Chapter Seven

“I still don’t see why you have to go!” Rachel insisted with exasperation, glaring across the breakfast table at Cole. She had awakened early this morning but not quite early enough to beat Cole. He had been gone from the bed, but she had found him at the table, finishing up his breakfast.

He sat with her until she, too, had finished eating, and for a few minutes Rachel had enjoyed the cozy intimate feeling of sharing this time together, of exchanging secret smiles when Lupe wasn’t looking, of acting very married. Then he told her about his plan.

“I told you,” he explained patiently, knowing that he was right. “It’s a long, dangerous trip. Taking the herd north isn’t something I can ask somebody else to do.”

“Why not?” Rachel demanded. “Other people do it all the time!” It was true. Very few ranchers traveled with their herds, preferring to stay home or at the very most take a train north and meet their herd when it reached its destination.

Cole didn’t answer, but she could tell by the way his lips had thinned down that he was angry. “And besides,” she added, “what makes you so all-fired qualified? How many times have you taken a herd north?”

“Twice,” he said quietly, shattering her argument.

Twice. Rachel could hardly believe it. Many men had gone on such a trip once, just for the excitement, just to say they had done it. Few men ever did it more than once, though. The work was just too difficult, too dangerous and too boring. Trust Cole Elliot to be the one man in a million to whom such things did not matter. Not only had he done it twice, but here he was, insisting on doing it again.

“Do you know how long you’ll be gone?” she asked sarcastically, not because she needed to know but because she wanted to make a point.

“I figure two and a half, three months,” he admitted reluctantly. This was a subject he was very unhappy about and did not want to discuss.

“Or maybe four or five months,” Rachel pointed out, revising his estimate upward. Any number of things could slow a herd down and drag the trip out to almost twice the usual length. She’d just gotten over missing him for seventeen days and the thought of missing him for three months or more was something she didn’t even want to consider. It wasn’t bothering him a bit, though. He couldn’t be thinking about leaving her again so soon if he’d been even half as miserable as she had. Last night she had been certain that he had suffered, but apparently, she was mistaken. “You’re going to leave me here, all alone, for all those months?” she asked in an injured tone, testing her theory.

Cole could have groaned aloud. Instead, he stood up quickly, his chair making a sickening scraping noise against the plank floor. He needed to cut this conversation short. Arguing wasn’t going to change the facts, and the facts were that he must make this trip if he wanted to be sure that Rachel would never want for anything again. “You won’t be alone. I’ll leave some of the men here and Lupe is here...” That wasn’t what she’d meant, and he knew it, but it would have to do. He was going, and that was that. The sooner she accepted it, the better. He only hoped he could come to accept it himself.

“It’s crazy!” she insisted. “There’s no reason for you to go!”

“I’m going,” he told her, his voice hard.

Rachel blinked. He had never spoken to her in that tone. It was the way he’d spoken to Statler that day in the restaurant, cold and mean. She’d never expected him to be that way with her, but apparently she had been wrong about that, too. Biting back her hurt and her anger, she simply straightened in her chair and glared at him. Arguing wasn't going to change his mind, anyway. She knew that from the stubborn set of his chin. No, she wasn’t going to argue anymore. She had other ways to convince him. She’d give him a little taste of her displeasure, and then she’d give him a very stimulating reminder of what he would be missing if he went on this trip. If that wasn’t enough to keep him here, then nothing would be.

Cole scowled down at her. She hadn’t agreed, hadn’t even pretended that she was going to, but at least she didn’t look as if she was going to fight about it anymore. That was something. He gave her a small nod of approval. “I'm going down to the bunkhouse to see how the men are doing,” he said, deciding that a strategic retreat was his best move at the moment.

For the first time, Rachel had a very disturbing thought. “Was anyone hurt yesterday?” Once she had learned that Cole was all right, she hadn't given a thought to any of the rest of the men, she suddenly realized with a burning shame.

Cole gave a one-shoulder shrug. “A couple scratches, that’s all,” he said, passing it off.

“You should have said something. Lupe has a salve... I’ll tell her to go down and check on them,” she offered, rising from her chair. Guilt over her thoughtlessness moved her quickly, and she was gone before he could refuse her offer.

Cole didn’t really want that old witch fussing around his men, but then he remembered that the other men didn't seem to have the same aversion for her that he did. In fact, now that he thought about it, they were always going to her for something or other, warts or boils or cankers. They swore by her remedies, too. Funny, but Cole had always thought that witches could give those sorts of things, not cure them.

Cole spent some time down at the bunkhouse, rehashing the previous day’s events with the men and assuring himself that Lupe wasn’t going to poison anyone. Along about noontime, the sheriff arrived.

Cole met him in the yard in front of the house.

“Howdy, Mr. Elliot,” he greeted. “Heard you had some trouble yesterday.”

Cole almost grinned. In the first place, the sheriff had not called him “Mr.” the last time he had come to discuss the trouble with Statler. That was a measure of how far up in the world Cole had come. In the second place, Cole liked the way the sheriff referred to the massacre of Statler’s men as “some trouble.” Cole had gotten the feeling that the town marshal was somehow in cahoots with Statler, judging from how upset he had been yesterday. The sheriff gave no such indications.

“A little trouble,” Cole affirmed, shaking the lawman’s beefy hand. “Come on in and set, and I’ll tell you all about it.” Sheriff Davis followed Cole up the steps and into the ranch office. The two men seated themselves in the same chairs that Cole and Rachel had occupied to discuss their marriage a few short months before. But Cole didn’t think about that. Instead, he studied the sheriff.

The man was big, as tall as Cole and twice as broad. He was also a decade older, and he’d seen too much trouble to be very concerned about something that was already over and done with. “I got Aldrich’s wire late last night,” the sheriff began, referring to the message the town marshal had sent him. “He said that Statler’s men were trying to steal your cattle. That right?”

Cole nodded. “They’ve done a lot more than that, too.” Cole reminded the sheriff about the incident with the two men who had ambushed him and Miles, and then told him about the incidents that had followed. “We knew who was doing it all the time, but there was nothing we could do until we caught them in the act, so we set a trap. They fell into it.” He gave the sheriff a brief account of what had happened the day before, and about how they had failed to find Statler but believed him to be dead and about how his men had scattered.

“It looks like you were in the right of it, Mr. Elliot,” the sheriff conceded. “You say you didn’t catch any of his men alive?”

Cole hadn’t said that, exactly. He’d only said that all of Statler’s men were either dead or gone. “All the ones we caught are dead. Of course, if you don’t believe me, you can dig them up, just to make sure.”

The sheriff responded to Cole’s grisly suggestion with a mirthless grin. “I’ll take your word,” he said. “I should probably thank you, too. You saved the law the trouble of hanging them.”

Cole nodded, and the two men studied each other in silence. Plainly, the sheriff knew Cole had taken the law into his own hands, but believed he was justified in doing so. The sheriff would give Cole and his men no trouble for meeting out their own vengeance.

The sheriff’s expression grew pensive. “You buried them, eh? A lot of men would have left them for the coyotes.” Cole had considered doing just that, but since some of the men had been hanged, he’d decided it was better to plant them. “I didn’t want to have to explain to my wife what the coyotes were howling about,” he said by way of explanation.

As if on cue, Rachel tapped on the door. She had been listening, of course, and had decided that the sheriff had pumped Cole long enough. She stepped into the room wearing her best finishing school smile. “Well, hello, Sheriff. 1 hope I’m not interrupting anything important,” she said, giving the large man her hand.

