SNOWY SEDUCTION
“I want you,” he said, intrigued by the snow that caught on her hair, her thickly curled lashes, her full ripe lips.
She swallowed, and the pulse in her neck warbled. “You can’t. You’re engaged.”
“That doesn’t stop the wanting.”
He leaned close to steal a kiss, pausing long enough for her to pull away from him. But she didn’t move. She just stared at him with those big eyes full of wonder and passion.
His head dipped to hers, and he kissed the snow from her eyes, her nose, before settling over her mouth. Hers trembled slightly, and he felt that hesitation clear to his soul.
A gentleman would have ended it now. He should’ve apologized for his boldness. For taking advantage of the situation.
But Reid was no gentleman.
He was a bastard, and he intended to take all that Ellie Jo Cade was willing to give him. Still, he kept his hands trapped between her thighs amid all that fabric that deprived him of exploring her as he longed to do.
There was something wickedly alluring about just kissing her. It seemed more intimate, like a stolen moment that was as fresh as the new-fallen snow.
She tasted of frosty winters and just a hint of spice. She was the dessert he’d hungered for. He damn sure wasn’t going to content himself with a sampling.
A COWBOY CHRISTMAS
Janette Kenny
ZEBRA BOOKS
Kensington Publishing Corp.
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 1
Maverick, Wyoming 1894
Blinding light rode into the room on an icy gust of wind and rudely reminded Reid Barclay that he couldn’t get rip-roaring drunk today. He shot a scowl at the newcomer who didn’t seem to have the sense to know they were letting out what little heat the potbelly stove could belch out.
Damn, was he going snow blind? He blinked a couple of times just to make sure she wasn’t a mirage. Nope, nothing wrong with his eyesight.
A lady stood silhouetted in the doorway, as if debating whether to come in or skedaddle. The answer was as clear as the big blue sky that stretched to the horizon.
A lady had no business stepping foot in this hole.
He ignored the inclination to stand up straight in her presence, preferring to hunker over his whiskey while she stood in the open doorway like an ice princess, gilded in white light and prim bearing—the exact opposite of what this place represented.
Any second Reid figured she’d realize she was in a bawdy establishment that made its money satisfying men’s baser needs. Or in his case, trying to.
“Is this Mallory’s Roost?” That sultry note in her voice was at odds with her prim appearance, putting lurid thoughts in his head that he had no call thinking about a lady.
“Yep,” he said, in no mood to offer anything more.
She gave a shudder, but instead of hightailing it like any lady with a lick of sense would do, she stepped inside and shoved the door closed. Besides the wind that howled a protest at being shut out, the only sound in the Roost was the crackle of the stove and Reid’s uneven breathing.
This lady oozed quality in a hovel that wouldn’t know sophistication if it bit saloon keep Ian Mallory on his Irish ass. The tips of dainty black boots peeked from under her heavy tweed skirt. Fine-looking black gloves covered small hands that rested demurely at her sides. Her wrap hugged her narrow shoulders and didn’t appear near warm enough for these environs.
He had just enough liquor under his belt to want to heat this lady up under a nice thick blanket. Dangerous thoughts for a man in his position.
He let his gaze drift up to her face, and her inquisitive eyes and lush lips hushed his heart a measure. He couldn’t recall when that had happened to him last. To have a woman intrigue him so now—Hell, it was time for him to vamoose.
He’d heard the train chug in five minutes ago, and knowing he had a passenger waiting had chased off thoughts of getting drunk. Not that drink would solve his problems. But sometimes a man just needed to drown himself and his troubles in a bottle.
That would have to wait. It was time for him to collect Mrs. Leach’s friend and head back to the ranch.
He would’ve too if that slight desperation he sensed in this woman hadn’t stayed him. He couldn’t pull himself away just yet, not until he found out why a young woman of quality would enter a grubby saloon.
He finished off his rotgut, then almost choked on it as the sweet scent of lilacs drifted over him, tempting him to forget the promise he’d made. He didn’t have to look up to know the lady stood at his elbow, but he did anyway.
Dammit to hell but the uncertainty he glimpsed in those big brown eyes of hers had him wanting to reach out to her and tell her whatever was wrong would be all right. He knew better now than to make such promises.
He shot the lady a look that should’ve sent her running, but she hiked that pert little chin up as if telling him she wasn’t one to bluff. If that chin hadn’t trembled the slightest bit—Aw, hell, didn’t she know it was dangerous for a woman to come close to a lone man swilling whiskey—a man who was wallowing in old regret and new longing?
“Was there a gentleman in here earlier?” she asked.
“Not that I recall.”
She frowned and bit her lower lip. “Perhaps he left before you arrived—”
“I been here since yesterday, ma’am,” Reid said and scratched his knuckles over the stubble he’d not bothered scraping off this morning. “Plenty of cowpokes and the like have come and gone, but nary a gentleman has passed through those doors.”
