A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing (7 page)

Then she spotted her shepherd. “There he is,” she said to Nathan, pointing at a white-bearded old man slumped at a table not too far from the stairs.

Nathan swore under his breath. In order to get to the shepherd, he had to get past the two men at the foot of the stairs. He turned to Harry-et. “Wait for me outside.”

Harry started to object, but the fierce look in Nathan's eyes brooked no refusal. Reluctantly she
turned and edged back along the wall toward the door. She never made it.

“Why, hello there, little lady. What brings you here tonight?”

The cowboy had put one hand, which held a beer bottle, up along the wall to stop her. When she turned to face him, he braced his palm on the other side of her, effectively trapping her.

“I was just leaving,” Harry said, trying to duck under his arm.

He grabbed her sleeve, and she heard a seam rip as he pushed her back against the wall. “Not so fast, darlin'.”

Harry's eyes darted toward Nathan. He had just slipped his hands under the drunken shepherd's arms and was lifting him out of his chair. She couldn't bear the thought of shouting for help, drawing the attention of everyone in the bar. So she tried again to handle the cowboy by herself. “Look,” she said, “I just came here to find someone—”

“Hell, little lady, you found me. Here I am.”

Before Harry realized what he was going to do, the cowboy had pressed the full length of his body against her to hold her to the wall and sought her mouth with his.

She jerked her face from side to side to avoid his slobbering kisses. “Stop! Don't! I—”

An instant later the cowboy was decorating the
floor and Nathan was standing beside her, eyes dark, nostrils flared, a vision of outrage. “The lady doesn't care for your attentions,” he said to the burly cowboy. “I suggest you find someone who does.”

The cowboy dragged himself up off the ground, still holding the neck of the beer bottle, which had broken off when he'd fallen. He recognized Nathan for a sheepman, which magnified the insult to his dignity. With all eyes on him there was no way he could back down. “Find your own woman,” he blustered. “I saw her first.”

“Nathan, please, don't start anything,” Harry begged.

Nathan took his eyes off the other man for a second to glance at Harry, and the cowboy charged.

“Nathan!” Harry screamed.

Nathan's hand came up to stop the downward arc of the hand holding the broken bottle, while his fist found the cowboy's gut. The cowboy bent over double, and Nathan straightened him with a fist to the chin. The man crumpled to the floor, out cold.

Nathan looked up to find that pandemonium had broken out in the bar. He grabbed Harry's wrist. “Let's get out of here.”

“Not without my shepherd.”

“Are you crazy, woman? There's a fight going on.”

“I'm not leaving without my shepherd!”

Nathan dodged a flying chair to reach the drunken man he'd left sitting against the wall. He picked the man up, threw him over his shoulder fireman-style and marched back through the melee to Harry. “Are you satisfied?”

Harry grinned. “Now I am.”

Nathan grabbed her wrist with his free hand, and glaring at anyone foolish enough to get in his way, was soon standing outside in front of Whitey's. He dumped the shepherd none too gently into the back of his pickup and ordered Harry to get in.

She hurried to obey him.

Nathan took out his fury at Harry-et on the truck, gunning the engine, only to have to slam on the brakes when he caught the red light at the corner. He raced the engine several times and made the tires squeal when he took off as the light turned green.

“Did that bastard hurt you?” he demanded through tight lips.

“I'm all right,” Harry said soothingly. “I'm fine, Nathan. Nothing happened.”

“You had no business being there in the first place. You should have stayed home.”

“I had as much right to be there as you. More right,” she argued. “It was my shepherd we went after.”

“You and your damned shepherd. The greenest
greenhorn would know not to pay the man in advance. This whole business tonight was your fault.”

“I didn't do anything,” Harry protested.

“You were there. That was enough. If I hadn't been there—”

“But you were,” Harry said. “And you were wonderful.”

That shut him up. How could you complain when a woman was calling you wonderful? But if anything had happened to her… Nathan had known his feelings toward Harry-et were possessive, but he hadn't known until tonight that she was
his woman.
Woe be unto the man who harmed the tiniest hair on her head.

Nathan shook his head in disbelief. He hadn't been involved in one of Whitey's barroom brawls since he'd been a very brash young man. If this evening was any indication of what he had in store as the manager of Cyrus's ranch, he had a long, hot summer ahead of him.

As they pulled up in front of Cyrus's cabin, Harry said, “If you'll leave my shepherd in the sheep barn, I'll do what I can to sober him up.”

