The Rancher Takes a Bride

by Sylvia McDaniel

  Had he looked for Rose to open her door and seduce him into her room? God, he'd only hoped and dreamed she would entice him into her bed and let him lose himself in her soft curves. He'd thought of little else on the ride home. She was a con artist, an experienced woman, and he wanted her to prove him right. Show him she knew how to use her body to please a man. For one night in her arms, he'd gladly volunteer to ease this constant longing.

  Who was he kidding? He was sorely disappointed. She'd turned out the lantern and gone to bed, without even so much as a good-night kiss. She'd shown him that there would be no dance of seduction tonight. She'd closed the door on him, and though he doubted she was asleep, the message was very clear. Tonight was just like any other night.

  No chaperone, no invitation, no Rose. Nothing but a long night ahead of him, while he tried not to think of the woman lying across the hall. Knowing if he was lucky enough to sleep, his dreams would be of a seductive gypsy weaving a spell around him. He blew out the lantern and stared into the darkness, waiting, hoping she'd come.

  ***

  Travis hurried down to breakfast, needing a strong cup of coffee to clear his head this morning. Sleep had been as elusive as rain in the middle of a drought. Every time he'd dozed, all he'd dreamed of was Rose. That sweet, tempting woman that even in his sleep provoked him, aroused him, and left him wanting.

  The urge to get out of this house, get away from the nearness of Rose, away from the temptation she presented, overwhelmed him. The night had been long and suffocating. He had to get away before he acted upon his urges and lost himself in the wonder of her arms.

  He pushed open the door to the kitchen and froze.

  Expecting to see Cook, he came to an abrupt halt at the sight of a short frame and curvaceous bottom bending over the stove. It could only be Rose.

  She turned around to face him, a pan of biscuits in her hand. "Good morning. Take a seat. The eggs are just about ready."

  "What are you doing in the kitchen?" he asked in surprise.

  She turned and glanced at him, "Cooking is what it's usually called."

  He frowned. "Where's Cook?"

  "Leave the poor man alone. He's not feeling very well this morning."

  "Which usually means that he had too much to drink the night before." Travis shook his head. "So why are you fixing my breakfast?"

  She turned and gave him her full attention, her green eyes sparking with irritation. "I thought you would rather eat than go hungry."

  Travis took a step toward her, and when he reached her side, he lifted a loose curl off her shoulder. "That all depends on whether or not you can cook."

  "Well, I guess you're about to find out," she murmured softly, her green eyes soft and luminous in the pre-dawn light.

  Rose turned back to the stove, and he watched her shoulders relax as she flipped a pancake.

  "Your eggs and pancakes will be ready in just a moment. Take a seat and I'll pour you some coffee."

  He glanced around at the semi-dark room and wondered what she was up to. "Why are you up so early this morning? I could have gone to the bunkhouse and ate with the other men."

  She glanced at him. "I came down to get a cup of coffee and discovered Cook not feeling well. I sent him back to bed, and then I took over."

  "Why were you up so early?" he questioned.

  She glared at him, her eyes narrowing. "When would I have a better opportunity to steal the rest of your mother's jewelry than when you're in bed asleep?"

  "That's not what I meant!" he exclaimed.

  "Isn't that your real question? What was I planning on stealing next?"

  "To be honest, I just wondered if you were feeling all right to be up so early. The sun hasn't even risen. Usually I'm not up yet."

  "Sorry. Guess I'm feeling a little jittery this morning. I ... I couldn't sleep."

  The air between them almost crackled and popped, the tension so intense that Travis felt the need to slip away before he did something foolish, like kiss her. She ran her tongue across her full, red-wine lips, and the urge to nibble softly on her bottom lip until she opened her mouth almost overwhelmed him.

  "I'll set the table," he said quickly, trying to distract himself.

  Rose sighed and turned back to cooking the pancakes and checking the eggs she was scrambling.

  Travis took out the forks and knives and put them on the table. The plates he took to Rose and laid them beside her. This seemed so odd, Rose cooking him breakfast before the sun had even risen. It felt so cozy and intimate and was just the sort of thing he expected from a wife. And it left him nervous as hell.

