Cowboy Come Home (16 page)
Authors: Janette Kenny
Trey suspected the latter. Torching the JDB was nothing more than revenge against Daisy. He’d already conned her out of countless head of cattle. Nothing was left for Ned to gain.
It made his own quest for vengeance seem small and mean. Hell, what was the point now?
She’d lost damned near everything. Because he’d trusted Barton, he’d lost all the money he’d saved back.
For once he and Daisy were in the same fix. They needed each other to survive.
Considering who she was and what they’d done, it was damned near a given that he couldn’t leave her. He’d surely sever all ties forever with Dade if he didn’t make things right by Daisy. But hadn’t he done that already?
Nope, whatever happened here had to be because he and Daisy wanted it. Nobody else mattered. Not Barton. Not Dade. Not any law.
They’d have to find a way to make this work. For now he’d mull on it. When they got back to the Circle 46, he’d have a long talk with her.
He trudged from the pen and up the slope to the adobe, anxious to get back to it. Back to Daisy. No sense denying it.
The sun pounded his back as if trying to fry his skin through his clothes. He wouldn’t be surprised if it could.
Inside the adobe, Daisy hadn’t moved from when he’d left her. But her eyes were mostly open now. Open and wary.
“Feeling better?” he asked.
Her small hands fluttered over her belly, as if unsure what to shield from his eyes. “Some. My head still hurts.”
“It will for a while. Need to get water in you now.”
“I’m parched.” She grasped the canteen he handed her and took a greedy drink.
He pulled the canteen away from her mouth. “Just sip at it. You drink too much and it’ll come right back up.”
She nodded and did as he said, then passed the canteen to him. He too wanted to guzzle it, but he went slow, letting the water trickle down his parched throat. A man appreciated water more this way.
“How are the horses?” she asked.
“I put them in the pen where we’d kept the bull,” he said and cracked a smile. “That old mesquite doesn’t cast much shade, but it beats standing out in a full sun.”
A smile trembled on her mouth. “When it was hot, that bull wouldn’t move away from that tree.”
Food, water, and shade. Creature comforts.
He took the dry cloth from her forehead and noted the worst of the red was fading now. “Still hot?”
“Inside and out.”
“It’ll take a bit to get the heat out of you.”
He went through the ritual of soaking her handkerchief and his bandana again, staring at his hands instead of her lying there in barely anything. She had no idea just how inviting she was to him.
“Tell me about Dade,” she said.
He wrung the cloths out and frowned, thinking it was mighty strange for her to be asking him about her brother. But then he’d known Dade far longer and had been as close to him as any blood kin could be. Closer as far as Trey was concerned.
“What do you want to know?” he asked as he draped the bandana over her chest then laid the other on her forehead.
Her eyelids fluttered shut on a sigh. She didn’t say anything for so long he thought she’d dozed off.
“What kind of man is he?” she asked.
He grabbed his bedroll and knelt in the corner to lay it out, giving him time to pull his thoughts of Dade together. “He’s a good man. Reckon a good bit of that came from Kirby taking us in and teaching us right from wrong.”
A good deal came from Dade’s disgust over his old man being an outlaw. He’d always cringe when news of the Logan Gang reached the ranch.
“I’m glad,” she said.
So was he, though he hadn’t always been that way.
He’d been mighty jealous that Dade and Reid had a tie to family. Didn’t matter that their families weren’t worth two hoops in hell. They knew who they were.
They knew their damned names.
Trey shook off the old resentment that had dogged him most of his life and settled back on the bedroll, drawing one bent leg up and hanging his wrist over his knee.
It felt good to rest his back against the cool adobe walls. Felt good to relax here with Daisy, sharing sparse talk. Sharing the same air.
It had taken a whole year for him to feel that kind of contentment on the Crown Seven. He’d always been expecting to get tossed out on his ear. For the whole dream of having a makeshift family to fall apart on him.
Damned if it didn’t happen when he least expected it.