Both Cole and the sheriff rose when she came in, and the sheriff very graciously assured her that she hadn’t interrupted a thing.

“You’ll be staying for dinner, then, won’t you?” she inquired, her smile never wavering. Quite consciously, she stepped back until her shoulder brushed Cole’s arm, silently telling the lawman that she stood with her husband in everything.

“Thank you, ma’am. I’d be proud to,” he replied, returning her smile with one that was slightly envious at Cole’s good fortune. “If you don’t mind, I’ll mosey on down to the bunkhouse and ask the men a few questions first, though. If you’ll excuse me?”

Rachel nodded her consent, and she and Cole stood silently watching him until he was well out of earshot. “He seemed to accept your story,” she commented.

Cole couldn’t hide his surprise, and she gave him a defiant look, daring him to chastise her for eavesdropping. “Do you think there’ll be any trouble?” she asked.

He shook his head, as much in wonder as in answer to her question. He simply could not picture proper Miss Rachel listening at the keyhole. “Not from him. Aldrich wasn’t too happy, but I think that’s because Statler was paying him off to look the other way. He was a little too eager to think well of that son of a...” He let his voice trail off, suddenly remembering to whom he was speaking.

Rachel nodded absently, turning to watch the sheriff enter the bunkhouse. “I hope you told the men what to say,” she remarked.

Cole frowned and took her arm, turning her back to face him. “We didn’t do anything wrong, Rachel,” he assured her. “Davis is a reasonable man, and he understands that. We don’t have to hide anything.”

Rachel almost surrendered to the impulse to throw her arms around him and tell him she knew that was true and that she had never doubted him for a minute, but she remembered just in time why she shouldn’t. She was still mad at him for wanting to go on that horrible trail drive. As a compromise, she said, “I know you don’t have anything to hide. 1 just wasn’t sure the sheriff would agree,” and then, “I’ll go tell Lupe that we have company for dinner.” Reluctantly, she slipped free of his grasp, ignoring the way he was still frowning at her.

Dinner was an uncomfortable affair. Cole couldn’t seem to think of anything to say, probably because he was too busy watching Rachel. His attention kept wandering to their last conversation and the haunting suspicion that she believed him guilty of some sort of wrongdoing. If she did, then all the more reason for him to make this trip and prove to her once and for all what kind of a man he really was.

Rachel tried to cover Cole’s silence by being charming and witty, straining her ingrained manners to the limit. The sheriff seemed not to notice the strain, or maybe he really didn’t notice. At any rate, the meal was an ordeal that Rachel was glad to see end.

When the sheriff had gone, Cole went down to the bunkhouse to talk to Miles. He told him his plan to take the herd to Kansas.

“There’s no reason for you to go, you know,” Miles pointed out.

Cole bit back his irritation. After all, Miles couldn’t know that he had repeated Rachel’s objection almost word for word. “I’ve got to make sure that the herd gets through and that the money gets back,” he pointed out.

“You’ve got men you can trust to do that,” Miles said. He was watching Cole’s reaction to his arguments through narrowed eyes. Something wasn’t quite right here. The last thing Cole should want to do right now was leave home for the whole summer. This was his chance to spend some time with his new bride, something he hadn’t had much opportunity to do lately.

Cole got up from the chair he had been straddling and began to pace the room. It was his old room, the one he had occupied as foreman and the one Miles used now that he had assumed Cole's duties. “Don’t you see? This is something I have to do myself,” Cole insisted, gesturing with his hand, as if by doing so he could more easily convince Miles.

Miles observed his friend’s restlessness from where he reclined on the bed. He pursed his lips thoughtfully. “What does your wife think about it?” he asked.

“That doesn’t matter,” Cole snapped, telling Miles by his manner that it mattered very much, indeed, but that he wasn’t going to let that change his mind. Cole stopped his pacing, placed his hands on his hips and cast Miles a beseeching look. “This is her cattle, her money. If anything happens to it...” He paused, waiting to see if Miles understood.

He did, but he understood more than that. “Maybe she wouldn’t be too happy if something happened to you, either. Did you ever think of that?”

“Nothing’s going to happen to me,” Cole said, dismissing such a possibility with a wave of his hand and beginning to pace again. “And it’s my job to take care of her and to take care of the ranch, isn’t it?”

Miles frowned. “I wouldn’t exactly call being married a ‘job.’”

“You know what I mean,” Cole insisted.

Miles’s frown deepened. He had been so sure that things were finally working out between Cole and Miss Rachel. The tension he had sensed between them in the early days was gone now, and he knew that Cole worshiped the ground she walked on. She liked him, too. Just how much, Miles had no way of judging, but he’d seen her look at Cole with affection from time to time. Cole was a likable person, once you got past that tough front that he always put up, and Miles guessed that Miss Rachel had finally gotten past it. Cole had certainly won her loyalty, or should have, by whipping Statler, too. But for some reason Cole still felt like he had to prove himself to her. Miles wondered whether he really did.

“It’s part of your job to protect her, too,” Miles pointed out. “Some of Statler’s men might still be around, just waiting for a chance to get a little revenge. Leaving her here alone would give them a perfect opportunity.”

“Not if I leave you here, too,” Cole said. Seeing Miles’s slight surprise, he added, “Nobody will bother her with you here. Hell, she’ll be safer with you than with me, and you know it.”

A shadow clouded Miles’s eyes, blanking them of all expression for a moment, and Cole was instantly repentant. By unspoken agreement, Cole had never mentioned Miles’s reputation, knowing the pain it caused him. “Hey, amigo,” he said. “I didn’t mean to...”

“Forget it,” Miles said. He even smiled reassuringly, but the smile did not quite reach the sadness in his eyes. “You’re right, as usual, but somehow I don’t think Miss Rachel will see things the same way. Given a choice between her husband—her handsome, young husband,” he added in a friendly attempt to goad Cole, “and a dried-up old man to be a nursemaid, 1 don’t think she’d pick me.”

“She won’t have a choice,” Cole declared.

Miles wasn’t so sure.

Cole glanced up from where he sat, but when he saw that Rachel still had her nose stuck in that book, he went back to work again. All evening he’d been busily plaiting a handle for a new quirt, a job that required a lot of attention and one he had chosen when he saw the mood that Rachel was in at supper. That way he could pretend he was too busy to notice that she was ignoring him.

She was still mad about him going to Kansas. He’d figured that out from the few remarks she had made during the meal. He was flattered that she didn’t want him to go, but he kept reminding himself of how important this trip was to the future of the ranch. She might not like the idea, but that was just because she didn’t understand. He was the man, and he had to do what he knew was in her best interest whether she liked it or not.

Still, he didn’t like sitting here like this. All evening she’d been as quiet as a gopher with its throat cut. Of course, he didn’t like arguing with her either, but this was somehow worse. At least if they were fighting, there was a chance that they’d end up in each other’s arms. This way, he might as well still be out on the range.

The slap of her book closing brought his head up. Without looking at him, she set the book aside and rose to her feet, straightening her dress as she did so. He couldn’t help but notice the way it clung to her breasts.

Rachel tried not to notice the look in his eyes. When he looked at her like that, the hairs on the back of her neck prickle and gooseflesh formed on the backs of her legs and she wanted to throw herself into his arms. That would never do, however. She had her plan, and her plan was to make him sleep alone tonight. He had to learn the price of earning her displeasure. Tomorrow would be the second part of her plan. Tomorrow, when she had made her point, she would sleep with him and show him what he’d be missing if he went to Kansas.

