Thirteen

Tom walked, unannounced, through the front door of the house and stalked toward the kitchen. He could hear the clatter of pots on the stove and smell the rich flavor of fried chicken in the air as he moved. A small smile drifted across his lips.

“Are you always in such a foul mood, Rylee, or is it just lately?” Tom stepped into the room.

Rylee gasped and the pan she was holding slipped from her fingers to crash onto the floor, spilling potatoes and boiling water across her boots. Like a long legged stork she jumped back, her arms flailing about as she watched the ruins of her dinner splatter on the floor. “What the hell are you doing?” she screeched. Her eyes snapped fire as she glared from the mess on the floor to his face. “I don’t recall inviting you in, Duncan. Get out!”

“No. We’re going to talk this out.”

“There’s nothing to discuss,” Rylee retorted. She knelt down to scoop the ruined food from her boots. “We said all there was to say the last time you were here.”

“Not hardly.” Tom glowered at her. “The last time I was here we spent it working, in silence, and then I rode out. You wouldn’t even look at me all day, much less talk.”

“I believe that says it all.” Rylee dropped the wasted food into the small battered bucket by the door and turned to glare at him. “There isn’t anything more to say.”

“Like hell there isn’t.” Tom crossed his arms over his chest and stared at her. His heart pounded as he studied her. Long hours of hard work were taking their toll on the woman. It didn’t help that the scars from being run over were still bright and visible. “You and I—”

“What? Had a moment of foolishness and stupidity? One that was a long time coming I reckon.” Rylee shrugged, her brow puckered and thoughtful shadows in her eyes. “It was a moment of weakness that won’t happen again. Now, I have a lot of work to do, so if you don’t mind, you can show yourself out.”

“Like hell.” Tom took the two long strides across the kitchen to Rylee and pulled her flush against his chest. “Call it another act of foolhardiness,” he muttered and bent his head to plunder her lips.

Tense, unyielding, Rylee pushed against his chest, her hands flat against his body. She held herself away from him for a few seconds before he felt the give. Slowly, muscle by muscle, heartbeat by heartbeat she surrendered. Her hands crept over his chest, to lock behind his head, her breasts pressed against his chest, sending a delicious thrill through him.

Tom groaned as her lips parted and slipped his tongue past to taste her. Sweeter than anything he’d ever known, he was lost as he deepened the kiss and she responded. Her tongue glided over his, danced with his. Each movement of her body stoked a fire in his blood, one that throbbed and pounded like a drum. Her fingers tangled in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. Soft whimpers of need escaped as they broke apart. He groaned and peppered small, quick kisses along her lips and her cheeks to her jaw.

“Rylee.” He moaned against her neck, his lips tugging on her ear lobe, drawing the pale skin into his mouth to suckle on. Trembling hands pushed at buttons, tugging, twisting the blue shirt from her shoulders to be tossed aside. The pale cotton of her camisole flowed from her shoulders down into the waistband of her pants. Tom stared into her gaze as his fingers untied the laces of the simple undergarment.

The steady throb of her pulse at the hollow of her throat echoed with each shaky breath as inch by inch the laces were pulled free and the material pooled around her waist. Slowly, his breathing as ragged as hers, Tom unfastened the simple buttons on the front placket of her jeans and pushed them down.

A crooked smile crossed his face when he saw the line of buttons trailing down the front of her undergarments. With a shake of his head, he tugged them free, and then shifted to scoop her into his arms.

Rylee gave a startled gasp and tensed. Tom bent his head and kissed her firmly, forestalling any protest. Their tongues dueled as he stalked down the narrow hall to her bedroom and kicked open the door.

Tom leaned over her as he gently set her on the bed. His knee sank into the giving softness of the mattress. Muted giggles and sighs filled the room as she struggled to remove his shirt and pants without breaking his kiss. Desperate to feel her hands on his heated skin, Tom reared back on his haunches and ripped the shirt off to toss it aside before he moved back into her arms.

Her hands traced over the skin of his chest and her short nails scraped along his sides, drawing a shudder. Calloused by years of hard work, her hands were slightly rough, but her touch was gentle as she clung to him.

