by Diana Palmer
“How?”
Allison just shook her head and stared out the window. She was too hurt and upset to even talk.
When they got back to the ranch she went to her room and locked the door. She couldn’t face anyone just yet.
“What’s wrong with her?” Marie asked quietly when she and Winnie were drinking coffee while Dwight slept. “Something’s upset her terribly. I wonder what Dale said to her? Could it just be the reporter who’s got her upset?”
“I don’t know.” Winnie sipped coffee, aware of the front door opening and closing. “Surely, Gene won’t let him come here, will he?”
“I won’t let who come here?” Gene asked abruptly, taking off his work gloves as he paused in the doorway.
“That reporter,” Marie said. “The one who’s looking for Allison.”
He scowled. “What reporter? And why is he looking for our houseguest?”
Winnie hesitated. She exchanged glances with Marie and grimaced. “I guess you’d better hear it all. Allison isn’t going to tell you, but someone needs to. You’d better sit down.”
He sprawled in the armchair next to the sofa and crossed his arms over his chest. “All right,” he said, his green eyes solemn. It would be almost a relief to know it all. He’d had a feeling from the very first that Allison wasn’t what she seemed, although he had one strong premonition that he wasn’t going to like what he found out.
“Allison and her parents were sent to Central America to set up a small clinic in one of the rural provinces,” Winnie began. “It was a war zone, and inevitably, two opposing factions threatened the village.”
“What were they doing in Central America?” Gene interrupted.
Winnie blinked. “Why, they were missionaries.”
Gene’s face went several shades paler and his jaw clenched. “All of them?” he asked in a choked tone. “Allison, too?”
“Yes,” Winnie replied, confirming his worst fears.
He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes blank. Now it all made sense. No wonder she’d been so naïve, so trusting. He closed his eyes. If the guilt had been there before, it was almost unbearable now. A missionary. He’d seduced a missionary! “Finish it,” he said stiffly, opening his eyes to glare at her.
“They were taken prisoner,” Winnie said slowly. “Allison’s parents were shot to death right beside her, and the firing squad had taken aim at her when the opposing force marched in and spared her. She was smuggled out of the country by international peacekeepers. She has information that nobody else has, and that’s why the media’s been after her. She came here to heal, Gene.”
He’d gone rigid during that revelation. When Winnie finished, he got up out of his chair without a word and went out the front door. He didn’t want anyone to see what he felt at the thought of bullets tearing into that gentle, loving woman. He felt something wet in his eyes and kept walking while stark terror ran over his body like fire. Incredible, Dwight had said. No. Not incredible. A miracle. Allison believed in miracles, she’d told him once, and now he knew why. She was alive because of one.
The sound of approaching voices disturbed his thoughts. He wasn’t really listening, it was just some of the hands heading into the bunkhouse for lunch. But then one loud, slurred voice caught his attention.
Rance, he thought angrily, drinking again. He’d warned the man once. Now he was going to have to do something about it. The hands knew he wouldn’t tolerate alcohol during working hours.
Just as he started around the barn toward the bunkhouse, he heard what Rance was saying.
“She wouldn’t give me the time of day,” the man snarled. “Can you imagine that? She didn’t mind rolling around in that line cabin with the boss, but she was too good to let me touch her. Dale hates her guts, and I can see why. Well, it’s all over town about the high and mighty Miss Hathoway and Nelson, and before I’m through...”
His voice trailed off as the object of his venom walked into the bunkhouse with an expression on his face that made the rest of the men scatter.
“Now, boss,” Rance began hesitantly, because he knew the set of the older man’s lean body and the glitter of those green eyes from long experience.
“You son of a...!” The last word was muffled by a huge fist as Gene knocked the cowboy to the floor and dived after him. They demolished chairs in the struggle, but it was no contest. Gene was quicker and more muscular than the young cowboy, and he had the advantage of murderous anger.
