Rancher's Wife

by Anne Marie Winston

  Day smiled down at her. “Don’t thank me yet. There’s a price.”

  She dropped her efforts at courtesy and scowled. “What is it? I’m not in the mood for any more of your...games.”

  One of his eyebrows arched in response. “No games, Angel. Just a dance. All I’m asking is one single dance, and then I’ll take you home.”

  Oh, she despised herself. She was so weak. She knew better, knew that tomorrow she’d be hurting and be sorry, but when he stood before her with that hopeful expression on his face, her common sense flew right off and left her with nothing but longing. “I guess so,” she said. “Just one dance.”

  As luck would have it, it was a waltz. He pulled her firmly against him and swept her around the room to the slow, sweet rhythms of the dance, giving her no chance to argue or protest.

  Did she ever feel good! Her soft body brushed against his in all the right places and he had to admit he was partial to spinning in tight circles because of the way it pressed her up against his all-too-eager hips. Had he been waiting for this all evening?

  He’d known she was coming into town with the hands, and that he’d probably have to take her home. But what he hadn’t realized was that she would ruin his concentration.

  He’d come to this damned shindig with a purpose. Nearly every available woman in Deming came to these things. Now that he’d settled on this idea of a temporary marriage, all he needed to do was find a wife. Of course, he was going to have to be very careful about how he finessed this. It was imperative that whoever agreed to his proposal understand that the marriage would be annulled after he got custody of Beth Ann.

  But now that he was here, with Angel in his arms, he realized two things. The first was that marriage to a local woman was out of the question. They’d expect a normal, till-death-do-us-part kind of marriage. And besides, he wasn’t prepared to let the whole community be privy to his problems. If he asked a local woman to marry him temporarily, it would be all over Luna County in hours.

  The second thing he realized was a whole lot less palatable. He was going to have to have Angel. Not necessarily in marriage, but writhing underneath him in bed for a very long time. Days, weeks even. He just couldn’t fight it any longer.

  No other woman had looked suitable to him tonight and he knew it wasn’t simply because they were all from around Deming. No, it was because they weren’t Angel. With her in his head he couldn’t even focus on anyone else’s face, much less consider inviting one of them to live in his house.

  For the first time, he allowed himself to consider asking her to marry him. Only temporarily, of course. Of course. Anything else would be sheer insanity. As it was, he was begging for trouble, involving himself with another actress. But try as he might, he simply couldn’t believe Angel had been tarred with the same brush as Jada. She’d pitched in at the ranch even before Dulcie had left, and since then she’d been as solid as a rock. He literally couldn’t have gotten along without her. That was one plus—she was already becoming familiar with his routine.

  Another was his daughter. Beth Ann knew Angel. She was already well on her way to being attached, and keeping Angel right where she was could only be good for his daughter. He purposely refused to think about how he’d deal with Bethie when Angel eventually left. By then, she should be secure enough that it wouldn’t be such a wrench.

  “I didn’t see you on the dance floor tonight,” he said against her ear. He felt a shiver run through her and he was gratified to realize that she was feeling it, too, these quivers of sexual excitement that had his insides all ajiggle.

  “I didn’t feel like dancing,” she said. “I just wanted to watch all the people.”

  “I’m glad,” he said, turning his head to nuzzle against her ear again. “I would have been jealous.” He’d hoped for a reaction, but when she reared back and stopped dead in the middle of the dance floor, he hastily grabbed her and forced her into the dance pattern again. “What’s the matter with you?” he growled.

  “What’s the matter with me?” Her voice shook and he didn’t think it was with passion. “You kiss me senseless and then walk away—twice. You didn’t invite me to this dance, remember? Not to mention the fact that you ignored me all evening while you were dancing with your little—little conquests, and now you’re here seducing me with words. I don’t get it. Am I a handy backup because nothing better came along?”

  “Hell, no!” His voice came out louder and more impatient than he’d intended, and several other couples cast openly curious glances at them. He swore. “Let’s get out of here. We need to talk.”