“I suppose he’s a rancher too,” she said, breaking the silence.
“That’s what we were growing up, but Dade always talked about having a farm. Maybe run a few head of cattle too.”
She wrinkled her pert nose. “A sodbuster.”
“You sound like Barton.”
“That’s all I know,” she said. “All I remember.”
They’d never talked much before, but then the stolen moments they’d had were spent in each other’s arms. Yep, they hadn’t talked much at all, at least not about things that mattered.
“What about you, Daisy? Are you going to keep both ranches?”
Her deep sigh filled the silence. “I don’t know if I can.”
An honest answer and one he admired her for making. “You don’t have to do it alone.”
Her eyes popped open at that, wide and searching his across the room. “Who’s going to stand by me? Dade? Because if you’re insinuating that he’ll come in and take over for me ...”
“I didn’t mean that at all.” Damn, he was handling this badly again.
He shifted on the bedroll, feeling suddenly big and clumsy and unsure of himself around her. “Dade can’t take over anything unless you let him.”
“But he’ll try.”
He bit off a curse and got to his feet. “Both ranches are yours, Daisy. You can do whatever the hell you want with them. Sell out. Hire a foreman to manage for you.” His gaze caught and held hers. “You could marry and work with your husband to run both spreads.”
She sat up a bit straighter in the chair, the handkerchief and bandana falling into her lap. “You want to buy the Circle 46. Is that it?”
He shifted from one foot to the other. “It’s no secret I want the land. But I want you too.”
“Are you angling to marry me because you want to get your hands on the land?” Her eyes bored into his, as if searching his soul. “Or do you love me?”
He sure couldn’t admit to the first without looking like a money-grubber. And he damned sure wouldn’t lie about the second.
“We were good together, Daisy.”
She jerked her head away like he’d insulted her and crossed her arms over her breasts. Dammit, he couldn’t understand how her mind worked.
“That’s not the same as love,” she said.
No, it wasn’t. But it was the best he could give her. The best he could give anyone.
He took the discarded bandana and handkerchief and wet them again. She curled back against the chair, eyes closed. Shutting him out.
He felt the distancing as sharply as when he’d been laid up in El Paso. Without a word, he draped the cooling cloths on her then strode over to his saddlebags.
“I’ve got a can of beans and one of tomatoes. Not much in the way of dinner—”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You should eat something.”
She didn’t answer. Fine.
He’d fill his own void and settle in for the night. But the food didn’t sit well in his gut and neither did the silence pulsing in the adobe.
It promised to be a damned long night.
Daisy laid her hands on her stomach and suffered through another cramp. Her body was wrapped in pain, her insides twisting.
There is nothing we can do to stop it,
Ramona had told her.
Ramona had told her.
She was losing the baby. The fall had been too much.
Silent tears streamed down her cheeks and the pain ... Oh, God, she ached for the loss. For the death of the one thing that still tied her to Trey.
Gone. All gone.
“Daisy! What’s wrong?”
“It hurts,” she said, caught between dream and reality since he’d not come before. “I’m sorry.”
“You’ve nothing to be sorry for,” he said and gently pulled her against him.
She fit against him so well. Her palms splayed on his chest, so muscular and bare. Just like she remembered from the time in the hayloft. Just them together. Only they lost the baby.
The tears fell faster now, even though the cramping in her stomach had eased.
“Daisy, wake up!”
She did with a start and blinked, confused to see Trey here before she realized she’d confused her nightmare with reality. She’d relived the agony of losing her baby too many times, but this time she wasn’t imagining his arms around her. Holding her. Comforting her. He was really here.
My God, had she talked in her sleep? Could he know?
“You were having a nightmare,” he said, no censure in his voice.
She nodded woodenly. He didn’t know. Her secret was still safe. Still her grief to hold close to her heart until she knew what was in his.
The velvet night wrapped around them like a protective cocoon. She breathed in his scent. Felt the tension stiffening his muscles as he pulled back from her.
