Educating Abbie: Titled Texans -- Book Two

by Cynthia Sterling

  He heard her gasp, and brought his hand down to stroke the nub of flesh within her nest of curls. At his touch she moaned, and he felt her tighten around his shaft. With a sigh of pleasure, he began to move in and out, long, smooth strokes leading to deeper, faster ones. Abbie writhed and moaned beneath him, her cries driving him to a fever pitch. When it seemed he could hold back no longer, she cried out in delight, her body bucking beneath him. He plunged deeper, and found his own release, an explosion of sensation both satisfying and sweet in its intensity.

  He collapsed against her, heart pounding, a smile on his face he felt he might never erase.

  “I say – is everything all right in there? You haven’t been kicked by a horse or something, have you?”

  The sound of Cam’s voice, just outside the barn door, made them sit bolt upright. Their eyes met, alarmed. As Reg watched, a deep blush washed over Abbie’s face. “It’s all right,” he soothed, wanting to draw her close once more, but knowing he could not. Cursing his brother soundly, he withdrew and rose to his feet, reaching for his trousers. “I’ll distract him while you dress,” He shook his head, no longer able to meet her eyes. “I don’t know what I was thinking,” he said. “A stall, in the hay –”

  “It’s all right, Reg.” She rose and touched his face, turning his head until their eyes met once more. He swallowed hard, overwhelmed by the depth of emotion in her eyes. “It was wonderful,” she whispered.

  Her smile made him want to cast aside his clothing and pull her to him once more. Only the thought of Cam, and perhaps Alan and Maura as well, finding them in such a compromising position, stopped him. “You deserve better,” he said.

  Still smiling, she looked around her. “I don’t know. It seems appropriate somehow. I’ve probably spent more time in my life around horses than people.”

  He jerked on his shirt and began fastening the buttons. He wanted to say more – to tell her how beautiful she was right now, how wonderful she made him feel. But wouldn’t words make things worse? What had happened tonight didn’t change the fact that he was going to have to leave her.

  “Take your time coming out,” he said as he pulled on his boots. “I’ll handle Cam.”

  He found his brother leaning against the barn door. “I say, I was debating whether I should come in after you,” Cam said.

  “What are you doing out here?” Reg scowled.

  “I started to walk back up to the house, but when you and Abbie didn’t follow immediately, I thought perhaps it wouldn’t look entirely proper to leave you two alone. So I took a stroll around the grounds, intending to meet up with you and return to the house together. I didn’t realize you would be so long. What have you been up to in there, brother dear?” He leaned forward and plucked a piece of hay from Reg’s lapel.

  Reg was grateful for the darkness to hide the flush of embarrassment that swept over him. He had little doubt Cam, a rake of some renown before taking up the clerical collar, would have no trouble imagining what had taken place inside that dimly lit barn. He grabbed his brother by the shoulder. “One word – one whisper – of anything to hurt Abbie or her reputation and I swear you’ll pay in blood,” he growled.

  Cam frowned. “If Abbie ends up hurt, it won’t be any fault of mine.” He stepped back and straightened his coat. “Could you say the same about yourself?”

  “What are you two doing scowling at each other?” Abbie walked briskly up to them. Reg’s heart hammered in his chest as his gaze swept over her. Somehow she’d managed to put every pin in place. She looked as neat and lovely as she had at the beginning of the evening. As if nothing at all had happened.

  “Let’s get back to the house,” she said, leading the way. “Maura and Alan must be wondering what’s become of us.”

  Maura and Alan appeared oblivious to the passage of time, or anything else except one another’s presence. They sat in the exact same position on the swing as when Reg had left them. But a brightness in Maura’s eyes and a heightened flush to Alan’s face hinted that perhaps that had used their time alone for more than talk of ranching and town gossip.

  Reg glanced at Abbie. Here in the light, her lips looked swollen from his kisses. Her smile seemed brighter than before, forced even. Had she already come to regret the rashness of their actions?

