To remedy that, Elsie bathed and scrubbed out all the dirt from her hair and body, after which she dotted lavender water on her neck and wrists. She fished out from the back of her closet a blue satin dress with a lace collar that she hadn’t worn in nearly a year. After stroking the brush through her wavy brunette hair a hundred times, she left it down, allowing it to flow around her shoulders instead of confining it in braids or pigtails. When she’d finished gussying up, she studied herself. The mirror hanging on the back of her bedroom door reflected a young woman she hardly recognized. She looked almost pretty, though she made mental note to be more diligent with wearing her Stetson while on the range. Freckles she couldn’t recall having a year ago appeared prominently across her nose. There was no time to concoct a powder that matched her skin color before Wyatt arrived, but it provided her with some comfort to know that the darkness of evening would help to mask the blemishes.
A short time later, a gentle tap alerted her to Wyatt’s presence. She drew a deep breath and walked to the front of the cabin. As she reached out to open the door, she experienced a moment of paralyzing fear and self-doubt. Dining alone with a man wasn’t something she’d ever done before, and she didn’t know quite how to behave, especially since it wasn’t exactly courting they were engaged in. The excuse she’d given was to discuss ranch matters, but he would know right away upon seeing her that she wanted him to think she was beautiful. Without their supper being defined as either business or pleasure, she didn’t have a social script to follow.
The second knock jolted her out of her reverie. Finally, after drawing another deep breath, she opened the door. As soon as she saw his kind smile, she relaxed. He would not mock or think her silly, and judging by the spark of light that flashed through his eyes, he thought she looked pretty in her women’s duds. That was confirmed when he spoke. “You sure look nice, Miss Elsie.”
She smiled shyly back at him as she stepped aside to allow him entrance. “You look nice yourself, Wyatt.”
He’d shined up his boots, given his face a scrape, and put on a clean shirt. She thought he’d looked handsome with a five o’clock shadow and dirty clothes, but cleaning up had given him a more gentlemanly appearance, and she felt even more drawn to him.
Supper consisted of ham and potatoes, simple fare, but Wyatt tucked in with enthusiasm. In between bites, he said, “I’ve never met a lady like you, someone who’s as good at cooking as she is at men’s work.”
She warmed to the compliment. “My ma died when I was very young, so I ended up taking over the household chores—with help from our housekeeper, of course.”
“I’m sorry to hear about your ma,” he said as he sawed into another slice of ham.
“My pa is dead too. I don’t hardly remember my ma, but I was really close to my pa.” Her voice threatened to break, which surprised her. She hadn’t allowed herself to cry about her father’s absence in some time.
He must have heard the sadness in her voice, for he set down his knife and fork, reached out, and squeezed her hand briefly before letting it go. “It must be real difficult for you, running this ranch without your pa.”
She nodded and looked down at her hand that he had touched. His warm, calloused fingers still seemed to sizzle on her skin and had caused an inner trembling and longing. His touch had been so tender, and no one had been tender with her since her pa had died. She felt at once vulnerable and strengthened by Wyatt’s attention toward her.
After supper, they sat together in her sitting room and talked about their shared interest of ranching. Wyatt smoked a pipe, while she drank tea.
“My pa smoked,” she told him. “I still have a tin of tobacco if you’d like to take it back to the bunkhouse. I’ll never use it.”
“Thank you, Miss Elsie.” He smiled at her, but she noticed there was sorrow in his smile. She wondered if she’d said something to make him feel down, or if he was sad on her behalf over her losing her pa.
She set her tea aside, stood, and walked to the fireplace, where she picked up the tin on the mantle. When she held it out and he took it, his hand brushed against hers, causing a sudden bolt of desire to lick through her belly. Elsie studied him to see if he perhaps felt it too, but it didn’t appear so. His expression remained the same.
The sorrowful look on his face continued to appear every so often during their conversation. Just when she thought he was enjoying his time with her, he would suddenly pull away and stare mournfully into space.