“I see,” she said, her mouth pinched in clear disapproval of his admission, and his appearance, if he guessed right. “Is the owner of this establishment here?”
Reid nodded in Mallory’s direction, his curiosity hiking up another notch. “That’s him propping up the far end of the bar.”
“Thank you.”
Yep, no doubt about it. She was the embodiment of the vision that had tormented Reid’s dreams for as long as he could recall. True elegance with a throaty voice that hinted of naughty. So what the hell was she doing here?
She set off at a good clip toward the end of the bar where Ian Mallory snored like a sawmill. Her boot heels clicked a jig, and her bustle swayed to the lusty beat pulsing in Reid’s veins. Damn, but he’d sure like to see if her inviting backside was mostly padding or firm, natural rounding.
“Excuse me,” she said to Mallory as she stopped a respectable distance from him.
Mallory answered her with a snore.
The lady tapped a foot impatiently on the floor and Reid bit back a smile, wondering what she’d do now. From what he’d seen so far, she wasn’t the type to tuck tail and run.
She cleared her throat. “Sir, if I may have a moment of your time.” She leaned close to Mallory, her voice louder and more commanding this time.
Like a schoolmarm. Or a general.
It took grit for a woman to walk into this place. A damn sight more gumption to stay. Just the type of woman who appealed to Reid.
Seeing his
dream woman in the flesh brought all the old longing rushing back. A good dose of regret, too, though he rarely acknowledged it anymore. But what shocked the hell out of him was the beginning twitch of an honest-to-God arousal.
The past two years lust had been a stranger to Reid. God knew he’d tried to get back in the amorous saddle again as recent as last night, but nothing any woman did worked. Now, just being in the same room with this lady had nudged his cock awake.
About damn time. Now if only he were free—
She turned to Reid then, and indecision flitted over her inquisitive features. “Is he always like this?”
“He has his lucid moments, but they’re rare.”
Her mouth cinched up tighter than a banker’s purse strings, but the gloved finger she slid between her neck and high ruffled collar was more telling than her tongue slipping out to dampen her full lower lip. That long-missed heaviness paid a teasing visit across Reid’s groin again.
Yep, that part of him wasn’t dead after all.
Reid gripped the empty shot glass in his hands, debating about filling it again. Drinking beat wishing to hell that he was holding soft womanly flesh, but he couldn’t leave the old gal waiting at the depot much longer either.
She shook the sot. “Mr. Mallory. Please wake up.”
“Uh, wha—” The old drunk roused from his stupor and stared at the lady, blinking like an owl.
Reid could well imagine what went through the shanty Irishman’s head. Had he died and gone to heaven after all?
“And just how can I help you, miss?” Mallory asked as he straightened to his full five-foot-six height.
“I’m looking for Mr. Reid Barclay,” she said. “The conductor at the depot said I could find him here.”
Reid froze, his hand inches from grabbing the bottle of whiskey. Had he heard her right?
“Now what would a fine lady such as yourself be wanting with the likes of Reid Barclay?” Mallory asked, voicing the same question that swirled in Reid’s head.
She slid Reid a dubious glance, before turning back to Mallory. “That’s personal.”
The whiskey Reid had swilled crashed like angry waves in his gut. He stared at her long and hard, but nothing about her stirred his memory. Why the hell was she looking for him?
“If that don’t beat all.” Mallory thumped a hand on the bar and let out a wheezing laugh.
“Well? Can you tell me where I can find Mr. Barclay?” she asked.
Mallory bobbed his shaggy head and pointed a gnarled finger at Reid. “That’s your fine gentleman right there.”
Reid pressed both palms on the sticky bar, more discomfited than offended by the Irish sot’s mocking tone.
“Oh.” She pressed a gloved hand to her throat and stared at Reid in clear disbelief.
Reid’s mind churned with reasons, beyond the obvious one, why this lady had sought him out. Damn it all, but that one plausible cause wasn’t reassuring in light of his physical reaction to her.
“Cat got your tongue?” Reid asked.
Again, that telling flush stole over her creamy cheeks. “Please forgive me. I was expecting someone more—I mean, someone far older and, and, and—” She waved a hand as if trying to catch words that had escaped her.
“Respectable looking?” he asked.
Her cheeks turned a fiery red this time. “Please don’t take offense, but you don’t look like the gentleman I’d imagined.”
“None taken, ma’am.”
She crossed to Reid, those sharp bootheels tapping out a lively ditty that had his blood pumping for a fare-thee-well. “I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Barclay.”
Reid inclined his chin a mite, his neck crawling with suspicion. “Barclay or Reid will do.”
“Highly improper, but if that’s what you wish.” Her cheeks darkened a smidgen, and for the first time she looked as uneasy as he felt.
“Why are you looking for me?”
“I’m Eleanor Jo Cade,” she said.
She couldn’t be the woman he’d been expecting from Denver—the one his housekeeper had recommended for the job in her absence. “Mrs. Leach’s friend?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Why? What?” Reid scrubbed a hand over his face, annoyed as hell that she had him stammering for words. He sucked in a deep breath and wished he hadn’t as he drew in her sweet lilac scent.
