Heart of Ice (12 page)

“I have to find out some things about calving,” she protested.

“Do you? What do you want to know?” he asked with a wicked smile.

“Oh, stuff your hat…!” she began.

“Now, now, you mustn’t shock me,” he told her as he got out of the truck. “I’m just an unsophisticated country boy, you know.”

“Like hell,” she muttered under her breath.

He opened her door and lifted her into his arms.
She started to struggle, but he held her implacably and shook his head.

“Don’t fight,” he said. “We’ve spent days avoiding each other. I just want to hold you.”

She felt a rush of feeling that should have made her run screaming the other way. But instead, she put her arms—pad and pen and all—around his neck and let him carry her. By the time he got to the steps, her face was buried in his warm throat and her heartbeat was shaking her.

“We haven’t made love since we were in New York,” he whispered as he carried her into his study and deliberately locked the door behind him.

She felt her lips go dry as she looked up at him. He was taking off his hat and coat, and the way he was staring at her made her feel threatened.

“No more games, Katriane,” he said softly. He took away the pad and pen, and, bending, took off her warm coat and dropped it beside his on the chair. He lifted her off the floor. “I won’t hurt you. But I’ve gone hungry too long.”

There would never be a better time to tell him the truth. But just as she started to, he bent and pressed his open mouth against the peak of her breast. She cried out, shocked speechless at the intimacy of it even through two layers of cloth.

He didn’t say a word. She felt him lower her, felt the soft pile of a rug under her back. And then his body was spreading over hers like a heavy blanket,
making fires that blazed up and burned in exquisite torment.

His mouth moved up to hers, taking it with a power and masculine possessiveness that she’d never felt before. She wasn’t even aware of what his hands were doing until he lifted her and she felt the slight chill of the room and the heat of the blazing fire in the hearth on her bare flesh.

“Egan,” she protested shakily as he laid her back down.

“God, you’re something!” he breathed, looking down with wild, glittering eyes on what he’d uncovered. His hands went to the buttons on his shirt and unfastened them slowly, methodically. He pulled the shirt free of his jeans and stripped it off, revealing bronzed skin that shimmered smoothly in the light of the fire.

Her eyes fastened on him hungrily, loving every rugged line of him, wanting the feel of his hard muscles against her own trembling softness.

There was only the crackle of the fire as they looked at each other, only its reddish glow in the room. She knew what he was going to do, but she was powerless to stop him. She loved him. Oh, God, she loved him!

He came down slowly, easing his chest over hers by levering himself over her on his arms. His eyes held hers every second as he brushed his chest against her taut breasts and watched the wild, sweet surge of her body upward to make the contact even closer.

“Don’t hold anything back with me,” he said under his breath. “And I’ll please you until you scream with it.”

His mouth eased down as his chest did, and she reached up to catch his head in her hands, tangle her fingers in his hair while he kissed the breath from her swollen mouth.

She experienced her own power when she felt the tremor in his long body; and without thinking about consequences, she tugged his head up and shifted to bring his lips down to the bareness of her body.

“Kati!” he burst out as if she’d surprised him, and he dug his hands in under her back. His mouth opened, and she felt his tongue, his teeth at flesh that had never even known a man’s eyes.

Her body rippled in his arms, on waves of sweetness, and she moaned as his mouth learned every smooth inch of her above the waist. He rolled suddenly onto his back, bringing her with him, and she felt his hands going under the waistband of her jeans onto the softness of her lower spine.

“Look at me,” he said in a husky tone.

She lifted her head just as his clean, strong hands contracted, and he smiled at the hunger he could read in her eyes.

He nipped her earlobe with his teeth and whispered things that excited and shocked, all at once, embarrassing things that she’d only read until that moment.

“Egan,” she protested weakly.

“Just relax,” he whispered, bringing her hips back against his in a slow, sweet rotation. “Let me show you how much I want you.”

He ground her hips into the powerful, taut muscles of his own. She cried out as he freed one hand to bring her shaking mouth down onto his, thrusting his tongue up into it in a rhythm that said more than words.

