The Countess and the Cowboy

by Linda Wisdom

  Tyler immediately knew where she was headed.

  "Obviously, you found out when you walked in on him playing polo pony with one of his conquests."

  Her head nodded in an affirmative. "I was so disgusted with what I saw, nothing he said mattered. He tried to say all the right words and make the right promises, but deep down, I knew he didn't mean them. He just didn't want me to leave until he had his son and heir. He even tried to offer me a huge settlement if I promised to stay until we had a child," she concluded bitterly. "I told him he may have been Italian and the courts frowned on divorce, but if he didn't give me my freedom, I would do all I could to make his life a living hell any way I could. He knew I not only meant it, but that I could do it. He didn't fight me. I packed up Le Chat and moved to Salem to be with Jack after that."

  There were so many sides to her, he wondered if he'd ever see all of them. "From an Italian palace to haunted bedroom with a lecherous old ghost who liked to watch you undress." He slowly scanned her body from head to toe, pausing at the creamy swells barely visible in the open neck of her shirt.

  "Old Humphrey was harmless. The man may have been dead, but he didn't consider himself out of the game. Maybe I gave him some joy. I doubt he'd had much in the last hundred years."

  Tyler shook his head. He touched a stray curl that had escaped her braid, winding it around his finger until it rested against her cheek. Her skin was warm and silky, silently inviting him closer. He wondered if she knew just how tempted he was to do all the things he'd been dreaming about. He leaned over farther.

  "You like to tempt fate, don't you? To see how far you can push someone before they fall into a pit of insanity," he murmured.

  She slowly turned her head. A fraction more on her part and their lips would touch. She could smell the rich aroma of soap coupled with sweaty male and horse. She considered it more arousing than any man's cologne on the market.

  "I don't seem to be succeeding with you," she whispered, nor caring that her hat was slipping off her lap.

  He wanted to throw his head back and laugh until he was sore. Then he wanted to strip off her clothes and make love to her until he was sore. "Lady, you've succeeded with me more than you'll ever know."

  "And you hate it, don't you?" Letitia ran her fingertips down his cheek, feeling the rough skin rasp the sensitive pads. Years of exposure to the harsh elements had deepened the lines and added a rugged texture to his face. His gray eyes were dark with desire and seemed to bum their way to her very soul. She looked down and picked up one of his hands, pulling the leather glove off. She traced the lines in his palm, studied the callused tips and a nasty-looking cut along the back of his hand.

  "You always seem to have a bruise or a cut somewhere," she murmured.

  "Hazards of the job." He felt the effects of her touch all the way down his gut. He never knew he could feel so aroused just by a woman touching his hand, but he discovered Letitia had a special way with her soft hands and feather-light touches. He shifted his weight as his jeans started to strangle him. He felt his breath slam out of his chest when she smiled. "You like to tempt men, don't you? You like to be seen like something from a dream."

  "I thought I was more like something out of a nightmare."

  "If you were, I need to look into having nightmares more often." It took all his self-control not to take her in his arms. "I'm still trying to figure you out, Letitia Jones DeMarco."

  "Is that why you spend so much time peering in my bedroom window?" Her smile widened when she saw his surprise. "You really should put some curtains up there, Mr. Barnes. I thought you'd stopped smoking.

  J. T. once mentioned the bet you and he had going."

  He stiffened. "Spying, countess?"

  "Who's spying? I was just taking in some night air. .

  A lit cigarette is as good as a nightlight to point someone out." Letitia pushed her rear end forward until she could comfortably lay down on the grass. "And I had curtains to shield me."

  Tyler stretched out beside her, bracing his head on his fist. "So you're admitting you were spying, too."

  "Only when I saw the lit cigarette."

  "How did you know it was me?" he demanded. "It could have been anyone of the men hoping to catch you with your clothes off."

  "Another man would have given up when he realized he wasn't going to catch me naked," she softly countered. "That's when I knew I wasn't dealing with a pervert. Just you." she added deliberately.

  A comer of his mouth moved upward. He played with the top button of her shirt until it came loose. A spot of sunlight bounced off his chin, she idly noticed, magnifying a faint growth of dark beard.

