Texas Proud (Vincente 2)

by Constance O'Banyon

  "You are so beautiful."

  She felt pleased by his words, and a flame burned within her as his hot gaze drifted down her body.

  Noble slowly guided her down onto the grass and lay down beside her. The stars arched across the sky like a sparkling umbrella, and their reflections glowed in the depths of his dark eyes. The hot wind blew softly, stirring the fragrant wildflowers and perfuming the air.

  "Tell me to stop and I will, Rachel." His voice was insistent, and she knew he would let her go if she asked him to.

  Her mouth was inches away from his throat. She turned her head the merest bit and touched her lips to the throbbing pulse, feeling life flowing through his body. Heat rose in her and her heart pounded, pounded to match his pulse. Did he hear it? She was playing with danger and she knew it.

  Noble was like a swirling undertow, like the quicksand that had been drawing her under today. Noble was her peril tonight, perhaps more dangerous than the quicksand.

  For her answer, she raised her arms to him.

  Noble uttered a cry as his body sought hers. He kissed and caressed her, and she wanted to savor the moment. She thought she would die of longing when he moved his hand between her legs to stroke and caress her there. She bit her lip to keep from crying out at the delicious sensations that quaked through her body. Why was he torturing her? she wondered. She pressed forward so she could get closer to those wonderful hands that were robbing her strength and awaking her sleeping passion.

  "Why do I feel this way with you?" she asked, needing to know.

  "Because we were destined to be together," he answered simply, his eyes somehow sad. "I knew this would happen the day you came to my father's grave. You knew it too."

  "Yes, I think I did know it then," she admitted. "Although not consciously." She touched his cheek, and her fingers drifted into his hair. "I fought you, Noble, but I lost tonight."

  He pressed his rough cheek to hers and whispered, "Neither of us could escape this moment, Rachel. If ever a woman was created for a man, you were created for me."

  He stood up, and her eyes followed him. She watched him remove his shirt and drop it onto the ground. His skin was bathed in silver moonlight as he slipped out of his trousers and stood naked before her. She had once compared him to one of the gods of his fountains, but he was more beautiful than any myth. And he was flesh and bloodnot cold stone.

  Noble came down to her and she melted against him. Hard muscles met soft curves, as if they had been created to fit perfectly together. Warm, liquid sweetness crept through her body.

  Yes, he was right; they did belong together. She had first felt it that day when she was only sixteen and he'd given her Faro. But at sixteen, it had been a young, budding love. Now it was explosive deep and consuming, a woman's love. Her woman's heart must have known the instant she'd looked at him through her gun sights the moment she knew she couldn't shoot him.

  "I need you so, Rachel," he whispered into her ear, his breath stirring against her cheek. "You feel it too."

  "Yes," she said at last. "But I didn't want this to happen."

  "Green Eyes, sweet Green Eyes," he murmured softly, drawing her close to him. "It had to happen.

  She was unable to do anything but moan with pleasure as he touched her in all the right places, kissing her into final submission.

  Rachel had come to him tonight willingly. She wanted to be so close to him that she could feel every breath he took as if it were her own. He awoke within her something wild and wonderful, and as frightening as it was consuming.

  Noble pulled her forward, grasped her hips. His body shook with the effort to take her slowly. With hard-won restraint he slipped gently inside her. Her velvet softness closed around him, and he whispered her name in agony.

  He heard her gasp from the stinging pain he caused her when he stabbed past her virginal barrier. He stopped, holding himself there, allowing her to become accustomed to the feel of him inside her. Then gently, slowly, he glided forward, then with the same gentleness he slid back.

  Rachel had never imagined that the act of mating could be so wonderful. Her eyes were wide with wonder as she waited for each new motion. She felt him inside her as if he were a part of her. When he slid back, she felt wild excitement when he lunged forward, it was all she could do to keep from crying out at the passion that ripped through her. Her heart furiously thumped against the wall of her chest. She closed her eyes and gasped, trying to hold on to reality, but this was her reality-he was the reason she existed.

