The Rancher

by Lily Graison

  The Rancher

  Lily Graison

  Copyright © 2011 Lily Graison

  Smashwords Edition

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior written consent of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  The right of Lily Graison to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  First eBook edition August 2012

  First Edition

  All characters in this publication are purely fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Prologue

  Missoula, Montana Territory

  As visions went, she was by far the most alluring one he'd seen in years.

  Holden turned up his glass, swallowed what remained inside, and kept his gaze locked on the woman making her way to the bar. The hem of her brown sateen skirt swept the sawdust floor, the light from the lanterns catching in the shiny material of her dress and drawing his eye to places no decent man should look, but the soft curve of her breasts was too tempting to glance away from.

  He'd seen many beautiful women in his thirty-two years but something about this woman left him dazed. It was probably the amount of whiskey he'd drank, or the fact the light was so dim inside the saloon, but she looked ethereal, like some other-world being straight from one of those fairytale books his daughter Alex had stacked in her room.

  His gaze swept over her again. Her dark hair was left loose, long curls bouncing free over her shoulders and when she put her back to him, he traced the line of her spine to her narrow waist, the gentle flair of her hips to her rounded behind and he felt his throat go dry despite the amount of alcohol he'd consumed.

  He sat up straight in his seat and tore his gaze from her to sweep over the room again.

  His brother, Tristan, had told him this was the best gaming house in all of Missoula and from what he'd seen, Tristan had been right. It was clean, the whiskey was good and the whores were pretty and smelled like a woman should, but picking one to spend the evening with wasn't easy. The blondes reminded him of his late wife, God rest her soul, and the brunettes weren't as buxom as he liked. Of course, they all paled in comparison to the beauty who caught the attention of those not too drunk to notice.

  He turned his gaze back to the bar. She was still there, her face reflected in the mirror on the wall. She wasn't a whore, that much he knew. She was too refined looking, not to mention she'd entered from the street and was now ordering a drink from the looks of it. A lady who drank in public. That was new.

  Picking up his empty glass, he stood, waded through the crowd and approached the bar with one goal in mind. He had to get a closer look at this woman to see if it was the alcohol making her so breathtaking.

  He stopped beside her, ordered another drink, and glanced up at her in the mirror, then turned to where she stood. She was staring down into her glass, the amber liquid untouched. "As whiskey goes, its not bad," he said.

  She turned her head to him and he'd be damned if his heart didn't give a little kick in his chest. Her eyes were the oddest shade of brown he'd ever seen. They reminded him of the whiskey in her glass, a light, swirling amber. The rest of her face was remarkable too. Her complexion was smooth, her lips plump and pink. Small curls framed her face making her look soft and feminine. Beautiful.

  He blinked and nodded to her glass. "Do you always order whiskey then just stare at it?"

  She tilted her head a little to one side. "Why are you talking to me?"

  Holden opened his mouth to answer but closed it with a snap. Beautiful and rude. He smiled and leaned one arm on the bar. "To be honest, now that you ask, I've no idea."

  She stared at him for long moments before smiling and looking back at her glass. "Honesty. That's a rare attribute for a man."

  He raised an eyebrow. "Depends on the man, I suppose."

  Her head turned, those whiskey colored eyes giving him a look from head to toe. "Really? I didn't think any man was capable of it."

  Holden laughed. "Beautiful, rude and bitter. A strange combination."

  Amusement filled her eyes and she turned her body to face him. "I'm also surly, mean-spirited and suspicious."

  "And you apparently don't care what others think."

  "What makes you say that?"

  Holden thumbed up the front of his hat. "I don't know of any lady who would walk into a saloon and order a whiskey at the bar, then stick around to drink it." He glanced down at her glass. "Or stare at it."

  She shrugged one delicate shoulder. "Who says I'm a lady?" She lifted her glass, slung back her whiskey as if she'd been doing it for years and grinned at him while setting the glass back down.

  Holden swallowed his own liquor, nodded to the bartender to refill their glasses and never took his eyes off of her. "I'm Hol…"

  "Don't!"

  Holden shut his mouth, one eyebrow raised as she yelled at him, her right arm raised as if to ward off the words. Her cheeks pinkened before she straightened her spine.

  "No names, please."

  He grinned. "Okay."

  She sighed, her shoulders relaxing. "I find it much easier to just talk to someone without really knowing who they are."

  "Mysterious, rude, bitter and beautiful. Now I'm intrigued."

