Backlash

by Lisa Jackson

  “About the same.”

  “And Black Magic?”

  “He’s a little improved,” Colton said, taking her chilled fingers in his large hands. “Come on, you can take a look for yourself.” He pulled her through the door, kicked it closed and walked along the hall toward the back of the house.

  “Cassie!” Milly chimed as Colton led her through the kitchen. “You’re just in time for dinner!”

  “Not tonight—really,” she said when she read the disappointment in Milly’s eyes. “Another time.”

  “I’ll hold you to it.”

  “Other plans?” Colton asked, one dark brow rising.

  She didn’t respond.

  “Seriously, why not stay?” Colton asked. He had let go of her hand long enough to open the back door to the porch and start yanking on his boots.

  Cassie’s eyes narrowed. “Unfinished business.”

  Looking at Milly, Colton cocked his head in Cassie’s direction and explained, “I insulted Cassie this morning.”

  “Did you?” Milly smothered a smile as she glanced from Colton to Cassie and back again. “Then I guess you’d better apologize and ask her to dinner.”

  A lazy smile tacked to his face, he drawled, “I just might.”

  Cassie’s blood began to boil. How ingratiating! How absolutely conceited!

  Milly lifted the lid of a pot on the stove. Spicy-scented steam filled the room. “Did you get hold of that Grover fella?”

  Colton grunted as he pulled on his other boot. “I did.”

  “And?”

  “And I told him I was too busy to hop the next jet to South Korea.”

  Cassie glanced up at him sharply. Was he serious? His responsibilities here superseded his need to live life on the edge? That would be a first.

  “Come on,” he insisted, reaching for her hand again. He held open the door as she slipped through. “There’s another reason I decided to stay.”

  “Oh? And what was that?”

  “A beautiful woman.”

  He heard her swift intake of breath, saw a glimmer of hope spark in her gray-green eyes. “I saw you getting out of the truck and I . . .” He let his voice trail off. Colton had never been good at making promises he wasn’t sure he could keep. Nor did he believe in painting a rosy picture that might someday dim.

  Cassie angled her face up at him, her cheeks flushed from the cold, her expression serious. His hands felt so warm.

  “Well, I guess you were right,” he admitted. “There is some unfinished business between us. Lots of it.”

  “And you want to finish it?” she asked, doubting him, pulling away so she could think.

  His eyelids lowered a fraction. “I don’t think we can leave it as it is.”

  “Don’t try to snow me, McLean,” she said, remembering all too vividly the accusations that hung between them. Marching stiffly along the trail leading through the grass to the stable yard, she said, “I’m not as easily conned as I was when I was seventeen. Dad was right, you know. You McLeans are all cut from the same cloth!”

  “I never conned you.”

  “Seemed that way.” She reached the old foaling shed and grabbed for the door, but as she pulled on the latch, the flat of Colton’s hand slammed the door back against its casing. Looking up so that her gaze collided with his, she thrust out her chin mutinously.

  “Let’s not get into all that, Cassie. What we’re talking about is the here and now. The reasons these horses are sick. That’s all.”

  “And that includes insinuating that my father would intentionally cause an animal suffering and pain!” Her face burned with a simmering anger.

  Colton’s frustration was plain in his expression. “If it’s any consolation, I don’t think Ivan would hurt the animals.”

  “Not even to get back at you?” she taunted, unable to resist baiting him.

  “Not even then.”

  “Good. Now all you’ve got to do is convince Denver.”

  And that won’t be easy, Colton thought as he slid the latch away from the door and held it open.

  Cassie stepped inside and was greeted by a soft nicker. “Look at you,” she whispered, walking up to Black Magic and patting his nose. Turning her head, she grinned at Colton. “He’s already better.” But when she touched the swelling under his jaw, the horse flinched, snorting impatiently and tossing back his head. “Steady, boy, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”·

  The shed was warm and dry. Fresh, sweet-smelling straw had been scattered over the floor, and Magic’s box was filled with oats.

  Tempest, however, hadn’t improved. In fact, he looked worse. Whereas Black Magic’s temperature was slowly falling, Tempest’s continued to rise, and his nasal discharge was constant and opaque. “Has he eaten anything yet?” Cassie asked, already guessing the answer.

