Lone Star Bride

It was morning, there was work to be done, men to be directed, horses to be saddled and calves to be roped. Hopefully today would finish up the job. They’d been at it for two days already, but it was getting to be cleanup time. Only a few of the calves and young bulls were still unbranded. In a rope corral, they awaited their turn with the branding iron or the clamp that would ensure their placid behavior over the next year, or until they were sold as steers on the market.

Alex rose stiffly, as if her muscles protested the hard ground, and then bent to retrieve her blankets, folding them quickly. She turned to Jamie, her bedroll over her arms before her, her eyes still blinking at the bright sunlight that assailed them from the eastern sky.

“I want you to be careful today,” Jamie said quietly. “You’re my responsibility, and I don’t care how many times you’ve helped with the branding, it’s still a dangerous place for a woman. Don’t get hurt, Alex, or your dad will have my neck in a noose.”

“You’re treating me like a child,” she told him.

“I know very well that you’re not a child, but I’m trying to make you see the effect you have on the men when you’re working with them. They’re all aware that you’re a woman, full grown, but they’ll keep an eye out for you, wanting to protect you from harm. I’ll tell you this just once. Don’t cause me any trouble or I’ll be after you quicker than you can say ‘scat.’”

Her eyes widened again as he spoke and then she looked aside. Hell, if he didn’t know better, he’d think he’d hurt her feelings.

“I know enough not to get in the way,” she said quietly, walking away toward the chuck wagon.

Jamie felt a moment’s pause, retracing his words and then her response to them. He’d been harsher than he’d intended. And above all, he wasn’t trying to frighten her. Only make her aware of her impact on these men.

On him, if the truth be known.

The men finished up their work by midafternoon, and with the satisfaction of a job well done, they packed up camp and headed back to the barn, a ride of two hours or better. The chuck wagon came last, Alexis riding with Cookie, her horse tied on behind.

Jamie could find no fault with her behavior today, he decided, riding just ahead of the chuck wagon. She’d been the soul of discretion, quiet and subdued, and he wondered if she were angry with him, with his long spiel this morning, when he’d effectively told her he would use his strength against her should she disobey him.

The thought shamed him. He’d never hit a woman in his life, never raised a hand against a female, no matter what the temptation. And he wasn’t about to begin now. Especially not with a woman he’d set his sights on. And that thought was enough to bring him to a halt. He’d just decided that marriage was not on his agenda, hadn’t he?

And now he was flirting with the idea of tying himself down with Alexis Powers. Somehow the loss of his bachelor freedom seemed not so tragic as it had a while ago.

Hell, he’d changed his mind almost overnight, letting the girl get under his skin, considering the lure of her slender body, her soft, plush mouth that tempted him mightily, and now he was thinking of the dreaded “M” word. Marriage.

And wouldn’t Connor laugh at him if he could see him now. Connor, his older brother, his idol in childhood days, his friend as an adult. Connor had found his true love almost ten years ago, and after the mess Jamie had caused, Connor had married her and shared two children with her.

And Jamie was still wandering the world, unattached and lonely. Maybe it was time to change things, he thought, the vision of Alex before him. And then she was at his left side, the chuck wagon pulled up even with his horse as he rode at a slow walk.

“Something wrong?” Cookie called, his voice a teasing drawl. “Your horse go lame? Or are you just loafin’ along?”

“Just thinking,” Jamie said quickly, his eyes not straying to the woman who sat only a few feet away from him. “I’ll move along a little faster.” With a nudge of his heels, the stallion broke into a trot and Jamie rode ahead. The horse had been champing at the bit for a half hour or so, and now with the reins loose in his rider’s hands, he took advantage of Jamie’s lax behavior and tossed his head, switching his tail and side-stepping a bit, as if he challenged his rider.

It was enough to bring him back to the present, and Jamie allowed the horse his head, leaning forward to urge the stallion on to greater speed. As if he knew his rider’s mind, the sleek ears twitched back, his breathing took on a deep, stentorian sound and he flew like the wind, past those who rode more placidly ahead of him, then across the landscape to where a line of trees proclaimed the presence of a stream of water.

Jamie welcomed the sight. Tired and dirty, he’d spent the past three days without a bath, with aching muscles and a case of lust gnawing at him. The shelter of willows was welcoming, and he drew his horse to a halt almost a mile from where the rest of the riders moved on toward the ranch house and barn. The water was clear, not deep, but certainly abundant enough to get himself clean.

With little hesitation, he tied his mount to a tree branch, then stripped off his clothing and waded into the streambed. Cold and clear, the water welcomed him, and he knelt in the deepest spot, splashing his body lavishly with the clean flow. He doused his head, bending to rub his scalp beneath the surface, then lifting his head and shaking the water from it, allowing it to fly where it would. He wiped his face with his wide palms, and bent to his knees, relishing the cool wash of the stream as it rushed past him, the water seeming clear enough to drink. He dipped his hands into it, scooped up a double handful and lifted it to his mouth.

