Duncan's Bride Read online

  He thought he had to be completely empty, yet he couldn’t stop. He didn’t know if he’d ever be able to stop. The peaks were no longer shattering, but were slow, strong swells that seemed to last forever.

  Madelyn clung to him, not thinking, never wanting to think. This was the magic she had wanted, the burning sensuality she had sensed in him. No part of her body was untouched, unloved. Exhaustion crept in and entwined with pleasure, and at some point they went to sleep.

  The sun was low when they woke, and the air was getting cooler. Reese pulled her into the heat of his body and smoothed her hair back from her face. “Are you all right?” he murmured, concerned when he remembered the violent intensity of their lovemaking.

  She nuzzled her face against his throat, lifting one slender arm to curl it around his neck. “Umm,” she said and closed her eyes again. She didn’t feel like moving.

  He sleeked his hand over her hip and up her side, then cupped her breast. “Wake up, honey.”

  “I am awake.” The words were slow and muffled against his throat.

  “It’s almost sunset. We need to go.”

  “We can sleep here.” She moved as if trying to sink into his skin, and her own hand strayed downward. He closed his eyes as her fingers closed gently around him. Her lips opened against his throat, then slid upward to his jaw. “Make love to me again, Reese. Please.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” he said beneath his breath. There was no way he could restrain himself now that he’d tasted her passion, no way she would let him, now that she knew. With a mixture of anger and despair he knew he’d never be able to keep his hands off her now. But the temperature was getting cooler by the second as the sun began dipping below the horizon; even though he was tempted to lie there with her, he didn’t want her to get chilled.

  He sat up and drew her with him. “Home,” he said, his voice roughening. “My knees have had about all they can take. I want to be in bed the next time.”

  Her eyes were slumberous, her lips swollen from his kisses. “As long as it’s soon,” she whispered, and thought she would cry, she loved him so much.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  HER SPIRIT WAS willing but her body went to sleep. She slept in his arms that night, her head on his shoulder and one leg thrown over his hip. Reese let her sleep, feeling the contentment of his own body as well as a certain wryness. If Madelyn had been seductive before, she was doubly so now. It was as if she had been holding back, too. That night, she hadn’t walked past him without reaching out to touch him somewhere: a lingering hand sliding along his ribs, a gentle touch on his hand or arm, or a light ruffling of his hair, a tickle of his ear, a quick kiss on his chin, an appreciative pat on his butt, even a bold caress of his crotch. After denying himself for so long, he couldn’t keep his hands off her, either. By the time he’d showered, eaten dinner and rested for an hour, the accumulated effect of all those caresses, both given and received, had had him hard and aching again. She had gone sweetly into his arms in bed, he’d made love to her, this time with lingering gentleness, and then she had gone to sleep before he’d withdrawn from her.

  He’d stayed inside her for a long time, dozing himself and luxuriating in the intimacy. When he tried to move she muttered a protest and turned with him, burrowing against him and retaining the connection. So he hooked his arm around her bottom and kept her locked to him all night, and he slept better than he had since the day he’d met her.

  He was on his back and she was sprawled on top of him when the alarm went off the next morning. He stretched to shut it off while she wiggled sleepily on his chest like a cat. He rubbed his hand down her back. “Time to get up.”

  His early-morning voice was dark and rough. Madelyn settled her head in the hollow of his shoulder again. “Did you know,” she said sleepily, “that more words in the English language start with S than with any other letter?”

  “Ah, God, not now,” he groaned. “Not before coffee.”

  “Chicken.”

  “I don’t want to talk about any damn chickens, either.” He struggled to wake up. “Canada is over two hundred thousand square miles larger than the United States.”

  “A pound of feathers weighs more than a pound of gold because of the different weighing systems used.”

  “Catgut comes from sheep guts, not cat guts.”

  She jerked upright, frowning at him, and he used the opportunity to turn on the lamp. “No gross stuff,” she ordered, then settled back down on his chest. “A blue whale’s heart beats just nine times a minute.”