“Why didn’t you wait for me at the depot?” he asked, acting annoyed she’d come looking for him in this weather when he was really perturbed that she was a young, pretty and damned desirable woman.
Of course, the fact she was here in the saloon told him she was the type who took matters into her own hands. And dammit all for thinking that because his body jolted again at the thought of her taking him in hand. Shit!
“It seemed silly to wait when I could just as easily find you and we could be on our way.”
There was more to it than that. The spark of panic in her eyes hinted she had another reason that she wasn’t ready to divulge.
That alone was enough reason for him to send her on her way here and now and save himself a passel of grief. God knew he’d surely suffer misery in Miss Cade’s company, for his thoughts were anything but gentlemanly around her. But he’d have a hellish time finding a suitable woman to replace Mrs. Leach at this late date and in this ungodly weather.
He blew out a disgusted breath at being caught between a rock and a hard place. “Then by all means let us collect your baggage and be on our way.”
Her sigh was a fitting reaction, but the wide eyes glittering with relief, coupled with those soft lips trembling into a smile, went too far. Yep, this little woman roused feelings in him best left dead.
Reid shrugged into his jacket and motioned to the door. “Stay here while I fetch the sleigh from the livery.”
“I don’t mind walking with you. It’ll save time.” She click-clicked across the wood floor like a spirited filly and out the door into the bitter cold.
Reid tossed five bucks on the bar and started after her. He would have preferred to lose ten minutes and regain his equilibrium, but it was obvious Miss Cade would rather tramp through the snow than spend another second in the Roost.
“You’ve got your hands full with that one,” Mallory said.
“She doesn’t appear to be the troublesome sort to me.”
“Unlike yourself, Mr. Reid Barclay. For all that cultured talk you spout on a whim, I know you’ve got the heart and soul of an Irish rebel.”
“What if I do?” Reid paused at the door and stared at the man who’d watched him go from rebellious boy to respectable rancher.
“Her type won’t give you a roll in the hay and then go her way with a smile on her face. Remember that.”
Reid inclined his head. “I’ll bear that in mind.”
“Will you? You always were a cocky bastard. But then you have the blood of nobles flowing in your veins.”
Mallory, the wily old goat, knew the truth Reid held close to the vest. He was an English nobleman’s by-blow, disowned by his father long before Reid’s mother died giving him life.
“I’m still a bastard, Mallory.” If Kirby Morris hadn’t cut a deal when he had, he’d be a dead one by now.
“Aye, you did ’em wrong, boyo. They ain’t coming back.”
His mouth stretched into a grim line. He’d given his brothers just cause to hate him, and damned if he knew how to right the terrible wrong he’d caused so long ago.
Guilt was a bitch to live with.
“Perhaps I’ll have the luck of the Irish after all.”
“More likely you’ll have the devil’s time of it,” Mallory said as he splashed whiskey into a shot glass, “when your past charges into your life with guns blazing.”
A possibility Reid hoped to avoid. He stepped out and let the wind blow the rest of Mallory’s dire predictions back inside.
No matter how much he groused about his fate, he’d made the right choice. Never mind it’d been the only one at the ti
me. If his skin felt a mite tight for him at times, so be it.
He was ready to live up to his end of the bargain now. Or had been until he’d hired a fetching house cook that had him thinking of dishes best served warm in bed.
Reid squinted against a punishing sun, searching for Miss Cade. He spotted her easily down the street, thanks to a royal blue cloak snapping in the wind like a bullfighter’s cape. He hadn’t known her hair was the color of whiskey until now.
The back of it was caught up in an intricate weave of sorts and that touch of red glowed in the sun.
Reid headed toward Miss Cade, his blood running thick and hot with need. He had a fondness for fair-haired women.
She tugged the full hood up and ended his ruminations of taking the pins from her hair and running his hands through it. By damn, but the lady was a sparkling gem amid a blanket of white. She’d be living in his house, a constant temptation for him to take what he wanted and damn the consequences.
He paused to let a buckboard churn by, the bed laden with goods and squealing children huddled down in a bed of straw. He knew the whole family worked their behinds off on their ranch due north of his, yet he’d never seen a happier brood.
Simple pleasures.
He’d never known what it was like to have the love of family until he’d lost it. Now there was no getting it back.
Reid caught a glimpse of Adam Tavish plowing through the muck in the street. He, too, seemed arrested by the sight of Miss Cade.
Though the U.S. Marshal swore he was on the trail of the Kincaid gang, Mallory told him that Tavish had been asking an awful lot of questions about Reid. It wasn’t the first time a lawman had inquired about his past.
The fact remained that Reid had left word everywhere, all but begging his brothers to come back to Wyoming. He’d also baited a trap for the man accused of killing Lisa True, letting it be known that Slim was at the Crown Seven as well. But so far the only one sniffing around was the lawman.
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