The Texan (11 page)

“Aw, damn,” Owen said.

“Manny said he saw those same men at the trailhead for the Strawhouse Trail later on last night,” she said in a choked voice. “Doesn’t it stand to reason my brother must be in here somewhere?”

“What makes you think he isn’t lying dead in the Basin, where the Park Rangers found his motorcycle?” Owen said.

He watched her eyes darken from sky blue to lavender, as she fought back tears. “Manny said his family’s traveled those trails for generations.”

“Smuggling, most likely,” Owen interjected.

“Anyway,” Bay continued, glaring him into silence, “he admitted he went back after dark to see if the men were still there—whether they’d left anything behind in their pickup, which they’d parked at the trailhead, that he might use—”

“You mean steal,” Owen interrupted.

“What’s important,” Bay said with asperity, “is that he saw my brother—alive.”

He watched her struggle to control the wobble in her chin before she spoke again. “I think the men who took my brother parked his Harley in the Basin to lead everyone in the opposite direction from where they’re actually holding him.”

“Why would they keep him alive, when they killed Hank?” Owen demanded.

Bay met his gaze with dark violet eyes and said, “You’re forgetting what my brother did in the National Guard. He knows how to arm and detonate those VX mines.”

LAUREN CREED HAD MADE THE TRIP FROM
the kitchen door of Three Oaks to the stable so many times over the past eighteen months, she could have found her way in the dark. So it didn’t matter that she was blinded by tears. There was work to be done. A stallion and a mare to be put together in a way that would allow them to mate without one sexually excited animal injuring the other.

Blackjack’s championship stallion Smart Little Doc pranced in an adjoining corral to her own quarter horse mare Sugar Pep. Ren could see the bay mare was restless, trotting back and forth along the fence, her tail up in response to Smart Little Doc’s urgent neighs and high-spirited crowhops.

As Ren reached the corral, she swiped surreptitiously at her tears before she turned to the cowhand she’d left to watch over the two animals. “What do you think, Slim? Is it about time to put them together?”

“Sugar Pep is ready, Boss. That big old boy still seems a mite excitable, though.”

Ren watched the championship cutting horse lower his head and kick up his heels, showing off for the mare. Then he reared and pawed the air, his neigh challenging
any and all comers to a battle for dominance. “I’ll take it from here, Slim,” she said, dismissing the cowboy.

Slim handed over the lariat he’d kept ready, in case either of the horses needed to be lassoed and subdued. “Here you go, Boss.”

Ren still felt odd whenever one of the hands addressed her as “Boss.” For all her married life, her husband had run Three Oaks without any help from her. It wasn’t that she hadn’t offered to share the load. But Jesse had said the most important job in the world was taking care of their family. And that responsibility was hers.

Unfortunately, there hadn’t been enough housework in the world to keep her mind off the mistake she’d made, the consequences of which she’d lived with every day. Ren had loved Jesse Creed when she’d married him, pregnant with his child. But she’d been desperately
in love
with Jackson Blackthorne.

Ren had met Blackjack quite by accident, on a hot July day when she was barely seventeen. She hadn’t been able to persuade Jesse to sneak away from riding the fenceline with his daddy and go swimming with her, so she’d gone alone. She’d ridden off to one of the deep, quiet spots along Bitter Creek that was shaded by a broad, leafy cottonwood.

Ren hadn’t brought along a swimsuit, so she’d stripped down to her plain white bra and bikini panties and waded in. The deep pond of water that had formed at a bend in the creek had been icy cold and wonderful, and she’d put her head back and closed her eyes and floated in the dappled shade. When she’d heard galloping hoofbeats, she’d smiled, thinking Jesse had decided to join her.

Ren could feel his heated gaze on her and wondered why he didn’t say anything, then realized that in all likelihood
he could see her dark nipples through her wet cotton bra. A quiver ran through her, as she felt his gaze caressing her. “Come on in,” she invited in a husky voice, her eyes still closed. “The water’s fine.”

