Her eyes were shining. She was all aglow with some inner radiance that was for him. An answering light came on inside Randall. Had any man ever been looked at like that before?
It took all the strength he had left to get off Nailer without collapsing. The ground swayed again as his feet touched it, but North was there to steady him. He would have taken charge of Nailer, but Randall tossed the reins to Dave.
“Put him away for me, old thing,” he requested languidly, and walked away toward the house. He would have liked to adopt a nonchalant saunter, but his lower half was completely numb and it was as much as he could do to stay upright.
He heard the sound of footsteps behind him, and then Claire was at his side. Without a word she drew his arm about her shoulders, and felt him lean hard on her.
“I never thought you’d do it,” she said, exhilarated.
As soon as the door closed behind them he staged a mock collapse. Laughing, she put both arms about him and helped him to a chair.
“I’ll get something for your head,” she said.
“Uh-uh!” He was too wrapped up in the feel of her arms around his body to concentrate on her words. He felt light-headed.
She helped him off with his shirt and undershirt, exclaimed over his discolored body, and fetched a bowl of water. Randall became aware that blood was trickling down his face.
“That was a nasty fall you took,” she murmured as she sponged him. “You’d better see the doctor, fast.”
“No way. I shall eat my breakfast and then come out to work.”
“You’ll do no such thing. Do you realize nobody has ever ridden Nailer first time before? Even Gabe had to give up the first time. ’Course, he was younger then,” she added quickly.
“Of course,” Randall said, entranced by her nearness and her fresh, flowery smell.
“There’s a good doctor in town,” she went on. “I’ll drive you in.”
“Claire, I can’t do that,” he said seriously. “I’ve got to carry on as normal, just like the others would. Surely you can see why?”
“But you might have cracked a rib,” she pleaded. “Or worse.”
“I don’t think so.” He felt his rib cage carefully. “Seems OK to me. See what you think.”
She set the sponge down and began to feel him gently. She’d treated enough broken bones on the ranch to know at once that he was right. But her hands didn’t know how to let him go. They lingered on the thickness of his torso, taking far longer than they needed to.
There was a light dusting of hair over his chest-she’d wondered about that. His muscles were as firm as any cowhand’s, and his skin was warm.
He was still heaving from his exertions, and Claire felt the movement of his rib cage against her fingers. She wanted to go on exploring, and the desire shocked her.
“You-don’t seem to have any damage,” she said at last.
“Not to my ribs,” he said.
He spoke so quietly that she wasn’t sure she’d heard right. She looked up quickly to find him regarding her with a look that made her suddenly aware how strongly her heart was beating.
Reluctantly, she let him go. She was full of confusion and nothing made sense anymore. She dabbed at his head again, but distractedly, and there was a distant look in her eyes.
“No blue blood,” Randall joked. “It’s the same color as yours.”
She gave a brief smile. “I was a pain, wasn’t I?”
“Just a little prejudiced at first. I guess I understand that.”
“No you don’t,” she said quickly. “It was just-well, never mind. I’m not used to strangers.”
“How long can a man be a stranger?” he asked.
“Guess you haven’t been a stranger for a while now,” she said quietly.
How soft her mouth was, he thought, when she dropped her guard. How badly he wanted to kiss it! In another moment he would throw caution to the wind, lean forward, and it would happen. He drew a sharp breath. His pulses were racing. It was a long time since the mere prospect of a woman’s kiss had filled him with such anticipation. In fact, he couldn’t remember when he’d last had to tread so carefully. The girls at home were only too eager to attract Lord Randall’s interest.
“Claire-”
She turned on him a defenseless smile that destroyed his resolve. She was too easily hurt. Everything mattered so much to her. He couldn’t kiss her, knowing he would go away in a few weeks.
“Yes?” she asked.
“Nothing,” he said reluctantly. “Can you give me a hand up the stairs?”
“You want me to rub some liniment in your bruises?”
“Most of them are in a place I’d better see to myself,” he said wryly, and felt his heart lurch at the sound of her chuckle.
That night they had a celebration. Frank arrived with his wife and grown daughter. Susan outdid herself with the cooking, the hands cheered Randall-at least, North and Olly did-and Claire produced some of Gabe’s best wine.
During the day Randall had come to a decision about Claire. His growing attraction to her was threatening to get out of control, and he had to fight it. Not for his own sake, for hers. Only recently he might have regarded her armored heart as a challenge, but he’d seen how easily she could be hurt and it had altered him. Nothing in the world looked quite the same anymore. Time to call a halt, before it was too late.
There was nobody to warn him that when a man started saying things like that, it was already too late. But when he saw Claire come down actually wearing a dress, he knew his good resolution was going to be harder than he’d reckoned.
It was a simple, old-fashioned dress, made of flowered cotton, with a fitted waist and a slightly flared skirt. Randall’s fashionable lady friends would have screamed with laughter.
But he didn’t feel like laughing. He was too busy catching his breath at the sight of the sexiest woman he’d ever seen. He’d already known that Claire had long legs. Now he discovered that she had slender ankles and shapely calves, and when she moved her hips the dress fluttered this way and that, whispering promises.
