by Cora Seton
SAVED BY THE bonnet. Riley ducked her head to block Boone’s view of her face. Since when did she blush so much? There was something about this Regency stuff that made her reactions to Boone’s flirting over-the-top. She couldn’t believe she’d pressed her naked body against this man less than two hours ago. He’d felt… wonderful.
“Really, Lieutenant Rudman. Maybe we need that chaperone after all,” she managed to say.
“Are you ever going to get my rank right?”
“Never. Is this the whole date? A walk down the hill?” She wasn’t going to discuss his lusts. Or her own.
“No, but I’ve got to grab something.” He let go of her hand and jogged to the nearest outbuilding—the old bunkhouse. Boone let himself inside and reappeared a moment later with a backpack, shutting the door behind him. “If I’d been thinking, I would have scheduled the date earlier and invited you for dinner,” he said when he caught up to her again. “But I didn’t, and I know you’ve eaten already, so I only packed us a snack.” He glanced at her feet. “Think you can handle a little walk in those shoes?”
“They’re sturdier than they look.” She was wearing a light pair of boots that looked similar to those a Regency woman would own but were actually a much more comfortable modern equivalent. Footwear was too important to stint on in Riley’s opinion. She liked being active and didn’t mean to be hampered by her clothes.
He led the way a little farther down the track and then began to cut across the fields. That was harder going, but Riley followed him gamely, lifting her skirts as she traversed the uneven ground. After some hesitation, she allowed him to hold her hand as they crossed the worst parts. It seemed silly to refuse after what they’d done. She liked the swish of fabric around her legs as she walked and the girlishness of the green ribbons floating down from her hat behind her.
Despite her better judgement, she enjoyed Boone’s solicitude and the opportunities the walk afforded them for touching, too. When they came to a barbed wire fence, they turned and followed it until they reached a gate.
“Just a little farther,” Boone said. Riley nodded. She knew where they were going, so she wasn’t surprised when he stopped a few minutes later. “Here we are.”
Riley understood why he’d chosen the place—an old favorite of theirs when they wanted to picnic as kids. The ground fell away rapidly here and the Beartooth Mountains were clear in the distance. Boone opened his backpack and pulled out a blanket which he spread on the ground. He gestured for her to sit, and he sat next to her, taking out a bottle of wine and two glasses.
“Hold these.” He handed her the two glasses, worked a corkscrew into the wine and popped the cork. When he’d poured the drinks, he put the bottle down, took back one of the glasses and lifted it. “To whatever happens next.”
After a moment, she decided she could toast to that. “To whatever happens next.” She took a sip and closed her eyes. It was good. So good. “I’ve never had this before.”
“It’s a private vintage,” he explained. “I had it on hand for later. For when the community was up and running.”
“Why did you open it tonight?” She was both honored and a little unnerved.
“Because you’ve always been my community.”
“Right. Which is why—”
He cut her off, unwilling to let her make her accusations again. “I made a mistake, Riley. A huge mistake. I wish you’d been my girlfriend these past thirteen years. I’ve always regretted what I did.” He stared at the vista before them.
She digested this in silence. “So what do Clay, Jericho and Walker think about you proposing to me?”
“I don’t think any of them believe you’ll have me.”
“Are you sure it’s not the other way around?”
“Positive. You made an impression on them too that last night.”
“I remember,” she said sourly. The Horsemen’s laughter still echoed in her ears.
“Tell me about Jane Austen,” Boone said suddenly. “What is it about the Regency era that calls to you?”
THE CHANGE OF topic left Riley scrambling to keep up. “I think it’s the idea that there is enough time,” she said. “When you watch a Jane Austen movie, you see grown women living these graceful, leisurely lives. They spend time together, they go for walks, they’re creative. I mean, they were circumscribed by so many rules, none of us would truly like to live that way, but even though I was distracted today, my afternoon of painting felt… decadent.”
“What distracted you?”
She glanced down. “The prospect of losing the ranch I thought would be my home.”
“It could still be your home.”
She turned to him. “Boone, I need you to tell me the truth. Don’t play with me. Are you for real with this marriage thing?”
“Yes.” He twined his fingers in hers. “I know this is a crazy situation for both of us, but why couldn’t it work? I think we’re better suited for a sudden marriage than most people, don’t you?”
“Why?”
“Well, there’s a hell of an attraction between us, for one thing, but that’s just a start. Don’t you remember how good things used to be between us when we were kids? Or do you only remember the one time I was an ass.”
“The one time?”
“Don’t focus on the bad stuff, Riley.”
“It’s hard to look past it.”
“Try. Not just for me—for both of us.” He took a sip of his wine. The glass seemed too small for his large, capable hand. “Can I ask you another question?”
“Of course.” She was all too aware of his fingers tangled in hers. They were callused from hard work. Strong.
“Do you ever think about having a family?”
She pulled back but he caught her hand and held on. After a brief struggle, she gave in. “Yes.”
“How many kids do you want?”
“Two.” She’d always wanted two. She wasn’t sure why.
“Me, too.”
This time she succeeded in pulling her hand away from his and got to her knees. “We can’t have this conversation.”