  He would have to find an opportunity to talk with her soon – to make sure she understood that, though what they had shared was wonderful and special, it did not release him from his obligation to return to England. She’d be more than miserable if she tried to come with him. They would have to look on tonight as a special memory, to be treasured forever.

  But how was he going to talk to Abbie without spending more time alone with her? He no longer trusted himself to remain a gentleman in her presence. Having once sampled the joy she had to share, he wasn’t sure he cared to try. Duty and honor would only take a man so far in the battle against the charms of a determined and uninhibited lover like Abbie.

  * * * *

  Somehow, Abbie managed to get through the rest of the evening, though every part of her being was attuned to Reg’s presence so close to her, as if in joining their bodies they had united part of their spirits as well. She hadn’t expected that, this sense of a spiritual connection, to match the physical bond they’d shared.

  Her body was still warm from his touch; she felt almost as if she glowed, as if everyone could see and know what they had done. She wondered if Cam knew. More than once she caught him watching her, a contemplative look on his face. She shrugged off her embarrassment. She wasn’t going to be ashamed of what had happened with Reg. No matter what the future brought, she had tonight to treasure forever.

  She served coffee to her guests, then stood on the porch and waved as they departed, Reg riding away with his brother. He gave her a last look that might have been mistaken for an apology. Abbie nodded to him, as if to signal she understood. Despite wishing otherwise, she knew tonight had not changed what the future held for them – not really. Reg had set a course for himself and, like a mule who would only drive forward, he wouldn’t turn back for anything or anyone.

  Maura went in to bed, but Abbie stayed out a while longer, gazing at the stars and brooding over the hopelessness of her situation with Reg. “Time changes everything,” her father had always said. Would time ever take away this ache in her heart when she thought of Reg?

  Banjo raised his head and a low growl rumbled in his chest. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end and he stared off into the darkness to Abbie’s left. She caught her breath and tried to make out whatever it was that had alarmed the dog.

  “It’s just me, Abbie. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

  All the breath rushed out of her as Alan moved out of the shadows. “I came back to talk to you,” he said. “Alone.”

  She glanced at the house behind her. A single lamp burned by the front window where she’d left it. “Maura’s already gone to bed,” she said.

  “Good.” He stepped up onto the porch beside her and stood staring at his boots.

  “What is it you wanted to talk to me about?” She kept her voice low, not wanting to wake Maura, and reluctant to disturb the nighttime stillness.

  He shoved his hands in his back pockets. “I have a special favor to ask of you.” He raised his head and looked at her, but she couldn’t read his expression in the dim light. “We’ve been friends a long time now, but lately, I’ve started thinking about you a little differently.”

  “Differently?” A nervous flutter raced through her stomach.

  He shook his head. “I don’t know what it is, but for some reason I’ve just now realized how much of a woman you are. Maybe it’s the dresses you’ve started wearing or something else, but I don’t think of you as one of the fellows anymore.”

  The flutter was practically a storm squall now. What was Alan trying to say? Heavens! He wasn’t going to propose, was he? “Now, Alan, hold on a minute –”

  “Hear me out now, Abbie. I’ve been workin
g up the courage all evening to talk to you. I sure don’t want to have to go through it twice.”

  She swallowed and nodded. For years, she’d dreamed of this moment, longed for it, and now she waited in dread. It was all Reg’s fault, too. He’d set out to teach her how to win Alan’s love, and all he’d really done was teach her that she couldn’t love anyone but Reg himself.

  “Up until now, I’ve been content to live as a single man,” Alan said. He rocked back on his heels. “I always figured I’d marry up when the right woman came along. Then one day, I was standing in your kitchen, and I knew I’d found the woman I’ve been waiting for.”

  She took a step back, until she was pressed up against the porch railing. “Alan, are you saying –?”

  “I’m saying it’s high time I got married. That’s why I’m asking you –”

  Abbie thought she might faint. Her heart pounded as if she’d just run a footrace with a jackrabbit. “Oh, Alan, I’m flattered, I really am. But I think it’s best is you and I remain friends –”

  He frowned, puzzled. “Of course we’ll stay friends. That’s why I thought of you in the first place. I couldn’t ask just anybody, and it had to be a woman.”

