The Cowgirl Who Loved Horses, Queens of Montana Bonus Book

by Vanessa Bartal

  Chapter 4

  At last Cecily’s toes were becoming numb from the coolness of the stream. Reluctantly she pulled away from him and his lips followed, clinging to hers, willing her not to break the moment. Finally they rested their foreheads together and sucked air as they tried to return their breathing to normal.

  “What was that?” Marcus asked. His voice was shaky.

  “I wish I knew,” Cecily said. She could barely get the words out. She was trembling.

  “You’re cold,” he said.

  “Am I?” She didn’t feel cold. She felt…she wasn’t sure what she felt, but it was something she had never experienced before.

  He bent and swept her into his arms, carried her out of the stream, and set her down on the bank. They stood toe to toe looking at each other, not touching and not speaking. He reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, and her whole body was electrified from the brief contact.

  “Our shoes are down there,” she said. She pointed a dozen feet downstream

  He nodded.

  Neither of them made a move for a few more seconds. Then he placed his hand on her waist and she jumped. He started to lean toward her again, but she moved away.

  “Marcus, no. We said one kiss.”

  “Things change,” he said.

  “Not between us they don’t. Or have you suddenly broken up with Miss Montana?”

  He gave a reluctant smile at her jealous tone. “No, Lacey and I are still together.”

  She nodded, frowning. Not only had she just kissed Marcus, but she had broken her own rules and kissed someone who had a girlfriend. “Let’s find our shoes.” She moved away from him and his hand dropped listlessly to his side.

  They refastened their shoes and walked side by side back to their vehicles.

  “Thank you for lunch,” she said politely. She opened her truck door and turned to face him. He surprised her by brushing his knuckles gently along her jaw.

  “Doesn’t anyone ever call you anything besides Cecily?”

  “No.”

  “I’m going to,” he said. He grasped her waist and lifted her carefully into her seat. “This isn’t over.” He took her hand and kissed the back of it. “See you later, Lee.”

  She didn’t move a muscle until she saw him hop up into his truck cab, start it up, and drive away. She turned to face forward and closed her door.

  “He called me Lee,” she said dumbly, and then she rested her head on the steering wheel and cried. The raw passion between them had left her dazed and frazzled, breaking open the tight container she had built around her emotions. It was a long time later that she returned to her ranch, weak and exhausted.

  From that day forward, Marcus came to church every Sunday. And every Sunday he asked her to the park. And every time he asked Cecily refused.

  She held her breath to see if news of their meeting had leaked, but it hadn’t. She was realistic enough to know that while they might be able to get away with one clandestine encounter their secret wouldn’t keep on a weekly basis. Besides that, she was downright afraid of him. One touch, one look and she would give in to him, to his kisses. She wasn’t so naïve that she didn’t realize where their level of kissing would lead if they kept it up, and that was a can of worms she wasn’t willing to open.

  Besides church she ran into him once in the store.

  “Don’t tell me you do the shopping for your family, too,” she said. Seeing him on a weekly basis while trying to avoid him was making her nervous and irritable.

  He smiled. “I’m picking up something for my mom.” His fingers brushed her waist. “Have lunch with me.”

  She shook her head.

  “Chicken,” he whispered.

  “Bock, bock,” she replied.

  His laughter echoed behind her as she almost sprinted away from him.

  Finally it was July fourth. She wasn’t sure if his family would hold their annual celebration, but they must have decided to go on with life as usual because his mother called to invite her and all her ranch hands.

  Cecily had to repress a smile as she accepted the invitation. If Mrs. Henshaw knew how few hands the Blakes had now, she would plan for less food. Then she realized she probably should tell her so she would do just that.

  “Mrs. Henshaw, we only have a handful of help coming this year. Also, my brother has a friend in from out of town that week. Would it be an imposition if he tagged along?”

  “Certainly not, dear. You bring anyone you like.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Cecily said. She had always liked Mrs. Henshaw; she was a sweet woman.

  “As far as food goes your cook knows what to do. She sends the same thing every year.”

  Cecily’s pride wouldn’t allow her to tell the older woman they’d let their cook go. It must be a sign of how much the Henshaws had withdrawn from society if she didn’t know.

  “Would you remind me, please, what she brings? I’m afraid I can’t remember.”

  “A fruit salad.”

  “That’s all?” Cecily asked. “Surely we can contribute more than that.” She had never realized how paltry their offering was in comparison to everyone else. Mrs. Henshaw cooked enough beef to make up an entire cow, and Libby Dobbins made almost everything else.