  “Robert E. Lee’s family home is now Arlington National Cemetery.”

  “Mona Lisa doesn’t have any eyebrows, and the real name of the painting is La Gioconda.”

  “Quicksand is more buoyant that water. Contrary to Hollywood, you’d really have to work at it to go completely under in quicksand.”

  She yawned and was silent, listening to his heartbeat, a strong, steady drumming in her ear. As she listened it began beating faster, and she raised her head to look at him. His eyes were narrowed and intent. He locked his arms around her and rolled until she was beneath him, his legs between hers and spreading them wide. Madelyn clung to him and gave herself up to the now-familiar rise of ecstasy as he began making love to her.

  “WHAT ARE YOU doing today?” she asked over breakfast.

  “Moving a portion of the herd to another section so they won’t overgraze.”

  “I’m going with you.”

  He automatically started to refuse, and she gave him a hard look. “Don’t say no,” she warned. “I’ve already got steaks marinating in the refrigerator, and the baked potatoes are almost done, so they’ll finish baking while the steaks are grilling. There’s no reason for me to sit here every day when I can be with you.”

  “What I wonder,” he muttered, “is if I’ll get any work done at all. All right, I’ll saddle a horse for you. But I’m warning you, Maddie, if you can’t ride well enough to keep up, you won’t go out with me again.”

  She showed up at the barn half an hour later wearing jeans, boots and one of his denim workshirts with the sleeves rolled up and the tails tied in a knot at her waist. Her hair was French-braided in one long braid down the center of her back, she wore a new pair of wrist-length gloves, and she looked as chic as if she were modeling clothes rather than heading out for a day of herding cattle. She carried a western straw hat and settled it on her head before she approached the horse Reese had saddled for her.

  He watched as she gave the animal time to get acquainted with her, letting it snuffle at her arms, scratching it behind its ears. She wasn’t afraid of horses, at least. April had never been around them, and as a result had been jumpy in their vicinity, which in turn made the horses skittish. Madelyn petted the horse and crooned to it, then untied the reins, put her boot in the stirrup and competently swung into the saddle. Reese eyed the stirrups and decided he had judged the length correctly, then mounted his own horse.

  He watched her carefully as they cantered across a field. She had a good seat and nice steady hands, though she lacked the easy posture he possessed, but he’d been riding since he was a toddler. The smile she gave him was so full of pleasure he felt guilty at not taking her with him before.

  He set an easy pace, not wanting to push her too hard. When they reached the herd he explained how he worked. The herd was already divided into three smaller groups grazing different sections; the entire herd was too big for him to move by himself. He spent a lot of time moving them to fresh grazing and making certain they didn’t destroy the plant cycle by overgrazing. He pointed out the bunch they would be moving and gave her a coiled section of rope. “Just wave it alongside the horse’s shoulder in a shooing motion, and let the horse do the work if a cow decides to go in a different direction. All you have to do is sit deep in the saddle and hang on.”

  Sitting deep in the saddle was no problem; the big western rig felt like a cradle after the small eastern saddle she was familiar with. She took
the coil of rope and practiced a few waves with it, just to be certain it didn’t startle the horse. He treated it as commonplace, which, of course, to him it was.

  She enjoyed the work. She liked being outside, and there was a sort of peace to riding alongside the cattle and waving a coil of rope at them occasionally, listening to the deep-throated bawls and learning the joy of riding a well-trained cutting horse. She liked watching Reese most of all. He had been born to do this, and it was obvious in every movement and sound he made. He rode as if he were a part of the horse, anticipating every change of direction, encouraging the cattle with whistles and calls that seemed to reassure them at the same time.

