“Stewart…” She tugged at the sheet. “Please, I need you…”
He exhaled raggedly. Shifting in the bed, he kissed her again, gently this time. “Lie still, Arabella,” he whispered.
His hand found its way beneath her thin cotton shift to cradle her breast. She moaned as he caressed her, his skillful touch triggering ripples of pleasure. “More,” she murmured as his hand paused to rest on the flat of her belly, then moved downward to cup the wet nest of curls that framed her secret place. Her hips strained upward. She whimpered with need.
His fingertips opened her gently, parting her labia like rose petals, taking time to stroke each one. She gasped as he found the sensitive bud in the center. Brushing a kiss across her mouth, he moved his hand and began a delicate, featherlike caressing.
“Oh…” Arabella murmured. “Oh…!” The feeling was so exquisite she almost wept. Her legs parted. Her hips thrust upward, seeking more pleasure. He could have taken her easily, but that, she realized, wasn’t his intent. He was holding himself back, doing this for her.
The pulsing deepened. She could feel the hot, liquid contractions in her womb, swelling like drumbeats. Almost sobbing now, she gasped his name. Something clenched like a fist inside her. With a little cry she tumbled over the edge.
Gently his hand withdrew. He leaned over her where she sprawled on the sheet, utterly drained. A ghost of a smile flickered at the corner of his mouth.
Her hand brushed the scar on his cheek. “I didn’t know anything could be like this…” she whispered.
He skimmed a kiss across her mouth. “Go to sleep, Arabella. I don’t think the thunder will wake you now.”
She sighed and closed her eyes, already drifting. Outside, the storm’s fury was moving east, leaving a soft rain in its wake.
* * *
Dawn came early on the Montana prairie. But even before the first dim rays silvered the clouds, Stewart was awake. He’d lain sleepless most of the night, feeling Arabella’s warmth beside him and listening to the sweet murmur of her breath. He could be happy waking up like this every morning of his life. But he knew better than to think it was going to happen.
Rising on one elbow, he watched the soft light steal across her sleeping face. He loved Arabella. That was the plain, simple truth of it. He’d loved her since that wild night when he’d picked her up in the rain and delivered her soaked and shivering to Charlie Middleton’s gate. He loved her beauty, her stubbornness, her courage. And he loved the vulnerability she’d shown in his arms last night. Her complete trust had touched him more than anything he’d ever known.
But even last night couldn’t change the fact that she didn’t belong here. Arabella Spencer was a city woman. She might think she could be happy on the prairie, but she’d soon come to miss Boston—the parties and dances, the fashionable shops, the company of friends, all the things Montana couldn’t offer her.
Then there was the threat to his sister’s marriage. For Sally, the presence of her husband’s ex-fiancée would be an open invitation to heartbreak. He knew now that Arabella would never take Charlie back, but as long as Charlie continued to long for her, he could never make Sally truly happy. For that reason alone, Arabella couldn’t be allowed to stay.
So he couldn’t allow himself to want her—especially not as his wife.
* * *
Arabella stirred and stretched in the morning sunlight. Even with her eyes closed, she could tell it was going to be a beautiful day—especially if she could spend it with Stewart.
There was no reason she had to leave just yet. After she dressed and freshened up, she could offer to make him breakfast. Then, if he had time, she could ask him to show her around his ranch. But right now, all she wanted to do was move close and snuggle against his side.
Shifting in the bed she reached out to embrace him. Her hand groped in confusion, finding nothing where he’d been but the cool, empty sheet. Stewart was gone.
Startled wide-awake, she sat up. Only then did she see the folded sheet of paper tucked under his pillow. Her hands shook as she unfolded it and read the note, written in an architect’s precise script.
Dear Arabella,
By the time you read this I’ll be on my way to help the men with the spring roundup and branding. There’s coffee on the stove and a tray of fresh biscuits in the warmer. I’ve left instructions for Miguel to hitch up the buggy and drive you back to the Middleton Ranch. If I don’t see you before you leave for Boston, have a safe and pleasant journey. I hope you’ll think of me now and again, as I will surely think of you.
Stewart
Arabella’s throat jerked. She reread the note, battling the urge to crumple it and stomp it into the floor. Temper tantrums were for spoiled babies, and she was a grown woman. It was time she started behaving like one.
Her hand wiped away a furious tear. After spending the night in his bed, this was the last thing she’d expected. She’d thought Stewart liked her, maybe even loved her. She’d drifted off to sleep with happy dreams dancing in her head—living here on the ranch with him, sharing his everyday life, waiting on the porch to welcome him at the end of each day…
What a silly, romantic little fool she was!
She’d given him a piece of her heart, and the wretched man had taken it and run off like a sneaking coyote.
Arabella wasn’t accustomed to being cast aside by men. And now it had happened twice in the same week. Pride dictated that she toss her curls, pack her trunk and go back to Boston, where a bevy of rich, handsome, eligible men would be vying to court her. She could pick from the best.
But she would never find another man like Stewart
McIntyre.
Chapter Five
“You have such beautiful hair, Sally.” Arabella plied the brush, letting the silky gold strands slide through the bristles. “Just wait till I’m finished with you. You’re going to look like a princess.”
