"I hope you remember who is supposed to clean up after this puppy." Lissa fanned herself with her bonnet, stirring the humid afternoon air only a bit.
"Me!" Chad announced. "I gotta feed him and clean him, and teach him where to do his business."
Jack's amused gaze met hers. "That's right, partner. If you want to have your own horse one day, you have to know how to take care of an animal. And your own dog is a good place to start."
As Chad talked excitedly, Lissa wished she could tell Jack just how much he meant to her. He'd kept yet another promise to her son, another vow to her—that he would love Chad as his own. Her heart squeezed with gratitude, and something more, something greater.
The Johanson homestead came into sight, a tidy log cabin and neat, flower-filled yard. The front door swung open, and Hans stepped out with a ready smile.
It was Jack that Lissa saw. The way he set the brake, swung down from the wagon, greeting Hans with a quick, firm handshake. He moved with strong, masculine grace, with that steel body she had touched last night, felt like no other. When he offered her his hand, palm up, his lopsided grin was only for her.
Heat struck as fast and as electrifying as lightning when she laid her hand on his. Her feet touched the ground, but her body felt changed just from being close to him.
As if he felt it too, he brushed a whisper of a kiss against her cheek. "I'll get a good price for your calves."
His words made her spine shiver. He handed her the covered tin plate, and the scent of cinnamon tainted the air between them. His nearness dazzled her. The strength and breadth of him made her weak.
"Lissa!" Sophie burst out of the cabin, a bundle of wiggling baby in her arms. "Come see how Evan has grown. And are those some of your cinnamon rolls?"
"Enjoy." Lissa left Jack's side, feeling bereft even though she adored Sophie. "Let me see that boy of yours. He's so beautiful."
A round face stared up at her, eyes dark and wise. Sophie beamed, full of pride, and when she spoke her words came low and sincere. "When he was born and we almost lost him, I'll never forget the things you did for me."
"I just washed a bit of laundry and cooked a few meals." Lissa resisted the urge to brush her fingers across the baby's tiny pink knuckles. "It was the least I could do. Look how you helped me last winter."
Sophie's hand came to rest on Lissa's wrist. "Like winter into spring, sadness fades, too. Look at that new husband of yours. And now maybe you can have another baby."
Hope. It was a scary thing. "A baby would be nice."
She thought of last night. Jack's tender, teasing touches, the patient, urgent way he'd joined with her. Her heart skipped, remembering. Even now, his gaze met hers and she recognized a glimmer of wanting in his eyes.
"We're goin' to get the puppy now, Mama." Chad grabbed hold of her skirt. "Pa's gonna help me pick out the best one."
"I'm sure he will."
Jack stole her breath as he strode close, his gaze bold on hers, wise with the passion they'd shared.
"Hurry, Mama!" Chad took off toward the barn, where Hans waited by the open doors. A dog barked, and six little dun colored puppies came running, all awkward feet and floppy ears.
Chad was already kneeling on the ground, where the first puppy jumped up with eager front paws, tongue out. After a few wet kisses, he had fallen in love.
Jack looked up at her, and she read the happiness there, felt the new binding connection they'd forged last night in the dark.
"Bedtime, partner." Jack caught the puppy just before she dug her little teeth into his boot.
"Puddles is gonna sleep with me." Chad rushed up to wrap his arms around his new companion. The hound washed his face with her tongue.
Chad laughed, and the happiness in the room arrowed straight to Jack's heart. The wind and what lay beyond might have beckoned him today, called to a part of him he couldn't remember, but he was content here. His gaze fastened on Lissa, seated at the kitchen table, bent over the account books, very content.
The puppy snuggled into the covers right alongside Chad. With the lamp turned low, Jack cracked open The Adventures of Tom Sawyer and began to read. Chad's small arms wrapped hard around Puddles's middle.
As Chad's eyelids flickered shut—he was exhausted by his exciting day—Jack wondered about his own son, lost to him now, wondered if he had read to the boy and helped him pick out a dog.
Sadness crept through his heart. When he shut the book Chad didn't stir, and neither did the puppy. He turned out the lamp and headed from the room.