  Gripping her hand without giving her a choice, he towed her toward the door.

  As he plowed through the crowd, an imperious voice caught his attention. “David Kincaid! You come over here and pay your respects, young man.”

  Reluctantly he swerved and slowed to pause beside one of the tables lining the room. “Good evening, Miss Ivy. It sure is nice to see you out and about.”

  “It’s nice to see you, too, David. You’re the spittin’ image of your daddy, rest his soul.” The old woman eyeballed Angel with blatant curiosity. “And who’s this pretty little thing?”

  Day suppressed a sigh. Ivy McClintock was the grand dame of Luna County ranching. She was also one of the biggest gossips he knew. Though he guessed it could be worse. At least she was generally kind with her gossiping.

  “Mrs. McClintock, this is Angel...Vandervere. She used to live around here and she’s been staying at the Red Arrow visiting Dulcie. Angel, Mrs. Ivy McClintock.”

  “Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” Angel said.

  “Vandervere? You Emmet’s daughter?” Ivy might be pushing eighty, but her mind was as sharp as the day she’d celebrated her twenty-first.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Shame about that, him dyin’ so young,” Ivy pronounced. Then she peered at Angel. “You sure prettied up. Best I remember, you were a skinny little filly with eyes too big for the rest of your face.”

  “Thank you.” Angel smiled at the old lady. “I think.”

  “Always wondered what happened to you. Just up and left one day. Heard you married some boy up Albuquerque way, and then nothing.”

  Angel’s smile had dimmed to a carefully blank expression. He wondered what she was thinking, if Ivy’s prying had dredged up some sadness—and then Ivy turned her gimlet-eyed speculation on him. “You say she’s visiting Dulcie? Didn’t see her here.”

  “No, ma’am. Dulcie had to go back upstate.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he wanted to grab them back. Now why had he told her that? Soon all of Deming would know that he had a woman living at his ranch. He supposed that kind of thing shouldn’t really blow anybody’s skirt in this day and age, but he knew how small communities could turn a molehill into a mountain. Especially this small community.

  Before Ivy could take her interrogation any further, he tipped his hat, snagging Angel’s hand at the same instant. “It surely was nice to see you, Miss Ivy,” he said. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to get Angel home now. Good evening.”

  They made it to his truck without any more interruptions, but when he offered her his hand to help her in, she ignored him and hoisted herself up, treating him to a view of rounded bottom snugly encased in crisp new jeans. That alone was enough to addle a man’s brain, he decided, walking around to the driver’s side.

  He drove the truck out of town and onto the highway before he tried to talk to her. She huddled in the far corner with her arms crossed, studiously looking out the side window at mile after mile of dark, flat land.

  How to begin? From the way she’d jumped down his throat in the dance hall, he wasn’t sure trying to start a conversation while he was driving was such a good idea. But inside, a deep satisfaction began to expand. She’d been furious with him on the dance floor, no question about it. And it had sounded as if the reason she’d been so mad was because she’d wanted more of his attention than she’d gotten.

  He
liked the idea. He liked it a lot. He recalled his initial plans for a quiet, passionless marriage and an equally quiet annulment. Now that he’d considered marrying Angel, he knew the other would never do. Oh, well. Divorce was as easy as annulment, easier in some places. And marriage to Angel, having her warm body available to him every night, was a lure he could no longer resist.

  The thought froze him in his mental tracks. He hadn’t been able to resist Jada, either. But that had been a whole different story, he told himself firmly. Jada had been useless on the ranch. Angel had already proven she could work. And she didn’t want to deprive him of his daughter, either. In fact, marrying her would ensure that didn’t happen.

  He let her sulk the whole rest of the way home. When he pulled up in front of the ranch house, he started to shut off the engine, then realized that she had opened her door and was already climbing out.

  “Hey, wait a minute.” He grabbed at her and got his fingers through the belt loops of her jeans, then unfastened his seat belt and slid across toward her. “I want to talk to you.”