“Why not?” He put down his glass and scrambled to stand as she did.
“Because I want kids—badly. And unless something changes, I won’t ever get to have them.” Riley dusted off the skirts of her gown, but Boone didn’t move. His tone was concerned when he spoke again.
“Is something wrong?”
“Oh… no, not like that,” she rushed to say. “I mean, I tried to adopt, but it fell through because I lost my job. Without a real career, no adoption agency will consider giving me a child. When my time at Westfield is up, I’ll have to start all over and work for several years before I can apply again. There’s no guarantee it’ll ever happen.”
“You want a child badly enough to raise one on your own?” Boone asked.
She nodded. “Of course.”
“Then let me give you one and let’s raise it together.”
She held up her hands to ward him off when he stepped nearer. “Jesus, Boone. Has anyone ever told you you’re intense?”
“Yeah,” Boone said ruefully, coming to a stop. “More than once. But I mean it, Riley. I’d have kids with you.”
Riley searched for a way to throw him off. She wasn’t at all ready for this conversation. Kids with Boone sounded… magnificent, especially if they made them the old-fashioned way. After everything they’d done today, her body was wide awake and hungry for more. She wanted him to touch her again. She wanted so much more.
“Are you going to have horses?” she asked to deflect him. “Or is that unsustainable?”
“That’s not an answer.”
“I’m not ready to talk about it.”
He looked like he’d argue. Instead, he let her off the hook. “We’ll have horses. Bison, too.”
“Bison?”
“I’ve been studying up on sustainable ranching practices, and there’s already a herd nearby. Jake Matheson from the Double-Bar-K has a ha
nd in it. We’ll consult with him and get a small herd up and running. Bison are indigenous to Montana, so they don’t have as big an impact on grazing land.”
“I’ve missed the horses,” Riley said. “I ride when I can, but it isn’t the same.”
He held out a hand to her again and she took it without thinking. She loved the way his fingers felt in hers. “If we marry, you’ll have a horse of your own.” He tugged her back down to sit beside him.
Riley wasn’t ready to talk about marriage either, but she didn’t protest. She arranged the folds of her dress around her and tried to think of something else to say.
“What drove you and the Horsemen so hard to enter the military? I could never get a real reason out of any of you.”
Boone picked up his wine glass and played with it, but didn’t drink. “The usual stuff. Wanted to serve our country. Wanted to do something meaningful. I always liked being active. I couldn’t see spending the rest of my life behind a desk. Neither could the others.”
“You could have ranched.”
“None of us had the money to do that. Our parents kept horses and let us ride, but you know none of us comes from a ranching family. Besides, I needed some adventure. A bigger purpose than just raising cattle.”
“Did it turn out like you expected?”
“In some ways yes and in other ways no. I was smart enough to know I’d see things that would be hard to forget, and I was right, but it wasn’t the things you might think. The blood and guts and all that.” He looked down at her. “Sorry. Not too romantic.”
“Maybe not, but it’s true, isn’t it? I’ll take truth over romance.” She glanced up to see a fond smile on his lips.
“Sometimes you say the damnedest things, Riley.”
She thought he might kiss her again, but he didn’t, and she was disappointed. “Anyway, it wasn’t that, although no one can look on war and death and not be affected.”
“What was it?”
“We kept seeing the same thing over and over again.” He sat up straight and gestured with his hands. “People had built a life around a place—a system that worked. They’d figured out what to grow, what animals to keep, what businesses worked, what types of shelter and housing. And then something in their environment shifted and pretty soon all hell broke loose. It doesn’t matter if you’re talking about subsistence farming or city living. All lifestyles are built on the premise that things will stay the same. And guess what? They never do.”
“Will your sustainable community be resistant to change?”
“Not resistant—flexible. The idea is to work with what you have rather than fight against it. And to convince people in the West that we might not need as much as we think we do.”
“That makes sense.” They sat so close together their legs touched. It felt natural when Boone turned and kissed her just as the sun kissed the top of the mountains to the west. His mouth was soft, searching. She met it hungrily, leaning into him as he slid an arm around her shoulders to support her. His cotton shirt was smooth under her hand, but the stubble on his jaw scratched her skin.
She knew she should pull away and leave this kiss chaste and pure—the gesture of a moment, nothing more. But she couldn’t pull away. She wasn’t through with Boone and he didn’t seem to be through with her either. He pulled her tighter and deepened the kiss until she clung to him, breathless.
Suffused with warmth and craving, she fit herself into his arms, wanting nothing more than the kiss to go on and on. She could stay like this with Boone forever—
Riley tore herself from his arms again.
Wasn’t that exactly what he wanted? Hadn’t he already decided to marry her because he needed to?
Boone followed her, snatching another kiss, and another. “I know you want more time.” He took her hand before she could scramble away. “I wish I had it to give to you, but I don’t, so you’ll have to trust me when I say it’ll turn out all right. We can make a go of this; I know we can.”
“I don’t want a fake marriage.”
“I don’t either. Riley, there’s something good between us. I know you feel it, too.”
“It’s not enough, Boone. You’re asking me to share your life. I won’t cheapen marriage by treating it like a game.”
