by Sandy James
He was shocked no ranch worker came along to help get her horse ready for a ride. She probably had more than one—horses, not stablehands. The scent of roses followed her and drew him along as if he was a hungry fish teased by wiggling bait. He shook his head to break whatever spell she was weaving with the swing of her long braid above that gorgeous backside.
To see her go inside a stall, croon at a gorgeous black mare, and slip a halter over her head came as a shock. Sure, the woman had been hanging out wash, but she was the rancher’s daughter. Even though he’d only had a short look around, Twin Springs seemed prosperous. Almost lush. Victoria obviously didn’t need to work.
“Need a hand?” He plucked a stalk of fresh-smelling hay and let it rest in the corner of his mouth. Nasty habit, but it was better than smoking those God-awful cigarettes some of the other cowboys favored.
“No, thank you.” She threw a saddle blanket over the mare’s back. “This is Cleo. I raised her from a newborn.” She nodded at Matthew’s Paint. “He have a name?”
“Sin.”
“Why Sin?”
“’Cause he keeps me too busy to commit one.”
Her laughter was melodic. Delicate hands smoothed the blanket flat and then ran affectionately up the mare’s neck and down her muzzle. When Victoria grunted as she hefted the saddle onto the horse, a grin lifted Matthew’s lips.
Damn, but the woman was tiny.
She had the mare ready in no time. Before he could offer any help, she swung up onto the saddle, tossed him a saucy smile, and kicked her horse into a trot.
If this was a race, the woman was cheating.
He grabbed his stallion’s reins, threw himself onto the animal’s back, and followed.
“And there,” she said, continuing a story he’d obviously missed the beginning of, “is where we head out to the open range.” She turned to smirk at him. “I’d take you there, but I imagine you’ve already seen enough cattle to last you a lifetime.”
God, but she was pretty, near to taking his breath away. “Never worked a ranch before.”
“Then welcome to Twin Springs.”
Chapter Five
Grace stood at the stove, stirring something in one of the pots scattered across the surface.
Adam hung his hat up and frowned. “You shouldn’t be out of bed.”
“Nonsense. I’m feeling much better. I’m stiff from not moving.”
“Then maybe we’ll take a short walk after supper. Stretch those legs of yours.”
“I’d enjoy that. I’m really tired of being stuck inside.” After tapping the wooden spoon against the rim of the pot, she set it aside. “Victoria told me Daisy left.”
“On the morning stage. She went to be with her sister when she gives birth to her sixth.”
“Oh, my. Six?”
He nodded.
“I figured I could at least make you a nice supper. I owe you so much.” A glance down at her clothes fixed a frown on her face. “I shouldn’t be wearing your wife’s clothes.”
He turned her own word back on her. “Nonsense. They’d only be gathering dust and moths. It’s nice to see them put to good use.”
She nodded, but a frown remained as she turned back to the stove.
Whatever Grace was cooking smelled delicious. Daisy might be a good cook, but something inside him warmed at the idea of his Grace making a meal for him. “Daisy’ll be away for a couple of months. Before she left, she even hinted that she might stay there permanently.”
“Misses her family, I reckon.” A glance down at her messy hands caused a gasp. She quickly smoothed her palms down her apron then considered her faint reflection in the window. “I must be a sight. There’s more food on me than in the pots.” Picking up the corner of the white apron, she wiped at smudges of flour on her chin. She didn’t get them all.
Adam crossed to her. Turning her to face him, he put a finger under her chin and lifted until she glanced up.
She seemed hesitant to make eye contact, looking this way and that until she finally took a breath and let their gazes meet.
He could drown in those soulful brown eyes. Rubbing the flour away with his thumb, he watched a blush creep over her cheeks. The dark circles were still under her eyes, but they receded more each day. Her lips were the prettiest shade of pink.
He needed to kiss her or he’d lose his mind. Approaching with the same caution he’d use with a wild doe that had caught a dangerous scent, he leaned in. Slowly. Steadily. Waiting for any sign that she would run.
