The Cowboy's Honor

by Amy Sandas

  But it had been a mistake. A selfish move.

  Because he’d known what the morning would bring.

  Acknowledging his weakness, knowing the honorable thing would be to sneak from the room and leave her be, he still slid his hand over the curve of her naked hip and down the length of her thigh.

  The sleepy sigh she breathed fed his hunger and helped to drown out the grumbles of his conscience.

  She knew their union would end. She’d said it herself just the day before, with as much conviction as he’d ever heard in her voice. If things ended sooner than she’d expected, it would likely only make her happy. She would be free to move on with her life and finally leave the place she’d never intended to make her home.

  As soon as she was gone, he’d figure out how to find some peace.

  That, or he’d just do what he’d always done. He’d keep working—from sunup to sundown—and maybe eventually he wouldn’t ache for her smile and yearn for her laughter or her gentle, heated touch.

  Awake now, she turned in his arms to face him in the golden glow of early morning.

  Her eyes were only half-open and sleepy. She arched into him as she slid her leg up over his and brought her hand to the side of his face.

  Though he pressed his palm to the small of her back, holding her to him so she could feel his erection against her belly, he did not speak and did not try to take her mouth in a kiss, even though her plush lips beckoned him.

  He waited, somehow convincing himself that if she kissed him, if she made that move toward him, then somehow he might be absolved of selfish intentions.

  It was a lie he chose to believe.

  She stroked her fingers over the rough stubble that spread along his jaw, then used her thumb to trace the firm press of his lips.

  Her eyes met his, and her lips parted while she took a breath. She seemed about to say something but apparently changed her mind.

  Dean partly wished she’d spoken and was partly relieved she hadn’t.

  Then, with that familiar, lovely curl forming at the corners of her lips, she brought her mouth to his. Her kiss was quiet and sweet. It was an awakening and the whisper of a secret. He parted his lips to take that secret whisper for his own and met her tongue with his in a velvet touch.

  She rose over him, and he rolled to his back while the riotous length of her hair fell around them like a veil of intimacy, shielding their kiss from the light of the morning sun and the rest of the world. Her breasts flattened on his chest, and her heartbeat shuddered through him. Or was that his heart beating so hard and fast?

  With one hand, he gripped the curve of her buttock, holding her hips to his while he throbbed beneath her. His other hand slid up beneath the tangle of her hair to cup the back of her head as he adjusted the fit of their mouths to deepen the kiss.

  She moaned softly, breathlessly. Her tongue sought his, and her body shifted like silk over him.

  He took over in a burst of energy, rolling her beneath him. Her legs parted to allow for the weight of his hips, and her arms encircled him in a ready embrace as her spine arched toward him, seeking.

  When he paused to look down at her, feeling another stab of regret for what would never be, she returned his serious gaze with a warm and sensual smile.

  When he didn’t smile back, her expression tensed and her gaze grew wary. Her eyes darkened, reflecting the understanding of their inevitable parting, though she didn’t yet know just how soon that end would come.

  Dean’s chest tightened. Unable to find any words appropriate for such a moment, he followed the dictates of his body instead. With a roll of his hips, he slid his aching erection along the seam of her heated sex.

  Her eyelashes swept over her gaze, and her lips parted. She slid her hands up the muscles of his back until she could curl her hands over his shoulders. Dropping her head back, she tipped her hips in encouragement.

  Another roll of his hips, another glide of slick flesh, and another breathless, needful moan. The sound was the sweetest, deepest torture. It twisted through him like a silken rope, tying him in knots, ensnaring him despite himself.

  Finally, when the teasing caresses became too much, Dean slid his hand beneath her hips, holding her steady as he angled his erection to enter her.

  Courtney held his gaze as her breath stopped in anticipation of his possession.

  He took her in a slow, measured stroke. He was desperate to feel every bit of progress in minute detail, savoring the way she claimed him even as he claimed her. All he knew was her heat surrounding him—her gentle possession, her self-assured generosity, and the commanding pull of her gaze.

  He was lost.

  With a ragged breath, he dropped his head to press his mouth to the side of her throat, where her pulse thrummed steady and sure. He kissed a trail up to her ear, nipping sharply at her earlobe while starting a purposeful rhythm with his hips.

  She held him tight, meeting every thrust as her need steadily increased. Dean sensed her frustration. He loved the way her fingernails bit into his skin and her body urged his to a faster, harder pace. Despite her insistent demands, Dean maintained a relentless, building rhythm.

  Finally, she succumbed to her passion, and with a low sound echoing from her chest, she shoved at his shoulders until he slipped from her body and fell back on the bed. Rising over him, she pressed her hands to his chest and straddled his hips.

  Dean reached for her breasts, his hands covering their modest weight, his palms circling over their peaks. She gasped and arched, letting her head fall back so the curling ends of her hair brushed the tops of his thighs and her hot, wet folds pressed to his cock. His hips gave an involuntary buck and he groaned, deep and long.

