Western Winds Page 9

  Rafe chuckled with him. “Bear signs” were fresh homemade doughnuts, and a man would travel far and fast for some. His hand picked up ground vibrations, but Ragweed still stood, shading his eyes to see who it was.

  “Rider comin’,” he muttered, “but it ain’t a he.”

  A few minutes later Rafe found himself staring at a woman that had to be April Darcy. She reminded him of a delicate china figure, all blond, cream, and sultry blue eyes. Her stare was as bold as his as she walked a dainty-boned black mare close to where Rafe stood. But it wasn’t Rafe she spoke to.

  “Rather far from the Reina, Luke. Why?”

  “Trackin’ a few head that were stolen last night, Miz Darcy.”

  “And you?” she asked Rafe, gold-tipped lashes sweeping down to veil the sultry look that matched her voice.

  “Rafe Parrish, and you don’t seem concerned that we’re looking for stolen cattle on your land.”

  Soft throaty laughter met his accusation. Rafe’s eyes narrowed, and he grabbed for her horse’s fancy silver-trimmed bridle.

  “You’re a stranger here, or you’d know that Darcy hands stay on Darcy land.”

  “I say different.” Rafe heard her denial, but he never expected her to take a cut at his face with her quirt. He grabbed it, pulling her forward, almost out of the saddle. The grip he had on the bridle stilled the frantic prancing of her horse. April’s move was sudden to release the quirt, but she swept up the length of her reins. Rafe dodged the swing she made so that the leather brushed his shoulder.

  “Seems to me your pa should dry behind your ears before he lets you out alone, ma’am. I’ve got no call to hurt you, but you swipe at me one more time, and I’ll take you over my knee. Now, settle down. I really want to talk to your father.”

  “He doesn’t bother with hired hands.” April felt the heat color her cheeks at his smile. It was male and wicked and full of challenge. “Take your hands off my horse.”

  “Don’t take orders too well, ma’am.” Rafe knew he had not misread the curiosity in her bold gaze.

  “Then you leave me no choice. Pandel! Dryen!” she called, grinning down at him. April watched his reaction to the sound of rifle hammers clicking, the spare turn he made to locate the two men above them, barrels pointed at him. When he looked up at her again, April barely managed to hold on to that grin under his furious gaze. “Now, Mister Hired Hand, back off.”

  Rafe spread his hands high and wide and stepped back. “I still want to talk to your father. Maybe it’ll make a difference if you know that I own half the Reina now.”

  April verified the truth by the amused grins that Luke and Ragweed wore. Her own face flushed a deeper shade. “Lacey would never sell out.”

  “Didn’t say she did.” Rafe offered no other explanation. “You gonna order your boys to shoot or put their guns away?” he asked in a soft, warning voice.

  April could not control a sudden shiver. He stood there, unperturbed, his legs slightly apart, his dark eyes gleaming, a reckless slant to his lips. If what he claimed was true, her father had to know. A blind panic rose, and she quickly dismissed it. There was something dangerous about him, something that went beyond his rough looks, the tied-down gun, and the disregard he showed for the rifles at his back. She refused to forget the debt she had long owed to Lacey.

  “They won’t shoot,” she finally said. “But send Luke and the other one back to the Reina. We’ll escort you to my father.”

  Rafe quelled Luke’s muttered protest with a look.

  “What’ll I tell Miz Lacey?” Luke asked Rafe once he was mounted.

  “Why, I’m paying a neighborly call with Miss Darcy’s assurance that it will be a sociable one.” Rafe glanced at the two Darcy riders that joined them. His hand rested on the butt of his gun, and he nudged his horse closer to April’s. “That’s the truth of it, right, boys?”

  Neither man answered him. But then, neither missed his warning. April’s laughter floated back to where Luke and Ragweed watched.

  “Lacey won’t like this,” she said to Rafe.