Boone drew back. She waited for him to speak, wondering if he was crafting an argument in his head he thought she couldn’t refuse.
“You’re right; Fulsom’s rules have got me doing all kinds of things I wouldn’t normally do,” he said. “The thing is, if I don’t have a wife on June first, we’ll all lose. Fulsom will take Westfield back.”
Riley drew in a shaky breath. So she’d lose her ranch all over again. “Can’t you buy it from him?”
He hesitated. “No, I can’t. I didn’t want to say it before because I don’t want that to be the reason you marry me, and I don’t want you to feel like I’m forcing your hand, but it’s the truth, Riley. Someone’s got to marry me, or none of us will get Westfield.”
Riley shifted and he let her go. Could she bear to lose the ranch?
Could she bear to marry a man who didn’t love her—even for a little while?
As if he read her mind, Boone’s expression softened and he touched her hand. “I wish I could do this the way you deserve. Down on one knee with a ring. Telling you I love you. I do love you for the past we’ve shared but you and I need to spend more time together before we know how we feel now. I hurt you. You don’t trust me, but if you marry me, maybe we’ll find out this thing between us can go the distance.”
Riley didn’t know how to answer. Marrying to secure a ranch went against everything she believed in. Part of her longed to believe Boone’s assurances that they could make a life together, but she wasn’t a child anymore and she couldn’t be fooled. Boone wanted Westfield. He wanted his community. If she wanted the manor, she had to agree to his terms. There was no way a marriage based on such inequality could flourish.
Still, what was the alternative? Leave Chance Creek? Send Nora back to Baltimore? Let down Savannah and Avery, too?
Boone touched her wrist. “Six months to paint. Six months to be with your friends. A chance to save Westfield. If you want a baby, I’ll give that to you too.” His voice went husky as he reached up to cup her chin and brushed his mouth over hers. “I’ll love you night and day until you’re carrying my child.”
A tide of longing washed over Riley—both for the love making, and the possible result. She shook her head. “I won’t have a child if I don’t love the father. That’s different than adopting.”
“Then give us the chance to fall in love.”
Did he want to fall in love with her? She knew all too well she could love him. Riley took a deep breath, feeling like she stood on the edge of a precipice and Boone was urging her to jump. Fear and exhilaration made a heady mixture in her veins. And after all, she really didn’t have a choice. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll marry you. On three conditions.”
He pulled back. “Tell me.” He watched her intently.
“One, you don’t come between me and my friends. Two, we have a Regency wedding. And three, I call the shots about our relationship. No touching, no kissing, no nothing unless I say so.”
A look came into Boone’s eyes that made Riley bite her lip.
“Maybe you should choose to kiss me right now,” he suggested.
That sounded like a good idea.
“We did just get engaged,” he added conversationally.
Why not jump off the cliff and see where she’d land? Riley kissed him.
And couldn’t seem to stop.
Chapter Seven
‡
BOONE DID HIS best to stay in control, but when it came to Riley that seemed impossible. With every passing moment, he felt the years draining away until he was as young and untried as he’d been before he’d ever met Melissa. Riley understood him better than he understood himself. Alone on this blanket in the middle of Westfield, away from all the complications
of their lives, she shorted out the electric fence he’d built to shield his heart and brought him face to face with everything he wanted but was too afraid to admit he did.
He’d nearly lost all restraint when they’d stood in the stream and he was all too close to losing it again now. He kept waiting for Riley to pull back, but instead she clung to him as if she couldn’t bear to let him go.
He knew exactly how she felt.
He wasn’t sure if he was lowering her to the ground, or if she was the one tugging him down as they kissed all the while. She’d wanted to call the shots, and he’d meant to let her once he’d stolen a single kiss.
Now he didn’t know what he was doing.
With Riley underneath him, her arms wrapped around his neck, the brush of her mouth over his unlocked every frustrated fantasy he’d concocted during his sleepless vigil the night before. He held out for what seemed like an eternity, but it might only have been moments before he gave in to his baser needs and slid his hands up her back to search for the opening to her dress. He found ties at the back of her neck and waist, but another garment underneath the first blocked his way even after he undid them. With a growl of frustration, he reared up and examined her gown.
Riley smiled a Cheshire cat smile as he hunted for a way past the defenses of her outfit. But Boone wasn’t a Navy SEAL for nothing. He’d been trained to breach enemy strongholds, and a Jane Austen gown couldn’t stand up to his determination. Still, the damn thing frustrated him at every turn.
When he couldn’t find any way to access her breasts, he decided to hitch up her hem and try his luck from that angle.
“Having fun, sailor?” Riley asked, laughter all too clear in her voice.
“Don’t worry. I’ll have you out of there in a jiffy.”
“Good luck.”
Boone needed it. After a brief tussle with several layers of fabric he managed to reach her leg and discovered she wore thigh-high stockings, but above them her skin was bare. He skimmed his hands over her thighs and was rewarded when she gasped and leaned back, evidently enjoying his touch, but as he traced his fingers upwards, the fabric of her garments bunched over his arm and got in the way again.