  The movement and the sound drew her attention, and she looked down at him from her commanding position. Holding his gaze, she took him in hand, holding him as she lifted her hips, then lowered herself onto him.

  The sight of her taking him into her body nearly wrecked him. He ground his teeth against the rush of release, amazingly holding it at bay. And once she had him fully sheathed, she leaned forward with a sweet and wicked little smile. She pressed a kiss to his lips and rocked her hips.

  The shifting of his body in hers was deep and decadent. Dean released her breasts to grab hold of her hips—not to guide her, but to anchor himself to her as his control began to fracture. He was determined to stay there with her to the very end.

  But she seemed equally determined to make that difficult.

  Every deep roll of her hips, combined with the sliding friction of her breasts against his chest, sent ripples of pleasure down to his toes. Her lips pressed warm kisses along his throat, interspersed with fiery licks and nips of her teeth.

  When she finally rose up again, sitting tall and proud and beautiful, Dean was stunned by the sight of her. Her skin was golden in the morning sun, and her tangled mass of hair fell like fire around her shoulders and down her back. Pressing her palms flat on his abdomen, she moved—lifting her hips along his length until just the tip remained inside her before lowering again in a powerful act of claiming.

  He gave himself over to her. Holding on, letting go.

  His jaw ached with the effort to hold back his release as she moved faster and faster. Her eyes were tightly closed. Her body bucked and rocked in a demanding rhythm. Her breath became short and swift. She was so close.

  Dean smoothed his hands up her thighs and slid his thumbs over the slick folds where her body surrounded his. A slow moan slid from her lips before getting caught in midbreath when he circled one thumb over her swollen bud.

  Her eyes opened, heavy lidded and dark with passion. Holding her gaze, he circled and stroked until panting gasps slid from between her parted lips.

  Then her body tensed sharply and her back bowed as she ground herself down on him hard.

  Feeling the pulsing contractions
deep inside her, Dean finally released the reins on his control. Grasping her hips in his hands, he rocked her against him in one, two short strokes before he lifted her off him just as his pleasure burst free and he pumped his seed across his belly.

  She lowered herself to his side, resting her head on his shoulder as she tucked her face into the curve of his throat. He felt her body softening as the last echoing shudders receded.

  It took a few minutes before Dean felt he could move again. He wiped away the evidence of his release before taking Courtney in his arms. For a moment, at least, he simply wanted to hold her, feel her breath and her heartbeat, soak up her warmth and womanly softness.

  After a little while, she lifted her head to press a sweet kiss to his lips.

  “Good morning,” she murmured.

  Dean’s throat closed up. He had to say the words that would send her way from him. Now. Before he lost what nerve he still had. “I convinced Judge Wilkerson to file paperwork for a divorce.”

  She stiffened. All sensuality was gone from her gaze in an instant. “Excuse me?”

  “In town yesterday,” he explained. “It took some talking, but Wilkerson agreed to end the marriage ahead of his deadline.”

  Dean let his arms fall from around her, and she immediately pushed to a seated position beside him.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Now that the Kincaids are here, I figured you’d want to head out.”

  “I…I didn’t realize it would be so easy.”

  It wasn’t.

  Dean clenched his teeth. “Like I said before, Wilkerson’s word is law.”

  She stared at him in silence—her expression entirely inscrutable—for a few long moments. Long enough for Dean to tense up.

  “How very efficient of you,” she finally replied. Her cool tone chilled him from the inside.

  What had he expected? A passionate declaration? Some indication that she might have changed her mind?

  No. He didn’t want those things. He wasn’t sure he’d believe them. She wasn’t for him, no matter how badly he wished otherwise.

  She’d said it herself yesterday. The marriage had to end one way or another.

  Recalling the sound of those words in her unwavering voice had him firming his resolve. “I didn’t see any point in delaying things.”

  “I see,” she said as she turned and rose from the bed. “I don’t suppose today is too soon for me to leave?”

  Dean hesitated. He had to force himself not to rub the center of his chest where a hard knot had formed to press against his heart and lungs. “If that’s what you want. The divorce papers can be sent to you for signing.”

  She said nothing to that, just started pulling on her underthings and then her dress before she used her fingers to comb through her hair. All the while, she kept her face averted.

  “We knew this couldn’t last,” he mumbled, the tension inside him growing.

  “Right.” Her tone was clipped. “And you never wanted a wife.”

  He hadn’t wanted a wife and never expected to want Courtney. But he did.

  Still, none of that mattered if she didn’t want him back. “You’ll be free again to live the independent life you wanted,” he replied.

  * * *

  Independence.

  Really? Is that what she had been after?

  The word sounded hollow as it bounced around in the turmoil of Courtney’s mind.

  Truer words came swiftly to mind: fulfillment, confidence, happiness, love.

  The last had her throat closing up, and she bit hard on her bottom lip to distract from the pain spreading inside her.

  “I must gather my things,” she said in what she told herself was a steady voice. The voice of a woman with the strength to make her own choices and go after what she wanted.

  Even though it was a lie.

