Promises Linger (Promise Series) (23 page)

And Elizabeth was.

“A man’s got to be practical out here,” he agreed.

She sighed. “It would help.”

“No doubt.” He rubbed her back, urging her against his chest. He liked the way she felt resting against him. Soft and sweet. She gave up the unequal struggle and lay her head on his chest. He let his mind wander over their conversation. The part about where she referred to being back where she started set a warning chill down his spine. Aaron’s ranch bordered Elizabeth’s. If it went bankrupt, Aaron would be the one most likely to want to take over. The drought was hitting everyone hard. He wondered how hard it was hitting Aaron’s spread. He made a note to check it out. Just not tonight. Tonight, he was just too doggone tired.

He let his head drop back. Under his hand, Elizabeth’s shoulder muscles relaxed. He smiled and closed his eyes. She was skittish, but he’d coax her around. He recalled her summation of his ‘needs’, and his smile broadened. No doubt she considered herself an authority on the subject, but she still had a lot to learn about him. He didn’t like discord in his life. He had no intention of having anything other than a sweetly willing wife in his bed. Other men could waste their energy looking for excitement outside the marriage. With the proper approach, he was willing to bet Elizabeth was more than capable of delivering all the excitement he could handle. It was going to take some ruminating, but he’d find the key. Only a fool wouldn’t.

Elizabeth’s even breathing and lax muscles told him she was asleep. He decided to hold her a bit longer and enjoy this rare moment of peace before he carried her up to bed. He imagined her discomfort with the kindness and smiled anew. Courting Elizabeth was looking to be the most fun he’d had in a month of Sundays.

Leaning his head back on the chair, he relaxed, letting the quiet overtake him.

Chapter Ten

Elizabeth cast a harried glance at the sun streaming through the window. If she didn’t hurry, she was never going to get Asa’s lunch to him. He wouldn’t wait before heading into town either, because he wasn’t expecting her. He’d grabbed some cheese and biscuits and told her not to worry, but, well, darn it! She hadn’t cooked herself into the ground the last two weeks, filling out his lean frame, just to see the man drop back to scrawny from eating hard tack and cheese.

She put the last of the fried chicken in the basket. She wrapped two fresh loaves of potato bread in a towel, packed four ears of corn over it and carefully balanced an apple pie on top. She was halfway to the door before she remembered silverware. Muttering under her breath, she tucked some in the side. At the door, she grabbed her shawl. It would heat up as the day wore on, but right now there was a nip in the air. Before she fastened it, she took a moment to finger the pin. A feather could have knocked her over when Asa had brought it home from town the other day. It was a simple rendering of a bunch of wildflowers tied with a bow. It was silly and impractical, and she couldn’t stop touching it. He hadn’t said anything beyond it had made him think of her.

She’d spent hours pondering about that, but she hadn’t asked. No doubt to him, it had been an impulse. The thought forgotten as soon as he’d made the purchase, but to her, it was the first present anyone had gotten her since she was eight, and it had meaning. She just couldn’t figure out what.

As soon as she stepped onto the porch, the breeze tugged at her shawl. She tucked the loose ends under her arms, held the basket tightly, and dashed to the barn. It was warm in there, humid and thick with the lingering odor of the animals that’d spent the night here. As she passed Shameless’ stall, she blushed as she had every day for the last week. She couldn’t think of the horse without remembering her husband and the license he’d taken.

Or her response whenever he was near.

She’d been worried that he’d think less of her, but it didn’t seem to matter to him that she’d enjoyed his touch. Fortunately or unfortunately. She sighed. That was another thing she hadn’t decided upon since he hadn’t touched her like that again.

She shook her head at her silliness. She should be grateful she had a husband who was capable and respectful, who didn’t make demands and gave her little presents. Even though she didn’t understand the man, these last weeks had been the most peaceful she’d had in her entire life. She tied the basket to the saddle horn. Part of her didn’t want it to change. Another part of her wanted her husband to do something besides kiss her gently on her forehead and fall asleep on his side of the bed.

