Rage of Passion (11 page)

The thought disturbed her. She'd been wrong about Dennis. What if she was wrong about Gabe? It was different, living with someone. You never knew people until you lived with them.

He turned his head, studying her in a somber silence. “You're too quiet,” he said. “Say something.”

“She's always quiet,” Becky told him. “She doesn't talk much.”

“She used to,” Gabe returned with a grin. “She never shut up, in fact.”

“I only blabbered because you made me nervous,” she shot back, and then cleared her throat when she realized what she'd confessed.

“Your mama had a crush on me,” Gabe said arrogantly, lifting his chin at a cocky angle as he studied Maggie with knowing eyes. “She thought I was the best thing since buttered bread.”

Becky giggled, and Becky's mama ground her teeth together. “Why didn't you marry my mama, Uncle Gabe?” Becky asked suddenly.

Maggie wanted to get under the horse. She bit her lower lip while Gabe stared at her under the wide brim of his hat and pursed his lips thoughtfully.

“I was afraid she wouldn't be happy with what I had to offer her, back then,” he said matter-of-factly and without embarrassment. “We weren't always well-to-do, young lady,” he added with a gentle smile. “We had some hard times here for a while. It was during those hard times that I lost track of your mother.”

Maggie stared at him, fascinated. Was it just for Becky's benefit—a little white lie—or was he telling the truth?

He caught her intent scrutiny and grinned, his pale eyes making a joke of it. She smiled back, but something inside her closed up like a flower in the darkness: she'd wanted it to be true.

“Down this way,” Gabe said suddenly, turning Becky's mare. “I've got something to show you.”

There was a little path down to the creek, and near it were several cows with calves.

“Baby cows!” Becky burst out. “Could I pet one?”

“Oh, Gabe, no, those are longhorn cows!” protested Maggie, who'd once been chased by a mad mama longhorn.

“These are old pets,” Gabe replied easily, dismounting. “They won't hurt her. Come on, baby.”

He reached up his arms. Becky hesitated, but in the end she let him swing her to the ground. And this time he made sure she didn't see him grimace.

“These are just a few weeks old,” he told her, keeping between the young girl and the old cows. “Go easy, now. You can win over most any creature if you're just slow and careful and talk soft. Ask your mama.”

Maggie blushed furiously as he glanced over his shoulder with a mischievous grin.

Mercifully, Becky didn't understand what he was saying. Her wide eyes were on the calves. She moved close to a young one and touched it between the eyes, where it was silky. It tried to nibble on her hand, and she jerked back with a delighted laugh.

“Oh, isn't she pretty?” Becky cooed, doing it again.

“He,” Gabe corrected. “That youngster is going to grow up to be a good young bull.”

“Not a steer?” Maggie asked.

“Not this one. See the conformation?” he asked, gesturing toward the smooth lines of the young animal. “He's already breaking weight-gain ratio records. I want to breed this one.”

“How do you keep up with so many cattle?” Becky asked unexpectedly.

“I have a big computer in my office,” he told her. “I have every cow and calf I own on it. Ranching is moving into the twentieth century, honey. We don't use tally books too much anymore.”

“What's a tally book?”

He explained it to her, about the old-time method of counting cattle, about the days when every ranch owner would send a rep to roundup to make sure none of his cattle were being appropriated.

“That's still done in these parts, too,” he added, leaning against a tree to smoke a cigarette while Becky stroked the calf. “We have quite a crowd here when we start branding and moving cattle, and at the end of it I throw a big barbecue for the neighbors. We help each other out, even on a ranch this size.”

“Do you really use those airplanes to round up cattle?” Maggie asked.

“Sure. The helicopter, too. It's a great time-saver when you're moving thousands of head.” His pale eyes moved slowly down Maggie's body, over the white knit short-sleeved sweater and the neat jeans that hugged her rounded hips and long, elegant legs.

“It's hard work, too,” she said, burning under his frank appraisal.

“Very hard.” He lifted the cigarette to his mouth, glancing at Becky, who was talking softly to the calf while its mother watched with indulgent interest. “I get ill-tempered this time of year.”

“I did notice,” Maggie began.

He turned, crushing out the cigarette as he started toward her. “Did you?”

She backed up. Surely he wouldn't…not with Becky watching!

