicksilver glitter in his considering look, she told herself.

  "We can." He reined in his horse and turned sideways in the saddle toward the slower couple following them. "We're going to the top, Todd."

  Todd waved them on. "We'll meet you at the ridgeback."

  That wasn't what Jill had in mind. She had intended that the four of them share the view, but she could hardly protest now. Riordan took a wrap on the packhorse's lead rope. Clicking to it, he touched a spur to his bay's flank, and the horse's striding walk obediently extended into a reaching trot. Jill followed.

  The crest of the hill was farther and steeper than she had guessed. A lone pine growing out of an outcropping of jagged rock at the top seemed to be the point to which Riordan was taking her. The last few yards she gave her horse his head to pick his way over the stony ground, always climbing.

  "I didn't realize it was so far," she said when her horse stopped beside Riordan's at the top. Her gaze was already sweeping the breathtaking panorama. "But it was worth it."

  The ranch bundings far below were almost totally hidden by the windbreak of pines. The verdant meadow stretched tike a curling green ribbon on the valley floor. The unexplored horizon on the opposite side of the hill was dominated by snow-capped peaks and virgin valleys, wild and unscarred by man, stunning in their casual grandeur.

  Riordan dismounted, looping the rope to the packhorse around his saddle horn. "We'll take a breather here and give the horses a rest."

  Her dismount was considerably less graceful than his, stiff muscles unaccustomed to extended periods of riding making their protest felt. All of that was forgotten as she spied a dark shape in the crystal blue sky.

  "Riordan, look!" she whispered excitedly. He was loosening the cinch on his saddle and paused to follow her pointing finger. "Is it an eagle or a hawk?"

  "An eagle." His sharp gaze remained fixed on the wide span of wings. Unconsciously Jill moved closer, her blood racing with excitement. "I'd say it's a bald eagle. This is one of the few regions you can still find them where they haven't been driven out by civilization."

  She was unable to take her eyes from the eagle soaring high on the wind currents above the mountains. "I don't know how anyone can claim to be rich if they haven't seen an eagle flying wild and free."

  "That's a profound statement."

  Something in his voice drew her gaze. Behind the lazily piercing quality of his eyes, she suspected she saw a glint of admiration. The sight of the eagle had made her spirits buoyantly light. It was like a heady wine, making her feel decidedly reckless.

  "You mean coming from me," she returned boldly, "you don't expect such statements."

  Riordan moved lazily around to her horse. A stirrup was laid over the saddle while he loosened the cinch. A breeze lifted the tousled wings of her hair, spinning wisps of burnished gold in the sunlight.

  "Maneuvering again, Jill?" he taunted softly.

  Unbuttoning her medium-weight jacket of lined blue corduroy, she pushed it back so the refreshing breeze could reach her skin.

  "I don't know what you mean," she shrugged carelessly.

  "You knew when you suggested we come to the top of this hill that Kerry wouldn't willingly make any side trails on her horse." Patting the horse's neck, he ducked beneath its head to stand beside Jill. "Weren't you arranging for her to be alone with Todd?"

  "If you say so." With a contented sigh, she tilted her face to the sun, letting its warm rays spill over her, with her hands on her hips holding the jacket open. "I'm in much too good a mood to argue with you, Riordan."

  "I wasn't arguing," he replied smoothly.

  "Weren't you?" Amusement dimpled her cheeks.

  Glancing through the gold tips of her lashes, she met his aloofly mocking eyes. They trailed slowly over her face down her neck to her blouse, dwelling on the material straining over the jutting roundness of her breasts. A silvery flame seemed to lick through the material, igniting a rush of warmth in her veins.

  "I believe you're trying to flirt with me," he drawled, stepping by her to remove a canteen from his saddle.

  Studying the jet black hair that curled around his collar, she tipped her head to one side, feeling playfully bold. "And if I am?"

  He unscrewed the lid of the canteen and handed it to her, his mouth quirking. "I think you're outclassed."

  Her azure eyes sparkled brightly over the rim of the canteen as she took a swallow of the cool water. Her senses were vibrantly alert and ready to take up the challenge. Jill gave him back the canteen.

  "I don't think you know me very well," she retorted softly, almost in warning.

  Had he not raised the canteen to
his mouth at that moment, Riordan would have seen the mischief glittering in her eyes. At precisely the right second, she lifted her hand and tipped the canteen, spilling water over his face. Despite the dangerous glitter in the gray eyes, she couldn't keep from laughing.

