Will of Steel (10 page)

“Scared?” he whispered against her mouth. “No need. We have a chaperone.”

“The door…it's closed.”

“Yes, thank goodness,” he groaned, “because if it wasn't, I wouldn't dare do this.”

“This” involved the sudden rise of her shirt and the bra up under her chin and the shocking, delicious, invasion of Ted's warm mouth over her breast.

She shuddered. It was the most intense pleasure she'd ever felt. Her short nails dug into his broad shoulders as she closed her eyes and arched backward to give him even better access to the soft, warm flesh that ached for his tender caress.

She felt his hand cupping her, lifting her, as his mouth
opened over the nipple and he took it between his lips and tongue.

Her soft gasp was followed by a harsh, shivering little moan that cost him his control. Not only had it been a long, dry spell, but this woman was the most important person in his life and he wanted her with an obsessive hunger. He hadn't been able to sleep for thinking about how sweet it would be to make love to her. And now she was, despite her hang-ups, not only welcoming his touch, but enjoying it.

“You said you didn't want to marry me,” he whispered roughly as his mouth became more demanding.

Her nails dug into his back. “I said a lot of things,” she agreed. Her eyes closed as she savored the spicy smell of his cologne, the tenderness of his mouth on forbidden flesh. “I might have even…believed them, at the time.”

He lifted his head and looked down at her. His expression tautened at the sight of her pretty, firm breasts, and his body clenched. “I took it personally. Like you thought there was something wrong with me.”

“Ted, no!” she exclaimed.

He pulled back the hand that was tracing around her nipple.

She bit her lip. “I wasn't saying no to that,” she said with hopeless shyness, averting her eyes. “I meant, I don't think there's anything wrong with you…!”

She gasped as he responded to the blatant invitation in her voice and teased the hard rise of flesh with his thumb and forefinger.

“You don't?” he whispered, and smiled at her in a way that he never had before.

“Of course not! I was just scared,” she managed, because what he was doing was creating sensations
in some very private places. “Scared of marriage, I mean.”

“Marriage is supposed to be a feast of pleasure for two people who care about each other,” he pointed out, watching with delight her fascination with what he was doing to her willing body. He drew in a long breath and bent his head. “I'm beginning to believe it.”

He opened his mouth over her soft breast and drew it inside, suckling it with his lips and his tongue in a slow, easy caress that caused her whole body to clench and shiver. As his ardor increased, he felt with wonder the searching fingers on the buttons of his shirt. They hesitated.

“Men like to be touched, too,” he whispered into her ear.

“Oh.”

She finished opening the button, a little clumsily, and spread her hands over the thick, curling mass of hair that covered his chest. “Wow,” she whispered when sensations rippled through her body and seemed to be echoed coming from his. “You like that?” she asked hesitantly.

“I love it,” he gritted.

She smiled with the joy of discovery as she looked up at him, at his mussed hair, his sensuous mouth, his sparkling black eyes. It was new, this shared pleasure. And she'd been so certain that she'd never be able to feel it with him, with anyone.

He bent to her mouth and crushed his lips down over it as his body eased onto hers. She felt the press of his bare chest against her breasts and arched up to increase the contact. Her arms went around him tightly, holding on as the current of passion swept her along.

He eased one long, powerful leg between both of hers
and moved against her in a rhythm that drew shudders and soft moans from her throat. She buried her teeth in his shoulder as the sensations began to rise and become obsessive. He must have felt something comparable, because he suddenly pushed down against her with a harsh groan as his control began to slip.

The soft knock on the door came again and again, until it was finally a hammering.

Ted lifted his head, his shocked eyes on Jillian's pretty pink breasts with visible passion marks, her face flushed and rigid with desire, her eyes turbulent as they met his.

“What?” Ted said aloud.

“Steak's ready! Don't let it get cold!” Rourke called, and there were audible footsteps going back down the hall.