She smiled as she heard the snaps pop on his Western shirt, the rattle of his belt being unbuckled, and the sound of him hopping one-footed as he pulled his boots off, before she finally heard the brush of denim sliding down his legs.

She waited for the splash, but realized when she felt the gentle ripple of waves that he hadn’t whooped and done a cannonball as she’d expected. He’d come into the water silently. She imagined him with water covering him to his waist, and her lips curved into a Madonna-like smile, as she waited for him to come and kiss her. That, too, was a tradition, one she felt sure he’d observe. But he was taking too long.

“Kiss me,” she murmured, floating in the water with her eyes closed, as though suspended on clouds in the sky.

One of his arms slid under her shoulders to support her, and she felt his warm breath on her cheek as he leaned over her. His lips barely teased her own before he withdrew.

Oh, she wanted more. So much more. And she told him so. “More, please.”

His mouth returned to hers, unbearably soft, incredibly gentle. Jesse had never been so tender, and she felt a place inside her open and flower with love. She lay quiescent, her eyes too heavy-lidded with pleasure to open, and only his arm to support her as she floated languorously in the water. “Oh, that was lovely. Again.”

His mouth returned, hungrier, and his tongue probed the
seam of her lips. She opened to let him in and realized that he tasted … different … but in a good way. His tongue slid to the frenulum behind her upper lip and teased, something he’d never done before, and she gasped at the pleasure of it. He retreated, and his lips caressed the edges of her mouth and then her cheeks and eyelids with tiny, reverent kisses. She felt exalted. Worshiped.

“Oh,” she said with a moan. “Oh.”

It felt so wonderful. Why hadn’t they ever done this before? She started to open her eyes, and his large, callused hand gently covered them.

“Easy,” he said in a rough, gruff voice. “Easy.”

She relaxed against his arm in the water, willing to trust him. “I want to hold you,” she said. “I want you to hold me.”

He seemed to hesitate, then whispered, “Keep your eyes closed.”

She smiled at the silliness of such a request, but was more than willing to play along with his game. “All right,” she whispered back.

She was surprised at his strength when he lifted her out of the water, surprised at the hardness of his biceps under her hands, as she slid them up his arms and around his neck. The hair at his nape was soft and thick and luxurious. Her mouth searched for his and found it, warm and waiting.

She groaned with satisfaction as his tongue probed deeply into her mouth. She felt him release the catch on her bra and pull it up out of his way, so he could reach her breasts. She let her head fall back and felt the dappled sunlight on her eyelids as he suckled first one breast and then the other. She moaned as the breeze hit her damp nipples and turned them into tight buds.

“Oh, God,” he said in a low, guttural voice. “You’re so beautiful.”

She couldn’t help smiling. She would have opened her eyes, but he put one large hand over them once more and murmured, “Don’t. This is a dream. Let’s play it out.”

Oh, yes. It felt like a dream. A wonderful dream.

She let him remove her bra and heard it hit the water with a small splash. She felt a raw curl of feeling deep inside, as her breasts brushed against the rough, wiry hair on his chest. She hadn’t remembered Jesse having so much hair on his chest, but she was feeling too much pleasure to question something so inconsequential.

She pulled his head down so she could kiss him more easily, put her tongue into his mouth. Oh, the sounds he made! Carnal, lustful sounds. She felt desirable and desired.

He pulled her roughly up along his body so she felt his naked erection against her belly. She was startled at first at the thought of him naked, but then she realized she was glad. She reached down to touch him, but he caught her wrist in an iron grip and put her hand back around his neck.

“Not yet,” he rasped.

He caught her buttocks in his hands and pulled her hard against him, so she could feel the heat of him pulsing against her.

“I want to feel you inside me,” she begged. “Please.”

