Jane Bonander (14 page)

She felt drugged. Hypnotized. He pressed her palm to his lips, grazing it with his tongue, making gestures with it that suggested something indecent, for her nether regions tingled, the response rousingly naughty.

She swallowed hard, wrenching her gaze away. “Let me go.” She was breathless and anxious, and her knees felt like raw bread dough.

He moved her hand to his throat, down over his chest to just below his left nipple. His skin was smooth, drawn tight over the potent brawn. Her lips were level with his neck, and she saw the pulse at the base. She doubted it was pounding as erratically as her own.

“Can you feel it?” he asked, his question rife with primitive suggestion.

“Feel what?” The words came out on a breath that even she had trouble hearing.

He rubbed her hand in a circle around his nipple. “The beating of my heart, dear wife.”

She tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let go. “Everyone has a heartbeat, McCloud.”

He pressed harder, and she did, indeed, feel his heart drumming in his chest. “But mine beats for you,” he murmured.

She yanked her hand away. “That’s nonsense.” But it was a thought that warmed her clear to her toes. “Now, go away, McCloud, and let me finish drying off before I freeze my—”

He gave her a suggestive grin. “Before you freeze your pretty ass?”

“You are depraved, McCloud.” She meant it, too, even though she was aroused by the crude word.

He gave her an innocent look. “Depraved and deprived.”

His meaning wasn’t lost on her. “I’m glad you agree, now get
out.”

He grinned. “There’s a fire in the fireplace. You’d better not go to bed wet and slippery.” He tugged lightly at the towel, then sauntered out of the room with all the arrogance of a rooster in a henhouse.

Her body throbbed. Blast him! Why did a perfectly innocent string of words have to come out sounding like a seduction? She wrapped the towel around her and waited to hear his bedroom door close, then scurried into her room, checked on the baby, and pulled on a clean nightgown.

It wasn’t until she was brushing her hair in front of the fire that she remembered he’d found her asleep in the tub. No doubt he’d stood there, gawking like a fool. Her body betrayed her, sending tingly messages up between her thighs.

She stopped brushing, rose from the sofa and walked toward her room. She hoped that’s how he’d reacted, for if he’d stood there and compared her to all the women he’d had in his lifetime, she thought, she’d come up lacking.

Wolf sat at the kitchen table with a glass of whiskey, ignoring the coffee on the stove behind him. He kept his gaze on the window, eyeing the remnants of the barn, now a smoky heap of rubble. Lightning? He was skeptical. It was possible, but how likely?

He shook his head and stood, sneering at his suspicious mind. He went to the window and stared out at the wreckage, his thoughts turning to Julia and the loss of the mare. Her reaction had affected him like nothing he’d experienced before. He felt compassion. Sympathy. A rush of tenderness so foreign to him, he cursed out loud. Never had he felt so deeply for someone else. Never.

Life was so damned unfair. It hadn’t been that long since Amos died, and now this. And losing a healthy, pregnant mare was like throwing money into the fire. He was sure Julia hadn’t thought about the financial loss, but he had. Hell, it was his first thought.

Hearing a noise behind him, he turned. “Julia. What’s wrong?”

She was shaking. “I c-can’t get warm, M-Mc-Cloud.” Her teeth chattered.

He went to her and folded her against his chest, inhaling the clean smell of her hair. “Come on. You’ll never get warm out here.” He brought her with him to the table, where he blew out the candle, then walked her to the bedroom.

“Crawl back into bed, Julia.” He flipped the covers back for her.

“W-Won’t do any good.” Her teeth still chattered. “McCloud?”

He urged her into bed. “What?”

“I know you don’t w-want to, b-but … would you crawl in with me? Just to get me warm?”

Something pinched his heart, leaving him open and vulnerable, unable to think of a quick, snappy retort. “In bed? With you?”

“Just to warm me up. Please?”

He stood staring down at her, unable to form words or thoughts, knowing that nothing coherent would come out of his mouth even if he tried.

“Please?”

His feet were rooted to the floor.

Huffing an impatient sigh, she slammed her fist on the bedding. “For heaven’s sake, McCloud. I’m not asking you to jump off a cliff, I just want to get warm.”

Expelling a deep breath, he sat on the edge of the bed and removed his boots. He couldn’t do this. Lie next to Julia and do nothing? Feel nothing? Christ …

The moment he crawled in beside her, she backed up against him, her sweet, lovely ass innocently nestling his groin.

“Put your arm around me,” she ordered.

“You’re pretty damned bossy,” he muttered, forcing an edge to his voice to cover his mounting hunger.