With the passion slowly receding, Jillian was disturbed at letting Ted see her like this. Flushed, she fumbled her blouse and bra back on, wincing as the sensitive nipple was brushed by the fabric.

“Sorry,” he whispered huskily. “I lost my head.”

She managed a shaky smile. “It's okay. I lost mine, too.” She looked at him with absolute wonder. “I didn't know it could feel like that,” she stammered. “I mean, I never felt like that with anybody. Not that I ever let any man do that…!”

He put a long finger over her lips and smiled at her in a way he never had before. “It's okay, Jake.”

She was still trying to catch her breath, and not doing a good job of it.

“I think you could say that we're compatible, in that way,” he mused, enjoying her reaction to him more than he could find a way to express.

She laughed softly. “Yes, I think you could.”

He smiled. “So, suppose we get married. And you can live with me, here on the ranch, and you'll never have to worry about Harris again.”

She hesitated, but not for very long. She nodded, slowly. “Okay.”

His high cheekbones went a ruddy color. It flattered him that she'd agree after a torrid passionate interlude, when he hadn't been able to persuade her with words.

“Don't get conceited,” she said firmly, figuring out his thoughts.

His eyes twinkled. “Not possible.”

She laughed. It was as if the world had changed completely in those few minutes. All her hang-ups had gone into eclipse the minute Ted turned the heat up.

“I wondered,” he confessed, “if you'd be able to respond to a man after what happened to you.”

“I did, too.” She moved close to him and put her hands on his chest. “It was one reason I was afraid to let things go, well, very far. I didn't want to lead you on in any way and then pull away and run. I almost did that once.”

“Yes,” he said.

“If we get married, you'll give me a little time, won't you?” she asked worriedly. “I mean, I think I can do what you want me to. But it's just getting used to the idea.”

Ted, who knew more than she did about women's re actions when passion got really hot, only smiled. “No problem.”

She grinned. “Okay, then. Do we get married in the justice of the peace's office…?”

“In a church,” he interrupted. “And you have to have a white gown and carry a bouquet. I'll even wear my
good suit.” He smiled. “I'm only getting married once, you know. We have to do it right.”

She loved that attitude. It was what she'd wanted, but she was sensitive about being pushy. “Okay,” she said.

“You'll be beautiful in a wedding gown,” he murmured, bending to kiss her tenderly. “Not that you aren't beautiful in blue jeans. You are.”

“I'm not,” she faltered.

“You are to me,” he corrected. His black eyes searched hers and he thought about the future, about living with her, about loving her… He bent and kissed her hungrily, delighting when she returned the embrace fervently.

“The steak's going to be room temperature in about thirty seconds!” Rourke shouted down the hall.

Ted pulled back, laughing self-consciously. “I guess we could eat steak, since he's been nice enough to cook it,” he told her. His eyes glittered. “We can tell him we're engaged before we even start eating.”

“Rourke's not interested in me that way,” she said easily, smiling. “He's a nice man, but he's just protective of women. It isn't even personal.”

Ted had his doubts about that. Jillian underestimated her appeal to men.

“Come on,” she said, and slid her little hand into his big one.

That knocked the argument right out of him. It was the first physical move she'd made toward him. Well, not the first, but a big one, just the same. He slid his fingers between hers sensually, and smiled at her.

She smiled back. Her heart was hammering, her senses were alive and tumultuous. It was the beginning of a whole new life. She could hardly wait to marry Ted.

 

Rourke gave them a knowing smile when he noticed the telltale signs of what they'd been doing. He served up supper.

“This is really good,” Ted exclaimed when he took the first bite of his steak.

“I'm a gourmet chef,” Rourke replied, surprisingly. “In between dangerous jobs, I used to work in one of the better restaurants in Jo'burg,” he said, giving Johannesburg it affectionate abbreviation.

“Wonders will never cease,” Jillian said with a grin. “From steaks to combat.”

