Cowboy To The Altar

In that moment he remembered Vera. She had breached his defences, and he had lived to regret it.

His tone turned to ice. ‘You mentioned a contract.’

She seemed to be making an effort to control her emotion. ‘Yes...’

‘I need to see it.’

‘Of course,’ she said. ‘I’ll get it from the car.’

A few minutes later Morgan was handing Jason a folded envelope. As he took it from her his hand brushed against hers. In a second the wish to protect her turned into a strong desire to kiss her.

Wordlessly he looked at her. To his surprise, he saw that her lips were quivering. Their eyes clashed, dark eyes holding blue ones for an interminable moment. Then Morgan was stepping away from him, and Jason told himself that he was glad of the distance she had created.

He looked down at the envelope in his hand. When he looked up again his expression was sombre. ‘All there, isn’t it?’ he said at last.

She was watching him intently. ‘Sounds as if you’re accusing me of something. What exactly do you mean, Mr Delaney?’

‘You put in every damn clause you could possibly think of.’

‘If there’s something you want to say why don’t you just say it?’

Jason gave a short, derisive laugh. ‘Oh, come, Morgan Muir, don’t look at me with those innocent blue eyes of yours. We both know who drew up this contract.’

Morgan seemed to be controlling her anger with some difficulty. ‘You talk as if I’ve committed a crime. I haven’t.’

‘I take it you typed this.’

‘Brent said he didn’t know how. One of us had to do it.’

‘If that was all there was to it. But you did more than type this, Miss Muir. These words...’ Jason tapped the pages impatiently ‘are not part of Brent’s vocabulary. I doubt he could draw up a contract if his life depended on it.’

‘I still don’t know what I’m being accused of.’

‘Getting what you want. In that, you’re like—’ Jason stopped abruptly.

‘Like?’ Morgan asked curiously.

Jason looked away from her. ‘Someone I know.’

‘A woman?’

‘Not that it’s your concern, but yes.’

An odd expression appeared in Morgan’s eyes, one that Jason had not seen until now. He wished he knew what it meant.

After a moment she said, ‘That’s what I thought...from the way you spoke...’ She paused. When she spoke again her tone was defensive. ‘There’s nothing wrong with the contract.’

‘Except that you’ve ensured your stay at Six-Gate Corral for a month.’

‘Sure I did. But the contract works two ways.’ Morgan’s voice was tight now. ‘It’s true that I made certain of my place at the ranch but, as I said earlier, we’re both protected. Brent knows I’ll be doing his work while he’s gone—that I’ll be taking care of things for him. That was important to him, knowing that the men would continue to eat well while he was away.’ Blue eyes seemed to be asking for understanding.

Jason’s gaze raked her face. ‘I hope you’re not expecting preferential treatment.’

Morgan tilted her chin up at him. ‘Of course not!’

‘Just so long as that’s understood.’

‘Absolutely.’

‘You’ll find the hours long.’

‘No longer than the ones I’m used to working.’

‘The heat will get to you.’

‘I like heat.’

‘Not the kind we get here,’ he said grimly. ‘You were wilting outdoors. You asked to go inside.’

‘You have to admit it’s a scorcher.’

‘It is,’ Jason admitted after a moment. ‘The heat will get to you, nonetheless.’

‘If it does it will be my problem, not yours.’

‘And the dust.’

‘I’ve been in other dusty places. Dust does wash off.’

She was spirited—he had to hand her that much. If what she said was true—the experience with Vera had taught him not to take a woman’s words at face value—then she was certainly determined and fearless.

‘You’ll have to be up long before dawn to prepare breakfast.’

‘When I’m modelling my day often starts at that time.’

He was running out of ways to put her off. ‘If there’s a round-up you could find yourself cooking out on the range, preparing food in a chuckwagon. You wouldn’t find that much fun, Morgan Muir.’

‘Oh, but I would! I’m longing to see a round-up! It’s one of the reasons I’m here.’

Her eagerness startled him. ‘You are?’

Morgan smiled at him, the kind of smile that had a way of shafting its way straight to a man’s heart. ‘Cooking in a chuckwagon—that’s all part of the dream, part of the adventure. So stop trying to frighten me, Mr Delaney. Can’t you see by now that I don’t frighten so easily?’

Jason did see; he saw many things. But he still had a challenge left in him. ‘Don’t assume that the fact you’re a woman—and a model—will carry any weight around here. The cowboys are concerned with cattle and horses; they don’t know the first thing about fashion.’