If she were brutally honest, she wanted more. Of it and him. She wanted to be the wild woman again who’d taken his hard cock in her mouth and sucked him to mindlessness. Only this time, she didn’t want him to pull out at the last moment. She wanted to taste him, to feel him come over her tongue. To swallow his seed. To own him in that intensely intimate manner. She just wasn’t sure about how to get back to that moment. Then she’d been out of her head with need, her body on fire from repeated orgasms. It had seemed right and natural at the time to beg him to fuck her face. However, she couldn’t imagine just sidling up to him and asking for a repeat performance out of the blue.

The way he cuddled her was nice, though. She bit her lip as she untied Willoughby’s reins. She flat out didn’t understand the man. Asa had been eager enough before. Maybe his needs weren’t that frequent. Willoughby shifted to the right as she slid under his neck, knocking her bonnet to the barn floor.

“Darn it.”

“Can I help you, ma’am?”

She looked up to find a brown-haired, brown-eyed ranch hand standing respectfully with his hat in his hand. She scooped up the bonnet, self-conscious that he’d know from her ease of movement that she wasn’t wearing a corset. “I’m fine.”

His hat lazily spun in his hand. Without missing a beat, he tossed it in the direction of the horse. “Going somewhere?”

She expected to see the hat hit the floor. At the last possible second, he caught it in his hand. There wasn’t even a break in rhythm. While his expression didn’t change, she swore she saw a smile in his eyes. “I was just riding out to bring Asa his lunch.”

“I’ll keep you company.”

Her stomach dropped in dismay. Which was really silly as she was only bringing her husband lunch. Not plotting a way to get him naked and hard and in her mouth. “That’s not necessary.”

“He’s out a piece. Pretty little thing like you might get lost.”

She gritted her teeth. Pretty little thing, indeed. “I assure you Mr…?”

“Clint, ma’am.”

“Surely you have a last name?”

“Just Clint will do.”

“I assure you, Mr. Clint, that I know every inch of this ranch.”

Had she hired him? She looked at him closer. A lot of men came west to forget things. Going by a first name wasn’t uncommon, but still, she had to ask. “Are you running from the law, Mr. Clint?”

He spun his hat in the air. It seemed to take on a life of its own and flipped onto his head. While she stared in amazement, he said, “No, ma’am. Just don’t hold much with formality.”

Where had she heard that before? “Well, Mr. Clint, I really want to catch my husband before he heads for town. While I appreciate the offer of an escort, I don’t have time to wait for you to secure a mount.”

He emitted a short whistle between his teeth. Before her ears could recover from the blast, he was swinging lazily into the saddle of a beautifully proportioned palomino that appeared from one of the stalls. “No problem.”

She swung up onto her own mount, adjusting her skirts so they covered as much as possible. She eyed him as she adjusted the reins. “A true gentleman would have helped a lady onto her mount.”

He flashed her a slow, easy grin. “A true gentleman would have been eating your dust.”

Gads! Was she really so transparent that every man around could read her like a book? She touched her heels to Willoughby’s flank. As she passed the cowboy, he inclined his head respectfully.

“I gather you’ve been assigned to keep an eye on me?” she asked.

He didn’t bother to deny it. “Asa was worried you might need help around the place.”

How dumb did he think she was? “Seems to me Old Sam would be a better choice to help close to home rather than a capable man in his prime.”

His sleepy-eyed palomino pulled up along Willoughby. The horse, she decided, was a lot like his owner. While he seemed to be as lazy as all get out, he seemed to have no trouble keeping up.

“Asa sets a store by you, ma’am. He’s not one for taking chances.”

“So he’s assigned me a guard?” Willoughby’s snort was an eloquent summation of her disgust.

“It wasn’t like that.”

“How was it?”

