The Texan's Dream (21 page)

For a few songs, they danced behind the hay, then she encouraged him out to the floor.

“I don’t know about this.” He looked like he was being tortured.

“You’ll do fine. Just look around you.”

They watched the others, then he smiled and pulled her into the circling couples. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What?” She tried to follow his steps.

“That no one else knows how to dance either.”

Kara moved closer and laughed. He was right. Between the cowhands and the soldiers, not one looked like they’d had more than a single lesson. But that didn’t dampen their enthusiasm. If confidence counted as skill, these men were experts.

By the time someone in the band called a break, Jonathan moved comfortably to the music.

“Would you like some cider?” he asked, without turning loose her hand.

“Can we step outside?” she answered. “I’d welcome the cool air.”

They walked in silence for several yards away from the barn. Kara noticed a few of the old guards from the ranch standing around. They hadn’t come to dance, but to watch over Jonathan, as always. In an odd way, he had his own private guardian angels.

“Thank you for tonight,” she whispered, loving the way he felt standing so close beside her. “I’ve had a wonderful time.”

His hand tightened slightly around hers. “There are things that need saying between us, Kara, but I don’t know the words.”

“Why did you truly ask me here tonight?” The thought that the dance might be one of his traps to catch troublemakers crossed her mind.

“Because I thought it was what you wanted. Though I must admit, I like seeing the anger in your eyes, I wanted to see you smiling and happy, too.” He faced her. “You’re a beautiful, warm woman who deserves better than O’Toole.”

“You’re doing pretty good with the words.” A blush spread up her cheeks. She was glad it was dark. “What would make you happy?”

He didn’t answer.

“Tell me, Jonathan. It’s like dancing. Just step out with the truth.”

He stood so near their breaths mingled in the cold air. “I want to lie with you, Kara, until the sun rises.” His words were a whisper, so low they barely passed between them. “I’ve wanted it since I first kissed you all those weeks ago. You have a passion in your eyes that challenges me to explore and may very well drive me mad before our year together is over.”

Kara was shocked into silence, not by what he said, but by the honesty in his tone. If she were just learning about the art of flirting, he was newborn in the game for he’d revealed far too much when first asked.

Only, he wasn’t flirting, she realized. He was a man who might never learn such things. He was simply answering her question honestly.

She wanted to tell him that men didn’t say such things to women, but she’d asked him to be truthful. They walked no closer together, for they knew others watched, but his fingers moved over her hand, slowly caressing.

She tightened her grip on his arm as she looked into his eyes. For all the world they appeared to be talking, but he was making love to her with his gaze. They both knew it.

He didn’t need to woo her with words. He looked into her very soul, telling her what he wanted, asking her to accept the adventure.

He couldn’t talk of love, for he didn’t know of it. He couldn’t talk of forever, he didn’t believe it existed. All he could offer her was a touch, an embrace, a passion, but with that, he offered his heart.

When they turned and moved back to the barn, he circled his arm about her waist, lightly brushing just beneath her breast. “I want to hold you,” he whispered an inch from her ear. “More than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.”

She didn’t answer as they entered the barn, but the dancing changed. The pressure of his fingers holding hers, the way he moved close for a moment then stepped away. The slight touch of his hand at her back. All became part of something far more than dancing.

When they stood beneath the mistletoe, his kiss was brief, polite, but he left the taste of his lips on hers and a promise.

TWENTY-THREE

WHEN THE SMALL BAND PLAYED THE LAST WALTZ, Jonathan pulled Kara closer than he’d dared before, and they moved as one to the music. He wished he had the words to tell her how he felt, but he wasn’t sure himself. Somehow, in the months of watching her, he’d grown accustomed to having her around. The thought that Devin might take her away upset him far more than he wanted to admit.

Much as he’d tried to avoid it, she’d become a part of his life. He looked forward to their talks, to watching her gentle movements, even to their fights. Something inside him wanted to protect her and keep her safe. He swore he’d never hold another person near, but he dearly wanted to hold Kara. She was the only woman he’d ever found who made him feel like he was completely alive. When she was near, the world tasted and smelled and bloomed with color.

How does a man say such things to a woman? he wondered.

As the dance ended, H. B. caught Jonathan’s attention. The old man stood beside a post, looking like he was doing no more than watching the dancers. But Jonathan knew H. B. missed little. The guards had been near all evening, just in case they were needed.

As Kara said good-bye to the people she’d met, Jonathan stepped beside H. B. “Any trouble?” he asked, nothing casual about his tone.

“All quiet. No sign of Wells or his men. My guess is, we put this dance together so fast they didn’t have time to hear about it.”

“Good.” Jonathan had worried about Wells all evening. Even during calm times, throwing the Catlin and Wells cowhands together wasn’t a good idea. “Anything else?” He knew there was, or H. B. wouldn’t have signaled.