After one such pause, she decided to address his injury. Perhaps that’s what troubled him and he would be happier without the burden of pain his injury caused. “Wyatt,” she said cautiously. “I want to ask you something, and I hope you’ll forgive me for being so bold.”
The sadness left his eyes. They became bright with attention and focused on her. “What do you want to ask me, Miss Elsie?”
She looked down and removed an invisible bit of lint from the skirt of her dress before she met his gaze again. “The thing is, I’ve noticed that your right arm is injured, and I’m wondering if you might let me take a look at it without your shirt on.” Her cheeks grew warm at the thought of him half-dressed. “I have some experience fixing up injuries common to ranch hands,” she added quickly.
He groaned and tilted his head back, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. “It’s that obvious, huh?”
“Plain as day,” she said, smiling gently. “If I hadn’t been working alongside you, I might not have figured it out, but then I would have noticed it was taking you a long time to finish your carpentry tasks. How did you injure it?”
He shrugged his left shoulder. “I reckon it was from overuse. One day I was out swinging a lasso and heard my arm crack like a whip and then I felt a terrible pain. I’ve barely been able to move it since.”
“Did you see a doctor?”
He shook his head. “Nah, I thought after some time it would heal on its own, but it’s only gotten worse.”
She stood and walked to where he sat. His eyes followed her and didn’t leave her face. He set his pipe on the table next to him as she reached out and lightly touched his shoulder. “May I see it?” she whispered.
In answer to her question, he unbuttoned his shirt with one hand, starting at the collar. She swallowed hard as his muscled chest came into view, covered in a thin layer of dark hair. When he unbuttoned the last of the buttons, she took hold of either side of the shirt and carefully helped him remove it from his body with as little movement as possible to his right arm.
She looked into his eyes and saw that he was still studying her intently. Her breath hitched. The way he looked at her made her feel very aware of her body so close to his, and she found herself wanting to draw even closer.
She placed both of her hands on his injured bare shoulder and gently pressed against a spot. “Does that hurt?”
“No, ma’am,” he said, his voice low and gravelly.
She continued to feel around his shoulder. “Tell me when it hurts.”
After two more presses, he grunted. “That hurt right there.”
She smiled with satisfaction. “You have a partially dislocated shoulder. It’s called a sublux.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You’re smiling like that’s a good thing.”
She nodded. “It is. If you had fully dislocated it, you probably would have noticed it looking very strange and gone straight to a doctor, who would have popped it back in place. Because it’s only partial, it’s not visible, so you didn’t think it needed attention. But I can relocate it. It’ll heal and then you won’t have any more pain.”
“You’re joshin’ me,” he said, his eyes widening with surprise and a glimmer of hope.
She shook her head. “I’m not. I can fix it up right now, but it’ll hurt when I do.”
He waved his permission with his left hand. “Go right on ahead. You owe me a little pain after what I gave you yesterday.”
She felt her face and ears heating with embarrassment. It was the first ti
me he’d made any mention of the spanking.
He noticed the change in her demeanor and the redness in her face. “None of that,” he said firmly. “I told you not to be embarrassed, didn’t I?”
“Yes,” she agreed softly, the sound of his insistent voice compelling her to quell her embarrassment. She blinked at him a few times before she focused her mind on the task. She settled her hands on his warm skin, placing one in front of his shoulder and one on his back to brace the shove. “On three,” she said.
He gave her a nod and looked away, preparing himself for the pain that would come.
“One, two—” With a strong push, she shoved the ball back into its socket before she got to three, knowing it would help for the pain to begin before he thought it would.
He let out a grunt that became a long moan. Because his arm had been positioned incorrectly for some time, Elsie knew she’d just caused him an incredible amount of pain. She hastily pressed her fingers against all areas of his shoulder, determining that the joint was in place.