  Her panic began to ebb, calmed by a heavy blanket of disappointment. If Alan was going to propose, couldn’t he at least throw in a few declarations of love and undying devotion? Being chosen over ‘just anybody’ wasn’t likely to warm any woman’s heart. “I really don’t think –” she began.

  He reached out and took her hand, clasping it between both of his own. She closed her eyes, preparing herself for the words she was sure would come next. “Abbie, I want you to plead my case to Maura. Convince her to marry me.”

  Her eyes flew open. “Maura?” she managed to croak.

  He dropped her hand. “I’ve been crazy in love with her almost from the moment I laid eyes on her. But she’s used to fancy English gentlemen. I want you to convince her that I’ll be a good husband to her.”

  She pulled her hand from his grasp and smiled up at him. “Alan, you don’t need me to speak for you. I know Maura’s quite fond of you.”

  “She is?” He grinned. “I mean, I thought she might care for me, but I wasn’t sure if she thought enough of me to marry.”

  “I tell you what.” Abbie tucked her arm in his and walked with him across the porch. “You go home and think about what you want to say. Then tomorrow, you come by and take Maura out riding and pop the question.”

  He looked over his shoulder at the silent house. “Maybe we should go wake her up now. . . “

  “No. You are going to do this right and proper. Polish up that buggy of yours, and dress in your Sunday best. Flowers would be nice, too. Maura deserves a romantic afternoon to remember, don’t you think?”

  He nodded. “Thanks, Abbie. I guess I just needed a woman’s point of view to help me get things straight in my head.” He patted her arm, then made his way back across the yard to his waiting horse.

  She watched him ride away. She felt relieved, and a little disappointed, too. She couldn’t even get a man to propose to her so she could turn him down. And the one man she might say yes to – well, she had little hope of changing Reg’s mind.

  “Looks like it’ll be just you and me again, Banjo.” She knelt and put her arms around the dog. If he noticed the tears that fell to dampen his coat, he didn’t seem to mind.

  * * * *

  Reg awoke the next morning to thoughts of Abbie. The lavender scent of her still filled his head. Closing his eyes, he could almost imagine her here beside him, naked and yielding, her skin like satin warming to his touch. . . Blast it, what was he doing? He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He must put all thoughts of Abbie from his mind. Hadn’t his father taught him that duty came before pleasure?

  He dressed quickly, anxious to immerse himself in the list of tasks he’d set himself for the day. Thank God for work to occupy his mind and body.

  He was pulling on his boots when a hard knock sounded on his door. He looked up. “Come in.”

  To his surprise, Donnie Best opened the door. The foreman stood, hat in hand, just inside the door, his expression grim. “What is it?” Reg asked.

  Best shook his head. “It’s bad,” he said. “You’d better come see for yourself.”

  Twenty minutes later, Reg stared out on a scene that turned his stomach. Dead, bloated cattle sprawled around the watering hole. The air buzzed with the whine of flies. He pulled his bandanna over his nose to block out the stench of rotting flesh, but the odor seemed to have permeated his clothing, hanging thick in the air around him. He forced himself to walk the horse closer, to memorize the pitiable scene, as if memory might prevent it from happening again.

  This particular watering hole, or ‘tank’ as the Texans called it, had once covered half an acre, but now it had shrunk to less than twenty feet across. The earth around it was scored with cracks, dried clay curling up like peeling plaster. What water that was left had turned a putrid green.

  “Don’t let your horse drink that water, sir,” Best said.

  “You think the tank was poisoned?” The same thought had occurred to him.

  “Looks that way.” He pointed across the water. “There’s a dead coyote over there. Looks like whatever killed the cattle killed it, too.”

  “Then let’s get the rest of the cattle out of here as quickly as possible.”

  “Yes, sir.” Best rode off to do his bidding.

  “I say, do you suppose this is Tuff Jackson’s doing?”