  Colton shook his head. “Curtis has tried to get him to eat. So has Len. But it’s a major battle just to force the antibiotics down his throat.”

  “Come on, boy,” Cassie whispered, frowning a little. “You can do it.”

  The big sorrel didn’t move, didn’t so much as flick an ear in her direction. Patting his strong shoulder, she sent up a silent prayer for this horse and the rest of the McLean stock.

  Together, she and Colton made the rounds again. One of the yearlings had started to cough, and Cassie ordered him isolated immediately. “It might be nothing more than a cold,” she said, crossing her fingers as Curtis led the horse to a stall far from the others, “but we can’t take any chances.”

  Curtis, Len and Daniel started the task of cleaning out the yearling’s old stall, and Colton, more charming than usual, convinced Cassie to stay for dinner.

  Later, he and Cassie walked to the broodmare barn and found Red Wing shifting anxiously, pawing at the straw.

  “She’s ready,” Cassie said, keeping a watchful eye on Tessa’s little mare. She leaned her elbows on the top rail of the stall and bent forward to get a closer look.

  Colton stood behind her, so close she could feel the body heat radiating from him. “Maybe you should stick around,” he suggested, his breath on her nape. “She might need you.” He slipped his arms familiarly around Cassie’s waist, linking them at her abdomen, pressing gently so that her hips rested against the firm saddle of his thighs.

  Think, Cassie, she told herself, wishing she had the willpower to squirm away from him. But she didn’t, and the tips of his thumbs gently pressing against the underside of her breasts caused a stirring deep inside her.

  “I—I should go home.”

  “You told me your father never expects you.”

  “I do work odd hours, but—”

  “But nothing. Stay here. The horses need you. And so do I.”

  She closed her eyes and swallowed against the huge, burning lump that suddenly filled her throat. “Colton, don’t—”

  “You said we had unfinished business.”

  “I didn’t mean this!”

  “But I did.” How could she concentrate when his lips were hovering over her crown, his fingers splaying possessively across her abdomen, his warmth seeping through her clothes to caress her skin?

  Gathering all her strength, she turned to face him. “So now you want me. Is that it?”

  “Yes.”

  Her stomach fluttered and her heart pumped faster as she noticed the sexy slant of his mouth, the cocksure lift of his brows. Cassie, use your head! She forced her chin up, challenging him with her piercing gaze. “After all these years, all the heartache, all the misunderstandings and even this—this accusation of Denver’s that my father was part of some insidious plot to destroy your livestock and your ranch—you want me?”

  “Don’t confuse me with my brother,” he warned.

  “And don’t blame me or my father for something we didn’t do!”

  The corners of his mouth moved slightly, and she couldn’t help but drop her gaze to the thin, sensual line of his lips that hid all-too-perfect teeth. Her heartbeat went wild; her
breath fairly burst in her lungs as he tightened his arms around her, crushed her breasts against his chest and kissed her long and hard and lazily, as if they had all the time in the world.

  Cassie closed her eyes, holding on to this one breathless instant and telling herself what had gone before didn’t matter. His tongue slid between her teeth, and she welcomed its touch. All thoughts of denying him vanished.

  Colton groaned, a deep primal sound that caused an answering moan from her. His hands moved up slowly, lifting, surrounding her breasts with a sweet, tortured reverence that nearly moved Cassie to tears. His thumbs stroked gently across her blouse. Her nipples hardened, the skin stretching tight, an ache forming deep in her center. “Stay, Cass,” he whispered. “At least for a little while.”

  She wanted to say no. Deep in her heart she knew she was making an irreversible mistake. “For a while,” she agreed, and his lips moved hungrily over hers.

  He lifted her from her feet and carried her to the far end of the barn. Still holding her, he switched off the lights and kicked open the gate to an empty stall. Fresh, sweet-smelling straw covered the floor.

  Colton grabbed a clean blanket with one hand, dropped it over the straw and gently laid Cassie on the makeshift bed. “What if someone comes here?” she said, though her mind was fuzzy.

  “No one will.”

