A Cowboy Christmas

by Janette Kenny

  Which meant either Hubert or her pa was guilty. She hoped Reid would tell her his thoughts, and what he intended to do about it. But he scooped up the last of the filling, which told her he was more interested in eating than talking.

  She expelled the breath she’d been holding. Thank God, he’d about consumed all of the pie and this torment of sitting close to him would soon be over.

  “Have the last bite,” he said as he lifted his hand to her mouth.

  He couldn’t mean for her to eat the filling off his fingers, yet they remained poised before her. She licked her lips more from nerves than hunger.

  “Thank you, but go on and enjoy it yourself,” she said, proud she’d kept her voice from quavering.

  But she was helpless to keep her heart from thundering like a stampeded herd. His eyes glowed with a sultry light that set her insides blazing hotter than the overheated stove.

  The inviting curve of his lips as they quirked into a knowing smile had hers parting of their own accord. And mercy, but her thighs ached to do the same.

  “I insist you enjoy the last of it.” Something dark and deliciously wicked flared in his eyes.

  “It isn’t proper,” she said, and this time her voice did tremble to betray her outward calm.

  His dark eyebrows wiggled. “Few pleasurable things are.”

  How well she knew. She gave a half-hearted effort to pull away, denying the longing that danced a hoedown within her. It was a struggle to keep her quivering thighs pressed together, but she managed to retain that much dignity.

  “Go on,” he said, and this time she was sure his intentions were far from honorable as he pressed the morsel to her mouth, brushing the syrup over her lips. “You know you want to.”

  Oh, she wanted that and more. She knew it was wrong, but sitting this close to his powerful body and staring into his eyes that glowed with wicked promises pushed all thoughts of propriety from her mind.

  She took a cautious bite and shivered as her tongue grazed his fingertips. The arousing scent emanating off Reid Barclay overpowered the sweet molasses custard melting on her tongue.

  She couldn’t have formed a coherent thought if her life depended on it.

  He poked what remained into his own mouth and licked his fingers clean, his tongue curling around the exact same spot where her tongue had touched. His eyes closed in exaggerated ecstasy and his moan was a song that serenaded her longing.

  This had to be the most wickedly wonderful thing she’d ever done with a man, for though she’d shared an intimacy with Irwin, it was over and done with so quickly she scarce knew what had happened.

  With Reid Barclay she felt things she didn’t know it was possible to feel. Being with him, touching him, brought her body fully alive, as if she’d been sleeping all this time, waiting for him to come along.

  Reid clearly exuded an animal prowess that beguiled her on a purely primitive level. She knew if she made love with him, she’d remember every second for as long as she lived.

  At that moment, she realized she was stuck on an uncharted island. For all her knowledge of the goings on between a man and woman, she knew pitifully little about seduction.

  But there was no doubt in her mind that Reid Barclay was trying his best to seduce her.

  She focused on their disjointed conversation thus far, desperate to gain control of the situation. What had they been talking about? The pie. Dear God, yes.

  “If you’re really that partial to molasses pie, I’ll bake you another one,” she said. “The next time the crust will be nicely browned and I’ll add a fluff topping to it.”

  “Will you feed it to me, Miss Cade?”

  She opened her mouth, but all that came out was a squeak. That had to be the most indecent thing he’d said yet.

  Before she could rally her wits to tell him just that, his lips settled over hers. She was no stranger to kisses. Irwin had started out with frantic demanding ones, then dwindled to perfunctory pecks.

  She’d never realized there was something else to savor. And she certainly savored this lazy stroking of tongues and glide of lips she was experiencing with Reid Barclay.

  He tasted of rich sugar and brandy and delicious temptation, reminding her again of how very little she knew about men. Why, she’d thought he’d be demanding, taking what he desired without thought to her wants.

  But he seemed in no hurry to do more than kiss and hold her. It was as if he knew what she’d hungered for all her life.