  "Does this bother you?"

  "Should it?" Letitia countered. "I guess it goes along with the foreplay we've been engaging in for the past few weeks. And that isn't even close to the real thing."

  Tyler's dry chuckle skipped along her nerve endings. "Sweetheart, I don't think you have anything to worry about. If we ever come up against the real thing it will turn out to be so good between us you won't want to stop." His fingers edged their way inside her shirt.

  She batted his hand away. "Keep your hands to yourself, cowboy."

  "That's not what you said the last time." He loosened a few more buttons and parted the material with his fingertip. A sharp breath escaped when he exposed a lace-edged bra that barely covered the creamy mounds of flesh.

  "Don't believe in plain white cotton, do you?" he asked in a hoarse voice as he fingered the dark taupe lace edging pale mocha silk.

  "I didn't think you'd find it as interesting," she whispered with a sardonic twist.

  "Interesting isn't the word for it. It's a good thing I didn't know about this before we started out or we wouldn't have made it any farther than the barn." His brows met together in a curious frown before he found the tiny clip fastener between her breasts. He looked up, checking her expression before he flicked it loose.

  Letitia rapidly sat up and pulled her blouse together. "Enough:'

  "Not yet." He boldly splayed his palm against her bare abdomen before she could finish rebuttoning her shirt. "Live dangerously, countess. That does seem to be what you do best."

  She turned her head. "Good idea," she whispered, pulling his mouth down to hers. "I like a man who thinks he can take me on and live to tell the ... " The last word was smothered by his mouth.

  Letitia was convinced fireworks exploded overhead as Tyler's warmth covered her. She purred with delight when his hand slipped inside the gaping shirt to cover one breast, his thumb gently flicking her nipple. She wanted to scream when his mouth replaced his hand.

  "So sweet," he murmured, curling his tongue around her nipple.

  "Tyler." In her agitation to feel more of his bare skin, she ripped open his shirt, sending buttons flying everywhere. She ran her hands along his chest, feeling his muscles tense under her caressing palms. She lifted her head and tongued a copper-colored nipple until it hardened into a tiny nub. She laughed softly at his murmured curse when she moved her hands downward. "My, my, is this why they call Montana the Big Sky Country?"

  His reply was to kiss her so thoroughly she could only hang on to him. Before she could take a breath to calm her jangling senses, he rotated his palm against the juncture between her thighs. She gasped and arched upward under his touch.

  "Slow and gentle, baby," he whispered. "Slow and gentle."

  "That's easy for you to say." She struggled for air.

  "Call it getting even for your little trick with the carrot that day." He nibbled her ear lobe.

  "I understand it's your favorite vegetable." She was positive neon colors were flashing before her eyes.

  He chuckled. "Well, that little stunt you pulled in the kitchen gave it a whole new meaning." He moved until he lay securely between her parted thighs. He muttered explicit words of praise as he greedily kissed and nipped every inch of bare flesh her open shirt revealed. "I want you, Letitia." His breath was warm against her stomach. He fingered
the metal button and zipper tab as he looked at her with a molten silver gaze.

  Her breath caught in her throat. Tyler didn't need to say the words to her. She only had to feel his arousal bulging against her thigh. "Not here," she panted, struggling to sit up.

  Tyler gently pushed her back and crept upward kissing her deeply again until any thoughts of leaving vanished from her brain.

  "All right. Uncle," she gasped, pulling away. "If we keep this up much longer, I'm going to seriously think about ripping off all of your clothing and having my wicked way with you." She scooted backward on her rump until she could sit up. Tyler sat cross-legged across from her looking wonderfully sexy with his shirt open and hanging outside his jeans and hair mussed. She frowned. "Where's your hat?"

  He grinned. "You threw it like a Frisbee right after you ripped my shirt open."

  She clapped hands over burning cheeks as she realized his shirt was missing most of its buttons. "I can't believe I did that. I've never done anything like that before."

  "You said you like to live dangerously, so I figured ripping open men's shirts was second nature to you."

  "I probably thought I was ripping out your heart."

