Taming Talia (8 page)

“Don’t you worry, Natalia. I learned a long time ago how to care for my prick. It’s instinctive among the male gender.”

“No doubt. Indeed, Reginald deemed his cock so precious, I was forced to worship at its altar more times than I could count. Sadly, he never returned the favor.”

“That is—was—his loss. Don’t understand it myself.”

He moved closer and caressed her cheek, filling her heart with a rush of new-found emotions. “I’m glad to know there isn’t anything wrong with me, after all.”

“
You
are a gift to mankind, and I’m honored you shared yourself with me.” He swept a theatrically low bow.

She held back a giggle. The man was still naked from the waist down. And while she still could, she took in the sight of his long, strong-muscled thighs. Lean hipped and flat bellied, he had a slightly furry chest with a whorl of black that dipped to a patch of black hair where his thick cock jutted at her in a most friendly manner.

“What?”

“Observing my lover,” she said. “It was so dark last night…”

“Yes, it was the blind leading the blind.” His expression seemed lit from within as he leaned over and placed a quick kiss on her forehead.

“All the same, you did exceptionally well.” She smiled, fluttering her lashes for effect, yet feeling abashed at their frank exchange.

He yanked up Reginald’s Levi’s, cutting off her view. “Someone better mind her own business, or she’s going to be the one minus a couple of very pretty…”

He wiggled his eyebrows; then, grinning, he bent to take a nipple in his warm mouth, obliterating all her thoughts of caring for the animals and getting back to the ranch house. Every time he used his mouth on her body, she wanted nothing more than to slide his fine cock between her legs. Her body suffused with heat; she clung to him, wishing they could make love again on the spot.

He shook his head. “Get dressed.” His voice was low and raspy. “The horses need to be fed and watered. A cow needs milking.”

At that, the sounds of bovine lowing intruded into her fantasy. Pulling up her riding pants, somewhat carefully due to the tenderness between her legs, she nodded. “I know.”

They quickly finished dressing. Jared tended to both horses’ needs while Natalia milked the cow. “What’ll we do with all this milk?” She nodded toward the wooden bucketful of milk with steam rising in the frigid air. “Maybe we could get one bucket back to the house.”

“Maybe.”

She walked over to her mare’s stall and rubbed her nose. “It’s going to be all right, Esperanza. It will.” Her mare nickered softly under Natalia’s touch.

“Trying to convince the mare or yourself?”

“A little of both, I guess.”

“Are you ready?” he asked, nodding toward the door.

“To brave the elements? As ready as I’ll ever be.” Truly, if they never left the stable until the snow melted in the spring, she couldn’t imagine a better… Maybe not. She wrinkled her nose as an awareness of the stable smells hit her full force. Horse droppings. Cow patties.

“Good. ’Cause getting back to the ranch house isn’t going to be a Sunday stroll.” He buttoned the heavy overcoat she’d given him from Reginald’s wardrobe. It was a snug fit through the shoulders, but loose through the gut. Reginald had sported quite a belly.

Jared dragged the bale of rope that would be their guideline between the stable and house over to the stable door, then set it down. “First things first. Let’s get this door open.”

She picked up two shovels, then walked over to the door to stand beside him. “I can help.”

Grinning down at her, he took one of the shovels and delivered a slow, deliberate wink. “Wouldn’t think of leaving you behind.”

Natalia watched as Jared lifted the heavy wooden crossbar securing the stable door. He seemed to put all his weight against the door, but it didn’t budge. Setting down her shovel, she said, “Here. Maybe if we both…”

“Can’t hurt.”

Together they pushed. One inch. Then two. She peeped outside and couldn’t believe her eyes. Even though she’d struggled through the storm last night, there was nothing visible but the glare of white snow, glistening almost to her eye level. She swallowed the lump in her throat. Her heart pounded as the reality of their situation hit her. “We’re stuck. We can’t get out.” She tried to keep the panic from sounding in her voice but failed.