She’d brushed her glorious red hair until it shone, and caught it back lightly in a loose, twisted braid. She was like a pre-Raphaelite goddess, risen from the earth, smelling of spice and honey, arms outstretched to the sun.
Randall caught himself up on the thought. He’d never been a fanciful man, and this was a helluva time to start.
With two extra women the evening turned into an impromptu dance. Someone put a tape on, and Randall danced with Frank’s wife and daughter. And after that, of course, it was his plain duty to dance with Claire. She was his hostess and it would have been rude not to.
He tried to be strong. Remembering his resolve, he waited until the music turned lively, and everyone “danced” by bouncing around, doing whatever they liked. He held her hand while she twirled, and felt her brush against him, and each time it was like an electric shock.
But suddenly the music changed to a sweet waltz, and then no power on earth could have stopped him taking her in his arms. When he felt the softness of her slim form against his, he knew he’d been waiting for this moment forever, and no amount of good resolutions would be any use.
Despite her boyish ways she was as light and feminine as a fairy in his arms, moving softly and with an instinctive grace that enticed him to fit his movements to hers.
Wasn’t dancing supposed to be a substitute for making love? If so, it was a very poor substitute. He was achingly aware of her body beneath the clothes that he would have liked to strip away. Were her breasts really as heavy and beautiful as he recalled from that one glimpse? And would he ever discover the truth?
He knew he was holding her too close, or was it that she was pressing herself against him? Looking into her eyes, he found them fixed on him, hazy with wonder. He smiled, and when she smiled back it felt as though she was kissing him, opening the sweet, womanly mouth that tantalized him and…
The music stopped. Claire sighed, l
ooking as if she’d just come out of a trance. Randall released her before they could attract attention, but when she slipped away to the kitchen he followed her. She was stacking dishes, moving as though only half aware what she was doing. He drew her firmly away from the sink and into his arms. His mouth found hers and locked onto it as though his life depended on it.
For a moment he felt her hesitate, as though her mind was resisting what her flesh wanted. Then she relaxed against him.
She was as sweet as honey, and as heady as wine. He might never have kissed a woman before, so different was this one. If only the others in there would go to perdition and leave him alone with her, to do what he’d been wanting to do since the first moment.
His tongue found the inside of her mouth, felt her accept him eagerly. Her body was pressed against him and he was intensely aware of her shape. But it wasn’t enough. He wanted more, all of her, everywhere his hands could reach.
It was exactly ten hours, thirty-five minutes and twenty seconds since Randall had vowed never to do this. Now it might have been another life.
A shout from the big room warned him that someone was about to come in.
“Damn,” he said unsteadily. “Claire…”
“Hush, let me go,” she pleaded.
“Later-”
She didn’t have a chance to answer. Suddenly the kitchen was full of people.
Surrounding Claire, bearing her away, leaving Randall wondering how much more of this he could stand.
Five
When the party was over and she was alone, Claire put on a heavy coat and slipped out of the kitchen into the snow, hoping the freezing air would calm her down.
Nothing made any sense. The conviction that had sustained her for years-that no man in the world could mean more to her than Gabe-was tottering. It was as though some mighty power had taken her life by the scruff of the neck and shaken it, and her, until everything was a new shape.
She wasn’t sure about the new shape. Nothing about it was familiar. But oh, it was sweet, with a poignant sweetness she hadn’t experienced since the year she discovered she was in love with Gabe, and known it was only a matter of time before he loved her back.
Only he never had. And now she knew he never would.
She’d tried to believe that Gabe’s brotherly affection was inching toward the kind of love she wanted from him. When he’d tired of the others he would come home to her. That was what she’d told herself.
But her first experience of true passion in Randall’s arms had blown that illusion away, leaving her stranded in a vacuum, not knowing what lay behind or before her. Not knowing what she wanted. But Randall had whispered, “Later…” and she had replied, “Yes.”
If they’d been alone in the house she knew what would have happened next. It was as inevitable as night following day, but only because they both wanted it.
Now it really was night. Randall had gone up to his room, and he would be waiting for the sound of her foot on the stairs.
“Thinks he’s pretty clever, doesn’t he?”
She jumped. Dave was standing there, evidently having just come out from the bunkhouse. He moved nearer to her and she could see, as well as hear, his bitterness.
“The great English lord?” he sneered. “Passing the time with the local wenches. That’s what they call it over there, ain’t it?”
“Shut up, Dave!” she said firmly. “You know nothing about him.”
“Aw, c’mon. We all had him sized up from the start.”
“You had him sized up as a wimp,” she reminded him. “But he rode Nailer the first time. Took you three goes.”
“Any fool can ride a horse.”
“But Randall’s no fool,” she said quietly.
“Right!” Dave seized on this. “He’s got that lordly estate to keep up, and he’s got to marry a girl with blue blood. What color’s yours, Claire?”
She turned bitter, burning eyes on him, and Dave took a hasty step back in the snow. Who would have thought Claire could look like that over any man?