  When Noble slowly inched deeper inside her, he measured his thrusts with temperance, introducing her untested body to the pleasures of the flesh.

  Rachel bit her trembling lip and groaned. Her nails dug into his back when he moved faster inside her, setting a sensuous tempo.

  When Noble was certain that he had not hurt her, he rested his hands on the small of her back, guiding and instructing her.

  His movements escalated, and Rachel tossed her head back, arched her hips forward, meeting each of his powerful thrusts with one of her own.

  Their bodies seemed to merge like the moon and the stars like the wind in the trees-like the earth and the wide Texas sky. They moved together in silken harmony, blending flesh to flesh, fusing, heart against heart.

  Rachel felt as though every step she had taken her whole life had been bringing her to this moment-this man.

  She bit her lip and cried out as her body erupted, trembled and erupted again. Noble stroked her damp hair, kissed her cheek, holding her tightly in his arms. She felt so much a part of him that she had the sensation that he was breathing for both of them.

  Long after their torrid lovemaking, they lay silent in each other's arms. There seemed to be no words to describe what had happened to them.

  Noble brushed his lips against her cheek and then gave her a heart-melting smile. "Green Eyes, you..." He couldn't find the right words. "I have never felt this way before."

  Rachel touched his face with the tips of her fingers, and her eyes misted because of the beauty of their coming together. She'd been purged of hate and left with only love, desire need.

  Winna Mae had been right; love could be beautiful.

  Rachel looked at him quizzically. "What about the woman you are betrothed to in Spain?"

  "That was finished years ago. I wrote her father and declined the honor of her hand. Since we had never met, I don't think the lady grieved much. Probably she was as relieved as I."

  "If she had known you, she never would have let you go." Rachel didn't know what had possessed her to say such a thing to him. She slowly raised her gaze to his. Warmth emanated from his velvet-soft brown eyes.

  "Say that you will always belong to me," he urged in a deep tone. And then he closed his eyes in growing frustration. He had expected to marry her after tonight, and he had desired her more than he'd ever desired any woman. But he hadn't expected to feel so deeply about her. "Say it," he demanded. "Say you belong to me."

  Rachel felt her mind caving in upon her. Sudden awareness of what she'd done made her tremble with self-loathing. Had he made love to her sister in this same way, impregnated her and then left her? She turned away from him, wishing she could run and never stop. Visions of her sister stood between them like the slicing edge of a sword. She sat up and dropped her head in her hands. She was no different from her sister, after all.

  Noble watched her with a bewildered expression. "What's wrong, Rachel?" His hand went to her stomach. "Did I hurt you, Green Eyes?"

  Her voice came out like a gunshot. "Tell me about you and my sister."

  His lips thinned and he took on the expression of a man marshaling his patience. His hand dropped away from her, and she could feel him stiffen and emotionally pull away from her.

  Escalating frustration sharpened his tone. "You haven't spoken to Delia about me, have you?"

  "I don't have to. I already know what happened between the two of you." She glanced into his eyes, feeling guilt settle on her like a swir
ling black fog. "If there was nothing between you and her, you would have said so long before now."

  "Ask your sister," he said coldly.

  She rested her folded arms on her knees and gazed at the river. "I don't know. I'm so confused."

  "Are you blaming me for what happened between us tonight, Rachel?" He took in a deep breath. "I shouldn't have rushed you. I should have waited until-"

  "No," she said, turning to him, her long hair swirling about her face. "I came to you of my own free will, and I'm not sorry." She hung her head. "Even the thought of you and Delia together didn't stop me. But now my sister is all I can think about."

  "Only Delia can give you the answers you seek," he said, feeling somehow betrayed by her lack of trust.

  "Delia wouldn't have lied to my father."

  "And yet you believe that I'd get a woman with child and desert her? Don't do this to us, Rachel. I'm asking you to trust me."