“I’ll climb up into the loft. We can lower ourselves on the rope. Get out that way. Damn good thing I pulled it in last night after bringing you inside.”

She nodded slowly. He sounded so self-assured, so positive his plan would work. Who was this Jared Fields who had a solution for every obstacle? How did a man from the East, a mere financial advisor, become so adept at survival? Who was he really?

If the simple answer was that he was the man who’d saved her life, then questioning his motives served no purpose. His reasons would only count once their ordeal was over. For now, survival was all that mattered.

“There’s a ladder over there,” she said, pointing toward the back of the stable.

“Right.” He gave a quick nod. “Saw it earlier.”

He picked up the ladder and propped it on the loft ledge, then grabbed up the bale of rope and began to climb. “What’re you waiting for,” he said over his shoulder, “an invitation?”

She stuck her tongue out at him and stepped onto the ladder. “You’re in my way,
Señor
Fields. Move it.”

“The shovels? Bring the shovels, Natalia.”

“
Sí
,
señor
.
Jefe
.” She jumped from the ladder and grabbed up the two shovels.

“Now see if I’m getting in your way.” He climbed slowly but with a grin.

“I shall wait until you are in the loft and will hand you one of the shovels; then I’ll come up with the second.” She gave him her sweetest smile. Now that they were both encumbered with the weight of the equipment they’d need to dig themselves a trench back to the house, the bucket of milk would have to wait for the next trip. In the cold, it would remain fresh. More likely, it would freeze before they returned later that evening.

Indeed, they would be lucky if they didn’t freeze as well. The thought of dying from the cold sent a shiver down her spine. She’d already come so close.

Jared walked to the front of the hayloft and opened the gable door. The wind was still blowing from the northeast, and even though the front of the stable faced the southwest, a tremendous amount of snow had drifted in front of the stable. He shook his head. How the hell would they ever make it back to the house before dark? From his vantage point, he could just make out the faint shadow of the long adobe house. Maybe he ought to leave Talia in the stable where she’d be safe enough for the day or so it would take to clear a trench.

No, with two of them working, it wouldn’t take as long. If they didn’t make the house before nightfall, they could return to the stable through the cleared portion of the path. Damn him for a fool, but the thought of spending another night in her arms was
mighty appealing.

“Hey,
vaquero
! I need some help.”

Grinning at her playful tone, he turned and saw Talia peeping over the loft floor. Quickly closing the distance between them, he took the shovel she held and tossed it to the side. “Here you go,” he said. He thrust his hand forward, grabbed her wrist and hauled her into the loft.

“
Muchas gracias
.” She smiled up at him, her dark, doe eyes glowing with good humor. Frankly, she made his knees weak and set his heart to hammering faster than it ought. He shook his head. This wasn’t the time… “Best get a move on,” he said with his gruffest tone. “This is going be the hardest work you’ve ever done.”

The lady snorted in a most unladylike manner. “Like
you’ve
dug yourself out of a blizzard before?”

He glanced over his shoulder toward the gable door. “I have, but not like this one.”

“Hmph. I grew up here. I’ve seen bad snowstorms before.” She strutted confidently over to the loft gable door.

He nodded. “Right.” The denim trousers suited her slender body, showing off the very curves he’d grown familiar with the night before, but then he heard a gasp as she peered out the door.

She turned to him, her eyes wide with alarm. “
Dios
! This
is
the worst I’ve ever seen.”

“Yeah.” He set to tying one end of the rope bale to an upright support beam. “I’ll go down first and clear the snow from the doorway. Otherwise, we won’t be able to get back in. Unless you want to shinny up the rope twice a day?” He motioned with a hand-over-hand gesture.

“No, but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t.” Hands on hips, she planted her feet wide and jutted her chin.

“Right. But stubbornness will take you only so far.”

“You may scoff, but in spite of my delicate and ladylike appearance, I’m strong. Before my marriage, I worked the hacienda alongside my father’s men.”

“I don’t doubt it, but you lived a pampered existence as Montrose’s wife for eight years.”