  He watched as she walked over to the table, the skirt of her new dress moving with the movement of her hips, and he had to suppress a groan. Would she object if he took her right there on the kitchen table? Slid the dishes out of the way, lifted her skirt, and plunged into her nakedness?

  "Would you like some coffee?" she asked.

  "Thanks," he practically croaked, eager for something to wrap his hands around, something besides Rose.

  She poured the hot, steaming liquid into a cup and then returned the pot to the stove. She stirred the eggs several more times, then scooped them up and dished them out on the plates.

  He watched as she set the plate in front of him and then took the seat across from him.

  Picking up his fork, he took a bite, as an awkward silence hung heavy over the table. "These are good."

  "Thank you."

  She picked at her food, not really eating it, but pushing it around the plate and taking little nibbles. He noticed the dark circles under her eyes and wondered if she had experienced the same sleepless night.

  He'd been restless and edgy all night long, constantly tossing and turning. And when he had slept, his dreams had been filled with images of Rose trying on clothes, of her defiantly refusing him in her chemise, her breasts peeking through the material. His hands would reach out to her and he would awaken.

  God, why had he thought his mother's absence would be a good thing? When was she coming back? And how long before his scruples vanished in a heated embrace?

  He glanced up and noticed Rose watching him, her green eyes tempting and seductive, promising enticing pleasures. He couldn't get the chair to slide back quick enough. He had to get out of this small room. Get a breath of fresh air. Maybe even dunk his head in the horse trough, if it would cool him off.

  "You don't want your breakfast?" she asked.

  "I've got to go," he replied, almost running to the back door. He yanked his hat off a peg, opened the door, and walked out without looking back. He couldn't look at her again. Couldn't glance into those emerald eyes and drown in their depths without touching her. And if he touched her there would be no stopping.

  ***

  That did it! He'd hardly said two words during breakfast, and before that he'd almost accused her of getting up early to steal his mother's jewelry. She'd had little sleep the night before, and she couldn't take the tension a moment longer.

  Flouncing indignantly, she ran up the stairs. In her room she changed into Eugenia's old dress and hurried back down. As soon as she found Isaiah, she would tell him to saddle that nag he'd bought in town so they could leave. She couldn't stay here anymore.

  Even the prospect of riding a horse couldn't restrain her from leaving this time. She couldn't face Travis alone over the dinner table, in the parlor, or anywhere else in this big, lonely house. She had to get away now, or else be willing to face the consequences of her desires.

  Racing back down the stairs, she hurried through the parlor and kitchen, then out the back door, taking the same path as Travis. Hopefully, he would have already saddled his horse and gone.

  As she came out of the house, she saw the men riding off in the distance, toward the rising sun, to do the day's work. Isaiah rode with the ranch hands, and her heart sank. She didn't know how to saddle a horse, and it was too late to catch them. She would have to wait until Isaiah returned tonight before they could lea
ve. Unshed tears hovered just beneath her eyelashes. She wanted to leave so badly. She had to get away.

  As she watched the men disappear over the hill, she couldn't see Travis among them, but she hoped he accompanied them, because she didn't want to see him right now.

  Halfway to the bunkhouse, she turned and decided to walk along the pond. After all, there was nothing she could do until Isaiah returned, and she could use a calming, soothing surrounding right now.

  The sun was peeking over the eastern horizon, shooting orange and purple rays against the morning sky. Rose came over the top of the small rise to where the pond lay and groaned when she saw Travis watering his horse there. He raised his head and glanced up at her.

  "What's wrong?"

  She stepped down the slippery embankment toward him. The mud slid beneath her feet, and she almost fell.

  He caught her in his arms, and Rose let out another groan.

  "You changed clothes. Why?" he asked, puzzled.

  "When you catch up to the men, send Isaiah back. We're leaving."

  His eyebrows drew together in a frown and he released her. "Why?"

  She took a step back, her courage suddenly failing her. But bravely she pressed on. "I can't continue this way."

