She put aside the book she’d been reading. It was dull, but better than looking at the walls. She went straight to her request. “I need some of my own clothes. Would you get them from the cabin, or send someone else for them?”
He sat down in the chair and stretched his long legs out, crossing them at the ankle. “There’s plenty of time for that.”
She gave him a long warning look. “I don’t intend to do anything more than sit in this room. I’m just sick of nightclothes. I can sit in regular clothes as well as I can sit in this.” She tugged at the nightgown’s long sleeve.
“Why go to all of the effort to change clothes when you’re still spending so much time in bed?”
“Are you going to get the clothes or not?”
“No.”
“Then get out and leave me alone,” she snapped.
He threw back his head with a roar of laughter. Relief poured through him like sweet water, as delicious as when her fever had broken. These two weeks of withdrawn silence had been pure torment, because the frail woman lying so quietly in bed hadn’t been the Dee he knew. This was his Dee, tart and headstrong, and he was going to love every minute of the next few weeks, with her totally in his control.
He got up and leaned over her, bracing his hands on either side of her hips. “You can’t make me,” he said. His eyes were alight with mirth.
Those green eyes narrowed dangerously. “Not right now, no.”
“Not ever. When I’ve cared to fight with you I’ve won every time. No matter how much you dislike it, I’m stronger than you. And this is my land; what I say goes. You’ll get your clothes only when I think you’re strong enough to need them.”
“I won’t ever get that strong,” she said sweetly, “if I don’t eat.”
He straightened with a scowl. She was herself again, all right. She was just contrary enough to refuse to eat, and her health was too precarious for that.
“All right,” he growled. “I’ll get your damn clothes. But I want your word that you won’t try to go downstairs by yourself.”
She gave him an impatient look. “I’ve already said I didn’t intend to leave this room. I’m not stupid. The only way I could get down the stairs would be if I fell down them.”
“That’s exactly what worries me.”
“Then you’re worrying for nothing.”
He glared at her, aware that she hadn’t exactly promised anything, but equally aware that if he pushed her she would only get more obstinate, and they would end up in a battle of wills. If she showed good sense in what she tried to do, he’d let her set her own pace, and the only way to find out was to let her do it.
“What kind of shape is the cabin in?” she asked.
He wished she hadn’t asked until she was stronger, but there was no use in trying to evade the question. “All of the windows are broken, the back door is splintered, a lot of things inside were shattered or are full of holes.”
Her lips tightened. “The bastards. Have you checked to make certain Bellamy didn’t run his cattle back in there?”
“He hasn’t,” Lucas said with certainty. There wouldn’t be any point in it now, with Angel Creek dry, but Dee didn’t have to know that yet. He wasn’t going to tell her until he had to; he intended to use the next weeks to spoil her rotten and bind her to him.
“Will you check on it for me?”
The anxiety in her voice made him feel guilty. He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Of course.”
He was so delighted that she was talking again that he was reluctant to leave her. He sat on the bed, talking and teasing, trying to make her eyes flash angrily again, until Betsy came in and gave him a shocked look. He sighed, chafing under the necessity of observing at least a semblance of propriety. He’d be glad when Dee was well enough to do without Betsy so he could send the girl home.
Dee set herself to recovering her strength, carefully pushing herself more and more every day. Lucas brought her some of her own clothes the next day, and though they looked out of place in the luxury of the bedroom she felt relieved to be wearing something other than a nightgown. It made her feel she was truly on the road to recovery. She hadn’t lied to Lucas about her intentions; she kept to her room, slowly walking back and forth, forcing herself to stay up for longer periods each time. As she became more active her appetite returned, and her face no longer looked so pale and drawn.