She grabbed his arm and pulled it around her. “You knew that the day we met.”

That he did. And he hoped to hell she never changed. He drew her closer, purposely avoiding her breasts. He was stiff with anxiety, unable to relax. God, the feel of her. The smell of her.

Remember, you dumb shit, you’re here to warm her up, Nothing else.
If he repeated those words often enough, he might force his body to believe them. The voice of reason, ringing with quiet irony, also told him he’d get an elbow to the ribs or a knee to the groin if he tried anything else.

Shivering, she snuggled closer. He mouthed a curse.

“McCloud?”

“Yeah?” He heard the first drops of rain against the windowpane and felt a sense of relief. Rain would snuff out the smoldering wood.

“This isn’t easy for me to say, but I’m glad you were with me tonight. If I’d been alone,
all
the animals would have been lost. Thank you.”

He had no doubt that thanking him was one of the hardest things she’d ever done. “You’re welcome, Julia. Now try to get some sleep.”

She shifted, her nipple grazing his arm. The nub tightened, pressing at the fabric of her gown, sending a heavy bite of desire into his groin as hunger rose up within him. He stifled a groan. She relaxed, and soon her breath came deep and steady. He envied her. He knew he wasn’t going to get any sleep this night.

Julia woke to find Wolf gone and Marymae asleep beside her. She didn’t want to soften toward him, but if he continued to do things like this, she might in spite of her good intentions. She smiled down at the babe. As if sensing Julia was awake, Marymae turned toward her. Julia kissed her hair, then stretched under the covers, remembering her bold request the night before. Had she expected him to try to seduce her? She smirked. Had she wanted him to? A better question was, what would she have done if he’d tried?

She inhaled, then let her breath out slowly. She was a prize ninny, that’s what she was. No matter how suggestive his talk, he wasn’t so swept away with lust for her that he couldn’t control himself, even when he was in the same bed. That surely said a lot for her appeal, didn’t it? She snorted a disparaging laugh and slid from the bed.

She was carefully piling her hair into a chignon when Marymae woke and began to fuss. Julia examined herself in her mirror, actually liking the way she looked in her soft blue dress. She decided she had a decent figure, in spite of the fact that she didn’t have a full bosom. She pinched her cheeks, amazed that she even cared about her appearance. She never had before. Not for Serge, and certainly not for that bastard Frank Barnes.

“Only for you, Wolf McCloud,” she said under her breath, then rolled her eyes at such nonsense. She changed and dressed the baby, then took a deep breath and went into the kitchen. McCloud stood over the stove, stirring what smelled like oatmeal.

“You can cook?”

He turned, giving her a lazy, indifferent once-over before going back to his chore. Any look from McCloud sent shivers over her flesh, indifferent or not. She knew he was remembering the night before, no doubt trying to recall just what she’d looked like in the tub. If that was the case, she certainly wasn’t very memorable, she thought, her mouth twisting into a dry smile.

“I get by. I’ve even mixed up griddle-cake batter.”

Her heart continued to patter out a swift, unwanted tattoo. “Is it lumpy?”

He chuckled, a warm sound that sent her heart racing. “Is Baptiste a black stallion?”

Hearing Julia’s warm laughter behind him, Wolf felt the hollow ache of loneliness yawn inside him. All night he’d lain awake, wondering what it would be like to have her love. She no longer felt revulsion for him, he knew that. But everything he was stemmed from the circumstances of his birth. That he’d been not merely a bastard, but a throwaway baby. Unwanted. Unloved. Add to that, not feeling welcome in either world, and he’d been on a downhill slide to nowhere most of his life.

All of the wild living he’d done had been because his mother hadn’t wanted him. Deep down he knew it was an excuse to continue to live that way. Maybe he was afraid he couldn’t change, even if he wanted to. No amount of lecturing from Angus had been able to alter what he felt inside. Wolf sensed that he alone could change what was there.

He’d whored around, drank to excess, and lived a bawdy life, because it was expected of someone like him.

Meeting his mother face-to-face had helped him put much of his despair behind him. What she’d done to him had made her unworthy in his eyes. He was sorry he’d wasted so many years punishing himself for something over which he had no control. But there was still a part of him that felt unclean. Especially to a woman like Julia. She didn’t know him yet. But eventually she’d find out. It didn’t matter how often he tried to convince himself that he was just like everyone else. He wasn’t, and he knew it.

If Julia got too close, he’d hurt her. Because when someone got close, they saw inside him, to the vast emptiness of his soul.

