Rancher Wants a Wife

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Breathless, she looked up at him. His dark hair, newly washed, tumbled to the sharp line of his eyebrows. His skin was tanned from the sun and the wind, and a muscle rippled in his cheek. Those eyes, those dark brown eyes the color of moist earth and swirling clay, swept over her. Not in such a detached manner as when she’d first arrived, but more pulsating, controlling, tempting.

Yet the two of them were still ill at ease with each other. He reached down and brushed a strand of hair from her left cheek, her good side, and stroked it. His touch caressed her skin.

Then he dropped his hand and glanced around the kitchen, as if scoping out what the housekeeper had arranged for them.

Cassandra took the moment to try to compose herself.

She’d lost her heart once to another man, with dire consequences, and didn’t wish to risk it again. Though she and Jack were now married, the peril she felt in possibly having her heart ripped out a second time, only to be replaced with a painful emptiness, made her cautious. Perhaps more so now that they were wed.

There was so much more to lose.

Maybe it was the heartless ruin of everyone she’d lost over the last five years that struck her with such force. First, learning the truth about Troy, his uncontrolled fits of temper when he drank, his dalliances with prostitutes, his words, “I always found you too prim and proper,” the last time they’d spoken. How could his pronouncement still hurt so much?

And then the second aching loss that would never be filled—the missing presence of her sister, Mary, and the loving protectiveness of her father. Cassandra would forever feel that pain.

It seemed that life’s sorrows didn’t stop at just one heartache. They kept coming and coming...and all she could do was try to protect herself the best she could.

Cassandra had tried her hardest to remain optimistic—especially in the boardinghouse, with the other women. Some had lost children in the fire, and that pain had to be indescribable.

Being here with Jack, she felt so terribly vulnerable and fragile.

He had the power to destroy her.

If she let him. If she let him into her heart, into her soul, into her very life.

It would be much simpler, much less damaging to her, if she kept him at a distance. If anything, the outburst by Elise Beacon today had forewarned Cassandra of how much she could still hurt. She wanted to ask Jack about that other woman, but now that they were alone, she was reluctant to bring it up and spoil their moment.

He turned around again, a smile lingering on his lips.

“You’re a very beautiful woman,” he murmured.

Beautiful? Really? Her?

Her breath tripped in her throat. It was the first sensual thing any man had said to her since the fire. But...would Jack be terribly disappointed, as Troy had been, when they became more intimate? Not that she had ever slept with Troy, but their relationship had been physical enough on one occasion that it still brought shame to her cheeks. He’d partially disrobed her.

How could she have been so deceived into believing he had loved her?

Stop it, she told herself. This was nonsense, thinking like this when she had another man, a more honorable man, standing before her, trying to express some gentle words.

“You look very dashing in your suit. I had a lovely day.”

“It’s not over,” he said, and indicated that she should look around the room.

To their right, the dining table had been set with a lovely assortment of fine china, sparkling goblets and silverware. A feast was about to be consumed. Candles about to be lit.

Yet what she noticed most was that Jack had removed his hand from her back moments ago. A cold shadow, a phantom of his masculine touch, lay there instead.

“A toast to us?” He offered her the choice between a white chardonnay and a red pinot noir. “They’re both superb wines from the area.” They settled on the red, and he poured.

“It’s very nice,” she said, upon tasting it.

There was something very romantic, yet also very much missing, when the two of them sat down to eat, both in their wedding attire. Jack was attentive to her needs, serving her the finest cut of roast beef she’d ever tasted, potatoes pulled that day, green beans mixed with a walnut sauce, and savory desserts of raspberry custard and lime pie.

If they had been in love, the dinner might have been incredibly sentimental and romantic. Instead, without family and dear friends to share it, it seemed lonely. And awkward, with the two of them trying to pretend they were totally at ease with one another, that there was nothing but food on their minds, that they weren’t both thinking apprehensively of the wedding night ahead.

* * *

Jack was trapped in a primitive urge of desire as he led Cassandra up the winding staircase to his wing of rooms. What red-blooded male wouldn’t be anticipating a night with such a woman? She appeared so innocent and demure on the outside—always had—and that made him imagine all the more what lay beneath that shield of white lace and scrubbed skin.

There’d been some problems today at the ceremony that he needed to explain, but not now. The talk he wasn’t too thrilled about having with her could wait a bit longer.

“This way,” he said, leading her by candlelight to the far room with the best view of the valley. “Your luggage should be right inside.”

“There.” She spotted the bags on the right side of the bed—her side—and blushed.

Was there anything she didn’t blush at?

“I’ll show you to the bath.”

“You’ve arranged a hot bath?” She followed him into his private dressing room.

“Of course.”

“Well, then, you’ve thought of everything.”

The massive room was lined in oak cabinets and armoires. Clay tiles covered the floor, along with a colorful Oriental rug he’d purchased on the docks of San Francisco, coming in from Hong Kong. Matching tapestries clung to the high walls. A freestanding pewter mirror stood in one corner, along with a basin and pitcher of water.

He took her down a private flight of stairs to a private bathing room. It was easier to have the tub on the main floor so that he or his staff could haul the water outside to drain.

Logs in the fireplace crackled softly. He walked to the cauldrons of steaming water hanging above the fire, lifted one and carried it to the claw-footed porcelain tub. He added its contents to the fresh cool water already there, prepared by his staff.

“You’ll find everything you need here. Soaps, lotions, towels.”

“It’s the most incredible bathtub I’ve seen in a very long while.”

