Breed True (19 page)

That had brought her awake immediately. "You won't be here tonight?" She tried to be casual.

"I can ride back in, if being alone here bothers you." He waited for her answer.

"No, don't worry, we'll be fine." But she was already tense at the notion of being isolated in the cabin. It was foolish, but she had become accustomed to all of the layers of protection that Grady Hawks provided—especially his own presence.

Confined to the cabin by the weather, she worked, keeping the oven going all day to produce baked goods since there was no one to eat a meal. She hulled the last of the fall pecans and made pies.

At the end of the day she was exhausted, the cabin smelled like a bakery and was filled with treats for the ranch hands with no way to deliver them.

She faced the night with trepidation. Bold claims made to Sheriff Potter notwithstanding, she did not know how to shoot a gun, handle a knife as a weapon, or fight like a man.

As soon as she tamped down the fire in the oven, the chill of the wet spring evening seeped through the cabin walls. Shivering, she dragged out the big baby crib that Grady had built for the twins and stationed it in front of the fireplace in the main room.

After she made a pot of coffee and watched the twins toddle and play until they were weaving with tiredness, she bathed them in the tub of water she'd heated, and put them to bed. She would have relished their company but both were fast asleep, leaving her in the eerie quiet of the cabin as rain pelted against the roof.

Julie rocked in the big chair that had materialized shortly after she'd arrived. She was snuggled in a blanket, staring mesmerized at the flames when she was jerked from half-sleep by pounding on the cabin door.

"Who is it?" She wasn't going to lift the plank, unbarring the door, without knowing who stood outside.

"Let me in, Julie." She was enormously relieved to hear Grady's gruff voice. When she swung open the door, he took in her nightgown, the crib in front of the fire, the rocking chair pulled up close, and he smiled.

It was such an unusual expression on his face Julie smiled back. He sniffed the air,

"Sure smells good in here."

Before she could hurry to get supper for him, or pour him a cup of coffee, he pulled her into his arms.

"Hmmmm," he murmured into her hair. "You smell good enough to eat." Moisture from his shirt and pants seeped into her nightgown as she stood in the circle of his arms.

When she shivered, he pulled the blanket tighter around her and stepped back, releasing her. "Sorry. Forgot I was all wet."

Unexpected feelings of tenderness welled up in her throat. Julie took the blanket from her shoulders and wrapped it around his. "I don't want you getting sick. You work too hard and don't take care of yourself."

When she would have stepped away again, he pulled her close inside the cocoon of the blanket. "You should get out of those wet clothes," she whispered, trembling, but not from cold.

"I think you need to get out of that damp nightgown too," he murmured, walking toward the fire without releasing her. He stopped by the crib where Amy snored softly at one end and Emma smiled in her dreams at the other.

She grasped the hem of his shirt and pulled it up and over his head. He untied the ribbon on her nightgown and pushed it off her shoulders to fall at their feet. And then he kissed her.

His lips settled gently over hers, asking without words. She opened for him, and his tongue explored her mouth. A moan escaped her throat as she felt the brush of his hot skin against her breasts.

She liked the feel of his callused hands, thumbs circling her nipples erotically as he continued to plunder her mouth.

"I want you, Julie—want me too." He used the words that always inflamed her.

*

Grady lowered Julie to the blanket, covering her with his body. Both of them fumbled at his waistband, freeing him quickly from his pants. His cock was hard and ached to sink into her sheath, but tonight, he wanted more, he wanted her to need him as much as he hungered for her.

He buried his face in the crease between her neck and shoulder, breathing the scent of skin perfumed with the aroma of cookies, as he nuzzled his way to her ear, murmuring his pleasure. He pulled loose the leather thong that bound her hair, and then, conscious of the hard floor under her, he rolled on his back, pulling her on top of him.

The silken strands of red fire caressed his chest as she sat up. "Ride me," he ordered.

Before she could think, or lose the passion he'd unexpectedly ignited, his lips closed over her nipple, making her arch into his suckling attentions.