‘If they did I wouldn’t be here.’

‘I’m not interested in your career either.’

She shot him another one of those heart-melting smiles. ‘I never thought you were.’

His eyes sparkled back at her, and for a second his lips curved in a grin. ‘You’ll be treated just like the men.’

‘Haven’t we been over that already?’

‘I want to be sure you understand.’

‘I do. Feel absolutely free to think of me as one of them.’

The suggestion was so absurd that he gave a shout of laughter. ‘Difficult—when we both know you’re not a man.’

‘Mr Delaney—’

“That’s one thing even you can’t argue about, Morgan Muir—you are not a man.’

Once more he studied her, only this time his eyes went from her face to her delectable body—skimming the line of her slender throat, lingering on the curve of soft breasts and descending to her waist and hips and thighs. When he looked up again he saw that her cheeks were flushed once more and her eyes stormy.

‘I don’t know how to convince you, Mr Delaney. True, I’m not a man, but nothing would please me more than if you treated me like one of the men. I wish you’d believe me. As far as you’re concerned, I’m just one more ranch-hand.’

‘Ranch-hands know they’ll be fired if they don’t perform satisfactorily. This contract...’ Jason handed it back to her contemptuously ‘...doesn’t protect you from that.’

Morgan gave him a cheeky grin. ‘Thanks for the warning. I won’t give you cause to fire me.’

Once more their eyes met. Then Jason glanced at his watch. ‘The men will be returning from the range soon. They’ll be hungry. Time to prepare your first meal, Morgan Muir.’

CHAPTER TWO

MORGAN had just finished making supper when the cowboys began to enter the cookhouse.

They came in singly and in little groups. They were tall, broad-shouldered men, with arms and chests that rippled with muscle. Men with faces that were deeply tanned, despite the stetsons they wore at all times, with far-seeing eyes—as if they were accustomed to looking across great distances. Attractive men, though not one of them was anywhere near as attractive as Jason Delaney. Morgan made the comparison without thinking.

She stood quite still for a moment as she remembered the quiver that had shot through her at her first sight of the ruggedly good-looking rancher. He was so handsome that he could have stepped straight out of a western movie—a gorgeous younger version of a tough Clint Eastwood—the good guy who could take on ten mean men single-handed and not be defeated.

She gave herself a small mental shake. So what if Jason Delaney was the most attractive man she had ever met? He was also impossibly autocratic and arrogant, and he had better not become her yardstick for all men. In fact, the less time she spent in the company of the man the better.

Almost to a man, the cowboys seemed amazed to find her standing at the long cookhouse table.

‘Hi, I’m Morgan Muir,’ she introduced herself. And when they continued to stare at her she elucidated, ‘The new ranch cook. Didn’t Brent tell you about me? Well, maybe not.’

They glanced at one another and then back at her, almost as if she were an alien being blown in by the hot Texas wind—as if they couldn’t quite believe that she was real. Morgan reminded herself that they probably had little daily contact with women. She’d have to give them time to get used to her.

‘I’m really looking forward to getting to know you all better.’ She smiled, the unconsciously lovely smile that had affected Jason so strongly.

‘Sure look forward to it, too, honey—sooner the better,’ responded one of the men. He stood a little apart from the others, a man with a cruel face and lascivious eyes. She’d been wrong about this particular cowboy, Morgan realized. She’d have to watch out for him.

A moment later another cowboy said, ‘Take it easy, Hank.’

‘Don’t need no warning from you, Charlie.’

‘Take no notice of him,’ Charlie advised Morgan. ‘Glad to meet you, Miss Muir. All the men are. Welcome to Six-Gate Corral.’ In contrast to Hank, Charlie had a gentle face and his smile was warm and welcoming.

At least she’d have one friend at the ranch, Morgan thought gratefully. ‘Thanks, Charlie. Please don’t call me Miss Muir, guys. I’m used to being called Morgan.’ Her eyes swept over the men, all except Hank. ‘I guess you’re all pretty hungry after a day out on the range. Supper’s ready.’

She had taken great care with the meal. The cookhouse cupboards and freezers were well stocked with frozen foods, as well as with perishables. Without Brent to -tell her what to prepare and reluctant to ask Jason, Morgan had planned the menu herself. Although she had never cooked for thirty men—a finger-foods party was more up her particular alley—she had always been resourceful.

