Jillian Hart (15 page)

Her heart stopped, leaving her chest feeling empty and hollow. Then his hand closed over hers. She could feel his heat, tangible from a hard morning's work in the fields. She could smell the wood and grass scent of him, see a new scratch from a briar at his chin and the concern fading from his gaze. But more, she felt his need for her, bright as the sun, big as the sky.

"I will always protect you." His words came rushed, breathless, but the solid presence of him felt as unruffled as the greatest of mountains.

She heard for the first time, too, what he meant, what he couldn't say. He was afraid of losing her, too. His past might be a void to him, but the heart, it remembered. It did not forget a loss that great—or want to feel such pain again.

"Howdy, Pete!" Chad charged out of the tall grass, his cowboy hat poking up among seed-heavy tips. Pete, the big brown bull, lowered his head and stuck out his tongue to swipe the boy's face. Jack tensed, ready to defend the child should the big animal try to harm him.

Lissa laid her hand on Jack's sun-warmed forearm, the texture of male skin and the light dusting of hair wondrous against her fingertips. She took pride in this man of steel and might.

"Mama and me raised Pete from a baby." Chad giggled as the big brown bull nibbled the brim of his cowboy hat. "His mama died, so we gave him milk from a bottle until he got lots bigger. Then he ate grain and hay from my fingers."

Pete jerked up his head. Lissa laughed. "You big baby. Yes, I brought you some grain." She headed toward the wagon's tailgate, Pete following her.

With every step she felt Jack's steady gaze. He came, too, watching the big animal that was taller at the shoulder than the sideboards of the wagon as he twitched his tail at a pesky fly.

Jack didn't trust easily. He kept careful watch, stood silent sentry as she grabbed the tin pail, the bottom heavy with bright yellow corn and dried oats. He stepped closer as she held the pail while Pete lapped up the treat with his big, broad tongue.

Chad dashed up. The gentle bull laid his forehead against the boy's chest and sighed.

"She raises the best breeding bulls this side of Billings," Will said as he shouldered up to the tailgate for another helping of chicken. "There isn't a rancher in this county who isn't clamoring to buy this fellow right here. The rustlers have tried twice, but couldn't drive him from home."

"I train my bulls to come at the sound or sight of a bucket." Lissa set the empty pail and reached to pour Will another cup of cider. "The rustlers don't seem to know that."

"I hope they never do." Jack laid the flat of his palm on the sun-warmed neck of the gigantic bull. Pete turned his head to scent him, then swiped Jack's hand with his tongue. Jack smiled, and her whole heart warmed.

For the first time in a very long while, all was right in her world.

Jack took one last look at his wife. She stood in the open doorway, looking out at the night and listening to the sounds of the storm. Just rain and wind tonight, no threat of lightning yet.

Still, it was a good night for the rustlers to strike—if they dared.

No lamplight shone to illuminate her. Shades of darkness layered her like cloth. Jack found himself moving toward her. She was quickly becoming his center, his northern star.

"The rain feels good." Her voice rang with contentment, with familiarity, although she didn't turn around.

"It's good for the range land." The rain meant less chance of wildfires later in the summer. Jack settled his hand on Lissa's waist She leaned into his touch, leaned into his kiss, until she was tucked against his chest and moaning beneath the assault of his tongue. "What about the men?"

"McLeod is keeping watch over the cattle until midnight. Arcada is on the other side of the field."

The men guarding this land could be counted on. Jack cupped his hand at the back of Lissa's head and wound his fingers through the silken luxury of her hair. "We are alone for now. For as long as we want."

Rain tapped on the porch roof overhead, dripped off the eaves, drummed against the earth, fell like a curtain of silvery black around them. They were truly alone. Jack caught hold of her collar, released the top button hidden beneath a fluff of lace.

Her kisses burned through his blood, thundered through every part of his body. Her breasts filled his hands, heated silk that felt like nothing he had ever known. She was home and heaven, need and want, wife and lover.

Her fingers plucked at his shirt buttons, smoothed away fabric until there was only air between them. He felt her need, not just for sex but for a man to depend on, a man to trust.

