The Cowboy's Reluctant Bride

by Debra Cowan

  Chapter Nine

  Everything at the farm had been quiet last night. Except Ivy. Gideon hadn’t heard her cry out again, but he was still concerned about what had happened.

  When he came in for breakfast after milking the cows and feeding the horses, she was putting a basket of fluffy biscuits on the table. He inhaled the yeasty scent of bread and the rich aroma of coffee. It wasn’t the savory juiciness of frying meat that had his mouth watering. It was his wife.

  The dress she wore was blue-and-white checkered with a square-cut neck that showed a hint of golden skin. The sleeves ended just below her elbows, revealing the delicate bones of her wrists and forearms.

  Her hair had been plaited then coiled around and upswept into some pretty do that bared her dainty ears, and the tender bit of flesh behind her ears where he wanted to press his mouth.

  Whoa, slow down.

  As she put two plates on the table, she gave him a fleeting smile, not meeting his eyes. Was she embarrassed or upset about what had happened last night?

  The pup whined and scratched at her crate. “Thunder, no,” Gideon said firmly.

  She whined again, but stopped clawing at the wooden slats.

  He palmed off his hat and hung it on the peg, glancing at Ivy. “Smells good.”

  “Have a seat. It’s ready.” She went to the stove and returned with a platter of fried bacon.

  He took it and watched as she fetched the coffeepot from the stove burner. There were dark circles under her eyes, and she was quiet.

  “Did you sleep?”

  “Yes.” She didn’t look as though she had.

  Staying alert in case she cried out again, Gideon hadn’t gotten much rest himself. She might not want to talk about last night, but the memory hung in the air between them. He recalled the vehemence in her voice, the near hate when she’d cursed Powell. Just like she’d sounded in the wagon on the way home yesterday when he’d asked about her feelings for her late husband.

  He couldn’t help being concerned. “How are you holding up?”

  Her gaze shot to his as she set down a plate of eggs.

  “After last night, I mean.”

  Her mouth tightened. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Of course.”

  The pup yelped, making it plain she wanted out of her crate. At the same time, Gideon and Ivy told her to hush.

  He pulled out Ivy’s chair, and after she sat, he eased down into the seat beside hers. “You said last night you didn’t have a nightmare.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “So why were you cursing Tom?”

  “Eggs?” she asked pointedly, scooting the platter toward him.

  “Ivy?”

  She forked several pieces of meat onto her plate.

  He clamped down on the urge to push. Why wouldn’t the woman tell him anything? “Did things between you go bad?”

  Though her face closed up, there was plenty of emotion in her dark eyes. The torment there tugged at something deep inside him.

  She looked away. “I thought you weren’t going to do anything I didn’t want.”

  “You mean, ask questions you’re not inclined to answer?”

  She gave a sharp nod.

  Hell. Why had he gone and said that? “So you won’t tell me about it.”

  “No.”

  Every part of him wanted to press her, wanted to know what would put such scorn in her voice.

  Despite his frustration, Gideon left it alone. There were things he didn’t want her to know, either. “All right.”

  Even though she stared down at her plate, he felt her surprise at his agreement. “Thank you.”

  He nodded, digging into his breakfast. Maybe if he gave her some time, she would tell him. But if she did, it wasn’t going to be today, Gideon realized as they finished their meal and she rose to clear the dishes.

  He stood, too, and carried his plate to the dry sink. Scraping the remains of their meal onto a tin plate, he took it to Thunder and let her out of the crate. The pup attacked the eggs then the bits of bacon.

  When he rejoined Ivy, the dishes were stacked in a tub. She barely spared him a glance. Her frame was rigid, unease vibrating from her. She acted leery of him. Was she waiting for him to ask more questions?

  “I’ll pump some water,” he said.

  “Thank you.”

  He returned with a full bucket, and she began to wash the dishes.

  “Want some help?” he asked.

  “No, I’ll do it,” she said quickly. “I mean, I don’t mind doing it.”

  In other words, vamoose. “All right. I’ll take the pup. We’ll be around the farm.”

  She nodded. “This afternoon, I need to go buy a horse.”

  “To replace the one you had to give the mayor?”

  “Yes.”

  “All right. Where are we going?”

  “The Roberts’s place. Marcus Roberts and his brothers breed and sell the best horses around.”

  “Do you want to ride or take the wagon?” Gideon asked.

  “Ride. It’s been a while since I have.”

  “Let me know when, and I’ll saddle our mounts.”

  “Thank you,” she said softly.

  He didn’t want her damn thanks. He wanted to know what last night had meant. Clamping down on his frustration, he went about his chores. He checked the woods and around the house, glad to see there were no signs of anyone besides them. No missing, injured or dead animals.

  When he joined her for the noon meal, she held herself stiffly aloof. Last night, Gideon had wanted to hold her, soothe her. He still did, but he was determined to keep his hands to himself. And keep his mouth shut about her late husband.

  It was midafternoon before they set out for the horse ranch. Ivy rode astride in those damn pants he’d seen once before, and Gideon was hard-pressed to even hold up his end of the conversation, minimal though it was.