“My room,” he whispered. “Right now.”

He rolled her over and handed her the blouse and sweater he had taken off her minutes before. “You’d better put those on,” he said in a taut undertone. “In case Dessie’s still up.”

She clutched the cool things to her, staring at him like someone coming out of a trance.

“Well?” he ground out. “My God, you felt what you’ve done to me. I need you, damn it!”

She swallowed, trying to find the right words. “I need you too, Egan,” she said shakily. “But there’s something you’d…you’d better know first.”

“What? That you aren’t on the Pill?” he demanded. “It’s all right, I’ll take care of it. I won’t let you get pregnant.”

She blushed and lowered her eyes to the jerky rise and fall of his chest. Her fingers tightened on the shirt and sweater. “I’m a virgin.”

“My God, that’s a good one.” He laughed coldly. “Try again.”

“I don’t have to,” she said, trying to hold on to
her pride and her self-respect, both of which were slipping. “I’ve told you the truth.”

“Sure, I’m a virgin, too,” he told her. “Now can we go to bed?”

“Go right ahead,” she said with venom in her tone. “But without me! Didn’t you hear what I said, damn you, I’m a virgin!”

“At twenty-five?” he asked in a biting tone. “Writing the kind of books you write?”

“I’ve told you until I’m blue in the face that I don’t research those love scenes—most of which are foreplay with a hint of fulfillment!” She flushed, avoiding his eyes. “And some of that is obligatory—I can’t get historical fiction published without it. And as for men…” she added, lifting her face to glare at him, “…most of them have felt as you do, that a woman’s place in the modern world is to be available for sex and then disappear before anyone gets emotional. I can’t live like that, so I don’t indulge.”

“Never?” he burst out.

“Never!” she returned. “Egan, didn’t Ada ever tell you about my parents?”

His breathing was steadier now, but he still looked frustrated and full of venom. “That they were old?”

She took another steadying breath of her own. “My father was a Presbyterian minister,” she whispered. “And my mother had been a missionary. Now do you understand?”

He looked as if he’d been slapped. His eyes went
over her, right down to the fingers that trembled on her discarded top. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he ground out. “My God, the things I said to you…!”

He got to his feet and grabbed up his shirt, shouldering angrily into it. “Get out of here,” he said coldly.

She managed to get to her feet gracefully, pausing as she tried to decide between running for it and dressing first.

“Put on your blouse, for heaven’s sake!” he snapped, and turned away again to light a cigarette with jerky motions.

She put on the blouse and pulled the sweater on over it without ever fastening a button. She couldn’t even look at him as she walked toward the door. Her fingers fumbled with the lock, and when she pulled the door open, he still hadn’t turned or said a word. She closed it quietly behind her with trembling fingers and went upstairs as quickly as she could. When she was safely in her room, with her own door locked, she burst into tears.

Chapter Ten

I
t was the most agonizing night Kati remembered spending. Egan had bruised her emotions in ways she hadn’t dreamed possible. Rejecting her was enough of a blow. But couldn’t he have done it gently? She cringed, thinking of the way he’d been, the things he’d said until she confessed. Ada had warned her. Why hadn’t she listened?

Worst of all was the fact that she’d been more than ready to give in to anything he wanted of her. She’d wanted him to know the truth because he was so hungry that she was afraid of being hurt the first time. But her revelation had backfired. Instead of comforting her, he ordered her out of the room and turned his back.

Well, at least she knew how he really felt now, she told herself miserably. She knew that he’d only wanted her, and there was no feeling on his part except desire. She couldn’t remember ever hurting so much. She loved him. What she’d felt in his hard, expert embrace was something she’d never get over. But he’d turned away as if such devastating interludes were just run-of-the-mill. To him, they probably were. With good-time girls like Jennie.

She got up well before daylight. She packed quickly and dressed in her boots and jeans and a burgundy sweater. She decided to go downstairs and have breakfast, and make sure Egan had left the house before she called a cab. It was eight o’clock, and he was usually long gone by then. She didn’t know how she could face him if he was still there, not after last night. It made her color, just remembering the things they’d done together.