He groaned as her lips trailed over the exposed flesh of his throat and shoulders. Moist and hot, her breath stirred over his skin, licking at the old scars. Her teeth scraped over his nipples, sending shards of heat straight to his groin, hardening it even further. The tight denim of his pants was uncomfortable, the confines unyielding and he yearned to jerk them off.

“Rylee, my pants.” He panted against her shoulder when she shifted, arching into his erection. The discomfort increased to near agony. “Get ‘em off. Hurry, love, please,” Tom pleaded before returning his attention to tasting the sweat that had cooled on her skin. His tongue laved over a turgid nipple. His harsh breath danced over the flesh, puckering it further. Rylee moaned into his touch.

She murmured a wordless sound of agreement, her slim fingers making short work of the buttons on his jeans before she pushed them off him. A fine tremble raced along their bodies as the jeans came off in a flurry of tangled limbs and murmurs of passion. Her hands cupped his buttocks, her fingers squeezing and molding his flesh as he exhaled a shaky, relieved breath. His hips flexed, moved against the warmth of her body. A whimper escaped both of them.

He shifted, his eyes moving across the pale, creamy flesh of her breasts, up over the tanned, weather-kissed skin of her throat to settle on the deep, passionate look in her eyes. The hostility and challenge he so often saw there was gone. Instead, she stared at him now with bone-scorching intensity. A slow progression of muscles and her lips tilted upwards into a warm, welcoming smile.

Insanity or no, he wanted her. His blood throbbed and boiled with the need to claim, to awaken the woman that lay beneath the shell she showed the world. He’d had a sample and now he hungered for more. His hands trailed over her sensitive curves, learning, teaching much as her hands roamed over him.

Silently, his eyes locked on hers, Tom waited. He watched to see how far she’d follow him. Every passing second tested his control. The heated moisture of her breath fanned out over his skin. She wiggled beneath him, desperation and desire at war in her gaze. He smiled softly. His lips touched hers tenderly as the sun stole across the room, casting a golden shadow on everything it touched.

Surrounded by a maelstrom of emotions and need, Tom shuddered when Rylee lifted her legs to wrap around his waist. Her head tilted back, revealing her throat as she arched into him. The feel of her moist core against his aching arousal drew a strangled growl from his lips and he shifted, easing into the warm acceptance of the woman beneath him.

Pulled by desire, he thrust his hips in a rhythm she accepted gratefully. Her soft mewling cries of pleasure filled the silent room to waltz with his soft grunts of pleasure.

The breeze that lifted the curtains and wafted over their passion-glazed flesh brought with it the mist from outside. Warm and moist, the mist laid a blanket over their heated flesh, joining with their sweat to form small beads of silver that coursed over their bodies.

Lips and tongues dueled slowly, taunting, thrusting with the silent rhythm of their hearts. Hardened hands were tender and soft as they caressed flesh untouched by the sun. Here, safe within the embrace of the soft sheets, there was no room for bitterness or anger. Here, they shook off the shackles of their feud and focused only on the pleasure of the other's touch.

~ * ~

Rylee’s face pressed against his chest as Tom stared out the window at the twinkling stars. His fingers traced idly over her bare shoulder as he listened to the evenness of her breathing. She shifted. The softness of her curves brushed against him as she snuggled deeper into the warmth of his embrace. He pressed a gentle kiss to her temple.

The sun had slipped behind the horizon before they’d sated their passion. Exhaustion had claimed Rylee, pulling her into a deep sleep. Yet his mind would not, could not, rest. The words of his men came rushing back. The thought of an unknown rider watching her house late at night terrified him. Whoever it was, he had no doubt they meant to do Rylee harm. If not, then why would they be skulking about? Why not go and speak to the outriders he posted?

He closed his eyes and once again saw the faint, familiar print in the soft earth and shuddered. No, he had to be wrong. There was no way that he would do something like that. But what if Tom was wrong, what if the man who was hidden in the trees was indeed the rider of the horse that had run Rylee down? Could he deal with the knowledge that he’d done nothing and he’d allowed the horror and misery to continue?

