The Rancher's Bride

by Pamela Britton

  Her teeth had begun to chatter. Outside the warmth of the car, she’d grown cold quickly. “Why? Surely in this day and age people will understand.”

  “Not Laurel’s dad.” He rocked his hat back, scratched his forehead, a nervous habit she suddenly realized. “He’s as old school as they come. He didn’t like Laurel’s ex-boyfriend, either. If he were to find out the man left her the moment she told him she was pregnant and wanted to keep the baby, he’s apt to hunt him down with a shotgun.” He lifted his hands. “No lie.”

  “And that’s somehow your problem?”

  She hated to sound cold and callous, but if he was telling the truth, it was the most ridiculous reason in the world to marry someone.

  “You have to know Lyle Harrington.”

  “And what about your mom? You don’t think she won’t be hurt when she finds out the truth?”

  He tipped his head down and didn’t move for a moment. “That’s the part I didn’t really think through,” he admitted.

  She couldn’t see his face, the black hat he wore obscuring it from view.

  “I didn’t think a lot of this through.” He met her gaze again. “I didn’t think about my mom…or what might happen if someone came along who I was attracted to.”

  Though she was chilled to the bone, though her body shook, a warmth seeped through her when she spotted the look in his eyes.

  So he did feel it, too.

  “Ryan, I—”

  “No,” he interjected. “Don’t say anything. I know this is a lot to swallow. I know you might find it all hard to believe, but you can ask Laurel if you want. I’ll tell her I talked to you. You sort of need to know, anyway.” He scratched his head again. “Laurel’s having a hard time with this, too. She told me about her meeting with you, said she felt horrible, especially when Lyle showed up. She’s racked with guilt.”

  She believed him. It explained so much.

  He took a step closer to her. Jorie told herself to move back, that what she saw in his eyes could be dangerous, maybe even forbidden, and yet she didn’t move.

  “I can’t stop thinking about you,” he confessed. “And yet here I am with a damn engagement ring in my pocket that I’m supposed to be giving to my bride.”

  “Ryan—”

  He cupped her face with his hands. “I just have to find out.”

  She froze, told herself again to pull away. But she knew what he wanted.

  “Jorie,” he murmured.

  And so she didn’t move away. Didn’t do anything other than close her eyes as his head came closer, and then closer still, the cold she’d felt earlier completely gone now.

  She felt the warmth of his body first, then the heat of his breath. Something grazed her lips, something hot and yet delicate that pressed against her own lips, at first gently, then harder and harder.

  Oh, dear.

  Because there was no denying it. Just that one touch and her whole chilled, tired body came alive. The pressure increased even more, and even though Jorie knew she shouldn’t, that things had gone far enough, she opened her mouth, groaning as she tasted him for the first time.

  Coffee and cream. Sugar and spice…and Ryan. That’s what he tasted like, his essence filling her mouth and seducing her to open for him even more.

  He pressed her backward at the same time he seemed to lose control, suckling her tongue. She moaned again, suckled him back, so instantly aroused by his taste and his tongue that she wanted more.

  He pulled back.

  She gasped.

  “Oh, damn,” he said.

  She wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand, realized she was panting, her body trembling for a different reason now.

  And then he turned, walking away without a backward glance, Jorie leaned against her front door and nearly slid toward the porch.

  “Oh, damn,” she echoed softly.

  * * *

  HE DECIDED TO ride.

  Even though it was pouring rain, even though his mom told him he was crazy, even though he nearly ran over Jackson in his rush to get out of the barn, he all but dragged his horse out of the barn.

  He wanted her.

  Their kiss had proven just how much. He led his horse down the long aisle leading to the entrance of the covered arena.

  “Be careful,” his mom called out from within the shelter of the building, her gaggle of dogs pacing anxiously at her feet. She had her hands on her hips, her gray hair tucked beneath a red cowboy hat. Concern painted shadows upon her face.

  “Don’t worry about me,” he said, urging his horse out into the cold rain before spurring it into a canter.

  The drops nearly blinded him. His horse shook its head. He patted the gelding’s neck in apology and headed toward his mom’s house. There was a trail that went past it that would take him to a place he hadn’t been to in a while, a place he used to call his own when he was little. Fort Clayborne. When Laurel was nine he’d told her about it. It’d become their own secret hideaway then, the Harrington ranch bordering their own. It was secluded there, the creek gurgling loud enough to drown out the sound of voices, the trees so thick no one would see him.

  A place where he could think.

  The churning legs of his horse forced the rain against him harder. He pulled the jacket he’d grabbed from the tack room door close around him, his horse following the path on its own. It wasn’t far, though when they were kids it’d seemed like miles. He approached his mom’s house, the smaller bridal cottage visible in the distance, remembered happy times when his father had been alive. He’d been killed in a tractor accident when Ryan was ten. Ryan could still remember the day it’d happened, remembered how, even as a young kid, he’d known his life would never be the same again.

  What would your dad say about this whole mess?

