Forbidden Moon--The Moon Trilogy--Book Three

by Jane Bonander

  Fool. Fool. Fool. How many years had she wondered what his kiss would feel like? How many times, in her secret dreams, had she tried to imagine it? She’d told herself it would never be as good as she’d dreamed. As she licked her lips, finding the lingering taste of him on and in her mouth, she knew it wasn’t true. The bubble of anger that had festered since the day before, when she realized Buck was going to be a stumbling block to her happiness, burst into full-blown rage.

  After the confrontation with Buck, Molly had stormed back to the house and gone immediately to the piano that Nicolette had just left, pounding out the lusty strains of Chopin’s “Revolutionary Etude” to release her anger. It was a grand piece for that, for it took so much effort to play, it got rid of most of her hostility.

  Even so, by evening, she still hadn’t shaken away the feel of Buck’s kiss or the sound of his voice, calmly, huskily telling her he could tell she was around just by her scent. Her education with the sensual had virtually ended the moment she was forced into the rigid school for girls. Her imagination hadn’t. She wondered if he could truly smell her. Was there really an essence about her that he could sense? She doubted it. Highly. Even so … it was a provocative idea, and it had teased her for the rest of the day.

  After dinner, as she and Charles waited in the salon for Nicolette to grace them with a small recital, she broached the subject that had been eating at her since morning.

  “Charles, I really think Nicolette’s infatuation with your ranch hand is out of control.”

  Charles appeared amused. “If it’s just an infatuation, Margaret, why are you so upset? Because he’s a breed? Breeds and Mexicans are expendable. I’ve told you that before.”

  Molly moved her fingers along the line of a small wrinkle in the skirt of her green faille dress. “Well, ah …”

  To him, her hesitation must have sounded like an agreement. “Margaret, Margaret,” he said, his voice filled with delight. “I knew you thought like I did. You know I’d never let this foolishness go anywhere. Oh, don’t get me wrong. Breeds and Mexicans have their place. Personally,” he added, taking a sip of his brandy, “I couldn’t get along without them. I’ve already told you that.”

  “But, Charles, if he—”

  “He won’t,” Charles interrupted, pressing close to her on the sofa. “Besides, I need him too much, and he knows it. I give him far more latitude to do things his own way than anyone else would. He’s almost his own boss, so to speak. He’s too smart to get himself killed over a woman. Any woman.”

  “A woman? Charles, she’s just a girl.”

  He leaned over and gave her fingers an affectionate squeeze. “And if I find he’s trying to encourage her, I’ll get rid of him. Maybe I should give him more time off,” he mused, leaning back against the sofa. “Obviously he’s not spending enough time in Cedarville.”

  “What’s in Cedarville?”

  “There’s a—” He shook his head. “No, it’s not for delicate feminine ears.”

  Molly almost cursed. “For heaven’s sake, Charles, I’m not an eggshell. What does he do in Cedarville?” She watched as his blue eyes flared with desire.

  “You don’t know? Can’t guess?”

  She tried to contain her resentment at being treated like a swooning belle. “If I knew, I wouldn’t be asking.”

  “Margaret, really, I don’t think it’s—”

  “What does he do in Cedarville?” she grilled.

  He sighed. “If you must know, there’s a particular … lady,” he said, obviously using the word lightly, “he sees on an occasional basis.” He gave her a nervous laugh. “Funny, I thought breeds were lusty bas—” He blushed and cleared his throat. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you with such talk.”

  Molly turned away, her face twisting into a frown. So, Buck had a woman in Cedarville. The realization sat heavily on her chest, and it was not a welcome sensation. Suddenly the memory of his kiss whispered inside her, and she bristled.

  “He’s probably the lusty stud at some brothel.” The minute the words were out, she wanted to gobble them back. She felt herself flush.

  Charles spun around and stared at her. “Really, Margaret. Where did you learn to talk like that?”

  “Oh, Charles,” she said, truly flustered, “I’m sorry if that offended you. It’s just that … that the man is so arrogant and infuriating.”

  He gave her a strange look. “I had no idea you’d even spoken to him.”