Sally’s laugh was musical. “I’m hardly a princess, Arabella. Pigtails will do me fine for the ranch.”
“But you’re the wife of a gentleman rancher now. There’ll be times when you want to look like a lady.”
Again, Sally laughed. “All right, have your fun. But remember our bargain. Today you get to do my hair. Tomorrow I get to take you fishing.”
“I’ll probably drown.” Arabella curled a sun-kissed lock around her finger. In the three days since her return to the Middleton Ranch, she’d discovered how easy it was to like Stewart’s sister. She was a softer, gentler version of her brother. Sally was bright, warm, practical and very much her own person. Despite the strained circumstances, she was exactly the wife Charles needed—a steadfast rock to balance his somewhat flighty nature.
The real challenge was getting Charles to see that. So far Arabella had managed to avoid being alone with her ex-fiancé. But his manner toward her hadn’t changed. Sooner or later the confrontation would come. She would have to be ready.
“I’m still curious about what happened at Stewart’s place,” Sally said. “You’ve been mighty tight-lipped about it.”
Arabella shrugged. “Well, there isn’t that much to tell.”
Except that I fell in love with him.
“Stewart’s always been shy with the ladies,” Sally continued, chatting on. “The more he likes a woman, the faster he runs away. I expect that’s why he’s never married. He’d make a wonderful husband and father. But that’s not likely to happen—not unless some girl has the gumption to toss away her pride and go after him with all flags flying.”
With all flags flying…
The hairbrush slipped out of Arabella’s hands and clattered to the floor. The color rushed to her face as she bent to pick it up. It was clear that Sally had spoken for her benefit. But she’d never pursued a man in her life. In Boston society, that sort of thing just wasn’t
done.
Did she love Stewart enough to throw away her pride? But why ask that question? His note had made it clear that he didn’t plan to see her again. How could she pursue a man when he was someplace else? It wasn’t as if she could ride out and track him down on the prairie.
Twisting Sally’s hair into a shining coil, Arabella began pinning it into place. The motions were so familiar and automatic that they proved no obstacle to her wandering thoughts. Her time here was running out. Before long the roads would be patched, the bridges would be rebuilt and the stage would resume its scheduled run.
Would she be on it?
She blinked away a furtive tear. Once she’d been anxious to leave this wide-open country. But that was before she’d lost her heart. What she needed now, more than anything, was a reason to stay.
* * *
Stewart pushed back his hat and used his bandanna to wipe his sweating face. He’d spent the past four days roping and branding—and the past four nights dreaming about Arabella.
Those dreams—hellfire, they were enough to drive a man crazy. Arabella in his bed, her voluptuous little body meeting his thrusts as he filled her with his seed. Arabella at his side, holding his babies, railing at him and teasing him and filling his life with love and passion as their family grew.
He’d hoped that being on the range would help him forget her. But it hadn’t worked. She’d been on his mind the whole time. More than he’d ever wanted anything in his life, he wanted that little green-eyed spitfire for his own.
So what was he doing out here with the cattle when the woman he loved could already be on her way back to Buffalo Bend? He’d never considered himself a stupid man. But he’d be an idiot if he let her get away without even trying to convince her to stay.
Win or lose, it was time he laid his cards on the table. Proposing to Arabella could be the biggest mistake he’d ever made. She could spit in his eye and tell him to go to hell. After the note he’d left her to find following her night in his bed, he wouldn’t blame her. Worse, she could say yes and then later discover she couldn’t really be happy with him after all. But unless he asked her, he’d never know what he might have missed.
It was a chance he had to take.
After leaving a few instructions with his men, he turned his horse toward the Middleton Ranch and nudged the animal to a trot. Roused from a doze under the chuck wagon, the dog shook its muddy coat and raced after him.
* * *
The fishing lesson had been a grand success. Sally had driven the buckboard to a small creek overhung by willows. There she’d shown Arabella how to string a line, attach the fly and cast it into a quiet hole. She had a collection of beautiful flies, hooked into the fleece of a sheepskin folder. Fashioned of tiny feathers, wound with silk thread on to a barbed hook, they were as exquisitely detailed as real insects. Some were nearly as small. Stewart had made them over the winter months, Sally explained. Each one was a painstaking work of art.
Casting the line had taken some practice. At first, Arabella’s fly had snagged the willows more often than it landed in the water. But once she got the knack of it, she’d taken to the sport like a natural. Between the two of them, she and Sally had brought home a nice stringer of trout.
The morning’s activities had worn Sally out. After lunch she’d gone upstairs to rest. Twenty minutes later, when Arabella had looked in on her, she’d found Charles’s wife asleep on the bed with one arm curled protectively over her rounded belly. Arabella had covered her friend with a quilted throw, stolen back downstairs and walked outside, onto the front porch.
The builder of Charles’s house had chosen the spot for its sweeping view of the countryside. From where she stood, Arabella could see all the way to the mountains, where black clouds were boiling over the horizon. Her ears caught the faraway whisper of thunder. Another storm, and it was moving fast. Soon it would be overhead.