  The gentle glide of his hands up her arms and down her sides, as if she was something rare and precious he was honoring. This unhurried melding of lips left her ravenous for more.

  Their heated breaths mingled and chased off the chill of uncertainty.

  Her spine, which had gone stiff with shock when their lips first touched, instinctively arched to put her closer to the heat radiating off him. He drew her closer, and she hadn’t realized he’d lifted her onto his lap until she felt the corded muscles in his legs bunch beneath her.

  Against her hip, his erection reminded her of other delights they could share, successfully annihilating any resemblance of this necking to what she’d shared with Irwin.

  For once in her life, she blocked out all thoughts of decorum and propriety and let herself enjoy this moment. Just once.

  His mouth left hers to wander down her neck. She tipped her head back, giving him ample access, then realized that path led to danger.

  “Please, we must stop this,” she said, and was torn between relief and disappointment when he heaved a sigh.

  “Your moral fiber is stronger than mine, Miss Cade,” he said and rested his forehead against hers, his breath sawing hard and fast.

  “Then I’m sorry for your fiancée.” She pulled away from him to break the contact that kept her mind muddled.

  “So am I.”

  Well, she couldn’t fault him for his honesty. She did wish he wouldn’t look at her so intently, for she was sure he was judging her unfairly by her actions thus far.

  “I’m not one to take up with a man,” she said in her own defense. “Especially a stranger.”

  “Didn’t reckon you was,” he said.

  “Even if you weren’t affianced, I believe a man and woman need to get to know one another before making any type of a commitment. That of course takes time,” she said, and knew she was on the verge of rambling, but she couldn’t seem to stop it either. “You know nothing about me, and all I know of you is you raise horses, you’re from England, and you have a fondness for pie.”

  “I stole one off a windowsill once when I was a boy,” he said.

  That statement hung between them for the longest time.

  “On a dare?” she asked, certain he’d done such a thing just to prove he could, for surely the privileged boy was given anything he whimpered for.

  He gave a depreciating laugh. “Nope, my backbone was rubbing a hole in my belly.”

  She stared into his eyes that were near black with some emotion she couldn’t name. Something dark and heart wrenching. Something that left scars of longing.

  “Were you running away from home?”

  He shook his head and gave another humorless laugh. “Hardly.”

  He got to his feet, a muscle drumming in his cheek as he extended a hand to help her up. She took it, feeling his withdrawal even as the warmth of his big hand stole up her arm for that brief moment.

  “You’ll hear soon enough,” he said. “I was born and raised in America, not England.”

  “I didn’t realize that.”

  But it explained so much. The lapses from cultured speech to rough cowboy lingo. So many questions filtered through her thoughts.

  Ellie picked up the pie plate and scraped the burnt crust into the pail reserved for scraps, glad to have a few more seconds to gather her thoughts. She sensed there was far more to his story than he’d let on, but she was determined to start off on the right foot with him this time.

  “Where do you hail from, Mr. Barclay?”
she asked.

  Silence answered her. She turned to find him gone.

  Perhaps that was for the best.

  No matter how attracted she was to Reid Barclay, the simple fact remained he was her employer, and an affianced gentleman. Though he’d certainly not let that deter him from making overtures with her just now.

  As Miss Halsey advised in her manual, it was often left up to the lady to establish and maintain proper decorum. That was certainly the case here.

  From here on out she’d do her job to the best of her ability, and when she had spare time, she intended to have a nice long chat with her pa.

  She’d not do anything as reckless as falling into Reid Barclay’s arms again and proving she was a true wanton at heart. No matter how much she longed to do just that.

  Chapter 5

  With her first day behind her, and a wedding scheduled to take place a mere week from now, Ellie certainly had her work cut out for her. Thankfully Reid had been content with a breakfast of eggs, bacon and fried potatoes the next morning. The simple fare allowed her to become better acquainted with the banquet range and feed him a meal that wasn’t scorched or undercooked.

