The Rancher's Virgin Acquisition(15)

He lifted the pistol, cracked it open and spun the carriage until the bullet shells fell to the ground in front of him. She stood closely and watched him in silence and he was aware of a fine trembling that controlled her body. He was about to reload but her scent and his anger made him think twice. With a twist of his hand he closed the chamber and laid the barrel of the warm gun on her shoulder, moved it down across the material of her dress at her collarbone, and then slowly lowered it between her breasts.

Emma felt an explosion of shock when the gun touched her. She snapped her eyes closed as he rubbed the steel up and down, between the valley of her breasts. It was still warm from being fired, and Emma felt the heat seep through her clothes and warm her skin underneath.

"You've been a bad girl, Emma." His voice was whiskey smooth, beguiling.

She trembled from head to foot. Rationally, she knew the gun was empty, she'd heard the six shots herself and seen the scattered carriages. But even with that, the feel of the gun rubbing against her sent a sliver of apprehension through her blood. She felt helpless, completely powerless as he monopolized her space, warned her in an almost silent, tangible way that he was the one in control. And although his words were few and he was talking softly, she understood that was completely deceptive.

He was angry and she knew it.

He wrapped his hand in her hair above her shoulder blades and used it to jerk her head back. The movement lifted her chin until he was only inches away from her upturned face. Her inhalations came in ragged gasps as he moved the barrel of the gun over one breast and used it to caress her nipple in a display so uncivilized she steeled her body against it.

She hung like that for an abbreviated moment in time while his breath became shallower, his scent washed over her, and she knew she wasn't going to escape from this completely unscathed.

"I'm trying to figure out what kind of punishment you need." His voice was guttural and left her in no doubt that he meant to carry through with whatever discipline he decided on. Her eyes flew open again but she was mute as she watched him in stark terror.

"I know what I want to do to you. But I'm afraid I might hurt you if you fight me." His eyes were gleaming, Emma saw male arousal and rage pulsing from his face and her terror grew as he continued to calmly talk to her while he rubbed the gun barrel against her nipple. "I'd ask you to promise you won't fight me, but we both know your promises mean nothing."

Her eyes closed once again as the pain of that barb hit home. She'd always thought she was a very moral person, a good person with good values. It wasn't like her to be a liar. It made her feel bad knowing she'd brought this on herself.

She heard the air hiss from his mouth as he expelled another hot breath. "So I'm gonna warn you, Emma. Best not fight me, or you'll make it worse on yourself."

Emma was jolted from panic and alarm to being paralyzed with fear. She kept her eyes closed and felt it the second he took the gun away from her breast and quickly reloaded it before he holstered it, low on his side.

He reached down and encapsulated her wrist with his brawny hand, and Emma was subjected to the strength that she knew was never far below his surface as he began to drag her physically back to the house.

She stumbled once and he stalled in his tracks and gave her time to compensate.

She stumbled twice and he lifted her in his arms without a word and carried her in his arms as if she weighed nothing.

Maria was leaving her cabin and walking toward the house when they crossed the yard. Luke yelled a brusque command for her to stay put and Emma only had a second to look over his shoulder and see the look of shock on the housekeeper's face.

Fear was congealing in her throat and no matter what he had warned her about, she couldn't stay still and began struggling, suddenly too frightened to contemplate being alone with him in the house with the mood he was in.

His arms were like steel vises as he tightened them around her. "Stay still, Emma."

The grating sound of his voice in her ear only scared her more and she began struggling like a wild thing trying to get free.

He held her so tightly she began to panic that he would cut off her oxygen, but within seconds the door was being opened and he stepped inside, shut and bolted it, and then let her slide to the floor in front of him.

She turned and began to move away from him as quickly as she could, but he grabbed her neck from behind and turned her back towards him with his hand fisted in her hair.

"You best stay still. You know you've got this coming." His voice was hard, determined to mete out whatever punishment he saw fit.