Steak. The cowboys would like that, and there was loads of it in the freezers. Morgan had marinated the meat in a sauce made of lemon juice and spices, then broiled it and topped it with mushrooms. To accompany this were potatoes, halved and herbed and baked to perfection, a medley of carrots and peas and also a salad. And for dessert there was the frozen apple pie she had found in one of the freezers, warmed up to be served with ice cream. The cookhouse table was well scrubbed but bare. Morgan’s final touch consisted of two glasses—she had been unable to find a vase—filled with wild grasses and placed at either end of the long table for decoration.

When the cowboys had seated themselves she put the platters of food on the table. Then she stood back, waiting while they helped themselves and eagerly anticipating their reaction to the meal she had set before them.

The reaction was not long in coming, only it was not the appreciative one that a bewildered Morgan had expected. The men did not take long to clear the platters. The complaints started when they asked for more food and discovered that there wasn’t any. A rumble of discontent, begun by the obnoxious Hank and taken up by the others, became an uproar. Only Charlie refrained from taking part. He told Morgan that the food was delicious.

‘Delicious be damned!’ Hank roared. ‘Are we men or a bunch of silly chickens?’

‘Chickens!’ Morgan defended herself indignantly. ‘It’s obvious you don’t appreciate a good meal.’

‘Call that a meal, lady? More like an appetizer.’

‘Now, Hank,’ Charlie said, ‘Morgan tried.’

‘Not enough, Charlie,’ called one of the other cowboys. ‘Not enough.’

‘You’re used to Brent’s meals. I understand that.’ Morgan struggled to make herself heard above the din. ‘I’m truly sorry you didn’t like the meal. Tell me what you want and I’ll see you get it next time. All I ask is a bit of time.’

‘We’re hungry now, honey,’ Hank sneered.

‘Hungry now! Hungry now!’ chorused the cowboys. ‘Hungry now!’

Morgan pushed an unsteady hand through her hair. She was at the freezers, about to take out more steak, when a new voice—one ringing with authority—demanded, ‘What’s going on here?’

Morgan spun around as the noise in the cookhouse suddenly stilled. Tilting her head, she found herself looking into Jason Delaney’s rugged, hard-boned face. Stressed though she was, Morgan found herself once again noticing shoulders that were impossibly wide and hips sexily narrow—a body that was lean and muscled.

‘What are you doing here?’ she asked.

‘Came to see how you were getting on,’ he said. ‘Just as well I did, by the looks of it.’

‘You should have seen what this dame tried to pass off as a meal, Boss,’ Hank complained. ‘Steak so small you could hardly see it.’ He held up an enormous hand to demonstrate. ‘Bits of potato with some kind of stuff stuck to them.’ He pointed to the food which one of the cowboys had pushed away in disgust. ‘Just take a look at this, Jason. We’re men, Boss, not a bunch of halfweaned toddlers.’

‘I liked it,’ Charlie said.

‘Charlie’s appointed himself the lady’s shining knight,’ Hank said in disgust. ‘Won’t do, Boss. We’ve all had a hard day; we need to eat. Pretty lady here may make a man feel good at night, but she sure doesn’t know what it takes to feed one.’

‘Watch what you say, cowboy.’ Morgan spoke with a firmness that not a few men would have had rueful cause to recognize, the same firmness with which she addressed men who tried to take liberties with her. Most of the time it was successful in keeping unwanted advances at bay.

Hank, however, was unabashed. ‘Oh, yeah?’ came the insolent drawl.

‘You have a foul mouth, cowboy. I won’t stand for it.’

‘Oh, yeah?’ Hank said again.

‘That’s enough,’ Jason warned levelly.

‘But—’ Morgan said hotly, only to stop as a warning hand closed over her arm.

She was unprepared for the tingling that shot instantly from her wrist all the way up to her shoulder. But the touch did not last for seconds later Jason was turning back to the men.

‘This is Morgan,’ he said calmly. ‘She’s substituting for Brent. She means well but she’s not familiar with our ways yet. Say, why don’t you guys kick a ball around outside? We’ll have some more dinner ready for you in a jiffy.’

To Morgan’s surprise, the cowboys did as he suggested. Minutes later she could hear a ball-game starting near the cookhouse.

Jason’s defence of her had been so unexpected that she said gratefully, ‘Thanks for coming to my rescue.’

The rancher placed a pile of frozen steak to thaw in a huge microwave, before turning to her. Aloofly he said, ‘I didn’t do it for you.’