  “Well … well, I haven’t, of course. It’s just his attitude. He’s cocky and … and so self-assured …”

  “Rather a little too sure of himself for a breed, is that what you mean?”

  She expelled a huge sigh. “Yes. Exactly. Far too sure of himself—for a breed.” Or any other kind of man.

  “Don’t worry about Nicolette’s crush on Randall.” He squeezed her hand again. “I may find him the most talented horseman I’ve ever hired, but he can still be replaced. In fact,” he added, giving her an intent look, “I’ll get rid of him tomorrow if it pleases you.”

  Her heart jumped against her ribs. “What do you mean get rid of him? … Fire him?”

  Charles sighed, then quickly looked away. “Yes, I suppose, but—”

  “But, what?” Molly felt the stab of fear again. “You wouldn’t kill him just because Nicolette has a crush on him, would you?”

  He looked at her, his eyes filled with a strange humor. “Would that bother you so much?”

  “Well, well, certainly not. No, of course not,” she answered, trying not to stumble over her words. “But it wouldn’t make any sense to kill him, would it? I mean, he doesn’t seem to be encouraging Nicolette’s advances. He seems … he seems completely oblivious to them.”

  Charles raised his eyebrows. “Then what has you so upset?” He took another sip of brandy. “Sounds like everything’s under control.”

  She sighed. “Even so, I do wish she’d quit ogling him. You never know,” she added, turning toward him, “when he’ll weaken and do something … irrational.”

  Chuckling, Charles leaned over and kissed her cheek. “A man who weakens under the spell of a flighty, flitty, sixteen-year-old girl is a fool. Randall is no fool.”

  “Perhaps you’re right. But still, it could happen.”

  “And if it happens, I’ll deal with it. All right?”

  She nodded, wishing she hadn’t brought the subject up at all. Oh, her mouth got her into the most awful muddles.

  He chuckled. “I think he’s an honorable bastard. For a breed, that is.”

  Molly turned away again so he couldn’t see the relief in her eyes. Lord, she wanted to get rid of Buck, but she didn’t want him dead.

  Just then, Nicolette entered the room and glared at them, obviously aware that she’d been the topic of discussion, and not liking it one little bit. When she sat at the piano and began playing a sweet Schubert melody, Molly could tell, just by the sharp angle of her spine, that Nicolette was piqued.

  Charles barely heard Nicolette play. His mind raced with his feelings for Margaret. He’d never seen her so angry, so disgusted before. It excited him. His blood thickened; there was a pleasant, potent tightening in his groin.

  He brought his hand up to cover his smile. He’d thought Margaret was pretty, but bland. A bleeding heart, yes, but certainly passionless beneath that voluptuous body. Now he knew differently. He’d seen the heat in her eyes when she’d found fault with Randall. Her hatred of breeds was nearly as intense as his own. He could feel it. And that fed the flames that had simmered like embers since her arrival. He no longer thought of her as frigid, merely sweet and lifeless.

  Her beauty and talent had drawn him at first. She would be a prize for any man, and he’d wanted to claim her for his wife. Beautiful things were his weakness. He’d even decided that when they were married, he’d live in a passionless, loveless union. Hell, there were plenty of hot-blooded Mexican whores who could satisfy his lust, a
nd his penchant for the bizarre.

  But now, he thought, the strains of Nicolette’s music dancing on the fringes of his thoughts, perhaps his and Margaret’s marriage bed would be well used, after all.

  Feeling the urge for release, he squirmed and shot a sidelong glance at Margaret. Oh, yes, he wanted her, but he couldn’t do anything to jeopardize the relationship. Not yet. Not until he had her at his disposal legally.

  He looked at the clock on the mantel. There was still time to find that quivering new maid, Maria. Angelita, that coldhearted bitch, had brought the little bird to him, claiming she was her niece, and needed work. He and Angelita had always had an underlying hatred for one another. She was far too aloof for a woman of her station. It would serve her right if she discovered he was fucking the little tart right under her nose. The thought of Maria’s face and lusty brown body floated before him. Swallowing repeatedly, he tamped down the urge to leave the salon in the middle of Nicolette’s recital and seek out Maria’s taut brown thighs and warm bed.