Seeing Lissa admiring Sophie Johanson's baby today made him think about his lost past, think about their future. She still sat at the table, with only a single lamp burning low, frowning at the account books. He liked that about her, that she was independent and smart.
He set his hand on her shoulder, felt the warm womanly strength of her.
"Did the puppy settle in all right?" She looked up at him, golden curls tumbling over her shoulders, burnished by the lamplight.
"Tucked tight in Chad's arms."
Her eyes twinkled. "I hope she remembers her house training."
"Probably not. Chad named her Puddles for a reason."
He liked it when she laughed. A brightness washed over her, made her sparkle. "It's awfully late to be working."
"Just worrying over our stolen cattle."
"I thought we were going to worry together." He reached over her shoulder and closed the account book with a snap. "It's too late at night for worry."
"You're right." She sighed, a tired sound, and pushed back the chair.
He turned her toward him. His lips settled over her open mouth and her note of surprise. One hot kiss and she melted against him, all warm woman and need. Her arms twined around his neck, and he caught her fanny with both hands, pulling her firm against him. He was already hard, aching for the intimate feel of her. She pressed boldly against him, her needs unmistakable.
Her kisses were hot and moist, so easy to become lost in. His fingers caught the first button at her throat, hidden beneath a spray of lace. Fabric parted to reveal creamy skin, brushed by light. Last night he had made love to her in the dark, and the thought of seeing her drove fire through his veins.
"What about Chad?" she whispered in his ear.
"He's sound asleep behind a closed door." Jack tugged free more buttons, his eyes never wavering from the soft curves of her cleavage.
"Wait." She pressed a kiss to the base of his throat, then moved away before he could grab her. She leaned over the table and turned down the wick. Flame died, leaving only darkness.
Fabric rustled, then her fingers caught his. She laid his hands on her bare breasts, and his disappointment faded. She felt like heated satin beneath his hands, tasted like spice against his tongue. With blood thundering through his veins, he laid her back on the table. Pressed kisses to her rib cage and stomach. Pulled away her skirts and untied the waistband of her drawers.
When he touched her, she moaned. Need surged through the deepest parts of him. She was hot and wet and swollen, ready for him, as he was ready for her. He unfastened his trousers, leaving them to fall at his ankles. So hard and hot that he ached, Jack splayed both hands against the outer curves of her thighs.
She parted for him, all soft satin and need, all angel and woman and passion. She accepted him inside her with a low, sweet groan, urged him deeper with hands that tugged at his forearms, then pulled frantically at his hips. He drove deeper, teeth gritted against that bright sharp release already beckoning. He felt her resistance, felt the pulsing tightness of those muscles gloving him.
As he set a rhythm, they moved without words, with only mingled breaths and frantic moans and mating kisses of lips and tongues. She came quick and hard, crying and arching, and boldly holding him deeply inside her. She carried him over the edge into oblivion so sweet there was only her and the hot wet pulse of his release.
"It's thundering." Her voice rippled through him.
"That'
s just my heart," he teased, earning her smile. He kissed that smile, just to taste the soft texture of it, only a shadow in the darkness.
Another boom rattled the windowpanes. "That really is thunder, Jack."
"I know. But if there's a storm out there, then I have to leave you." He brushed the beautiful curve of her face. "I don't want to leave you."
"I don't want you to go." She tilted her hips, and he shivered. Then lightning flashed. Images of her tousled hair tangled around her face, the creamy white rise of her breasts, the curve of her smile appeared and then faded, lingering only in his memory.
A bold peal of thunder shattered the silence.
"I guess I can't ignore that." He thought of the hundreds of cattle he was responsible for, and the shaky fencing that had been ransacked by the rustlers, barely patched. Another flash lit the darkness.
"You have to go." Her voice weighed heavy with regret. He liked hearing that—liked knowing she didn't want him to withdraw, to pull away from this closeness they shared— but he did.