“Oh, it was always combat first,” Rourke said easily, “since I was born in Africa.”

“Africa was always a rough venue, from what Cash told me,” Ted said.

Rourke nodded. “We have plenty of factions, all trying to gain control of the disputed African states, although each is a sovereign nation in the Organization of African Unity, which contains fifty-four nations. The wars are always bloody. And there are millions upon millions of displaced persons, trying to survive with their children. A mercenary doesn't even have to look for work, it's all around him.” His face hardened. “What's hardest is what they do to the kids.”

“They must die very young there,” Jillian commented sadly.

“No. They put automatic weapons in their hands when they're grammar school age, teach them to fire rocket launchers and set explosive charges. They have no sense of what childhood should actually be.”

“Good heavens!” she exclaimed.

“You've never traveled, Jake,” Ted said gently. “The world is a lot bigger than Hollister.”

“I guess it is. But I never had the money, even if I'd had the inclination,” she said.

“That's why I joined the army.” Ted chuckled. “I knew it was the only way I'd get to travel.”

“I wanted to see the world, too.” Rourke nodded. “But most of what I've seen of it wouldn't be appropriate for any travel magazine.”

“You have a ranch?” Ted asked.

He smiled. “Yes, I do. Luckily it's not in any of the contested areas, so I don't have to worry about politicians seizing power and taking over private land.”

“And you run Brahmas,” Ted said, shaking his head. “Ugly cattle.”

“They're bred to endure the heat and sometimes drought conditions that we have in Africa,” Rourke explained. “Our cattle have to be hearty. And some of your American ranchers use them as breeding stock for that very reason.”

“I know. I've seen a lot of them down in Texas.”

“They don't mind heat and drought, something you can't say for several other breed of cattle,” Rourke added.

“I guess,” Jillian said.

Rourke finished his steak and took a sip of the strong coffee he'd brewed. “Harris has been frustrated because Jillian got one of the waitresses to start putting cakes out for her in the display case.”

“They haven't been selling,” Jillian said sadly. “They used to be very popular, and now hardly anybody wants slices of them. I guess Davy has convinced people that they shouldn't eat my cooking because I'm such a bad person.”

“Oh, that's not true,” Ted said at once. “Don't you know about the contest?”

She frowned. “What contest?”

“You don't read the local paper, do you?” Rourke chided her.

She shook her head. “We already know what's going on, we only read a paper to know who got caught. But I have him,” she pointed at Ted, “to tell me that, so why do I need to spend money for a newspaper?”

They both laughed.

“The mayor challenged everyone in Hollister to give up sweets for two weeks. It's a competition between businesses and people who work for them. At the end of the two weeks, everybody gets weighed, and the business with the employees who lost the most weight gets a cash prize, put up by the businesses themselves. The employees get to decide how the money's spent, too, so they can use it for workplace improvements or cash bonuses.”

Jillian perked up. “Then it isn't about me!”

“Of course not,” Ted chuckled. “I've heard at least two men who eat in that restaurant complain because they couldn't eat those delicious cakes until the contest ended.”

“I feel so much better,” she said.

“I'm glad,” Rourke told her. “But that still doesn't solve your problem. Harris bought a Bowie knife and he doesn't hunt.” He let the implication sink in. “He's facing at least ten to fifteen on the charges if he goes back to trial and is convicted again. He's been heard saying that he'll never go back to that hellhole voluntarily. So basically he's got nothing to lose.” He glanced at Ted. “You know that already.”

Ted nodded. “Yes, I do,” he replied. He smiled at Jillian. “Which is why we're getting married Saturday.”

She gasped. “Saturday? But there's not enough time…!”

“There is. We'll manage. Meanwhile,” Ted said, “you're going to take Sassy's invitation seriously and stay out at her ranch until the ceremony. Right?”

She wanted to argue, but both males had set faces and determined expressions. So she sighed and said, “Right.”