  Four

  Buck grabbed his Stetson off the hook by the door, left the bunkhouse and strode toward the barn. The morning sun still hadn’t cleared the eastern ridge. He hadn’t slept worth a damn, tossing and turning all night thinking about Molly. Finally, at four A.M., when several of the hands had gone out to look for cattle stuck in the bogs, he’d drifted off. Then, dammit, he’d even dreamed about her.

  In his waking moments, he’d vacillated between saving her from herself and letting her stew in her pot of mishaps. She’d always been a girl of many talents, but as far as he was concerned, her talent for getting into trouble was one of her most accomplished. And Campion was trouble. Buck would be doing her a favor by telling Campion what Molly was up to, instead of waiting until she’d dug herself a hole so deep, Campion would savor shoveling the dirt in over her.

  Buck never had understood her. As if she didn’t have enough to worry about when Campion discovered her heritage, she was trying to keep him from dying because of his. As cock-eyed as her logic was, at least it wasn’t selfish.

  But these things hadn’t been the only things to keep him awake. The kiss had, too. Each time he thought about it he found himself hungering for more, and that only made him angrier. He didn’t want to desire her. And he sensed there was something deep inside her that felt the same way. She could protest until the cows come home, but her own response clearly said something else.

  She’d made him so mad, he’d been tempted to take her over his knee. He’d never been that angry with a woman before. Never angry enough to strike. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Now that he thought about it, there had been times when she was a teenager that he’d been inches away from whacking her on the butt. Instead, he’d shouted. Swore. Drank …

  This time, he’d punished her with his mouth. And she’d fought like a hellcat. He’d hoped that would be enough to stop the kiss before it went any further, but it hadn’t. She was no longer that fourteen-year-old hellion, and that was the biggest problem of all. Her answering heat was trouble. He would try his damndest to save her from Campion, but she’d been right to question who was going to save her from him. He’d better damn well get his glands under control.

  He had to find a way to send her home, where she belonged. She and June needed each other. Molly’s single-mindedness about June’s care hadn’t spilled over into the reality that June wasn’t fit to travel halfway across the country just to be with her. Both of their needs were better met back home.

  Needs. He shoved his aside, but the memory of Molly struggling against him, then responding so fiercely the day before set him aflame again. Cursing loudly, he lit a cigarette and pulled the smoke deep into his lungs.

  Somehow, he had to divorce himself from his feelings for her. Though they’d been born under the same circumstances, they’d never wanted the same things. He couldn’t see that ever changing. She wanted a white life; the idea sickened him. But he still couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that he’d know her anywhere, even if he were blindfolded. There was something about her scent that had always driven him crazy. And that scared the hell out of him.

  As he approached the barn, Sage Reno, the only ranch hand he trusted at the Double Bar C, strolled up to him. Shortly after he’d arrived at the ranch, he’d discovered that Reno was an undercover agent for the army. His mission was the same as the one Buck had chosen for himself: To discover where Campion held the stolen herds, and how he got them out of Texas undetected.

  “Miss Campion and her guest want to go into Cedarville. Campion has ordered us to drive shotgun, and as long as we’re there, pick up an extra hand to replace Fidel Martinez.”

  Buck stopped short. “What happened to Fidel?”

  “Don’t you remember? He got that infection in his foot. Angelita’s been doctoring him, but the foot looks pretty bad.”

  Buck tried not to cringe at the prospect of spending the day with Molly. “And he wants us to ride in with them?”

  Sage gave him a canny smile. “I take it you have a problem with that.”

  “Yeah, I’ve got a problem with that.”

  “As long as we’re going in, will you see Nita?”

  Buck swung around, glared at him and swore. “I can’t very well go in and not see her.”

  Sage chuckled. “Hell, no. You’d probably find your head on a plate if you did.”