As Rylee’s arms tightened around him he sighed. Tomorrow he’d go up and take a look. Tomorrow was soon enough to deal with that mystery. Tonight, he’d spend wrapped in the arms of the woman he held.

Tom heaved a sigh and shifted deeper into the giving mattress beneath him. He closed his eyes and forced his mind to settle down. As he drifted off to sleep, the only thought on his mind was waking up with Rylee.

~ * ~

The heavy weight across her stomach startled Rylee as she slipped from sleep into wakefulness. She blinked her eyes groggily and glanced at the figure lying beside her. Guilt hit with the force of a steam engine as she realized that once again she’d allowed Tom into her bed.

Inch by inch, she eased from under his arm before she sat up. Her fingers clenched around the sheet that draped onto the floor. She wrapped the pale fabric around her body and rose to pace to the window. Through the sheer curtains she noticed Tom’s horse. It stood dozing with the saddle still in place.

A harsh word crossed her lips as she turned from the window to stare at the man snoring in her bed. The dark stubble of his beard contrasted starkly with the white pillowcases he snored into. His features slackened with sleep, he looked younger than his thirty years somehow. There were the hints of the boy he’d been in the lines of his face. Muscles relaxed in sleep hinted at the innocence of youth, of childhood. Longing hit her and she leaned against the wall. What would it have been like if they’d had a chance back then? Could they have made it work? Her hands pressed to her stomach and she stifled a sob of pain and longing as her mind played a picture of her holding a sandy haired baby, suckling him at her breast while she watched Tom work around the ranch.

Once upon a time that dream had been a big part of her life, but reality had destroyed it. Her father was a proud man and valued his land above all else except his family. Kind and open hearted, he’d been the first to open his door to a stranger in need, the purse strings to the church. He’d taught her that what came from the heart was worth more than what came from a store, and Tom Duncan had never learned that lesson. He’d ridiculed everything John Parys had ever stood for, laughed in her face, broken her heart, and if she didn’t stop herself from getting in too deep he’d do it all over again.

A sardonic grin crossed her face as she moved across the room to pick up her clothes. Ignoring the lacy bits she’d worn the day before, Rylee pulled on a pair of men’s drawers and reached for her trousers. Hurried, her hands buttoned them up and reached for her chemise.

Tom groaned softly. Bed clothes rustled a moment before he spoke. “You’re up early.”

“I have stock to tend to,” Rylee shot back. She cringed inwardly at the faint but distinct lost note in her voice. Ruthlessly, she tied the laces of her undergarment, and forced down the desire to crawl back into bed. Nothing good would come from spending the day wrapped in his arms.

“We need to talk, Rylee.” Tom pushed the pillows up and leaned back against the headboard. “You can’t possibly—”

“I’m sorry.” Rylee shot him a quick glance before her eyes skipped across the room to land on the pile of clothes by the door. “This is a mistake, Duncan; one I have no intention of repeating.”

“Why?” Tom crossed his arms, a cold, distant look in his eyes. He looked as immovable as a mountain, a very good looking, tempting mountain, but one nonetheless.

“Because I’m not prepared to accept the gossip mongering that’s going to follow when everyone finds out about this. I’m not like you. I can’t just go into town and do my business. The townspeople don’t want me there. I can’t open myself up to any more pain. Your men will remain, and nothing will change. I’m not—”

“This has nothing to do with what people may say,” Tom ground out. His hand waved at the bed. “This is between you and me. A man and a woman. There aren’t any tricks here. I’m simply doing what I can to—”

“Distract me from what everyone else in the district wants.” Rylee nodded, silently cursing the burning behind her eyes. “You’re thinking I’m going to get easier to deal with. I won’t. This is my place, my land, my stock and I’m keeping it. All of it.”

Tom’s brows drew together as he stared at her, a slow icy calm setting in his eyes. She shuddered beneath the weight of his stare for a moment before she turned to grab her shirt and pull it on. Her head bent, she focused on each button and tried to ignore the silent, simmering man still in her bed.

