Rugged Texas Cowboy

by Lora Leigh

  “Yeah, I figured that one.” Easing his weight from her, he grinned back at her. “I guess you wouldn’t be willing to listen to an explanation?”

  Angel sat up slowly, her breathing still erratic, her pulse pounding through her veins.

  “I was unaware there was another woman you were concentrating your efforts on,” she stated. She never asked, nor questioned. She’d be damned if she’d give anyone permission to lie to her by asking.

  “Baby, the world is full of women,” he told her with charming amusement. “Concentrating on a single one is a mistake I don’t make.”

  A mistake.

  She rose slowly to her feet.

  “Ah, there you are.” Her father stepped into the grotto, his gaze taking in the fire, Jack’s seat on the bench, and Angel before his expression turned somber.

  In that second she knew he was aware of what might have nearly happened.

  How foolish she was to have given into the illusion that there might have been more … She pushed the thought back. She was just foolish.

  “Yes, Father, here we are,” she agreed, keeping her tone low, unaffected. “And now that you’re here you can see your friend back to the house. Excuse me, I have things to do.”

  She stepped to the path and strode calmly away from them when she wanted nothing more than to run, to race back to the castle and up to her room. To hide beneath the blankets of her bed and pretend she hadn’t just experienced a kiss that burned through her senses from a man more than willing to share the same with another woman as soon as he left her.

  Whoremonger, her wounded pride raged. He was no more than a whoremonger and she was the foolish little twit she’d once been called by another of his ilk. A mistake she’d sworn she’d never make again.

  THREE

  He was kicking himself and he didn’t even know why. Irritable, out of sorts, or put out over a woman wasn’t how Jack normally allowed any affair to affect him. There were too many women in the world to be put out over one, he’d always told Luc. So it was no surprise that finding himself in all three of those states at once only made it worse.

  The fact that he wasn’t looking for the barmaid to seduce wasn’t the point. It was that instant assumption that he was doing just that while seducing her that pissed him off. There might be too many women in the world to tie himself down with just one, but only a stupid man thought he could actually seduce two at once and keep his sanity for long.

  He didn’t play games either. Had she just given him the chance, then he would have explained that the barmaid he was searching for had inquired, through one of Joe’s friends, if he was willing to give her an estimate on delivering a crate of housewares to New York on his flight back for her sister who had married an American serviceman. There was room left on the plane, so he’d been willing once he had the information he needed.

  Angel hadn’t been willing to wait for that explanation though. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to beg to give it to her.

  What the hell was it about her anyway? What drew him to her when he’d never been drawn to one of those uptight boarding-school prisses before? Women like that were more trouble than they were worth. Too much time and effort for too little return.

  Until Angel.

  Fuck, she might have singed his toenails with that kiss. And his toenails had never come close to being singed before.

  “Father, if there’s nothing you need, then I’ll be going to my room.” Frosty as hell she was, he thought, glaring at her as she stepped into the family room.

  “So soon, dear?” Perplexed, Joe looked at his daughter over the reading glasses he’d put on to go over the contract Jack had given him for the barmaid and her family for the shipment of the goods.

  “I’m rather tired.” That stiff upper lip drew his gaze.

  He could see her on her knees, all prissy-dressed, face flushed, eyes burning with lust as he fucked those pouty lips. He narrowed his gaze on the curves as his cock throbbed, beating in wild hunger at the thought of watching her take him so intimately.

  Joe frowned. “I was rather hoping you’d go over this contract a bit for me first. You remember Alice Gilroy, married that young Army man from America? Her sister and family are wantin’ to send a crate of housewares back to her when Jack flies home. They’ve asked me to go over the contracts for ’em, but you understand these things much better than I.”

  For a second the statement didn’t penetrate. When it did, Jack kept his surprise to himself.

  That old bastard had nearly negotiated him and Luc out of a single penny of profit when he was in Dallas five or six years ago. They’d barely skinned by with enough to cover their time and fuel on that deal.