  Tyler trapped her hands between his before she could inflict injury. "Last I looked, my heart wasn't that far down on my body."

  Letitia snatched her hands back and turned to pick up her hat. Fiddling with the strings helped her mentally find her balance. She smoothed flyaway strands of hair from her face and took several deep cleansing breaths to calm herself.

  Looking unruffled and as if the last few minutes hadn't happened, Tyler stood up. Staring at his open shirt, he arched an eyebrow at Letitia as if to say it's your doing, shrugged and leisurely tucked his shirt into his jeans. He leaned down to grab her hand and pull her to her feet.

  "I better get you back to the house before Myrna sends out a search party," he told her.

  She arched a disbelieving eyebrow as she quickly fastened each of her shirt buttons under Tyler's enigmatic gaze.

  "Feel better that you've called a halt?" he asked.

  "Immensely." She picked her hat up and slapped it against her hip. "I guess my idea of true western romance is-" she tapped her forefinger against her chin in exaggerated thought "-you playing your guitar and serenading me under my window:"

  "Good thing I don't have a guitar since it's not my style."

  "You could borrow one." Letitia picked up the reins and tried to pull herself up into the saddle without much success.

  Tyler boosted her up. "There's only two drawbacks to your idea, countess," he drawled,

  "No, it can't be!" She clapped her hands to her cheeks in mock astonishment. "Don't tell me that you can't play a guitar. A cowboy who can't play a guitar? I would think an atrocity like that could get you thrown out of the union."

  He grinned. "Not only that. I can't sing. I'm about as tone deaf as you can get. I'm not even allowed to sing in the shower."

  Letitia looked down her nose at him.

  "Well, then what use are you if you can't play a guitar or sing?" she playfully demanded.

  His hand on her thigh sent shivers of delight down her spine. "Don't worry, I'll be only too happy to show you when the time comes, and you won't have anything to complain about."

  "Only if you think you can outwit me into selling you the ranch."

  His eyes turned dark silver shaded with purpose. "I wouldn't have to outwit you if you realized I deserve it fair and square."

  "Fair and square?" Letitia asked archly. "This is my ranch Tyler, and though I may need the time, there's no doubt I'll soon know enough to competently run it."

  Tyler kept a firm grip on her thigh. His fingers had a habit of stroking oh, so lightly in a way that sent quivers along her nerve endings.

  "When pigs fly." He carefully enunciated each word.

  She leaned over and gave his cheek a condescending pat. "Guess what, Mr. Barnes," she whispered, deliberately puckering her lips with each word. Anyone seeing them from a distance would think she was blowing him loving kisses. "I just saw Porky Pig in his Super Pig costume soar overhead." She straightened up in the saddle and gathered the reins. "And you know what that means."

  "Yeah, that you need your eyesight checked."

  She laughed. "Don't be a sore loser, Tyler. It doesn't become you."

  That was when Tyler became determined to guide Letitia over the roughest terrain he could find on the way back.

  "Let's see just how tough she really is," he murmured, feeling better already.

  Chapter Ten

  "May he fall into a bog somewhere and rot there," Letitia muttered under her breath as she slowly slid her way out of the saddle. Tyler hadn't offered to help her down and she'd be damned before she'd ask. The minute her feet hit solid ground she could feel the aches and pains shoot through her thighs.

  "Are you doing all right over there?" Tyler asked with mock solicitude. "No problems?"

  "Just dandy!" She brightened her voice long enough to answer, then darkly muttered, "I'm going to set Le Chat on him right after I sharpen his little claws."

  "I assume you know how to take care of your mount?" Tyler asked, walking toward her.

  "Naturally." After making sure her mount was properly cooled off, under Tyler's amused gaze as he watched her stiff posture, Letitia led Son of Satan into the barn and began wiping the horse down. Her little imp of mischief whispered in her ear as she noticed Tyler still watching her.

