Dog Wood Bride

by Jillian Hart

"Come to fetch you." He reached up when the stallion skidded to a stop and grabbed hold of his rope halter. "Apparently you don't have sense to come in out of the rain."

  "Oh, we have the sense, just not the motivation."

  "Or the will. You're having a lot of fun out here." Her joy felt contagious. "I hate to ruin your fun, but you really should come in before lightning strikes."

  "I know that it's not exactly safe out here."

  "Then what are you doing out in this storm?"

  "I'm blaming it all on Orville. It's all his fault. He didn't want to be caught, and I decided to ride him in."

  "By taking the long way through the pasture a few times?"

  "I couldn't resist. Oh, the storm is gorgeous, isn't it?" She looked up at the churn of charcoal clouds and the sizzle of lightning. "What does it say about you that you came out to fetch us?"

  "That I have no common sense either, clearly."

  Lightning flared overhead, the long bolt flashing eerily bright. The air crackled, and every hair on his forearms stood straight up. Before he could say a word, thunder cannoned, deafening enough to drown out all sound.

  Orville sidestepped in surprise, and Brennan held on, guiding him through the gate and under the covered walkway into the barn.

  "Look at it rain!" Skye slipped off the stallion's side and landed with a splash.

  She sidestepped and tugged down the drenched petticoats and skirts and wiggled, attempting to get them to fall correctly down to touch the toes of her boots.

  "I can't believe it, look at it rain! We really need it for everything to grow. We've had a dry spring so far." She finger-combed wet curls out of her face. "It's coolish, though, I'm shivering. You're wet through, too."

  "And that's your fault."

  "You didn't have to come out to get me, you know, although it was awfully nice of you."

  Her gentle soprano had an affect on him. He swallowed, fighting against the wish he didn't want to let his heart make.

  Loneliness had made him vulnerable to the suggestion he take this job. He hung his head for a moment, led the stallion into the barn and down the main aisle. She was roping him in against her will.

  He wasn't the sort to think a regular life would fit him well. He was here for one reason and one reason only.

  He took one long look behind him out the open barn doors where rain splashed and winds gusted and the long rolling beauty of the foothills meeting the Rockies took a man's breath away.

  He wasn't prepared for his reaction to the woman who tugged the lead rope from his hand and swirled away like a waltz.

  She was just a dream, that was all.

  The stallion nickered greetings to the other horses, walking confidently dripping wet, nickering in approval at the grain waiting in his feed tray. He strolled into his stall and got to work lipping up the tasty treat.

  "Someone has to make sure you know to stay out of the rain. Are you going to let me do that?" Brennan grabbed a towel and slipped into Orville's stall.

  "Don't worry, I get to do what I want on my own place. That's why I bought it."

  "You seem happy here. That's a good thing." He swept off his dripping hat. He decided that she didn't need to know that a woman like her was all he had ever wanted, once, when he'd been young enough to dream and before he'd lost everything.

  Orville pressed his muzzle against the curve of her neck, seeking comfort.

  "It's all right, sweet boy." She pressed her forehead against his cheek. "I know you are disappointed. But Brennan thought we should come in out of the rain."

  "Instead of stand there in the downpour with lightning overhead?" he asked, taking the towel to the sopping wet horse.

  "That's part of the fun, to watch the storm together." Joy sparkled like gold in her eyes.

  What a picture they were, the woman and her horse, clearly the best of friends.

  That's the way it should be. Brennan's chest warmed like a new flame coming to life in his heart. Yep, Skye was everything he'd ever wanted.

  The big, beautiful horse nibbled her cheek in a kiss that must tickle. She chuckled. "Stop, oh, that's a good boy."

  Orville did it again, nibbling her chin and she laughed out loud. "You are trouble, good boy. You are absolute trouble, do you know that?"

  "That's my good job." Claude padded into sight pushing the wheelbarrow full of fresh hay. "At least for now. Looks like you know how to handle a horse, Brennan."

  "I'm not just hot air." He amicably surrendered the towel and stepped back into the aisle. "The other horses seem be handling the thunderstorm well enough."