He was clenching his jaw with his eyes shut tight, the waves of pain still radiating through his body. He would be sore for some time, but the severity of pain would lessen in a few minutes.
She left the room and returned with a bottle of whiskey, which she handed to him, an herb poultice, and a sling. Carefully she wrapped the white cotton around his neck and down to his forearm, which she cradled into a stationary position.
“Land’s sake!” he exclaimed when he caught his breath. “That hurt like the devil. I ain’t never cursed in front of a lady, but I almost did just then.”
“I wouldn’t have minded,” she assured him. “I’m with my ranch hands all day on the range, and I’ve heard some gritty language coming from them when they didn’t realize I was within earshot.”
He smiled at her with warmth and appreciation in his eyes. “Thank you, Elsie. You’re terribly kind.”
She nodded and applied the comfrey herb poultice to his shoulder. “This here is knitbone,” she explained. “It’ll help with the swelling. Your shoulder will heal properly now, but you shouldn’t move your arm hardly at all for a month or so.” She sat on a stool a short distance away from him and tried not to stare at his bare chest.
The smile left his face. He frowned at her. “A month?”
“Or longer,” she confirmed. “Don’t worry, you can still board at the bunkhouse even though you won’t be working.”
The sad expression that he’d worn several times throughout their evening together came to his face once again. He shook his head. His voice sounded both mournful and exasperated when he spoke. “You this nice to everyone, Elsie?”
She shrugged. “I would want any of my hands to recover fully from an injury before working again. That’s what my pa would have wanted too.”
He rubbed his hand along his jaw. “Not used to this kind of treatment, I must admit. My last boss fired me the minute he found out I was injured and even refused to pay me for the two weeks prior because he said I was no good to him during that time.”
“That’s terrible,” Elsie said, shaking her head. “People can be so cruel, only thinkin’ of themselves.”
“You treat your men well. Keeps them loyal, I bet.”
“Yes, my hands are very loyal. To answer your question, though... No, I’m not this nice to everyone. Not to my enemies.” She scowled. “I wouldn’t lift a finger to help the Xaviers.”
“Why not?” he asked quietly, his eyes suddenly intense and boring into hers.
She laughed bitterly and proceeded to explain what Mark Xavier had done to her and her father. It was impossible to know what Wyatt was thinking as she spoke, for his expression remained blank, but when she finished her story, he said, “That’s a terrible shame. I’m sorry to hear you and your pa went through that.”
His sympathy caused tears to spring to her eyes. She looked away and tried to compose herself.
Wyatt took a final swig of whiskey. “I should go. It’s getting late.”
She felt disappointed. She didn’t want him to leave, but it was only proper. It was dark but for the coal oil lamp flickering with a low flame by the window, and she could hear crickets chirping insistently outside.
“I’ll help you put on your shirt,” she said, rising to her feet and moving toward him. She stood between his spread knees and reached behind him with an arm on either side of his neck. They were so close to each other that Elsie could feel the heat from his breath on the exposed part of her upper chest. Her breasts were positioned near his face and nearly touched him as she reached over to position the arm of the shirt so that he could slide his left hand into it.
She was aware of his breathing becoming more labored against her skin, which prickled and pulsed with desire as she drew in his scent, a mixture of soap, whiskey, and leather. She lightly covered his injured shoulder with the empty shirtsleeve, keeping his arm in the sling. She didn’t bother buttoning him up.
In a sudden burst of courage and lust, she ran her hand down his bare chest, feeling the wiry hair and soft flesh over his hard ridges.
“Elsie…” he said, his voice low, his tone a warning.
She gazed into his glimmering eyes. She’d never been with a man, but instinct directed her movements. She felt like the most desirable woman in the world, standing there in front of him, having him look at her in that way, and she yearned for him to touch her.
He wrapped his good arm around her waist and pulled her to a seated position on his left leg. His arm still firmly encircling her, he said quietly in a deep voice, “You’re playing with fire, young lady.”