When Cassandra turned to face him, the train of her wedding gown snagged on his cowboy boots. Her pretty blond braid nestled against her breast. Her eyes, as clear a blue as the sky in June, looked at him directly. Lord, she did wonders to his equilibrium when she gazed so boldly at him. Her nearness aroused him. All he wanted was to see her out of those stays and laces and whatever else she was wearing underneath that feminine cover, and to see her golden skin beneath him in bed.

“Take your time. But if you wait too long, I’ll come looking for you.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“Fair warning,” he replied with humor.

Her full lips softened.

He set the candle on the side of the tub and went up the stairs to the bedroom to retrieve her suitcase.

While he was there, he thought he should light a lantern for the bedroom, and another to provide her more light in the bath. He slid out of his boots, removed his formal jacket, tugged off his cravat and lifted the luggage and lantern. Quietly, in sock feet, he headed back down the stairs to the bathing room.

He hadn’t meant to startle her.

In his own state of pleasant shock, he stumbled upon her undressing.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean... I thought I’d bring you these....”

She was completely naked, with her luscious back turned toward him. Candlelight rippled over the beautiful curve of her spine, down the golden swell of her buttocks, and shimmered along the smooth length of her legs.

Dismayed by his sudden presence, she clutched her wedding gown to her front and whirled around, concealing herself. “Jack.” Her mouth puckered in dismay.

“More light,” he murmured in explanation, indicating that he’d brought the lantern. “And your clothes.” He set them down nearby, but couldn’t get his eyes off her beauty.

Her blond braid hung loosely over her bare shoulder. The soft curve of her collarbones swelled with every breath she took. She pressed the lace of her gown over her bosom and he couldn’t help but wonder how she might look if that dropped lower....

“Would you like me to leave?” he asked, restraining himself by every means he knew, but barely finding it possible due to the roaring of his blood.

Soft orange light glimmered over her cheeks. Every muscle in his body contracted, waiting for her answer.

“No,” she finally answered, and dropped her gown.

He was hypnotized as if by some magical trance. His eyes slowly raked over her body, starting with the lovely line of her throat, to the luscious swell of her jutting breasts and pointed pink nipples.

Her rib cage was remarkably slender, curving down to a flattened waist. His gaze hungrily sought the lower curves, following the rise of her belly to the triangle of blond curls, and her long, firm thighs.

Her voice was provocative. “Would you like to slip into the water with me, Jack?”

Chapter Five

Cassandra dipped her foot into the steamy liquid, loving the sensation of heat over her toes, then calves, then hips and breasts, then full nakedness. She felt more secure about herself beneath a layer of water; she was unaccustomed to any man gazing at her fully exposed, even if he was her husband.

It was her turn to gaze at Jack as he undressed.

Revealed by the lamplight, his expression was at first disquieted, as though he was unsure what to say. Then it was gone, his dashing face awash in a wicked glimmer of arousal and expectation. There were the mischievous dark eyes, the sensual mouth, the dimple in his chiseled jaw and the primal need she detected in the hurried pace of his breathing.

He draped his trousers on the back of a chair, followed by his gray waistcoat, then crisp linen shirt. She barely had the nerve to watch him, but then could barely turn away.

Stripped naked for a brief, glorious moment, he epitomized sexuality and rough strength. His chest rippled with muscles, his waist tapered to his hips, and his erection was so hard and upright she wondered how on earth they were supposed to fit together.

She stared, trying to fulfill her curiosity. So that’s what it looked like, the male part of him....

Embarrassed that she was staring, she reached for a cake of soap and slid it over her arm. How did a woman jump from being a virgin and shielding her most private parts from the eyes of men, to gain full acceptance and awareness of herself?

How was she supposed to be comfortable with this?

“Are you all right?” he asked, slipping one muscled leg into the tub, then the other. The hot water sloshed around them, nearly splashing over the top edge.

“It’s just that I’m not used to this.” She pretended to scrub dirt from her forearm.

“May I?” He took the soap from her, letting the bar slide between their fingers, ever so slippery and wet. “Relax,” he coaxed. “I won’t hurt you.”

He rubbed the cake up and down her arms, then the top of her shoulders, then down one breast. The cool soap slid over her areola, the sensation making the bud of her nipple swell. He moved the soap to her other side, then used his bare hands to lather her breasts. She inhaled in pleasure, leaned back and allowed him to caress her. She closed her eyes a moment, then felt the warmth of his mouth on her breasts.

The heat was incredible, the pull of wanton desire throbbing from her breasts to her stomach, making the center of her quiver with anticipation.

He teased her for a long time with his fingers, swirling them over her, down her arm, up the other one, across her collarbone and down her cleavage. He created a slowly building heat, until she was ready for so much more.

She opened her eyes and he approached, sliding on top of her, his large body on her slender one, splashing water over the tub edge and barely noticing. His mouth came down on hers.

Finally, a kiss.

It was soft and gentle. She’d gone too long without this, without a man in her life, without someone who wanted her.

The kiss didn’t last nearly long enough before he dragged his mouth along her left jaw and kissed her there, and down her neck. She gasped when he came back up the other side, over her jaw and pressed his rough cheek against her scarred one. It felt so intimate that she stopped breathing for a moment.

Then he ran his large hand along her waist and trailed down her hip and leg, making her burn with a splendorous promise that more was coming, soon to be hers.

The yearning. That shivery race of gooseflesh that rose and heaved. His hand was gliding farther down and over, and soon would reach...

Oh, he was there. That magnificent spot. He slid and stroked and pressed, slid and stroked and pressed, and just as she was ready, he lifted her out of the tub so her hips were raised up to his mouth, and he pressed his lips upon her.

It was exhilarating, the pleasure he brought. She was too alarmed, too surprised to fight it. His expert maneuvers were daunting. How did he know what she liked, what she wanted?