Grace tilted her head and stared at him with the most curious expression.
This woman didn’t realize his intentions. Had she never been properly kissed? She didn’t seem to understand what he wanted of her.
“Gracie?”
She hummed in reply, her gaze still searching his.
“I want to kiss you.”
Could her eyes open any wider? “You do?”
“Yes, darlin’. I do.”
The look of fright took him by surprise. No, this woman might’ve been kissed, but she’d never been kissed with affection. From what he’d gleaned from her nightmares, she’d suffered much at the hands of some man. Stephen was the name that haunted her.
Her trembling told Adam she needed to have control—that this needed to be a dance where, for once, he didn’t lead. Grace would set the tempo.
“But I won’t kiss you unless I have your permission.”
“You won’t?”
“No, darlin’. I won’t. Unless you want me to.”
Her head bowed. “I do.” Her voice quavered as her cheeks flushed darker.
She was afraid, yet she would conquer that fear to be honest with him. She pleased him more than she could ever know.
With a gentle lift of her chin, he leaned in. He was past ready to learn her taste, having fantasized about her kiss, her touch, imagining what sparks would fly between them when they finally came together.
His wounded bird would fly one day.
Thank God, he had one virtue—patience.
Before he could press his lips to hers, the door jerked open, shattering the tender moment.
Grace let out a small squeal and hurried back to the stove. She picked up the spoon and attacked whatever was in the closest pot.
Victoria came inside, muttering to herself. “Insufferable. Arrogant. Why I never—” Her words came to an abrupt halt when she looked up. Her frown changed to a knowing smile. “My apologies. I interrupted.”
“No,” Grace called over her shoulder. “You didn’t.”
“Yes,” Adam said, grinning at his daughter. “You did. Gracie and I were about to share a—”
Whirling around, Grace dropped the spoon. “Adam!”
He chuckled, as did his daughter. “It’s fine, princess. Looks as if it’s about time to call Matthew and Ty in for dinner.”
Victoria’s grin sank into a fierce frown. “Don’t even mention his name to me.”
“Ty?” he teased. His daughter had made her feelings about Matthew Riley as plain as the stars in the big Montana sky on a cloudless night.
“No. Him.”
An accusing finger pointed at the cowboy as he strolled in the door, passing the row of pegs where he should’ve hung his hat and gun. Matthew sat down at the table, dropped his hat on the bench, and threw Victoria a crooked smile.
“Matthew.” Grace dragged out his name like a mother scolding a naughty son. “You need to hang up your hat.”
“My hat?” He glanced down at the bench. “Why, I’ll be. I forgot again, didn’t I?” A quick toss landed it perfectly on one peg. “How ’bout that?” He winked at Victoria whose cheeks flamed in response.
“And?” Victoria tapped of her foot against the wooden floor.
“And what, Miss Morgan?”
“Your gun, Mr. Riley.”
“As I’ve told you a million times. Nothing comes between me and my Colt.”
A frustrated stomp replaced her tapping. “You’re insuffer
able.”
“And you’re bossy.”
It took all the self-control Adam had not to laugh. The couple had been at odds from the moment Matthew had been hired on at Twin Springs. In a matter of days, the friction grew as Victoria laid down the law while Matthew broke each and every one of her rules.
They were matched in every way. Stubborn. Smart. Hardworking. And the heat between them could keep the whole town of White Pines warm the whole winter through.
He should sit them down for a long talk. They were smitten, yet each seemed unable to express their true feelings. That frustrated attraction chafed them both.
Talking to them would be futile. They wouldn’t listen to him. When he’d been that young, he’d never appreciated sage advice, either. Besides, Adam had enough problems in his own love life. Victoria and Matthew would have to stumble through until they figured things out for themselves. If their little tortured dance went on too long, he’d try to straighten them out.