‘I thought...’ She broke off, dismayed at the hardness she saw in the ruggedly chiselled face. Not for the first time she wondered why Jason had taken such a dislike to her.

‘Didn’t fancy a mutiny on my hands,’ he said drily.

‘A mutiny?’

‘You heard what Hank said—they’re men and they’re hungry.’

‘I didn’t cook enough and I’m sorry about that. But that Hank, he’s crude and a big-mouth,’ Morgan said hotly.

‘He’s also,’ the rancher said, ‘one of the finest cowboys on this ranch.’

‘It doesn’t bother you—the way he talks?’

‘As I said, Hank is an excellent cowboy.’ Jason’s tone was abrupt. ‘An expert at roping a steer or calming an excited horse.’

‘That doesn’t excuse his manners.’

‘I don’t hire men for their fine manners, Miss Muir.’

Her head jerked up. Morgan had never met a man like Jason Delaney—so sexy that her legs felt a little weak when she looked at him, and at the same time so cold and arrogant and contemptuous.

An unaccustomed wildness drove her to speak without thinking. ‘Maybe that’s because you don’t have any manners yourself, Mr Delaney. You’ve been rude from the moment you set eyes on me.’

A hand shot out, grabbing Morgan’s wrist and closing around it with fingers like iron. Dark eyes spoke volumes of contempt. ‘If telling you that I disapprove of your presence at my ranch makes me rude then perhaps that’s what I am. I didn’t invite you here, Morgan. You’re quite free to leave any time you like.’

Morgan tried to suppress the flames which were once more searing her arm, the sudden thudding of her heart and the treacherous, utterly unwelcome stirrings deep in her loins. ‘You’re forgetting the contract.’

Sparks flashed in Jason’s eyes. ‘Notwithstanding the contract.’

‘I know you want to see me go,’ she taunted.

He chose not to answer the taunt directly. ‘You shouldn’t have come in the first place—but you know that.’

‘Brent wouldn’t agree with you.’

‘After the disastrous meal you produced?’

‘Was it really so bad?’ She tried to hide her distress.

Jason didn’t answer her immediately. Tensely Morgan watched him at the microwave, taking out one lot of steak and putting in another.

When he looked back at Morgan his lips were tight. ‘You saw the reaction of the men,’ he said brusquely. ‘Hank was right about one thing—the cowboys have been out on the range since dawn, sweating it out in the heat and the dust. Riding hard, working hard physically. They come back here, expecting a decent meal, and look what they got instead. They had every reason to be angry.’

‘It was a mistake.’ Her tone was low. ‘I realize now that I didn’t cook enough, but I did do my best.’

‘You should have known, Morgan.’

‘If Brent had stayed to explain...to show me around...’ For some reason it was very important that this very dynamic man should think well of her.

‘Any ranch cook worth his or her salt should know how to prepare a meal for a bunch of hungry men.’ His tone was a shade dry. ‘I wish I knew what you were thinking of when you applied for the job, Morgan.’

If only he were not so unyielding. Morgan swallowed hard. ‘I told you, it’s important to me...’

Jason put the thawed steak on the cookhouse grill, then opened a few huge cans of chili. Nobody would go hungry that night, after all.

He turned his head to look at her. A little roughly he said, ‘It won’t work out, you know.’

‘You’re wrong, it will!’

‘I don’t believe it, Morgan. If you’re honest, neither do you.’

‘But I do! And I mean to stay.’

‘I think you should leave tomorrow.’

‘Are you firing me?’ Her voice shook.

Jason was quiet for a few seconds, and Morgan saw a little muscle move in his hard jaw. ‘I don’t have grounds to fire you,’ he said at last, ‘but I’m asking you to go.’

Morgan looked at him unhappily. ‘I made a mistake,’ she whispered. ‘That’s all it was. People have to learn.’

‘There will be other mistakes.’

‘Not if I can help it.’

‘I don’t see any point in waiting, Morgan.’

Suddenly Morgan was very angry. If she didn’t fight Jason he would destroy her dream.

‘I won’t let you do this to me!’ Her voice throbbed with passion. ‘I deserve a chance.’

‘Doesn’t it mean anything to you that you’re riot wanted at this ranch?’

The words were like a hard blow in the stomach, but Morgan managed to hide her shock. Her chin lifted. ‘Not a thing,’ she lied.

She braced herself for Jason’s next verbal assault but, oddly, he was silent. For a few seconds the only sounds in the cookhouse came from the sizzling of the meat and the loud ticking of the clock on the wall.

