The Cowboy's Honor

by Amy Sandas

  Her eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open. The pink in her cheeks darkened attractively as she glanced once again at his nakedness. “Of course,” she replied, her voice a low mutter as she brought her gaze back to meet his. “By all means. I’m so sorry to interrupt.”

  There was something provocative and mysterious in those eyes of hers. Something that had Dean clenching his teeth to keep his feet rooted to the floor.

  Why the hell didn’t she leave?

  “Do you plan to watch?” The degree of his present physical restraint had him practically growling the words.

  “Oh my God,” she gasped as she shook her head, sending ripples of fire down the length of her hair. “No. Sorry. Oh my God.” Embarrassment brightened her cheeks, and for a second, Dean thought he saw something intriguing tugging at her lips even as she cast a last wistful glance over his body. She finally backed from the room, but before she drew the door shut, she charged back in and headed straight for Dean.

  Every muscle in his body seized tight as she came up in front of him. A feeling like triumph flared inside him, but then she suddenly dipped to the side and reached for something on the stool beside him. Straightening again, she held up her hand, clutched around nearly a dozen hairpins. Her mouth opened and her eyes widened as she seemed momentarily stunned by their sudden proximity.

  He understood the feeling. He was a bit stunned himself. It was all he could to do to hold his breath to keep from smelling her, wanting her, taking her.

  “My pins,” she breathed.

  A strange and quiet sound rumbled in Dean’s throat. It was all he could manage at that moment, but it spurred her into movement. She spun around again and fled the room. The door slammed shut behind her, causing a small framed painting to fall off the wall. “Sorry,” she shouted from the other side of the door.

  Dean chuckled as he tossed his hat onto the bench and turned to step into the cooling tub, but it was a strained sound. Settling back against the slanted side, he sank down until his head was submerged.

  Unfortunately, a thorough thirty-minute washing did nothing to scrub away the persistent desire to have his redheaded wife join him in the soapy bath.

  Chapter Nineteen

  After his bath, Dean went to bed and didn’t rise again until well into the afternoon. He hated sleeping so much of the day away, but after the grueling week spent riding to the various slaughter sights with Randall in hope of finding some clues to the perpetrators, and then the anxious night he’d spent in the barn with Nettie as she struggled to birth the two kids, he’d been dead on his feet.

  There was also the fact that he’d been feeling the strain of his anticipated reunion with his wife from the moment he and Randall had turned their horses toward home. He’d ridden out in the first place because he felt a need to get away from her. Something about her presence—her sassy little smile, her quiet, searching stares, her unsettling scent—shook him clear down to the toes of his boots.

  It’d helped to get away. At least the thought of her was more distant, less immediate. And he’d had his concern over the slaughtered cattle directing his focus elsewhere. Unfortunately, he and Randall discovered nothing they weren’t already aware of. Nothing to help clarify who was responsible. The culprit was careful, that was for sure.

  Dean’s first thought as he awoke was that he’d promised Courtney he’d take her to see the newborn goats.

  Just the thought of spending time with her had his body and mind going into direct and immediate opposition. But he’d made a promise, and there had been no mistaking the excitement on her face when he’d suggested the outing.

  After fixing up a quick bite to eat in the kitchen, he headed out to find his wife.

  It was strange how it was easier to call her wife than to call her by her first name. Using Courtney felt too intimate when they still barely knew each other, and the term wife was—at least in regard to this situation—abstract and temporary.

  He checked everywhere around the house, but the woman was nowhere to be found. He checked the barn, thinking maybe she’d decided to visit the goats on her own, but she wasn’t there either. He returned to the house, considering the possibility he might have missed her there, but found no indication she had been there since morning.

  What the hell?

  He was reminded of when he’d had to search all over town for the woman, only to find her in the dress shop. Considering they had plans, he would have thought she’d stick around, yet here he was, chasing her down again.

  Surely, she wouldn’t have gone far from the house. The range was wide open and no place for a city lady to go wandering by herself. Montana’s plains were not like a quaint city park where she could just go off on a pleasurable afternoon. She could encounter any number of dangers, including wild animals or stampedes. Not to mention, she could easily get lost out on the plains.

  Then the image of the slaughtered cattle came to mind and, along with it, the acknowledgment that the most recent incident had not occurred very far from the house. He didn’t think she was in any explicit danger. The attacks had all been on his cattle.

  But they were escalating.

  Icy fear slid down his spine. His wife—with her wide smiles and friendly manner—would make far too easy a target. Would the culprit go so far as to harm another person?

  Dean headed back to the barn with long strides.

  After saddling his horse, he rode out at a swift lope, then realized the one place he hadn’t thought to look, though he should have. He redirected his mount along the narrow dirt lane to his brother’s house, whispering a short prayer under his breath.

  He saw them just as he topped the hill.

  The three women sat together on his brother’s front porch. They looked as calm and leisurely as on a Sunday afternoon.

  Unfortunately, as his fear dispersed, his frustration intensified.

