Rosemary Carter - Cowboy To The Altar

‘Charlie’s appointed himself the lady’s shining knight,’ Hank said in disgust. ‘Won’t do, Boss. We’ve all had a hard day; we need to eat. Pretty lady here may make a man feel good at night, but she sure doesn’t know what it takes to feed one.’

‘Watch what you say, cowboy.’ Morgan spoke with a firmness that not a few men would have had rueful cause to recognize, the same firmness with which she addressed men who tried to take liberties with her. Most of the time it was successful in keeping unwanted advances at bay.

Hank, however, was unabashed. ‘Oh, yeah?’ came the insolent drawl.

‘You have a foul mouth, cowboy. I won’t stand for it.’

‘Oh, yeah?’ Hank said again.

‘That’s enough,’ Jason warned levelly.

‘But—’ Morgan said hotly, only to stop as a warning hand closed over her arm.

She was unprepared for the tingling that shot instantly from her wrist all the way up to her shoulder. But the touch did not last for seconds later Jason was turning back to the men.

‘This is Morgan,’ he said calmly. ‘She’s substituting for Brent. She means well but she’s not familiar with our ways yet. Say, why don’t you guys kick a ball around outside? We’ll have some more dinner ready for you in a jiffy.’

To Morgan’s surprise, the cowboys did as he suggested. Minutes later she could hear a ball-game starting near the cookhouse.

Jason’s defence of her had been so unexpected that she said gratefully, ‘Thanks for coming to my rescue.’

The rancher placed a pile of frozen steak to thaw in a huge microwave, before turning to her. Aloofly he said, ‘I didn’t do it for you.’

‘I thought...’ She broke off, dismayed at the hardness she saw in the ruggedly chiselled face. Not for the first time she wondered why Jason had taken such a dislike to her.

‘Didn’t fancy a mutiny on my hands,’ he said drily.

‘A mutiny?’

‘You heard what Hank said—they’re men and they’re hungry.’

‘I didn’t cook enough and I’m sorry about that. But that Hank, he’s crude and a big-mouth,’ Morgan said hotly.

‘He’s also,’ the rancher said, ‘one of the finest cowboys on this ranch.’

‘It doesn’t bother you—the way he talks?’

‘As I said, Hank is an excellent cowboy.’ Jason’s tone was abrupt. ‘An expert at roping a steer or calming an excited horse.’

‘That doesn’t excuse his manners.’

‘I don’t hire men for their fine manners, Miss Muir.’

Her head jerked up. Morgan had never met a man like Jason Delaney—so sexy that her legs felt a little weak when she looked at him, and at the same time so cold and arrogant and contemptuous.

An unaccustomed wildness drove her to speak without thinking. ‘Maybe that’s because you don’t have any manners yourself, Mr Delaney. You’ve been rude from the moment you set eyes on me.’

A hand shot out, grabbing Morgan’s wrist and closing around it with fingers like iron. Dark eyes spoke volumes of contempt. ‘If telling you that I disapprove of your presence at my ranch makes me rude then perhaps that’s what I am. I didn’t invite you here, Morgan. You’re quite free to leave any time you like.’

Morgan tried to suppress the flames which were once more searing her arm, the sudden thudding of her heart and the treacherous, utterly unwelcome stirrings deep in her loins. ‘You’re forgetting the contract.’

Sparks flashed in Jason’s eyes. ‘Notwithstanding the contract.’

‘I know you want to see me go,’ she taunted.

He chose not to answer the taunt directly. ‘You shouldn’t have come in the first place—but you know that.’

‘Brent wouldn’t agree with you.’

‘After the disastrous meal you produced?’

‘Was it really so bad?’ She tried to hide her distress.

Jason didn’t answer her immediately. Tensely Morgan watched him at the microwave, taking out one lot of steak and putting in another.

When he looked back at Morgan his lips were tight. ‘You saw the reaction of the men,’ he said brusquely. ‘Hank was right about one thing—the cowboys have been out on the range since dawn, sweating it out in the heat and the dust. Riding hard, working hard physically. They come back here, expecting a decent meal, and look what they got instead. They had every reason to be angry.’

‘It was a mistake.’ Her tone was low. ‘I realize now that I didn’t cook enough, but I did do my best.’

‘You should have known, Morgan.’

‘If Brent had stayed to explain...to show me around...’ For some reason it was very important that this very dynamic man should think well of her.

‘Any ranch cook worth his or her salt should know how to prepare a meal for a bunch of hungry men.’ His tone was a shade dry. ‘I wish I knew what you were thinking of when you applied for the job, Morgan.’

If only he were not so unyielding. Morgan swallowed hard. ‘I told you, it’s important to me...’

Jason put the thawed steak on the cookhouse grill, then opened a few huge cans of chili. Nobody would go hungry that night, after all.

He turned his head to look at her. A little roughly he said, ‘It won’t work out, you know.’

‘You’re wrong, it will!’

‘I don’t believe it, Morgan. If you’re honest, neither do you.’

‘But I do! And I mean to stay.’

‘I think you should leave tomorrow.’

‘Are you firing me?’ Her voice shook.

Jason was quiet for a few seconds, and Morgan saw a little muscle move in his hard jaw. ‘I don’t have grounds to fire you,’ he said at last, ‘but I’m asking you to go.’

Morgan looked at him unhappily. ‘I made a mistake,’ she whispered. ‘That’s all it was. People have to learn.’

‘There will be other mistakes.’

‘Not if I can help it.’

‘I don’t see any point in waiting, Morgan.’

Suddenly Morgan was very angry. If she didn’t fight Jason he would destroy her dream.

‘I won’t let you do this to me!’ Her voice throbbed with passion. ‘I deserve a chance.’

‘Doesn’t it mean anything to you that you’re riot wanted at this ranch?’

The words were like a hard blow in the stomach, but Morgan managed to hide her shock. Her chin lifted. ‘Not a thing,’ she lied.

She braced herself for Jason’s next verbal assault but, oddly, he was silent. For a few seconds the only sounds in the cookhouse came from the sizzling of the meat and the loud ticking of the clock on the wall.

And then Jason’s expression changed. Morgan saw his eyes going over her, and she drew in her breath. At twenty-two she was used to men. She was often photographed with male models, sometimes just posing with them, often with an arm slung around her shoulders and now and then a hint at something more amorous. Many a man had wanted to make love to her, inside as well as outside the confines of a studio, but she had never been interested. She had learned how to decline, politely but firmly, and still remain friends.

For some reason her reaction to this man was different. Morgan had never felt so disturbed and uncertain. Jason Delaney was undressing her with his eyes and she felt stripped and naked, acutely aware of the sparks which seemed to fill the air between them and conscious of his overwhelming maleness and of her own femininity.

‘It really means nothing to you that you’re not wanted?’ he asked softly.

‘I can only tell you that I intend to do my best.’ Her voice was not quite steady.

In the dark eyes there was a flash of steel and once more that tic in his jaw. ‘It won’t be easy,’ he warned.

‘Maybe not.’ The look she shot him was deliberately provocative. ‘But I asked you earlier not to frighten me. Don’t you understand that your scare tactics have no effect on me?’