Cassandra Austin (18 page)

He was sitting up waiting for her. He had untangled the blanket, and, as she slipped back in beside him, he covered them both. “You shouldn’t stay here all night,” he said, even as he pulled her down beside him, cradling her in his arm.

“I’ll go back early,” she whispered. “If someone catches me I’ve just made a trip to the outhouse.”

“And if you’re caught leaving the barn?” She heard the smile in his voice.

“I heard a sound and came to investigate. But it was just Tyrant, I suppose.” She yawned and snuggled closer.

He chuckled and stroked her hair until she fell asleep.

Christian woke sometime between midnight and dawn. He didn’t want Lynnette to risk being discovered, but he put off waking her for a few minutes, enjoying the feel of her in his arms. She was proof that last night hadn’t been another dream.

When he felt himself responding to her nearness, he
threw the blanket off himself and slipped his arm out from under her. He was wedged between her and the wall but managed to climb out by the foot of the bed. Lynnette immediately sighed and stretched out in the space he had vacated.

Moonlight streaming through the small window led him to the pile of clothes on the floor. He dressed quickly, then lit the lantern. Lynnette groaned, pulling the blanket over her face.

He laughed and went to sit beside her. “You better go back, sweetheart.”

“What time is it?”

“I don’t know. A couple hours before dawn, I think.”

“Good. We have a couple hours.” She rolled over and tried to pull him into bed.

He gave her a quick kiss, then pulled her arms from around his neck. “Martha gets up before dawn to start breakfast, anyway. This is Sunday, so she’ll be even earlier. And I don’t know exactly what time it is.”

She frowned but relented. She threw the blanket off, and he stood to let her rise. She seemed unashamed of her nakedness, an observation that pleased him. She bent to retrieve the nightgown from the floor, and he admired her feminine hips and rounded bottom until the gown slid down and hid them.

She struggled to pull her thick hair out of the neckline. As she tied the front of the gown, he found the ribbon he had pulled from her hair the night before. “Come here,” he said, holding it toward her. “Let me fix your hair.”

She turned to him, anticipation evident in her eyes
even in the dim light. She came toward him slowly and knelt on the floor in front of him. He lifted the heavy tresses onto his lap and worked the tangles loose from the bottom upward. Finally, he could rub his fingers over her scalp and slide them down through her hair to where the ends curled around his fingers.

He plaited her hair the same way he did Emily’s, but it was a totally different experience. Instead of thinking of a little girl who was growing up too fast, he thought of a woman he wanted as his own. He wanted to do this every night before they slept. He wanted to find a way to make that possible.

“When I watched you braid your sister’s hair,” she said, breaking into his thoughts. “I pretended it was mine. Even when I was sitting next to Arlen.”

“Please don’t feel guilty for falling in love with me.” His own guilt was hard enough to bear.

“It happened so fast,” she said. She made a choking sound, and he suspected she was crying.

“We fell in love because we were meant to be together.”

She shook her head, but he was used to Emily’s sudden moves and kept from pulling her hair. “I’m grateful to Arlen,” he said evenly. “I would never have met you if it wasn’t for him. I plan to take whatever you’ll give me for however long. And I don’t plan to give up on forever.”

He tied off the braid and slid to the floor, taking her in his arms. “Don’t cry,” he whispered. “We can talk about this later. Promise you’ll come to me tonight?”

She nodded, swiping at her tears. “Tonight and
every night until I have to—” She choked, then visibly pulled herself together. “Leave,” she finished.

He helped her to her feet and put the robe around her shoulders. When she had tied it securely around her narrow waist he pulled her back into his arms for a lingering kiss. “Please,” he whispered, resting his forehead against hers. “Don’t spend the day crying. Spend it looking forward to tonight.”

She gave him a small sad smile and nodded.

Carrying the lantern, he walked with her to the door. He put out the light, afraid someone would see them together, kissed her one more time and opened the door. He stood in the shadows and watched her hurry to the house. She turned once, and he stepped into the moonlight so she could see that he had waited.