Her footsteps slowed as she reached the kitchen. She pushed the door open part way and found Dessie puttering around the stove. With a sigh of relief, she pushed it open the rest of the way and came face to face with Egan, who was just behind it picking up his hat from the counter.

She actually jumped aside. He looked down at her with an expression she couldn’t read. His eyes were dark silver, cold, angry.

“I want to talk to you for a minute,” he said curtly.

He didn’t give her a chance to protest. He propelled
her through the door and down the hall to the living room. He shut the door behind them and stared hard at her.

“Before you start,” she said in a painfully subdued tone, “I realize it was all my fault, and I’m sorry.”

He pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it, his fingers steady. “We won’t talk about last night,” he said. “Stay the week out, finish your research. If you run off this morning, you’ll just upset Dessie and Ada.”

“What do you mean, if I run off?” she countered defensively.

“Aren’t your bags packed already?” he asked, lifting his head at an arrogant angle.

Damn his perception, she thought furiously, turning her eyes to the curtained windows. “Yes,” she snapped.

“Then unpack them. You came here, obviously, for a different reason than I brought you,” he said with the old, familiar mockery. “Since your work is obviously so important, by all means indulge yourself. Just stay out of the bunkhouse after dark. We’ve got a couple of new men that I don’t know well.”

“The only people I really need to talk to are Gig and Ramey,” she told him with what dignity she could muster. “Would you mind if I asked them up to the house?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he shot back through a cloud
of smoke. “I don’t play the master around here. The men are always welcome.”

“I didn’t mean it that way,” she said. She wrapped her arms around her. “Please don’t hate me, Egan.”

He stood, breathing slowly, deliberately, while his eyes accused. “You knew why I invited you here, Kati,” he said after a minute, and his manner was colder than the snow outside. “I didn’t make any secret of wanting you. I assumed you felt the same way.”

Her eyes lowered to his shirtfront. “I thought I could go through with it,” she confessed. “But, last night—” She swallowed. “I was afraid that if I didn’t tell you the truth, you’d hurt me.”

He made an odd noise deep in his throat and turned away, smoking his cigarette quietly while the clock on the mantel ticked with unnatural loudness.

“I told you once that I like my women experienced. I meant it. I have no taste whatsoever for virgins.” He took another harsh draw from the cigarette and moved restlessly around the room, oblivious to her slight flinch. “You’re safe for the duration, Miss James,” he said finally, glaring at her. “I wouldn’t touch you now to save this ranch.”

She would have died before she’d let him see how much that hurt. Her face lifted with what pride she had left. “I won’t get in your way,” she promised quietly.

“Well, that’s comforting,” he said sarcastically, and with a smile she didn’t like.

Her arms tightened where she had them folded over her breasts. “If that’s all, I’d like to have some coffee.”

“Help yourself.”

She left him, her heart around her ankles. It had been better when she hated him, when she didn’t have the memory of his hungry ardor to haunt her. But he’d closed all the doors just now, and there wouldn’t be any openings again. He’d as much as said so. Virgins didn’t interest him.

She laughed miserably to herself. At least he hadn’t guessed that she was in love with him. He hadn’t understood that she couldn’t have given herself without loving, and that was a blessing. She’d finish her research and get out of there. And once she did, she never wanted to see Egan again. It would be too painful.

For the rest of the day, she went through the motions of living without really feeling much of anything. Dessie noticed, but was kind enough not to say anything.

Finally, faced with imminent insanity or work, Kati chose work. She got out the portable computer and began to write, putting all her frustrations and irritations down on paper in a letter to Egan telling him just what she thought of him. She read it over and then erased every word from the screen without ever having fed it to her printer. She felt much better. Then she began work on the book.

Somehow, writing took all the venom out of
her. She created without knowing how she did it, watching the characters unfold on paper, feeling the life-force in them even as she put the words down. When she looked at the clock, she realized that she’d been working for hours. She put the information on tape and then ran it off on the printer for hard copy. After a shower, she went downstairs to see if she could help Dessie with supper.