Yet even in her urgent kisses, in her tantalizing fingers curling through his chest hair and then trailing down to wrap around his already erect shaft, there was a holding back—of her heart, of her deepest self.

He wanted that part of her. Wanted her to know he was a man she could trust—now and until the end of time.

"You're ready for me," he whispered in her ear when his fingers found her wetness, felt the way she arched against his palm.

"Yes." She spoke against his mouth.

"You're always ready for me." His chuckle came low, deep as desire, as dark as the night.

She could not deny it, just as she could not deny her body's reaction to him—swift, hard, melting want. She ached for him deep inside, in those inner muscles clenching tightly at his touch.

He was like dreams that come in the dark of night, all wanting and wishing, impossible to be true. Yet he was flesh and blood beneath her fingers, exciting male scent and taste.

His hands cupped her fanny, lifting her against his hips, and she clasped her thighs around him. His erection surged against the heat at her center, pulsed with his heartbeat against the curve of her belly. His wondrous male hardness was all she could think about, all she could feel, breathless.

Need sparked in her blood, then fed an inferno as Jack pressed her against the unyielding wall of chinked logs, hard against her back, but not as hard as he. She arched against him, wanting that thick pulsing hardness buried deep inside her.

"Please," she whispered.

"You need me?" Low and teasing, his voice rumbled against her chest and within her, as if it were her own.

"Yes." It was always a bad idea to need anyone too much, but when his shaft nudged against her inner thigh she tilted her hips, capturing that part of him within the tightness of her body. There was so much instant sensation there, where they joined, and deeper, bigger, that she had to have more of him, all of him, slow inch by slow inch.

"This must be what you need." His whisper curled along her spine, wrapping her in a cocoon of shivering desire.

"Yes." She ought to be embarrassed, but as his hard thickness filled her she could only feel a joy and pleasure and caring so great that it threatened to undo her—to blow apart every reserve, end every fear, make her scarred heart new.

Release scorched her like a firestorm, all flaming wind and greedy flame. Bright, blinding heat engulfed her so much that it hurt, it frightened her, it made every part ache and pulse and burn. She felt Jack's release, the pulse of his shaft, the spill of his seed, the groan tearing through his throat, leaving him spent.

A final pulse moved within her, sparking a fast, hard ripple of heat. She hung helpless, draped against his body, held in his arms, weightless and crying out with sharp aching pleasure, with the power of all he threatened to make her feel.

Gradually, the rippling sensation faded. She heard once again the music of the rain, the harmony of the wind, yet she was still in Jack's arms, still under his spell, joined to him.

Instead of letting her down, he only tightened his hold. His face dipped low as he carried her through the house, and she shivered hard at the feel of his mouth at her breast sucking until the fire of need ignited again. He laid her back on the bed, rising up over her, already hard, setting a rhythm she could not keep.

Already pleasure spiraled through her, bold and dangerous like flames licking high in the sky. Every rippling contraction of her body told her how much she needed him, how she could never let him go.

When he collapsed, spent leaving her far too sated, she buried her face in his chest and closed her eyes, afraid of what she might feel, what she might say.

When he moved away, withdrawing from within her, leaving her cold and alone, she clenched her hands, fighting against feeling that loss of him. He moved away in the dark, a big presence with gentle hands, covering her up with the sheet.

She didn't stir, and he didn't speak, and she felt the distance between them grow. Tears beat at her eyes as he moved away, leaving her alone when all she wanted was to feel more of that sweet oblivion. Making love with Jack was the only time when it was all right to need him—the one time she did not have to feel alone and afraid.

She heard the back door close, knew he was out there in the rain, waiting for rustlers with his armed men, waiting for the chance to keep more of his promises.

Thunder shattered the peace of dawn. Lissa was startled out of sleep, torn out of dreams. A gentle peach glow warmed the windows, brushed the corners of the room. Then she saw the bed beside her—empty. Memories came of Jack carrying her to bed, laying her down to sleep. He had work to do, he'd told her in that deep, hazy voice, so sexy that it alone, without his touch, could make her shiver. He was out there in the morning.

