Lone Star Bride

“Not as bad a time as I gave him. He thought he could put his hands on me and I fought him. He had an aching crotch for a while, and Dad fired him without asking me any questions. He knew we’d been out by the pasture fence the night before and when he saw Mick in the morning, limping and unwilling to get in his saddle, he figured things out real quick. I’ll give Mick credit. He didn’t argue, not for a minute. I think he figured he’d gotten off easy.”

“Sounds like he did,” James said, thinking what his reaction would have been, had he been in Hank’s shoes that day.

“He also sent three men after him, just to be certain Mick left the county,” she said, shooting James a look that spoke of knowledge better left unsaid.

“I’ll bet he wasn’t a pretty sight when he hit the other side of town,” James said. “I suspect your daddy was madder than a hornet. The man ever show up here again?”

She shook her head. “That was almost two years ago. Haven’t seen hide nor hair of him.”

“If you ever do, I want to know about it,” James told her, his words harsh and commanding. “Some men learn the hard way, sweetheart. I don’t want to take any chances with your safety.”

She watched as he rolled his lariat up into a loop and held it at his side. “Am I safe with you, Jamie?” As if her own words embarrassed her, she refused to meet his gaze, her cheeks flushed, her mouth looking soft and vulnerable.

“As safe as you want to be, Alexis,” he answered. “You won’t have to aim any low blows at me.”

They walked together back to the barn, and then turned as one for a last look at the yearlings who’d taken up residence under the trees. Their heads were bent to the ground, their tails swished lazily as they brushed flies away, and one of the young colts picked up his head and looked their way, as if he challenged their vigilance.

“He’s telling you he has things under control out there,” Alexis said with a laugh. “That’s Red Mick, the leader of the whole bunch, whether they like it or not.”

“The fillies don’t seem to mind,” James observed, as one of the dark, graceful animals touched noses with the young stud they discussed.

“They’re foolish creatures, not even suspecting what’s ahead for them. When they’re all tied up waiting for his attention in a couple of years, they’ll not be so docile.”

“That’s a female for you,” James teased. “Always ready to give a man a hard time.”

They turned from the door and walked down the aisle to the tack room, where James hung his lariat and stripped off his gloves. Dropping them on the small area he used for minor paperwork, he turned to Alexis, who had followed him through the door, into the small room.

“You’re in trouble, coming in here with me,” he said quietly.

“Am I?” She faced him without a trace of fear, only anticipation lighting her eyes.

“You know what you’re doing?” he asked.

“Do you?” And then she smiled. “Yeah, I’d say you probably do, James Webster.”

Gripping her arm lightly, he bent to her, drawing her close, melding her soft curves against his own muscular length. She was amenable to his touch, fitting her body to his without hesitation, moving a bit as if she would mold herself closer.

“Watch out, sweetheart. Too much wiggling will get you in trouble,” he warned her, his voice low and husky.

“Show me,” she murmured, lifting her face to his, inviting his kiss.

He obliged her, taking his time as he covered her lips with his, brushing the soft pliant flesh and then begging entry with coaxing probes of his tongue. She obliged, a sense of surprise apparent, and he hesitated, as if he would not take advantage of her. And then she sighed and he lost his better judgment, finding her sweet and inviting, seeking out the hidden places that formed her mouth.

His kiss was long, heated and damp, and he feared he had frightened her with the intensity of his desire. But apparently not so, for she clung to him, her arms encircling his neck, her face tucked into the bend of his shoulder, as if she invited his caresses.

His mouth touched her cheek, her closed eyelids and the line of her brow where small curls formed and the heat of the day brought a faint line of perspiration to dwell. She smelled of hay and horse, an aroma not unpleasant to him. Yet, beneath her skin was the scent of woman, that elusive, faint essence of female allure that drew men to their fate.

And he was no different than any other man, he decided. Alexis was exactly what he’d traveled so many miles to find. Courting her was the next step. Convincing her father of his worth would be a task James would have to work at, if he ever planned to win the woman he held in his arms.

“Jamie?” She tipped her head back and eyed him quizzically. “What are you thinking about? Your forehead is all wrinkled and you look like something has you all riled up.”