N
ot only did John and Sassy Callister welcome Jillian as a houseguest, Sassy threw herself into wedding preparations and refused to listen to Jillian's protests.

“I've never gotten to plan a wedding, not even my own,” Sassy laughed. “John hired a professional to do it for us because so many important people came to the ceremony. So now I'm taking over preparations for yours.”

“But I can't afford this store,” the younger woman tried to complain. “They don't even put price tags on this stuff!”

Sassy gave her a smile. “John and I agreed that our wedding present to you is going to be the gown and accessories,” she said. “So you can hand it down through your family. You might have a daughter who'd love to wear it at her own wedding.”

Jillian hadn't thought about that. She became dreamy.
A child. A little girl that she could take on walks, cuddle and rock, read stories to. That was a part of marriage she'd never dwelled on before. Now, it was a delightful thought.

“So stop arguing,” Sassy said gently, “and start making choices.”

Jillian hugged her. “Thanks. For the gown and for letting me stay with you until the wedding.”

“This is what friends are for. You'd do it for me in a heartbeat if our situations were reversed.”

“Yes, but I could have gotten you killed that night by running to you for help,” Jillian said. “It torments me.”

“I was perfectly capable of handling Davy Harris. And now I've got John, who can handle anything.”

“You're very lucky. He's a good man.”

“Yes, he is,” Sassy agreed with a smile.

“I've never seen anything as beautiful as these dresses,” Jillian began.

“I hear you're getting married Saturday, Jilly,” came a cold, taunting voice from behind her.

Both women turned. Davy Harris was watching them, a nasty look on his face.

“Yes, I'm getting married,” Jillian told him.

“There was a time when I thought you'd marry me,” he said. “I had it all planned, right down to what sort of dress you'd wear and where we'd live. I'd lined up a full-time job with a local rancher. Everything was set.” His lips twisted. “Then you had to go and get outraged when I tried to show you how I felt.”

“I'll show you how I feel,” Sassy said pertly. “Where's my shotgun?”

“Terroristic threats and acts, Mrs. Callister,” he shot
back. “Suppose I call the news media and tell them that you're threatening me?”

Jillian was horrified.

Sassy just smiled. “Well, wouldn't it be a shame if that same news media suddenly got access to the trial transcripts?” she asked pleasantly.

His face hardened. “You think you're so smart. Women are idiots. My father always said so. My mother was utterly worthless. She couldn't even cook without burning something!”

Jillian stared at him. “That doesn't make a woman worthless.”

“She was always nervous,” he went on, as if she hadn't spoken. “She called the police once, but my father made sure she never did it again. They put him in prison. I never understood why. She had him locked up. He was right to make her pay for it.”

Sassy and Jillian exchanged disturbed looks.

Harris gave Jillian a chilling smile. “He died in prison. But I won't. I'm never going back.” He shrugged. “You enjoy thinking about that wedding, Jilly. Because all you're going to get to do is think about it. Have a nice day, now.”

He walked out.

The shopping trip was ruined for Jillian. Sassy insisted that they get the gown and the things that went with it, but Jillian was certain that Davy had meant what he said. He was going to try to kill her. Maybe he'd even kill himself, afterward. In his own mind, he was justified. There was no way to reason with such a person, a man who thought that his own mother deserved to die because she'd had his father arrested for apparently greatly abusing her.

“You know, there are scary people in the world,”
Jillian told Sassy in a subdued tone. “I'll bet if Uncle John had ever really talked to Davy, he'd never have let him in the front door in the first place. He's mentally disturbed, and it isn't apparent until he starts talking about himself.”

“I noticed that,” Sassy replied. She drew in a long breath. “I'm glad we have Rourke.”

Jillian frowned. “Where is he?”

“Watching us. If Harris had made a threatening move, he'd already be in jail, probably after a trip to the emergency room. I've never seen Rourke mad, but John says it's something you don't want to experience.”

“I got that impression.” She laughed. “He cooked steaks for Ted and me.”