He intimidated her back against a large oak tree and kept her there with just his presence. “What was that,” he asked politely, “about noticing I was ill-tempered?”

“You would have sent me packing, but for your mother,” she reminded him.

“Not really.” He smiled at her gently. “You started getting under my skin all over again, that first day. I might have let you get as far as packing, but I'd have found an excuse to keep you here.”

Her heart began to run wild. Becky wasn't even watching.

Gabe moved a little closer, leaning one arm, the uninjured one, beside her head against the tree. The action brought him so close that she could smell the tobacco on his breath, feel the muscles cording in his powerful legs and chest.

His eyes dropped to her mouth. “I can almost taste the coffee on your breath,” he whispered. “And if Becky was a few yards down the creek, I'd ease my body down on yours and let you feel the effect you have on me in those tight little jeans.”

Her breath caught. “Gabriel!”

“Don't try to pretend you don't know it, either,” he continued. His eyes dropped. “That sweater doesn't hide what you're feeling.”

Maggie frowned slightly. Her eyes followed his, and she could see the tautness in her nipples even through the flimsy bra and knit top.

“You know, don't you, that your body reflects desire that way?” he whispered, searching her wide eyes. “Why do you think men get so stirred by a woman who isn't wearing a bra?”

“I…I am wearing one,” she began.

“It doesn't cover much, does it?” He frowned. “Don't go around the men that way,” he added suddenly. “I can't afford to fire anybody this week.”

Her eyebrows arched. “But—”

“You have pretty breasts,” he whispered softly, holding her eyes.

She tingled from head to toe. Her breath wouldn't let out. Gabe's eyes were drowning her, she couldn't get to the surface. The whole world was pale blue, and her body was trembling slightly, burning up inside. Her lips parted, and she made a soft, barely perceptible movement toward him.

“You shouldn't talk that way to me,” she breathed.

“You shouldn't let me,” he whispered back. “If you keep encouraging me, I'll make love to you.”

“You can't.”

“Sure I can.” He nuzzled her nose with his. “So can you. I don't mind if you sleep with me.”

“There's Becky.”

He smiled. “Becky is quite a girl. She'll make a rancher before she quits.”

“That isn't what I meant,” Maggie replied. She touched his chest, liking the feel of hard muscle under the warm shirt. “You're very hairy there,” she said absently, and caught her breath when she remembered how his chest felt against her bare skin.

“You always seemed to like that,” he murmured, watching her. “At least you sure stared when I stripped off my shirt while I was working.”

She swallowed. “You…you're very nicely built.”

He smiled. “So are you.”

Maggie smiled back. She felt shy and giddy, all at once.

They stared at each other for a long moment, eyes meeting eyes, curious and then quiet and probing and intense. She felt her breath quicken, saw his chest rise and fall heavily.

“I'm on fire,” he whispered huskily. “I want your hands on my bare skin.”

She trembled because she wanted it, too. “We…aren't alone.”

“How fortunate for you,” he replied curtly. “Because if we were, I'd lay you down, so help me.”

Her body reacted to his threat in a wildly responsive way. She tried to get a deep breath and couldn't.

“No comment?” he asked. “No urge to cut and run? Or doesn't the thought of having sex with me frighten you anymore?”

“It would be…more…than that,” she whispered. “Wouldn't it?”

“More than you can imagine, honey,” he replied evenly, searching her soft eyes. “You and I would go up in flames if we got in bed together.”

Her mind was seeing that. Seeing his long, nude body stretching against hers on cool, striped sheets, feeling his muscles ripple as her hands smoothed over them and savored their warm, rough strength.

“My God, don't look at me like that,” he cried harshly, and actually shuddered. “I can read your mind!”

Her lips parted on a trembling breath. “So beautiful,” she murmured. “That…with you.”

Gabe caught her arm with his hand, holding it with such fierce ardor that she welcomed the discomfort. Her head tilted back, her mouth invited his.

“I can't kiss you like that with Becky here,” he said in a hoarse undertone. “God, I couldn't even stop once I started! I'd devour you.”

“I'd let you,” she whispered softly. “I'd let you do anything….”

He turned away with a hard groan, letting go of her arm. “Becky, want to see the wildflowers?” he called. His voice didn't seem quite normal but Becky didn't notice. She was still petting the calf with fascination.

“Sure!” she called back, laughing.