Then she was inside, closing the door behind her. He had let her go, but only for today. He would think of a way they could be together.

Lynnette pleaded a headache and asked to be excused from church. She hadn’t stayed in her room long after leaving Christian, but had gone down to help Martha with the lunch. As she worked, she imagined Hugh introducing her to the neighbors as Arlen’s intended bride. It seemed an even worse prospect now than it had the week before. She had prayed for another road-soaking rain, but to no avail.

Now she stood just inside the balcony doors, watching the party pull out of the yard. Perry was in the wagon with the women. The other three men were on horseback, Christian waiting in the rear. He glanced
up at her window before following the others out of the yard.

She left the door open to the morning breeze and moved to her bed, sinking into it. She couldn’t regret last night, no matter how much she thought she should. She wished Christian didn’t hold out hope for a future together. He was only going to be hurt worse. Still, she had to love him all the more for it.

She rose and crossed to the desk, looking down at the letter she had begun to Amanda. The torn letter from her friend lay beside it, a reminder of Taggart.

She had been filled with panic when she had first read the letters. Now it seemed a little foolish. It was one thing to write a letter, even a threatening one, and quite another to take off across country searching for a ranch hidden in the Flint Hills. Surely when he received no answer to his nasty little letters he would give up.

She had convinced herself that she had overreacted when the sound of hoofbeats on packed earth made her freeze. And made her conscious of how alone she was.

“Taggart?” she breathed. She had to know. She crept to the door, trying to keep herself hidden. She peered out just as the horse and rider came into view below. The horse was dun and the rider was Christian.

She nearly collapsed with relief. She stepped out onto the balcony and hailed him. He reined in the mare and waved.

“What are you doing back?” she called.

“My horse was starting to go lame,” he answered.
He was too cheerful for such sorry news. “Really?” she asked.

“No.”

She laughed and turned, hurrying from the room. He was just uncinching the saddle when she ran into the barn. He caught her in his arms and swung her around, laughing. When he settled her back on the ground he sobered. “Your headache. I forgot.”

She laughed. “I heal as quickly as your horse.”

“You’re sure? I thought you looked pale at breakfast.”

“Martha mentioned it, too,” she said. “I was just worried how I would survive my introduction to the neighborhood as Arlen’s future wife.”

He nodded. “Let me take care of the mare, then we can talk.”

She stood back and watched him work, watched the muscles play across his shoulders as he lifted the saddle, watched the grace of his movements as he rubbed down the horse. She would have asked to help him, but she remembered him saying that the mare might bite. Before he left the stall, he wrapped one of the horse’s ankles. “Miracle cure,” he said, winking.

“I feel so wicked,” she said, grinning at him.

“I like the sound of that.” He took her hand, and they left the barn. When Lynnette would have gone toward the house, he steered her toward the rock bench under the cottonwood tree. “Sit down,” he said. “We need to talk.”

She did as he bade her thinking how handsome he looked in his Sunday suit. She hoped she would get a chance to take it off.

“I want you to marry me, Lynnette,” he announced.

She sighed. “You know I can’t.”

He knelt in front of her. “I know no such thing.”

She placed one palm against his freshly shaved cheek. He turned his head and kissed her wrist. “Just imagine it,” she said. “This is still Arlen’s home. How will he feel every time he sees us together?”

“He’ll find someone else,” Christian insisted.

“Of course. Someone who really is right for him. But by then his relationship with you will be ruined. I know you don’t want that. You love your brother.”

“I love Arlen, but I love you more.”

The anguish on his face tore at her heart. “Please try to understand,” she said gently. “I’ll hurt Arlen when I tell him I don’t love him. But I must do it. To tell him that I love his brother instead, would be too much. There’s the election—”

“When it’s over?”

“I’ll be gone.”

He looked at her for a long time, and she felt her heart crumbling. “I’ll find you,” he whispered.

She shook her head. She couldn’t tell anyone where she went because of Taggart. Suddenly she had a vision of Christian trying to protect her from a madman. No, leaving was for the best. She couldn’t put him in danger.