“I guess I’ll go to bed now,” she said in a carefully neutral voice.

Instantly, Cole laid the quirt aside and stood up, ready to follow her. This was what he’d been waiting for. She might not be talking to him, but she didn’t need to say a word for what he had in mind.

Seeing him rise, Rachel threw him a haughty look that stopped him in his tracks. While he hesitated, she turned on her heel and flounced to her bedroom door, almost daring him to try to follow.

Cole’s eyes narrowed down. What in the hell was she up to? “Rachel?” he said sharply.

She turned back, her hand on the knob, a look of polite inquiry on her face. She waited, hoping he could not guess how fragile was her facade. Behind her calm, detached expression, her heart was pounding. Did she really have the strength to refuse him? Her confidence evaporated as he closed the distance between them with purposeful strides.

“I’m really very tired,” she said, lifting her chin to give the impression that she was looking down her nose at him. No mean feat, considering he was almost a foot taller than she.

Cole knew good and well she wasn’t tired. She was just mad. He could see the anger simmering in the depths of her brown eyes. With the proper encouragement, she would be hissing and spitting at him, and that was exactly what he wanted. While he didn’t know what to do with this cold, aloof Rachel, he knew exactly how to handle the hellcat. “Are you too tired for this?” he asked, hauling her into his arms.

Rachel’s reaction was immediate. The instant his lips covered hers in a devouring kiss, every nerve in her body leaped to attention. She curled her hands into fists in a desperate attempt to keep them from reaching for him. Using every ounce of willpower she possessed, she forced her body to remain limp, forced her lips not to kiss him back, forced every one of her senses not to be overwhelmed by the feel and smell of him, forced her brain to remember her plan. If she gave in now, he would never take her seriously again.

After what seemed an eternity, he finally lifted his mouth from hers. His breath was ragged and she could feel the heat of his desire pressed tightly against her hips. His blue eyes searched her face for reaction.

Praying that he would not notice how her nipples had tautened, that he would not read the longing in her eyes, that he would not sense her trembling need, she drew a steadying breath. “Good night,” she said with as much finality as she could muster.

Cole swore in frustration. What in the hell was wrong with her? His hands tightened on her arms as he fought off the impulse to shake that impassive expression off her face. “Rachel,” he muttered in warning even as he pulled her close for another assault.

But Rachel knew her limit. If she allowed him to kiss her again, no matter how furiously, she would be lost. She turned her face so that his lips came down on her clenched jaw. “I said I was tired,” Rachel reminded him hoarsely. “Are you going to take me against my will?”

That did it. Cole recoiled as if she’d struck him. Using the one moment of his stunned surprise, Rachel broke free and escaped into her room, slamming the door behind her. For long minutes, she sagged against it, expecting to hear the sound of splintering wood or muttered curses or shouted fury. Instead, she heard nothing except the gasp of her own breath and the thundering of her own heart. At long last, even those sounds settled down to normal, and Rachel felt the tension drain from her. She had won. She would not acknowledge that the victory felt a little hollow. Tomorrow, she would make it all up to him, anyway, and then he would understand the price he would be paying if he left her. She would have him just where she wanted him. And how she wanted him! Trembling in the aftermath of her own desire, Rachel stumbled over to her bed. She only wished she could sleep until it was time to go to bed again—with Cole. How would she live through tomorrow?

Cole stared at the closed door for a long time, his whole body shaking with rage. Take her against her will? Where had she ever come up with an idea like that? How many nights had he lain alone in his own room, suffering the torments of hell because he couldn’t do that very thing? He had half a mind to break down the door and tell her that, too, except that he realized how idiotic he would sound if he did so.

Damn her. What a fool he’d been to think that she was any different from all the others. Why, he’d even deluded himself into believing that she cared for him, that she shared his bed because she enjoyed it. No, it was just like he’d suspected in the very beginning. She gave him what she knew he wanted to keep him around, but she’d cut him off the minute he did something to displease her. Or maybe she’d just decided she didn’t like sleeping with a gunfighter, he thought bitterly.

Turning on his heel, Cole strode across the room to the cabinet where the whiskey was stored. He muttered a curse when he threw open the door and found the bottle was gone. Then he remembered. It was in his room. Rachel had brought it to him last night, last night when she’d been all sweetness and light.

And gratitude. Yes, she sure knew how to show gratitude, he recalled bitterly as he closed the cabinet with a snap. Cole muttered another, very satisfying obscenity, and strode into his own room. Resisting the urge to slam his own door, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of knowing how furious he was, he looked around for the bottle Rachel had brought him last night, the bottle he hadn’t wanted then. Tonight was different.

Rachel had no trouble sleeping late the next morning. She hadn’t even closed her eyes until the wee hours and then had slept fitfully, tormented by dreams that Cole had forced his way into her room and demanded his rights. She had been terribly disappointed to discover they were only dreams.

Rachel was already having second thoughts, wondering if her plan had been wise, when she wandered out to breakfast. Lupe brought her a heaping plate of flapjacks.

“He is gone,” Lupe informed her.

Rachel dug into the flapjacks without even looking up. “I figured he would be. Just wait until he gets back tonight, though,” she advised the old woman, silently wishing away the hours in between.

“He not be back.”

Lupe started to shuffle away, but Rachel’s startled “What?” drew her back.

“He say he be gone a while. He roundup again. The other men go with him,” Lupe explained.

“He can’t do that!” Rachel cried, jumping to her feet and knocking over her chair in the process.

Lupe watched her with barely disguised amusement. “He do it.”

“Oh, Lupe, that man is impossible!” Rachel declared, righting her chair with furious motions. And then the pain set in. He hadn’t even waited to say goodbye. Suddenly, Rachel began to have serious regrets about her plan.

“Si, impossible,” Lupe agreed sagely.

“Do you know what he’s going to do?” Rachel asked, numbly seating herself in her chair again and not even noticing that Lupe nodded. “He’s going to round up that herd again and take it all the way to Kansas. He’s going to take it himself, when he’s got a bunkhouse full of able-bodied men who could do it for him. Did you ever hear of anything so ridiculous?” she demanded in despair.

“Do you tell him to stay?”

“Of course I did,” Rachel insisted, “But he’s the most stubborn man alive. He’s made up his mind, and he won’t listen to reason.”

“You can make him stay,” Lupe suggested mildly. “Tell him.”

Tell him. The words seemed to echo through Rachel’s mind. Yes, she could tell him her secret. That would do it, that would keep him here for sure. Or would it? She wasn’t even really certain about that when she remembered the way he had left her this morning without a word. She laid a protective hand over her abdomen. “No, I can’t.”

Lupe mumbled something disapproving.

Rachel’s head came up defiantly. “What if I told him and he still didn’t stay? Besides, if he won’t stay because of me, then I don’t want him to stay for any other reason.”

Lupe clicked her tongue. “Stubborn man, stubborn woman.” Rachel glared at her, but she ignored it. “Eat,” the old woman commanded, pointing a bony finger at the plate.

Rachel was no longer hungry, but she dutifully began to put food into her mouth and chew and swallow it. “Did he say how long he’d be gone?” she asked, vaguely regretting how important the answer would be to her.

“Two week. Maybe three. He not sure,” Lupe said.

Rachel gagged down another mouthful, even though the flapjacks now tasted like sawdust to her. Two weeks. Knowing Cole, he wouldn’t come home until the roundup was finished, either, and then he’d be gone for three months. That meant she’d probably only see him one more time before he left. She blinked against the sting of tears.