God, but he wanted her. And not just her body. She touched a place deep inside him that no one else had. Ever. He didn’t want to mess up what he could have with Julia. Maybe, if he worked hard, she would care for him enough so that what he’d been in the past wouldn’t matter. He could only hope.

He finished breakfast and rushed through the chores, setting the milk and eggs on the stoop. With a backward glance at the house, he went to the paddock, saddled his stallion, and rode out toward his precious piece of land.

Dawn was painting the sky lavender when he reached his cabin. Stunned surprise tore through him when he saw what was left of it. The cabin, like the barn, was only a pile of charred rubble.

He rode back to the ranch, his mind whirling. Lightning? Striking both structures? A grim smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Unlikely.

After yesterday, he knew better than to ask himself who was responsible. His conversation with Amos before he died, regarding the water and the land, erupted in his mind like volcanic ash. His suspicions about Amos’s accidental death loomed, too. Did Meredith Henley have something to do with Amos’s death? Maybe her need to get rid of him, a son who’d survived, was more complicated than just wanting him gone. Perhaps she wanted Amos’s land as well.

Wolf knew he had much to learn, but until he understood what was happening, he couldn’t involve Julia. No sense troubling her until he was certain there was something to worry about.

T
hat night after dinner, Julia found McCloud at her father’s desk by the fireplace, going through his papers. She stood in the doorway, holding a cup of coffee, and watched him. The way he turned his head, cocking it slightly to one side, reminded her of her father, and how he sat in that same chair, pondering a new problem—or an old one, for they’d had many. An emotion that went deeper than sadness tugged at her.

McCloud dove his fingers through his inky hair, an absurd gesture, for it fell forward again. He looked up, saw her standing there and grinned. Another emotion shuddered through her. Smiling back, she found herself thinking about the night before, surprised at the disappointment she felt. She thought she’d be grateful he wasn’t interested in her as a woman. Oh, he teased and he flirted, but that was just how he was. He probably teased and flirted with toothless old crones, too. Although, she thought, her heart thrumming, she doubted he kissed them, at least not the way he’d kissed her.

“Is that for me?”

Startled by the sound of his voice, she shook herself, remembering that she held the coffee. “Yes, of course.” She crossed to the desk and put the cup beside the stack of papers. “What are you doing?”

He was studying a map of the fan-shaped valley that indicated ranch borders and ownership. Standing at his shoulder, she resisted the urge to touch his hair.

“I thought it might be a good idea if I finally familiarized myself with things.” He traced the stream, then stopped. “I also want to pay some more on your bills. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Oh, McCloud, you shouldn’t have to—”

“It benefits me as well as you, Julia. With the bills paid, we can start fresh.”

She wanted to ask if he had enough money, but decided not to open that can of worms. She’d have been a fool not to be grateful, but it was so hard to tell him so. Ever since their marriage, she found herself relying on his strength, and it made her angry. She’d always been strong; she didn’t want to become an appendage.

“Your land backs up to the creek. It’s the only private land that does.”

She allowed her gaze to follow the line of the creek as it meandered through land she knew was rocky and harsh, land incapable of growing any suitable crop.

“Papa was lucky. The ranch next to ours became available just after we moved here. I remember the trouble he had when he bought it. His bid was the first one in, but there were others who coveted it.”

McCloud studied the map. “Like who?”

“Everyone who wanted access to the river. Burn-ham’s, Henley’s, Crawford’s…”

“Do all three own ranches here?”

“Yes. Burnham’s and Crawford’s are run by their sons. Meredith Henley has run her spread ever since her husband died.” She laughed. “Knowing her, she ran it when he was alive, too. Why do you ask?” She rubbed his shoulders—something she’d done for her father when he’d been working at the desk too long. Suddenly realizing how intimate the action was, she stopped, letting her hands fall to her sides.

“Don’t stop,” he ordered, though his voice was soft.

She swallowed and resumed her massage, startled at how tight he was.

“And these other ranchers need water?”

She pressed her thumbs along his spine, unable to find the bone for the muscle. “Of course. Who doesn’t?” His muscles refused to loosen up. “McCloud? What’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer her for a long time, then said, “It’s nothing for you to worry about, Julia.”

She stopped probing his back. “Is that anything like, ‘Don’t worry your pretty little head about it’?” She went to the side of the desk and glared at him. “Don’t treat me like this, McCloud. I’m not one of the vacant, empty-headed women you’re accustomed to. If there’s something wrong, then you’d better tell me, or I’ll … I’ll …”

“You’ll what?”