  "There's something very soothing about a massage, isn't there, Satan, old boy?" she crooned to the horse as she ran the sponge down his flanks. "You realize it's all in the hands, don't you? Hands that need to be gentle yet strong as they find all your favorite little spots." She kept a comer of her eye on Tyler who'd immediately straightened up as he heard her words. "Personally, I prefer using a nice rich cream or silky lotion for my massages, but I don't think you'd appreciate that as much as I do. There's nothing like the cool lotion gliding over your bare skin, warming in the process." By now, she noticed a faint sheen of perspiration on Tyler's forehead. He looked as if his boots had been nailed to the floor and he couldn't have moved from that spot if he wanted to.

  Letitia bent from the waist, taking her time looking for a cloth while giving Tyler a good view of her rear end slowly swaying from side to side. The movement sent frantic signals from her body to her brain that what she was doing was painful, but she didn't care. She'd do whatever was necessary to make Tyler feel like a sex-starved maniac.

  "Too bad we can't have candlelight in here, Satan," she continued cooing to the horse as she later finished by gently combing his mane and tail. "Maybe even some incense to add to the atmosphere." Her soft words grew even softer as she completed her task and carried the equipment out of the stall. "Well, I'm finished." She made sure her voice was loud and strong to break the spell. Tyler jerked upright as if rudely awakened from a lovely dream.

  "Good," he said tersely.

  As Letitia carefully made her way back to the house, she noticed Tyler wasn't far behind. She gritted her teeth and forced her aching legs to walk as naturally as possible.

  Myrna looked up at they entered the kitchen. Her eyes widened at the sight of Letitia's slightly stiff movements and bright red face. As her gaze fell on the man behind her, she did a double take when she realized that even though Tyler's shirt was tucked into his jeans, it gaped open. She could only assume it had to do with the absence of buttons. She bit down hard on her lower lip to keep from laughing. She would have paid a small fortune to know what happened during their ride! Although, now they looked as if a major war was soon to be reenacted.

  "Gracious, Tyler, what did you do to the poor girl?

  Force her to ride into the sun all morning?" She shook her head at her first sight of Letitia's sunburned face. "Couldn't you see what sensitive skin she has?" She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a small jar. "Aloe gel," she explained, handing it to Letitia. "You better smooth it over your face so you d
on't peel."

  Tyler's features displayed concern as he realized just how painfully red Letitia's face was. "I should have made sure your hat was pulled down far enough to shade your face."

  She shrugged. "I'll be fine," she assured him, temporarily forgetting her vow to show Tyler she knew what she was doing. She had no idea Myrna was watching them.

  Apparently liking what she saw, the cook nodded and returned to her tasks.

  "You better drink this up," Tyler told her as he poured orange juice into two glasses and handed one to Letitia.

  She drank deeply of the cold liquid and immediately filled the glass again.

  "Mr. Beecham called," Myrna announced. "He'd like you to stop by this afternoon at one."

  Letitia grimaced. "I should have called him sooner. I wanted to be the one to make the overture."

  "Better you than me," Myrna mumbled, peeling potatoes with sudden industry.

  Letitia looked from one to the other. "Meaning?"

  Tyler was the one to reply. "Let's just say old banker Beecham isn't one of the most popular people in the county."

  "What banker is? What's his problem? Hard-nosed? Drinks in secret or does he like the ladies?" she teased.

  "Hard-nosed?" Myrna snorted. "Listen to this. His son-in-law needed to apply for a short-term loan to pay his wife's hospital expenses after their baby was born. The baby was two weeks premature and needed additional care. Micah insisted on collateral before he'd even consider looking at the application! His excuse was he needed to make sure the boy would pay back his loan. That just because he was family didn't mean he should expect special consideration."

  Letitia felt her morning jubilation ebb. "Well, maybe the son-in-law wasn't reliable to begin with," she said weakly.

  Tyler shook his head. "Adam is one of the most honest and industrious people you can meet. It was because he doesn't wear a white shirt and tie to work that bothers old man Beecham. He's a mechanic," he explained.

  Letitia sighed, visualizing a pleasant meeting going down the tubes. "Then it's a good thing I've had experience with rigid thinking, old-fashioned people like him,” she explained, sounding more positive than she felt as she headed for the phone. "I'll just act like a sweet little lady and everything will be fine."