  She stood up, and silvery moonlight caressed her naked body. "Give me time, Noble."

  He stood beside her, turning her toward his arms. "Have I done wrong in taking your innocence, Rachel?" He looked at her carefully when he said, "You could marry me."

  In spite of her resolve not to let him touch her, she snuggled against his broad chest, and his arms surrounded her. He tilted her chin and kissed her tenderly, his hands running up and down her back and then settling her against him.

  Suddenly she broke away from him and stepped back. "I can't be your wife, Noble." The words were ripped from her throat. "And you don't really want me. You only want to make amends through me for what you did to Delia."

  His voice was soft with regret, his gaze so powerful that she had to dig in her heels to keep from going to him. "Is that what you really think of me?"

  Convulsive sobs built in her throat. She had to get away before she broke down completely. "You have never denied that you fathered Delia's child."

  "I asked you to trust me. I have asked you re peatedly to speak to your sister about what happened."

  She shook her head. "I have to go now."

  He pulled her to him again; his arms tightened about her and he rested his chin on the top of her head. "I will be waiting for you."

  She looked up at him, his handsome face half in shadows, but she still saw the expression of pain and sadness. "We can never meet like this again, Noble."

  He put her away from him and leaned back. He stared up at the stars, drawing a slow, deep breath. "Not even if I promise to keep my hands off you?" He turned to look at her. "If you will just let me talk to you sometimes, I promise not to touch you."

  "No. I can t."

  With a smothered oath, he glared at her. "Dammit, Rachel, how can I make you understand?" He paused, groping for words. "Tonight was a mistake; I admit that. I blame myself because I wanted you. I should have exercised more restraint."

  Rachel felt as if someone had thrown a dash of cold water in her face. Pain pulsed right where her heart was located. "I understand more than you think I do, Noble."

  "No, Green Eyes, you don't. As long as your sister stands between us, I have no right to..." His voice trailed off.

  He had physically distanced himself from her, and had turned off his emotions as one would snuff out a candle. Had Delia once felt this same coldness in him?

  She fought against the tears that burned at the back of her eyelids. She wiped her cheek, hoping Noble hadn't noticed. "I must be going." She quickly dressed, knowing that he was doing the same.

  At last he stood before her, close but not touching, anguish etched on his handsome features. "Rachel, if you ever need anything, promise that you'll come to me."

  He was dismissing her, sending her away. But it was her fault. She was the one who kept seeing her sister in his arms. "Good-bye, Noble."

  "There is no good-bye between us, Rachel. I will wait for you to come to me."

  "Then you will wait a very long time."

  "I know you will never come here again. I'll wait for the day you come to me at Casa del Sol."

  She turned away, not understanding what he meant. She mounted her horse and rode across the river. The Brazos separated their two lands like the emotional gulf that stood between them.

  Would she ever be able to cross it again?

  That night Rachel was haunted by nightmares. She dreamed that she was running toward Noble and he scooped her into his arms. She was kissing him; he was touching her. But then her face turned into Delia's and she moaned in pain.

  "No, no."

  She sat up in bed, her body trembling, feeling empty inside. She pulled up her knees and rested her head on them, wishing her heart would stop pounding. Sudden realization hit her, ripped through her, leaving her stunned. She loved Noble much more than she'd ever hated him. But it was a one-sided love, all on her part. What did he want from her? she wondered. He certainly didn't want her love, or perhaps he did. For some reason known only to him, he probably needed her forgiveness.

  Forgiveness was harder to give than love. A person could choose to forgive, but love was thrust upon one.

  She was not sorry about what had happened between her and Noble. She would take the memory of this night with her into an uncertain future. She would never allow him to touch her again, but she would always have her memories.

  Noble had asked her to trust him. But if she did, she would have to assume that her sister had lied to their father-a lie that had caused his death. That thought was too painful to contemplate.

  One of them was not being truthful. No matter which one had deceived her, the truth would break her heart.