“I’ll go with you,” he said more firmly. “I’ll give Arlen my share of the ranch, and we’ll leave together.”

Lynnette was speechless. He was offering to give up everything for her. It was more than she could ask
of him. In time he would regret it. She shook her head. “Let’s not talk any more about it. Please.”

He looked about to protest but rose instead, pulling her to her feet. “Let’s not spend the morning arguing.”

She smiled, turning her face up to his. “I’m sure we can think of a better way to spend the time.” They started toward the house with their arms around each other.

“I was thinking about a soft bed, large enough for the both of us,” he said.

“I know where to find one. See the balcony on the left?”

He frowned. “The one on the right,” he suggested. “That’s still Arlen’s room to me.”

“See. It does bother you,” she said.

Lynnette was right, of course. Christian couldn’t quite get past the notion that he was betraying his brother. He reminded himself that Lynnette did not love Arlen and had no intention of marrying Arlen. But at this moment, while he led Lynnette up the stairs, Arlen didn’t know that.

Once inside his room, she came into his arms. Her soft body calling sweetly to his, her lips begging for his kiss, made him forget everything else. After a deep kiss that fed his hunger more than satisfied it, he slowly removed her clothes, peeling away the layers until her beautiful body was exposed to his view.

He stood back to enjoy it, letting his eyes linger on every curve. He saw her tremble and moved to enfold
her in his arms. She was warm and pliant, trembling with desire instead of cold.

“My turn,” she whispered after another heated kiss. She slid her hands along his shoulders, dislodging his dress coat. He shrugged it off, letting it drop to the floor. He tried to gather her close again, but she moved away enough to reach his tie. “You look very dashing in your Sunday best,” she said, slipping the knot loose.

“I consider that a great compliment, coming from such an expert on men’s fashion.”

She quirked an eyebrow at him. “What gave you that impression?”

He grinned at her. He didn’t move to help her with the collar buttons but grazed his hands over the smooth curve of her waist and hips instead. “Your book has quite a few references to your hero’s dress.”

“Description only,” she said, appearing to concentrate on her task.

“I have wondered if you started the little discussion with the girls about men’s clothes.”

She shook her head. “My main contribution was to defend the close-fitting pants and loose shirts of the cowboy.”

He laughed. “And why was that?”

She left the tie hanging loose and started on the button at his throat. “The pants, of course, because of the way they fit,” she said.

“How wicked of you ladies. Especially since you hide everything from us.” He cupped her bottom and brought her closer against him, pressing his arousal against her flat stomach.

“And the shirt,” she murmured, a little breathlessly, “because you leave it open here.” Her mouth found the hollow of his throat and trailed downward as she undid each button. He groaned as a new wave of desire washed over him.

When her lips were stopped by the waistline of his pants, he stepped away, divesting himself of the rest of his clothing. He scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed as he had the night before. This time he nearly flung her onto the larger softer mattress. “Don’t try my patience, woman,” he growled.

She chuckled deep in her throat, holding her arms out to him. “What patience?”

He slid in beside her, pulling her against him. “Ah, sweet Lynnette. With you I have no patience, no willpower, not even reason.” His hands turned gentle, and he stroked her hair. “I feel the most tender love and greediest lust all at once.”

She moved to bring her face near his. “I love you, too, Christian. And I want you.” Her mouth touched his, and he let her nip and lick at his lips for a moment before turning her to her back and branding her with his kiss.

He loved her slowly, exploring every inch of her precious body and encouraging her to explore his. The sunlight filtering through the curtains made a soft light, casting a dreamlike aura over them. It was at least as wonderful as the night before, but Christian couldn’t help but think of what more there could be. If she truly belonged to him, he could lose himself deep inside her softness. But he kept the longing firmly in check.

When their damp, spent bodies began to feel the
chill of the room, Christian rose, found a blanket that had fallen to the floor and spread it over Lynnette.

She gave him a seductive smile, “Do we have to get up?”

He shook his head. “Don’t see why.” She raised the cover, and he crawled in with her again.