  "Why, you little minx!" Riordan growled, but without real anger. The lid was replaced on the canteen as he took a threatening step toward her.

  The hasty, laughing step Jill took backwards sent her bumping into his horse, who moved only a protesting inch. She tried to elude his reaching hands and failed as they dug into the soft flesh of her upper arms.

  "I'm sorry, Riordan, honestly." But the bubbling amusement that remained in her voice belied the assertion. "I couldn't help it."

  Her forearms were pressed against his chest as she laughingly tried to struggle free of his hold. Swinging her head back, she turned her mirthful eyes to his face.

  The smoldering light in his eyes was not from anger and the smile slowly faded from her lips. Her gaze slid to his mouth, so hard, so masculine, and so close, and resistance ebbed with a rush.

  In the next instant, her hands were curling around his neck and his mouth was dosing over hers with a savage insistence. Her lips parted voluntarily in response to his passionate demand. Hands slipped beneath her jacket, sliding smoothly to her back, arching and molding her closer to his male outline.

  Any sense of inhibition was forgotten as she yielded to his expert caresses. Primitive desire seared through her veins. Shivers of excitement danced over her skin as he minutely explored the hollow of her throat and the pulsing cord in her neck. Her breast seemed to swell as his hands cupped its roundness, arousing previously unknown longing for a more intimate caress. His mouth was hungry and possessive when it returned to hers.

  The clatter of hooves against stone shattered the erotic spell. "Riordan, are you coming or not?" Todd called, still some distance away, the pine tree and the horse shielding them from his view.

  As he lifted his head reluctantly, Riordan's hands slid to her waist, holding her against him. Jill nestled her head against his chest, a soft smile curving the lips that still throbbed from his ardent kiss.

  "We'll be right there," Riordan called in a voice that was husky and disturbed.

  Excitement shivered over her skin. Beneath her head she could feel his ragged breathing and hear the uneven beat of his heart, very much in tempo with her own. She could have him.

  In that exultant moment, she knew she could bring this man to his knees. It mattered little that he disliked her because now she knew he desired her. The knowledge provided an immense power she could use to gain her own ends.

  Then Riordan was setting her away from him and walking to the horses to tighten the cinches. Outwardly he seemed completely unmoved by the charged embrace they had just shared. The gray eyes were cool and aloof, like impenetrable granite, when they met the brightness of hers. His control was remarkable. If she hadn't had those few seconds in his arms after he had broken off the kiss, she might not have guessed that she had so successfully aroused him.

  "Mount up," he said, swinging into his own saddle.

  His eyes narrowed thoughtfully as Jill gave him a bemused smile and complied with his order. This trail ride was going to be much more interesting and exciting than she had thought. She met his gaze with an alluring sweep of her long lashes, then moved her horse into the lead.

  Chapter Seven

  THE GREEN MEADOW was nestled high in the mountains, a miniature valley where the mountain hesitated before soaring toward the sun. Cutting a path near the encroaching forest, a stream tumbled joyously over itself, crystal clear and cold from melting snow.

  "I almost wish we never had to leave." Jill turned regretfully away from the scene.

  "Do you feel like going primitive?" The gray eyes slid to her briefly as Riordan pulled the saddle from Kerry's mount.

  "Something like that," she agreed, smiling at his amused mockery. "What's wrong with returning to nature and the basics?"

  "It's easy to do as long as you've brought supplies, but not quite so romantic when you have to forage for food like any other animal." He set the saddle out of the way and tossed a short blanket to Jill. "Rub the horse down and make sure he's dry."

  The horse stood docilely as she began to wipe dry the dark stain of perspiration where the saddle and pad had lain. "So you don't think I would like the life in the rugged outdoors?"

  As he glanced over the seat of Todd's saddle, his mouth twisted dryly. "You tell me. After a month, your nails would be broken, your hands would be rough and callused. That beautiful complexion of yours would probably be burned by the sun. And who would fix your shiny golden hair?"

  Jill laughed. "Why couldn't you have pointed out the hardships and dangers? You could have attacked something other than my vanity." Inside she was secretly pleased that he had noticed so much about her.

  "Want some help, Riordan?" Todd paused in front of the horse his brother was now rubbing down. "The camp is all set up and Kerry is gathering more firewood from the deadfall."