  Rachel gazed up into the robin's-egg-blue sky, hoping to see rain clouds, but there were none looming on the horizon. She removed her leather gloves and tucked them into her belt. Then she undid the top button of her blouse and rolled up the sleeves. It was unusually hot for October.

  She halted her cutting horse, pushed her hat to the back of her head and observed the cattle being run into the corral, branded, and herded out the other side. Today would be the final tally, and fear gripped her heart when she saw that there were so few.

  Tanner rode up beside her, keeping a keen eye on his men. "We got one hundred forty head, Miss Rachel."

  She felt his revelation like a crushing blow. "We lost too many to the drought. I'm going to have to sell off all the rest, Tanner." She unhooked her canteen and took a drink of water and then splashed some on her face. "There isn't enough grass to feed them all, and Zeb tells me he hasn't seen the river this low in thirty years."

  "They won't bring more than three dollars a head." Tanner watched her face as he spoke. "Of course, the Yankee army's giving four dollars a head."

  Rachel raised her head to a stubborn tilt. "I'd rather take a loss than sell to a Yankee." Her gaze was wistful as she glanced toward the men doing the branding. "If only we had a large enough herd to drive them to Kansas City. They're giving forty dollars a head there."

  "It's too dry, Miss Rachel; the cattle would never make it. And with such a small herd, it wouldn't be worth it."

  "I know." She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to draw courage for what she must do. "All right, sell to the Yankees."

  He nodded. "I know it goes against your beliefs, but there's nothing else to do, ma'am."

  "How many cowhands do we have, Tanner?"

  "Seventeen, if you don't count Zeb and me."

  "I'm going to have to let at least ten of them go." There was pain in her eyes. "I don't like it, but I can't pay them, Tanner."

  "You could ask them to take less money, ma'am."

  "That wouldn't be fair to any of them. The thirty dollars a month they get now is little enough to live on."

  "It's my job to tell them, Miss Rachel."

  She nodded, knowing he was better able to judge which men they should keep. "Don't lay off the hands with families to support."

  He nodded, knowing how difficult it was for her to lay off loyal cowhands. "I'll handle it. They understand that ti
mes are hard."

  She watched the last longhorn being branded, her mind on the men she must let go. Of course two or three of them were the usual drifters who only worked during roundups and then moved on afterward-she wouldn't worry about them. But the loyal hands that had been at the Broken Spur in her father's time were another matter. It hurt like hell to send them away.

  She pointed her horse in the direction of the river. When she reached the Brazos, she stared at the dry riverbed without seeing it. Her shoulders slumped and she laid her head against the neck of her horse, allowing the tears she'd been holding back to fall. Her body shook as she cried silently. She cried for the men who had to leave the Broken Spur, she cried for Delia, and she cried because she wanted so badly to see Noble.

  The real fear at the back of her mind was that she would lose the Broken Spur. Her most immediate problem was her taxes. Many of her neighbors blamed the Yankees for inflated taxes, claiming it was the North's way of punishing Texas for its part in the war. Already two ranchers in Madragon County had lost their spreads.

  Who would be next? Rachel wondered sadly. She could see her way of life disappearing. Her gaze swept across this land she loved.

  Texans had withstood much worse: Santa Ana, Goliad, the battle of the Alamo, and the strife of civil war. This enslavement by the Yankees they would withstand as well.

  Thin, tattered clouds hung suspended between earth and sky empty clouds that would soon disappear into nothingness without dropping moisture to heal the tortured land.

  Zeb watched Rachel dismount and walk in the direction of the house, her face furrowed with worry. He handed the reins of her horse to Joe, a tow-headed, freckled ten-year-old who was one of the cowhands' youngest sons. Something was wrong with Rachel. He rushed to catch up with her before her first foot hit the bottom porch step.

  "Weather's turned colder, Miss Rachel," he said, sidling up to her and jamming his hands in his pockets. "I think we're gonna have us a cold winter this year."