  “I don’t account for my actions to Lacey or any woman,” he answered. But there was no smile to soften his words. He didn’t want to think about Lacey; he needed his wits sharp for this meeting with Darcy. Lacey had a way of clouding his thoughts. He shot a quick look at April, and for all her pretty lushness, he thought of a she-wolf, a hungry one. He had met her kind of woman in every town on the Texas border. She would consume a man if he let her. But he didn’t want April. He wanted a chestnut-haired hellcat. Time was all he needed. Time and patience would give him everything he had hungered after for years. And after touching Lacey, he wanted it all.

  Chapter 8

  “Are you sure I can’t get you anything else, Bo?”

  “I’m fine, Lacey.”

  “Then I wish you a good night.”

  “Lacey, think about Maggie’s idea. I know you’re angry with her and Fletcher and now maybe me, but, honey, if you marry Rafe, you’ll never lose the Reina.”

  “I don’t want to hear—”

  “I know. I know. Just a minute more. An’ don’t be givin’ me that crazy-old-coot look. I’m hurtin’ as is. I didn’t speak up at supper, but what they said made sense. If he dies, you get it all. Fine. But if he marries someone else and there’s a child, you’ll be forced to share. It’s a hard road Sy set you to walk. You’ve been battered like a windmill by a dust devil for weeks. Just don’t let temper and pride blind you.”

  Lacey nodded and left him. How could she explain to him or Maggie and Fletcher that Rafe frightened her? She wasn’t sure of the reasons why herself.

  She stood in the courtyard, bathed in the feeble glow of a quarter moon, and wrapped her arms around her waist. Bo’s advice weighed heavily, as did the feeling of being cornered by Maggie and Fletcher. She was being judged and found wanting by those she counted on for loyalty, by those very people she trusted.

  Her soft leather slippers made whispers of sound as she paced the length of courtyard. Rafe had earned the men’s respect by taking action. She couldn’t fault the orders he had given, even if she believed he behaved like a range-wild bull. Maggie wanted to mother him, Fletcher gloated with pride, and Bo thought he could offer her protection through marriage.

  What had they seen in Rafe that assured them he was strong enough to hold the Reina?

  The lone cry of a coyote broke the silence, and she paused, wondering if Rafe would return tonight. It was a fleeting thought, for she was unable to shake off the feeling of being betrayed. Rafe was simply a man. They knew nothing about him. Being male did not make him a better judge of how to deal with the threat Darcy presented.

  Luke’s version of what had happened between Rafe and April sent her instincts up in arms. Darcy would use any foothold to take the Reina. April was her father’s daughter, willing to be bait to trap the right man.

  And Rafe was a man.

  Alone now, she admitted there was a compelling maleness in Rafe that challenged her. She both sensed and feared a wild recklessness in him that called to its mate inside her.

  As suddenly as the thoughts came, she stopped them.

  Once she had given in to that wildness. No man would ever again use it against her.

  All she wanted, all she cared about, was protecting her land.

  She couldn’t fight April on her terms. April was soft and pampered and knew how to cater to men. Lacey valued her self-respect too much. A chilling shiver crept down her spine. That wasn’t true.

  She simply didn’t know how.

  “And I don’t want to learn,” she whispered.

  The scrape of a bootheel made her spin around. Lean and dark, Rafe stood, staring at her.

  “Waiting to tuck me in, princess?”

  “No. No, I waited to talk with you.”
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br />   He came toward her slowly, the dark of his clothes blending with the shadows. Lacey shivered again, staring at the soft buckskin chaps worn over his pants, defining his maleness. She backed away until she dragged her gaze up to his mouth. His smile mocked her fear.

  “It’s late. I’m dogged, princess, and you should be in bed. Whatever it is can wait till morning.”

  She brushed the loose hair from her face, stopping suddenly. His eyes watched her every move, every breath, like a predator.

  Rafe clenched his hands. Freed from the braid, her hair was a thick, curled mass that enticed him to touch. She grabbed the knotted tie of her robe, a robe of some soft fabric that revealed more of her slender body than it concealed. His own body began a slow, delicious throb. She moved back, and the spare night breeze carried her scent to him. He lifted his head, nostrils flaring as if to catch and hold it. The slow throb surged into his blood, taunting him. Weariness disappeared. Every nerve tensed. And he stood there. Waiting. Watching her.

  “Stop it,” she demanded, sensing the change in him.