“I heard about that,” the other woman said in an amused tone. “Ted was jealous, was he?”

“Very. But after he realized that Rourke was just being friendly and protective, his attitude changed. Apparently he knows a police chief in Texas that Ted met at a workshop back east.”

“Rourke does get around.” She glanced at Jillian. “He acts like a perpetual clown, but if you see him when he thinks he's alone, it's all an act. He's a very somber, sad person. I think he's had some rough knocks.”

“He doesn't talk about them much. Just about his ranch.”

“He doesn't talk about K.C. Kantor, either,” Sassy replied. “But there's some sound gossip about the fact that Rourke's mother was once very close to the man.”

“From what everybody says about that Kantor man, he isn't the sort to have kids.”

“That's what I thought. But a man can get into a situation where he doesn't think with his mind,” Sassy
chuckled. “And when people get careless, they have kids.”

“I'd be proud of Rourke, if I was his father.”

“You're the wrong age and gender,” Sassy said, tongue in cheek.

“Oh, you know what I mean. He's a good person.”

“He is,” Sassy said as she pulled up in front of the ranch house. “I'm glad John hired him. At least we don't have to worry about being assassinated on the way to town!”

“Amen,” Jillian sighed.

 

John Callister was an easygoing, friendly man. He didn't seem at all like a millionaire, or at least, Jillian's vision of one. He treated her as he would a little sister, and was happy to have her around.

Jillian also liked Sassy's mother, who was in poor health, and her adopted sister, Selene, who was a whiz at math and science in grammar school. John took care of them, just as he took care of Sassy.

But the easygoing personality went into eclipse when he heard that Davy Harris had followed them into the dress shop in Billings.

“The man is dangerous,” he said as they ate an early supper with Rourke.

“He is,” Rourke agreed. “He shouldn't be walking around loose in the first place. What the hell is wrong with the criminal justice system in this country?”

John gave him a droll look. “It's better than the old vigilante system of the distant past,” he pointed out. “And it usually works.”

“Not with Harris,” Rourke replied, his jaw set as he munched on a chef's salad. “He can put on a good act for a while, but he can't keep it up. He starts talking,
and you see the lunacy underneath the appearance of sanity.”

“Disturbed people often don't know they're disturbed,” Sassy said.

“That's usually the case, I'm sad to say,” Rourke added. “People like Harris always think they're being persecuted.”

“I knew a guy once who was sure the government sent invisible spies to watch him,” John mused. “He could see them, but nobody else could. He worked for us one summer on the ranch back home. Gil and I put up with him because he was the best horse wrangler we'd ever had. But that was a mistake.”

“How so?” Rourke asked.

“Well, he had this dog. It was vicious and he refused to get rid of it. One day it came right up on the porch and threatened Gil's little girls. Gil punched him and fired him. Then he started cutting fences and killing cattle. At the last, he tried to kill us. He ended up in prison, too.”

“Good heavens!” Jillian said. “No wonder you hired a bodyguard for Sassy.”

“Exactly,” John replied tersely. He didn't mention that Sassy had been the victim of a predator herself, in the feed store where she was working when they met. That man was serving time now.

His eyes lingered on Sassy with warm affection. “No body's hurting my best girl. Or her best friend,” he declared with a grin at Jillian.

“Not while I'm on the job,” Rourke added, chuckling. “You could marry me, you know,” he told Jillian. “I really do have most of my own teeth left, and I can cook. Your fiancé can't boil water, I hear.”

“That's true,” Jillian said, smiling. “But I've known
him most of my life, and we think the same way about most things. We'll have a good marriage.” She was sure of that. Ted would be gentle, and patient, and he'd rid her of the distaste Davy had left in her about physical relationships. She'd never been more certain of anything.

“Well, it's a great shame,” Rourke said with a theatrical sigh. “I'll have to go back home to my ugly cattle and live in squalor because nobody wants to take care of me.”

