Rancher Wants a Wife (14 page)

Chapter Fifteen

H
ow could Jack be such a beast?

Cassandra didn’t know whether to kick him or kiss him.

Lying beneath him on the hard kitchen table, with her hands pinned above her head, she stared up into his bold brown eyes and longed greedily for his lips on the tender curves of her neck. She wanted to know how it might feel if he brazenly took what he thought was his.

On the other hand, she wanted to give him no part of herself, for he was much too arrogant for his own good. How could she go on living with him if she allowed him to believe all he had to do was snap his fingers and she’d come running, breasts bared?

He didn’t wait for her approval. With a slow grin, he slid a large hand under the hem of her flannel gown, up her calf and thigh and hip.

She squirmed, trying to get out from under him, but all that accomplished was making him grin more.

“What do you think I am?” she panted. “One of those—those saloon women you’ve cavorted with?”

“How do you know what type of women I’ve cavorted with?”

“By the way you grab me.”

She jerked her hip away from his hand, so instead he ran it up the side of her stomach. His grazing touch gave her gooseflesh, and it annoyed her that she was responding to him when she truly didn’t wish to.

“Do you know what saloon women like me to do to them?”

“Don’t tell me.” She tried to pull her hands from his grasp, but he tightened his grip as easily as if he were holding a kitten. “You’re a spoiled man who always has to have his way. I bet the next thing you’re going to tell me is that they dropped their knickers as soon as they saw you coming.”

A short laugh escaped him. “Oh, the dream of every man.”

“Being manhandled is
not
the dream of every woman.”

“It’s your dream. Right here, right now.” Still holding her hands above her head, he pressed his mouth to her cheek, her earlobe, the tender spot on her neck, his lips so silky and soft she wanted to throttle him.

“Stop it!” she groaned.

“In a minute,” he murmured, while a riptide built inside her. His lips snagged against her high flannel collar, stopping him, and she was so pleased at his inconvenience she couldn’t help but smile. When he fumbled with the buttons at her chin, one-handed, and was unable to unfasten even one, she smugly watched.

“Laugh, will you?” He released her hands and in a move so quick she had no time to halt him, grasped either side of her collar and yanked hard.

Her flannel nightgown ripped wide open from top to bottom; buttons popped on the table and flew against the walls.

Shocked, Cassandra parted her lips and her mouth dropped open.

He secured her hands again, gripping them high above her messy, loose hair.

“Oops,” he said sweetly, basking in the view of her nakedness. “I guess you’ll have to go shopping.”

“You son of a...”

“Now, now. You wouldn’t want to be sounding like a saloon girl.” The beast didn’t even bother looking at her face when he spoke, but focused on the sight of her breasts.

She jerked her knee up, he instinctively flinched to protect his groin, and she heaved with all her might in his weak moment to flip him over onto his back. She hadn’t actually kneed him, just pretended as if she was about to, and the trick had worked.

“How do you like it when the tables are turned? How does this feel now?” She hovered over him on the table, pinning his hands above his dark hair, sitting on top of his hips, with her frayed gown and bare breasts dangling.

“It’s getting better by the moment.”

She growled.

“You’ve caught a big fish. What are you going to do to him?” Jack’s dark cheeks lifted in humor. His black hair lay tousled about his face. “I think you need to bait me with something delicious.” He indicated the body parts inches from his face.

She couldn’t believe he was insinuating that she offer him her bosom. “If you think I’m going to fall for such a dumb...” Her blond hair swayed about her body.

“Come closer,” he whispered.

“No...”

“I want you to.”

“You shouldn’t assume I want the same thing.”

“But you do...you know you do....”

Since her gown was ripped open, it meant she was lying with her bare crotch over his denim jeans. He was hard. If she moved just slightly, like so, it hit such a pleasurable spot on her body. And if she lowered her shoulders, like this, her nipple brushed his lips.

Mmm
.