Where had she gone wrong? Lupe had promised her that he would love her once they had made love, but Lupe had been wrong. Oh, he liked making love, but that was obviously not enough. She had been a fool to give her heart to a man who didn’t love her back. The only problem was that realizing it too late didn’t help a bit. And it was too late, far too late to do anything about it.

Cole rode slowly into the ranch yard, forcing himself not to hurry, not to let on how anxious he was to get home. They had made the gather in record time, one day short of two weeks, but still they would be getting a late start. It was already May and that meant that if they lost any time at all on the trail, they might be among the last herds to arrive in Dodge City. The men were holding the herd nearby, and in the morning they would head north. Tonight, though, he would be with Rachel.

Just thinking about it made his mouth go dry. During the long days and nights of the roundup, he had spent a lot of time thinking about her, trying to figure her out. Although he had not been able to do so, he had somehow managed to forget how furious he was with her and remember only how wonderful she was. But furious or not, he couldn’t recall ever feeling like this before about another woman. He’d known several, through the years, who had held his interest for a period of time, several whom he had always looked forward to seeing, but he had never felt exactly this way before. It had something to do with Rachel being Rachel, he knew. Sometimes he wondered if the old witch hadn’t put a spell on him or something. All he was really certain of was that he was going to have a hell of a time riding away from here in the morning, no matter what kind of a greeting Rachel gave him tonight.

Looking around the neat ranch yard, Cole observed that he also had a feeling for the place that had nothing to do with Rachel at all, a feeling of peace that a man gets only when he knows he has come home. He had experienced that peace the first time he had ever laid eyes on the ranch, even before he’d accepted a job from Mr. McKinsey. It was almost like he’d known that this, of all the places he had ever been, was the one where he would finally settle. Cole sighed, reflecting that he wasn’t ever likely to be more settled than he was now.

Rachel was in the kitchen, up to her elbows in bread dough, when she heard him calling her. “In the kitchen,” she called back without thinking, her heart racing. Then she moaned in despair, remembering that she was wearing a ragged old housedress and her hair was a mess, and because her hands were covered with dough, there wasn’t even anything she could do about it.

He appeared in the doorway, pausing there first to test his welcome. “Hello,” he said quietly when he had taken a minute just to look at her.

“Hello yourself,” she replied, a smile trembling on her lips. Her heart had skidded to a complete stop at the sight of him, but it was going again now, although it was tripping along a little too quickly.

She watched him watching her while her hands frantically worked at scrubbing off the remnants of the dough. She tried to remind herself that she was still mad at him, that he was the most infuriating man alive and that he was planning to leave her for the entire summer without so much as a thought to her feelings in the matter. At that particular moment, none of that seemed very important, however. What was important was that he was coming toward her, and she wanted very much to be in his arms.

Cole knew he was taking a chance. She might still be mad at him, and she sure hadn’t said anything to make him think any different. She might turn away from his kiss, and if she did, he wouldn’t be responsible for what might happen next. Still, he knew that if he didn’t get his hands on her soon, he was going to go right out of his mind.

Rachel forgot all about the dough as his arms came around her, and she embraced him back, lifting her face for the kiss she had craved for two long weeks. He tasted of tobacco and Cole, a combination she found irresistible, and she willingly parted her lips for his sweet invasion.

His arms tightened, pulling her against his solid strength, and she gloried in the feel of him, in the way her soft curves molded to him. Her hands traced the sinewy muscles of his back and shoulders, relearning his body and memorizing it for the lonely time to come.

When at last he lifted his mouth from hers, they were both breathless, both weak from wanting. Rachel resisted the urge to pull him back to her, knowing that the kitchen was hardly the place for such wantonness. Instead, she concentrated on breathing, something that had become a conscious effort, and watched the reluctance in his every move as he forced his hands to release her.

Cole drew a ragged breath and stepped away from her, knowing that if he did not do so, he would take her right there on the table beside the bread dough. Imagining what her reaction would be to such a thing brought a wry smile to his lips.

“Is the roundup over?” she asked a little unsteadily as her eyes devoured him. He was taller than she remembered, and maybe a little more bronzed. Everything else was still the same, though. The same broad shoulders, the same narrow waist, the same long legs. His eyes were still the bluest blue she had ever seen, too, and they couldn’t seem to get enough of looking at her.

“Yeah,” he replied, his voice a little husky. Cole thought she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. The old dress she was wearing was soft and faded from many washings and clung faithfully to the generous curve of her breasts. She had unbuttoned the top three buttons and he could see the milk-white skin beneath, glistening from the heat of the kitchen. The opening stopped just short of the shadow between her breasts, but he could imagine it, imagine placing a kiss right there, imagine tasting the salty tang of her skin with the tip of his tongue.

“It hasn’t even been two weeks yet,” she said, flushing slightly at the direction of his gaze and wishing once again that he had not caught her looking so shabby. She had forced herself not to even begin watching for him until after tomorrow. That was why he had caught her off guard. She watched in fascination as he wiped his palms along the thighs of his jeans, remembering how those hands felt rubbing along her naked flesh. She shivered slightly.

“I pushed the men hard. I was in a hurry to get back,” he said. He couldn’t remember ever seeing her like this outside of bed. Her hair was coming loose from where she had it pinned up, and he liked the way some strands were falling down around her face. And her face. He would have sworn that she got prettier every time he saw her. She looked different, somehow, fresher or brighter or happier or something. He wasn’t exactly sure what it was. He only knew that it was true.

“I’m glad you’re back,” she said, pleased by his hint that he had missed her. The flush that had warmed her cheeks spread to heat more distant parts of her body.

“Well...” he said, not quite certain what to say or do next, only sure that he couldn’t do the thing he most desired, “looks like I’ve got time to take a bath before supper’s ready.”

Rachel wrinkled her nose in a comic grimace. “You look like you could use one,” she remarked, only now noticing that he was still wearing his range clothes and that he’d carried a goodly portion of the range in with him.

Cole grinned, showing his dimple, and slapped a small cloud of dust from his shirt. “Yeah, the truth is, I’m so rank I’m starting to wind myself.”

At the sight of that beloved smile, something inside Rachel melted, very slowly and very sweetly. She loved him so much. “There’s hot water in the boiler,” she said, wondering even as she did so how her voice could sound so normal when every nerve in her body seemed to be tingling.

He nodded, and she watched in fascination as he walked over to the boiler and drew off two buckets of hot water. She loved the loose-jointed, graceful way he moved, the way his shirt pulled tight across his shoulders when he stretched. She inhaled deeply and let out her breath in a shaky sigh.

“Well, I’ll see you later,” he said, forcing himself to lift the buckets and head for the door. She was still smiling. That was a good sign. And she’d kissed him. Boy, howdy, had she kissed him, so she wasn’t mad anymore. He only had one night, and he didn’t want to waste it fighting.

When he was gone, Rachel sighed again. She only had one night to convince him to stay and what a night it was going to be. A secret smile curved her lips and she hugged herself in anticipation. That was when she noticed that her hands were still quite doughy and she remembered what she had been doing when he came in. Quickly, she returned to the table and began to work the dough furiously, throwing in more flour until it reached the proper consistency so that she could knead it and shape it into loaves. She didn’t have much time, not if she wanted to be bathed and dressed herself by suppertime.

Rachel sat primly erect at the table, her tight corset giving her no other choice, and she smiled her secret smile again. It was a wicked thing to have done, but she was feeling very wicked indeed tonight. She’d read about it in a book, a book that one of the girls at school had sneaked in, and she had promised herself that if she ever had the opportunity, she would try it. But that would come later, she reminded herself, and glanced up to see that Cole had finished his meal and was waiting for her.