“I'll take him home with me,” Nathan countered. “I'm sure my housekeeper has some Native American remedy that'll do the trick. We'll be back here bright and early tomorrow morning. Think
you can stay in a Western saddle long enough to help us drive your sheep into the mountains?”

“I rode hunters and jumpers in Virginia.”

Nathan shook his head in disgust. “I should have known. All right. I'll be here at dawn. Be ready.”

Harry stepped down out of the truck and started toward the house. An instant later she ran back around the truck and gestured for Nathan to open his window.

“I just wanted to thank you again.” She leaned over and kissed him flush on the mouth. “You were really wonderful.” Then she turned and ran into the cabin.

Nathan waited until he saw the lights go on before he gunned the engine and took off down the rutted road. Before he'd gone very far he reached up to touch his lips where she'd kissed him. There was still a bit of dampness there, and he touched it with his tongue. And tasted her. His lips turned up in a smile.

He felt as if he could move mountains.

He felt as if he could soar in the sky.

He felt like a damn fool in love.

He felt really wonderful.

H
arry had aches where she'd forgotten she had muscles. She knew how to ride, but that didn't mean she'd done much riding lately. Her back, thighs and buttocks could attest to that. But she'd accomplished what she'd set out that morning to do. Her flock of sheep had been moved up into the leased mountain pastures, and the wiry old
shepherd had been settled in his camp with a stern warning to keep a sharp eye out for wolves.

Harry was doing the same thing herself. Actually, she was keeping a sharp eye out for one particular wolf. Nathan Hazard had been acting strangely all day. Silent. Predatory. He hadn't done anything overtly aggressive. In fact, he seemed to be playing some sort of game, stalking her, waiting for the moment when he could make his move. Her nerves were beginning to fray.

After the fracas of the previous evening, Harry hadn't expected Nathan to be enthusiastic about joining her on this mountain pilgrimage. Nor was he. But at least he hadn't said a word about what had happened in Whitey's Bar. Of course, he hadn't said much of anything. Harry had been determined not to provoke him in any way, so she'd kept her aches and pains to herself. Was it any wonder she'd leaped at Nathan's suggestion that they halt their trek halfway down the mountain and take a rest? She had to bite her lip to keep from groaning aloud when she dismounted, but she was so stiff and sore that her knees nearly buckled when she put her weight on them.

Nathan heard Harry-et's gasp and turned to watch her grab the horn of the saddle and hang on for a few moments until her legs were firmly under her. He had to hand it to the woman. She was determined. He couldn't help admiring her
gumption. Nathan had suspected for some time that Harry-et was feeling the effects of the long ride. That had suited him just fine. He'd had plans of his own that depended on getting her off that horse while they were still in the mountains. They had reached Nyla's Meadow. The time had come.

He spread a family heirloom quilt in the cool shade of some jack pines and straightened the edges over the layer of rich grass that graced the mountain meadow. At the last moment he rescued a handful of flowers that were about to be crushed, bringing them to Harry-et.

“Here. Thought you might like these.”

Harry smiled and reached out a hand for the delicate blossoms. She brought them to her nose and was surprised at the pungent sweetness of the colorful bouquet. “They smell wonderful.”

“Thought you also might like to lie down for a while here on Nyla's Meadow,” Nathan said nonchalantly, gesturing toward the inviting square of material.

Harry wasted no time sagging down onto the quilt. She groaned again, but it was a sound of satisfaction as she stretched out flat on her back. “You have no idea how good this feels.”

He settled himself cross-legged on a corner of the quilt near her head. “Don't guess I do. But if you moan any louder some moose is going to come courting.”

Harry laughed. “I'll try to keep it down.” She turned on her side and braced her head on her elbow, surveying the grassy, flower-laden clearing among the pines and junipers. “Nyla's Meadow. That sounds so beautiful. Almost poetical. How did this place get its name?”

Nathan's lips twisted wryly. “It's a pretty far-fetched story, but if you'd like to hear it—”

“Yes, I would.” Harry tried sitting up, but groaned and lay back down. “Guess I've stiffened up a little.” She massaged the nape of her neck. “Make that a lot.”

“I'd be glad to give your shoulders a rubdown.”

That sounded awfully good to Harry. “Would you?”

“Sure. Turn over on your stomach.”