  "They know they're safe here." Skye answered, latching the stall gate behind her. "I'll be back, handsome Orville, don't you worry."

  The stallion's adoring gaze pleaded with her to stay and love him up more. But her teeth were chattering. She really should get to the house and change before she caught a bothersome cold.

  Brennan hesitated in the aisle. Rain hurled in as the wind changed directions, bouncing off the ground like wet pellets tumbling from sky to earth.

  "Why are you stopping?" Skye untied her sunbonnet, which was still hanging down her back, and removed it entirely. She squeezed rain out of the poor sodden garment. "Are you afraid of a little downpour?"

  "I'm not sure you should venture out in that."

  "We'll it's not like it's hailing."

  "Yet. Look, it's coming." The gray of rain turned to white and the heft of the rain hitting the barn changed to hard, icy thumps. "Brr, that wind is cold."

  "We're stuck here until that stops."

  "We are?"

  "It's only gonna get worse."

  The hail pellets began to grow whiter and wider. Small little balls, like pebbles, fell in straight sheets, to coat the ground. The sound was deafening.

  "You were right!" Her teeth chattered.

  "I have a knack for telling the weather."

  She shivered.

  "It's not my only knack." He rolled his eyes. "You're freezing."

  "Unlike you, I didn't think it would get this cold."

  "I have enough sense to wear my coat." She was so little, so sweet and heart-tugging, that he slipped off his jacket. "You're like a ragamuffin, a waif. And you look like a beggar on the street."

  "I look worse than that." She shoved a tendril of wet hair out of her eyes. "I'm a drowned rat."

  "You're a disaster. A disgrace. No ranch owner worth his salt would stand outside in the rain. Or hail."

  "I may not be terribly practical," she quipped.

  Just kidding, he knew. No woman so educated and elegant could be anything but impressive. And what an impressive sight she was with her pretty blue dress plastered against her shapely body.

  He tried not to gawk at the hug of the fabric against her full breasts, accentuating her slender hips and lean thighs.

  Don't stare at her, Mosley, he told himself, but his eyes refused to zip away from the elegant and sensual way she tossed her braid over her shoulder, gave her skirt a little wring. Water splashed onto the floor.

  Funny.

  "I'm dripping very badly," she confessed. "It's a little embarrassing."

  "Your hair is dripping too." He slipped his coat over her shoulders. The bulk of it engulfed her, and she instantly snuggled into it, warm from his body heat.

  He had to clear his throat. "This will keep you warm."

  "My teeth are chattering." She tried to stick her arm into one sleeve.

  He held it for her to make it easier. Then the other sleeve. She gazed up at him, quaking from head to toe.

  Of course, it didn't help she stood in the wind's current, blowing in hard from the north.

  "Your lips are blue." He pulled her against him, into his side. "There, is that better?"

  She nodded. He was surprised she didn't pull away.

  "I'm just doing the right thing here." He wanted to be clear about that. "I can't have you freeze to death. Lending you my coat is the gentlemanly thing to do. Is there anything el
se I can do?"

  "You make a good wind block." She felt slight against him, her slender body barely grazing his. "I'm less chilly."

  "And your teeth aren't clacking together."

  "It seems this is an improvement. Thank you." She sounded uncomfortable, her voice slightly strained. "It isn't as if I can make a run for home."

  "No, you would get hit in the head with one of the rock-sized hail stones." The wind gusted harder, so he curved his body against her, side to side, feeling her tremble less. "You might get knocked unconscious and go down like a sack of potatoes. I've seen it happen."

  "To who?"

  "Me." He chuckled, tightening his arm around her, liking how she leaned into him, probably just for his warmth. But it was nice.

  Desire pulsed through him and spilled into his blood until every inch of him was hot. And hard. Nothing had ever felt this right as he listened to the soft lilt of her laughter.

  "You? What happened?"

  He gave her his most charming grin. Maybe it would help keep her from thinking the worst of him. "I was a hired gun for a ranch over in New Mexico and a storm broke out, a hard rain that had us all looking up."