“One of the soldiers says they captured an Apache. They’re camped about a mile from town. The lieutenant said the Apache was a real troublemaker who escaped from Fort Elliot earlier this month. Said they’re waiting until after Christmas to take him as far as Fort Griffin. They plan to put him on trial there instead of just sending him back to the reservation.”

Jonathan studied H. B.’s face. “You think it might be my Apache brother, Quil?”

“If your friend escaped, he’d have reason to come to this part of the country. But the soldier, if he knew, didn’t say any name.”

Jonathan leaned closer. “Got any idea how to find out if it’s Quil?”

H. B. shoved away from the post. “I’ll invite them to Christmas dinner. My guess is they’ll all come and bring the prisoner with them or leave him tied up somewhere safe. I never met a soldier who’d turn down a home-cooked meal. Either way, we’ll have a chance to take a look at him.”

Jonathan groaned. “Great plan. What’s six or eight more when I already have half the state coming for Christmas dinner?”

Kara joined them as he said the last words. She glanced from one to the other, but neither man offered an explanation.

“Shall we go?” Jonathan took her hand.

Kara nodded and pulled her shawl over her hair.

He helped her into the wagon, then watched as his men saddled up. So many things needed to be said between him and Kara, but there was never time. With everyone leaving the dance at once, they’d have plenty of chaperones on the way home.

When he turned the wagon toward Catlin land, he could hear the others talking around him. Muted conversations mingled with the sounds of the wagons and horses. He wished he could think of something to say to Kara.

But what? He was no good at small talk, never had been. In fact, to most people, he’d just as soon not talk at all. Sometimes, when he was traveling, he would go for days without saying anything to anyone.

The night grew cold. The moon and stars provided just enough light to make the clouds look like watered-down milk floating above them. Kara sat closer to him than she had before. Maybe she’d stay warm. He was also glad he brought the old buggy. At least she had some protection from the wind.

Jonathan glanced back at Newton and Mary Ann in the wagon. He couldn’t help but smile. From the looks of their shadows, Mary Ann would have no trouble keeping warm. Newton had her wrapped up in his arms while they talked.

Jonathan figured he had to think of something to say to Kara. If he rode all the way back without talking to her, she’d probably decide he was mad at her. He wanted this night to be perfect for her. If she went back home, this might be one of her few nights left in Texas.

Ideas rolled around in his brain. She probably wouldn’t want to discuss the ranch books. This wasn’t the time. If he told her of his worries about the ranch, she’d leave tomorrow. Newton and Mary Ann seemed a safe topic, but since they were within hearing distance, it might not be polite to discuss them.

About the time Jonathan gave up, he felt Kara’s hand touch his leg just above his knee. He jerked slightly at her boldness, then lowered his own hand to cover hers. They didn’t say a word. They no longer needed to.

When they reached home, a flurry of activity kept them apart. Men carried leftover food into the house from Newton’s wagon. Kara checked on Cooper and Snort. Mary Ann’s children woke up and cried, which woke Dawn’s baby, leaving Jonathan to have to explain about the noise so late at night.

Finally, when all had settled, Jonathan climbed the stairs. Kara’s door was closed. He stood alone in the hallway, wondering what to do. If he knocked, he’d wake everyone along the hall.

He felt restless and lost. All he’d wanted to do was kiss Kara good night, but that had become impossible. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, and all the McLains would be arriving. Twice as many people would be in the house. He’d be lucky to see Kara, much less get close enough to kiss her. Besides, the end of an evening is when a man kisses a woman, at least according to H. B. and Snort.

Restless, Jonathan walked back downstairs. Snort and Cooper were both asleep in the great room. They’d said that in the morning they would be moving to the bunkhouse. Both figured they’d been pampered enough.

Jonathan stared at the long velvet drapes for a minute, almost feeling Kara in his arms. He probably frightened her with his passion, but she’d been so warm and willing.

He moved on, reluctant to let the memory drown him. In the kitchen, he found the remains of the baskets of food, scattered across the counter. At the far end, Kara sat wearing her gown and robe. The one candle she’d brought cast only a small circle of light around her. On a large napkin in front of her were bits of food she must have collected from the different baskets.

“Want some?” She held up a half of a sandwich she’d just made. “I’m starving so I sneaked down the back stairway hoping there’d be food left. We were too busy dancing at the party to sample Angela’s food.”

Jonathan moved forward, taking in everything about her. She’d combed her hair and tied it in the long braid that curled over one shoulder. The union-blue of her robe made her eyes deep-ocean green. The candlelight sparkled in her gaze like laughter.

“I tried to go to sleep.” She took a bite of cookie. “But I was too hungry.”

Jonathan reached her without saying a word. When he turned her on the stool, he whispered, “So am I,” a moment before his mouth closed over hers.