  "No," Riordan answered after glancing at the site that had been chosen for the night's camp. "You might was well get those telescoping rods from the pack and start catching our supper. Jill and I will finish up here."

  "What will we eat if Todd doesn't catch any trout?" she challenged lightly when they were again alone with the horses.

  "The contingency menu consists of the old western standby—beans." His eyes crinkled at the corners.

  It was only the second time Jill had seen him smile naturally. Her heart quickened at how devastatingly attractive it made him.

  Tapping the rump of Todd's horse to move it out of the way, Riordan walked around it to his own saddled mount. Jill finished her horse and walked to the bay's head, absently stroking its nose. It blew softly in her hand, the dark brown eyes almost curious in its inspection of her.

  "What is your horse's name?" she asked, running her fingers through the horse's tangled black forelock.

  Riordan shrugged indifferently. "Boy. Fella." Mockery gleamed silvery bright in the eyes that glanced at her face. "At times, some other names a gentleman shouldn't repeat in front of a woman."

  "Doesn't he have a name?" Her head tilted to one side in surprise.

  "No. He's only an animal. There are a few horses on the ranch that supposedly have names, the ones that happen to be registered stock." He lifted the saddle off the horse's back, swinging it onto his shoulder and carrying it over to the others. He returned to start rubbing the horse down. "This one is just a mountain-bred horse with no pedigree."

  "You honestly don't name your horses?" Jill persisted. "Why?"

  The brim of his hat was pulled low, throwing his face into shadow. She couldn't be certain, but she thought she saw his expression momentarily harden. Fox long seconds he didn't answer. She thought he was going to ignore her question altogether.

  "I was about five when Dad gave me my first horse, a buckskin named Yellowstone Joe. I suppose like any boy I imagined he was the best horse in the world. When I was twelve, one Indian summer day I rode him into the mountains to go hunting. I didn't pay any attention to the time until I realized that it was afternoon. I was miles from the ranch with little chance of making it back before dark, unless I took a short cut. It meant going down a steep slide area, with a lot of loose rock. I'd taken Joe down it before, but I'd forgotten to consider that there'd been a storm recently. When we started down, the ground slid out from beneath us. I was thrown clear and rolled to the bottom. Joe was there, too, with both front legs broken."

  Her chest constricted sharply, her blue eyes darkening to mirror the endurable pain she knew he must have felt. But for all the emotion in his voice, he could have been discussing the weather.

  "I was miles from home and help, not that there was anything that could be done for Joe. I couldn't leave him like that, suffering and helpless. I knew he had to be put out of his misery and there wasn't anyone around but me. My marksmans
hip was off, and it took two shots to kill him. I started walking for home. Dad and a search party found me around nine o'clock that night."

  Jill could hardly distinguish his impassive features through the thick wall of tears, but she could tell his face was turned to her. She could just barely make out the cynical curl of his mouth.

  "I don't put names on something I might have to destroy, not any more. Horses are only animals, like cattle you slaughter to eat. It was a lesson that had to be learned," Riordan concluded unemotionally.

  "Yes. Yes, I see." Her voice was choked by the knot in her throat, hoarse and raw with commiseration for that twelve-year-old boy. She knew any minute the tears would spill from her eyes for Riordan to scorn. "I…I think I'll go and help…Kerry."

  "Go ahead," he agreed blandly. "I don't need you. I can finish up here."

  Jill wondered if he had stopped needing anybody that day when he was twelve. Two years before that, his mother left him for a reason he couldn't understand. Was it any wonder he had grown up so hard and cynical? She wanted desperately to reach out and gather that little boy in her arms and ease his hurt and grief. Only Riordan wasn't a little boy anymore and he didn't allow himself to be hurt.

  Try as she would, Jill couldn't forget the scene his indifferent voice had described. It haunted her, dulling the beauty of the meadow and marring the serenity of the mountain stream. That long-ago event didn't hurt him anymore. She was a fool to let it hurt her.

  It didn't change the fact that she had the power to bring him to his knees. She could still use the physical attraction he felt for her to manipulate him into approving of Todd and Kerry's marriage.

  A cold, ruthless streak had become embedded in him and he would not hesitate to use any means within his grasp. It wasn't as if she could hurt him again. He was beyond being hurt. He pitied no one, so why should she pity him?