Lucas began to devote more time to keeping her entertained, knowing that boredom would drive her to test her limits faster than anything else. He brought a big selection of books upstairs for her, and at night he taught her how to play poker. To his delight she already knew how to play chess, no doubt one of the benefits of having a schoolteacher for a mother. Playing with her kept him alert. Her philosophy in chess was the same as it was in life: She was aggressive and determined. The trouble was, he could never predict which battles she would choose to fight or when she would simply use defensive strategies. They were so evenly matched that more often than not the games ended in a draw.
She had been at the Double C for three weeks when she descended the stairs for the first time, to eat a real meal at a real table. Lucas kept his arm firmly around her and his attention focused on each step, ready to catch her if she should falter. She gave him a cool look that said she wouldn’t let herself be so weak and walked steadily to the table with her head held as arrogantly as any ancient queen’s.
The occasion signaled that Betsy’s usefulness had come to an end, and he wasn’t sorry to see it. He suspected that she hadn’t been much use the past week anyway, that Dee had been riding roughshod over her. Little Betsy was helpless against Dee’s iron determination, and ridiculously worshipful. Every time she opened her mouth it was “yes, ma’am” until the two words ran together into one. If she decided to emulate her new heroine when she returned home, poor old Sid Acray would have the devil’s own time controlling his newly headstrong daughter.
So Betsy was sent home the next morning, with Lucas’s sincere gratitude for her help and generous wages in her purse. She cried as she hugged Dee and left with tearful admonitions to “be careful!” wafting back to them.
Lucas chuckled as he watched the buckboard disappear down the lane with Betsy still waving. Then he turned to take Dee’s arm and walk with her back into the house. “Well, sweetheart, you’re on your own today, so try not to get into any trouble. Orris is in the kitchen if you need any help, and I’ll be back this afternoon.”
She sighed. “I have to admit I’ve been looking forward to the solitude. I’m not used to having someone hover over me twenty-four hours a day.”
He looked down at her and smiled as he felt the familiar tug of desire in his groin. Tonight he was going to do something about it. She still looked so frail that a good puff of wind would knock her off her feet, but she was stronger than she looked. She was regaining her weight, and translucent color glowed in her cheeks and lips. He had searched through his mother’s old clothes and found a few light day dresses that were so plain they hadn’t had any particular fashion to date them; Betsy, who had proved able with a needle, had hemmed and tucked until the dresses fit Dee, who was wearing one of them today. The flimsy, pale yellow lawn cloth suited her, as did the way she had caught her heavy tresses high on the back of her head, baring the delicate nape of her neck. As soon as they were inside he bent and pressed his mouth to that innocently sensuous groove, and he felt the shiver that ran through her.
Her clothes weren’t all he’d fetched from the cabin. The little sponges lay in a box in his bedroom.
Dee felt his arms close around her and caught her breath in painful relief. She hadn’t realized how much she had missed being held, how alone she had felt. She had quickly become accustomed to his touch, to feeling his hard body warm against her, and the lack of physical contact had depressed her. He hadn’t even held her or kissed her during all the time she had been at his ranch except for passionless pecks on the forehead, and she hadn’t cared for those at al
l. Lucas’s nature wasn’t passionless, and neither was hers.
She turned into his embrace, letting her head rest in the hollow of his shoulder. “Tired?” he asked, rubbing his hand over her back.
“I’m always tired. I just try to ignore it.”
He lifted her in his arms and carried her upstairs, where he deposited her on the chaise longue and arranged a pillow behind her head. “Don’t ignore it. Rest when you need to. You’ll get your strength back faster that way.”
“I don’t have a lot of time,” she said. “It’s been a month. The garden will be overgrown with weeds, and everything will be getting ripe in a week or so. I have to get strong enough to work.”
He stroked her cheek, then let his hand drift downward until it covered her breast. “Get strong enough for this first,” he said.
Her heavy black lashes drooped. “You can do all of the work.”
“I intend to.” He leaned forward and kissed her, his mouth slow and hot, his hand heavy on her breast as he leisurely kneaded her. “But I’d like for you to be awake.”
She laughed, then sighed at the deliciousness of his touch. “I think I can manage that.”