  She flashed him a tiny smile. "Stop trying to flatter me."

  "Who says I am?"

  She laughed, the sound a tinkling vibration that coursed through his body and ended near his toes. Her eyes sparkled as she laughed, and he knew before the night was out he'd be so smitten with this woman he'd never get her out of his head.

  They talked for close to an hour about nothing specific, consumed more whiskey than he'd drank in months, and when the crowd inside the saloon grew rowdy, their voices raised to the point he couldn't hear what she was saying, she raised up on her toes, her mouth next to his ear, and asked if he'd like to take a walk with her. All thought of buying companionship for the evening was forgotten.

  Out on the wooden sidewalk, she turned and stumbled, her laughter like music as he reached out his arm to steady her. "I think you may have had too much to drink."

  "Are you saying I'm drunk?" She leaned against him and grinned, taking hold of his arm and looping hers through his before turning them and starting down the sidewalk.

  Holden inhaled a breath, her rose scented skin infusing the air around him. "I'd never insult a lady in such a way."

  She laughed again, proving she had more to drink than she was used to and looked up at him with those alluring eyes. "I'm far from drunk, Sir, I can assure you. I would have never left the saloon with you had I been."

  He smiled. "So you would have passed out on the floor instead?"

  "Probably." She inhaled a deep breath, raising her head. "Do you live here?"

  "I thought you didn't want to know anything about me?"

  She gave him a sideways look. "I don't. The less I know about you the better off I'll be, but it's so warm for fall. I'm just trying to find out if it's always this way in Montana."

  It took an effort to mask his disappointment in her not wanting to know who he really was but he shrugged it off. "No. It'll start cooling down soon and once winter sets in, you'll wish you were somewhere else."

  "I doubt that."

  She stopped in front of one of the many hotel's in town and turned to face him. Her eyes were drowsy looking, her lips glistening with moisture from where she'd li
cked them and he'd never wanted to kiss anyone the way he did her. "Is this where you're staying?"

  "Yes."

  He should have picked this hotel, too. He'd chosen the more expensive one down the road and almost wished he could check in here and go grab his things so he could spend his last evening in town with her close by.

  The past week had been hard, a physical and mental drain on his body. Selling off his horses, paying the wranglers and then watching them as they all grabbed a woman in the saloon and headed upstairs planted a seed of longing in him that he hadn't felt in ages. Being so far from home, he could indulge in any manner of debauchery and once the idea was there, he couldn't seem to let it go.

  Alex, his ten year old daughter, was too impressionable to go traipsing off to town to find his comfort with one of the whores at the Diamond Back Saloon in Willow Creek and the dull ache from years of denying his body the pleasure of a woman was felt in every muscle and every nerve. He'd spent an extra night in town just to see those aches eased. No one at home would know, least of all Alex, and the moment he decided to pick one of those pretty ladies at the saloon, in walks a woman who put the others to shame.

  She was still looking up at him, her whiskey colored eyes sparkling in the moonlight and his entire body jolted while looking at her. He wanted her. Wanted her unlike anything he'd wanted in a long time but saying so would ruin the entire evening.

  They stood staring at one another for long minutes, the crowd on the street and sidewalks disappearing and when she smiled at him, the look in her eyes telling him she was thinking the same thing he was, his heart started racing.

  "If I wasn't a lady, I'd be tempted to ask you up to my room."

  Holden's fingers clenched into fists at his side. "If you weren't a lady, I'd take you up on it."

  She licked her lips and Holden's gaze was drawn to her mouth while every nerve in his body jumped, screamed, and demanded he forget his manners. To take advantage of the situation, damn his conscience and take her to bed. Spend the rest of the night between her thighs and make his way home come morning with a memory he'd have a hard time forgetting.

  The wind blew a strand of her hair into her eyes and he pushed it away, tucking it behind her ear. The moment he touched her, caught the faintest scent of roses on her skin, his heart pounded so hard, he had trouble breathing around it.

  She stared up at him, an invitation in her eyes. "I'm in room twelve. Give me ten minutes."

  Turning, she left him standing on the sidewalk and entered the hotel, glancing back over her shoulder to smile at him. He had one night in Missoula and even though he'd never see this woman again, he'd carry the memory of her with him always. The way she'd looked at him said she would too. The invitation to her room was there and he wasn't stupid enough to pass on it.

  Chapter One

  Good Lord above, the man was all but naked!