He looked very much as he had the day they had gotten married. He was wearing the same clothes and his hair was all slicked back. There was something very different about him tonight, though. Rachel thought it was his eyes. Whenever he looked at her, she had the alarming sensation of intense heat, almost as if those azure eyes had the power to bum through her clothing and scorch the bare skin underneath. It was a delicious sensation.

Rachel laid down her fork and rose gracefully from her chair. “Shall we go into the parlor?” she asked coolly, in marked contrast to the way she was feeling.

Cole rose and followed her into the other room. God, she looked wonderful, he decided, watching the sway of her hips under the bustled drape of her skirt. As inviting as she had looked this afternoon in the kitchen, this was the Rachel that most excited him, the one who was so neat and ladylike on the outside, but who, underneath all those fancy clothes, was a fiery little vixen. Cole drew a ragged breath and wondered how long he would have to wait before he could decently suggest they go to bed. He didn’t want her to think he’d only come home for that, but he didn’t think he could wait much longer, either.

Rachel sat down in one of the wing chairs and smoothed the skirt of her violet gown. She had chosen it especially because of the way it fit her so perfectly, accentuating the curves her corset had pushed into prominence. One glance at Cole’s expression told her she had made the right choice. With elaborate casualness, she took up her embroidery. From the corner of her eye, she observed Cole as he strolled over to the fireplace, where he carefully rolled and lighted himself a cigarette. Draping his arm across the mantel, he stood there and smoked it. She knew he was watching her, but she didn’t look up. Instead she continued to sew, pushing the needle in and out, in and out, basking in the golden glow of his attention.

“Did you have any problems getting the cattle rounded up?” she asked after a while.

Cole inhaled deeply and let the smoke out on a long breath. “No, nothing big. The herd’s a little nervous, though. I reckon being stampeded like that made them kind of skittish. They’ll probably settle down once we get moving.” It seemed like a pretty silly thing to be discussing, when he really had a million other, important things to say to her. He wanted to know what she was going to do while he was gone. How would she occupy her time? Would she miss him? Had she missed him the other times he had been gone? Would she worry about him? Did she really understand why he had to go? Did she know how much he hated to leave her and that only his compelling need to prove how well he could care for her could make him go?

But he didn’t say any of those things. Instead, he crushed out his cigarette on the hearth and rolled another and glanced impatiently at the clock. Had the damn thing stopped? Only two minutes had passed since he last looked at it, but he could have sworn it had been at least a half an hour. He was beginning to think that he would lose his mind long before it was late enough to suggest going to bed. He began to pace the floor.

Rachel bit down hard on her lip to keep from smiling. Now he was pacing. She didn’t need much imagination to know what was bothering him. Why he didn’t just scoop her up and carry her into bed, she couldn’t imagine. She guessed it had something to do with some overblown sense of propriety. How shocked he would be to know that she was seriously considering scooping him up and carrying him to bed. She was fairly certain that she didn't have to be quite so bold to accomplish her purpose, however.

Very ostentatiously, she bit off the thread of the flower she had just finished and held up her work to admire it. Then with a satisfied sigh, she stuck the needle safely into the material and tucked the whole thing back into her sewing bag.

Knowing she had his complete attention, she stood up and said, “Well, I think I’ll go to bed now.”

Cole glanced briefly at the clock and confirmed his impression that it was entirely too early to even think about going to bed. His eyes narrowed suspiciously. What was she up to this time? If she thought she was going to pull that same trick again, she had another think coming. “Oh, no, you’re not,” he said, tossing his cigarette into the fire and planting his hands belligerently on his hips.

Rachel stared up at him in complete surprise. “I’m not?”

“No, you’re not,” he confirmed, advancing on her menacingly, “and don’t try to pretend that you’re tired, either.”

“I’m not tired,” she said faintly, baffled at his sudden hostility, and then, suddenly the word “tired” triggered a memory. That was the excuse she had used the last time. “I’m not a bit tired,” she hastily assured him. “I just thought that since this is your last night, you’d want to get... started...” Her voice trailed off uncertainly as she realized how brazen she sounded. What would he think of her?

Now it was Cole’s turn to stare. Good God, did she really mean...? “Rachel.” Her name was a growl, deep in his chest, and before she could even lift her head in acknowledgment, she was in his arms.

She made a muffled protest against his lips as her feet left the floor, but they were already at the bedroom door before she managed to break free of his kiss to gasp, “Get the lamp!”

Cole stumbled to a halt, his amazed expression almost comical. “The lamp?” he repeated incredulously.

“Yes, the lamp,” she said as primly as she could, considering she was being held high against his chest. “I need some light to get out of this outfit,” she informed him as seriously as she could under the circumstances. What she did not add was that she needed the light so that he could see her getting out of it.

“The lamp,” he repeated, obviously thoroughly puzzled, but he turned and retraced his steps, still holding her, until they reached the table where the lamp rested. “Help yourself,” he said, lowering her so she could reach it.

Struggling to control her growing excitement, Rachel captured her prize and held it carefully away from his face as he once again headed for the bedroom. This time he did not stop when he got to the doorway but went inside, kicking the door shut behind him. Still without stopping he went directly to the bed where he set her down with exaggerated care. With even more exaggerated care, he took the lamp from her hands and placed it gingerly on the bedside table.

Rachel was busily reviewing the next step in her plan for the evening until he turned back to her and she saw the expression in his eyes. He was not going to wait for the next step. “Cole, wait!” she cried, but she was too late.

He lunged, his weight carrying them both down onto the bed. This wasn’t the way she had planned it, she thought in some distant part of her brain, but somehow that no longer mattered. His hungry mouth blocked any protest and after a few seconds, she forgot about making one.

His hands framed her face, holding her still for his kiss, and his fingers slid back into the velvet of her hair. In another moment he was rooting out the pins that held it so tightly against her head until at last she felt it tumble free. His fingers combed through the silken length of it and he rolled over, carrying her with him so that she lay on top of him, her hair falling around them in an ebony cascade. “Oh, Rachel,” he moaned, nuzzling her neck beneath the rose-scented tresses.

Rachel thought for a moment that she might die from the sheer joy of it until she realized that her real death might very well be imminent. “I have... to get... out of this... dress...” she gasped, finally equating her breathlessness with the tightness of her corset and not with Cole’s passionate assault. She had to struggle a moment until he reluctantly released her and allowed her to slide down off his body until her feet touched the floor.

Awkwardly, she staggered upright, almost losing her resolve when she saw the bluest eyes in the world devouring her every move. But she had to get rid of the dress, no matter what else happened, she told herself sternly. And besides, she had her wicked little surprise. Newly resolved, Rachel straightened beside the bed and backed up a few steps.

As if he were attached to her by some invisible cord, Cole rose as she retreated until he sat upright. That azure gaze never left her as he reached down and pulled off first one of his boots and then the other.

Her chocolate-colored gaze never left him as she swiftly undid the myriad buttons of her dress. Mesmerized, she watched his hands move to loosen his own buttons and pull the tail of his shirt loose from his pants and then strip the garment from his broad shoulders, baring that broad furred chest. As if in answer, she peeled the violet dress from her own shoulders and let it slide slowly to the floor.

Cole admired the ivory expanse of her bosom lifted proudly above the constriction of her corset, and anticipated how the satiny flesh would feel beneath his hands and mouth. He had just gathered himself to reach for her when something very startling registered on his consciousness.