“This might be something you’d be better off asking your husband.”

“It’s a long trip to the back range. I might as well spend it productively.”

“Somehow, I knew you were going to say that,” he answered as forlornly as if she’d assigned him a week of well digging.

He stared straight ahead, but while his lips didn’t move, his eyes crinkled at the corners in amusement. Elizabeth realized for the first time he was an attractive man. “So, how exactly was it?”

“It came to Asa’s attention that you’re not much of a homebody.”

“Excuse me?”

“Seems like you like to spend the afternoons gadding about.”

“I do not gad.”

“Well, Monday, you went up the mountain.”

“Asa wanted blackberry pie.”

“And I’d like to be the one to speak for the rest of the hands, ma’am, and thank you for the pie you sent down to the bunkhouse. It was a welcome addition to Old Sam’s idea of cooking.”

“You’re welcome.” That was the longest speech she’d heard the man make. She suspected it was along the lines of a distraction. “So how does my picking blackberries on the mountain constitute gadding about?”

It really was the most irritating term.

The way the crinkles left the corner of his eyes told her he’d caught onto her annoyance. “It just made the boss nervous, ma’am.”

Her gaze dropped to the rifle in its scabbard and the revolver riding on his hip. “So nervous he insists on an armed escort?”

He shifted uncomfortably in the saddle. “You really might be more comfortable discussing this with your husband, ma’am.”

“I’m perfectly comfortable discussing it with you.”

“Tuesday, you went up to the Hennessy spread.”

“The Hennessy’s are people of modest means. Calling it a spread is a bit of a stretch.”

“I didn’t want to be impolite enough to call it a shack.”

“Why? I do.”

He shot her a glance. “I can see that.”

“If Jack Hennessy would lay off the bottle and attend to his family, his wife might just have a decent place to winter in.”

“You seem a bit emotional on the subject.”

“I dislike Mr. Hennessy intensely.”

“But you like Mrs. Hennessy?”

“Jenna Hennessy is a sweet woman. She deserves better than a honeymoon freezing to death in the mountains.” And she deserved better than to be knocked around daily by her husband.

“I think I saw her in town. She’s blonde, very young and pretty?”

A horrible combination for a woman. Elizabeth struggled to keep the disgust out of her voice. “She is.”

“Word is Hennessy’s a mean son of a gun.”

“He is.”

Clint tipped his hat back on his head. “Might have to take me a wander up the mountain one of these days.”

Elizabeth glared at him. Typical man. One whisper that a young, unhappy woman might be ripe for the plucking, and they couldn’t wait to go check it out. “You leave Jenna Hennessy alone or you’ll be looking for another job!”

His gaze, when it met hers, was cold, sending a chill down her spine. For all his lazy nonchalance, Elizabeth realized that Mr. Just-Clint was a very dangerous man. “Pardon me, ma’am, but what I do with my free time is my business.”

She bit her lip on the argument that leapt to her tongue. Jenna’s face came to her mind. Too thin, full of pride, struggling to cover the misery of her circumstances with flashing smiles and a belief that all would be well. “Please, Mr. Clint. Leave her alone. She doesn’t need any more trouble.”

“As I said, ma’am, what I do with my free time is my business.”

He was right. She made a mental note to warn Jenna. “We’ve lost the topic of our conversation.”

“Gotta admit, I was kind of hoping it would stay lost.”

“No doubt as you’ve been assigned the role of spy.”

“I’ll allow it might seem that way to you.”

“There’s no other way to see it.”

“I’ll be letting you take that up with your husband, ma’am. If I’m not mistaken, that’s him heading our way.”

She looked where he pointed and, sure enough, Shameless crested the hill at a canter, Asa on his back, in a seamless silhouette of grace and power. He looked like a man capable of ruling the world. And he was her husband. A little trill of what could only be pride went through her.

Clint dropped back as Asa pulled up beside her. “Anything wrong?” Asa asked.