He held her, one hand on her hip, urging her forward, the other pulling and tweaking her other nipple. She clasped his head and stroked his hair as he pleasured her with his mouth.

His cock stood tall, a pillar of iron ready to melt in her internal heat, and when she centered herself and slid down, taking him into her body, they both sighed thankfully.

"Yes." Her eyes were closed; her hair curtained them as she rode his thrusts and tilted her pelvis to take him deeper than he'd ever been.

She was wet and ready for him. His cock ground against her mound as her internal muscles gripped him, demanding more. Her knees straddled his body, as she swiveled her hips and thrust back. "Please," a whispered plea escaped her lips, asking him for relief.

He slid his hand between them and stroked her pearl. Lightning forked through her body, her muscles spasmed, squeezing his shaft as her climax caught him and carried him along too. In a straining mass of tangled limbs, they soared together and collapsed as one.

Grady petted her back, smoothing his hand up and down as aftershocks pulsed through both of them. He didn't want to move—ever.

Her head rested against his shoulder; his cock, unwilling to stop the delight even now, twitched inside of her, reveling in the slide of soft heat that enveloped him.

When she lifted her head, her expression was grim. "That wasn't supposed to happen."

"Why? Why withhold pleasure from coupling when we have it so many other ways?"

Her truculent expression accompanied the shake of her head.

"It's best not to have feelings for you." Her lips were firmed in an almost frown, and her eyes were brimming with tears ready to overflow.

Grady didn't let the moment pass.
Talk to your woman.
The words of Dan Two-Horse resonated in his mind. "I already have feelings for you. I hoped you would grow to have them for me."

She peered down at him and then touched his chin, lifting it so she could study his expression. "You do?" Grady held still while she explored his face with the tip of her finger, as though reading his soul. "Does that mean you want me for more than a year?"

"Forever." He held her gaze and waited.

She didn't give him back words, but settled him deeper inside of her, bending to claim his lips. When she ended the kiss, she smiled. "Maybe we could do that again." His cock surged to full strength inside of her. He never had enough of her, and tonight she matched his need with equal fire, her sheath burning his cock as she held him inside with want, not duty.

He turned so that she lay under him. "Again?" he asked.

Her shy nod and flushed cheeks were all the encouragement he needed. Hours later, passion sated at last, they lay quietly before the burning embers in the fireplace. He cushioned her body with his, turning so that he held her in his arms, her head resting against his shoulder.

There was so much he wanted to say to her, but in the afterglow of their first true lovemaking, he hid behind whispered words in the language of his mother—words that Julie didn't know.

You are my woman. I will walk beside you all of our lives. Let me be your man. Let
me be your life.

While she slept easy, spooned against his side, relaxed in his keeping, he thought about her. He realized he no longer cared what she'd been or done before she married him.

He smiled and nuzzled her hair, inhaling his scent mixed with hers. It had taken him less than an hour to maneuver her into being his wife, but almost six months to claim her as his woman.

His thoughts were confirmed when she opened her eyes, looked into his, and blushed.
This beautiful woman is mine
. Fascinated he watched the pink flush wash over her, staining her body and face with a bright rose color.

She reached for her nightgown, straining away from his embrace to grab it. It was the same tattered gown she'd worn since the first night, and it suddenly offended him greatly.

Before she could rescue it, he threw in on the fire, where it disappeared in a burst of flame.

"Put my shirt on. I like the way you look wearing my clothes." He put his red shirt, which he knew she was partial to, over her shoulders and watched as she pulled her hair free of the collar and then buttoned it closed.

Reluctantly, he stood and pulled on his pants. She busied herself tidying the blankets and checking the twins, although they still slept and gave her no one to hide behind.

When she started to withdraw into herself, Grady knew he had to forge a connection stronger than the passion they'd just shared. He looked out the window marshaling his thoughts.

"Tell me," he invited. "Tell me how Julie Fulton, from a small farm back East, ended up married to a no-good crook like Frank Rossiter."

He thought that was a safe way to start a conversation since there was no disputing that her deceased husband had been among the lower forms of life.