“What the hell...” He stared. And then he gaped. He’d never seen anything like it.

Rachel felt the heat from his eyes as a tangible force that seemed to scorch her naked skin. She knew she must be blushing down to her very toes, but things had gone too far to back out now. With fingers that trembled slightly, she untied her petticoats and let them fall in a taffeta pool around her feet.

Cole continued to gape. Standing there in her corset and her drawers with her hair all wild and tangled, she looked like a vision from his wildest fantasies. As if that wasn’t enough, though, the corset was red! Bright red, with black lace on it. No, he really had never, ever seen anything like it.

She had shocked him, she realized, really shocked him. The knowledge pleased her. She had wanted to make this night the most memorable one they had ever shared, and from the way he was looking at her, she had a feeling he would never forget a moment of it. Daintily, she stepped clear of the pile of petticoats. “You’ll have to help me with my corset,” she informed him.

Those blue eyes narrowed suspiciously once more. “Help you how?” he asked somewhat hoarsely.

“You’ll have to unlace me,” she said, placing her hands on her hips expectantly.

Cole watched those hands, noticing the way the corset cinched her in and lifted her breasts invitingly. “I don’t know how,” he said, even as he rose from the bed and moved toward her. Was the thing made out of satin? It was shining in the lamplight and he wondered if it felt as soft as it looked. It looked, except for the color, almost like human skin. Like Rachel’s skin.

“There’s nothing to it,” she promised, presenting him with her back and whipping the length of her hair off her neck and over her shoulder to rest on her breast. “Just unlace it like you would a shoe.”

Cole stared in horror. Oh, it was just like a shoe, all right. Like a shoe with a hundred eyes. He reached out and very gently pulled loose the bow that rested on her lower back. The first few holes were relatively easy, but with each hole the laces grew longer and it took longer to pull them free. He let his knuckles brush against the surrounding material. It was satin and it did feel just like Rachel’s skin. It was even warm from her body.

The laces slid free of another pair of holes, and Cole drew an unsteady breath, inhaling the scent of roses and Rachel. He tried to concentrate on what he was doing, but he kept thinking how he had never noticed that the back of her neck was so beautiful or that the lamplight turned the skin of her shoulders to the color of fresh cream. His gaze kept straying over her shoulder to where that creamy skin swelled gently and disappeared beneath the silk of her chemise. He worked mechanically now, pulling the ever-lengthening laces by touch, not even watching anymore how the red satin slowly separated.

Rachel closed her eyes, sensing the heat of his body so close to hers. She could smell his musky scent and knew from the scent that when she turned, his body would be moist to the touch, the way it was when he was inside her. She shivered slightly as invisible fingers raised gooseflesh up the inside of her thighs and his warm breath flowed over her naked shoulders in increasingly ragged gasps. Every tiny hair on her body stood to attention and the blood sang through her veins, trilling a siren song that grew louder and louder until it was a roaring in her ears.

As if from far away, she felt the laces whisper free of the last holes, felt the bulky satin slide away and fall to the floor. And then Cole’s arms came around her, encasing her in a corset of flesh and bone that drew her close and stopped her breath. His mouth came down on the bare skin of her shoulder, tasting and devouring, until she could stand it no more and turned in his arms, lifting her face for his kiss.

Lips and tongues explored while hands sought out familiar territory, tracing hills and valleys through flimsy silken barriers and molding vibrant flesh to vibrant flesh. His hands cupped her buttocks, lifting her to him, and she wrapped her legs around him, clinging to his strength as he carried her to the bed.

Cole sank down into the feather tick and fell backward, intending, to carry Rachel with him, but she resisted, breaking the sweet seal of their mouths and raising up slightly. With an impudent grin, she wiggled to a sitting position, straddling his hips with their bodies in intimate contact through the barrier of their clothes and her legs spread wide on either side of his body. She gracefully removed one garter and began to peel down her stocking. Cole watched in fascination, propping his arms beneath his head to better observe the operation.

“Thank you for helping me with my corset,” she said, not bothering to hide her smile. She could not keep her eyes from the bare expanse of his chest.

Cole waited until the black silk had slid clear of her leg, revealing the gentle curve of one calf and the delicately arched foot. “How in the he— world do you get out of it when you’re alone?” he inquired lazily while she removed the other garter.

Rachel rolled the second stocking down and down and off and tossed it over her shoulder. “I unhook it down the front,” she informed him casually.

“What?”

Cole reared up but Rachel had scrambled free. Now on her feet, she swiftly untied the drawstring of her drawers and let them fall. Clad only in her chemise, which barely reached to the tops of her thighs, she managed to look contrite. “I’m sorry I tricked you,” she lied.

“You’re going to be,” he promised just before he lunged for her.

In the wrestling match that followed, Rachel’s chemise disappeared and so did the rest of Cole’s clothes, the lamp somehow went out and they managed to wriggle underneath the covers where they quickly warmed the cool sheets with their passion. They came together almost frantically, desperate in their needs and wants. Rachel clasped him to her, wanting it never to end but compelled to satisfy the merciless craving that threatened to destroy.

They lay for a long time afterward, weak and panting, in a tangle of arms and legs. Rachel smiled in the darkness, remembering how she had planned the scene with the corset even before she had ever met Cole Elliot, knowing how exciting it would be to tease her man. “Do you forgive me for the corset?” she asked. They were lying nose to nose and even in the dark she felt his answering smile.

“Does that thing really open down the front?” he asked, his voice rumbling lazily from deep in his chest.

Rachel nodded, rubbing her nose against his in delicious intimacy. “Uh-huh.”

“That was a rotten trick,” he said, but she could hear the laughter in his voice. “And you should get what you deserve.” Before she could ask just what that might be, one large hand swooped underneath the covers and placed a very awkward slap on her bottom.

It didn’t hurt. It was, in fact, more of a pat than a slap, but Rachel entered into the spirit of the game once more, squealing in outrage and thrashing around beneath the bedclothes in an attempt to land a blow in vengeance. Quite by accident, she found herself grabbing something else entirely.

At first she couldn’t imagine what it was, but realization came the moment she heard Cole’s gasp. She released it instantly. “Oh! I’m... I’m sorry,” she stammered, mortified. “Did I hurt you?”

“N—no,” he assured her a little breathlessly. “It didn’t hurt at all.”

His voice sounded so funny that she thought he might be lying. Then she considered. His breath was coming fast, the way it did when... A new possibility occurred to her.

“Are you sure?” she asked provocatively, running her hand over his chest, tangling her fingers into the hairs that curled there.

“Yeah,” he said on a deep breath that came out a little shakily.

“Good. I wouldn’t want to hurt you,” she purred, letting her hand stray lower and then lower still. The hair thinned out and then reappeared. She was slightly surprised to discover that he had hair down there just as she did. Then she found what she was seeking. It was smooth and soft and warm, nestled at the apex of his legs. Her fingers closed around it tentatively.

“Rachel,” he said warningly, but she knew he didn’t mean it. She thought how odd that she had always imagined it being bigger and harder, and then, suddenly, it was. “What’s happening?” she squeaked in alarm.

Cole moaned as he rolled them both over. “You’re asking for trouble, that’s what’s happening,” he muttered, pinning her down into the deep feather mattress. His kiss silenced any questions she might have had.

She didn’t have any, though. When he moved over her, she had all the answers she needed.