  His wife—the crosswind that never seemed willing to do what she was supposed to—sat with a glass of lemonade in one hand, while the other hand was raised to block the late-day sun from her eyes. She wore a new dress the color of spring grass with a darker-green trim. Her order from town must have been delivered while he’d been gone.

  “Hola, Dean,” Pilar said first in greeting as he brought his horse to a stop in front of the porch. “Courtney said Nettie’s kids were born last night.”

  “Yep,” he replied without glancing away from his wife, his tone barely in check. “I thought you wanted to see ’em.” She tipped her head as she regarded his tense manner. That she didn’t feel the need to answer immediately only had him getting more irritated. He continued, “Either you want to see them or you don’t.”

  “I want to see them, but if it is too much trouble for you, Mr. Lawton, I can certainly take myself to the barn without your escort.”

  “‘Too much trouble’ is spending time searching all over for someone who should be sticking close by.”

  Her eyebrows lifted. “You said I was not to interfere with ranch business. You never said I was to be confined to the house. I didn’t know how long you would be sleeping. Was I supposed to sit outside your bedroom door to await your leisure?”

  Her voice was as cool as a cucumber, setting Dean’s temper into stark contrast.

  He was making an ass of himself. Again.

  His fear and the anger that followed were not appropriate to the situation, but he couldn’t seem to get them reined in, not when he still had visions of those cattle in his mind and the knowledge of just how dangerous the open range could be.

  Swiping his hat from his head, he hit it against his thigh and shoved his other hand back through his hair to get it off his forehead before he roughly replaced the hat.

  The woman just stared back at him with those calmly narrowed eyes.

  Jimena and Pilar quietly rose to their feet and went inside. He barely noticed them leaving.
He was too busy trying to get his temper back to an even keel. This was the second time he’d lost his head due to this woman. It was not something he wanted to keep repeating. But there was just something about her that got him riled up.

  In more ways than one.

  He owed her an explanation. And probably an apology.

  “The open range is not like domestic farmland or a city park. It’s wild and free, and any number of dangers can be found out there. It’s not a place for someone to go wandering about without proper precaution and knowledge of the area.”

  “I am not an idiot, Mr. Lawton.” Though her tone was level and her expression neutral, he detected something beneath her outward layer of calm. Something turbulent building in those deep, green eyes.

  He braced himself for one of her wonderful displays of temper, looking forward to the prospect despite himself.

  But she held it in, limiting herself to a sharp and steady stare.

  “You still want to see the kids?” he finally asked when it seemed she had more control of herself than he did at the moment.

  She nodded. “I do.”

  “Come on then.”

  Dean watched as she rose from her chair and started toward him. The breeze lifted the loose curls away from her face, and as she came closer, he saw that her skin held a golden hue he hadn’t noticed that morning, and a cluster of fresh freckles sprinkled across her nose and the crest of her cheeks. She had been spending some time in the sun while he’d been gone.

  “You don’t mind walking back?” she asked in a steady tone.

  “You can ride with me.”

  She glanced at the horse, then back to him. “I’m not sure…”

  Rather than get into an argument over the simple matter, Dean grasped her waist and lifted her up onto the saddle.

  Her gasp sounded in his ears as he put his foot in the stirrup and swung a leg around behind her. “Hold on.” He wrapped one arm around her waist and kicked the horse into a trot. The jarring motion managed to jostle her into a more comfortable position as she grasped onto the saddle horn to steady herself.

  As they continued down the lane, Dean wondered if maybe walking the horse back wouldn’t have been a better idea. The woman was too warm, too well-contoured to his own body. He could feel every inch of where her thighs covered his, her hips pressed to his groin, and the slim line of her back came up against his chest. Fiery licks of her hair flew against his face and throat in the wind, and if he lowered his head just so, his mouth would find the side of her neck.

  Dean clenched his teeth and squeezed his thighs, urging his mount to a faster gait.

  At least she’d decided to be quiet.

  It only took a few minutes to get back, and Dean rode straight to the barn. He dismounted first, then lifted his hands up to help Courtney to the ground. She sat there atop the tall buckskin, gripping the saddle horn with two hands.

  When she didn’t shift or make any move to accept his assistance, Dean tipped his hat back on his head to give her a questioning look. “You plan on staying up there the rest of the day just to avoid having my hands on you?”

  “What?” Her head turned, and she looked down at him with round eyes. “No. I, ah…I’m not sure I can let go.”

  “Why not?”

  She just stared back at him without answering. Her cheeks were pale enough to cause those brand-new freckles to stand out, and her lips were drawn in a straight line. Stepping closer, Dean noted how dark her eyes were, dark and scared.

  Shit.

  “Haven’t you ever ridden before?”

  She gave a small shake of her head, then stiffened when that tiny movement shifted her balance in the saddle.

  He was an utter ass.

  He never would have ridden at the speed he had if he’d known she’d never been on a horse before. Dean planted his hands against the saddle on each side of her hips.

  “Look at me, princess,” he said when he noticed her attention had shifted to the ground below her.