His grin, suddenly so boyish, was like a gift. Her anger fizzled like a shrinking balloon. She wanted to trace his mouth with her fingers. Swallowing hard, she threatened, “I’ll think of something awful to do to you.”

He took her hand, bringing her closer, pulling her onto his lap. She felt a wealth of emotions stirring inside her, but tried to pull away from the intimacy.

“Do you want to know what I’m thinking, Julia?” His eyes were solemn; she found no hint of mischief.

She sat on his lap, feeling stiff, uncomfortable, and foolish. “Yes. I want to know.” But she was apprehensive. The serious side of McCloud frightened her, for it meant there was substance to him. It meant he was a man worth loving, worth having. It frightened her because she knew how easy it would be for him to leave. And by that time her love would be too deep to forget, and the hole he’d leave in her life could never be filled by someone else.

“I’m thinking that Amos’s death was no accident.”

Her heart sank, aching on its way down. “He didn’t kill himself, McCloud. He didn’t.” Anger swelled within her even though she’d had that same thought.

“No, I don’t think he killed himself.”

“Then what are you saying?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

“I think he was killed by someone else.”

Stunned, she studied him, again finding no hint of mischief in his dark-rimmed gaze. “You think someone killed Papa? But why?”

He stroked her hair, removing the pins that held her braid in place at the back of her head. The chignon tumbled over her shoulder, and he threaded his fingers through it, loosening it. The familiar gesture wasn’t lost on her, but it continued to puzzle her.

“When I saw him last, he was worried about something. He wouldn’t tell me what it was, but he couldn’t hide the fact that something was gnawing at him.”

He spread her hair over her shoulder, then combed his fingers through it. She could feel it snag on the rough edges of his calluses. The tenderness of his touch troubled her concentration.

“And … and you don’t know what it was?”

He shook his head, his eyes searching. “He did say something, though.”

“What?” she asked, barely above a whisper, for his fingers were now at the back of her head, massaging her neck.

“He promised he wouldn’t die until I got here. Amos didn’t appear to me like a man who wouldn’t keep his promise.” He waited a heartbeat. “Unless he had no control over it.”

Thinking about her father’s death so quickly on the heels of Sally’s demise brought fresh tears into Julia’s throat. She fought her instincts to push herself off his lap, and settled against McCloud’s chest, her head resting on his shoulder.

“He’s gone, no matter how he died.” She uttered a heavy, quaking sigh. She hadn’t allowed herself to think about the rest of her life, void of her father’s gentle, soft-spoken voice. His presence. She pressed her fingers over her mouth.

“Oh, McCloud,” she said, fighting tears, “I don’t think I’ve ever missed him more than I do right now. Why would someone want him dead? He was just a harmless old man. He didn’t have any enemies.”

He stroked her hair again; it was a soothing motion. When he embraced her, she pressed her face against his neck, breathing in his primitive, masculine scent.

As they sat together, Julia knew she was falling deeply in love with her husband. The coarse Romeo he’d been when he’d first arrived was there, for he exhibited that side of himself often. But this McCloud that held her now was one she feared. Not because she didn’t trust him, but because she didn’t trust herself. That she could love him frightened her, for she had no confidence in his ability to be faithful, much less love her back. Or stay, for that matter.

Suddenly he stood, with her in his arms.

“McCloud, put me down,” she scolded, clinging to him.

“It’s time for bed, Julia.”

She pushed at his chest, but he held her fast. “Don’t act like a fool. I’m capable of getting to bed on my own two feet.”

Again he gave her that boyish grin. It was white and sudden, making him look impossibly sweet. “How well I know it.”

Her chest flooded with apprehension as they moved toward the bedroom while visions of the night before played havoc with her thoughts.

But once in her room, he dumped her onto the bed, then crossed to the door. She knew better than to voice her foolish disappointment. “Good night, McCloud.”

Turning before he left the room, he gave her a heart-stopping smile. “Sweet dreams, Julia.”

She made a face at his retreating back. Sweet dreams, indeed. She undressed, yanking her clothes off, tossing them onto the chair by her bed. What did she have to do, anyway? Seduce him?

With a soft, indelicate snort, she considered his reaction. Another rejection, no doubt. She’d never been one to give up on something, but she’d also never had any faith in her ability to attract a man. Living with Josette had reinforced that. But Josette wasn’t here, and by bloody darn, she was determined to take advantage of it.

As she buttoned her nightgown to her chin, a quivering sensation attacked her stomach. She wouldn’t take advantage tonight. Not wouldn’t, but … couldn’t. But as she slid beneath the covers, memories of the night before inundated her. It was too bad she didn’t have an excuse to go to him. Too bad he didn’t have another nightmare. This time she wouldn’t leave him.