“Victoria?” Grace asked. “Could you please call Ty in for supper? Everything’s ready.”
Ty came strolling through the door as Victoria opened it. “Looks as if I won’t have to.”
The cowboy hung up his hat and gun before sitting at the bench next to Matthew.
Victoria favored Matthew with smirk.
He frowned in response.
Adam shook his head and chuckled, grateful that he wasn’t a young pup anymore. Too much nonsense, fuss, and bother.
Helping Grace put the rest of the food on the table, he held the chair for her to sit. Taking his own place at the head of the table, he bowed his head, expecting the others to follow his lead. A quick prayer was ended by a round of amens.
Ty grabbed the first bowl, sniffing before shoveling a good half of the mashed potatoes onto his plate. “Smells mighty good, even if it ain’t Daisy’s taters.”
Grace let the pleasure of the praise sink in. Would she ever tire of hearing compliments on her cooking? Not that the roughneck cowboys she traveled with were very forthcoming with praise. Loud belches sounded just as good to her ears. Appreciation was, after all, appreciation.
“Thank you, Ty.”
She took the bowl, spooned out a small portion of the potatoes on her own plate, and then passed the bowl to Victoria.
As everyone ate, Grace worked up some courage. Not that she’d ever been remotely brave, nor was there any reason for her to fear Adam Morgan. But she did. She feared him in a way she’d never feared any other man.
In the time she’d been recuperating from her fever, she’d learned a lot about him, and she liked everything she discovered. He was kind, patient, and so very tender when he took care of her. Each time he touched her, her heart leapt and a knot of need formed in her gut. He frightened her almost more than she could bear—because for the first time in her life, Grace was attracted to a man.
Not just any man.
The perfect man.
A man who would never approve of the way she lived. A man who would despise her if he learned about her past. A man who could break down all the protective barriers she’d constructed around her battered heart.
The time had come to run away again.
“I’ve decided to go to White Pines tomorrow,” she announced. “I need to meet Jake and find a place to stay for a few days.”
Adam slammed his fork down hard enough the dishes on the long table rattled. His calm, measured words contrasted his fierce frown. “I’ll take you into town to meet Jake when—”
Matthew interrupted, his fist hitting the table and jostling the dishes that had just settled. “Jake? Jake’s here? That’s why you came to Montana? Jesus Christ, Grace. You said you were searching again, but why didn’t you tell me he was here?”
“Because I knew how you’d react.” She focused back on Adam. “I’d like to find a place to stay in White Pines.”
He shook his stubborn head. “There’s no reason for you to stay in town. You can stay on the ranch as long as you want, Gracie. Besides, you’re going on my long drive. We won’t be ready to head out for at least another week.”
“I can’t stay here, Adam.” The hand she used to pick up an empty bowl shook. “I can’t go on that drive with you. I need to see Jake, then I need to go. I have to go.”
“Bullshit.”
She gasped. In all the time she’d been in his company, she’d never heard Adam curse beyond an infrequent damn or hell, even though she’d seen frustration clearly written on his face. “But I have to go to—”
“Victoria?” Adam spoke to his daughter, all but ignoring Grace’s words. “Would you mind cleaning up the dishes? Gracie, it’s time for you and me to take that walk.” He stood, grabbed her hand, and hurried her out the door before she could even protest. At least he had the common sense to grab her shawl from one of the pegs on their way out.
She stumbled after him until he reached the tree-lined road that led from the ranch.
He stopped long enough to drape her shawl around her shoulders. Taking her hand back in his, he led the way in a more leisurely pace.
“Sorry, darlin’. Don’t want you coughing again.” His grip on her hand was tight.
She should pull away. Yet they had so little time left together, and she so loved the warmth that swept over her whenever they touched.
They’d reached the end of the long path where it met the main road to White Pines before Grace found the courage to speak. She needed Adam to understand even though she couldn’t understand herself. She’d only known him a short time, but she felt roots already digging deep, trying to keep her grounded to this place.
