Carolyn Davidson - Lone Star Bride

“As far as being ‘nothing but trouble,’ no, not really,” she said finally, hurting that he thought of her in that light, his scornful look making her feel small and insignificant before him. He’d walked from the water and stood just in front of her, unashamed of his nakedness, it seemed, and unwilling to turn aside from her scrutiny.

He was magnificent, black-haired, blue-eyed and, altogether, a giant of a man well over six feet tall. Not that he was built on bulky lines, but she’d noticed him, tall and tapered from shoulders to hips, long legged with taut thighs under denim pants that seemed to have been made for him. He was enough to make a woman’s mouth water, she’d thought, her mind a fog.

And now he had shed those trousers before he went into the stream and right before her eyes was the proof of his masculinity, bold and brazen, obviously ready for business.

“Why don’t you put your clothes on?” she asked, noting the uneven tenor of her voice.

“I was here first,” he told her. “I didn’t invite you to invade my bath. But since you have, you’ll have to take the consequences.”

She felt her heart pick up speed. Whatever he meant by that enigmatic statement was up for grabs. And she wasn’t about to ask any questions as to his meaning. Instead, she gathered up her things and rose. Now, as never before, she sensed his power, his strength, the force of his masculine being, and she rued her impetuous behavior.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have interrupted you. I’ll leave.”

He took her arm, not in a tight grip, but firmly enough so that she knew she could not escape him should she try. “Why don’t you stay, now that we’ve become better acquainted?” he asked.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” she said quickly.

He laughed and turned her to face him. “Don’t you?”

“Yes, well I suppose I do, but I don’t agree. The fact that I’ve seen you naked doesn’t make our acquaintance any more welcome to me.” She tried to look anywhere but at his body, but the brush of dark hair on his chest tempted her to touch the curls and weave her fingers through the lush length of silky fur he wore. It narrowed into a slender arrow, pointing downward, and she knew without looking just what lay in that direction.

“You’re blushing,” he said quietly. “Am I to assume you’ve never seen a naked man before?”

“You’d assume right,” she answered, with heat still rising in her face.

“Well, don’t let me hinder your first experience,” he said softly, his other hand moving to wrap long fingers around her shoulder, then drawing her closer.

“Don’t,” she said harshly. “I’ll get all wet.” Then she wondered if it might not be worth it to have his body against her own.

His laughter mocked her. “Does that matter? Don’t you want to know what sort of danger you’ve gotten yourself into?”

“You won’t hurt me,” she told him, looking up into blue eyes that were amused at her expense.

“Maybe not, but then again, they tell me that a woman’s first time is usually painful,” he said softly. His slow enunciation of words, the mellow tone of his voice lulled her a bit, but she rallied quickly. He was laying it on pretty thick, but unless she was mighty mistaken, he wouldn’t take any chance of her father chasing after him with a shotgun.

“I’m not afraid of you,” she said, wondering at the quiver in her voice.

“Aren’t you? Then why are you trembling?”

Her hands had rested against his chest and as she watched, her fingers fought to be still, her body shook as if it were chilled from a summer cold.

She felt her mouth twitch, knew a moment of despair then bent her head, knowing she owed him an apology, hoping it would appease him so that she might leave. “Please let me go, Jamie. I’m sorry I intruded. Just let me—”

Her words were cut off abruptly as he bent to her, one hand forcing her head erect, so that their eyes met. His mouth was hot, and open against hers, and his scent, that of a male who has seen his mate and intends to blend his body with hers, enveloped her.

How did she know? What inner sense allowed her to so easily judge the aroma of an aroused man? But, all her confusion aside, she knew she was in imminent danger, not only from the man who held her, but from herself. For she welcomed his kiss, leaned into his embrace as though it were the answer to her prayers, and now his questing male member was making its intention known against her belly.

Fear of the unknown sped down the length of her spine, and she leaned away from him. “Don’t do this to me. Please,” she whispered. And felt, to her amazement, his hands fall from her as he stepped back, offering her the freedom she’d begged for.

“Go on. Catch up with the chuck wagon. I’ll be right behind you, Alex.”

Without a second thought, she darted away, running to where her horse was tied and mounted quickly. The mare ran like lightning, as if she’d been set free to do as she pleased, and Alexis clung to her like a burr, unable to sit upright, content to hold on with tenuous strength to the dark mane, ignoring the reins that dangled.

Behind her, she heard his shout. “Alex. Get ahold of those reins and slow that horse down before you get dumped.” And then his words were lost on the wind that blew past her ears. Smart enough to heed his warning, she soothed the mare, reaching low for the reins, forcing herself to sit erect in the saddle, gaining control over the madcap fashion in which she’d allowed the animal to behave.

The mare snorted, shivered and tossed her head, unwilling to comply with Alexis’s command, but trained well enough to obey the reins that held her down to a canter, and finally to a walk.

She felt his presence right behind her, and she touched the mare’s barrel with her heels, urging her into a faster pace. Ahead of her was the sanctuary of the cook wagon, where she would be safe from the man who followed her. For all his audacity, he would not infringe on her now, but she felt the need of a buffer, and Cookie would serve well.

Pulling her mare down to a trot beside his perch on the high seat of the chuck wagon, she signaled to Cookie and he drew the vehicle to a crawl. With the skill of a woman used to horses and the ways of a ranch, she brought her right leg over the saddle and stepped up on the wagon. The reins in her hand were easily tied to the seat and her mare trotted alongside without a hitch.

“Well, you sure haven’t forgotten how to do that,” Cookie said, grinning a gap-toothed smile in her direction.

“I grew up here,” Alex said. “I can do most anything the men can do on this ranch.”

“Well, I’d say you were a sight better at blindsiding that new foreman than anyone else on the place.” He laughed as if he’d observed the shenanigans by the streambed. “I saw you chasing off after him, Alex. You want to watch your step with that one. He’s a sharp fella, and he’ll give you a run for your money.”

“I’m not afraid of him,” she said scornfully.

“No,” he said slowly, “I don’t expect you are. But you’d better respect him. He’s no fool and he’s not about to put up with your teasing him.”

“I didn’t tease him,” she said, disgruntled at his words.

“No, of course you didn’t. And the sun didn’t rise this morning, either. Just watch yourself, honey. Your pa don’t need to be running after that man with a shotgun, but I think he’d do just that very thing if you make the wrong move. I wouldn’t push the fella too far, is what I’m trying to say.”

“I’m old enough to take care of myself, Cookie,” she said sharply. Her old friend saw too much, was too wise to ignore what he saw and didn’t mind expressing his opinion.