  He did a lot of nodding as she told him that the Roberts family raised and trained the best horses in the Territory. Ivy led the way through the pasture behind her house and across the river, heading north.

  She gestured toward a stand of pecan trees, pointing out the spot that marked the beginning of the large Roberts spread. Their mounts moved through thick green alfalfa as they came within sight of a sprawling two-story stone home that looked like a mansion to Gideon.

  They passed a barn full of hay then another, sectioned into feed bins, then a paddock outfitted with a cattle chute at one end.

  Across the rolling countryside, horses dotted the landscape. Small pink and yellow flowers pushed up through the ground in random clusters. The sky was a clear blue, the sun a buttery-yellow that flickered off the surface of a small creek that ran alongside their route. Off in the distance, hills rose into mountains thick with timber.

  Gideon found it nearly impossible to pay attention. He was acutely aware of Ivy’s perfect backside in those britches and the smooth, easy rhythm she had with her mount.

  They came up on a corral with about a dozen fine-looking mares and geldings. A sandy-haired man who looked younger than Gideon walked out of the barn to meet them.

  He was dressed in a blue shirt that had probably been spotless when he’d started work this morning. Pulling a bandanna from his back pocket, he wiped his hands on the cloth as he moved toward them. “Ivy! Hello.”

  “Hello, Marcus.” She reined up at the horse trough just outside the corral.

  Gideon eased his mount to a stop next to hers as she introduced the two men.

  Sturdy and standing about six feet tall, Marcus Roberts had the sun-weathered face and hands that bespoke a life of ranching and outdoor work. Gideon slid off his mount and shook the man’s hand befo
re moving around to help Ivy down.

  He had to force himself to release her, especially when he noticed Roberts eyeing her in those britches with the same frank male interest that Gideon had. He had a fierce primal urge to claim her as his, an urge that wasn’t satisfied even after Ivy announced they were married.

  Gideon stayed close even though it played hell with his resolve to keep his hands to himself. When she stepped up on the bottom rung of the corral fence, he put a hand low on her back and left it there, glad that she didn’t stiffen or move away.

  It didn’t take her long to choose the horse she wanted. She pointed at a black-and-white paint. “Is she saddle-broke?”

  Roberts nodded. “Buggy-broke, too. She’s a good worker.”

  Ivy glanced at Gideon. “What do you think?”

  Surprised she’d asked, he studied the animal. The mare was well-formed with good lines and a proud carriage. Her black eyes were intelligent. “She’s a beauty.”

  Ivy smiled, jerking his world to a stop for a moment and putting him off balance. He wanted to kiss those soft pink lips.

  The feel of her taut waist, the slender line of her spine, the beginning swell of her hips made him want to shuck her out of her clothes. He wanted to see her, all of her.

  He was relieved when they left shortly after purchasing the mare. He held the new horse’s lead rope, and she trotted easily alongside him.

  Ivy appeared much more relaxed than she had all day. Gideon wished he was. His body was tight, and there was a prickly heat beneath his skin.

  When they finally reached the farm, Ivy dismounted before he could help. He joined her at the fence, where she stood stroking the new mare’s velvety nose.

  “You’re a pretty one,” she murmured.

  It was on the tip of his tongue to say the same to her, but he refrained.

  From inside the house, he could hear Thunder yelping. Ivy turned to him with a smile. “I’ll take care of her.”

  “I’ll put up the horses and feed them.”

  “All right. Come in when you’re finished. I’ll fix supper.”

  She gave the new mare a pat then hurried up the walk into the house. Gideon gathered the other horses’ reins and started for the barn. He slowed for one last look back. Ivy’s sleek curves were haloed in the last of the sun’s golden-pink rays.

  By the time he brushed down the horses, fed them and washed up, it was twilight. The early April air was comfortably cool.

  Gideon stepped into the house, where Ivy was frying ham as well as potatoes. The savory aromas made his stomach growl.

  “Need me to fetch anything?” he asked.

  “Plates, please.”

  He retrieved plates and cups then set places for Ivy and himself. The cake they’d brought home last night sat at the corner of the table. The tempting smell of chocolate was too powerful, and he couldn’t resist pinching off a piece of the dessert.

  The sweet practically melted in his mouth. He reached for another bite.

  “Stay out of that,” Ivy exclaimed. “You’ll ruin your supper.”

  He was hungry enough to eat two meals plus an entire cake. Glancing over his shoulder, he dug out forks and knives from the small silverware chest in the cupboard. He placed a pair of utensils beside each plate, unable to resist filching another bit of cake.

  Suddenly beside him, Ivy swatted at his arm. “Did you hear what I said? Supper is almost ready.”

  “What say we eat this first?” he asked hopefully.

  “No.” She reached for the dessert plate.

  He snagged her hand. “Hey, what are you doing?”

  “Just moving it out of temptation’s way.”

  “Or so you can keep it all for yourself,” he teased.

  “Maybe I will.” Her eyes danced.

  “Oh, no, you won’t.” With a mock scowl, he reached for the plate.

  She lunged for it at the same time. “Give that to me!”