  “Stop what, princess? Looking at you?” Rafe spread his hands from his sides and began stalking her. “I’m not touching you, am I? And that’s what you’re so afraid of, isn’t it, princess?” His gaze clashed with hers, instant black lightning. “So afraid of me touching you. Why?” He shifted to block her darting move toward the center of the courtyard, leaving her no choice but to retreat toward her room, visibly shaken.

  “Go to bed, Lacey.”

  His abrupt cessation of the game he started freed Lacey from her fear. “Don’t give me orders. I am not afraid of you. I waited to talk to you, and what’s more, you’ll stand there and listen to me. You can’t—”

  “Christ, woman! You never learn,” he muttered, coming at her fast to crowd her against her door, his fingers tangling in her hair, holding her head still. “Don’t taunt a man when he’s hungry, bright eyes.”

  Before Lacey could move or speak, his mouth mated with hers in a harsh, angry kiss. The solid wood door pressed against her back as unyielding as the solid length of his body fit itself to hers. His lips were savage, without gentleness, without tenderness. Lacey had to breathe, but his mouth captured her own so that she had to breathe with him and of him. The taste was bittersweet, possessive, and there was no way to escape the feverish pounding that spread through her whole body.

  She was too conscious of the pressure of his long, hard-muscled legs against hers, the feel of his soft cotton shirt against her palms, the ruthless claim of his lips. His hand cupped her hip, levered her up a bit, then drove her pelvis into the cradle of his spread thighs, the hot length of his arousal buried between them. Lacey stilled.

  An instinct of danger rushed through her bloodstream, her total awareness centered on the potent blend of darkness, the male rhythm of Rafe’s body, and the growing weakness inside her.

  His kiss offered no courting for her to open her mouth. His lips were greedy, impatient, as hungry as he claimed. Need, loneliness, and the feeling of being emotionally stranded these last weeks rushed into a response she could not control.

  Her lips parted. His tongue took every dark secret like a conquering warrior. He demanded total dominion.

  And to her shame, she gave it. Her arms rose, fingers testing the strength of his shoulders, and she arched up against him with a sob. His kiss would have her believe she was the first woman he had touched. The only woman he wanted.

  A tiny sane corner of her mind whispered that he would not make a gentle lover. Rafe demanded too much. He took too much.

  A sharp twist of her head brought a moment’s respite. Once again the rough spear of his tongue pillaged her mouth. Taken. Branded his. And quickly incited to fight a sensual duel as his mouth softened, coaxing. Her breasts swelled against his chest, full and aching. Tiny whimpers forced themselves from her throat, and there was an instant stiffening of his body against hers.

  Time hung suspended. She was afraid of him. His body clamored with need, but he lifted his head and eased the weight of his body from hers. Their breaths mingled, both labored, and through slitted eyes he watched Lacey, tempted to lick her bottom lip.

  “You taste like warm, rich cream, princess.” Her eyes, like those of a startled doe, lifted to his. He stroked the smooth arch of her throat, keeping her face turned up to him. “Since you don’t kiss like a virgin, give me your mouth, Lacey. Give it like a woman. You know what I want,” he whispered, sliding his hand inside her robe, one finger rubbing her neck. “Give it to me.”

  Her gaze flashed defiance at him. “No m-more.” Annoyed with the quaver in her voice, she lifted her chin. “Stop demanding anything from me. And stop threatening.” She prayed she had concealed feeling like an animal held at bay. The nearness of him, the male heat that lingered, and the raw desire in his voice were more than she knew how to handle.

  Rafe frowned and suddenly released her to open the door. Gently pushing her into her room, he followed. The soft glow of the lamp caught the fire glints in her hair, but Rafe found he couldn’t look at the swollen bruise of her mouth, nor could he meet her panicked look. Her cheeks were chafed from his night beard, and he rubbed his chin, sorry for abrading her skin. She could deny it all she wanted, but Lacey was woman soft. His body still ached to be buried in that softness.

  “So talk,” he said suddenly.

  “Wh-what?” Helplessly, Lacey shook her head, pushing her hair back, watching him prowl around her room.