“What’s hurting?” he asked, and she was glad he couldn’t read the truth that must surely be reflected in her eyes.
Her heart. God, her heart ached for what they’d lost. What he couldn’t give her then and wouldn’t give her now.
Oh, he’d marry her. But there’d be no love.
She’d be nothing more than his lover. And God, she even craved that with a hunger that should have shamed her.
“My stomach cramped some,” she said.
The sudden stabs of pain had been just enough to plague her mind in sleep and stir awake memories that wouldn’t die. Just enough to make her relive that nightmare again, making it seem too real this time.
“It’s the heat,” he said, one big hand moving slowly up and down her back, comforting her, rousing other memories that were just as strong as her grief. “You need to take in a bit more water.”
She nodded and sipped at the canteen he handed her, knowing he was right. But she also admitted that what she wanted was right here holding her. That she wanted to feel that deep connection to him again.
That she loved him still.
Nothing was stopping her from taking what she desired most. Nothing but her pride.
Chapter 14
Daisy cupped his jaw and leaned close, her own eyes drifting shut. She pressed a light kiss at the corner of his mouth. Another on his chin. Then beneath it.
“I’ve missed you,” she said, her voice so soft it was nearly a sigh on the wind.
Her mind registered his quick, indrawn breath, the stilling of his hands on her back. “Daisy?”
She didn’t want to talk. Didn’t want to admit that she wanted this. Needed this. It made no sense after the cold-shoulder she’d given him.
Her desire for him was stronger than her pride. Stronger than reason.
“We have nothing to lose,” she said against his lips.
His only response was the slightest tremor shaking his big body. “Dade would nail my hide on the barn if he knew I’d taken you before. That I’d come back and fallen into your bed again.”
“I don’t care what he thinks,” she said. “He’s my brother, not my keeper.”
“He might not see it that way.”
“Then he’s in for a surprise.” She rested her forehead against his and breathed in his scent, taking him deep into her lungs as she longed to do with her body.
She felt his smile beneath her fingertips, brief and a bit crooked. An endearing smile that made her feel special because it was so rare with him.
“What am I going to do with you?” he asked.
Love me!
She bit back the words because she didn’t want anything to shatter the moment, but the truth sang in her heart.
She bit back the words because she didn’t want anything to shatter the moment, but the truth sang in her heart.
The first time she’d laid eyes on him, she’d fallen a bit in love. He was different than any man she’d ever met. Aloof. A drifter who made no apology for what he was.
She had so little experience with men, but she knew when she exchanged a shy glance with Trey that he wouldn’t be a gentleman. He wouldn’t stop at a few stolen kisses for fear her daddy would catch them.
Like Kurt, who never went a step beyond propriety, even though they were engaged to marry. She’d tried to feel something deep for him, but it wasn’t there. She knew it never would be.
But Trey March was the forbidden. He didn’t fawn over her. He made her come to him. And when she did, he didn’t shy away from showing her the pleasure to be found in a man’s arms.
“All my life I’ve bowed to a man’s orders,” she said, grazing his lips once, twice. “No more.”
She settled her mouth over his, explored the seductive curve of his lips as she dragged her fingertips over the rasp of today’s whiskers. He hadn’t given anything of himself yet, just remained kneeling in front of the chair. But she sensed the tension rippling under his skin, felt his body shudder when she slipped her tongue under his upper lip.
The same tremor rocked her as she sucked on his mouth, his chin. Her secret lay between them like a sore. She should tell him. Tell him now and get it over with. And if he pulled away from her? If he denied her this moment’s passion?
She pulled back and damned the fact she couldn’t see his face in the darkness. But maybe that was better. Then she wouldn’t see the emotions in his eyes.
“We’ve been through hell together,” she began.
A deep groan tore from him. His arms banded around her and he pulled her flush against him.
“I can show you heaven, Daisy. I did before and I can again,” he said, shoving her chemise up to bare her breasts to him. “If you want me.”