His skin felt cold in the places her body had warmed him. He grabbed her clothes first, handing them to her as she dressed. She moved quickly, all shadowed grace and whispered movements. He pulled on his clothes. Lightning flashed, thunder crackled, calling.
"Take care."
Her words followed him out into the night, into a world driven by wind and storm. His heart ached because despite their physical intimacy they were still so distant; they were lovers without being in love.
Chapter Ten
"There's Pa!" Chad bounced on the wagon seat, his hat brim blowing up in the breeze, all little boy energy and heart. "Ain't he grand?"
"He sure is." Lissa's chest filled with satisfaction. She could not look away from the arresting sight of her husband at work—shirtless, mile-wide shoulders bared to the sun, hammer in hand.
He nailed a split rail into place with two sure, powerful blows of the hammer, then straightened. Sun glistened along the tanned ridges of his back. He rubbed his brow with his forearm, scanning the horizon. When he spotted them, he lifted one strong hand in greeting.
"We brought dinner." Lissa reined in the Clydesdale. The wagon rattled to a stop. Before she could set the brake, Chad flung himself into Jack's ready arms.
"Howdy, partner." Jack's deep voice rumbled with laughter as he swung their son to the ground. Then his gaze swept up to meet hers, and she saw his happiness at seeing her again. "A lovely lady delivering a lovely meal. A man can't ask for anything more."
She handed him the first basket. "Nothing more?"
His blue gaze crackled. "Only one thing."
She blushed, remembering the nights spent in his arms, joined to him, lost in the pleasure he so easily gave her. "Nothing that we can do in front of the ranch hands," she whispered, earning his laughter.
"There's always the bushes." He winked, accepting a second basket.
The four new hands gathered round, offering appreciation for the meal of fried chicken, biscuits, and apple tarts. She poured cups of cool apple cider and ginger water for the men.
When they were settled down to eat, she fixed herself a plate and joined Jack and Chad. They had chosen a spot away from the hired hands and near a clump of sweet-smelling clover.
"Puddles didn't like me leavin'. Not one bit." Chad leaned close to Jack, sitting with his knee cocked just like his new pa. "She cried and cried when she saw me up in the wagon. Didn't she, Mama?"
"She sure did."
Her son looked older, more confident and cocky as he looked up at Jack, imitating his every move. Chad was growing up. He was no longer her baby, but a boy who would have his own dreams one day—thanks to his new pa, thanks to Jack. Lissa's chest ached.
"Lissa." He spoke in warning. His hand shot to the holstered gun at his hip. "Take the boy and climb into the wagon. Quick."
The rustlers? Lissa wasn't used to following orders, but at the sound of alarm low as thunder in Jack's words, she didn't argue. Jack swept Chad into her arms, and stood protectively between her and the sun.
The bunchgrass clutched at her skirts as she turned. She expected to hear galloping horses and the pop of gunfire. She wished she had more on hand to defend her child with than an empty picnic basket.
Then she saw a brown streak charging toward them. The quicksilver fear faded. Why, there were no dangerous rustlers, no threats at all—only Pete, her bull.
Lissa watched as her husband faced the running animal, tension tightening up his magnificent form. And she realized then that Jack thought the horned bull was attacking.
"Jack, no!" Her words were snatched away by the wind. She swung Chad to the ground as Jack waved his arms over his head, shouting at the animal, trying to divert it from its collision path with her.
Her skirts caught around her ankles as she ran. Desperate, Jack drew the polished gun from its holster. Horror rushed through her as he pulled back the hammer.
"No." She caught his arm, startling him. The gigantic bull ground to a stop before them, front legs braced, kicking up rocks and grass and bits of earth. "He's tame."
"I thought he was charging you and the boy." Jack released a shaky breath. "Most bulls are dangerous."
"Depends on how they're raised." She held out her hand, and Pete nudged it with his big wet nose. His pink tongue shot out and lapped her palm with wide-eyed affection. The gentleness of his touch warmed her, as always. Animals were so easy to care for. Give them kindness and affection, and they returned it. It was that simple.
People, they were different. They became part of a woman's heart, a part of her life.
"I'm sorry. I should have introduced you and Pete earlier."