He left her with a wink, and she closed her eyes, letting herself drift. With the night to look forward to, she had no intention of exhausting herself during the day.
* * *
Lucas rode over the pass to Angel Creek that day. His own land had revived with the rush of water, renewing enough of the grazing so that the cattle would survive; they were leaner than he liked, but they were not starving to death or dropping dead from dehydration. The change in Dee’s valley was painful. It was still green, but the vegetation was brittle. The sight of her cabin made his jaw clench. It had been such a tidy, sturdy little place, and now it was almost destroyed. The walls and roof still stood, but the wreckage of the windows and the contents testified to the amount of firepower that had been directed at her. It was a miracle that she had survived. If she had been any less of a woman, she wouldn’t have. It was as simple as that. She had seen to her own survival by teaching herself how to shoot, and by being smart enough to stay behind cover.
He walked out back to the garden and stood looking at it for a long time. The plants that had been so lush and promised such a rich bounty of crops had shriveled in the dry heat. Dee had worked so hard, and it had come to nothing, by his own hand. The creek bed was completely dry, and the valley was strangely silent. It had been perfect, and he had deliberately destroyed it. He would do it again, for it was the only way he could force Dee into a safer life. That didn’t mean he didn’t regret the change. Angel Creek had been special. Now it was nothing.
He had had Dee’s livestock taken to the Double C, except for the chickens, which could survive on their own. They had already disappeared, lured out of the valley in search of insects and water. The valley was abandoned, and the cabin showed signs that squirrels and other small critters had begun nesting inside. He looked in the barn and found spare lumber and nails, so he boarded up all the windows and reset the back door in its frame. Dee would be upset enough without finding the cabin taken over by animals.
The valley bothered him. He was glad to get back to the ranch, which was alive and busy.
20
LUCAS CAME INTO HER BEDROOM THAT NIGHT AS SHE was brushing out her hair. He took the brush from her hand and pulled it through the long strands, easing out the tangles until it streamed down her back like black silk.
She watched him in the mirror, her heartbeat settling into a heavy thud. He was shirtless, and the muscles in his torso flexed with every movement. He was so intensely masculine that even performing that very feminine chore for her didn’t detract from his virility, but then only a man as self-confident as Lucas would have been so completely comfortable performing it anyway.
She wore the filmy pink gown he had brought her when she had fallen out of the loft. The thin straps barely hung on her shoulders, and the low-cut bodice lay loosely on her breasts, inviting a man’s hand to slip inside. The fabric was just transparent enough to torment with what it didn’t reveal, though she knew her nipples were plainly visible through the cloth.
Lucas’s attention was focused on the mirror, and she watched the way his face changed, hardened, as he looked at her breasts. “It’s been a long time,” he murmured. Though the time could be measured in weeks, it had still been too long. He was beginning to think that even a day without her would be too long. He put the brush down and placed his hands on her shoulders, his rough fingers gliding over her smooth skin. He paused as he felt her thinness, the frailty of her collarbones.
Dee knew what he was thinking and let her head drop back against his abdomen. Their eyes met in the mirror. “This is the second time you’ve taken care of me,” she said.
“And I hope the last.”
She smiled, remembering how difficult it had been for her to accept his help that first time. But she had learned that she could trust his strength, and that had made this time of convalescence easier. If it had been anyone but Lucas caring for her, she would have forced herself to return to Angel Creek long before she was well enough. But he had said he would look after it for her, and she trusted him with her life as well as her valley.
She caught his hands and carried them to her breasts, closing her eyes in pleasure at the contact. “I won’t break,” she said huskily.
He picked her up and sat down in the big upholstered chair with her on his lap, her legs draped over the chair arm and her back supported by his left arm. “I don’t have much control,” he admitted, his voice a little thick. “If I lie down with you, I won’t have any.”
“Do you need it?” she asked. She gave him a slow smile. “You could always make it up to me an hour from now.”