Would Stewart be safe on the open range? She couldn’t help worrying. But Stewart had spent years on the Montana prairie. To him, a spring thunderstorm would be nothing to fear. The only thing Stewart seemed to fear was her.
With all flags flying… Sally’s words came back to her as she watched the clouds spread across the sky. Was that what it would take to win the man—an all-out, shameless pursuit? Was she up to the challenge?
A cool breeze struck her face, smelling of rain. As the distant thunder grew closer, Arabella turned and went back inside the house. Charles had stocked his study shelves with books. She could always pass the afternoon reading. Maybe that would take her mind off the storm.
The study was off the entry hall, across from the parlor. The door stood ajar. Arabella was about to cross the threshold when she glimpsed Charles at his desk, his head bent over his account books.
He hadn’t seen her. It would be easy enough to sneak up to her room and avoid him, as she’d been doing all week. But sooner or later, the reckoning would have to come. With Sally asleep upstairs, now was as good a time as any for what she had to tell him.
Steeling her resolve, she opened the door. “May I come in, Charles?” she asked.
For an instant he looked startled. Then he rose. “Of course. Sit down, Arabella. Can I get you something to drink?”
“No, thank you. And I believe I’ll stand. What I came to say won’t take long.”
“That’s too bad. I was hoping you and I would get more time together.” He walked around the desk and took her hand. “I have some news. Not welcome news for me, I’m afraid. One of my men rode a horse into town yesterday. He brought back word that the bridge is up again, and the road’s been repaired. The next southbound stage will be coming through Buffalo Bend in three days.”
Three days. Arabella felt her heart drop.
Charles’s sky-blue eyes widened. “What’s this? I thought you’d be happy. Does that downcast look mean you’ll be sorry to leave me?”
She shook her head. “Charles, I—”
His hand tightened its grip on her fingers. “I knew it! You do still care for me, don’t you?”
She tore her hand away. “Of course I still care for you! We’ve been best friends since we were children! That’s why I can’t let you go on making a fool of yourself!”
His expression froze. “A fool? Whatever do you mean?”
“Grow up, Charles!” She hurled the words at him. “You’re married to a wonderful woman, and she’s about to make you a father. Be a man, for heaven’s sake! Give her the loyalty and consideration she deserves!”
He sighed, looking sheepish. “I do love Sally, you know. She’s ten times better than I deserve. But, Arabella, I love you, too. I’ll always love you.”
“Well, I don’t love you!” She watched his face go pale. “If you must know, I’m in love with somebody else.”
He stared at her as if she’d told him night was day and the moon was made of butter—as if it had never occurred to him that her feelings could change.
“I’m in love with Stewart,” she said.
“With Stewart? That big, overgrown—?” He shook his head in disbelief. “And does Stewart feel the same about you?”
“I don’t know. I only know that if he asked me I’d marry him this minute.”
As Arabella spoke the words she knew they were true. She loved Stewart to the depths of her soul, and she couldn’t leave without giving herself another chance with him.
“That’s why I’m telling you now, Charles. I don’t know what’s going to happen with Stewart, but if I stay, things will have to be different between us. We could end up being neighbors. Your wife could end up being my sister-in-law. But no matter what happens with Stewart, you have to understand that there will never be anything but friendship between you and me ever again. Do you understand?”
His eyes had taken on that lost puppy look. Once it would have melted her hea
rt. Now it made her want to grind her teeth. “But we still can be friends, can’t we?” he asked.
“Of course we can. But nothing more. You’ll be giving all your love to your beautiful wife and your child.” She thrust a finger at his chest. “For heaven’s sake, Charles, don’t you know what a lucky man you are to have a woman like Sally? Breaking her heart would be the worst thing you could ever do.”
He sighed again. “You were always the wise one, Arabella. You’re right. I am lucky. And I’d be crazy to risk losing my wife and child through my own foolishness. All I can do is wish you well. You deserve the best life has to offer.”
“Thank you. So do you.”
“Friends?” He held out his arms for a hug.
“Friends.” She stepped into his embrace. They’d been companions most of their lives; but looking back over the years, it seemed they’d been more like brother and sister than sweethearts. It was time for both of them to move on.
“Be happy, Charles.” Arabella was stretching upward to plant a sisterly kiss on his cheek when she heard a footstep and the subtle squeak of a door hinge.
Startled, she turned to see Stewart standing in the open doorway, unshaven and dusty from the range. His face was rigid with shock.
* * *
He couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Without a word, Stewart stepped back into the entry and strode outside, letting the front door slam behind him.
He’d always been a man of action, a man who’d charge fearlessly—even recklessly—into any situation, no matter the odds. But now, all he could do was run.
Lord, how could he act sensibly when he couldn’t even think straight? He had to get away from here before he did something crazy. Vaulting into the saddle, he kicked the horse to a gallop and headed for the gate.
“Stewart!” Arabella had rushed out onto the porch. “Stewart! Stop! This isn’t what you think!”
Weddings Under a Western Sky: The Hand-Me-Down BrideThe Bride Wore BritchesSomething Borrowed, Something True Page 7