Texas Passion
by
Anita Philmar
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Texas Passion
COPYRIGHT Ó 2011 by Anita Philmar
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by Angela Anderson
The Wild Rose Press
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewilderroses.com
Publishing History
First Scarlet Rose Edition, June 2011
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
Texas is my home. It holds my heart, my passion, and all that I hold dear. No matter where I may roam, I cannot deny my heritage and all that I’ve learned from growing up in such a wonderful place.
PRAISE FOR AUTHOR
Anita Philmar
AND HER BOOKS
BANISHED WITCH
“Banished Witch was a great read. I loved the characters and felt for them through the struggles that they were trying to overcome.”
~Tigger9, Night Owl Reviews
BANISHED SCOUNDREL
“When I read the blurb of this book, I knew I had to read it! I am so happy I did. The author is very creative with her characters and plot.”
~Holli, You Gotta Read Reviews
“Two thumbs up to Ms. Philmar for…an intense, adventure-driven story that will…give you goose bumps from the sexual tension emanating between Jack and Kitty, and make you swoon from the sensual vibes of a scoundrel. I…recommend BANISHED SCOUNDREL…and can’t wait for the Danella and Omar’s story.”
~Blackraven Reviews
BANISHED HERO
“BANISHED HERO…is a heartwarming story…When I can fall into a story like I did this one and see it through the characters’ eyes, I find myself captivated and unable to relinquish the story until its ending.”
~Sin, TwoLips Reviews
Texas Passion
West Texas, June 1861
“Daggum-it, Tom. If you don’t tell me where Trent McCall is, no one else will.” Catherine gripped her hands at her sides and fought to control her temper. Tom, her best friend since the age of five, would help, even if the code for men in the west was to cover for each other.
Bare to the waist, Tom Hayes stood in a patch of light from the barn door, rubbing down his bay. The fresh scent of hay and horseflesh pulled her back to her childhood, the open range, riding bareback for hours, and swimming in the watering hole.
Tom shook his head. Golden locks, tied with a thin leather strip, hung down his sweat-slickened back. Beautiful curls any woman would give her eyeteeth to possess. “He’s still on the cattle drive and won’t be back from Kansas for a few more days.”
Catherine shoved auburn strands that escaped the tight knot at the back of her neck from her face. “Right. What you really mean is, Mr. McCall has already planned the end-of-the-trail party and doesn’t want me to know.” Dancing until dawn, drinking until they fell into a mindless stupor, and bedding every available woman, the men on the cattle drive loved celebrating their return home. “So how many whores are they planning to hire?”
Tom lifted the brush and pointed it at her. Thin lines streaming around his blue eyes showed the time he spent working in the sun. “Catherine Turnberry, you best be watching that mouth of yours. Your pa hears you talking like that, and he’ll tan your hide.”
With muscular biceps and broad shoulders, Tom had every girl in the county chasing him during their younger years. Yet, he could have cared less, interested only in riding and hunting at the time.
‘Course, she’d missed the chase his wife had waged. The short trip Catherine had taken to visit her aunt in Boston had turned into a four-year stretch. But unlike the socialites of her aunt’s association, who fell for every rich man’s line of love, Catherine knew what she wanted. And it wasn’t some sweet talking dandy. No, even if her mother had wanted her to stay with her aunt to learn to act like a lady, she planned to marry Trent McCall and become a rancher’s wife in the greatest state in the union.
“Then tell me who he’s hired to work the party. Ms. Lillian? Or Madame Foch?” She stepped forward and caressed the bay’s neck. The smooth hair under her palm calmed Catherine’s nerves. For most of her life, she’d planned to be Trent’s wife. What if he didn’t find her desirable? “I don’t want him to be with another woman only hours before seeing me for the first time in years.”
She didn’t need the comparison.
Tom groaned. “He’s a man, Catherine. He’s bedded lots of women while you’ve been gone.” He dropped the brush in a nearby bucket and studied her face with a probing glare. “You’ve had outings with other men, too, right?”
She nodded. “But I never…”
The words backed up in her throat. She swallowed hard, dipped her head and stroked the bay. How could she tell him she’d known the appeal of the opposite sex, had seen the hunger in men’s eyes while cleaning up after the girls at the burlesque shows? Neither her mama nor her aunt knew about her job as a maid in the theater. They both thought she had attended to the needs of a pampered socialite.
But what other choice did she have? No other job paid as much so she’d lied. Her face burned. No one in Texas knew about her real life back East, especially not her parents. “For God sake, Tom, you know I grew up on my father’s ranch. I understand the basics of sex.” But I’ve never sleep with a man. I only ever wanted Trent.
She ignored the anger, bubbling through her veins at the thought of Trent bedding another woman and jumped ahead. “We’re practically engaged. He shouldn’t be fooling around.”