“I’ve got a perfectly good canteen filled with well water I’d be willing to share with you.”

He shook his head again, certain he was hearing things, that his mind was playing tricks on him. And then he turned and looked into green eyes that mocked him, a laughing face that challenged him. She was sitting not far from the bank of the stream, knees lifted, her hands folded atop them, barely able to keep her mirth subdued.

He looked like a Greek god, Alexis thought, as he rose from the streambed, naked and shimmering in the light, the water sluicing off him as he stepped closer to the bank.

“Did anybody ever tell you that you were nothing but trouble?” he asked, and then his eyes narrowed as she faced him, unafraid. “What are you doing here?”

“Which shall I answer first?” she mused aloud. And then grinned. “I told Cookie I wanted to get on my mare for a while, and he accommodated me.” Her mouth seemed to be full of cotton, her breath nonexistent as she searched for words to speak in answer to his first query.

“As far as being ‘nothing but trouble,’ no, not really,” she said finally, hurting that he thought of her in that light, his scornful look making her feel small and insignificant before him. He’d walked from the water and stood just in front of her, unashamed of his nakedness, it seemed, and unwilling to turn aside from her scrutiny.

He was magnificent, black-haired, blue-eyed and, altogether, a giant of a man well over six feet tall. Not that he was built on bulky lines, but she’d noticed him, tall and tapered from shoulders to hips, long legged with taut thighs under denim pants that seemed to have been made for him. He was enough to make a woman’s mouth water, she’d thought, her mind a fog.

And now he had shed those trousers before he went into the stream and right before her eyes was the proof of his masculinity, bold and brazen, obviously ready for business.

“Why don’t you put your clothes on?” she asked, noting the uneven tenor of her voice.

“I was here first,” he told her. “I didn’t invite you to invade my bath. But since you have, you’ll have to take the consequences.”

She felt her heart pick up speed. Whatever he meant by that enigmatic statement was up for grabs. And she wasn’t about to ask any questions as to his meaning. Instead, she gathered up her things and rose. Now, as never before, she sensed his power, his strength, the force of his masculine being, and she rued her impetuous behavior.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have interrupted you. I’ll leave.”

He took her arm, not in a tight grip, but firmly enough so that she knew she could not escape him should she try. “Why don’t you stay, now that we’ve become better acquainted?” he asked.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” she said quickly.

He laughed and turned her to face him. “Don’t you?”

“Yes, well I suppose I do, but I don’t agree. The fact that I’ve seen you naked doesn’t make our acquaintance any more welcome to me.” She tried to look anywhere but at his body, but the brush of dark hair on his chest tempted her to touch the curls and weave her fingers through the lush length of silky fur he wore. It narrowed into a slender arrow, pointing downward, and she knew without looking just what lay in that direction.

“You’re blushing,” he said quietly. “Am I to assume you’ve never seen a naked man before?”

“You’d assume right,” she answered, with heat still rising in her face.

“Well, don’t let me hinder your first experience,” he said softly, his other hand moving to wrap long fingers around her shoulder, then drawing her closer.

“Don’t,” she said harshly. “I’ll get all wet.” Then she wondered if it might not be worth it to have his body against her own.

His laughter mocked her. “Does that matter? Don’t you want to know what sort of danger you’ve gotten yourself into?”

“You won’t hurt me,” she told him, looking up into blue eyes that were amused at her expense.

“Maybe not, but then again, they tell me that a woman’s first time is usually painful,” he said softly. His slow enunciation of words, the mellow tone of his voice lulled her a bit, but she rallied quickly. He was laying it on pretty thick, but unless she was mighty mistaken, he wouldn’t take any chance of her father chasing after him with a shotgun.

“I’m not afraid of you,” she said, wondering at the quiver in her voice.

“Aren’t you? Then why are you trembling?”

Her hands had rested against his chest and as she watched, her fingers fought to be still, her body shook as if it were chilled from a summer cold.

She felt her mouth twitch, knew a moment of despair then bent her head, knowing she owed him an apology, hoping it would appease him so that she might leave. “Please let me go, Jamie. I’m sorry I intruded. Just let me—”

Her words were cut off abruptly as he bent to her, one hand forcing her head erect, so that their eyes met. His mouth was hot, and open against hers, and his scent, that of a male who has seen his mate and intends to blend his body with hers, enveloped her.

How did she know? What inner sense allowed her to so easily judge the aroma of an aroused man? But, all her confusion aside, she knew she was in imminent danger, not only from the man who held her, but from herself. For she welcomed his kiss, leaned into his embrace as though it were the answer to her prayers, and now his questing male member was making its intention known against her belly.