The experience was mesmerizing. He took her breast ever so gently and kissed it. When she moved the other one to his lips, he did the same, closing his eyes, lost in the fever of the moment.

The heat, the need, the tempo burned within her. She rose up and down on top of him, rubbing ever so softly against his rock-hard erection, and it was his turn to moan. She wouldn’t allow him to lead, he would have to follow, and he would have to be satisfied with whatever she gave him.

They dipped and sucked and she rode him at her leisure. She sensed his urgency but didn’t give in to it, instead taking her time to enjoy the scent of his skin, the light tickling of the hairs on his chest against her nipples, the spilling of her breasts into his mouth. The pressure of her thighs and the moistness there soon sent her on another chase, a more desperate one.

When she released one of his wrists he promptly slid his hand along her thigh and up over her rump, clamping her body to his.

She bent lower and kissed him, as seriously and intensely as she’d ever wanted to. The heat between them built as the kiss grew into a feverish melting of lips and tongue and teasing.

“Cassandra, I’ve never felt such soft lips...such untouched skin....”

She didn’t remember when she’d released his other wrist, but her palms were now firmly pressed on the table on either side of his head, and his hands were kneading her bottom, caressing the curves. He slid one finger to her center, and she loved the feel of the slick, hot glide as they moved together.

He reached to loosen the buttons of his trousers and claw the denim off his hips. His erection sprang to attention.

Jack’s chest was tanned from working in the sun, but his hips were white and attractive. Dark hair trailing from his belly button and farther down drew her attention to an entire area that was new and fascinating to her.

She rested her weight on one knee while he kicked off his trousers, then repositioned himself beneath her, his wide hands splayed over her buttocks, guiding himself inside her.

She arched her back and loved the feel of him, so thick and large and incredibly filling. His hands slid up her rib cage and over her breasts.

“Such beauty I’ve never seen before,” he whispered into the semidarkness. The lantern flame fluttered and illuminated their joined shapes as though they were living, breathing sculptures in some masterful artwork.

He groaned, “I’ll be done so quickly. Let me move into a different position.”

She allowed him, and he slid off the table and stood behind her, his feet imbedded in the soft rug. He knotted his fingers in the ropes of her hair, ran his other hand along the smooth trail of her spine, then gripped the indentation of her waistline.

“Is this all right for you, Cassandra? Are you all right?”

“Yes,” she moaned, loving the feel of them together.

She felt the smooth warmth of his erection on her rump. Then, approaching from behind, he slipped inside her again, filling her up.

“Why don’t you control things?” he whispered. “However feels good to you.”

“This feels good....” She rocked backward onto his hard shaft, rubbing back and forth until it hit the sweet spot, riding and riding till she crested the wave. She climaxed in a height of ecstasy, every muscle releasing, every fear erased, leaving only a burning desire to please her husband and herself.

She wasn’t yet finished when he began to climax inside her. He uttered a guttural moan, his pace speeding up in a familiar frenzy, his hot fingers clenching her hips as he rocked into her with a powerful force.

She embraced the moment and basked in the sheer pleasure, feeling as though she was bound to Jack by some plan of the heavens above.

* * *

It was different this time between them, Cassandra sensed.

Moments later, they untangled their legs. She quickly slipped into the bathing room to tidy herself, then returned to the kitchen to find Jack straightening the chairs and table. He’d already tugged his denim jeans back on.

The light of the lantern danced over the ropy muscles of his back and shoulders.

“Eating dinner on this table will never be the same,” he said with a wry twist to his mouth.

“I won’t tell if you don’t.”

They were still teasing each other, but it wasn’t the same. The barb in their tone had left. Feeling suddenly self-conscious, Cassandra tugged the ripped opening of her flannel gown closed.

He watched her hands.

They were more aware of each other, perhaps a bit intimidated about the intimacy they’d just shared. Before, they’d always withdrawn, but this time they seemed content to leave for the bedroom together.