A moment later Nathan was straddling her at the waist and his powerful hands had found the knots in her shoulders and were working magic. “You have no idea how good that feels,” she said with another groan of pleasure.

Nathan's lips curled into a satisfied smile. Oh, yes, he did. He longed for the time when there would be nothing between his fingertips and her skin. It seemed like he'd been waiting his whole life for this woman. He didn't plan to wait much longer.

Harry felt the strength in Nathan's hands, yet his touch was a caress. A frisson of excitement ran
the length of her spine. She imagined her naked body molded to Nathan's. Joined to Nathan's. Harry closed her eyes against the vivid picture she'd painted. She had no business thinking such thoughts. The sheepman only wanted her land. He'd as much as told her she wasn't the woman for him. Last night certainly couldn't have convinced him she'd be the kind of wife he had in mind. No, the minute she'd learned all she could from him, she intended to bid him a fast farewell.

So why was her body coming alive to his touch? Why did she yearn for his hands to slip around and cup her breasts, to mold her waist and stroke the taut and achy places that had nothing to do with the long ride of the morning? Harry tensed against the unwelcome, uncontrollable sensations deep inside.

“Relax,” Nathan murmured as his hands slipped down from her shoulders to the small of her back and began to massage the soreness away.

“Tell me about Nyla's Meadow,” Harry said breathlessly.

Nathan's thumbs slowly worked their way up her spine, easing, soothing, relaxing. “Nyla was an Egyptian princess.”

Harry lifted herself on her hands and turned to eye Nathan over her shoulder. “What?”

Nathan shoved her back down. “Actually, the princess's name was N-I-L-A, after the Nile River,
but somewhere over the years the spelling got changed.”

“How did a Montana meadow get named after an Egyptian princess?” Harry asked suspiciously.

“Be quiet and listen and I'll tell you. Long before the first settlers came to the Boulder River Valley, a mountain man named Joshua Simmons arrived here. He'd traveled the world over just for the pleasure of seeing a new horizon, or so the story goes. He'd been to Egypt and China and the South Sea islands. But when he reached Montana, he knew he'd found God's country—limitless blue skies, snowcapped mountains and grassy prairies as far as the eye could see.”

“You're making this up, aren't you?” Harry said with a grin.

“Shut up and listen,” Nathan insisted. His hands moved down Harry's back to her waist and around to her ribs, where they skimmed the fullness of her breasts at the sides before moving back to her spine.

Harry shivered. She would have asked Nathen to stop what he was doing, but his hands were there and gone before she could speak. The sensations remained. And the ache grew.

“When Joshua reached this meadow, he encountered a Native maiden,” Nathan continued. “She appeared as exotic to him, as foreign and mystical, as an Egyptian princess.”

“The Princess Nila,” Harry murmured sardonically.

“Right. They fell in love at first sight. And made love that same day here on the meadow. When he awoke, the maiden—though she was a maiden no more—was gone. Joshua never learned her name and he never saw her again. But he never forgot her. He named this place Nyla's Meadow after the Egyptian princess she had reminded him of.”

Harry shifted abruptly so her buttocks rocked against Nathan. He felt his loins tighten and rose slightly to put some space between the heat of their two bodies.

Oblivious to Nathan's difficulties, Harry rolled over between his legs and scooted far enough away to sit up facing him. He was still straddling her at thigh level.

She pulled the band off one braid and began to unravel it, seemingly unconscious of the effect her action would have on Nathan. “So Nyla's Meadow is a place for falling in love? A place where lovers meet?”

Nathan swallowed hard. “Yes. A place for lovers.” He couldn't take his eyes off Harry-et. Her gaze was lambent, her pupils dilated, her lids lowered. She was clearly aroused, yet her mood seemed almost playful, as though she didn't realize the powerful need she'd unleashed within him.

When Harry started to free her other braid, Nathan reached out a hand. “I'll do it.”

Her hands dropped onto his thighs. And slid upward.

Nathan hissed in a breath and put his hands over hers to keep them from moving any farther. There was no need for her to actually touch him. The mere thought of her hands on him excited him. He slid her hands back down his thighs, away from the part of him that desperately wanted her touch. When he was relatively sure he'd made his position clear, he let her hands go and reached for the other braid.

Her hair was soft and rippled where the tight braids had left their mark. When both braids were unraveled, he thrust his hands into her rich brown hair and spread the silky mass around her head and shoulders like a nimbus. “You are so beautiful, Harry-et.”