  Her lips tightened and his balls tightened along the base of his dick. Yeah, he could fuck that pretty mouth and enjoy the hell out of it.

  “I’ll take it to my room…”

  “Come, lass,” her father chided her. “The evenings are all the time I have with ye,” Joe complained. “You’ll be back with yer phone calls and meetins this week with barely a moment to spare for yer da. Come sit a spell. Look over the papers for me and visit with Jack while I find Haverly to fuel the fire, then we’ll share a bit of Ireland’s finest.”

  Rising from the chair across from Jack in front of the fireplace, the one he’d found her in earlier that day, he stared back at her expectantly.

  “Come now, Angel. It took me more than a few hours of work to find the lass tryin’ to contact Jack for her sister. All Haverly told us was that she tended the bar. The least ye could do is go over the papers for me,” he chided her gently while giving her the reason for his search for the barmaid.

  What the hell was that old geezer up to? He’d known damned good and well what had been going on when he’d stepped into the center of that maze and saw Jack and Angel together. He wasn’t a fool.

  Her nostrils flaring, violet eyes spitting fire at him despite the explanation, she tried for a smile when she looked at her father. There was no doubt she was fond of her father, and he clearly adored her.

  “Very well, Father,” she relented, though he swore she pushed those words between clenched teeth. “Do hurry with Haverly though. My day begins early tomorrow.”

  Walking sedately across the room she took the papers, but when she moved to turn to her little desk her father all but pushed her into his chair. For the first time Jack saw surprise round her eyes as she stared up at her father.

  “Stop being so antisocial, girl,” Joe demanded in exasperation. “Yer mother taught ye better now, I know she did.”

  “Of course, Father,” she answered rather suspiciously, or perhaps warily as Joe huffed before straightening his sweater, nodding and stalking away from them.

  She shot him an accusing look, as though it were somehow his fault that her father was acting strangely.

  Lifting a brow, he sipped at the Irish whisky Joe had pressed into his hand when they’d returned to the family room. And he couldn’t help but be amused by her predicament. She would have preferred to be anywhere but sitting there with him.

  Pressing her lips together firmly, she turned toward the light on the small table next to her and began reading over the contracts, blatantly ignoring him.

  Being ignored wasn’t something Jack normally allowed.

  “Are you normally antisocial, or is it just me?” Jack asked, grinning at the irritation in the look she flashed him.

  “I believe I’m being quite social, Mr. Riley,” she answered, her gaze returning to the papers. “All things considered.”

  Oh, there it was. “All things considered,” that one unneeded little phrase and a hint of a brogue accompanying it. Now he had her.

  “What are we considering?” He frowned, as though he were confused.

  He wasn’t in the least confused. She was so put out over the comment he’d made that there were too many women in the world to concentrate solely on one, that she could barely stand to hold back her anger.

  “The fa
ct that yer no more than an alley cat,” she stated, those violet eyes spitting flames of wrath over the papers she held.

  “Sweetheart, there was only you there,” he reminded her. “You had only to give your father a moment to explain.”

  Contempt curled her lips. “I needed no explanations,” she assured him. “I should have known better than to find myself in such a position to begin with. You’ve no loyalty to anyone but yourself, have ye, Jack?”

  Well, that wasn’t exactly true.

  “I have friends,” he assured her, though he was certain that wasn’t what she was talking about.

  “By yer own admission ye’ve no family, an orphan ye called yerself,” she reminded him, not quite as calmly as she would have before. “No wife, ex-wife, nor children. Ye’ve only friends,” she said a bit sadly now. “And lovers.”

  “And lovers,” he agreed softly.

  “In the plural.” The word sounded dirty with that little bit of brogue behind it. It made his dick harder. “No loyalty tae even one at a time. No one waitin’ for ye when ye return to her home. Not even a maid to greet ye when ye enter. What a lonely life it must be.”

  The more she talked, the thicker the Irish came out in her, and the more he felt the lash of those softly spoken words and the truth of a life he rarely allowed himself to consider.