Cassandra gathered her envelope and package and set them down on the crescent-shaped table in the front hall. When she turned around, Jack surprised her by sweeping her into his arms and carrying her up the stairs. He did it with such ease and grace, his long legs nimbly covering the distance. She leaned her ear and cheek against his bare chest, listening to the drumming of his heart. It was still beating fast, but his breathing had subsided to a more normal pace.

He didn’t bother with the guest bedroom but strode right past it and straight to the marriage bed, where he laid her down and tucked her feet in. Just before he covered her, his eyes strayed to her ripped gown, which had slid open to reveal one rose-tipped breast. He lowered his head quickly and kissed the tip.

“Good night,” he said softly to Cassandra, then went to his side, stripped and eased himself in.

It didn’t take him long to fall asleep—mere seconds, in fact.

She lay awake, wondering what he’d been thinking about her after their bout of lovemaking, and where she stood with him now.

How could she not feel something for Jack? Something deep and alive, and whispering to her what a good man he was, how he was taking care of her and watching out for her.

The torment of Troy’s words,
“I always found you too prim and proper,”
seemed to wash away in a river of mud when she compared them to the night she’d just spent with Jack.

Her husband had certainly found her pleasing. Why, he’d even come right out and said so. He’d made her feel womanly and wanted.

Yet he resisted her request to work. Blazes, how could she get over that? Why should she have to? And this whole business with the possible poisonings was extremely worrisome. Was someone out to harm her or Jack?

Couldn’t he see how hard she’d tried tonight to help solve the puzzle of Thornley’s behavior? Couldn’t Jack see she had ideas of her own merit that even the sheriff and doctor acknowledged, and that she’d make a good detective? Cassandra sighed. No matter how hard she tried, perhaps she and Jack might never solve their differences. Yes, Troy had hammered her heart with his disappointing lies and dalliances with prostitutes, but hadn’t Jack, as well? He’d left her once before, in Chicago, and he could do it again.

It would be much harder for him to leave her now that they were married, but a person could leave emotionally, too. He could pull away and decide he was done with her, that she was too much trouble to figure out, that he was tired of waiting to see if they could put things right between them and learn to trust each other.

It wasn’t as though either one of them had declared their love to the other.

Truth be told, Cassandra was scared to love deeply; her heart was still trembling from the loss of Mary and her father. And if it was pity Jack felt for her, for having to live at the boardinghouse, how was she to tolerate that?

Turning on her pillow, she fell asleep thinking of Chicago and that last, reckless night with Jack. She didn’t recall the nightmare of the burning buildings, or calling out for help before Jack gently touched her shoulder.

“Cassandra, it’s just a dream. It’s a dream, honey.”

She awoke in the morning and he was gone.

Reaching for her robe, she pulled it over her ripped gown, slid her feet into her slippers and made her way down the stairs to find her husband.

Chapter Sixteen

C
assandra found him in his office, at his desk, concentrating on the papers in front of him. The doctor of veterinary science looked more like a well-toned ranch hand, his physique polished to a fine hue from the hours he spent riding, and attending to his horses and stables. His black hair was a touch too long and tousled for normal standards, but it made him look rough and dangerous. He wore fresh denims and a gray shirt that accentuated his tanned skin and dark features.

Maybe Jack realized he was being watched, for something made him turn in her direction. “Cassandra, good morning.”

He seemed to be pleased at her appearance, although she wasn’t sure why, since she was so disheveled.

“You’re up early,” she said.

“I had some things to go over before we head to town.”

She frowned. “We?”

“I owe you a shopping trip.” He glanced down at her robe.

“You don’t need to replace anything, if that’s what you’re concerned about. I have two more flannel gowns just like it.”

“Oh,” he replied with a faltering smile. “That’s splendid.”

She nodded. “So you needn’t worry.”

“But you do need ranch clothes. And a new dress for the Fourth of July.”