As determined as she was, she wasn’t brazen enough to approach him. Not without reason, and
wanting
him just wasn’t reason enough to face another rejection. She rose onto her elbow and punched her pillow. Hard. She flopped back onto the bed.

And why not? Why was she afraid of another rejection? She was sick and tired of having a union that was more like a friendship than a marriage. She had nothing to lose. She’d lost her pride. Nothing else mattered. And a man like McCloud wouldn’t turn down an offer to make their marriage real. He was a lusty, sensual man, and if she didn’t offer herself, he’d go elsewhere, and Lord knows, she didn’t want that. It would be the ultimate shame, as far as she was concerned. That she was willing to go to him proved to her that she feared his straying to find intimacy elsewhere more than she feared the intimacy itself.

Flinging the covers aside, she slid from the bed and crossed to the door, going over the sensible reasons why McCloud should accept her into his bed. She left her room, anxious to present her proposal to him before she lost her nerve.

She hesitated at his door, then stepped inside, not wanting to give him time to prepare. The room was dark; she couldn’t even distinguish the bed.

“McCloud?”

There was rustling of the bedding. “What kept you?” His voice was huskier than usual.

She felt a wash of confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I expected you in here earlier.”

He was laughing at her; she heard it in his voice. Her stomach churned. “Then why didn’t you come to me?”

“Because I knew you’d come to me.”

There was a smile in his voice, the arrogant bastard.

“Tell me what you want, Julia.”

She took a deep breath, expelling it slowly. Why not? Her dignity was in shreds anyway. “It’s nothing serious. I just want you to sleep with me.” She held her breath, biting back a groan at how stupid and inane she sounded.

He let out a whoosh of breath of his own. “Julia—”

“I know, I know,” she interrupted, anxious to voice his opinions for him before he had a chance to do it himself. “It’s not what you want, McCloud, but it’s foolish not to at least—well, sleep together. I mean, I’m offering myself, and believe me, it isn’t an easy thing to do.” And it wasn’t. It was the hardest thing she’d ever had to do, but …

“I decided the worst thing you could do would be to reject me, and since I’ve survived your rejections in the past, I can do so again. I—”

“Julia, I just don’t want you to be sorry, that’s all.” He no longer sounded amused.

She made a face in the darkness. It was clever of him to rest the whole thing back on her shoulders as a way of wiggling out from under the burden of her request.

“The ranch is half yours, McCloud. I should think that at the very least you would want an heir.” The idea of producing one with him made her ache in places that she’d only learned existed in her own body since McCloud came into her life.

There was a long, significant pause, during which time Julia considered turning on her heels and racing back to her room. But she was no coward. Whatever his decision, she would learn to live with it.

“You want me to make love to you so I can have an heir?”

She heard the caution in his voice. If that was the only way she could have him, then, yes. “I would think you’d want that, too.”

He didn’t say anything, but she knew he would. She’d learned he was a master of the pregnant pause.

“What about Marymae? She’s your heir.”

Julia was getting impatient, and her feet were cold. “Marymae has nothing to do with it,” she snapped.

He cursed in the darkness. “Are you
sure
you want this?”

She answered with a mild curse of her own. “If I wasn’t sure, I wouldn’t have thrown my dignity to the wind and come in here, begging.”

“I just want—”

“McCloud,” she interjected, “you have the most resourceful way of dissolving a mood. Do you want me or don’t you? I’m getting cold.” She was not only impatient, but insecure as well. He’d seen to that.

He chuckled, and she heard him flip the covers back. “Only you could make an offer like that sounds like an order. Get in here.”

Ignoring his comment, for to dwell on it would have caused her to run, she hurried to the bed.

His body, warm beneath the bedding, radiated animal heat. Closing her eyes, she bit back a sigh when he brought her to him. She put one foot on his calf.

“Youch! Your feet are as cold as a witch’s—”

She snuggled closer, ignoring his reaction. “A witch’s … what?”

“A witch’s bosom,” he finished lamely.

“I don’t think that’s what you were going to say, McCloud.” She hoped she wasn’t purring, but she wasn’t sure. His body was warm and hard. He smelled
brazenly masculine, a scent that caused her to tremble with innocent desire. She was flirting with danger, and she knew it. But somehow she felt brave, too, and realized it was because it was dark. She didn’t have to look into those potently playful eyes … and he couldn’t see that she wasn’t the perfect woman. She wrinkled her nose. He’d discovered that last night when she’d fallen asleep in the tub.