  “No ties,” he agreed. “You only live once, sweetheart. Live it to the fullest.”

  “Yer living life to the fullest and how grand that must be for ya.” She gave him a pitying look. “Ye also only die once, Jack. I’ve a mind not tae not die alone. Men such as yerself die in seedy motel rooms regrettin’ life as they’ve lived it, and missin’ what they’ve never known.”

  “And that would be?” he growled before tossing back the rest of the drink. “What am I missing, Miss Manor?”

  She smiled with the same patient tolerance she used on her father when he’d lost his glasses the evening before and she had to find them for him.

  “Yer missin’ that smile that love would give ye when ye return from yer travels. Yer missin’ the smell of a fire in the evenin’ that ye can share, the warmth of one that knows ye well. Not just yer body, as well as ye know how to use it, I’m sure. But one who knows yer desires before ye know ’em yerself.” She stopped, swallowed, and shook her head. “Forgive me, Jack.” The lady of the house was back, damn her. “Your life is no concern of mine. Your future loss is no concern of mine.” She rose from her chair and laid the papers in the seat. “Please tell Father I’ll meet him for breakfast in the morn.”

  When she would have walked past him he reached out for her, gripped her hips, and had her on his lap, in his arms, and his tongue in her mouth before she could do more than gasp.

  Heat, fiery and intense, spilled from her kiss and the little cry she made as her hands clenched at his shoulders, short little nails flexing against the material of his shirt like a little cat. Holding her against him, he plundered her lips, drew from her kiss and growled at the hunger tearing through him unlike anything he’d known before.

  He wanted to lay her down in front of that damned fire and come over her, push inside her, and hear her screaming in pleasure. He wanted to watch the lady melt, see the woman emerge and reap the bounty he knew no other man had known. She might not be a virgin, but he bet his last dollar she’d never burned as he knew they’d burn together.

  “Jack, lad, I’ll be there in just a bit,” Joe called from outside the room. “I thought I’d have Cook get us a nice slice a that cake I saw her bakin’ earlier…” His voice trailed away.

  How the fuck long would cake take anyway?

  No way in hell it would take as long as he needed to sate his need for this damned woman.

  “Enough.” She was the one to break the kiss, to put a halt to the mind-numbing pleasure he knew she was feeling as well. “Let me go, Jack.”

  “Let me go up with you, Angel.” He wondered if he was finally reduced to begging a woman. “I’ll pleasure you. I swear it.”

  She pushed herself from him, her lips red and swollen, face flushed, hands trembling as she slowly straightened the blouse he’d been pulling from her skirt.

  “Of course ye would,” she snapped, glaring at him. “I’ve no doubt when ye left my bed I’d well know that ye’d been there. Just as I’d know I was no more tae ya than all the others that had gone before me.”

  “You’re saying no because you want to be the one that got away?” He snorted at the thought. “No man my age hasn’t heard no a time or two, baby. You’ll not be the first.” He smirked. “Maybe not even the last.”

  “No doubt.” Her chin lifted, her voice turned frosty, but her eyes raged. “There’s no doubt in my mind, Mr. Riley, that I’ll be just one of many women you’ve known in your life. But what I’ll not be is just one of many lovers that you’ve cast aside when it came time to protect that frozen heart of yours. Good night.”

  She walked away from him, but she didn’t do so unhurriedly. The heels of her shoes snapped against the wood floors and might have even been close to a run as she went up the stone steps leading to the bedrooms. And she left him sitting there, looking into a future he didn’t want to see.

  *

  Sleepless nights never failed to make Angel cranky, and she knew it. And this was but another sleepless night among those since Jack had been in the castle, disrupting her schedule and her life.

  Hours after she heard him retire to his room, she pulled on her robe and slipped from her room, intent on making her way to the kitchen and perhaps a glass of warm milk. Instead, she stepped into the family room as she glimpsed the glow of the fire still burning. The crackle of the flames, the gentle flicker of the light against gold drew her gaze to the glass-enclosed relic resting beneath the picture of her mother and da over the mantel.