He pulled Rance up from the floor and knocked him through the open bunkhouse door and out into the dirt, and was going after him again when one of the older hands stepped in front of him.
“He’s had enough, boss,” the man said gently, keeping his voice low and calm. “You got the point across. No need to tear his arms off. None of us listened to his venom. A blind man would know that Miss Hathoway’s a lady.”
Gene was breathing heavily. He looked from the half-conscious man on the ground to the one who was speaking, his green eyes hot and wild. He took a deep breath to steady himself. “If anyone else asks, Miss Hathoway is my fiancée,” he emphasized the word, looking at each cowboy’s face individually with an expression that was calm and dangerous all at once. “I may deserve that kind of malicious gossip, but she doesn’t. She’s a missionary. A man who is a man doesn’t belittle a woman of her sort!”
The men looked shamefaced. They stood uncomfortably congregated with downcast eyes.
“Rance told some reporter she was here,” one of them said. “We did try to reason with him, Mr. Nelson, but he was half lit and out for blood. Dale Branigan fed him a lot of bull about you and he’s sweet on her; not to mention him drinking like a fish half the time when you didn’t see him.”
“He can be sweet on her from a closer distance from now on,” Gene said, trying to cope with all the new developments at once. He’d been lax on the job a lot. It was just coming home to him how much time he’d spent wallowing in self-pity over his parentage while he let his stepfather’s ranch go to hell. Well, there wouldn’t be any more of that. He stood over Rance, watching the man open a swollen eye to stare up at him with evident fear.
“Get off my land,” Gene said coldly, and without raising his voice. “If I see you again, I’ll break your neck. I’ll send your check along in care of Dale Branigan. But if you’re counting on a little romance with her, you’ll have to get past Ben Hardy. He’s all but engaged to her, in case you didn’t know.”
Rance looked shocked. “Ben...?”
“She played you for a fool, didn’t she?” Gene asked with a mocking smile. “You poor stupid fish, that will be all over town by tomorrow, too. I promise you it will, along with the news of my engagement to Allison and the damage you tried to do to her reputation.”
Rance dragged himself to his feet, considerably more sober now. He wiped blood away from a cut lip and shivered a little with reaction and muscle strain as he reached for his hat and put it back on.
“No need to beat a man half to death over some woman,” Rance said angrily.
“No need to make her out to be a tramp because she won’t let you touch her, either,” Gene said dangerously, his temper kindling again. “You’re finished in Pryor, Rance. I’ll see to it, no matter what it takes.”
Rance straightened. “I’ve had my fill of Wyoming, anyway,” he said shortly. “You can have it.”
He hobbled into the bunkhouse to pack. Gene turned on his heel and walked away, ignoring the murmurs of comment from his men as he stalked toward the house with blood in his eye.
He went straight up the staircase without a word to Marie and Winnie, who’d been standing speechless at the window, watching the byplay.
Dwight was asleep when he peeped in the door, so he went straight along to Allison’s room.
He knocked and waited for her to answer. It only took a minute. She was surprised to see h
im, and he wondered absently if she’d have opened it if she’d known it was him. She looked terrible.
He rubbed his fist against the corner of his mouth, feeling the cut there as he stared down at her furiously. “Why didn’t you tell me what Rance was saying about you?” he demanded without preamble. “Why didn’t you tell me what you’d gone through in Central America, and what you and your parents were doing there?”
She was looking at his bruised, cut face, hardly hearing the words. “You’re hurt,” she said worriedly. “What happened to you?”
“I’ve been out in the backyard beating the hell out of Rance before I fired him,” he said icily. “And I enjoyed it. Does that shock you? I wish I’d hit him twice as damned hard!”
“You know...all of it?” she asked hesitantly.
“All of it,” he assured her. His broad chest rose and fell jerkily. “Oh, God, why didn’t you trust me?” he asked huskily. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth?”