  The second he left the house, she set her kitchen to rights and then fetched the popcorn popper from the pantry. She dumped a cup of shelled corn in the hopper, slid the wire lid closed, and set it over the hottest part of the stovetop.

  As she slid the pan back and forth, Ellie tried to decide on how best to decorate the house. But all she could think about was the way Reid’s mouth had fused to hers. Kissing him in the pantry had been positively stupid. And what had possessed her to eat from his fingers?

  Ellie groaned and shook the corn popper a bit faster. She had enough experience to know where a kiss would lead. Yet she’d curled against him and moaned at each heated stroke and bone-melting kiss. Good heavens, she’d acted as wanton as the ancient Roman courtesans she’d read about. She’d been the loose woman she’d instructed young ladies not to be.

  He was her employer and she the employee. Never the twain shall join in a compromising situation. Yet she’d done just that.

  Well, no more! She was here to spend the holiday with her pa, though that prospect was looking rather dismal at the moment. And she’d given her word that she’d take over Mrs. Leach’s duties in her absence.

  She took a critical look at the kitchen. This house wasn’t new by any stretch. The pine floor was weathered in the hall, and there were old scrapes and dings on the wallpaper.

  Whoever had built it took care, for it was grander than any house she’d seen in the West. But it clearly lacked a woman’s touch. And not just recently.

  She couldn’t see any indication of a woman’s presence anywhere but in the kitchen. And then it was only evident in the floral linens hanging just so, and the single potted plant sitting on the far windowsill.

  No, there hadn’t been a woman living here in years—if ever, she thought as the shelled corn began popping in the hopper.

  Ellie shifted her thoughts to decorating the house for the holiday wedding. She’d have to ask Reid to cut a tree for her. She’d also need a goodly amount of evergreen boughs. Some pine cones would be nice as well.

  When no more corn exploded in the hopper, she carefully slid open the lid and dumped the fluffy, white popped corn into a large bowl. She’d string it and the cranberries later.

  For now she needed to find out what all Mrs. Leach had ordered for the occasion. She was pleased by the array of artificial flowers and chenille pom-poms she’d found stored in the pantry.

  The scuff of a shoe in the hall snared her attention. She looked up into Hubert’s benign face.

  “Is that popping corn I smell?” he asked.

  “It is. I just popped some to make string garlands.”

  “Ah, pity.” He turned to leave.

  “If you want some,” she said on her way into the pantry to fetch the box of decorations, “please, help yourself.”

  Surely one older man wouldn’t eat it all. And even if he did, she had a goodly bag left to use for decorations.

  Besides, if she was honest with herself, she welcomed the company. She returned with the box just as Hubert took a dish from the cupboard and eased onto the bench nearest the popcorn bowl.

  She dug into the items Mrs. Leach had ordered. If she was lucky, there was enough so Ellie could fashion several nice sprays and festoons for the holiday wedding.

  “Do you know how long Mr. Barclay has lived here?” she asked Hubert as she plucked another white chenille dove from the box and placed it with the others on the table.

  “For nearly fourteen years,” he said. “Mr. Morris had the house built then to his specifications shortly after he purchased the land. He and the lads moved in before winter.”

  She continued sorting the decorations in the box as if she wasn’t dying to know how Reid Barclay came to live with a man named Morris. Was he a relative? A friend?

  One thing was clear. Hubert had been here too.

  “Am I correct to guess you worked for Mr. Morris for quite some time?” she asked.

  “Indeed so. I was in his employ for nearly thirty years.” Hubert lifted his chin as if proud he’d worked for one man for so long.

  Reid Barclay was either that age or close to it, she suspected. No doubt Hubert could pinpoint Reid’s age.

  Ellie bit her lip as curiosity goaded her to ask the older gent to tell her more about his time under Morris’s employ. But she was treading a fine line between congenial conversation between employees and out-and-out snooping on her part.