Another rumbling crackle of thunder sheared the silence. Prickles skidded across her skin, burrowed into her stomach. A distant popping sound confirmed her fears. Gunfire, not thunder, had awakened her. The rustlers. Trouble had returned to her ranch.

Jack!
She was out of bed in a flash, pulling on her clothes as she ran for the door. Chad's door was open. No sign of him or his little puppy, and no sound of them, either.

Another string of gunfire sounded closer to the house. Fear clenched hard around her chest. Lissa raced into the kitchen. Her heart stalled when she saw the back door wide open to the sunny world beyond.

Barefoot, she dashed out into the yard. She felt the thunder of cattle before she could see them, a vibrating drum that rocked the earth at her feet

"Chad!" She ignored the bite of rocks and the stab of fallen twigs. "Chad!"

She saw nothing but green grass and rows of growing corn, empty fields. No little boy's head popped up above the thistles and seed-heavy grasses. "Chad!"

No answer.

Prickles skidded across her skin, burrowed into her stomach. Where was her little boy? The bellow of cattle, sharp and high, spun her around at full speed. She rounded the corner in time to see the first of the frightened cows cresting the hill.

"Mama!" Chad's call came, filled with excitement.

"Chad?" There he was, on the lawn at the edge of the road.

"Look what Puddles did." Laughing, Chad held up the small length of a thin stick. Already Lissa was running as the boy tossed the stick. It flew a few feet, the puppy bounding after it.

Lissa was only aware of the drum of the cattle and the shaking earth as the stampeding animals approached. Dirt spun in the air. The world became a blur of browns and whites, moving cows, and raw, coppery fear.

"Chad!" She screamed his name, running as fast as she could. Rocks bit into the soles of her feet, but the pain hardly registered. One cow overtook her, galloping wildly toward the road and open space, toward where Puddles had retrieved the stick and now was tucked safely in the boy's little arms. But the child, defenseless and small, was not safe from the herd.

"No!"
Terror drove her forward. Panicked cattle loped around her, bellowing protest. Like an unstoppable river, the current of wild-eyed animals cut around her. Where was Chad? Where
was
he? Dirt swirled in the air. She couldn't see, couldn't breathe.

"Lissa!" Her name rang above the chaos, strong and clear, but she would not stop. She would not lose her only child.

His mile-wide shoulders set, Jack appeared out of the dust and dirt and driving animals, tall in the saddle. His horse wove through the milling cattle, headed her way.

"Chad! Get Chad!"

Jack's gaze hardened. Realization passed across the features of his face, turning them to stone. He hesitated only a second, and for the first time in her life she could feel, could hear another's thoughts. He had to make a choice between her and Chad.

Before she could draw in another breath, he was gone, wheeling his mount to the west where she'd pointed. She tore after him, screaming her son's name, but the driving hooves and bellowing cattle created enough din to drown out the world. She couldn't see Jack astride his big bay, couldn't stand knowing her son might be trampled, might be dead.

No!
her heart screamed with every step. The herd kept coming, driven by the gunfire from behind. Sharp popping sounds lifted above the drum of the herd and the taste of fear. A cow knocked against her spine, rocking her off her feet.

She hit the ground on her knees, felt the impact of a cow's shoulder against her arm. Pain rocked through her. The blur and drone of motion spilled around her. She tasted dirt and pain. Then a cow, unable to dodge her, jumped over her head.

Lissa ducked and rolled and saw two sets of hooves aiming directly for her. She felt the impact against the curve of her forehead, saw the earth rise up to meet her. She fought hard against the blackness, pure and silent blackness.

* * *

"Lissa!"

He saw her go down in the same instant he spotted Chad, clutching his puppy to his chest, tears running like muddy rivers down his dusty cheeks.

How could he leave her now? Yet the child wasn't safe. She could never live without her son. He knew this without asking, sensed this in the same instinctive way that he felt what she needed in the dark of night when their bodies joined. He knew her—just as he knew he could not live with his choice if he let a child die.

Teeth gritted, he drove the gelding harder, reached down and snared Chad by the waist He lifted the small boy and tiny dog and swept them high, safe from danger. He settled the child on the saddle in front of him, saw Chad's tears, heard his crying, felt his fear.