Her eyes fell to his shirt buttons. “I couldn’t. It hurt too much to talk about it, at first. And then I knew you’d take off like a shot if you knew, well, what I did for a living. I lied because I wanted to be alive, just for a little while. I wanted to be someone else, I wanted to be like other women, to be...loved.” She almost choked on the word and her eyes closed. “But I had no right.”
“Do you think I did?” he groaned. He stepped into the room and slammed the door, jerking her hungrily into his arms. He held her against him, rocking her gently, folding her to his heart in a silence that was broken only by the sound of her soft weeping.
“The worst of it is that I was so wrapped up in my own problems that I was blind to your character,” he said bitterly. “I deliberately overlooked all the telltale signs of your innocence because I wanted you so badly. I deserve to be shot!”
“But, I wanted you, too,” she whispered at his ear, feeling his cheek warm and rough against hers as he held her. “It’s not all your fault. You were hurting. I understood.”
“That doesn’t excuse it. And to have that redheaded vermin gossiping about you in town!” he groaned. “I’m sorry.”
“I won’t be here much longer,” she reminded him miserably. “And if that reporter just doesn’t find me...”
His arms tightened. “It won’t matter if he does,” he said curtly. “I’ve just told the men that we’re engaged. I’ll make sure that gets around town. Dale will wind up with egg on her face from her damned gossiping.”
“Engaged?” she gasped. “But I can’t!”
He drew back, scowling. “Why can’t you? You’re a missionary, not a nun. Marriage is permissible.”
“But not like this, Gene,” she said quietly, her hazel eyes sad and regretful. “Not to spare my reputation. It will be all right. I’m a qualified nurse. I can still get a job.”
His eyes searched her face, down to her soft mouth. “Marriage is a job, isn’t it? Dwight and I are switching responsibilities, and we’ll both be happier. That means I’ll be home more. I can spend time with you and the kids.”
She flushed. “There aren’t any kids.”
His lean hands smoothed down her hips and one of them lightly touched her belly. “Yet.”
She shivered and tried to pull away.
But he held her, gently, firmly. “I know. I hurt you, didn’t I? Your first time was a nightmare that you don’t want to repeat, especially with me.”
She nodded slowly, without looking at him.
He bent and suddenly lifted her in his hard arms, his eyes searching her frightened ones as he carried her toward the bed.
“If I can make you want me, in spite of what happened before, will you agree to marry me?” he asked softly.
“But, I don’t...!” she protested.
He covered the frantic words with his mouth, gently this time, using every shred of skill he possessed to coax her set lips into a shy response.
He laid her down on the coverlet and stretched out beside her, his lips teasing hers in a gentle, exquisite kind of exploration. His fingers traced her cheeks, pushing back the wispy strands of long black hair that had escaped from her bun while the seconds lengthened into minutes.
“I like your hair long and loose,” he breathed against her yielding mouth, one lean hand disposing of pins and combs before he arranged her loosened mane of hair around her flushed face.
She looked up at him nervously, her body already taut from the threat of his, her memory all too vivid of the last time.
“There’s a barrier,” he whispered deeply, holding her eyes while he traced a long forefinger around the swollen contours of her mouth. “It’s called a maidenhead. It protects a woman’s chastity. The first time, it has to be disposed of, and that’s why I hurt you. It won’t ever be like that again. Now that I know how innocent you really are, I’ll make a meal of you, Miss Hathoway. When I’ve finished, fear is the last thing you’ll feel when you look at me.”
She colored. “I’m a nurse,” she reminded him, trying to sound worldly. “I do know something about my own anatomy.”
He brushed her open mouth with his. “I was in too much of a hurry to wait for you. I lost my head. I won’t lose it with you again until I’ve satisfied you.”
“Please,” she moaned, “you mustn’t talk to me like this!”
“You’re my woman,” he said, lifting his head to hold her eyes. “We’re lovers, Allison. We’re going to be married. You’ll have to face the implications of that, sooner or later.”
“I won’t marry you!”