A need within him shook his entire body as longing collided with paradise.

She tasted of cinnamon-sugar cookie crumbs and milk and
Kara.
He felt like he could devour her completely and still have only a taste of what he longed for. The need to hold her tightly in his arms had almost driven him insane all evening, and he could wait no longer.

He kissed her wildly as his hands moved over her, pressing her against the length of him, touching her in places he’d wanted to all evening. His fingers slid over the length of her arms and down her sides, stopping near her breasts. He moved his palms inward slightly, pressing against her softness as he parted her lips and deepened the kiss.

When he realized she was kissing him back, he groaned and lifted her off the stool. He couldn’t get enough of her, the taste of her mouth, the feel of her body warm and yielding against his.

In the corner of his mind, he told himself to slow down, take it easy, be gentle, but a tidal wave of need washed over him. All he could do was move with the force.

When he broke the kiss, he lifted her onto the counter and watched her face in the pale light. Her eyes were closed, her head back as she took a deep breath and smiled.

That tiny smile was almost his undoing. It wasn’t a wide smile to be shared with the world, but a sparkle of a private grin that whispered of how good she felt inside.

He blew the candle out so she was bathed in pale moonlight filtering though the kitchen curtains. Leaning forward, he kissed the comers of her mouth, wanting to taste her smile. “Still hungry?” he whispered against her cheek.

“Starving,” she answered with a laugh.

When he would have straightened an inch away, she plowed her fingers into his hair and pulled his mouth to hers. Again the kiss was wild. Only now, she rode a wave of passion, and he fought to keep up.

Without breaking the kiss, he hooked his fingers beneath her knees and pulled her forward so that she sat perched on the counter, her legs on either side of his waist. He tugged at her belt and pulled the robe open with fingers hungry to feel her.

As the kiss softened, he worked the buttons free and slipped his fingers inside her gown. Her skin was warm and velvet against his touch, her breasts swollen and welcoming. He caught her moans of pleasure in his mouth as his hands set her flesh afire.

When he finally broke the kiss, they were both gasping for breath. He moved his hands to either side of her and leaned his forehead against hers. For a time, they just breathed. Then, slowly, he pressed his head against hers, enjoying the feel of her hair next to his cheek.

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you like that all night,” he whispered.

Kara didn’t answer, she just stretched slightly, revealing her throat.

He buried his face in the hollow of her neck and took a deep breath, enjoying the way she smelled of roses. He planted light, soundless kisses all the way to her ear, then whispered, “Lean back, darling.”

She braced her arms behind her and did as he said, letting her head lean back, as well.

He studied her, moving his hand over her throat and down to part her gown. He pulled the last buttons free so that his fingers and his gaze could roam from her neck to her waist.

“Don’t move,” he whispered as his hands crossed featherlight over her skin.

She made little sounds of pleasure, but she didn’t move as he reached her waist and began the journey back up, this time with slightly more pressure. Her body warmed with his touch. When he reached her throat, he moved his fingers gently into her hair, combing the braid away with ease.

Now her hair flowed free as he once more slipped his hands along her flesh. Only now, his touch was bold, stopping to explore whenever she moaned, loving the way she responded to his slightest caress.

When she would have leaned forward to hold him, he touched her shoulders. “Be still, Kara. Don’t move yet.”

She obeyed, mindless with pleasure now. His fingers began at her hair, once more caressing her as he circled down her body. Only this time his journey didn’t end at her waist, but ventured downward.

Kara raised up with a start. Jonathan didn’t move his hand away. For a long moment, they stared at one another, the fire dancing in both their eyes.

He kissed her lightly on lips that felt well caressed. “Are you all right?” he whispered as he removed his hand and pulled her gown closed. He wanted, with every ounce of his being, to make love to her on the counter and, if he pushed, he was sure she’d be willing. But suddenly, he didn’t want to push her, he couldn’t. Like the kiss before, when she came to him, she had to do so willingly, unafraid. He wouldn’t hurry paradise until she ran full into it with him.

Kara pushed her hair back and straightened her robe. “I’m fine.”

He’d always enjoyed the quietness between them. The way she didn’t feel the need to crowd the air with conversation. But now, he wished she’d say more, tell him how she felt, what was on her mind.

Her hands were shaking, and he fought to keep from holding her. But he wasn’t sure what she wanted. She didn’t seem afraid, at least not of him.

“I’d better say good night,” she said as if they’d only been talking. “It’s getting very late.”

He helped her down from the counter, touching her only as much as necessary.

His words stopped her before she reached the door. “Kara, are you all right?” He had to know. Had he gone too far?

“I’m fine,” she whispered. “I’ve never felt like this before.” She stepped from the room without finishing.

“Neither have I,” he added. Knowing that what he felt was far more than need or passion.