  She felt almost dazed with pleasure, her senses overloaded. She had felt that way since the afternoon before, when his self-control had broken and he had taken her like a man possessed. Her body was sated, her emotions freed to reach out to him and shower him with the love that had been dammed up inside her. She had no illusions that the battle was won, but the first skirmish was hers; until yesterday, he would never have allowed her to pet him as she had been doing, nor would he have lingered in bed that morning to make love again. His face was still set in those stern, unsmiling lines, but he was subtly more relaxed. Judging from the past twenty-four hours, he must have had a difficult time controlling his sex drive. The thought made her smile.

  They stopped for lunch and to let the cattle and horses drink from a small natural pond. When the horses had been seen to, Reese tethered them nearby and sat down next to her on the small rise she’d chosen for the site of their meal. He took off his hat and put it on the grass beside him. “How do you like it so far?”

  “A lot.” Her lips curved softly as she handed him a sandwich. “It’s so peaceful out here, no cars, no telephones, no smog. You may have to help me out of bed in the morning, but it’ll be worth it.”

  “I’ll rub you down with liniment tonight.” His eyes glinted at her. “Afterward.”

  That statement earned him a kiss. Then she straightened and unwrapped her own sandwich. “How am I doing? Have I done anything totally amateurish?”

  “You’re doing fine. The only problem is that I keep worrying you’re going to get tossed and stepped on. You’re the first female cowhand I’ve ever had.”

  He was very western in his attitude toward women, but she didn’t mind him coddling her as long as he didn’t also try to stop her from doing what she wanted. Since he was bound to do that, their lives together should never become too complacent.

  He propped himself on one elbow and stretched his long legs out as he ate his second sandwich. She began to feel warm as she watched him; though he was simply dressed in brown jeans, a white shirt and those disreputably scuffed boots, he outshone male models she’d seen in tuxedos. His first wife had to be president of a Stupid Club somewhere, but the wretched woman shouldn’t be allowed to get away with what she’d done to him. Madelyn had never before thought of herself as vindictive, but she felt that way about anyone who had ever harmed Reese. If she ever met April, she would snatch her bald-headed.

  He found the cookies she’d packed and washed them down with the last of the tea. Feeding this man could be a full-time job, she thought fondly. If his children inherited his appetite, she’d never get out of the kitchen.

  Thinking of having his children made her feel even warmer, but reminded her of something she’d meant to discuss with him. She turned to face him, sitting with her legs folded in front of her.

  “There’s something we have to talk about.”

  “What’s that?” he asked, stretching out on his back and settling his hat over his eyes.

  “Children.”

  One eye opened and peered at her; then he removed the hat and gave her his full attention. “Ye gods, are you already pregnant?”

  “No, and even if I were, I wouldn’t know yet, because it isn’t time for my period. We didn’t talk about it before we got married, so I didn’t know if you wanted to wait before we had children or if you wanted to have them right away. When you called, it was almost time for my period, so when I went to the doctor for the physical I got a prescription for birth control pills.”

  He sat up, his face darkening. “You’re on the Pill?”

  “Yes. I’ve only taken it for this month. If you want to start trying to have children right away, I can stop.”

  “You should have discussed it with me before, or was that another one of those subjects, like your virginity, that you didn’t think were any of my business?”

  She gave him one of those sidelong glances. “Something like that. I didn’t know you, and I didn’t feel very comfortable with you.”

  He watched her for a minute, then reached out to take her hand, rubbing his rough thumb over her soft palm. “How do you feel about getting pregnant right away?”

  “I wouldn’t mind. I want your children. If you want to wait, that’s okay with me, too, but I don’t want to wait more than a year. I’m twenty-eight. I don’t want to be in my mid-thirties when we get started.”

  He thought about it while he studied the contrast of her delicate hand in his big, rough one. Now that he’d given in to the powerful physical attraction between them, he didn’t want to give it up too soon. He wanted to fully enjoy her for a while before pregnancy put necessary limits on the wildness of their lovemaking. He carried her hand to his mouth and licked her palm. “Take the Pill for a few months,” he said. “We’ll talk about it again in the fall.”