  Annoyance skipped up her limbs. She’d instructed her students many times to exercise patience in all things, but she was having a deuced time applying what she’d preached. In fact, she couldn’t remember when she’d been so bitten by curiosity to the point of shunning good behavior.

  So she opted to voice the truth. “I’m afraid I’m totally confused, for I’ve no idea who Mr. Morris or the lads are, or how any of them are related to Mr. Barclay.”

  Hubert lifted his droll gaze to her. “It is a bit of a jumble to grasp.” Instead of explaining, he crossed to the range and put on the teakettle. “Would you care for a spot of tea?”

  “That would be nice,” she replied, when she really wanted him to tell her more about her enigmatic employer.

  “I will admit there were times during my employ when our roles blurred and Mr. Morris was more friend than employer.”

  “That’s to be expected when you live with a person for that long,” she said, and wondered what excuse she could drum up that would explain why she was in the pantry with Reid yesterday eating molasses pie off his fingers.

  Hubert actually smiled. “Indeed so. I was not at all pleased when he told me he was coming to America for an adventure, but I tagged along just the same.”

  “Do you regret it?”

  “There have been moments when I questioned my decision, as well as those living on this ranch,” he said, his brow creasing as he carefully poured a cup of tea.

  She wanted to press him to explain, but the impatient stride of footfalls in the hall warned her to hold her silence. She reached into the box of decorations just as Reid stepped into the kitchen.

  He glanced from the table strewn with an array of faux flower sprays and fruit clusters to her face. “I smelled popcorn.”

  So much for using it to start a garland. “Help yourself.”

  Reid wasted no time dropping onto the bench beside Hubert and scooping up a handful of popped corn. He ate with relish, and for a moment she almost caught a glimpse of a hungry little boy ravenously devouring a treat.

  She shook her head and went back to sorting the decorations. “I am glad you popped in because I need to ask you about the larger decorations.”

  One dark eyebrow veed over a piercing blue eye. “Go on.”

  “It’s about the tree,” she said.

  “What tree?” he asked.

  She rolled her eyes. “The Christmas tree.
I think it should be a tall one, say six foot at least. I’ll also need a selection of boughs for swags and decorations.”

  He shrugged and fished out another handful of popped corn. “I thought folks put the tree up on Christmas Eve?”

  “Well, yes, traditionally,” she said. “But since you are getting married on Christmas Eve, it should be done before then.”

  “Fine. We’ll set it up the day before.”

  She flattened her palms on the table and leaned a bit toward him to draw his attention away from the popcorn. “That’s still waiting too long.”

  “Just when did you want to put it up?” he asked, rocking back and locking his arms over his chest as if displeased by her input.

  “Today,” she said, earning her a dismissive snort from Reid and a cough from Hubert.

  The old butler recovered his manners first. “That would be seven days before the holiday, Miss Cade.”

  “I can count,” she said. “Setting it up now would put us all in the holiday spirit that much sooner.”

  Reid’s dark gaze skewered her with such icy dismissal that she shivered. “It’s going to take a helluva lot more than a tree dressed up in ribbons, fruit and tin ornaments to put me in the holiday spirit.”

  She pursed her lips and counted to ten, then added another ten before she felt marginally in control. “It’s your wedding, Mr. Barclay. I’m sure your bride would appreciate it if you showed a bit of enthusiasm for the celebration.”

  He shoved to his feet, jaw anvil-hard and shoulders racked tight. “I didn’t pick the woman or the day, so don’t expect me to get heated up over it all.”

  With that, he stormed out of the kitchen and down the hall, his bootheels striking the hardwood floor like gunshots. He marched into his office and slammed the door so hard the windowpanes rattled.

  She blew out an exasperated breath. “Is he always this intractable?”

  “He’s often far worse,” Hubert said and without another word of explanation, took himself off as well.

  Ellie dropped onto the bench and cradled her aching head. She couldn’t imagine anyone forcing Reid Barclay to do anything he didn’t want to do. Certainly not marriage.