  He’d be proud of him, Ryan quickly reassured himself. Tell him he was doing the right thing. His dad had been close to Lyle Harrington, too. They’d been like brothers, which is why Lyle had become a second father to Ryan. Hell, there’d even been a time when he’d fantasized about Lyle marrying his mother, but the two of them would only ever be good friends. And now he was marrying Laurel and a part of him wondered if it was out of some twisted sense of obligation.

  “Damn, fool idea.”

  He passed his mom’s house, rode by the pool in the back, raindrops hitting the water’s surface so hard it kicked up a back splash. No lights were on in the bridal cottage, but the building still reminded him of what he strove to forget. It would be dark in a couple of hours, but he didn’t let that stop him. He could find his way home with a blindfold on.

  It wasn’t so bad once he made it to the tree line. Ryan turned left and followed the trail until he hit the creek. Already the rain had turned its sleepy passage into a fast-moving rapid. That was okay. Where he was going the creek never flooded.

  The brush thickened. He had to get off his horse at one point. Everything was overgrown, but not to the point that he couldn’t make his way to the secluded cove. The water was deeper here, the creek appearing almost serene, but he knew better. He tied his horse up to a tree, his hands numb with cold. But he had something for that, too. His saddle pack contained matches. It wasn’t hard to find wood dry enough to burn. He took care to clear a spot, one far enough away from brush that it wouldn’t catch fire, not that he had to worry about a fire getting away from him on a day like today.

  He enjoyed the sound of the rain on the leaves above his head, enjoyed tending to the fire, watching it grow, adding wood to it until he had a nice-sized little blaze…which must be why he didn’t hear the horse and rider approach until it was too late.

  “Hey, Ryan.”

  Laurel.

  His mom must have called her in a panic and Laurel, sweet Laurel, had been concerned for her friend. He could see
it on her face as she hopped off her horse. She wore a plastic cover over her cowboy hat that turned the black a dusky gray, and a yellow rain slicker that stood out against a backdrop of brush and trees. In a word, she looked warm, something he hoped to be soon, he thought, adding another piece of wood to the fire.

  “Your mom called.” She tied her horse up next to his own.

  “Figured as much.”

  Her raincoat crinkled as she turned to face him. “Said you rode off like a man on his way to a gunfight.”

  Sounds like something his mom would say.

  “Does this have to do with the wedding?”

  He didn’t answer, just stared into the flames.

  She squatted down next to him, leaned in, grabbed a piece of wood and tossed it on the fire. She wore jeans beneath her slicker, her lace-up boots made of leather that were as worn as her saddle.

  Rancher’s daughter.

  That’s what Laurel was, unlike Jorie. Hell, he thought, picking up a twig of his own, stripping it of dead leaves and lobbing it onto the flames, he didn’t even know where Jorie was born, much less what kind of childhood she’d had.

  “You want to talk about it?”

  “No.”

  “If it helps, my dad was grilling me about our engagement, too.”

  “It’s not that.”

  “Then what is it?”

  When he met her gaze, he noticed her head was tilted to one side, long strands of brown hair spilling over one shoulder. Her gray eyes were full of concern mixed in with sadness.

  “I had to buy you a ring today.”

  Her mouth formed into an O. She looked toward the fire, her eyes seeming to dance from the reflection of the flames.

  “Ryan,” she finally said. “If you want to back out—”

  “No,” he said quickly, although that’s exactly what he’d come here to think about.

  “You don’t need to fear my father. Once I explain the truth, he’ll understand.”

  “I said I would marry you and I will.”

  She leaned toward him again, grabbed another piece of kindling. “Don’t sound so excited about it.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not going to lie, Laurel. I hate deceiving my mom. She’s so excited. I thought she was going to kill me when she realized I hadn’t bought you a ring. And then today, when I was picking that ring out for you, all I could think was that maybe we were making a mistake.”

  “Maybe we are,” she said, tipping her head up. “That’s why maybe we shouldn’t do this.”

  “Your father would disown you, Laurel. You would break his heart. You know it and I know it. He still thinks of you as his little girl. Telling him you’re pregnant out of wedlock…”

  “He’d get over it.”

  “No,” Ryan said, meaning it. “He’s too old-fashioned. Too stubborn.”

  “So you want to go through with it then?”

  No. He didn’t want to go through with it at all.

  She scooted closer to him, her hand reaching out to cover his own. It was warm. Far warmer than his own.

  “You know this might work.”

  He shook his head.

  “We’re best friends. Plenty of marriages have started out with less than that.”

  “We’ve never even kissed.”

  “We can change that,” she said softly.

  He didn’t want to.

  “Ryan?” she said, her face leaning close to his.

  He shot up from the fire. “Not now.”

  When he glanced back down at her she didn’t bother to hide her disappointment. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. She covered her belly with her hand. “So sorry to do this to you.”

  He turned away again, so torn by his loyalty to Laurel and his own personal desires that he felt almost ill.

  “Is there someone else?” Laurel asked, standing.

  “No,” he said quickly, perhaps too quickly.

  Laurel didn’t seem to notice. The fire snapped. One of their horses snorted. The rain began to lighten up, the sky slowly darkening.