Maggie eased away from the tree on shaky legs. She wasn't at all sure how to handle these new, explosive emotions. Gabe was wearing her down without even trying. And now she wanted him, as she hadn't even in her youth. She couldn't think what was best anymore. She wasn't at all sure that she could leave him.

“Come on, slowpoke,” Gabe called to her, smiling, although his eyes were blazing as they met hers. “Let's get going.”

She waited for him to boost her into the saddle after he'd helped Becky up. But he was towering over her, so close that she could feel the warmth of his body.

“I've got to,” he whispered sharply as Becky turned her horse away from them. “Just for a second!”

His mouth crushed down on hers, hungrily, roughly. She opened her lips, but he drew back immediately with a visible shudder.

“Oh…” she whispered on a sob.

“I'll be on my knees by tonight,” he ground out, helping her into the saddle. “My God, I'm already shaking like a boy.”

“So am I,” she told him with an unsteady smile.

“Pretty soon we're going to have to settle this thing, honey,” he said, his eyes steady and intent. “I can't handle what I feel.”

Her face colored. “I can't be sure—”

“I won't rush you,” he interrupted as Becky came back toward them. “Good girl,” he called, striding toward his horse. “You're beginning to look like a cowgirl!”

“Am I really?” Becky asked enthusiastically.

“You really are,” he assured her. “I'm going to show you a sea of wildflowers. Texas meadows look like fairyland in spring.”

He led them back toward the farm road, then turned to the south. They were facing a field that looked as if it had been paint-splattered. It was alive with color.

“The blue is bluebonnets, our state flower,” he announced, sweeping his hand toward the distant horizon, where dust clouds told them men were massing cattle. “The orange and red is Mexican hat and Indian paintbrush, and there are daisies and some blooming thornbushes mixed in with it. All this used to be prairie,” he added with a wistful look. “Black with buffalo herds, unspoiled. It's a pity what we have to trade for progress.”

“Will the buffalo come back?” Becky asked.

Gabe leaned his forearms over the pommel and shook his head. The leather creaked with the smooth motion of his body. “Afraid not, honey. They're gone, like the pioneers and the Indians. Gone in a rage of passion called westward expansion.”

“Reactionary,” Maggie accused gently. “You'd like to tear up the cities and start over.”

He turned toward her. “Sure I would.” He grinned. “I'm a cattleman. I like plenty of space and no fences.”

“You were born a hundred years too late.”

“Amen to that,” he agreed. He sighed, glancing toward the dust. “Well, I hate to do it, but I'll have to get you two home so that I can go back to work. Becky, we'll go over to Dane's late this afternoon and see about that pup. What do you say?”

The child grinned. “I think you're terrific, Uncle Gabe.”

“Do you like it here, honey?” he asked, suddenly serious.

“Oh, yes,” Becky sighed, her face radiant as she stared around. “I wish I could live here always.”

He looked over her head at Maggie, whose own eyes dropped. She didn't know if she could give him what he'd demand if she married him. Marriage terrified her, he had to know that.
Please
, she thought,
please don't back me into a corner.

He seemed to understand what she was feeling, because he didn't say another word about it. Instead, he began talking about puppies again, and on this happy topic Becky kept up an enthusiastic monologue all the way home.

The days went quickly after that. Gabe always found time to spend with Becky and her mother. He bought the collie puppy for Becky and convinced her that they had to wait until it was weaned to bring it home. It was only for a few days, and he kept the little girl busy with all sorts of adventures.

He found a bird's nest for her to explore one day. The next, he drove her and Maggie in the truck to a small creek that ran right across a dirt road, where Becky could wade and chase butterflies that lifted in swirls of color from the damp sand. He always had a surprise for Becky. And like any child, she responded to his attention with slow but genuine affection. As time passed, she relaxed and actually seemed to trust him. Maggie, whose own feelings for Gabe had fluctuated wildly from anger to affection, was having trouble adjusting to his sudden switch in attitude toward her. Becky was getting all the attention now. Gabe hadn't made a move toward her physically since the day they'd gone riding. He seemed to be deliberately letting things cool off between them. He was gentle with her, and he teased her and picked at her in a roughly affectionate way. But he hadn't made another pass at her, and although it was a kind of relief in one way, it was a bitter disappointment in another. Maggie couldn't begin to understand herself these days.