A groan rumbled deep in his throat, a desperate, animal sound of need. She felt him rip her bikini panties in two and growled low and fierce in her throat as she realized he was going to give her what she craved. Her mouth latched onto his neck, biting hard as he lifted her and thrust inside, deeply, to the hilt.

She felt full. Unbelievably full. But her body was too far gone to question the anomaly her mind had recognized. She bucked against his body, the water thrashing around them. He held her buttocks tight against him, releasing her only to thrust again. She clenched her inner muscles, as she felt him release his seed, milking him dry.

Her head fell on his shoulder, and she linked her fingers behind his neck to keep her arms from sliding down. She felt his chest heaving against her own as he held her tightly against him, their bodies still connected to one another.

“Oh, God,” she heard him say.

And realized it wasn’t Jesse’s voice she heard.

“Oh, God,” she whispered, as she slowly lifted her head … and opened her eyes.

His eyes weren’t dark like Jesse’s. They were stone cold gray. It wasn’t Jesse Creed she’d just made love with. It was Jackson Blackthorne.

“Put me down.” She was amazed at how calm her voice sounded. Amazed at how bereft she felt, as their bodies disentangled. Amazed that she had no bones in her legs. And only belatedly felt the shame that flushed her cheeks and caused her to hide her naked breasts with her hands.

She stiffened when he tried to help her stay upright in the shallow water and said, “Don’t touch me.”

“Will you let me explain?”

She was too wounded to listen. “How could you? You knew I thought you were someone else.”

“Why didn’t you stop me?”

She knew what he was asking. Why hadn’t she recognized the differences between one man and another?
Why hadn’t she known it wasn’t Jesse who’d been making love to her?

Maybe she had. Most certainly she had.

Ren frowned, confused by her own actions. There had been so many differences. She’d noticed them all. Why hadn’t she opened her eyes?
Because then the dream would have ended
. Why hadn’t she stopped him?
Because it had felt so right
.

“Why didn’t you stop?” she countered.

“Because I wanted you,” he said boldly. “I saw you floating there, so beautiful … so desirable … so utterly irresistible.”

Ren wasn’t immune to flattery. Especially when she’d received so little of it from Jesse. Jesse didn’t seem to think she needed to hear those sorts of things. But she did. Every woman did.

“Is there a chance I’ve gotten you pregnant?” he asked.

Ren gasped, as she remembered why she’d been so anxious to have Jesse meet her at the pond. The news she had to tell him. That she was pregnant with his child. She looked at Blackjack with stricken eyes.

“If I’ve gotten you pregnant—”

“No,” she interrupted. “There’s no chance of that.”

She didn’t know why she hadn’t told him she was already pregnant. That she would most certainly be a married woman as soon as she and Jesse could arrange the wedding.

“Can I see you again?” he asked.

“No.”

“Why not?”

The Blackthorne arrogance she’d heard so much about was evident in his demanding voice. Ren discovered she
didn’t mind it so much, when what he wanted was her. She’d wanted her dream lover to seduce her. She’d loved every moment she’d spent in his arms. But that was all there could ever be between them.

He leaned across the distance that separated them and touched her lips with his.

And she was lost. She stepped into his embrace and felt his arms tighten around her.

“I have to have you again,” he said, as he lifted her up and carried her out of the water and onto the bank.

They’d spent the rest of the afternoon together, loving and talking and then loving again. She hadn’t questioned the insanity of what she was doing. She’d only known that it felt right, no matter how wrong it was. He was another part of herself. They belonged together.

She wished she’d known then what she knew now. That her conscience would force her to give up Blackjack and marry Jesse, whose child she carried. And that even when she realized, within a year of marrying Jesse, that she’d made the wrong choice, it would be too late. Because Jackson Blackthorne had already married Eve DeWitt and had a child of his own on the way.

But that was then. And this was now. New decisions had to be made, new choices that would affect the rest of her life. She focused her gaze on the stallion and mare in the adjoining corrals.