  "What way? Why are you in such a hurry?"

  "I . . . I've got to go."

  Travis looked at her, his head tilted to the side. "I don't understand. Yesterday you were perfectly content, shopping with my mother. What's changed?"

  She turned around to face him. "That's the problem, you don't understand. I am not content. When you brought me here, you didn't tell me how long I'd have to stay."

  "We took you shopping yesterday, and you seemed fine this morning. What has happened to make you so upset?"

  She stepped up to within inches of him and shook her finger. "Don't think that just because you and your mother bought me some new clothes that is going to keep me here. I know you think that I'm not a lady, but I can't be bought"

  "You know perfectly well why I'm keeping you here." He grabbed her arm and pulled her against him. He took his free hand and pushed a strand of hair back away from her face. Rose felt her anger subsiding and knew she couldn't let the desire only Travis seemed to evoke replace her ire. For once it was gone, she'd be lost.

  He was staring at her lips, watching her. She gazed at him as his tongue ran across his own full lips, and then he swallowed. "I can't let you go. Not yet"

  She didn't know if it was an admission or just a general statement, but his voice was harsh, almost rasping. He leaned forward and pulled her deeper into his embrace. She watched as his lips descended on her own, warm and wet, and her hands wrapped around his body seeking a place to hang on, as he drained the resistance from her body. This was why she hadn't wanted him to kiss her. This was why she knew last night she would be lost if he touched her.

  His kiss was demanding, yet so satisfying, as if their souls were hungry for one another. Rose felt a sense of homecoming, a sense of belonging.

  His hands gripped her buttocks, fitting her snugly up against his hardened shaft, and she wondered at the stiffness. She felt faint as his lips moved across her own, the texture of his mouth hard and persuasive.

  The scent she'd come to recognize as Travis flowed around her, filling her, tantalizing her, making her crazy with need.

  Suddenly he broke off the kiss. His voice was rough, his breathing heavy. "You can't leave. Not until you give the ring back."

  She pulled out of his arms and took a step back. She had to break the spell he'd woven around them with his kiss. She took a deep breath, her chest heaving. "You watch me. It's going to take every one of your men holding me down to keep me from leaving. I've been way too patient with you about that damn ring."

  "Don't do this." He grabbed her by the arm. "If that's what you want, it can be arranged. But I'm warning you, you're not leaving until Mother's wedding band is returned."

  She was frightened of her feelings for Travis, she was scared of the emotions he evoked, and she was a stranger in a family where she didn't belong. And all he worried about was his mother's wedding band.

  "Couillon!" She yanked her arm free, turned, and stalked up the embankment of the pond. She had to get away.

  Halfway up the steep sides, she heard him running behind her to stop her. It was one of those moments that seemed to last a lifetime, but took mere seconds.

  Before he could catch her, her foot started to slide in the slick mud. Flailing her arms, she tried to regain her balance, only to go tumbling backward toward Travis. Her back hit his chest, smashing into him. With a grunt, he fell to the soft mud, catching Rose as she landed between his legs. The momentum of their fall carried them sliding down the embankment until they landed with a splash in the cool water of the pond.

  Rose sat up, spewing the muddy water from her mouth, wiping the grit from her eyes.

  Travis came up spewing curse words. When he turned his brown eyes on Rose, he glared. "Damn it, Rose, you didn't have to knock us into the pond."

  "I didn't do it on purpose, you idiot," she gritted out, feeling the water soak through the calico material of her dress.

  He sat up in the water, spitting and cursing, grabbing for his hat before he pitched it onto the bank. "You damn-fool woman!"

  Without a second thought, she reached into the mud, grabbed a handful of muck and threw it at him, hitting him smack in the front of his shirt.

  His eyes widened; his nostrils flared.

  "You deserved it," she challenged, feeling uneasy all of a sudden. Maybe she had acted a little rash. Maybe she should back away for just a moment and give Travis time to cool off.

  A dangerous spark glinted from his dark eyes, and she knew she was too close to him, perilously close to Travis and his anger.