“We’re still going to the dance?”

“I assumed you wanted to?”

“In light of the troubles with Derik Thornley...I thought you might want to avoid the celebrations.”

His dark eyes glimmered with marked determination. “We can’t postpone living our lives, and I’ll be damned if I let his presence dictate where we decide to go. We’ll protect ourselves and proceed with caution. Besides, there’s still a chance that I’m wrong, that there was no foul play with the sick animals, or Mr. Dunleigh.”

The knot in her neck seemed to unwind at his words.

Suddenly, it was just the two of them again, and she did truly look forward to buying new clothes. “I’ll be quick.”

“No need to rush.”

She was almost out of the room when Jack added one last comment. “Cassandra?”

“Yes?” she said, enthusiasm ringing in her voice.

When his smoky eyes roved over her, skewed robe and all, she knew he was thinking of their time together on the kitchen table, and she could barely breathe, thinking of it herself.

“I’m glad you still have two more of those granny gowns left. I look forward to removing them, too.”

She gasped. “Dr. McColton, you really must learn to censor your thoughts.”

Then she retreated from the room with a deliberate air of wounded dignity, followed by his laughter.

* * *

Their bodyguard was Russell Crawford, Jack’s foreman. Wearing two holstered guns on his hips, the man nodded to Cassandra as he walked past her, to climb into the buggy behind her and Jack.

“Crawford used to be a bounty hunter,” Jack explained as Cassandra fidgeted uneasily on her seat.

“Back in Denver,” the foreman confirmed.

That was interesting news, she thought, and related to the field she wished to work in. He would be a good source of information on possible gangs who roved the area, and names of the lawmen in various districts. “Good to see you again, Mr. Crawford. I hope you never have to prove your worth as a gunslinger.”

“Likely not, ma’am.” His striking black mustache lifted in the wind. “Sometimes these things have a way of workin’ themselves out. No need to concern yourself. I’ll be here if you need me, otherwise I’m just comin’ along for the ride.”

His easygoing manner was reassuring to her as Jack flicked the reins and they rolled out. He, too, was wearing a holster with two guns. The mere presence of weapons made Cassandra that much more aware of the danger they were in. But no one in these parts would think it odd for a man to be wearing guns, and Jack likely wore them on many of his longer journeys to check on animals.

Cassandra was carrying her own derringer. After showing Jack the silver-handled pistol, she’d placed it and several extra bullets into her satchel. The weight of it shifted on her lap, while the wind snatched at wisps of her hair escaping from her long braid.

For this outing, Jack had harnessed two mares to the buggy, and he handled them with skill. He knew exactly when to accelerate around a corner, and maneuvered easily over ruts in the dry road.

The package containing her bridal gown shifted on the floor in front of Cassandra’s long skirts. She had filled a second box filled with shortbread biscuits, honeys and jams, and intended on mailing the two boxes and the letter to Natasha today.

Cassandra stayed near the buggy with the former bounty hunter when they stopped for twenty minutes on the Woodrow ranch. The ill horses were still doing poorly. Jack gave them more medicine and promised the rancher he’d return the next day.

They continued on their way and entered Sundial.

The main road was busy with wagons and riders, and folks walking along the boardwalk, intent on their business. Jack turned right at the main square. They drove beneath a large white banner that read Independence Day Festivities—Friday from Noon till Midnight in the Town Square.

Anticipation rolled through Cassandra at the thought that she and Jack would be attending. Maybe Friday would be the beginning of a whole new “independence” for them and their marriage. Even though he had that tough side to him, the one that didn’t allow his pride to bend, he could be incredibly considerate and sensual and generous.

“Before we get to the clothing stores,” said Jack, “I thought we’d drop in to see Mrs. Dunleigh.”

“Lovely idea,” Cassandra replied.