Harry hadn't meant to let the game go so far. She hadn't realized just how aroused Nathan was. She hadn't realized how the sight of his desire would increase her own. She wanted to see what would happen next. She wanted to feel what she had always imagined she would feel in a lover's embrace. Her hands once again followed the corded muscles along Nathan's thighs until she reached the part of him that strained against the
worn denim. She molded the shape of him with her hands, awed by the heat and hardness of him.

Nathan closed his eyes and bit the inside of his mouth to keep from groaning aloud. The sweetness of it. The agony and the ecstasy of it. “Harry-et,” he gasped. “Do you know what you're doing?”

“No,” she replied. “But I'm learning fast.”

Choked laughter erupted from Nathan's throat. At the same time he grabbed her by her wrists and lowered her to the ground, pinning her hands above either side of her head. He stretched out over the length of her, placing his hips in the cradle of her thighs. “That's what you're doing, lady,” he said in a guttural voice, thrusting once with his hips. “I want you, Harry-et.”

Harry heard the slight hesitation between the two syllables as he spoke her name that made the word an endearment. He wanted her, but he hadn't spoken of needing, or caring. Maybe that was as it should be. Alistairs and Hazards were never meant to love. History was against it. She wanted him, too. Wasn't that enough?

The decision was made for her when Nathan captured both her wrists in one hand and reached down between the two of them to caress the heart of her with the other. She felt herself arching to ward him, toward the new and unbelievable sensations of pleasure.

Nathan caught her cries of ecstasy with his
mouth. His kisses were urgent, needful. He let go of her wrists because he needed his hand to touch her, to caress her. When he did, Harry's fingers thrust into Nathan's hair and tugged to keep him close, so she could kiss him back. Her hands slipped down to caress his chest through his shirt, but the cotton was in her way. She yanked on his shirt and the snaps came free. She quickly helped him peel the shirt down off his shoulders. Just as quickly he freed the buttons of her shirt and stripped it off, along with her bra.

An instant later they paused and stared at each other.

Harry had seen Nathan's muscular chest once before and wanted to touch. Now she indulged that need. Her fingertips traced the crease down the center of his chest to his washboard belly.

Nathan had imagined her naked a dozen, dozen times, but still had failed to see her as beautiful as she was. Her breasts were full and the nipples a rose color that drew his eye, his callused fingers and finally his mouth.

Harry's fingernails drew crescents on Nathan's shoulders as his mouth and tongue suckled her breast. She arched toward him, urging him to take more of her into his mouth. He cupped her breast with his hand and let his mouth surround her, while his teeth and tongue turned her nipple into a hard bud.

Harry moaned. Her body arched into his, her softness seeking his hardness.

“Please.” She didn't know what came next. She'd always stopped in the past before she got this far. Only this time she didn't want to stop. She wanted to know how it ended.

“It's all right, sweetheart,” he murmured in her ear. “Soon. Soon.”

“Now, Nathan. Now.”

He sat up and pulled off her boots, then began pulling off his own. They both rid themselves of their jeans in record time. Nathan threw his jeans aside, then went searching for them a moment later. He ransacked the pockets, cursing as he went.

“Did you forget something?” Harry asked.

Nathan grinned as his fisted hand withdrew from his jeans pocket. “Nope.”

Suddenly Harry was aware of her nakedness. And Nathan's. He looked awfully big. Not that she had anything to compare him with, but surely that thing was too large to fit…

“What's the matter, Harry-et?” Nathan said as he lay down beside her and pulled her into his embrace.

“Nothing,” she mumbled against his chest.

“Having second thoughts?” Nathan held his breath, wondering why he was giving her a chance to back away when he wanted her so much that he was hurting.

Harry had opened her mouth to suggest maybe this wasn't such a good idea when Nathan's lips closed over hers. His tongue traced the edges of her mouth and then slipped inside, warm and wet. Seducing. Entrancing. Changing her mind all over again.

“Hold this for me,” he said. “I need both hands free.”

“What is it?” she asked through a haze of euphoria.

He quickly removed the foil packet and dropped a condom into her palm.

“Oh. Dear.” Harry was unable to keep from blurting something she'd read in a magazine article. “It's Mr. Prophylactic. The guy with the cute little button nose.”

Nathan burst out laughing.

Harry blushed a fiery red. Thank goodness Nathan still had his sense of humor. Maybe this wasn't going to be so impossible, after all. Her relief was premature.