This time he was slow, as slow as she had been on the last night they had made love. This time he was the tormentor and Rachel the victim. She submitted willingly, though, allowing him to have his way with her. The warm glow that welcomed him soon grew hotter, fanned steadily by his delicate ministrations, and Rachel melted into it, swirling and dissolving until she was a mass of molten colors that flickered and glittered and shimmered and gleamed. Still he kept on, until each breath was a sob and Rachel could not tell if it were he or herself who was sobbing. The end came just when she knew she would not live a moment longer, and it came with a flash of brilliance that blinded her, closing out all else and sealing the two of them into their own private place, forever.

Forever, she muttered as she felt asleep in his arms. He would never leave her now. She was certain of it.

In the morning, when dawn teased its way into the room to disturb her, she reached out for him once more but the bed was empty.

“Cole!”

Rachel sat bolt upright in the bed, frantically scanning the room for him. Mercifully, she found him, and her whole body sagged in relief.

He was standing at the washstand, shaving in the morning light. With his startled face still marked with stray streaks of lather, he looked awfully dear, and she took a few seconds just to stare at him. “I was afraid you’d gone,” she said softly, a small smile curving her lips. She should have known he wouldn’t have left her.

“No, I...” His voice was husky and he had to clear his throat and try again. “I wouldn’t do a thing like that.”

He was staring at her quite intently, and she suddenly felt self-conscious, knowing that her unbound hair would be a mess. Reaching up a hand to brush it back from her face, she became aware of something else that was unbound—and completely exposed! With an embarrassed cry, she yanked up the covers that had fallen to her waist and held them modestly to her naked breasts. Her face was hot with embarrassment, but when she again met his eyes and saw the frank admiration there, her discomfort faded and the heat in her cheeks settled down to warm the rest of her.

Cole picked up a towel and wiped his face. “No, I wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye. I was just letting you sleep until I was ready to go.”

Rachel gaped at him. Go? How could he still be talking about going? “You aren’t really going to leave me?” she asked incredulously. Not after last night, her mind screamed.

Cole turned back to her and took a deep breath. He was wearing only his jeans, and Rachel watched his bare chest rise and fall. Irrelevantly, she noticed that he was still too thin. “Rachel, this cattle will bring a lot of money, maybe as much as ten thousand dollars. Do you know how important that money is to the Circle M?”

She shook her head dumbly. Didn’t he know there were other things that were important, too?

“Well, I’ll tell you,” he said, forcing the words out. He hadn’t wanted to scare her, but he was going to have to tell her the truth or she’d think he was leaving her because he didn’t care about her feelings, “I’ve looked at the books and as near as I can figure, without that money, the Circle M won’t last another six months.” He took a few steps closer to the bed. “Do you understand? In six months you’ll be broke.”

“Somebody else could take the cattle,” she said stubbornly.

“And what if something happened?” he demanded, angry now, although he wasn’t certain at whom his anger was directed. “What it they didn’t get through? What if they got cheated? What if they got robbed? What if they never made it back here?”

Those sky-blue eyes were like chips of ice, and she could see from the set of his jaw that he would not be swayed, but she felt compelled to try. “The same things could happen to you,” she pointed out.

She could almost see some of the anger drain out of him. “Then it would be on my head.” He made a beseeching gesture with his hand. “Don’t you see? I can’t let anybody else take this chance. It’s too important.” He paused, letting his hand drop. “It’s too important to you.”

That was it, then. At last she did understand. He was doing this for her. As much as she wanted him to stay, she also knew a sense of gratitude for what he was doing. It was natural, she supposed, to feel cherished by his gesture. She only wished she could feel happier about it.

Forcing a small smile, she made a feeble attempt to let him know she accepted his decision even though she could not like it. “Why don’t you come over here and kiss me goodbye then?” she asked.

There was certainly nothing he wanted to do more, but he hesitated. He remembered only too well that underneath those blankets, Rachel was stark naked. He could still see the way her breasts had looked, so round and smooth with tiny pink nipples that pointed up with sassy impudence. If he went over there and kissed her, one thing would lead to another, but the sun was already well up and the men would be waiting and...

Sensing his hesitation, Rachel loosened her grip on the blankets and let them fall again. This was one argument she was determined to win.

Cole watched the blanket fall. The men could wait.

It was the first time they had made love in the light, the first time eyes had seen what fingers and hands had learned so well. Each could only marvel at the beauty of the other, and they spent a long time silently appreciating each other in the dapple morning sunlight.

When they finally came together for what each knew would be the last time for a very long time, they did so tenderly, drawing out the moment of possession. Murmured love words passed from lip to lip, mingling with warm breaths and kisses. Hands stroked reverently, memorizing what would soon be gone. Hips churned gently in familiar rhythms, giving and receiving until the giving became receiving and each blended into the other. At the ending such distinctions mattered not at all.

After a long time, Cole stirred. “It’s getting late,” he murmured. With infinite reluctance, he began to untangle himself from her embrace.

Grudgingly, she released him, allowing him to rise but holding him in the bondage of her gaze. She adored him with her eyes, only half aware that he was doing the same to her. After long moments, he reached down and drew the blanket back over her. “There,” he said with a self-mocking grin. “If I have to keep looking at you, I’ll never get out of here.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” she said. She saw his lips tighten momentarily but then the grin was back and he was going for his clothes. She watched him dress, studying every movement, memorizing every line, every muscle, every inch of him. Three months was a long time.

When he was finished, he turned back to her briefly. “I’ll grab a bite to eat while you get dressed,” he said, and he was gone before she could reply.

As usual, Lupe had his breakfast ready. She didn't even remark on how late it was or that his food had grown cold. She only watched him in stoic silence until Cole started to wonder if his petticoat were showing or something.

But he had more important things to think about, he decided grimly. Like Rachel. If he lived to be a hundred, he knew he’d never understand her. One minute she was the perfect lady and the next she was wearing a red corset, of all things. And making him unlace it, too, knowing—as she must have known—that it would drive him out of his mind. And then there was this morning.

Thinking back, he realized that Rachel had actually seduced him. He’d never been seduced before. It was a funny feeling, and he wasn’t quite sure if he liked it or not. Oh, of course he liked it all right. What he didn’t like was not being in control, not when he still couldn’t quite trust her. He just wasn’t certain whether her passion came from genuine affection or a desire to control him. And she was definitely trying to control him. She didn’t want him to go on this trip and she had let him know. He was still going, but she’d thrown her half hitch on him all the same. The ropes were pinching and he knew he was getting out only by the skin of his teeth. Next time... Next time, he had the unsettling feeling that no matter what he decided, he would do whatever Rachel wanted. The knowledge rankled.

She still hadn’t come out of the bedroom when he had finished eating. Cole knew he didn’t dare go back in there with her or he wouldn’t get to leave today at all, so he went down to the corral to saddle his horse. He was glad no one was around, because all of a sudden he was feeling mighty unsociable. The closer he got to time to leave, the less he wanted to go and the more he knew he had to, if only to prove to Rachel and himself that he would do what he knew was right no matter how hard she tried to convince him otherwise.

Memories of last night and this morning teased at him as he roped the gelding he had ridden in the day before and tied it to the fence. If only he had some clue about what went on inside her head. She must care for him a little. She couldn’t have been pretending. Nobody, and certainly not a lady like Rachel, could act like that just out of a desire to control somebody, he reasoned as he went inside the bam to get his saddle.

“’Morning,” Miles said cheerfully. He had wandered over from the bunkhouse and stood leaning against the barn when Cole came out.

Cole grunted a greeting and went to saddle his horse. Miles frowned at his back. When the gelding shied from Cole’s brisk movements, Miles called out in warning, “Watch what you’re doing there.”