They pulled up beside a white house shaded by palm trees. Mrs. Dunleigh was sitting on a swing on the front porch, gray hair pinned into a bun, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. When she spotted the three of them, she greeted them warmly.

“Good morning,” Cassandra said. “We’ve come to see how you are.”

“Missing my husband terribly,” Mrs. Dunleigh replied with a sob. “But it helps to see kind faces.” She ushered the McColtons into the house. Mr. Crawford remained outside to keep a discreet watch.

They stayed for an hour, drinking tea and listening to her stories of the early years of her marriage. Cassandra felt great sympathy for their years of hard living, and could well imagine two immigrants arriving from England with big dreams of a new life in America.

She was surprised to see Jack listening intently, too. He didn’t mention anything of his suspicions about Yule’s possible poisoning, much to Cassandra’s relief; for it would be upsetting for the older lady. He did ask a few pointed questions as they stood by the door, preparing to leave.

“It’s terrible, how sudden it all was,” he said to Mrs. Dunleigh. “You say you finished eating lunch, and he went to get the newspaper at the front door. Was it your usual lunch, in your wing of the house?”

“Yes, yes, prepared in our kitchen. Yule loved to watch the birds.”

“Birds?” asked Cassandra.

“We ate on the small terrace outside our quarters.”

“Did you get up and leave the table for any reason?” Jack asked.

Mrs. Dunleigh frowned at the question. “Well, Yule set the table, as usual, while I prepared the sandwiches. The only time he got up was when he saw the rider approaching from the laneway. He left the table to go to the front door and collect the paper.”

“I see.”

So, thought Cassandra, there would’ve been no opportunity for a stranger to put any poison into his food, if they hadn’t left the table. And since Mrs. Dunleigh hadn’t suffered any poisoning symptoms herself, it meant the food in general hadn’t been tampered with.

Jack scratched his temple. “What did he have to eat earlier that day? For breakfast, for example?”

“The usual. Sausage and eggs. We ate together. I always made our lunch and dinners, but he always cooked us breakfast. Said he liked serving me the morning meal. Why do you ask?”

“I’m trying to get a feel for how he spent his last few hours.”

“He wasn’t feeling well the night before,” she said, absently shaking her head. “Came down with an awful headache. And that constriction in his chest.”

“Yes, I heard you mention to Dr. Clarkson that he’d taken two pills for his angina that night.”

“He had for the last several nights.”

Jack’s brown eyes flickered.

There didn’t seem to be any indication, according to what Cassandra was hearing, of anything unusual, such as foul play.

“We’ll be off,” Jack said.

Mrs. Dunleigh and Cassandra embraced, and the older woman waved as the two of them headed to their buggy.

“Did you hear anything that helped you?” Cassandra asked Jack as soon as they were out of earshot. Crawford was pacing the street several yards away.

Jack tugged on the rim of his black Stetson. “Not especially. I didn’t know Yule had been having heart symptoms for the last week. Everything seems to point to a natural cause of death.”

The foreman once again climbed into the buggy behind them. Five minutes later, they were parking outside the shops along Sundial’s main street. They went into the postal outlet and mailed Natasha’s packages. Cassandra didn’t mention what was inside, and Jack didn’t invade her privacy by asking.

“How much does Mr. Crawford know about your suspicions?” Cassandra whispered to Jack when they were alone again.

“I didn’t tell him about the potential murder of Dunleigh. Only that we want his protection because Thornley had pulled some punches at me, and I was concerned about his retaliation at you. I told Crawford to keep it to himself, and he will.”

Jack nodded hello to a few people strolling by on the boardwalk as he and Cassandra made their way to the clothing shops. One store, Lucille’s, had a big, beautiful sun hat in the front window. Another was called The Velvet Touch. Cassandra recognized the woman who was arranging a skirt in the display case. She was the snobby owner who’d commented on Cassandra’s scar and shabby dress when Jack had been showing her the sundial last week. Now, the woman smiled and eagerly motioned for Jack to come inside her shop to look at her merchandise.