  “Ryan,” she said, moving closer, “I promise. If this doesn’t work out, we can call it quits.”

  “How long?”

  “How long what?”

  “For how long do we give this a try?” he asked.

  “I don’t know, at least until the baby’s born.”

  The noose of commitment slowly tightened around his neck.

  “And if I do meet someone else?”

  She moved closer, stepped in front of him. “Have you?” she asked again.

  “No,” he said. “But if I do? You’re asking me to be celibate, Laurel, and I’m no monk.”

  “You wouldn’t have to be celibate.”

  “Yes, Laurel,” he said firmly. “I would.”

  She looked away, the flames highlighting her profile. “Then I would hope you could wait, at least as long as we’re married.”

  They weren’t married, and still he felt so racked by guilt that after kissing Jorie all he’d wanted to do was run away. Yet he’d never leave Spring Hill Ranch. And he’d never leave Laurel, not after he’d promised her his name.

  He was just that type of guy.

  “You have my word I’ll never cheat on you as long as we’re together.”

  Though the daylight had waned, he could still see her relief. “Thank you.”

  He headed toward his horse, his feet sinking into the ground. Once he escaped the shelter of the trees, the drops came down harder.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Back home.” He checked his horse’s girth. “I need to help feed.”

  “You don’t have to leave,” she said as he swung atop his horse and picked up the reins. “Sam will take over for you tonight.”

  But there was no sense in hiding anymore. He’d made his decision. He’d committed to Laurel. He would stay committed to Laurel.

  “I’ll see you back at the ranch,” he said, turning his horse away.

  “When?” she asked.

  “Tomorrow. We have things to discuss. Things related to the wedding.”

  She was pretty in a wholesome sort of way. A lot of men would be happy with a woman like Laurel. Frankly, if he were honest with himself, when he’d agreed to the marriage he’d sort of thought maybe he could be happy with her.

  And then he’d met Jorie.

  “What kind of things?”

  “Just some stuff my mom wants to go over.”

  “Okay,” she said.

  He clucked his horse forward, but the gelding had only taken two steps when he pulled him up again. “Oh, yeah,” he said, turning back to her. “If we’re going through with this, I suppose I better give you this.” He reached into his pocket and tossed the ring in her direction, but he didn’t wait to see if she caught it. Instead he hightailed it out of there.

  Before he changed his mind.

  Chapter Eleven

  Jorie couldn’t sleep.

  She rolled over in bed for about the hundredth time and told herself to stop acting like a fool. Ryan would not be sneaking into her house.

  Then why’d you wear a pair of frilly underwear and a white tankini to bed?

  Because it was warm in the house, she told herself. That’s all. He’d made it clear by walking away from her and then disappearing for hours that he considered their kiss a mistake. She did, too.

  And still she burned.

  Her body came alive at just the thought of his lips on her own, at the memory of what his tongue had done, at the taste of him… .

  She groaned, tugged the pillow over her head, kicked at her mattress in frustration. Nothing soothed her.

  So she lay there.

 
; At some point she must have fallen asleep. She awoke with a start, the sheets tangled around her and the sound of a car revving in the distance. She opened her eyes. The room was the muted gray of morning. And, no, her sluggish mind corrected. That wasn’t an engine, it was the sound of her cell phone buzzing atop her nightstand. She’d put it on vibrate.

  Where had her bedspread gone? What time was it? She reached for her cell phone. “Hello?”

  “Jorie Peters?” someone asked, a female someone.

  Jorie reached for the sheet tangled around her feet, dragged it up over her body. “This is she.”

  “Oh, hey, Jorie. This is Sophia Brandon. We met yesterday. I wondered if you’d had time to scout out some additional locations for my wedding.”

  Sophia. The bride from yesterday. Was it really only yesterday? It felt like an eternity.

  “Actually,” Jorie said, “I was hoping to get to that today.” She glanced at the time on the clock, only to sit up suddenly. It was nine o’clock.

  “Okay, good.”

  Odelia.

  Jorie almost groaned. Was she angry? Not even a week on the job and already she was late.

  “I promise I’ll get back to you just as soon as possible. Is that okay?”

  “Sure, sure,” Sophia said. “And I wanted to let you know how much we liked the place. Even with the skies threatening rain, it was still beautiful. I can only imagine what it would be like in the spring.”

  Jorie could, too, but then she found herself wondering if she’d even be here next spring. She wasn’t exactly off to a great start.

  Ryan.

  She’d have to face him this morning. Goodness. Odelia had asked him to take her out to that lake today.

  Please, Lord, let him have already left for the day.

  She rang off with Sophia, hopped out of bed, and dressed as fast as she could in a pair of cream-colored slacks and a white blouse. She didn’t bother with her hair, just brushed through it, leaving it down. She couldn’t believe she’d overslept. Not today. Not when she needed to be at her best to deal with Ryan.

  She’d been walking up to the office lately, but she was so late she decided to drive. The only sign that it’d poured yesterday were the puddles that had formed in the gravel road. Her tires splashed through them. She darn near skidded to a halt in front of the big arena.