  “Too bad,” she snapped over her shoulder, straining against his grip. “I don’t have anything else to say to you. Let me go!”

  “Not a chance.” He dragged her back into the truck and her frantic clutch for the door handle neatly slammed the door shut again. The dome light went off at the exact instant he realized that he had a lapful of woman and he chuckled beneath his breath.

  The sound must have infuriated her because she twisted and wriggled twice as frantically. “Damn you, Day Kincaid. I’m not one of your heifers to be wrestled into submission. I don’t want to talk to you.”

  He felt his temper beginning to fray at the edges. This combative female wasn’t the tranquil, soothing woman who quietly accomplished a lion’s share of work in a day’s time. As she continued to struggle, one hand came up and smacked him solidly in the chest.

  That did it. Capturing that hand and her other one, which was about to make contact with his jaw, he gritted, “Okay, you don’t want to talk, we won’t talk.” And he slammed his mouth down on hers.

  Seven

  She was like a twisty little mustang in his arms, writhing and heaving, trying to throw him off. The challenge fired his blood, and as he pinned her against him, he increased the intensity of the kiss, teasing her with his tongue until she quit bucking. Then, in a capitulation as unexpected as it was total, her body softened and she allowed him to pull her closer.

  Immediately he took advantage of the concession, slanting his mouth more fully over hers and slipping his tongue deep inside. She squirmed against him and he released her hands, sliding his palm down her back to curve under her buttock and drape one leg over his thigh in a blatant intimacy that his body recognized and swelled to meet.

  He kept one arm beneath her neck and slid backward, taking her with him across the seat, then slowly he eased her down until she lay almost full-length on the rough fabric bench. Her breasts were an enticement he’d resisted since the night in her room, and he knew he had to touch her. The blouse she wore was a pretty, ruffled thing with full sleeves and a wide, low collar; the promise of warm flesh beneath it made his fingers shake as he fumbled with the slippery buttons. The pace was fast and furious. She began to work open the buttons from the bottom up, baring creamy skin and a wisp of lacy brassiere so skimpy and transparent that he couldn’t believe it had any useful purpose.

  He wanted to comment on it, to tease her about her choice of lingerie, but his body was pulsing, pounding, the blood rushing through his temples, and no words would come. With a low groan, he inserted a finger in the shadowed valley between her breasts and tugged the bra down, trapping her arms in layers of strap and sleeve, baring her torso for his plunder.

  She froze. So did he. In the moonlight that poured through the windshield, he could see that she was perfectly shaped, with high round breasts from which tiny nipples thrust forward in invitation. He held up his hand, palm out, and brushed it lightly back and forth, from one crest to the other.

  She sucked in a sharp gasp, and the slender leg he’d drawn up over his thigh tightened around him. Anticipation twisted a knot tighter and he shifted, trying to relieve the discomfort in his jeans.

  It didn’t help.

  His body knew what it wanted, and he eased his weight against her until his erection was pressed flush against her spread thighs. She whimpered. He groaned, thrusting forward rhythmically. Through the fabric of their clothing, the sensation was a sweet torment. His attention was claimed again by her exposed breasts, her pale flesh gleaming in the dim light. He lowered his head and took one nipple in a strong suckle.

  She reacted as if he’d applied an electric shock. Her body jerked and she screamed. Her hands speared into his hair and forced him even closer. Aware that his own control was nearly gone, he shifted to one side, grappling with the snap of her jeans, oblivious to all but the need that drove him to uncover her deepest secrets and bury himself within her.

  Then a bright light blinded him. It swept past in an instant, leaving him stunned and uncomprehending until the crunch of tires on stone pierced his state of shock. He knew what it was without looking to confirm the fact. The men were returning.

  Damn! Hastily he sat up, dragging the edges of her blouse together and clutching them in one big first. He was too aroused to sit up completely, confined as he was by his damned jeans, and he had to sprawl along the seat. Angel squirmed her way from beneath him, which didn’t do a thing to help him settle down. Shoving his hand away, she quickly buttoned her blouse again while he peered out the window at the approaching truck.