  She tried to scramble away, but her heavy skirt became bogged down in the water.

  His hand, full of mud, landed square on her chest, brushing against her breast and sending a tingle of awareness through her.

  She glanced up at him, prepared to do battle. Suddenly he unleashed on her the full extent of his muddy threat as he covered her in the wet, sandy ooze. The water churned around them as they smeared each other's bodies, lathering each other until there was not a spot of color or a glimpse of skin that remained uncovered with the wet, gritty dirt

  All the pent-up tension from the night before was released as Rose picked up a handful of mud and plastered it to the top of his hair. Laughing, she watched as the mud ran down the back of his head to his neck.

  With a quick tug, her hair fell from its clasp as he retaliated. Her unleashed curls lay floating in the cloudy water.

  Running out of breath, she stopped and glanced at him. He was brown from head to waist, covered in the oozy, slimy mire from the pond. He looked like a giant mud dauber, his brown eyes big and angry. The image was too much, and she started to giggle. The laughter changed and deepened until she was holding her side, laughing at the sight of Travis covered in the brown silt.

  He stopped and stared, his hand still full of ooze, but slowly a gradual smile lightened his face. With a chuckle, he joined in her laughter. "Don't laugh too hard. You look pretty funny yourself."

  The anger of a few moments ago suddenly dispersed as they sat in the murky water staring at one another, cackling loudly, only to be overtaken by a growing sense of awareness.

  Slowly he released the last handful of mire. "How often do you do this sort of thing?"

  She trailed her hand in the water, cleansing the wet earth from between her fingers. She glanced up at him, her face smiling. "This is my first time. What about you?"

  "Not since I was a boy." He reached over and swiped at streak of dirt on her cheek, his fingers brushing against her skin.

  Rose felt his touch like the scorch of the hot summer sun. Her cheek was on fire. She gazed up at Travis, dipped her hand into the water, and slowly rinsed the mud from his face, tenderly wiping away the wet earth.

  "I gue
ss we better clean up before we go back to the house," she said, her voice soft, a warmth filling her. Her anxiety was still there, but it felt different now.

  Travis cleared his throat, his eyes lingering on the front of her dress. "It might take a while to get all this filth off."

  "Hmm. Close your eyes."

  He gazed at her, his eyes almost touching her, as her breathing quickened. Slowly he closed his eyes, and she wanted him to open them, she wanted to look deep within his soul once more. She wanted him to continue touching the very depths of her with his glance.

  She cupped her hands with water, held them over his head and slowly released the water, rinsing his hair.

  He gripped her, his hands strong and firm around her waist. Again, she cupped her hands, letting the water trickle down the front of him.

  Travis opened his eyes, and Rose felt the heat of his gaze. He released her waist, cupped his hands, and filled them with water.

  "Now close your eyes," he said, his voice a husky whisper.

  Rose lowered her lids as he requested, a sense of vulnerability filling her, as she waited for him to repeat the same process she had done to him. Slowly his hands emptied over her head, rinsing the mud from her face and hair. Repeatedly he poured the water over her, until she felt she couldn't take it anymore.

  "I think I got it all," he said, his voice husky, his breathing uneven.

  She opened her eyes and met his gaze, her breathing quickening at the raw, naked desire she saw there.

  Slowly he rose to his feet, his hand reaching out and pulling Rose up out of the water with him. He leaned toward her, and she met him halfway, his lips barely touching hers, before he broke away. It was a tease, a gentle promise of more to come, that left her aching with want.

  His hands reached for the buttons on the front of her dress, and Rose knew she was unable to say no. She didn't want to say no.

  Rose almost quit breathing. Their eyes locked in a not-too-subtle exchange that left no doubt what he was feeling. Her own hands reached up and started to unbutton the front of his shirt, the wetness of her fingers slipping on the wooden buttons. Her nerves caused her hands to shake.

  She was lost to the sensations his touch evoked as he reached inside her opened dress and caressed her breast. She knew there was no turning back, there was no more denying that she hungered for Travis's touch. She wanted to be in his arms.