Cole ignored him and threw the saddle blanket over the reluctant animal’s back.

Miles stared at him, completely puzzled. Of course, Miles had expected him to be kind of down, what with him having to leave Rachel and all, but Cole looked downright mad. What could have caused that? Miles considered a moment, and then a knowing look lighted his eye. “Hey, now,” he soothed, certain he had discovered the reason. “Don’t be like that. She can’t help it.”

Cole whirled on him, wondering how Miles could have guessed about his problems with Rachel. “What do you mean?” he asked warily.

Miles gave him an understanding smile. “You come in here randy as an old range bull and find out it’s the wrong time of the month. It’s not her fault...”

“It’s not the wrong time of the month,” Cole snapped and bent to pick up his saddle.

Miles considered. What else could have put Cole in such a foul mood? “You mean she just turned you down?” he wondered aloud.

Cole whirled on him again. “She didn’t turn me down! Now mind your own damn business.”

But Miles wasn’t about to be deterred. “This is my business. I’ve got to stay here with her all summer and if you two had a fight...”

Cole gritted his teeth in an attempt to hold in his temper. “We did not have a fight,” he explained with elaborate patience, “and she did not turn me down.” He turned with an air of finality to pick up the saddle again.

Miles watched him throw it over the horse and cinch it tight. Cole was heading back to the barn for the bridle when Miles figured it out.

“Look, amigo,” he said, following Cole into the barn, “you can’t expect a nice girl like Miss Rachel to like sex as much as you do...”

Roaring a curse, Cole whirled on Miles a third time. “She likes it too damn much,” he blurted before he could stop himself. For a long moment the two men stood staring at each other, neither quite believing that Cole had really said what he had.

Embarrassed that he had confided a thing like that about his wife, Cole tried to go after the headpiece, but Miles caught him by the arm.

“What are you saying?” Miles asked, accusation in his voice.

Cole shook free of Miles’s grip, glaring at his friend in irritation. What was he saying? Since he really wasn’t certain himself, he had to grope for the words to explain. “It’s just... it’s hard to believe that a lady like Rachel would...” He gestured vaguely.

“Are you saying Miss Rachel isn’t a lady?” Miles demanded.

“Of course not!” Cole snapped, unsure whether he was more angry with Miles or himself. He was behaving like a damn fool, all because he couldn’t quite reconcile the way Rachel acted in bed with the way she acted other times. And because he was unable to understand the why of it.

Miles’s spectral eyes glared at him, reading his confusion. “You jackass,” Miles said, knowing he was the only one in the world who could get away with doing so. “If you’ve got a woman who likes it, you ought to get down on your knees and give thanks. Don’t you know that a lady like Miss Rachel would only be that way because she loves you?”

Cole’s mouth dropped open. Love? Could Rachel really love him? Before he could even consider the answer to that question, however, he heard her calling his name.

“There she is,” Miles hissed. “Now you march over there and you kiss her goodbye like it’s killing you to leave her and no more of this crazy talk. I’ve got to be here with her all summer and I want her happy. I don’t want her mooning around here with her heart breaking because she thinks you think poorly of her.”

Cole opened his mouth to protest that he most certainly did not think poorly of her, but Miles said, “Go!” and gave him a gentle shove to send him on his way.

Muttering an imprecation about meddling old fools, Cole did as he was told. It wasn’t very difficult. It really was killing him to leave her. She was standing on the porch and she was dressed the way he always pictured her. Wearing a pretty blue dress with flowers all over it, she looked as prim and pure as if no man had ever laid a hand on her. Her hair was pulled neatly back and tucked into a tight bun with not a strand out of place. A far cry from the naked, tousled, glowing creature who had lured him back into bed this morning.

She came down the stairs toward him and stepped right into his arms. That was when he knew that no matter what she looked like on the outside, she was still that creature, and Miles was right, he ought to get down on his knees and give thanks. Later, though. Right now, he’d just kiss her.

Rachel clung to him as if her life depended on never letting him go, and at that moment, she thought it might. How could he leave her like this? He couldn’t possibly care for her if he were able to leave, and if he didn’t love her, what would bring him back again? The pain from these torturous thoughts tore through her even as the fervency of his kiss belied them. He had to care for her, reason insisted. He couldn’t make love to her the way he did if he didn’t love her just a little. He would come back for that. He would. He simply had to.

At long last, Cole reluctantly lifted his head, wondering if he were out of his mind to be saying goodbye to a woman like this. Her own breath was as ragged as his, and he saw to his surprise that she was crying. Not crying hard or anything, but her eyes were wet and she looked awfully sad. This was killing her, too, he realized with startling clarity. Maybe she did love him, a little bit, anyway.

A wave of regret washed over him, almost overwhelming his resolution. “I have to go,” he whispered, as much to convince himself as to convince her. “I have to make sure you’re taken care of,” he said, and this time he believed it once again.

Rachel nodded her reluctant understanding. Then she reached up and laid her hand along his smoothly shaven cheek and remembered that once she had not thought him handsome. Now she knew that he was the best-looking man she had ever seen, and she loved him so much she thought her heart might burst from it. “You’ll be careful, won’t you?” she asked. Trailing cattle was dangerous. Men sometimes got hurt or killed doing it. There were lightning storms and stampedes and raging rivers and a host of other mishaps.

“I’m always careful,” he lied, silently promising himself that he would be this time, just for her.

“And you’ll write to me, to let me know how things are?” she asked.

He hedged at this. “There won’t be much to write about...”

“I don’t care. I just want to know that you’re all right,” she insisted.

He nodded, not really promising. “It’s late. The men’ll be waiting,” he reminded her with regret.

Slowly, she released him, but he couldn’t leave her quite yet. “Walk me to my horse,” he commanded, taking her hand.

By the time they reached the barn, they had their arms around each other, and Cole noticed with mild annoyance that Miles was grinning at them like a cat with his head in the cream pitcher.

“Have a good trip amigo,” Miles said, stretching out his hand.

Cole took it without letting go of Rachel. “And you take good care of my girl,” he replied, giving her a loving look.

Rachel memorized that look, preserving it in her heart for the lonely weeks and months to come. He did care and he would come back to her. She knew he would. For one wild moment she considered telling him her secret, just to be certain, but she quickly stifled that urge. No, as desperately as she needed to know he would return, she also needed for him to return to her and only to her. When he did so, he would have earned the right to know. As he dropped Miles’s hand, she slid both her arms around Cole and held him close.

Cole returned her embrace for one agonizing moment before she gave a very suspicious-sounding sniff and then lifted her face for his final kiss. The kiss was long and sweet. Bittersweet.

Rachel pulled away first, knowing that soon she would cry, really cry, and wanting him to be gone when she did so. She looked ugly when she cried, and she didn’t want him to remember her that way. Pinning a tiny smile on her trembling lips, she stepped back as he slowly let his hands fall away from her.

For a long moment, they just looked at each other, and then Miles cleared his throat. “The men are waiting,” he reminded. Cole nodded absently, and turned to mount his horse, hardly taking his eyes off Rachel during the entire process. Only then did he notice that Miles had put the headpiece on the animal.

Not trusting his voice, Cole raised his hand in a farewell I salute and kicked the horse into motion. Rachel lifted her hand also and waved. She waved again when he stopped to look back just before topping the rise that would take him out of sight. Whether he waved back or not, she could not see, because her tears had blinded her.

Miles placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “He’ll come back,” he assured her.

Rachel dashed away a tear and lifted her chin resolutely. “He’d better,” she replied.