  The torque was curved to fit about the neck, the open end to rest just at the male’s collar bone. To one side was the shape of the wolf’s head, to the other an open ring that fit over the head of the wolf. The ring was the female, enduring and inescapable, the wolf the male she would give her heart to and bind to her forever.

  The legend of the torque was that so long as it remained with the female descendants of the Druid’s line, then they’d always know happiness in their marriages and security in the arms of their mates. The male would always know the warmth of her love and the prosperity the torque would bring.

  A silly legend, she reminded herself, but still, she reached out and touched the glass, the familiar warmth she knew wasn’t due to the fire alone, meeting her fingertips.

  Her mother had once told her that the torque would accept only one, that it would know the mate born to capture her heart. The tales her mother had told her of the torque’s adventures were as much a part of her life as the castle itself. She was raised on the legend of it, and as a child believed in it.

  As a child.

  Drawing her hand back she sighed heavily. The torque was indeed ancient though. And more than once others had attempted to steal it, only to meet with a bitter end. It was considered both blessed and cursed by the Druid who created it. What it was was a beautiful piece of workmanship belonging to a family that had been smart enough to create the legends and the curse to ensure it remained forever within the castle.

  “There ye are, lass.” Her father stepped into the room, his heavy robe tied snugly at his middle, his feet pushed into warm slippers. “I thought I’d check the fire to be certain it was banked for the night.”

  “The fire’s fine, Father,” she assured him, looking up at her mother and seeing the gentle regard she so missed. “She loved us too well, Father,” she said softly as he came beside her. “We’ve not left this place for fear of losing our memories of her.”

  Perhaps it was time for her to leave, to see the world as her friends kept urging her to do.

  “Do ye think that’s why?” He chuckled at bit at her musings. “No, lass, I don’t believe that’s why. She but ensured only happy memories grac
ed her home, is all. That is not what holds us here though.”

  “What holds us here then?” She frowned up at the younger version of her parents, seeing their bond in the way her father’s hands lay on her mother’s delicate shoulders, the way one of Megan Manning’s fingers lay against one of those broader, stronger hands. Or did she merely wish to see it?

  “Tis home, lass.” He sounded faintly confused by the question. “Ye don’t seek to leave the place yer heart calls home. Yer happy in it, content in the air of it, the beauty ye find in it. Tis all,” he said gently. “Are ye not happy here? Do ye find ye’ve a need to leave, Angel?”

  “Would you be angry, Father?” she asked, pushing her hands into the pockets of the robe she wore. “Would you wish to hold me here if I didn’t want to stay?”

  “Such questions ye ask, girl,” he chided her, smiling as she looked at him. “I’d no’ be angry. I’d miss ye, but I’d understand. Will ye be leavin’ then?”

  She pursed her lips for a moment. “When Mrs. Mulhaney’s pigs fly perhaps,” she laughed softly. “I was merely curious.” She leaned her head against her father’s arm. “I’ll never find a husband though.” And she did feel a twinge of sadness at that. “But as I’ve found, there are none that would love this place, this land as I do.”

  She couldn’t imagine living anywhere but Ireland. To see the storms sweeping in from the sea, to stand at her bedroom window and watch the waves crash against the cliffs below. To hear the winds howling about in the winter storms and know there was nothing to fear there.

  “Yer mother said the torque would ensure your wolf arrives, child,” he told her. “And ye may travel the world, but ye’ll return here before the birth of your first child. Yer mother and I lived in America close to my own family, until your brother was conceived. We agreed to return so he’d be born in the walls of this castle, and we never left. A decision I was happy with every day once it was made.”

  “The torque is but legend, Father.” No matter how much she wished it was more. “Very pretty and very dear. A piece of history I shall always treasure myself, but legend nonetheless.” Turning, she stood on tiptoe and kissed his scruffy cheek. “Good night, Father. I love you.”