If she wanted him? “Of course I do,” she said, trailing gentle fingers down the steely line of his jaw. “But after you left I found out ...”
The words died in her throat as his mouth closed over one breast and suckled hard. Her back bowed and her fingers threaded through his hair, holding him, holding words back that had no place here.
She couldn’t let anything interfere with this moment, not when she’d relived it countless times. She’d convinced herself that the memory was better than reality, but she had been wrong.
She could almost convince herself that he cared deeply for her. Loved her. But he didn’t.
Don’t think about it.
Just feel.
Just feel.
Don’t spoil the moment with the truth, for nothing can be gained by it now. It didn’t matter how it happened. Whose fault it was. It was over. Over.
“So good, so good,” she said as the pressure inside her built until she thought her skin would split.
“It gets better,” he said, his fingers tugging her drawers down and his mouth following.
Her skin burned but from a different fire than before. He grasped her bare hips and pulled her forward.
His palms skimmed up her bared legs to the place that wept for his possession. “We’ve never done this in the dark.”
No, it’d always been light or twilight, stolen moments when she sneaked to the barn, when her daddy was busy or away. She’d been embarrassed to tears the first time, but the intense pleasure overrode modesty.
And then he was kissing her there, his tongue a blade of fire that shot heat through her. Her back bowed and her hands dropped to his shoulders, her fingers digging in tight. If she lost her hold on him, she might splinter off into the sky.
Each thrust of his tongue and intimate stroke of his fingers pushed her to the pinnacle, a bright orb that was warm and welcoming and promised an end to her confusion, her turmoil.
He’d taught her this, made her mourn the loss of him, this wickedly intimate closeness. In this she surrendered to him.
The admission struck like lightning and was gone, for she simply couldn’t think any longer. Just feel his incredible mouth and fingers playing her.
She arched her back, desperate to get closer, to touch his heart as he had hers. Brilliant lights flared behind her eyes as she drifted upward on a tight, hot spiral. Her entire body convulsed in delicious release.
His name exploded from her, her fingers clutching at him, trying to pull him closer. She held on, for it had never been this intense before.
Strong arms banded around her and crushed her to his bare chest as she surrendered to the last tremors of her release. This press of bare skin to bare skin was what she’d dreamed about, what she wanted.
He dropped backward, falling onto the bedroll, taking her down with him. She sprawled on top of him, her mouth seeking his in a kiss that went on and on until they both gasped for breath.
“Now I have you where I want you,” she said between kisses, as her hands skimmed down his slick chest to the buttons on his jeans.
“Want me how?” he asked in a lazy drawl that made her smile. “Naked? On my back?”
“Yes.” She slipped open the first button with ease, then fumbled a bit on the second.
“Yes!”
“Yes!”
He groaned and stiffened. “Easy, darlin’. I’m full to bursting from wanting you.”
She smiled at that and pressed a kiss on his throat before levering herself up to straddle him. She scraped her fingernails down his chest and under his waistband.
“I’ll be gentle with you,” she said.
That dredged a chuckle from him until her knuckles brushed against his arousal. The ache deep inside her doubled, making her tremble.
It’d be easy to let him have his way now. To make love with him and end this torture.
But this was her chance to do what she’d been too shy to do before. To make him yield to her. To be the aggressor. To force him to surrender his body to her even though he kept his heart locked.
She couldn’t think about that now, for it would only cast a pall over this moment with him. She’d waited too long for him to return. To have him like this again.
“You taste good,” she said as she dropped kisses on his hard nipples, making his breath hiss between his teeth. She shimmied down his body, kissing him, reveling in his salty taste. “Shuck your jeans, cowboy.”
He lifted his hips and gave them a shove. She rocked back on her heels and pulled them and his drawers down his long legs.
She pushed the clothes aside and ran her hands up his calves sprinkled with crisp hair, wishing again it wasn’t so dark. Not that she needed light.
She knew the hair was black. Knew it grew sparse on his chest and arrowed down to a thatch at his groin.
