Rosemary Carter - Cowboy To The Altar

Morgan looked at him hopefully. ‘An outbuilding?’

‘The ranch-house.’

‘I will not sleep with you, Jason Delaney!’ The words were out before Morgan realized how they would sound.

Jason’s hands gripped her arms. They were big hands, and strong. Hands that would be able to rope a steer just as competently as the hands of any of the cowboys. Hands that would rouse a woman to unimaginable heights with the same ease. Morgan was suddenly burning hot.

‘Don’t remember inviting you to sleep with me,’ Jason drawled sarcastically.

Morgan stared at him angrily. ‘It wouldn’t matter if you had. Either way the answer would have been the same.’

An eyebrow lifted. ‘Fact is,’ Jason went on drily, ‘for several good reasons you can’t sleep in the car—so the house is your only option. And I refuse—do you hear me, Morgan? I refuse to argue about it any more.’

In silence they made their way to the house. They walked side by side yet apart, as if each was determined to keep a deliberate distance from the other.

As they went inside Morgan remembered her first impression of the house—that it would have been lovely if it had not been quite so spartan. It was tidy and spotlessly clean, but devoid of any personal touch. There were few pictures, no vases of flowers and not a single ornament.

When Jason had put down Morgan’s suitcase in a guest room that was as neat and functional as the rest of the house he rounded on her. ‘Suppose you tell me what you were doing in the bunkhouse?’

‘I’ve already told you, I needed a place to sleep.’

‘Don’t remember telling you to go to the bunkhouse, Morgan.’

‘You didn’t, exactly—well, at least, not in so many words.’

One eyebrow lifted. ‘You’d better explain since I’m not in the mood for riddles.’

The arrogance of his expression was annoying. ‘You said I’d be treated just like the men.’

Jason stared at Morgan, before breaking into sudden and unexpected laughter. ‘What I said was that you shouldn’t expect special treatment.’ The laughter stopped as his dark eyes studied her intently. ‘I also said—’ his voice was quiet now ‘—that it would be difficult to think of you as one of them.’ His eyes were on her breasts and her hips. ‘In fact,’ he added drily, ‘it would be impossible.’

The expression in Jason’s eyes, that odd tone in his voice, made Morgan shiver. She tried to make herself ignore the feelings he awoke in her. She was already far too aware of his overwhelming masculinity—a quality that had as much to do with his superb build and looks as with his ever-present aura of strength and power. Jason was an implacable adversary, and it was imperative that she kept a clear head in all her dealings with him.

‘Didn’t it occur to you that you were humiliating me?’ she demanded indignantly. ‘Bossing me about in the bunkhouse. Demeaning me in front of the men—in front of that odious Hank. Threatening me.’

‘You didn’t get out of bed the first time I asked you.’

‘Only because the cowboys were standing around, and I was waiting for them to move away. I didn’t want a bunch of guys watching me. Besides, you didn’t ask, Jason, you ordered me.’

‘Have it your own way.’ Jason was impatient now. ‘We keep getting back to one fact. I didn’t invite you to my ranch, Morgan. I wouldn’t have let you have the job had I known about it. I can’t help it if you look at a request as an order. I don’t really care. One thing I do ask you to remember—I am boss here, and if you choose to stay I expect you to play by my rules.’

‘I don’t seem to have any other option,’ Morgan said tensely. And then, because she couldn’t help being interested, she asked, ‘Would you really have carried me out of the bunkhouse?’

‘You bet I would,’ he told her crisply.

He stood not two feet from her, towering above her and radiating such a powerful aura of sexuality that Morgan’s nerve endings felt raw. She ached with the longing to be swept up into those powerful arms and to feel the beat of his heart against her cheek.

Reluctant for Jason to read her emotions in her eyes, she forced herself to look away from him. Unsteadily she said, ‘Despite anything you might think, I’d have been OK in the bunkhouse.’

‘What makes you think that?’

‘I’ve been around men. I can take care of myself.’

‘You really believe you could have handled those cowboys?’ he taunted.

‘Sure. Why not?’

‘I’ll tell you why not.’ Jason’s voice was hard. ‘They’re a lusty lot. Women are a rarity out here, Morgan, and when they’re about they attract attention.’

She knew what he was trying to tell her but his arrogance drove her to challenge him. ‘I still believe I’d have coped.’

‘Don’t be so sure, woman. You’ve only been here a few hours and already there’s tension on the ranch. You’d be blind if you hadn’t noticed it. Hank, aggressive and on the prowl. Charlie, ready to protect you. Too ready. I won’t have violence at Six-Gate Corral, Morgan. The odd spat is normal enough when you get a bunch of men, living and working together—especially tough men, as these are. But out-and-out fighting, alliances forming, one lot of men against another—that kind of thing leads to major trouble. I won’t tolerate it, Morgan.’

‘I don’t like violence any more than you do, Jason.’

‘Then let me warn you, if you insist on staying—and I’m asking you not to—sooner or later the men will come to blows over you.’

‘I don’t believe that,’ she said heatedly. ‘They won’t fight because of me. I won’t be doing anything to encourage them.’

‘You can’t help being yourself, Morgan. Hank won’t change and Charlie will for ever defend what he thinks of as your honour, poor misguided fool.’

Morgan suppressed a shiver. ‘Don’t you think that in time the men will accept me as one of them?’

Jason gave a short laugh. ‘How can they?’ He studied her a few seconds in silence. When he went on his eyes were hard. ‘You said you went to the bunkhouse because you needed a place to sleep. Was that the only reason, Morgan?’

‘What other reason could I possibly have had?’

‘That’s what I’m wondering.’ His tone was heavy with sarcasm.

It wasn’t difficult to understand what he meant. Feeling a little ill, Morgan stared up into the ruggedly handsome face. ‘Why do you dislike me so much, Jason?’ she asked at last. ‘To my knowledge, I’ve done nothing to offend you yet from the moment I came here you’ve shown me nothing but hostility. Why?’

Jason ignored the question. Instead he said relentlessly, ‘Didn’t it occur to you that your presence in the bunkhouse would be regarded as an invitation?’

‘No—because I tried so hard not to be seen.’ Her voice shook.

She saw the flash of steel in his dark eyes and the movement of muscle in his hard jaw. ‘A woman in a bed meant for a man. Come on, Morgan, don’t pretend you’re naïve because I don’t believe it for a moment.’

‘Don’t you care that you’re insulting me, Jason?’

‘Is that what I’m doing?’ he jeered.

‘Yes! How do you think the things you say make me feel?’

Brooding eyes ravaged her face. ‘OK, Morgan, supposing you only went to the bunkhouse to sleep, what would you have done if one of the men had tried something? Really tried?’

‘I’d have defended myself,’ she said shortly. And when she saw the cynical look in his eyes she added, ‘I thought I’d made that clear in the bunkhouse.’

‘You spoke a few brave words. Don’t suppose they meant anything.’

‘Oh, but they did. Neither you nor Charlie would have had to help me, Jason. You see, I’ve been to a self-defence class.’