“Don’t see how you can stop him.” Tom ran his hand across his chest, and a frown marred his brow. “His dad has everything arranged for Thursday night. We’re setting up tables for food and drinks in here. We’re even having a fiddle player so the cowboys and ladies can dance. Ms. Lillian is bringing the girls around nine, and they’re not scheduled to leave until dawn.”
Four days. She scrambled for a plan to keep Trent away from those women. Feeling defeated, Catherine fought the tears burning behind her eyelids. “Do you think it’d help to talk to Ms. Lillian?”
“No.” He grabbed his shirt off a hook and shoved his arm into the sleeves. The ripple affect of his chest muscles sent a tingle of longing through her. Would Trent look as good without a shirt on?
“Ms. Lillian lives more than fifty miles away. There’s no way you can ride across the state without the whole county finding out about it.” Tom stomped past her and grabbed the bay’s reins to lead the horse into a stall.
The pungent odor of manure assaulted her senses. She glanced down and whipped her skirt from the mess on the dirt floor. What could she do? The man deserved to celebrate his safe return from the cattle drive.
“And what exactly would you say to her anyways?” Tom stepped out of the stall and closed the door. The sound rumbled through the large barn. “She won’t listen to you. The McCalls are one of her biggest clients.”
“Fine.” Catherine, struggling for a viable alternative, grabbed his arm. “Then help me arrange for him to meet me somewhere else that night.”
“Cat, the man hasn’t seen you in four years. He won’t want to give up a night of fun with a whore to have tea with you.
” He scanned her blue, silk dress as if she still belonged in Boston. “Your mother would probably faint if she learned you wore such a get-up to parade through the barn.”
She tightened her grip and refused to let Tom step away. “I’m not serving him tea.”
His gaze met hers. She raised an eyebrow and caught the moment he deduced what she planned to offer Trent. “Your father will kill you if he ever finds out, and me along with you if I agree to help.” The slight slump in his shoulders and his grim smile signaled his defeat.
Catherine grinned and released his arm. Tom might be married, but he knew her dream and he wouldn’t let her down. “The hunting cabin out in the back forty should be the perfect place for us to meet.”
Tom stared at her a moment, his expression revealing his need to argue. Then, as if coming to terms with her stubborn determination, he nodded, pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket, and wiped his hands. “And how exactly do you plan to pull this off?”
****
Noise echoed from the barn’s rafters. A fiddler played a lively tune while the men and women squirmed on the dirt dance floor and twisted to a beat that had nothing to do with music. The sweet scent of liquor filled the area. Trent licked his lips and spotted a few men passed out in the corners.
Not particularly in the mood to party, Trent eyed the half-dozen women in the barn. One sat, bouncing on a cowboy’s lap. Against the far wall, another woman took Lester’s hurried thrusts. The ecstasy on her face ignited an ache in his groin. He shifted his gaze to the whores on the dance floor and located a busty blonde by the buffet table holding court with two half-drunk wranglers.
He closed the barn door and proceeded to the beer barrel. Maybe a drink would dim the conversation he’d just had with his father. He picked up a glass. How could his dad expect him to marry a girl he hadn’t seen in years?
“Hey, Trent, it looks like you got to the party a little late. Good thing, Ms. Lillian saved a special girl just for you.” Tom White, the ranch’s foreman, stood alone against a nearby stall.
“What? Isn’t this the selection for the evening?” Trent scanned the half-clad women. Had his father set up a private session in the hope of softening his resistance toward the idea of marriage? “Where’s she hiding?”
“Said you’d find her at your old hunting cabin.” Tom tipped back his glass, drained it, and slammed the empty on the table. “As for me, I’m heading home to my wife. These boys don’t look like they’ll last much longer.”
Trent studied the motley group. “You’re right. Not much point of hanging around here if there’s a woman waiting for me somewhere else.” He turned and strolled out of the barn. After the weeks he’d spent in the saddle, he could use a different kind of ride. One that included pounding into a hot pussy and releasing the frustration pooling in his loins.
Tom followed him outside. “I saddled your horse and tied it over here by mine.”
Trent’s favorite stallion waited next to Tom’s bay. Why hadn’t he noticed his horse when he’d entered the barn?
“Thanks, Tom.” He walked to the black horse and untied the reins from the hitching post. A cooling breeze brushed across his face and some of his earlier anger with his father’s ultimatum faded. “I bet the girl waiting on me is already asleep.”
Tom strolled to the bay. “Can’t say. My wife always seems to be awake no matter what time I make it home. Women just like knowing where their men are.”
The slight stoop of his foreman’s shoulders and his reluctance to leave seemed at odds with his words. What’s the burr under his saddle?
Then Tom swayed on his feet and mounted his horse.
Must be drunk.
Trent put his foot in the stirrup, slung a leg over the stallion’s rear, and landed in the saddle. “Well, I better get moving. I’ve already wasted half the night, and I still have a twenty-minute ride in front of me.” Trent waved and guided the stallion down the trail leading from the house.