  “But—”

  “Shh. Milly’s busy, and Curtis and the rest of the hands are in the fields. It’s just you and me.” Covering her mouth with his, he lay with her, his legs entwined with hers, his arms holding her tight against him.

  Outside, the wind whispered through the trees. Cattle lowed, and a night bird called softly. The inside of the barn was warm; horses shifted and sighed, and Colton carefully lifted her sweater over her head.

  In the half-light, Cassie stared up at him. No longer a naive girl of seventeen, she curled her hand around his neck and bent his head so that their lips could mesh. She sighed when he pushed the strap of her camisole off her shoulder.

  His lips nibbled at the sculpted lace, and his tongue traced a sensual pattern against her skin. She shivered, but not from the cold. Anticipation caused tiny bumps to rise on her flesh. He warmed them with the caress of his tongue.

  “Colton,” she whispered, arching closer.

  “I’m right here, love.” He lifted his head and stared at her, and for an instant Cassie forgot about the pain of the past, forgot how he’d abandoned her, forgot that he’d sworn never to trust her again. “God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured, tucking his palms under her breasts and tenderly lifting them upward until both nipples peeked over the lace.

  With a moan he took one little bud in his mouth and laved it with his tongue, lashing and flicking, causing Cassie’s mind to spin, her breath to come in short gasps.

  She wound her fingers in his hair, holding him close as he moved from one breast to the other, letting the night air cool the wet trail against her skin while he stoked a fire already raging through her blood.

  Her hands moved of their own accord, tugging on his jacket and shoving it impatiently over his shoulders. Colton struggled out of it and flung it into a corner of the stall. It was quickly followed by his shirt, and she ran her fingers intimately over the hard, corded muscles of his chest and back. He kissed her again, his mouth molding over hers.

  Strong and lean and sinewy, his hard body fit against her softer flesh. The mat of dark hair on his chest brushed and tickled her breasts. His dark, stubbled jaw prickled her cheeks.

  His hands moved swiftly and without hesitation. Easily he unbuttoned her skirt and slid it, along with her pantyhose and panties down her legs, stripping her bare. Then, once she was lying naked in the straw, her breasts rising and falling as rapidly as her breath, he knelt above her, unbuckled his belt, slid the leather strap through the loops and let it drop.

  Her throat was suddenly desert-dry, and their gazes touched, locked, ignited. With one deft movement he slid his jeans over his own hips and thighs.

  Cassie had trouble swallowing. For years she’d dreamed of just this moment. Unashamed, she stared at him, his raw nakedness, the downy hair on his legs, the shadowy apex of his legs.

  Teeth sinking into her lip, she watched as he lazily lay over her, his weight settling comfortably against her, his skin fusing with hers.

  “This is the time to say no,” he said, swallowing, his voice deep and husky, one hand slowly running from her rib cage to her ankle and back again. “Stop me before it’s too late.”

  “I . . . I don’t want to,” she admitted.

  His gaze shifted to her face, then to the darkened corners of the huge room. “Oh, Cass,” he murmured, his hands twining in her cloud of dark curls, his face twisted into a tortured expression. “Why couldn’t I ever forget you?”

  “Probably for the same reason I couldn’t forget you.”

  His lips crashed down on hers, and there was no turning back. Their tongues met and danced while they explored, caressed and teased with their hands. She traced the scars on his shoulder; he trailed his fingers along the curve of her spine, and a dewy sheen of sweat melded his body to hers.

  The ache within her stretched wide as his manhood brushed against her abdomen and thighs, teasing, titillating, driving any last-minute doubts from her mind.

  Balanced on his elbows, he held her face between his hands and stared down at her flushed, sweat-dampened face. “I love you, Cass,” he admitted, his eyes burning bright with passion. “I always have.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes. His buttocks flexed, and he entered her, thrusting long and hard into the aching emptiness only he could ever fill.

  Cassie’s breath escaped in a rush. As he moved, she moved, too, her body responding to his rhythm, her mind void of all but this one, virile man.

  “Cassie, oh, love,” he whispered over and over as his tempo quickened, his thrusts driving deeper.

  Blood thundered through her head, and brilliant sparks of gold and red flashed in her eyes. She convulsed, her nails biting into his back.