Her palms skimmed up the insides of his thighs, hesitating as she felt the ridge of scars that hadn’t been there before. The torture of being dragged, she reasoned, sliding up his long, powerful legs, fitting between his thighs, hoping this would take away his pain.
She’d known what to expect when they’d made love the first time, for she’d found a book of her mother’s and read it cover to cover. But the author of
Eve’s Daughter
warned that sex was for procreation. That seeking orgasms would lead to a nervous disorder.
Eve’s Daughter
warned that sex was for procreation. That seeking orgasms would lead to a nervous disorder.
The book was too vague and full of misconceptions to be any further use to her. So she was only going on instinct here. Instinct and strong desire.
“If I do something wrong—”
“You know there is no right or wrong in this,” he said, his voice thick now. “But you don’t have to do this.”
“I want to.” And before he could talk her out of it, she took him in hand and guided him to her mouth.
Her hands stroked down his hardened length and found the soft sack. She cupped it gently with one hand, stroking it with her thumb.
Her tongue laved the tip of his shaft, marveling at the velvety folds that became more rigid in her hands. The salty essence of him that left her thirsting for more.
He sucked in a sharp breath and bucked. “Good God, woman, you’ll be the death of me yet. But I couldn’t think of a better way to die.”
She understood that completely, for when he’d loved her with his mouth, she’d thought she’d splinter apart from the overwhelming pleasure exploding in her.
That’s what she wanted him to feel. That this moment with her was special. That if he looked deep enough within his heart he’d find that he loved her.
“I can’t take any more,” he rasped, trying to pull her back up his chest.
But she held tight, emboldened by the power she had over this strong man who always held a part of himself back. She was determined to expose him, to get him to let down his guard if only this once.
She felt his body tense even more, felt a tremor rip through him, and gained satisfaction knowing she’d given him this. His fingers tightened in her hair, holding her to him, clinging like she had when she feared she’d be flung into the sky beyond the stars.
She took him in, surprised at the workings of his body as well. Her heart warmed, for in that spate of time when he was caught in his climax, she held him in her arms, protecting him, loving him.
When it was over and his big body relaxed, she kissed her way up his chest. Her head rested over his heart, and she smiled at the strong, sure beat that kept time with her own.
“Come here,” he said, dragging her up until their mouths met.
This kiss was unlike any they’d had. Tender. Passionate.
It was as if his kiss was saying what was in his heart, saying words that she feared she’d never hear from him. Yes, she was likely deluding herself, but she held fast to the fantasy because she wanted it so very much.
Then the kiss changed again, becoming bolder, stroking her until she writhed atop him. “Yes,” she moaned against his mouth, groping for his length.
She wanted him in her now, but he seemed in no hurry to oblige her. “Slow down,” he said. “We’ve got all night.”
That was certainly true, yet she felt a desperation to make love to him now. “I want this more than once. I want to make love with you throughout the night so I can remember every second.”
“I’m not leaving again. Not unless you boot me out.” He stroked a hand down her spine to cup her bottom, fingers splayed to hold her, caress her. “Is that what you’re fixing to do because I won’t tell you pretty words that mean nothing?”
She pressed her palm over his heart. “I know you feel something for me. Something good.”
His big hands cupped her hips and yanked her against his hot, hard length. “That’s what I feel. Lust. I want you, and you want me.”
“Yes, but love is stronger. You’re in my heart—”
His mouth captured hers again, smothering the words. She struggled to pull free, to hold on to her thought, to tell him she loved him, to tell him about the child they’d created in love and lost. But his sensual assault on her was too powerful for her to resist.
There was no urgency. She could tell him tomorrow or the next day.
With her mind free of that worry, she succumbed with a groan, kissing him back. His hands coaxed her legs apart though she needed little urging.
A stroke of his fingers over the moist, sensitive cleft between her legs made her buck against him. “Don’t make me wait.”
He didn’t. His hands lifted her hips. “Guide me home.”
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