Cassandra stiffened. “I’d prefer Lucille’s.”

“Me, too. But before we get there, would you mind if we dropped by Hugh’s office?” Jack pointed to a stone building on the corner of the next block.

“Not at all.”

She turned at Jack’s light touch on her spine, and stepped beside him through the crowd. She noticed that Crawford was following a few paces behind, as if casually scouting the area.

Cassandra wondered what Jack had to say to Hugh Logan, and whether this might be her opportunity to voice a few matters of her own.

* * *

Several minutes later, in Hugh’s office, Jack wished that Cassandra didn’t look so uncomfortable, her fingers fidgeting, while her lips twitched. He supposed she had every right to bristle in the presence of his attorney, since she’d told Jack in one of their blustery arguments that she was well aware Hugh had disapproved of her as a mail-order bride.

“Hello, Cassandra.” The lawyer, with his red hair slicked back, and wearing a checkered suit, greeted her politely. “Please have a seat, both of you.”

Jack held out a chair for her near the window. Her glossy braid fell over her shoulder, and she wore a simple cream-colored blouse and skirt, but the woman beneath was anything but simple. She was nuanced and complicated and the most exasperating female he had ever met.

And it was high time that she and Hugh got to know each other. Maybe then the next time they visited, she wouldn’t be so ill at ease.

Hugh’s gaze flicked over her worn clothing. Jack wondered if his friend could see the obvious—that if she were after Jack’s perceived wealth, she wouldn’t be dressing so modestly, wearing so very little jewelry except her wedding band and a thin gold locket around her neck. This woman was not after his money.

Hugh sat behind his desk. “Cassandra, tell me how you’re getting on at the ranch.”

“I’m finding my way,” she answered.

After the pleasantries were dispensed with, Jack leaned forward on the chair, Stetson in hand, and asked outright, “What have you discovered about Thornley?”

“Jack, for heaven’s sake, it’s only been a day since I received your note, asking me to check into him.”

“Yes, I know. That’s plenty of time. So what did you learn?”

Hugh exhaled in exasperation. His suit glistened in a streak of sunlight pouring in the window when he turned to Cassandra. “Is he always this impatient at home?”

“Oh, yes, quite.” A soft smile reached her lips. “You should hear him hollering for his porridge in the morning.”

“Come now,” Jack argued, “that’s not true.”

Hugh nodded in her direction. “Once when he and I were crossing the Rockies, he wouldn’t go to sleep at night because he was convinced we were surrounded by rattlers.”

“Hey, I saw one,” said Jack.

“A baby.”

“Where there’s a baby, there’s a thousand of them nesting.”

Hugh scoffed. “If you expect me to believe something that ludicrous—”

“Maybe I exaggerated a bit ’cause I knew you were squirmy,” Jack said with a chuckle, enjoying the ribbing. “But you know you can’t shoot worth beans. So
I
had to stay up, because if the rattlers attacked—”

“If you hadn’t been drivin’ the horses as if we were in some race, I might’ve enjoyed a bit of that fresh air.”

“Who’re you kidding?” Jack retorted. “You don’t like fresh air, you like city living—”

“Never thinking about anyone else’s time but your own—”

“I think about your time. You charge me enough for it.”

Both men turned to Cassandra and shook their heads. She appeared uncertain who to side with. “You sure you two aren’t somehow related?”

“He should be so lucky,” muttered Jack.

“I’m the better looking,” said Hugh. “And I was hoping that marriage might mellow you, Jack.”

“It’s made me more aware that time is passing. Now hurry the hell up and say something intelligent. So far I’ve gotten five minutes of useless chatter that you’ll probably add to your hefty bill.”

“You didn’t hold back when you charged me for that black stallion.”

“It cost extra for all the hand holding I had to do, teaching you how to saddle him and ride. You’re worse than a schoolkid.”