  “You may bring whatever you’d like, dear. Thank you for asking.” She sounded pleasantly surprised by Cecily’s offer.

  “I’ll do that. See you in a few days, Mrs. Henshaw. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, dear. Take care.”

  “You, too.”

  She hung up thinking what a nice woman Mrs. Henshaw was. Marcus was more reserved with his emotions, like his father. Mathew had received his mother’s outright sweetness.

  What would she be like as a mother-in-law, Cecily wondered, and then blushed at the unbidden thought and sent it away. I’m sure one day soon Lacey-the-Beautiful will find out. Her teeth slammed together with force and then ground into each other. Lacey was walking perfection from the tip of her lustrous hair to the soles of her beautiful feet. And her feet were beautiful; Cecily had checked. She was obviously Marcus’s type. She fit the image of their wealthy perfection in a way Cecily never could. Even though she loved pretty things, running her own business had turned her into a rough and tumble cowgirl.

  She sighed, hating the man-obsessed woman she was turning into, and resenting Marcus for making her think of him so often. It was an irrational anger, but it gave her solace from her other more complicated emotions and desires, so she held onto it.

  It shouldn’t have come as a surprise when Marcus showed up one Monday morning as she stood watching her new stallion run in the corral.

  “That’s a fine looking specimen,” he said. He came up to stand beside her and she was reminded of that day two years ago when they had shared their first fateful kiss.

  She feigned surprise as she turned to look at him, but of course she had been intensely aware of him since his truck entered their long lane.

  “Thank you, he’s a recent purchase.”

  He grinned. “I wasn’t talking about the horse, but he looks nice, too.” He frowned as he looked around. “I see more horses than cows.”

  “Have you come to spy on me?”

  He nodded. “We Henshaws like to keep an eye on the competition.”

  The thought of their tiny ranch being competition for the Henshaw’s vast spread was laughable, and so she laughed. “What do you want, really?”

  “You know what I want,” he said. His tone was low and intimate. He didn’t touch her, but she reacted as if he did by leaning more of her weight on the fence for support. She swallowed and found her throat suddenly dry. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

  “True enough,” she said.

  “Why?”

  “You know why.”

  He let out a frustrated breath. “It won’t work, Lee, not with the way things are between us.”

  “The way things are between us,” she echoed. “You
mean how you have a girlfriend and we’re from two different worlds?”

  Now it was his turn to echo her. “Two different worlds? What are you talking about? We’ve been neighbors for generations.”

  “And that’s as close as we’ll ever get socially.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Grow up, little girl. This isn’t the eighteenth century. Wealth means nothing in the scheme of things.”

  “You can only say that when you’re the one who is wealthy,” she told him. She noticed he didn’t address the issue of his girlfriend as an obstacle between them.

  “You’re being difficult,” he said.

  “I’m being impossible, which is in keeping with our current circumstances. I won’t be what you want me to be, Marcus.”

  “How do you know what I want you to be?” he asked.

  “Because I know,” she said. He wanted to maintain his current girlfriend and keep her, Cecily, as a side dish. Only she wouldn’t comply, and it was making him angry. “I may not have much, but I have my pride and my reputation. I intend to keep both in tact.”

  Instead of making him angry her words amused him. He gave her a cocky half smile she found annoyingly endearing. “You can run, Lee, but you can’t hide.” He placed a hand on either side of the rail behind her so she was pinned to the fence and pressed close against him. “I know where you live and also where you work.”

  “You have no idea how stubborn I can be,” she told him. It was an effort to get the words out. The proximity of his body, so close to hers, was having its usual numbing effect on her brain.

  “I intend to find out,” he said. His gaze dropped to her lips, but he didn’t try to kiss her. He lingered a half inch away, and then he let go of the fence and strode away.

  She remained leaning against the fencepost for support until she could no longer see his vehicle in the long driveway, and then she sagged to the ground and rested her head on her knees.

  Blast you, Marcus Henshaw, she thought as she sucked in an unsteady breath. He had no right to show up here and throw her off balance. Her home was her sanctuary, the one place she was safe and free to let down her guard. Now that safety was gone. From now on every truck she heard would cause her heart to pound, wondering if it might be him, and halfway hoping it was.

  You won’t win, she raged inwardly. You can try, but you won’t. I’ve lost my family name, my youth, and any future outside of this ranch, but you won’t win my pride or my integrity.

  But even as she thought it her fingers pressed against her lips as she remembered the way he had kissed her a few weeks ago in the stream.

  She let out a groan and dropped her head to her knees once more. She would keep him at bay; she had to, or she would lose herself completely.