“You'll find some lovely girl who will be happy living on a small farm in Africa,” Jillian assured him.

John almost choked on his coffee.

Rourke gave him a cold glare.

“What is wrong with you?” Sassy asked her husband.

He wiped his mouth, still stifling laughter. “Private joke,” he said, sharing a look with Rourke, who sighed and shrugged.

“But it had better be somebody who can dress bullet wounds,” John added with a twinkle in his eyes as he glanced at the other man.

“I only get shot occasionally,” Rourke assured him. “And I usually duck in time.”

“That's true,” John agreed, forking another piece of steak into his mouth. “He only has one head wound, and it doesn't seem to have affected his thinking processes.” He didn't mention the lost eye, because Rourke was sensitive about it.

“That was a scalp wound,” Rourke replied, touching a faint scar above his temple. He glared at the other man from a pale brown eye. “And not from a bullet. It was from a knife.”

“Poor thing,” Jillian murmured.

John choked on his steak.

“Will you stop?” Rourke muttered.

“Sorry.” John coughed. He sipped coffee.

Jillian wished she knew what they were talking about. But it was really none of her business, and she had other worries.

 

The wedding gown was exquisite. She couldn't stop looking at it. She hung it on the door in the guest bedroom and sighed over it at every opportunity.

Ted came by to visit frequently and they took long walks in the woods, to talk and to indulge in a favorite of dating couples, the hot physical interludes that grew in intensity by the day.

He held her hand and walked with her down a long path through the snow, his fingers warm and strong in hers.

“I can't stand it if I go a whole day without seeing you,” he said out of the bue.

She stopped walking and looked up at him with pure wonder. “Really?”

He pulled her into his arms. “Really.” He bent and kissed her slowly, feeling her respond, feeling her warm lips open and move tenderly. She reached her arms up around his neck as if it was the most natural thing in the world. He smiled against her lips. It was a delightful surprise, her easy response to him.

“Maybe I can get used to Sammy following me around, and you can get used to me shooting targets off the front porch,” he teased.

She grinned. “Maybe you can teach me to shoot, too.”

He looked shocked. “I can?”

“We should share some interests,” she said wisely.
“You always go to that shooting range and practice. I could go with you sometimes.”

He was surprised and couldn't hide it.

She toyed with a shirt button. “I don't like being away from you, either, Ted,” she confessed and flushed a little. “It's so sweet…”

He pulled her close. One lean hand swept down her back, riveting her to his powerful body. “Sweeter than honey,” he managed before he kissed her.

His hand pushed her hips against the sudden hardness of his own, eliciting a tiny sound from her throat. But it wasn't protest. If anything, she moved closer.

He groaned out loud and ground her hips into his.

“I can't wait until Saturday,” he said in a husky tone, easing his hands under Jillian's blouse, under the bra to caress her soft breasts. “I'm dying!”

“So am I,” she whispered shakily. “Oh, Ted!” she gasped when he pulled the garments out of his way and covered her breast with his mouth. It was so sweet. Too sweet for words!

He didn't realize what he was doing until they were lying on the cold ground, in the snow, while he kissed her until she was breathless.

She was shaking when he lifted his head, but not from cold or fear. Her eyes held the same frustrated desire that his held.

“I want to, so much!” she whispered.

“So do I,” he replied.

For one long instant, they clung together on the hard ground, with snow making damp splotches all down Jillian's back and legs, while they both fought for control.

Ted clenched his hands beside her head and closed
his eyes as he rested his forehead against hers. He was rigid, helplessly aroused and unable to hide it.

She smoothed back his black hair and pressed soft, undemanding little kisses all over his taut face, finally against the closed eyelids and short thick black lashes.

“It's all right,” she whispered. “It's all right.”

He was amazed at the effect those words, and the caresses, had on him. They eased the torment. They calmed him, in the sweetest way he'd ever imagined. He smiled against her soft throat.