He laughed roughly. “I’m trying not to tire you out too much. I’m not going to make love to you all night long.”
“Pity,” she said.
“Yes, isn’t it?” Slowly he brushed his mouth against hers, lightly touching his tongue to her lips. She slid her hand around his neck and moved closer, firming the contact. He obliged, slanting his head and deepening the pressure, gliding his tongue inward to meet hers. It had been so long that the onslaught of sensation was a little overwhelming, a little frightening, as if it were all new again.
Knowing that she was his, that he had the complete freedom of her body, went to his head faster than whiskey. He had meant to take his time, but the thin silk barrier over her breasts was intolerable, and he pulled the straps down her arms with two quick movements. She gasped a little as the bodice drooped to her waist, then she freed her arms from the straps and leaned back against his arm, offering him unobstructed sight and touch. He took advantage of both, cupping a soft mound in his palm and lifting it slightly as his thumb rasped over the nipple, making it tighten and stand erect. He pinched it lightly, enjoying the firm resilience.
“Lucas.”
“What?” The word was absently spoken.
“I don’t need a lot of attention.”
He looked up and noticed the color in her cheeks, the way her breathing had hastened. “It’s been a long time for me, too,” she said, strain evident in her voice.
He held her gaze and slid his hand up her thigh, pushing the gown high and baring her legs. When he reached the notch between her legs he expertly slipped his fingers in, sliding them along the soft folds. Dee’s body jerked, and she let her legs fall open. “Don’t close your eyes,” he whispered when he saw her lashes start to droop. “Keep them open. Look at me.”
She blinked, trying to focus, but her expression was dazed. He touched her soft opening and lightly circled it with his fingertips. She couldn’t help it; her head fell back over his arm as her entire body tightened, the heated sensation coiling through her. He let her lie back with her head dangling backwards and removed the support of his left arm, leaving her lying across his lap like a sacrifice.
She felt helpless lying like that, totally at his mercy. Sh
e was bare except for the nightgown twisted around her waist, and totally boneless, unable to sit up even if she had wanted to. He pushed her legs further apart, and cool air washed over her sensitive flesh, telling her how exposed she was to his gaze. She heard a low, throbbing moan and knew it was hers.
“Are you ready for me?” he whispered, and he slid one big finger into her.
She arched and cried out, the hot tension radiating from her loins in waves. He moved his finger in and out, stimulating her almost beyond sanity, making her writhe on his lap in helpless, mounting ecstasy.
She was like fire, out of control and rapidly escalating toward climax. “Not yet,” he said urgently, sitting her up and turning her so that she faced him, sitting astride his lap with her legs spread. He tore at the buttons of his pants. “Not yet. I want to be inside you, sweetheart, I want to feel you come.”
“Hurry,” she moaned, her hips undulating in search of the hot pleasure he had taught her.
He grunted as he freed his swollen organ and held it braced for her, his other hand on her buttocks bringing her forward, sliding her onto his shaft. She almost screamed at his hard, fierce heat penetrating deep into her. His big hands closed on her hips, and he moved her up, down, up again. The second downward stroke was all she required, and she was lost, submerged in the shimmering wave of sensation that caught her and tossed her in its upheaval, sending her inner sheath into spasms and making her soft muscles clamp down on him. He threw back his head with a harsh groan, fighting his response, but it was too late for him, too. He heaved upward, his fingers bit into the soft flesh of her hips as he ground her down onto his manhood, penetrating as deep into her as he could go, and his hot seed erupted with a force that convulsed him.
They calmed slowly, small aftershocks of sensation erupting along their nerve endings and prolonging the pleasure. Fatigue settled on Dee like a heavy blanket, and she slumped forward, her face buried against his throat, unable to move.
Lucas held her cradled in his arms. He felt pretty damn weak himself. He rubbed her back, luxuriating in the aftermath of release. “Dee? Honey, are you all right?”