And then Jason’s expression changed. Morgan saw his eyes going over her, and she drew in her breath. At twenty-two she was used to men. She was often photographed with male models, sometimes just posing with them, often with an arm slung around her shoulders and now and then a hint at something more amorous. Many a man had wanted to make love to her, inside as well as outside the confines of a studio, but she had never been interested. She had learned how to decline, politely but firmly, and still remain friends.

For some reason her reaction to this man was different. Morgan had never felt so disturbed and uncertain. Jason Delaney was undressing her with his eyes and she felt stripped and naked, acutely aware of the sparks which seemed to fill the air between them and conscious of his overwhelming maleness and of her own femininity.

‘It really means nothing to you that you’re not wanted?’ he asked softly.

‘I can only tell you that I intend to do my best.’ Her voice was not quite steady.

In the dark eyes there was a flash of steel and once more that tic in his jaw. ‘It won’t be easy,’ he warned.

‘Maybe not.’ The look she shot him was deliberately provocative. ‘But I asked you earlier not to frighten me. Don’t you understand that your scare tactics have no effect on me?’

After a long moment Jason smiled down at her. ‘I’m beginning to understand,’ he said.

It was a smile which made the anger leave Morgan. She looked at his dark eyes, his hard cheekbones and his sensuous lips—wondering inconsequentially how they would feel against hers—and knew that she had never met anyone as attractive as Jason. Her heart was beating so hard now that she made herself take a quick step away from him lest he heard it.

‘Then you will let me have my chance?’

‘I’ll be watching you every moment.’ Behind the smile lay a threat.

‘I’ll do my best,’ she said again.

‘Let’s both hope it will be good enough.’

The steak was sizzling on the grill and the chili simmering in a huge pot when the cowboys filtered back into the cookhouse. They sat down at the long table and proceeded to eat, amazing Morgan with the extent of their appetites and the size of the portions they piled on their plates. She had not known that men could eat so much.

‘They’re cowboys, not male models watching their figures.’ Laughter glinted in Jason’s eyes, as if he had guessed Morgan’s thoughts.

She was awed. ‘I had no idea.’

The glint intensified. ‘You should know, Morgan, that Brent usually eats in the cookhouse with the men.’

A little taken aback at the thought of sitting down at the long table and partaking of the gargantuan meal, Morgan hastily shook her head. ‘Tomorrow perhaps. I’m not hungry now.’

‘Actually,’ he said, ‘I was going to tell you to eat with me.’

Morgan’s head jerked. ‘With you, Mr Delaney?’

His eyes sparkled at her expression. ‘Since it seems we’re going to be stuck with each other for a while, don’t you think you should start calling me Jason?’

Jason... It was a nice name. Strong. For some reason Morgan looked forward to saying it when she was alone—when she could enjoy the sound of it on her tongue.

‘Well, Morgan?’ he asked.

‘You don’t eat with the cowboys?’ The invitation—if it could be called that—had caught her completely off guard, and she had to say something.

‘Brent usually cooks for me at the house.’

‘In that case, I will too.’

‘Brent cooked enough for a week before he left.’ On a slightly softer note Jason added, ‘You’ve been driving all day. You’re probably exhausted.’

Jason Delaney showing a little human sympathy and friendliness? Miracles would never cease!

‘Not too tired to do my job,’ Morgan said spiritedly. ‘And in case you’re trying to trick me, Jason, forget it—I’m not about to fail another test.’

The tall rancher grinned, a daredevil grin that did alarming things to Morgan’s senses. ‘Neither a trick nor a test. I have enough for two so you might as well share it.’

With difficulty Morgan resisted the temptation to accept. ‘I told you,’ she managed, ‘I’m not hungry.’

Jason laughed, the sound low and dangerous. ‘As you like.’ He made no further effort to persuade her.

When Morgan emerged from the cookhouse some time later there was no sign of Jason. Although it was still hot outside, the western sky was now tinged with pink and long shadows lay over the brushlands. On the hardbaked ground beyond the bunkhouse another ball-game was in progress. Morgan walked in the opposite direction: she had no desire for another unpleasant run-in with Hank.

She was frowning as she looked at the shadows all around her. For the first time since she had arrived at Six-Gate Corral she was wondering where she would spend the night. If her employer had been anyone but Jason Delaney, Morgan would have had no hesitation in asking him what to do, but Jason unnerved her to such an extent that she was reluctant to ask him the question.