  He hooked one arm around her waist and pulled her into his side to keep her pinned in place. Her breasts pressed against him; her silky hair tickled his chin.

  He was distracted enough that he didn’t feel her make a grab for the plate until she had her hands on it. Laughing, she tugged it away from him.

  “Okay, I give,” he said, enjoying the smile on her face as she leaned around him to push the plate across the table.

  “Now, leave that be until after supper.”

  He nodded, still holding her, taken with the slight color in her cheeks and the intent way she suddenly looked at him. As if she wanted to touch him. His pulse thudded hard when she did just that.

  She reached up and flicked at something on his chest. “You got crumbs all over you.”

  Her fingers stroked down his throat then lowered to his chest, brushing away the dessert.

  “There.”

  Her smile turned him inside out, and his attention went to her lips.

  The moment shifted from lighthearted to a thick, pulsing awareness. Gideon involuntarily tightened his hold. Her gaze locked with his as her expression sobered.

  And when she turned her focus to his mouth, raw desire seared him. He bit back a groan.

  He went hard against her. The deep flush on her cheeks said she felt it, too. Gideon fought the compulsion to crush his mouth to hers.

  She shifted, her body settling into his. One hand rested on his chest. She looked up at him with curiosity and longing and clear intent. She was going to kiss him, and he was going to kiss her back.

  C’mon, sweetheart.

  Her breath feathered against his chin as she studied his mouth. He didn’t know how he managed to keep from taking her mouth the way he wanted.

  Every muscle coiled as he fought the urge. She licked her lips and lifted to him. Not boldly, but enough that his heart kicked hard. One long second pulsed between them, then another.

  Just when he thought she might close the distance, she drew away. Only a fraction, but enough to shatter the moment. His heartbeat pounded in his ears. She was still close enough so that all he had to do was dip his head and their lips would touch. But he needed her to make the move.

  She wanted him. It was there in her eyes. But still she waited. Watched. Considered.

  Finally, nerves raw, he said hoarsely, “I won’t put up a fight.”

  She studied him for another second then wiggled out of his hold. He bit back a curse at the feel of her body sliding down his.

  She stepped back, flushed, her pulse jerking in her neck. “I’ll get supper on.”

  No! He stood motionless, struggling to get his body under control. It didn’t work. He knew she was just as affected as he was; his body seemed to have trouble processing that. Finally, the haze of desire cleared even though his body burned. He needed some relief.

  “Uh...I’m going to the river.”

  She took another step back, her brow furrowing. “You don’t have to go all the way down there to wash up.”

  “I know.” His voice sounded gravelly.

  “But it’s only the beginning of April. The water will be freezing.”

  “That’s the point,” he ground out.

  Her attention moved down his body then stopped at his groin. “Oh,” she breathed.

  “Yeah,” he muttered.

  Having her eyes on him there made his trousers painfully tight. His muscles coiled against the need to reach for her. He physically hurt.

  He had told himself he would let her decide if she wanted their marriage to be more than a business arrangement. Right now, that sounded like the most addle-pated idea he’d ever had, and he wasn’t sure he could hold to it. He had to get the hell out of here.

  * * *

  Gideon wasn’t the only one who needed to cool down. After he left,
Ivy wet a cloth and pressed it to her overheated cheeks and neck. She had really wanted to kiss him. Or wanted him to kiss her. She didn’t care; she had just wanted it.

  At least he hadn’t pressed more about Tom. He would at some point, she knew. Another day, two at the most.

  As the days passed, they both stayed busy. Ivy made sure of that. Anticipating more questions from Gideon had her nerves growing more raw every minute.

  Friday was laundry day. The stage made its regular stop on Saturday and again on Tuesday. Conrad expressed his dislike about her marriage to Gideon, but the stage driver didn’t linger. Each day, Ivy braced herself for Gideon to press her about her late husband.

  She expected him to become angry and short with her, but he didn’t. She thought he might try to blackmail the information out of her by maybe refusing to perform the chores he’d taken over. He didn’t do that, either.

  He didn’t do anything she supposed he would—things Tom had done after he started drinking. Though Gideon didn’t avoid her, he seemed to be around only for meals and at night.

  He began to train the half wolf–half dog to give the cows a wide berth and to be respectful of the horses. And he regularly checked the woods and kept an eye on things, watching out for her. Protecting her. Thankfully, there had been no more incidents at the farm.

  Gideon took care of the livestock, doing everything from working with the new mare to doctoring any animal in need to making sure the heavily pregnant cows stayed close to the barn.

  As the week passed, Ivy could barely imagine the farm without him. Which was ridiculous. She’d done just fine on her own before he came.

  As soon as they figured out who wanted to harm her and they dealt with that person, she and Gideon would divorce. That shouldn’t bother her, but it did. A great deal.

  She knew why. What she felt for him had more to do with want than gratitude or even needing his help.

  She found herself being seduced by the idea of a future with him. She didn’t understand that at all. She’d been fooled by Tom and sworn she would never again be taken in by a man.

  What if Gideon wasn’t the man she thought he was? What if he wasn’t showing his true self? So why couldn’t she get the idea of them out of her head?