  Laurel blinked and nearly ran the wagon into the fence as she stared at him. She managed to stop the horses and even remembered to set the brake on the wagon, reminding herself that she was a lady and averted her gaze.

  Alexandra Avery fidgeted in the seat beside of her and Laurel gave her a nod of her head, watching as the girl stood and jumped from the wagon, running to whom she assumed was her father. The man leaned down as the girl rushed out an explanation and when he turned his head to look her way, and she got a good look at his face, Laurel's heart skipped a beat as it slammed against her ribcage. "Oh, sweet heavens, no." It couldn't be!

  He stood to his full height, his eyes widening a fraction as he looked at her, before he grinned so devilishly, her breath caught. She knew in an instant she was in trouble.

  How in the world did she end up in the same town as him? The odds were too fantastic to even imagine.

  Memories of them together screamed through her head as she stared at him. She'd spent every day since that night in Missoula trying to forget about him. So far, she'd managed to only think of him once or twice a day but seeing him again, standing right in front of her with nothing but his trousers, hat, and a smile on, she cursed her luck.

  Squaring her shoulders, Laurel climbed from the borrowed wagon and tried to keep her focus on his face as she crossed the space to where he stood. It wasn't easy. Not with the way the sun glinted off the sweat on his chest, the small beads of perspiration shimmering like small jewels and drawing her gaze to the hard lines of his naked torso. She'd felt those muscles against her hands, kissed them with lips that still tingled just thinking about it and she was near dizzy by the time she reached him.

  She lifted her chin, determined to keep her gaze on his face, and hoped he couldn't hear her stammering heart beat. "Mr. Avery?" His gaze bore into her and Laurel's heart screeched to a stop before it pounded so hard she fought for breath. She cleared her throat and blinked, trying to regain her composure.

  When she knew her voice wouldn't squeak, she said, "I'm Laurel Montgomery, the new school teacher."

  The grin on his face grew as if he knew some wicked secret he wasn't about to share with her. But Laurel knew his secrets. Well, the ones he'd displayed for her one warm fall night in Missoula four weeks ago.

  Laurel glanced at Alexandra, his daughter, apparently, her little arms crossed over her chest and an identical smirk was on her face. She stared at her, trying to come to grips with the fact she'd more than likely slept with a married man. The guilt that followed caused the butterflies swimming in her stomach to die and her stomach ached to the point she felt ill.

  She lifted her head, cleared her throat and met his smiling eyes with bitter resentment growing in her heart. "I've been meaning to meet all the parents of my students and you were first on my list."

  "I'm flattered." The look in his eyes changed and Laurel knew he was remembering that night too. Damn his hide. Why did he have to live here?

  His voice was just as deep as she remembered and the sound of it caressed her flesh as if he'd physically touched her. Goose bumps prickled her arms and she ignored the feeling, trying to remember all she planned to say to him. "Don't be flattered, Mr. Avery. What I have to tell you is far from becoming." Laurel turned her gaze on Alexandra, throwing her a disapproving look before facing him again. "I'm sorry to say your daughter is a menace and has disrupted my class on a daily basis."

  That got his attention. The smile vanished and when he looked down at Alexandra, the girl's puffed-up pose, deflated. "What did you do?"

  Alexandra huffed out a breath, her hands curled into fists. "Jesse started it. He said I was the ugliest boy he'd ever seen so, I popped him one." She grinned. "He cried like a little girl."

  Laurel exhaled, exasperated. "He most certainly did not, Alexandra. You're telling stories again."

  The girl whirled on her, her arm flung to point at her. "And she won't stop calling me Alexandra. I've told her a hundred times, pa, my name is Alex, but she just won't say it."

  Laying his hand on Alexandra's shoulder, the girl quieted instantly. When he looked up, amusement shined in his eyes. "She doesn’t like to be called Alexandra."

  "I've noticed but that isn't reason enough to disrupt my classroom everyday without fail."

  "No, it's not."

  Laurel glanced at Alexandra before straightening her spine and looking back up. "Can we speak alone, please?"

  Something in his eyes said she'd made a mistake in making that small request. The smile that followed said as much too. He told Alex to wait on the front porch for him and when he turned to face her again, Laurel felt instantly exposed. His gaze never left her face but she knew he was picturing her naked. It was in the smile he gave her, the way his eyelids lowered just a fraction, as if he too was remembering that night. A night, she knew now, spelled trouble. Trouble she didn't want or need, regardless of the fact he was the most tempting thing she'd ever clapped eyes on.