  "New Mexico, huh?"

  "I smelled ice in the air, opened my mouth to say it and a hailstone knocked the hat right off my head and hit me right in the forehead. It startled me so bad, I fell off the back of my horse, hit my head on the ground and that's when the hail started to really fall."

  "So it wasn't just the hail that knocked you out."

  "I woke up bruised all over from that hailstorm. My fellow hired hands stood over me trying to block the worst of it. Luckily, I woke up before the twister came through."

  "Was it difficult to be a tough gunslinger after that? De-hatted by a hailstone?"

  "I never lived it down. Somewhere around a campfire on that ranch just south of Santa Fe, cowhands, wranglers and hired guns are retelling the tale of the dumb gunman who took a hail ball to the noggin."

  "If it's any consolation, maybe they tell that story with sympathy and not because they're making fun of you."

  "That makes me feel a whole lot better." His laughter made him bold. And his lips brushed her temple, caught in the silk of her hair.

  Tenderness exploded through him, bright and illuminating, one weakness he could not fight. She pressed her cheek against his chest, burrowing into his warmth, just for a moment.

  Every bit of pain, every bit of heartache in his past faded, became nothing at all. His lips brushed her temple, just the lightest feathering. Tenderness expanded, moving through him until it was all he was.

  Yep, he was in trouble, all right. She hesitated, before she moved away. And when she looked up at him, a whole world of regard shone.

  Footfalls sounded in the aisle behind him. Claude gave the wheelbarrow a push. "Brennan, the wild mare looks ready to jump out of that stall. She's lathered up real good with fear."

  "I'll go sweet-talk her." He'd already dropped his arm, but he realized he'd been too forward. Done too much. Claude's dark look said it.

  So did Skye's quietness.

  The stallion's shadow, visible through the doorway, became less ghost-like and more substantial as the hail tuned to rain.

  "I'll take that out, Claude, thanks," she said quietly, the last words of hers he heard as he walked away.

  14

  Dawn's light skimmed across the ocean of meadows and woods, grass and trees in full leaf rippling like the ocean tide rolling in.

  Yesterday's storm had blown on, the hail balls melted and the sun peering between banks of white clouds promised to shine bright for the day.

  Ever hopeful, Skye splashed warm water over her face, standing at the basin on her bedroom bureau. The day before lingered in her thoughts, unable to be forgotten.

  She patted dry with a clean hand towel, listening to the birds chatter and sing as they did every morning, as if nothing had changed.

  But it had. She'd been in a man's arms, correct that, she'd leaned boldly into the hot iron of his side and had worn his jacket.

  She'd breathed in the warm pleasant scent of soap, clean man and wood smoke that clung to the garment as she'd spread feed in the wild horse feeder.

  The stallion had eyed her warily, as if ready to charge her if she showed any aggression toward his beloved band of mares and foals, his to protect, but he chose to stay back watchfully.

  Then she'd shrugged out of the garment, hung it on the peg near the barn door for Brennan to find and slipped through the rain into the house. The warm, smokey piney scent of him seemed to cling in her memory.

  How nice it had been in his arms, to breathe him in when she'd leaned her cheek to his chest, just briefly, and felt his lips kiss her lightly above the temple.

  Oops! She nearly dropped the hand towel. Pay attention to what you're doing, Skye, and do not dwell on the man so much. But that didn't stop her from fumbling with the comb and dropping it on the bureau.

  She ran the comb through her hair, dropped it again and frowned at her reflection in the mirror.

  If she closed her eyes, she could recall every detail of Brennan's rock-hard, strong arms around her. His tenderness had radiated off him like heat from a stove and into her, becoming a part of her.

  And that could not be erased.

  She hurried down the steps, careful not to wake her sister who reliably slept in, since there were no parents around with their watchful eyes and standards of acceptable behavior.

  A soft mauve glow warmed the kitchen window as she slipped into the room. She pushed open the curtain panels to reveal the dawning morning.