  “It is quite high, isn’t it?” Though her tone was almost conversational, he could see by the white-knuckle grip she had on the saddle horn that she was still frozen with fear from the reckless ride. She’d probably been hanging on for dear life from the second he’d tossed her up there.

  “Not too high,” Dean replied, dropping his voice to a soothing lull. “Just look at me. See, I’m right here, standing next to you. All you gotta do is let go of the saddle, turn toward me, and drop down. I’ll catch you, I swear.”

  She was silent for a minute while she seemed to be contemplating the situation. “I understand I am not in danger, I do, but my body doesn’t seem to want to cooperate.”

  Aw, to hell with it.

  Dean stepped forward until his chest pressed against the full length of her leg. She was sitting partially facing forward with the other leg bent and lifted toward the front of the saddle. He placed his hands on her hips and gently but insistently turned her until she was sitting sideways. As he did so, the horse adjusted his weight, shifting his stance just enough to throw her off-balance.

  She gasped. Releasing the saddle horn with one hand, she reached to her other side and gripped hard to the back edge of the saddle.

  “I’ve got you,” Dean assured her. Once the horse settled again, he slid his hands up to grip her hips. “Now, I want you to let go and reach for my shoulders. Then it’s just another second and you’ll be on your feet. Can you do that?”

  Her eyes fell closed. “I feel like an idiot,” she whispered.

  Dean’s mouth cocked up at the corner. “No. That’d be me. I never shoulda tossed you up there and taken off like I did. Anyone who’d never been on a horse before would have been scared outta their wits. I’m surprised you weren’t screaming your head off.”

  A scowl settled over her features, and pink entered her cheeks. The expression of proud indignation was far preferable to the previous panic. “I have more self-control than that.”

  “I’m aware,” Dean replied. “Ready? I’ll have a hold on you the whole time. Just use me as support.”

  She carefully and slowly released her grip on the saddle, then leaned forward just enough to place her hands firmly on his shoulders. In the next second, he lifted and drew her toward him, allowing her body to feel his, to recognize its solid strength and firm foundation. The moment her feet touched the ground, she released a heavy breath. The warm air from her parted lips gusted across his throat.

  Then, to his surprise, she gave a shaky little laugh as she tipped her head back. They were still pressed together from chest to knee. Her hands were on his shoulders, and his arms were doubled around her waist. The color had returned to her face, and her eyes had retrieved their golden sparks. The self-deprecating smile curving her lips drew his focus while the feel of her in his embrace fired his blood.

  He wanted to kiss her so damned bad.

  He wanted to know what that smile felt like against his mouth. He wanted to tease the curled corners of her lips with his tongue. He wanted to learn the taste of her while he discovered just how to make her sigh.

  “That wasn’t too hard,” she said in a relieved tone.

  Dean had to disagree with that. It was hard all right. Very hard.

  He couldn’t speak, and he sure as hell couldn’t seem to let her go.

  She’d have to do it.

  But she didn’t pull away. She stared back at him, with her expression going all soft and questioning, her lips parting, and her fingers pressing into the muscles of his shoulders. When her gaze fell to his mouth, Dean was finally released from the moment.

  He couldn’t kiss her.

  While she lived at the ranch and temporarily shared his name, she was his responsibility. He would be an even bigger jackass than he’d already proven himself to be if he took advantage of her like that.

  Even t
hough it looked as if she wouldn’t mind a bit.

  Even though he wanted to taste her so badly he ached from head to toe.

  He had more honor than that…didn’t he?

  He abruptly dropped his arms from around her, stepped back, and turned away. “The goats are this way.”

  He started walking, figuring she’d follow if she wasn’t too disturbed by what almost happened—that is, if she even realized how close he’d been to claiming her mouth with his.

  If she ran off for the house instead, he’d completely understand.

  Chapter Twenty

  Courtney watched Dean walk away, her insides in a ridiculous jumble and her thoughts all mixed up. What on earth had just happened?

  Nothing.

  Nothing had happened.

  But for a moment, it had seemed as if Lawton was going to kiss her. His eyes had gotten so intense and focused when he’d looked at her mouth. His jaw had tensed and his arms had tightened around her, sending delicious little thrills racing through her from head to toe.

  She’d wanted that kiss. So badly that she imagined she could taste it. Taste him.

  What would it feel like? Free and unfettered, like the summer wind? Or magical, like a starry Montana sky: bigger than life, bright, and wonderful? Standing there in his arms for what had seemed like a pause in eternity, she’d practically ached to find out.

  Then he had just turned and walked away.

  Shaken from the harrowing ride she’d endured, followed by the internal upheaval she’d experienced in Dean’s arms, Courtney took a moment to steady herself—at least on the outside. Straightening her spine, lifting her chin, and calming her features, she took a long breath, then started after him.

  She wasn’t going to miss out on seeing newborn goats just because she suddenly felt as if she didn’t know up from down.

  He was taking long strides around the back of the horse barn but at a slow enough pace that Courtney was able to catch up relatively quickly and without undue effort. By the time she fell in step beside him, she knew she appeared completely composed and fully recovered from her bout of fear, even if a riot still played about inside her.