Julie sighed. "When I was just eighteen," she began her story, "and full of myself…"

she flashed Grady a smile so filled with mischief that he could see the girl chasing womanhood.

"…I met Frank Rossiter at an ice cream social. I ignored my mother's warning and latched on to the best-dressed man there when he asked me to dance."

Grady wondered why he'd ever thought her features hard and then realized how much she had changed since she'd come to Hawks Nest.

"My mother was recently remarried. Her new husband had a way of looking at me that made me uncomfortable. Without being vain—I know men stare—and being young and foolish, I enjoyed it then."

She said the last regretfully and then explained. "When it was my stepfather ogling it wasn't fun anymore. Mama wanted me out. She told me to choose a man and get my own home."

She was so pretty it didn't surprise Grady that men had been lined up, looking, although he felt possessive stirrings when he thought about it.

"There were plenty of farmers I could have married," Julie admitted. "But I didn't want a man who smelled of pig manure or hayfields. I didn't know the sweet-smelling stranger who came courting was a gambler. And my mother didn't approve of him, but wanted me out of the house worse, so I ran off with him."

Grady listened to the familiar story of a con artist fleecing a mark—and no doubt Rossiter had seen the young Julie as easy pickings. She'd owned a little land inherited from her grandmother. "Sixty acres," Julie admitted. "A farmhouse and outbuildings that needed work. I thought I was too good for that." Her laugh was filled with self scorn.

"I thought I was being smart to insist on marriage. I didn't realize…"

That pretty much described the whole affair. Frank Rossiter had married her before one of the locals could intervene, whisked her away from everyone who could have helped, and sold the farm quickly after.

"He told me that I looked like a rube, and I embarrassed him. So one of the first things he bought with my money was a new wardrobe for me." He reached over to stroke her hair, tousled from their lovemaking.

"That was some wardrobe. I went from cotton pantalettes and prim shirtwaists to cheap silks and satins. Even I knew that wasn't how decent women dressed. But Frank had a purpose in his choices."

He wished he hadn't asked. She stood up wearing his shirt and nothing else, and frowned down at him

"I was not a whore. You understand that, don't you?" She stated it unequivocally.

"Frank had intentions from the first. But when I could have gotten away and gone home, my damned pride kept me there. And at first, stupid kid that I was, I liked the fancy dresses cut too low. By the time I realized what Frank had in mind, I'd lost control of the money and everything else."

Grady had no doubt of that. Rossiter had been an expert.

She shivered, hugging his shirt tighter around her as bad memories disturbed the aftermath of their lovemaking. "Come over here," Grady told her.

Julie hesitated and then stepped into his arms. He picked her up, wrapping the discarded blanket around her, as he settled them into the rocking chair.

The rest of the story unfolded, sordid and sad. Rossiter had turned her into a partner in con games. He'd said she needed a new name—Jewel. He'd told her it would be like her stage name.

Julie rubbed her cheek against his chest, seeking warmth and reassurance. "By that time," she confessed, "I was more than happy to call myself something different. I didn't want anyone to ever know that Julie Fulton had been brought so low."

The rest of the story was a tale of Frank's violent rages and the fists he'd applied liberally.

"By the second week, I was ready to leave him. I didn't love Frank Rossiter when I married him. I didn't even know him. But I thought love would grow. I thought he did me a favor by getting me away from the small-minded community I despised. I thought if I did what he asked and tried to please him in every way, things would settle down between us."

Grady could barely hear her final whisper. "I was wrong."

Chapter Sixteen

If it was one thing Julie didn't want to talk about, it was her life with Frank Rossiter or what she had done while married to him. But she had been a coward to keep her silence this long.

"Frank was invited to a party." She knew her body had tensed, remembering, but she needed to tell Grady before she lost her nerve.

"We'd been invited to what was supposed to be a friendly poker game held in Teddy James' rooms above the Golden Eagle Saloon. He said Alan Michaels was entertaining bankers from Philadelphia, and it would be easy money for Frank to pick up."