She clenched her legs together and shivered, the chiding having sparked her arousal. “Please, Wyatt…”
“Please what?”
She let out a whimper, a small sound that indicated how vulnerable she was to her onslaught of feelings. She didn’t know how to articulate what she wanted, but she didn’t need to. Her needy mewl spurred him into action. Strong fingers trailed up her back, entwined in her hair, and closed into a gentle fist. Gripping her hair at the roots, he turned her head to face him and crushed his lips against hers. She melted into the kiss. The pressure of his mouth caused an outpouring of sensations in her tummy, her breasts, and between her legs – feelings she’d never felt so strongly before. He growled, and the kiss became deeper, more insistent.
His hand left her hair and wrapped around her back, pulling her close to him so that her breasts flattened against his chest. One of her hard, tender nipples scraped against a button on his shirt, causing her back to arch suddenly. She trembled and gasped when his lips left hers and nibbled at her neck.
“Oh…” It was nearly too much for her. Her mind and heart raced, unable to understand what was happening to her body.
She ached to lose her maidenhead, but Wyatt pulled away suddenly. He stood, bringing her to her feet as well, and took two steps back.
“I’m sorry,” he said, breathing hard. “Forgive me.”
“Don’t be sorry, Wyatt,” she exclaimed. “I want—” She took a step toward him, but he held out his hand to stop her approach.
“No.”
The word was spoken so firmly and without compromise that it caused Elsie to feel a sharp pang of rejection. Humiliated, she bit her lip and struggled not to allow tears to make an appearance.
“It’s not that I don’t want to, Elsie,” Wyatt said quickly. “Please don’t cry.”
“I don’t understand,” she said, feeling her lower lip trembling and her eyes filling with tears.
“It’s just… I would be taking advantage of you.”
“No, you wouldn’t. Not if I want it too. Do you not find me attractive?” She suddenly felt sick to her stomach. How desperate she sounded, begging for his affection!
“I do find you attractive. And I would like nothing more than to continue what we were doing, but it wouldn’t be right.”
She didn’t believe him. She was a fool, donning her prettiest dress, inviti
ng him to dinner, even asking him to spank her! Clearly, he was turned off by her forwardness, which she knew to be unbecoming of a lady. She’d been spending too much time around men, assuming their way of behaving. That, combined with her lack of experience courting, had caused her to do everything wrong.
She shook her head and blinked at the ground, wishing she could be anywhere but there. Struggling to keep her voice from wavering, she said, “It’s all right, Wyatt. I know I have been very forward.”
An awful silence filled the room. She couldn’t even look at him and wished that he would leave so she could nurse her hurt pride in solitude. She could feel his gaze on her, and the longer he stayed silent, the more humiliated she felt.
He walked to her suddenly, grabbed her wrist, and pressed her hand against the front of his trousers. “Feel that?” he growled. “That’s how much I want you. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. So don’t you dare think otherwise.”
She gasped and stared at him with wide eyes. His cock was rock hard. She knew a man became hard when he was filled with desire, so her earlier fear of him not finding her attractive faded, leaving total confusion in its wake.
“Now do you believe I want you?” he asked through clenched teeth. He seemed almost angry, but it was more intense than anger.
“Yes, I believe you,” she whispered, searching his face for the reason he’d rejected her. But it provided her with no clues.
“Good.” He released her wrist and strode to the front door, where he grabbed his hat hanging over a hook and clapped it on his head. “Forgive me, Elsie.” Without waiting for her to respond, he walked out and slammed the door behind him.
Chapter Six
Elsie was deeply confused about her evening with Wyatt and his words and actions, but one thing was for certain. She wouldn’t ever be so forward with him again. She couldn’t bear the rejection a second time, no matter the reason, so she tried to force away thoughts of her attraction toward him, reminding herself that a potentially good husband was on his way from New York to meet her. She reread Mr. Latham’s letter often, finding hope and comfort in his words whenever she felt lost and afraid.
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