"What?" she asked as loudly as she could manage but knew it barely came out a whisper. "What do I have coming?" She'd never been whipped or beaten before in her life, but by the looks of him, that was exactly what he had in mind and she was all at once terrified and enervated because of it.

"I told you once before you'd better get used to obeying me. That didn't do a bit of good, did it?" His voice growled the words and he pulled her up against his body by her hair and stared down into her face with glittering eyes.

"I'm sorry!" she tried to placate him with an apology.

"No, I don't think you are. But you're gonna be, by the time I get through with you."

Emma froze at the threat. She could feel her body shaking, hear her own heartbeat in her ears, and licked her dry lips in an attempt to bring words to her throat.

He held her tightly, and she thought he was going to shake her.

But he didn't.

He slowly released her hair, and moved his hands to grip her forearms in a tight hold. His face was within inches of hers and she was so close to him she could see his nostrils flaring.

"You better listen and you better listen good. This is my ranch. When you're on my ranch, you do as I say. No questions asked, no explanation given. I don't have to explain shit to you, or anybody else, got that?" He spoke viciously, and she felt tormented that he had this much anger for her.

She nodded her head, ready to agree with whatever he said to end this lesson in male dominance.

But he wasn't finished and continued berating her. "I'm not just trying to be a mean son of a bitch, Emma. I don't have to try. I am a mean son of a bitch. You need to get it through that thick head of yours that this ranch is thousands and thousands of acres of rough terrain. There's no law out here except for me and my gun, and there's danger all around you. This land is too rough on a girl with an injury. You could have stumbled and the snakes would have gotten you for sure." The flow of his words stopped for a minute as he lifted his hat off his head and tossed it on the kitchen table. He ran his fingers through his dark, sweaty hair until it stood up in short, twisted locks. He shook his head back and forth as if he were trying to get a hold of his runaway emotions. "I shouldn't have let you stay. I should have sent you to town. No woman with an injury like yours has any reason in the world to be out here in danger. This is my fault."

The terror that had risen in Emma's throat gave way to despair. With a sinking feeling of finality, she knew for certain that the only reason he'd brought her here, the only reason he looked at her the way he did, and kissed her with such passion, was because he thought her injury was temporary. If he knew it was an impediment that she would carry with her for the rest of her life, she would have already been in town.

Her thoughts when she had first met him had been accurate. She'd gone into this thinking she might experience a kiss or two, and she had. And they had turned out to be all she had ever dreamed about and more, but that was all they could ever be. The insidious feelings she had that were creeping through her brain, trying to tell her that she could have more, were just foolish thoughts indeed. She'd never have more from him.

The life she knew before the stagecoach robbery was all she'd ever have in this world and there was no reason to let foolish dreams or crazy ideas take hold of her.

But at least there was one thing.

He didn't look as if he were about to beat her any longer.

She'd experienced his kiss and that was all it would ever be and now it was past time to confess. She sucked in a deep breath and looked into his beautiful, anguished eyes.

"It's not your fault, Luke," her words were soft but firm.

"Bullshit."

Emma jerked from the curse word but persevered in what she needed to tell him. A flicker of apprehension coursed down her spine and she hoped desperately this wouldn't set off his anger all over again, but she needed to do this and she needed to do this now.

"I lied to you."

His hands were once again fisted around her upper arms, and she felt them tighten when she made that rather bald announcement.

His face clouded with disquiet and she could tell he was trying to follow the change of topic. "What'd you lie about?"

She tried to steady her erratic pulse but it was impossible. "I didn't twist my ankle."

His hawk like eyes pierced hers. "What do you mean? You've been limping. It's gotten better some, but--"

She couldn't stand it anymore and she cut him off. "I stepped on a rock that day in the garden and hurt myself. That was making my limp more pronounced, but my foot isn't sore anymore."

He stared at her, completely baffled. "Your limp?"

Her mind troubled, she fought to control her raging emotions. "The limp you see is from an old injury, I've had it for years." Her stomach clenched tight, and she forced herself to say the words that would probably end her stay on his ranch. "It will never get better."