Luckily, the moon, glowing on the horizon lit the path and made the trip easier than some of the black nights he’d endured on the cattle drive. Images of women flashed in his head. He settled on a brunette with full breasts and creamy white skin. Need tightened his balls, and he shifted in the saddle to ease the pressure, then kicked his mount and the soft canter turned into a gallop on the dirt path. Dark shadows lurked over the landscape. A sorrowful yelp echoed across the plains, and he scanned the area for coyotes. Why couldn’t the varmints find another place to feed?
And why—damn it—did his father arrange for him to take a wife without consulting him first?
He had no desire to join the war between the North and the South, but that didn’t mean he needed to get hitched to avoid serving. Lots of men had decided to continue with their lives and not become involved in the skirmish.
Catherine Turnberry was the daughter of their closest neighbor, and as a child she’d been trying at best. Wild brown hair streaming around her face, gangly arms and legs, she’d be lucky to…another vision replaced the first. The day he’d come across Catherine riding across his family’s land. A broad smile across her face, she’d worn pants and looked like a boy. Yet the moment he’d flagged her down, he noticed the open neckline of her blouse and the gentle curve of her breasts.
She’d swung off her horse and landed right in front of him. “This better be good, Mr. McCall, because I’m already late.”
Her sassy manner had ignited his interest. Was she still such a rebel to question a man twice her size? He glanced ahead and directed his horse across a small creek. With the cabin in sight, he licked his lips in anticipation. Maybe the pleasure of bedding a woman would lighten the load of facing a wedding.
Tonight, he could enjoy himself—no Catherine, no marriage, just a long night of rowdy fucking.
****
“It’s too hot for a fire.” Catherine groaned at the wooden walls and ignored the book on her lap. A light breeze from the cracks in the shutters swept along her neck and under the collar of her cotton robe. Her gaze darted to the bed in the corner. A worn quilt she’d allowed to air all day covered the sagging mattress. Clean sheets lay underneath the spread.
Should she turn down the covers to make the bed look more appealing? Or would he care more about what she had on?
She ran her hand along her ribcage and pictured the black corset under her robe. The tight fit hugged her waist and lifted her breasts. She shifted in the rocker, and the soft fabric of her favorite pink bloomers stroked her legs. Butterflies danced in her stomach. Could she really go through with this?
And what was taking Trent so long? Did Tom forget to tell him?
The sound of hooves against the hard ground heightened her nerves. The thud of boots on the porch pulled the breath from her lungs. The latch clicked and the door opened. A large man filled the doorway.
Four years hadn’t changed Trent’s tall muscular frame. Wide shoulders, sinewy arms, narrow hips, and a flat stomach, he stood like a Viking ready for battle. Heat, with a touch of fear, filled her body at the thought of him lying over her. She drew in a hurried breath, closed her book, and rose from the chair.
“Well, now, did you think I’d ever arrive?” He shut the door and tossed his hat onto the table by the door. Dark curly hair circled his head, and his dark brown eyes met hers.
“I had no doubt you’d get here eventually.” Her hands shaking, Catherine laid her book on the rocker and tried for a more seductive tone. “But I’d like to know what delayed you.”
One corner of his mouth turned up in a crooked grin, he stepped forward, and then paused. “Wait a second, don’t I know you?”
Catherine nodded and toyed with the knot holding her robe together. Should she shed her robe and try to seduce him first? Or just tell him her name?
He tilted his head slightly, and a frown formed on his lips. The subdued lighting of the lantern didn’t mask the lines marring his brow.
Apprehension slithered over her skin, and a lump the size
of Texas grew in her throat. “I…uh…”
“Catherine?”
More of an accusation than a question, her name echoed in her head. “Yes, I…” She edged closer.
He shuffled backward until his back hit the door. “What the hell are you doing here?”
His gaze dropped to swell of her breasts, and the cattywhumped expression on his face registered. Clarity filled her head. The man might deny it, but the heat in his eyes proved he found her appealing. Energy pulsed through her, and she untied the knot at her waist. “I decided, since we’re practically engaged, I didn’t want you sleeping with another woman.”
“Whoa, don’t even think about removing that robe.” He held out his hands to stop her, but his tongue slid over his parched lips and the blaze in his eyes sparked higher.
Catherine’s confidence grew, and the doubt that had plagued her for the last few hours faded. He might resist, but she’d show him this was what they both wanted.
He shook his head, and a frown marred his brow. “You don’t need to do this.”
“Then you weren’t planning to make love to another woman tonight?” She lifted her hands to her collar and eased her robe off her shoulders. It fell to the bend in her arms. “Because if you are, it’ll have to be me. I’m the only woman you’re allowed to touch from now on.”
His head jerked like he’d taken a shot to the chin. He drew back his shoulders, and his eyes flickered with anger. “We’re not married yet.”
“Meaning, we will be soon.” She lowered her arms, and the robe fell to the floor. Excitement coursed through her veins at being this close to the dream of having Trent in her arms.
He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck as his gaze sped over her exposed body. “Where did you get that outfit?”
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