  She shivered, a dazed expression coming into her eyes at the stroke of his tongue on her palm. As he pulled her down on the grass she asked, “Do you think you’ll get your boots off this time?”

  And he replied, “I doubt it.”

  He didn’t, but she didn’t care.

  SHE WENT WITH him often after that. She helped him move cattle, inoculate them, and staple tags in their ears. After he’d cut and baled the hay, she drove the truck pulling the hay trailer around while he swung the heavy bales onto it. It was work that really required a third person, to stack the bales, but it was easier than when Reese had had to do it by himself. When she didn’t go out with him, she continued with the project of scraping the house.

  He finally noticed the difference in the house and investigated. The dusting of white paint chips on the ground told him all he needed to know.

  He leaned against the kitchen cabinet and crossed his arms. “Are you scraping the house?”

  “Yep.”

  “Don’t pull the Gary Cooper routine on me. I want it stopped right now.”

  “The routine or the scraping?”

  “Both.”

  “The house can’t be painted until the old paint is scraped off,” she said reasonably.

  “I can’t afford the paint, so it doesn’t make any difference. And I don’t want you climbing around on a fourteen-foot ladder. What if you fell while I’m out on the range?”

  “What if you got hurt out on the range by yourself?” she retorted. “I’m careful, and I haven’t had any trouble so far. It shouldn’t take too much longer.”

  “No,” he said, enunciating carefully. “I can’t afford the paint, and even if I could I wouldn’t let you do the scraping.”

  “You don’t have time for it, so who else is going to do it?”

  “For the third time,” he yelled, “I can’t afford the paint! What does it take to make you understand that?”

  “That’s something else we’ve never talked about. What makes you think we can’t afford the paint? I supported myself before I married you, you know.” She put her hands on her hips and faced off with him. “I have both a checking and a savings account, which I transferred to a bank in Billings. I also have a trust fund that I inherited from Grandma Lily. It isn’t a fortune by any means, but we can certainly afford a few gallons of paint!”

  Reese’s face was like granite. “No. Remember our prenuptial agreement? What’s yours is yours and what’s mine is mine. If you spent your money on the ranch it would go a l
ong way toward negating that agreement, giving you a claim to it on the basis of upkeep.”

  She poked him in the chest, her jaw jutting forward. “For one thing, G. Reese Duncan, I’m not planning on getting a divorce, so I don’t give a flip what’s in your precious agreement. For another, how much would it cost to paint the house? A hundred dollars? Two hundred?”

  “Closer to two hundred, and no, by God, you’re not buying the paint!”

  “I’m not only going to buy it, I’m going to paint it! If you’re so set on protecting the ranch from my scheming, then we’ll draw up a contract where you agree to repay me for the paint—and my time, too, if you insist—and that will take care of any claim I could make against you. But I live here, too, you know, and I want the outside to look as nice as the inside. Next spring I’m planting flowers in the flower beds, so if you object to that we might as well fight it out now. The only choice you have right now is the color you want the house painted, and your choices are white and white.” She was yelling by the time she finished, her face flushed.

  He was more furious than she’d ever seen him before. “Do whatever the hell you want,” he snapped and slammed out of the kitchen.

  She did. The next time they went into town she bought the paint and brushes and paid for them with one of her own checks, glaring at him and daring him to start again. He carried the paint out to the truck with ill grace. The high point of that day was when they stopped at the café for coffee and listened to Floris berating her customers.

  She had the house painted by the middle of August, and had developed a healthy respect for people who painted houses for a living. It was some of the hardest work she’d ever done, leaving her shoulders and arms aching by the end of the day. The most aggravating part was painting the hundreds of thin porch railings; the most nerve-racking was doing the second floor, because she had to anchor herself to something. But when it was finished and the house gleamed like a jewel, and the shutters wore a new coat of black all-weather enamel, she was prouder of her efforts than she had ever been before of anything she’d done.