  “You said you waited to talk to me. It’s about me seeing Darcy, right? He denied having anything to do with Bo being shot and running off our cattle. You expected as much. And he’s lost cattle, too. And I don’t think he’s lying. Everything would fit nicely if it was Darcy.”

  “You spent a few hours with him and cleared up years of trouble? You don’t know him. And it couldn’t have taken you this long to find that out.” She could have bitten her tongue once the words were said, seeing the corner of his mouth lift tauntingly.

  “That’s not a question a lady would ask. I’m not accounting for my actions to you or anyone.”

  “But I’m not anyone. I’m your partner, remember?”

  “Yeah. All right, I wasn’t with him all this time. But he understands that he isn’t dealing with you alone.”

  He was goading her and she knew it. They eyed each other warily. The thought of him coming to her from April set off a fierce desire to know that he had not been tempted to take what April could offer. Instinctively Lacey’s gaze dropped downward to the blatant proof that he was still aroused.

  Rafe grinned as she averted her gaze. “Remember, I don’t apologize. It’s something I can’t control around you. And to keep things clear, April merely made me feel, shall I say, welcome.”

  “Say what you want. It was all with her father’s approval,” she snapped, color flushing her cheeks. “You’re a fool!”

  “Am I?” he taunted.

  “If you weren’t, you wouldn’t have had to come back here ready to…” She couldn’t finish.

  “Ready to what, Lacey? Take you? Maybe,” he drawled, “I’m just a hungry man.”

  Threads of tension coiled inside her, hearing the soft, menacing note in his voice. She refused to acknowledge his remark. She didn’t want to think about what had happened minutes ago. Lacey took refuge by attacking him. “Don’t flatter yourself about April’s attentions. She wouldn’t give the likes of you a second look if you couldn’t claim a piece of the Reina.”

  “Would you?” he countered, soft and low.

  An unreasoning blind panic made her turn away. She stared at the fireplace, knowing she wouldn’t answer him, but she couldn’t lie to herself. Lacey closed her eyes, feeling him against her, an overpowering aura of sheer, rugged male presence that dominated her senses. “How can I trust you?” she whispered.

  �
�You don’t have a choice, princess,” he whispered from directly behind her.

  “You’ll lose all that Sy built and I’m trying to hold.”

  Rafe reached out, rubbing her arms, bunching up the soft cotton sleeves of her robe. “Trembling, bright eyes? Why? I haven’t touched you … not the way I want to.”

  She was dizzy at the way he spun her around, gripping her shoulders. The scent of him was male, sage and wind and heat. Her lips were parched. She licked them and looked up. His eyes were targeted on her mouth. “I want the Reina more than any man. Darcy and his daughter pose a threat to me. If you’re with them, you’re against me, Rafe. I’ll prove that if you keep pushing me.”

  With a little jerk he pulled her closer. “The only thing you need to prove is that you’re a woman.”

  She flinched at his soft, sarcastic tone. “I already have and found it painful.”

  His gut twisted at her frankness. His lips skimmed her temple, drifted down to her cheek, and then he let her turn away. “Who was he?”

  “It doesn’t matter. That’s all in the past, but I won’t forget the lesson I learned.” Lacey freed herself and stepped back. “You’re a taker, Parrish. I’m not for you.”

  He ached thinking of the ways he wanted to take her. His hand curled into a fist at his side. He would not touch her now. Not in a mood that was hot and savage when he didn’t believe he would be gentle with her.

  “Dream your dreams, princess. Soon I’ll be the only man in your life and the only one in your bed.”

  Lacey vibrated with fury. She waited until he had reached the doorway. “Don’t bet money on that. You’ll lose, and what’s more, you’ll be disappointed.” She had been goaded into the admission, and it hurt, but it seemed the only way to stop him.

  “Is that what you believe, or is that what Evan Darcy told you before he left?”

  “No.” She was still shaking her head when he came back to her. Lacey raised her hand to stop him from touching her again. She didn’t want to feel the thud of his heartbeat, but it pounded beneath her palm. She refused to measure the warmth of his flesh through his shirt, but that, too, seeped into her skin.