  She saw mostly twilight awash with pre-dawn mauve and rosy pink painting the underbellies of clouds overhead. The colors spilled across the eastern sky and glowed like stardust over the whispering meadows and rustling trees.

  All it took was snaring her coat off the wall peg and opening the door, and she was out in the peaceful kiss of hope before dawn.

  The reminders of yesterday's storm lay all around her. The brighter green of the full-leafed trees caught the first gold of sunrise. The delicate blossoms of the flowering trees were wind-blown, some blossoms carpeting the lawn like confetti. The air was fresh, the sky like new.

  The scent of wood smoke drew her attention away from the path at her feet. Across the green, near the paddock, was the small bunkhouse. Gray smoke curled up from the stovepipe, and lamplight gleamed in the front windows. That's where Brennan had slept through the night. Perhaps tucked in that large corner room with that brand new furniture.

  Was she smiling? Her step felt lighter, too, as she squished across the lawn. The earth was soggy in low places where water had pooled, and she padded around them toward the barn.

  There he is. He stood framed by the open barn doors with both hands held out to Minnie in her stall. The mare placed her muzzle in his hands, but it was the man Skye saw.

  He stood in profile, and so the brim of his black Stetson sat at a jaunty angle and shadowed most of his granite, rugged face. She could only see the whisker-rough line of his strong, angled jaw and his smile as he spoke to the mare.

  His big, capable hands stroked Minnie's muzzle, making her motionless with bliss. Her eyes flickered closed because of the soothing reassurance of his touch.

  Skye stumbled, catching herself, and resumed making progress. She felt as if she tumbled through the barn door, chased by the brightening light of the rising sun. The golden brightness felt like a sign, as if all of nature wanted to give her a bit of help.

  "I see you have my mare under your control," she said. "And likely she's so charmed by your dashing handsome ways that I have no chance with her now."

  "It wasn't in my plans for the day, but I could work it into my schedule and convince her." The shadow of his face remained inscrutable, but his whisker-rough jaw seemed to smile. "Good morning."

  "It really is. Look at how beautiful it is out there. Were you able to get some sleep at the bunkhouse?"

  "I am settl
ed in just fine. Slept like a rock." He gave Minnie one last pat. "Although the sound of Claude snoring actually drown out that small squall that blew through late and kept me from falling asleep. Then I got up and closed the door, and I was fine. I've got a spacious room, nice and cozy. You have a good set up here."

  "My brother and cousins did a good job, and I'm thankful for that."

  "They look out for you, huh? I imagine it would be different if you had a husband."

  "Everything would be different, trust me. If I did, then this place would be a bustling ranch instead of my hopes and a few horses."

  "That's why I'm here." He knuckled back his hat and studied her with his midnight-black gaze.

  It was as if he could see all the way to her heart. She shivered, unable to describe the zip and zig of attraction that arced from head to toe. There she went, remembering being in his arms again.

  What is wrong with me that I keep thinking about it? She'd really liked the feeling of her cheek against the heated granite of his chest. She wouldn't mind being in his arms again. Not that she approved of that kind of a thing.

  "I wish the bunkhouse was fancier, but since you refused to stay in the house, I hope you got some sleep."

  "I'm feeling stronger, and don't you worry about it. I'm grateful for the bunkhouse, believe me. It's comfortable, I've got my own chair and reading lamp and it's the best place I've been in a long while."

  "Then I'm glad you're there. It got chilly last night. I hope you managed to keep warm. I don't know how many extra blankets are in the linen closet there."

  "I have enough to get by with and I'm tougher than I look. My last big place to stay was a bedroll in the woods."

  "You slept on the ground?" She couldn't imagine it. "Wasn't it hard?"

  "Very hard. Rocky. Uncomfortable. Tough on the back."

  "Wasn't it scary? There could have been a snake or a mountain lion or a mouse."

  "There wasn't, but that's why I sleep with my gun."

  "Doesn't it get cold?"

  "Very."

  "Then I can see why you like my bunkhouse."

  When he grinned and that dimple cut into his cheek, her heart swooped. She felt a little bashful, a little uncertain.