  “I can’t—hold back . . .” And he didn’t. In a powerful explosion that was answered only by her own, he fell on her, his muscles straining, his voice crying out her name lustily.

  Collapsing on her, his heart thudding as wildly as her own, Colton held her close. The edge of his hairline was damp, his breathing hard and fast.

  Cassie wound her arms and legs around him, wishing she never had to let him go—and knowing that she would. Colton McLean wasn’t a man to be tied down, and she wasn’t fool enough to think she would change him. She fought a losing battle with tears and kissed him over and over again—afraid she’d never get another chance.

  Chapter Eleven

  Cassie had nearly fallen asleep when she felt Colton’s muscles tense. Instinctively she clung to him. “Mmm. What’s wrong?” she murmured, then stretched languidly.

  “Nothing,” he whispered, kissing her crown and levering up on one elbow. The barn was dark, but even so, she knew he was squinting, listening.

  She heard it, too. A horse’s low painful moan. Tessa’s mare! Red Wing! Instantly awake, she scrambled into her clothes, shook the straw from her hair and fumbled for the light switch. Colton found it first, snapping it on. Harsh illumination flooded the huge room, accompanied by the nickers, snorts and whinnies of the other horses.

  Tucking her sweater into the band of her skirt, Cassie hurried to Red Wing’s stall. Inside, the mare was laboring, her breathing rapid, her eyes wide. Cassie reached for the latch of the stall gate.

  Red Wing’s water broke in a gush, filling the air with the scent of birthing.

  Here we go, Cassie thought, her hands on the gate. If Red Wing could deliver alone, Cassie wouldn’t offer any help. “Calm down, girl.”

  But Red Wing, her ears flicking nervously, eyes bulging and sweat darkening her coat, moved nervously. Veins stood out beneath her glossy hide. She shuddered with the next contraction.

  “Come on, Red Wing, easy now,
” Cassie coaxed. Still, Red Wing paced restlessly. Cassie felt Colton beside her. “I’ll need clean towels, water and iodine,” she said softly as Red Wing moaned again. Cassie opened the gate and slipped into the stall. Gently, careful of Red Wing’s shifting hindquarters, Cassie examined her. “Steady, girl.” Part of the amniotic sac was visible, and gently, Cassie probed at the big white balloon. She found the foal’s nose and one foot. Only one. Not good.

  “Here you go,” Colton said softly, hauling the towels and water bucket into the stall.

  “I’ll need your help.”

  “Problems?”

  “One foot is twisted back on itself,” she said, trying to keep the worry from her voice. “This way it won’t fit through the birth canal. We’ll have to push the foal back in, straighten the leg and then help it out.”

  Colton rolled up his sleeves. “Just tell me what to do.”

  Gently, so as not to break the umbilical cord or the sac, Cassie nudged the foal backward, then eased the bent foot forward. The entire procedure took only a few minutes, but it felt like a lifetime. Fortunately Red Wing didn’t lash out with teeth or hooves.

  “Okay, now . . .” She guided Colton’s hand. “Now, when the mare contracts again, pull down, gently of course, to help the foal out.”

  He glanced her way. “Got it.” The next contraction ripped through the mare a second later, and both Cassie and Colton tugged on the tiny legs until the feet and head were free. An instant later Red Wing moaned painfully, and another contraction pushed the foal’s shoulders through. Once the shoulders were out, the rest of the foal slid to the floor in a rush of birthing fluid.

  The umbilical cord broke. Cassie quickly ripped open the sac and cleaned out the colt’s nose. “Come on, breathe,” she whispered, trying to infuse life into the tiny horse.

  As Red Wing hadn’t yet claimed her foal by licking it, Colton grabbed a towel and began rubbing its wet sides. The little horse’s eyelids and lips were blue. “Come on, come on,” Cassie begged, waiting for the colt to breathe as she slipped her hand beneath its nose and felt the first warm rush of breath from its lungs. The foal’s small ribs expanded, its huge eyes blinked open curiously, and Cassie wanted to shout with joy. “Isn’t he beautiful?” she cried, reaching for the iodine and dousing the colt’s umbilical stump.