To him.
She needed to run before the roots plunged too deep for her to ever pull back up.
As they stopped walking, she turned to face him. In the moonlight, his frown didn’t seem so intimidating.
“It’s time for me to go, Adam. I need to see Jake, then I need to be moving on.”
God, how she wanted to pretend this hadn’t all been make-believe. Living on a beautiful ranch. Reading to her heart’s content. Spending time with a man who seemed to enjoy her company as much as she enjoyed his. A man she could learn to love.
But none of this was real.
It could never be real.
She’d murdered a man, and her past would surely catch up with her. Nor could the rest of her ghosts stay in the closet forever, no matter how hard she tried to keep them jammed deep inside. Despite what she felt for him, she couldn’t let him know what she truly was. A disgraced woman. A person who’d left a helpless baby behind. A murderess.
How could she ever bear the scorn in his eyes if he found out all she’d done?
Grace shook her head, banishing her dreams. “It’s time for me to leave.”
“Why?” His hands encased hers, giving them a gentle squeeze as his warmth seeped into her veins. “Why do you want to leave me?”
The words wouldn’t come.
He leaned closer, those wise eyes of his holding her captive. “Don’t you understand what I feel for you?”
She gave her head a curt shake.
“I want you.”
Her breath caught.
“I’m going to kiss you now.”
Every nerve in her body tingled. Never had she thought she would respond physically the way she did to something as simple as Adam’s frank confession. He hadn’t even kissed her, yet the butterflies in her stomach were already beating their wings in a frantic flurry. Her heart pounded hard enough she was sure he could hear it.
He waited, his mouth inches from hers as his gaze searched hers. Knowing he meant what he’d promised back in the kitchen—that he would only touch her with her permission—made her feel powerful after years of utter helplessness.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, you can ki—”
Strong arms wrapped around her as firm lips touched hers. A simple kiss before he pulled back. She pressed her palms against his cheeks. His evening whiskers tickled her palms.
�
�More, Adam.”
A warm chuckle still fell from his lips as he kissed her again. The pressure built as he slanted his mouth over hers. Warmth blazed a path from her face, down her neck, and through her belly. It became an inferno when it reached the juncture of her thighs. She wanted to drown in the new sensation, to enjoy being lovingly touched by a man.
His thumb pushed against her jaw, drawing it down. Grace wasn’t sure what he wanted until she opened her lips and his tongue slid past them to stroke hers.
The feeling was so fresh, so foreign, she almost pulled back. But the more he caressed her tongue with his, the more she wanted him never to stop.
By the time he ended the kiss, her lips felt hot and swollen. Both she and Adam panted for air, deep and hard. At least she wasn’t the only one affected by the kiss.
“I don’t want you to go, Gracie.”
I don’t want to go.
Hard as it was, she bit back the words.
He tugged her tighter against him, and she laid her cheek against his shoulder, tucking her face against his neck. His scent comforted her. She’d missed so much in her thirty-five years. Never knowing the warmth of a man’s loving embrace. Never feeling the thrill of a real kiss.
How much more could Adam teach her? Could he make the melody he’d begun in her body become a virtuoso? Could he help her forget the horrifying memories and replace them with joyous ones?
He gave her a squeeze. “I don’t want you to go.”
“I know.”
“Then stay. Please stay.”
“And do what? Be your housekeeper? People will talk, Adam.”
“Let them. I don’t give a damn about gossip.”
Neither did she—especially among people she’d never see again. But he had to live here, and she wouldn’t be the one to drag his reputation through the mud. Small towns were unforgiving. Even if anyone knew she was at Twin Springs, her illness would be explanation enough as to why she’d been on the ranch so long. Now that she’d recovered, the gossip would start in earnest.
“Are you cold, darlin’?”
“No.”
“Then why are you trembling?”
She couldn’t answer him.
“We should be heading back.”