“Like hell you won’t marry me,” he said with quiet determination. He searched her eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said as he bent. “But this is the only way, now.”
She didn’t understand what he meant at first. He covered her mouth with his and his hands smoothed down her body while he built the kiss from a slow caress to a blazing, raging statement of intent. She shivered as the heat exploded in her body when his mouth suddenly went down hard over her breast and began to suckle it through the fabric of her dress. She arched and gasped, at the same time that one lean hand found the fastening of her jeans and slipped expertly inside against warm flesh.
“Gene, you can’t!” she whimpered.
But he touched her intimately then, and his mouth became as insistent and rhythmic as the hand invading her privacy with such slow, sweet mastery. She began to shiver. Her eyes closed. She couldn’t fight this sweet tide of pleasure, she couldn’t! She heard her breath shuddering out in little gasps, felt her body lifting, yielding itself to whatever he wanted. His face nuzzled under the fabric of her blouse and nudged her bra aside so that he could find the hard, aching tip of her swelling breast, hot and moist against the silky bare flesh.
“Gene,” she whispered, her voice breaking on his name as he quickened the rhythm and increased the insistence of his mouth on her body. “Gene! Oh, Gene, please—!”
Her voice broke and he gave her what she begged for, feeling her release with pride and indulgent pleasure. He lifted his head and watched her convulse, her face a study in rigid ecstasy, her body completely his. She wept afterward, and he comforted her, kissing away the tears, lightly caressing her trembling body until she was completely still in his arms.
“That’s what it feels like, Allison,” he said softly, holding her shocked eyes. “That’s what it was like for me, that night in the cabin. I wanted you to know, because next time, I’ll give you this same pleasure with my body. Only it will be an agony of a climax, I promise you. This will be nothing by comparison.”
She blushed as she met his eyes. “Why?”
He kissed her nose. “I told you. I want you to marry me.”
“You don’t have to go that far to spare my reputation, or salve your own guilt. I told you, I don’t blame you... Gene!” she gasped sharply.
His body had levered over hers in midsentence and he�
��d coaxed his way between her long legs, so that she felt him in blatant intimacy, became shockingly aware of the power and need of his body.
He moved deliberately, balancing himself above her on his forearms, smiling down at her with the slow, deliberate shifting of his lean hips.
“Say, yes, I’ll marry you, Gene,” he instructed very slowly, “or I’ll peel you out of those jeans right now and make you scream like a banshee under me. If you think your reputation’s in shreds already, wait until that unholy crew in the bunkhouse hears the noises I drag out of you now.”
She shivered, because she was vulnerable and he knew it. Worse, the window was open, she glanced at it and saw the curtains moving.
“Better say it quick, cupcake, before I get too involved to roll away,” he said huskily and pressed his lips down hard over hers. “It’s getting worse.”
Yes, it was, and her face registered her knowledge of it. She swallowed, sensations in her lower belly making her hot and weak all at once. Her legs trembled under his. “You can’t do that...to me,” she protested. “Marie and Winnie—”
“Are downstairs,” he said, “and the door is closed. Neither of them is likely to walk in without an invitation since they know I’m up here with you,” he said in a deep, husky tone. “Open your legs, Allison,” he whispered, his mouth poising over hers to brush at it with soft, sensual intent. His own long, powerful legs began to edge out and she felt him against her in a hot daze. She gasped softly and looked up into his glittering green eyes, feeling a kindred recklessness. With a faint moan, she let him shift her legs, let him fit his lean body intimately to hers while he watched her face with unblinking intensity. His jaw tautened and she felt his body swell even more in the stark closeness. She shivered.
His hand went between them and ripped open his shirt and pushed hers up, easily unclipping her bra and moving it out of the way. He looked down as he brushed his hair-roughened chest blatantly over the hard tips of her breasts and watched her shiver with reaction. His hips began to move upward over hers, throbbing with building passion as his eyes bit into hers.