  Buck winced at the picture of the possessive Nita discovering he’d been to town and hadn’t stopped by. He’d learned years ago that just because she was a whore didn’t mean she didn’t have fierce pride. And she had been a very pleasant, lusty companion. And, of course, there was that other thing …

  Sage squinted at Buck in the dim morning light. “You look like hell, by the way.”

  “Didn’t sleep,” Buck answered, stifling a yawn.

  Sage gentled the team. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with that little skirmish in the barn yesterday morning, would it?”

  Swearing aloud, Buck felt the fine, sharp edges of fear. “That’s something I’d rather not advertise. What did you hear?”

  Sage waved his worry aside. “I heard enough to know that if Campion ever found out, he’d have both of you pushing up prairie flowers.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s true enough.”

  Sage climbed onto the buggy seat. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but when I heard the two of you arguing, I thought I should stick around. In case someone else happened by and, you know, overheard you.”

  Buck sagged slightly, relieved. “Thanks. I appreciate that. The brat’s going to be the death of me.”

  Sage chuckled. “Might well be; but I’d hardly call her a brat. She looks pretty grown-up to me.” After a moment, he added, “Want to talk about it?”

  Buck pulled off his hat and raked his fingers through his hair. “Hell, no. I don’t want to think about it, much less talk about it.”

  But think about it he did. As he watched Sage guide the team toward the house, he could almost feel Molly’s lips pressed against his. And her womanly curves, with the full breasts and the seductively rounded hips. And her hair … that wild, tawny mane of hair … Heaving a ragged sigh, he ground out his cigarette and went into the darkened barn.

  As he neared the stall where he kept his own horse, he talked softly. The animal’s ears perked up, and he whickered in return. Buck stepped into the stall and pulled out an apple, shoving it gently against the animal’s muzzle. With uncommon daintiness, the horse lifted the apple into its mouth with its huge teeth. Buck had broken the gray stallion with the black mane and tail a few months before, and had worked with him constantly ever since.

  “You’ve got to have a name, boy.” Marveling at the long, strong lines, Buck thought back to the day he’d first seen the animal racing across the plains. “You sounded like thunder. That’s what I’ll call you. Tim-me-la’-le, the Thunder.”

  He saddled the beast, soothing him with words as the animal a
gain became familiar with the stricture. As he tightened the flank cinch, he swore he could still smell Molly’s sweet scent in the early morning air.

  Molly wasn’t a bit anxious to make the trip back into Cedarville. Picking up supplies the day Charles had come for her would have made sense, but when she’d mentioned it, Charles had simply told her how much Nicolette enjoyed doing it. He didn’t want to take away one of her pleasures. Pleasures? Somehow, Molly didn’t see riding back up that steep incline a very pleasant activity.

  Nicolette, on the other hand, was ecstatic. And Angelita, who usually accompanied her on these ventures, was suffering from a bad back. As Molly had sliced beef for the cowhands’ breakfast earlier, Angelita handed her the list of things she needed from the store. At that point, Molly had no choice but to surrender. After cleaning up the breakfast dishes, she went out on the porch to wait for the buggy.

  She was relieved when she saw the big stranger driving the team, for she’d been afraid it would be Buck. There wasn’t any way she could spend the entire day with him and pretend she didn’t know him at all. Just the thought sent her muscles into spasms.

  In spite of his size, the man jumped gracefully from the buggy. “Miss Lindquist?”

  Molly relaxed further. He seemed pleasant and his smile was charming. She remembered now that she had seen him briefly at breakfast. “Yes. Are you driving us to town?”

  He nodded. “Name’s Reno, ma’am. Sage Reno.”

  She smiled her response. “Nicolette will be out shortly.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he answered politely.

  A seed of excitement swelled within her for the first time all morning. Maybe the trip wouldn’t be so dreadful after all.

  Nicolette burst onto the porch with a wicker basket dangling from her fingers. “Oh, Sage. Good morning. Angelita packed us a lunch. Are you driving the team, or is Buck?”

  Molly’s stomach dropped. “Buck?”

  Nicolette nodded as she swished past Molly and on down the steps. “Buck and Sage will escort us. Charles doesn’t trust anyone else.”