“Just you,” he said, allowing a smile to take residence on his lips. “I’m trying to behave myself. How did you say it? Keep my hands to myself. You make it pretty hard, ma’am.” And then he laughed aloud as he recognized the truth of his statement, and drew back from her lest she be frightened or insulted by the blatant nudge of his manhood against her.

“You don’t frighten me,” she said boldly. “And I kinda like your hands right where they are, Jamie.”

He felt the line of her back beneath his fingertips, the flaring of her hips, the narrowing of her waist, and as he slid his palms upward, knew the fullness of her breasts against his chest as he measured her width, his fingertips touching at the center of her back.

She was silent, unmoving, as if any bit of protest from her might halt his meandering. And so it might. For he was in uncharted territory here, he realized.

His hands slipped to her ribs, then forward just a bit, cradling the weight of her breasts against his thumbs. It was all he could do not to clasp the softness, but he thought better of it, and wisely left it for another time. For there would be another time.

Of that he was certain.

Chapter Four

Bringing trouble down on himself was not Jamie’s intent, and so he’d backed off in his pursuit of Alexis over the following two months. She was a joy to watch, a natural. Her patience with the yearlings was beyond what James had hoped for. She pampered them, coaxed them through their paces and treated them as if they were her children, petting, hugging and talking to them in an almost nonstop litany of praise as they performed to her commands.

She was a born horsewoman, with an innate sense of rightness when it came to dealing with her charges, no matter their moods or behavior. He gladly gave Alexis her due as their trainer. She’d accepted his program without argument, had gone along with his ideas and was the talk of the ranch hands. If they secretly admired James’s control over her, they did not let it be known. If they were jealous of his long hours in her company, they kept it secret. And yet, he was the subject of pointed looks from the men who worked for him, but who still took his orders without question.

If Hank suspected there was anything going on in the training sessions that was directly opposed to his daughter’s care and safety, he kept it to himself, only questioning James about the success of the yearlings’ training. To Hank, James was openly willing to praise Alexis for her work.

And work she did. For several hours each day, she did as James instructed her, brushing, currying and in all ways tending the yearlings. They came to know her well, recognizing her scent as she approached the pasture, running with coltish grace to where she awaited them, always with a carrot or bit of apple for each of them.

And they performed well for her, gave her what she demanded of them, and were soon ready to go on to the next phase of their training. Alexis was light, probably not weighing much more than a hundred pounds, James figured. She was not tall, but petite and slender, agile and quick in her movements.

She leaned against the horses, bent low to stroke their bellies, picked up their feet, one after another, preparing them for the handling they would receive as mature animals. They had to learn to accept being shod in another year or so. Men would brush them, lead them, handle them, expect much of them in the future. It was Alexis’s job to see to it that they were not shy around others, that they would accept another’s hands on them.

She possessed a rare sense of communication with the animals, and with that in mind, he thought to utilize her in his work with the three-year-olds.

“Would you like to give me a hand, Alex?” he asked her. They were at the breakfast table, a meal cooked and served by the cook, a buxom lady named Ellen, brought out from town to fill the job Alexis no longer had the time nor inclination to do.

“Doing what?” she asked, buttering her toast and then reaching for the jam jar.

“Getting the three-year-olds used to a saddle and rider.”

Hank spoke up quickly. “I don’t want my girl dumped by an ornery horse. That’s a man’s job.”

Darting a warning look at Alexis, James grinned at Hank. “Don’t you think Alex can do as well as any of the men on the place?”

“In some ways,” Hank allowed, eyeing Alexis warily, as if he recognized that his quick refusal had caused her to bristle.

He was right. She was stewing quietly, but her temper was close to the boiling point as she listened to the two men discussing her. Jamie had given her more responsibility than she’d expected, allowing her a free hand with the yearlings for almost two months. With a mental pat on the back, she judged she had done a job that no one could find fault with.

The ranch was the proud possessor of a dozen or so yearlings, all easily handled, all trained to walk, trot and lope at the end of a rope, on command. They carried a blanket and sometimes a twenty-five pound weight on their backs, and would become accustomed to that before the poundage was increased.

“Why don’t I have the chance to answer your question, Jamie?” she asked, as the conversation came to a halt.

“You can say whatever you like, so far as I’m concerned,” he told her.