  “Hey, Boss! Ever’thing all right in there?” The voice belonged to Wes.

  “Just fine.” His voice was a warning growl, but apparently it was lost on the hands.

  A chorus of distinctly tipsy laughter floated across on the night air. “If it ain’t,” Joe-Bob called, chortling, “you just holler. We’d be ‘bliged to help out.”

  Day’s temper snapped and he reached for the door handle. “You’re all gonna need help walking tomorrow if you don’t get out of here pronto!”

  They must have heard the grim note of truth ringing in his voice. Before he could make good on his threat, the other truck growled into gear, bouncing on down the driveway toward the bunkhouse.

  At the same moment, he heard Angel’s door open and slam again. He turned, but she was already out of the truck, running for the house. “Wait! I still want to talk to you,” he hollered at her back. But he might as well not have bothered for all the notice she gave him. By the time he’d taken the keys out of the ignition, she was through the front door.

  And unless he wanted to beat down her bedroom door and haul her out, he doubted he’d see her again tonight. For a minute, he almost considered dragging her into his room and into his bed and kissing every inch of that pale, silky body until she begged him for more.

  His still-rigid flesh reacted to the thought and he groaned. It was going to be a hell of a long night.

  * * *

  Angel couldn’t look him in the eye when he came into the kitchen the next morning. Instead, she busied herself preparing breakfast. She wanted to have it on the table before the men came in so she wouldn’t have to see any of them. She still felt embarrassed.

  And ashamed. It seemed Day Kincaid had to do nothing more than throw a few crumbs of his considerable charm her way before, bingo, she fell into his arms like a flower dropping petals. The worst part was that she couldn’t even blame Day. She’d been a more-than-willing participant during the heated moments in the truck last night. Any opposition she’d thrown in his face had disappeared the minute he’d kissed her.

  “Angel?” Day’s voice was slightly impatient, as if he’d spoken her name more than once.

  “Yes?” She concentrated on counting out flatware. Forget that kiss!

  “We never talked last night.”

  She felt her face flame and she didn’t dare look up. “There’s nothing to talk
about.”

  His boots were loud on the kitchen floor as he stepped to her side. She felt his hand slip beneath her chin, then he lifted her face for his inspection. “Yes,” he said, “there is.” At the sound of the door slamming and boots scuffling on the porch, a grimace crossed his face. “But we can’t talk now. Tonight. In my office. As soon as Beth Ann is asleep.”

  She couldn’t read anything in the gaze he leveled at her. But she knew what he was going to say as she watched him leave the room. And she agreed.

  She couldn’t stay here anymore.

  A thrill of icy fear trickled down her spine to mingle with the misery that the thought of leaving had produced. She’d felt so safe...so anonymous here. With her fair coloring unadorned by stage makeup, she’d faded into the background enough so that no one other than Day had made the connection to Angelique Sumner. She’d felt incredibly free for the past week. So free that for hours at a time she’d nearly forgotten her life could be at risk from a madman.

  Now all those fears came rushing back.

  Surely she could disappear. She had enough money to last her several lifetimes if she invested it and wasn’t frivolous. She could even leave the country, start somewhere else with a new name. Leave all her troubles behind.

  Leave Day Kincaid, and his darling daughter, and Dulcie and everyone else who had become such an important part of her life.

  No. She couldn’t do it. But she could, and should leave the Red Arrow while she still had the chance to do so without anyone being the wiser. She’d just go to Albuquerque and take the first plane out. What did it matter where she landed?

  It didn’t, if Day wasn’t there.

  The realization slipped into her conscious mind without fanfare. She’d been attracted to Day since she’d arrived at the ranch. She’d seen him working right along with his men, juggling finances and accounts, helping with housework. She’d seen him competently parenting his daughter and hurting at the thought that he might lose her. He was rough and rugged, tender and gentle, principled and honest to a fault.