"Good thing I didn't shoot." A muscle in Jack's jaw jumped. Tension tightened the unyielding line of his shoulders.
"You're angry."
"No," he said, but he sounded angry. "I was afraid for you and Chad. I'm sworn to protect you, Lissa. I thought you were in danger."
Her heart stopped, leaving her chest feeling empty and hollow. Then his hand closed over hers. She could feel his heat, tangible from a hard morning's work in the fields. She could smell the wood and grass scent of him, see a new scratch from a briar at his chin and the concern fading from his gaze. But more, she felt his need for her, bright as the sun, big as the sky.
"I will always protect you." His words came rushed, breathless, but the solid presence of him felt as unruffled as the greatest of mountains.
She heard for the first time, too, what he meant, what he couldn't say. He was afraid of losing her, too. His past might be a void to him, but the heart, it remembered. It did not forget a loss that great—or want to feel such pain again.
"Howdy, Pete!" Chad charged out of the tall grass, his cowboy hat poking up among seed-heavy tips. Pete, the big brown bull, lowered his head and stuck out his tongue to swipe the boy's face. Jack tensed, ready to defend the child should the big animal try to harm him.
Lissa laid her hand on Jack's sun-warmed forearm, the texture of male skin and the light dusting of hair wondrous against her fingertips. She took pride in this man of steel and might.
"Mama and me raised Pete from a baby." Chad giggled as the big brown bull nibbled the brim of his cowboy hat. "His mama died, so we gave him milk from a bottle until he got lots bigger. Then he ate grain and hay from my fingers."
Pete jerked up his head. Lissa laughed. "You big baby. Yes, I brought you some grain." She headed toward the wagon's tailgate, Pete following her.
With every step she felt Jack's steady gaze. He came, too, watching the big animal that was taller at the shoulder than the sideboards of the wagon as he twitched his tail at a pesky fly.
Jack didn't trust easily. He kept careful watch, stood silent sentry as she grabbed the tin pail, the bottom heavy with bright yellow corn and dried oats. He stepped closer as she held the pail while Pete lapped up the treat with his big, broad tongue.
Chad dashed up. The gentle bull laid his forehead against the boy's ches
t and sighed.
"She raises the best breeding bulls this side of Billings," Will said as he shouldered up to the tailgate for another helping of chicken. "There isn't a rancher in this county who isn't clamoring to buy this fellow right here. The rustlers have tried twice, but couldn't drive him from home."
"I train my bulls to come at the sound or sight of a bucket." Lissa set the empty pail and reached to pour Will another cup of cider. "The rustlers don't seem to know that."
"I hope they never do." Jack laid the flat of his palm on the sun-warmed neck of the gigantic bull. Pete turned his head to scent him, then swiped Jack's hand with his tongue. Jack smiled, and her whole heart warmed.
For the first time in a very long while, all was right in her world.
Jack took one last look at his wife. She stood in the open doorway, looking out at the night and listening to the sounds of the storm. Just rain and wind tonight, no threat of lightning yet.
Still, it was a good night for the rustlers to strike—if they dared.
No lamplight shone to illuminate her. Shades of darkness layered her like cloth. Jack found himself moving toward her. She was quickly becoming his center, his northern star.
"The rain feels good." Her voice rang with contentment, with familiarity, although she didn't turn around.
"It's good for the range land." The rain meant less chance of wildfires later in the summer. Jack settled his hand on Lissa's waist She leaned into his touch, leaned into his kiss, until she was tucked against his chest and moaning beneath the assault of his tongue. "What about the men?"
"McLeod is keeping watch over the cattle until midnight. Arcada is on the other side of the field."
The men guarding this land could be counted on. Jack cupped his hand at the back of Lissa's head and wound his fingers through the silken luxury of her hair. "We are alone for now. For as long as we want."
Rain tapped on the porch roof overhead, dripped off the eaves, drummed against the earth, fell like a curtain of silvery black around them. They were truly alone. Jack caught hold of her collar, released the top button hidden beneath a fluff of lace.
Jillian Hart Page 11