Her lips pursed. “Pampered—hardly. More like restricted.”

“My point.” He wanted to kiss her pouty mouth, but that would only delay their digging out. “Come on.” He tugged on the rope, testing the strength. “That should hold.”

His breath hung in the air. A hard shiver passed through his body. Colder than it was last night. Damn, they needed to get back to a substantial shelter. And fast. He walked over to the gable door and tossed the rope bale onto the snow. It sank into the drifts. No time like the present.

With Talia peeking over his shoulder, he said, “Wait until I’m on the ground, then toss me the shovels. You can follow me after that.”

She nodded her agreement, then said, “Be careful. I’m not very good at setting broken bones.”

“Hmph.” He inventoried her slight frame. Her raven-black hair was pulled back and bound with a length of twine, her eyes bright with excitement. In spite of all her claims of strength, and while the woman might be a demanding tiger in bed, she was slender and carried an air of fragility about her. Yet he’d felt her strength. Enjoyed it to the fullest. Mouth suddenly dry, he swallowed. “Worry about your own bones.” His words came out with a rasp and sounded gruffer than he intended.

Damn. She was getting to him on a level he’d never expected. Never wanted. Without another word, he took the rope in his gloved hands, then sat on the floor with his feet and legs outside the gable door. Wrapping his legs around the rope, he eased outside. The wind buffeted his body around, knocking him into the side of the stable. Son of a bitch. He grunted, then started working his way down the rope.

As soon as his boots reached the level of the snow, he released his hold on the rope, dropping into a chest-high drift. He struggled and kept on his feet. “Okay, throw ’em down.” He ducked as she tossed one shovel then the other a little too close to his head. “Trying to kill me?”

Her response was a light-hearted giggle. Guess she still didn’t realize how much trouble they were in—deepest shit.

“Watch out!” she called, then launched from the gable, sliding down the rope as nimbly as if she’d done it every day of her life.

Jared grabbed the rope to stabilize it and keep the wind from slamming her into the side of the stable. He caught her around the waist and set her on her feet.

She smiled up at him, her dark eyes shining with mischief. “
Gracias
.” She pulled the heavy coat tighter and gave a visible shiver. “Brr. It’s really cold—worse than I thought.”

He shook his head and handed her a shovel. “No time to waste or we’ll be spending another night in the stable.”

She took the shovel, gazing at him over the handle. “Now that wouldn’t be so bad—would it?” Her dark lashes fluttered. “All in all, I was very comfortable”—she paused, then added—“in your arms.”

“Talia, cut it out.” He turned from her and attacked the drift in front of the stable. “First…things…first.” He shoveled, emphasizing each word. “Clear enough to open the door and squeeze through.”

“
Sí, jefe
.” Her shoulders drooped, but finally she put her shovel to furious use, sending snow flying everywhere.

“Pace yourself,” he warned. “Might not make it all the way to the ranch house today.” His stomach rumbled, reminding him neither of them had eaten since dinner the night before. Another night in the stable would mean another twenty-four hours without anything but fresh milk, but he’d much rather get Talia back to the house.

Chapter Eight

“Really?” Natalia’s stomach growled. “I’m starving.”

He glared over his shoulder. “If you hadn’t been so damned determined to venture out into the storm, you could’ve remained inside, reasonably warm and well-fed.”

“You
ordered
me to stay inside. I don’t like being ordered to do anything. Besides, I was worried…and everything turned out all right, didn’t it?” If “all right” meant the fucking of her life, then yes, indeed it had. She smiled up at him, feeling her cheeks grow warm from the memory of his lovemaking.

“Shovel. Now.”

She bit back an equally abrupt response and set her back to tackling the deep snow. Apparently,
he
had a short memory. Last night meant nothing to him. Why would it? She was just a lonely widow he most likely intended to separate from her money. And what was he to her? Nothing more than a welcome respite from the neglect and disdain to which she’d become accustomed as the wife of Reginald Cabot Montrose.