  Reg looked around and saw Cam’s stallion picking its way among the carcasses. “This doesn’t strike me as an act of idle vandalism,” Reg said. “I’d say Jackson is my first suspect.”

  “So what do you intend to do?” Cam reined in beside him and joined him in staring into the putrid water.

  Reg sighed. “I’ve already ordered the men to move the remaining cattle out of this pasture. This afternoon, we’ll set about dragging the dead cattle into the tank and filling in the whole thing. I’ll also send a sample of the water to the state agricultural agency. Depending on what’s in the water, it may be years before we can graze this pasture again.”

  “No. I meant what are you going to do about Jackson?”

  Reg shrugged. “Seeking revenge on Jackson won’t bring my cattle back or give me water when I need it. I’ll leave him to the sheriff.”

  “What if he goes after you again?”

  “He may have gotten what he wants with this.” Reg swept his hand across the scene in front of them. “He knows I can’t sustain this kind of loss indefinitely. Worse than the cattle, this is one of the last watering holes left to me. Without water, there won’t be a ranch.”

  “You mean you’d have to sell?”

  He nodded. “I can almost hear the Earl now, chiding me for yet another failure. He’ll add it to the list which he delights in reviewing whenever I’m in his presence.”

  “You’ve got him wrong, you know.”

  Reg glanced at his brother. “What do you mean?”

  Cam gave Reg a searching look. “You think he hates you, when actually, you’re his favorite.”

  “Ha!” The idea was absurd. “What have you been drinking, to put that idea into your head?”

  “I speak the truth. Of all of us, you’re the son who resembles him the most – in looks and temperament. You’re a perfectionist, like him, even if you won’t admit it. The both of you are as immovable as rock when you’ve made up your minds on an issue.”

  “Perhaps I represent only those things he detests in himself. Why else does he demand the impossible from me?”

  “Open your eyes. He demands the impossible from all of us.”

  Reg snorted. “I never noticed you suffering.”

  “That’s because you were too caught up in your own battles.” Cam folded his hands atop his saddle horn and stared out toward the horizon. “I had my own crosses to bear – my expectations to meet, and my failures as well.”<
br />
  Cam, failing? The spoiled youngest son – the vicar? “Name one.”

  “The reason I came here – it wasn’t only to do with my patron’s sister. There was a dust-up with group of miners at the Eversole mines. I took the wrong side of an argument they had with Eversole.” He turned hurt-filled eyes on Reg. “You don’t think I wanted to leave home, do you? I was forced to leave, under threat of being defrocked.”

  Reg nodded slowly. “What are you going to do?”

  He let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t know. I enjoyed my brief time as a missionary in Canada. Perhaps I’ll call on the Episcopal Bishop in Houston and see if there’s a circuit available.”

  “You’re wedded to the cleric’s life, then?” He still had a difficult time seeing his lighthearted brother in the role of spiritual guide.

  “I’ve grown up these past few years while you were away.” Cam forced a smile. “Who better to minister to the fallen than one who came so close to falling himself?”

  “Then you really didn’t come here to spy on me?”

  “Father asked me to look in on you. He worries about you.”

  “He has a fine way of showing it.”

  Cam shook his head. “He has a soft spot for you and fears revealing himself. But I can see it in his eyes whenever he speaks of you. Why do you think he keeps calling you home – from the Navy, from India? It’s because he misses you.”

  A shiver ran up Reg’s spine at the words. Could Cam be right? Did the Earl wish for his failure only as a means of keeping him close to home? He shook his head. He’d like to believe such a thing was true, but how could he?

  “Mail call!” A familiar voice sang out to them. He looked up and saw Cooky riding toward them. “You has sho’ nuff got a mess on your hands here,” Cooky said, wrinkling his nose as he reined in beside them.

  “Find Donnie Best and he’ll put you to work helping to clean up,” Reg said.

  Cooky nodded. “Just come from town. Got a couple letters here for you, boss.” He fished in his vest and came up with two envelopes. The first was a buff-colored paper addressed in a firm hand.