“I’m just talking as your friend,” he said, trying to regain lost ground. “I’d hate to see you hurt. ’Sides, I thought it was ol’ Gabe you were sweet on-”
“Stop it!” Claire said, speaking so fiercely that Randall, standing at his window just above, heard her and pushed the window open. Looking out into the chill night he heard her say, “Don’t ever dare speak to me about Gabe.”
“Hell, you know how I feel about you, Claire-thought maybe it could be my turn. I’ve waited long enough.”
At the window above, Randall tensed at the sounds of a scuffle, as though Dave’s lust had overcome his manners. Looking down he could just make out the two figures struggling outside the kitchen door, and hear Claire mutter, “Get off me!”
The next moment Randall was out of his room and tearing down the stairs, racing to the rescue of his lady.
But he made it only as far as the kitchen. Even from outside he could hear the sound of a sharp slap, and Dave’s yelp of pain and surprise. Then Dave staggered into the kitchen. Randall had a brief glimpse of him clutching his face, before he backed away into the main room, hoping Dave hadn’t seen him in the darkness.
Standing there, unknown to either of them, he grinned at his own folly in thinking of Claire as a damsel in distress who needed his help. What a right hook she must have! What a girl!
Claire’s voice grew clearer, as though she’d followed Dave inside. “You get out of here right now,” she raged. “And don’t ever come smarming around me again.”
“Hell, I’m sorry,” Dave mumbled. “I just thought-”
“No, you didn’t,” she said crossly. “You don’t know how. All you can do is jump to conclusions. Get this straight. I’m in no danger from Randall. Maybe he is just passing the time, and maybe so am I. Lord knows, he looks enough like Gabe!”
“You mean-”
“Yes, I do. It’s always been Gabe for me, and it always will be. I’m telling you that to get rid of your stupid ideas, and if you repeat it to a living soul I’ll box your ears so hard your head won’t stop ringing for a week. Now get out.”
When Dave had scuttled away to the bunkhouse Claire shut the outer kitchen door firmly behind him. She was shaking, and on the verge of tears, but she refused to cry.
Dave’s words about Randall had struck home so painfully that she’d said the first thing she thought of to put him off the scent, not knowing whether it was true or not.
She’d always loved Gabe. But it was the memory of Randall’s lips on hers that made the fierce heat start up inside her. Gabe had never kissed her, never looked at her with the ardor she’d seen in Randall’s eyes. Perhaps if he had…
Oh, she couldn’t think of Gabe right now. He seemed so far away, not just in distance, but as though he was no more than a vaguely remembered dream. It was Randall who mattered, Randall who was here now, whose kisses sent her mindless with need, and who was waiting for her upstairs now…
As she stood in the darkness, trembling with the force of her emotions, she thought she heard a sound from the next room, but when she went in and switched on the light, there was nobody there.
Because he was no saint, but a very human man, Randall’s reaction to the news that Claire’s heart still belonged to Gabe contained as much pique and annoyance as pain.
She’d been teasing him. And after his good resolutions about her! Not that they had amounted to much. But for what he’d overheard he knew he would have taken Claire to his bed and made love to her until they were both exhausted. The thought of it made him ache still.
The next day, Claire didn’t mention the fact that he hadn’t gone to her room that night, and nor did he. He could hardly tell her that he’d heard what she said to Dave. She was probably relieved that he hadn’t showed up.
The one he was really mad at was Gabe, who’d gotten in the way just when he wasn’t wanted.
He called his cousin on his bedroom phone, and reached him e
asily enough. But Gabe bent his ear with a long description of Freddie Crossman and her children. Randall liked the Crossman family but he hadn’t thought there was so much to be said about them. He wondered if Gabe knew that he said Freddie every second word.
He came off the phone, thoughtful.
Downstairs he found Claire struggling with the computer.
“I’ve just called Gabe,” he said, when he’d finished sorting out her problem.
“Oh, yes. Has he bankrupted you yet?” she asked cheerfully.
“If he has, he was careful not to mention it.” A thought struck him. “I’m not sure I really care. It all seems a long way away. It’ll feel strange to go back.”
“Did Gabe mention when he was coming home?”
“No, we never got around to that.” He was suddenly reluctant to pursue that subject.
“He can’t leave it too long,” Claire said. “It’ll be spring soon, and that’s when the real work starts.”
“What we’ve been doing isn’t real work?” Randall asked plaintively.
“You think this is work? Just wait until we start calving. Then it’s up at all hours, checking, fretting, delivering calves when the mammas can’t do it on their own. We’re always exhausted. But there’s nothing like it. Nothing like being there when a newborn calf takes its first breath, when you’ve made a difference, when-” She checked herself. “Of course, you won’t be here, will you?”
“No,” he said abruptly.
Then, because he couldn’t think what to say next, he went away.
That became the pattern over the next few days. They would talk about something that seemed safe. Then one of them would stumble and bring the conversation to an abrupt end. She never asked him why he hadn’t come to her room that night, and he never broached the subject. Everything between them was unresolved, and likely to remain so forever, as the day of his departure neared.
Blood Brothers Page 15