Without another word she grabbed her boots and stalked from the room. The sheer agony in her chest made it difficult to breathe and a soft prayer slipped from her lips, asking for the control to make it to the barn before the tears fell.

~ * ~

Tom pulled his knees up and watched Rylee’s hunched figure scurry from the room. Her usual graceful movements were gone. He heard the harsh panting of her breathing, even as he saw the white knuckled grip she had on her boots.

Pain ripped through him as he realized that she’d misunderstood his intentions. Once again, he’d been put on the defensive and he didn’t like it. His fists clenched as anger poured through him and he narrowed his eyes. “Damn it,” he swore and kicked off the blankets. A couple of quick jerks and his pants were pulled on, the buttons secured. He pulled his shirt on but left it unbuttoned as he stomped down the corridor and into the kitchen where Rylee was donning her coat.

“I’m not after your land.” Tom grabbed her arm and whirled her around to face him. “My men are here to help protect you from whoever is trying to run you off.”

“I’m not going to discuss this with you.”

“Ain’t that too bad,” Tom ground out. His grip tightened the more she struggled against it. “Someone is out there trying to run you outta here and you’re acting like it’s my fault.”

“It is,” Rylee snarled. Her teeth clenched as a twisted, bitter look settled on her face. “It’s always been your fault. You act as though I should be happy that you’re paying me a moment’s attention. Soon as the novelty wears off and you’ve gotten what you wanted, you’ll be gone. I’m young, not stupid. I’ve got control over all the water in this area. Every one of the ranchers and farmers depend on me for their water supply. Even you.”

“I don’t care about the water supply, Rylee. I could dig irrigation if I wanted to. I care about what happens to you.”

Rylee laughed bitterly. “No, you don’t. You’ve never given me a second thought. Not once in all the years we’ve known each other. Well this time I’m not a stupid, naïve child.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” he asked, bewildered.

“Let go of me, Mr. Duncan.” Rylee glanced pointedly at his hand on her arm. “I’ve things to do, stock to tend.”

“They’ll keep. I want to know exactly what you’re talking about.”

“Isn’t that too bad?” she said, mocking his words. “I’m busy.”

Tom narrowed his eyes thoughtfully at the mulish expression on her face. “Not that busy, Rylee. Damn it, woman, if you despise me so much, why would you let me into your arms, your bed?”

Rylee blinked at him, her eyes darkening with the shadows of secrets he knew she’d never reveal. His fingers tightened a bit more, determined to get the answer to his question, even if the answer destroyed him. Had she sacrificed her innocence to save her ranch? Was this nothing more than a ploy to get him to leave her alone? His mind raced with the uneasy thoughts and he swallowed against the rising tide of mixed emotions as the seconds dragged on. Each hollow beat of his heart reached up to drown everything in his head, until all he could hear was the steady throb. Slowly, increment by increment, he loosened his grip and stepped back. With each step his emotions shut down until all he felt was an empty void in his chest.

Tom swallowed harshly and turned to look for his boots, the desire to escape stronger than his need of an answer. He strode down the hallway into Rylee’s room where his boots lay on the floor. Dried mud fell from the leather and left a mess as he lifted first the right then the left to pull them on.

As he stomped back into the kitchen he saw Rylee standing exactly as he’d left her. Tom opened his mouth to shoot her a snappy comment but shut it after a breath. Instead he turned from her, slapped his hat onto his head and jerked open the door. His hand on the knob he turned to look at her, misery written clearly on her face. “The guards stay. Regardless of what you think of me, I won’t order them out.” He closed the door softly in spite of the urge to slam it hard enough to shatter the walls around Rylee’s heart.

Why it mattered that she’d used him, he couldn't imagine. There was no love between them, nothing sweet or innocent. No, they’d simply been tossed together much as two strangers would be. As he stepped off the porch and stomped to his horse, Tom glanced around. The ranch yard looked the same, but everything seemed different. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this time he’d lost more than a casual acquaintance.