  She wanted Dean. She wanted a life with him. A real marriage.

  But she was too afraid to say it out loud. Not now that he had the power to crush her with his rejection.

  Refusing to turn back to see Dean lying naked in the bed where they’d just made love for the last time, she slipped out into the hall before she could say anything she’d regret.

  If she told him her true feelings, he would have to tell her his. And everything he’d done or said from their first meeting on the boardwalk had made it clear that all he wanted was to get back to the life he’d had before her.

  He wouldn’t want to hurt her, but if she confessed her feelings and asked for a chance at a true marriage, that is exactly what he’d have to do. Because he didn’t want her. He had never wanted her.

  God, she was such a fool to let her heart get so tangled up in him.

  Once in her own bedroom, she gathered a change of clothes. The house was quiet, suggesting that the Kincaids were still abed, but she likely only had a short time to wash up and put herself back to rights before the house became active.

  She paused in front of her window, where she’d sat so many times gazing out over the unfamiliar landscape. It was not so unfamiliar anymore. The morning sun bathed everything in golden light, but she couldn’t see past her reflection in the glass. Though her image was faint, Courtney could easily see the shadow of heartbreak in her eyes and the trembling of her lips.

  Seeing her own despair brought on a rush of deeper emotion. She made a momentary effort to hide what she was feeling, to tuck it away as her mother had taught her.

  But the mask no longer fit.

  With a rush of courage, she allowed herself to feel it all. The pain and sadness. But also the newfound strength and courage. Intentionally acknowledging everything inside her brought a sense of calm and purpose.

  She would get through this.

  It wasn’t so long ago that she’d left behind the only life she’d ever known. She could certainly leave Lawton Ranch with some semblance of dignity.

  Even though the two events were nothing alike.

  She hadn’t loved Geoffrey when she’d fled the church on her wedding day. She had simply been disappointed by the loss of an imaginary future. This time, she had to walk away from a man she loved with all her heart.

  She had come out west to discover herself and to challenge herself. She’d done both, and she was proud of what she’d learned in the last few weeks.

  It had never been her choice to become the bride of a cowboy, but if given the chance to do it all again, she’d choose Dean over and over.

  Dean, however, would always choose his duty to the ranch.

  There was nothing she could do about that. The only choice left to her was to move on.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Dean paused beneath the hot summer sun to drag in some deep breaths before he walked over to get a quick drink from the bucket of water he’d set by one of the arena fence posts. He’d been working all day with a new gelding they’d acquired, readying the horse for the vigorous requirements of life on the range, and they both deserved a short break.

  The hard work and the mid-August heat compounded to a miserable degree, but Dean welcomed the physical discomfort and mental stress. It kept him from thinking of other things.

  From wanting other things.

  It had been three weeks since Courtney had ridden away with the Kincaids. Things should have returned to normal by now, but that was not the case.

  Jimena had started coming back to the house to cook, but Randall had been doing more and more of the work Dean used to do. Dean allowed it because he knew his brother wanted to stay close to Pilar and little Emilio, but the truth was that Randall was doing a fine job with the administrative tasks. That allowed Dean to spend more time out on horseback, which was the only time he felt he could breathe.

  He glanced back at the house and immediately thought of the last time he’d seen her.

  After
that morning in his bedroom, he’d dressed and gone out to the barn. He hadn’t known what to say to her when everything inside him was resisting the truth he hadn’t been able to deny.

  As he suspected, she hadn’t wasted any time in getting ready to leave. He’d hung back, out of sight, while the three of them mounted their horses. Courtney was on Gwen, the mare she’d come to favor during their lessons. He would have gifted the horse to her if he’d had the courage to talk to her. But she’d ended up sending the horse back, only needing it to get to town, where she must have purchased or rented another horse to get her the rest of the way to Helena.

  He’d thought watching her ride away that day was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do.

  He’d been dead wrong.

  Every day since had gotten worse. Just getting up in the morning had become a form of torture. Everywhere he went on the ranch that had been his home and pride from the time he’d been a small boy seemed to be missing something vital.

  Her.

  Plain and simple, the place was missing Courtney.

  He was pathetic. Pathetic and stupid.

  Realizing it was too hot to continue working the gelding, he took the horse back to the barn for a good brushing, some water, and well-earned grain.

  As he strode back across the yard toward his empty house, he heard the approach of a horse and rider. He knew without turning around who it was. He was almost shocked it had taken this long for Randall to insert his nose into Dean’s business.

  Not bothering to stop, Dean continued his long stride. He made it to the house just as Randall pulled his horse up to the hitching rail out front.

  “Hiya, Brother. You look like you’ve just been dragged behind a horse.”

  Dean ascended the steps up to the porch, craving the bit of shade it provided, before he turned back to Randall. “I was working the gelding.”

  “It’s hotter than blazes out here.”

  “Which is why I stopped,” Dean replied curtly. “Now, have you got something important to say, or did you just ride over to annoy me?”

  Randall grinned. “You do know how I love to annoy you, Big Brother.”