The Rancher's Virgin Acquisition(21)

Emma followed him to the door where he stood holding it open. She slipped past him out into the fresh sunshine and inhaled deeply of the clean scent of the sunny day. Freedom. That's all she could think of at the moment; finally being out of the house without having to sneak out.

As they walked side by side to the corral, Luke questioned her. "You've never ridden before?"

"I rode a pony once when I was a child."

"Is your lack of experience because of your leg?"

"No, we just never had horses at the orphanage. Not even work horses. And Mrs. Carson, my past employer, never believed a lady should ride on horseback. She had a horse and buggy, and I learned to drive it. I was quite good at it. We went everywhere."

"Why aren't you still with her?"

"She died," she replied simply.

"And now you're going to be a seamstress."

"I have to have work."

"Why don't you just get married again?"

How should she answer that? He didn't seem to think her injury wasn't an impediment to marriage, so what could be her reason for not seeking out matrimony again? She couldn't think of a suitable reply but she needed to say something. "I didn't care for marriage." She could feel the heat rise on her face when she gave that answer, but he was turned away from her, busy saddling the horses, and she didn't think he noticed.

He smoothed his hand over the rump of the prettiest little mare that Emma had ever seen and turned to look at her. "I wouldn't like it either."

For some reason his answer sent a coil of pain rushing through her belly. "Why not?"

"Don't know. I haven't given it much thought." The only married people he spent any time with were Maria and Jesse and the couple wasn't usually together when he saw them. He was either working with Jesse, or in the house while Maria finished up her chores. But as far as he knew, they got along fine, had a nice family, and that was that. So why didn't he want to get married? When he was younger, there was always the prospect of riding into town on Saturday night and raising hell. Finding a game of cards, having a few drinks in the saloon, and finding a willing woman seemed about the most fun there was to be had. But lately, as he got older, going into town for any reason was a more of a burden than an enjoyment. Going out and finding sex used to be something he wanted to do; lately though, it was something he had to do. And there was a huge difference.

The time he spent when he wasn't working was precious to him because there was so little of it. Lately, all he wanted to do with his free time was relax on his front porch with a cup of coffee or a shot of bourbon as he watched the sun go down. No, chasing into town on a Saturday night didn't bring the enjoyment it had when he was younger.

And even so, marriage seemed like it would be a noose around his neck. Even though his ranch was thriving and more than plentiful, he always knew in the back of his mind that if it failed, he could saddle up his horse and take off, wander around until he found a new place to put down roots. With a wife he wouldn't be able to do that. He'd be taking on the responsibility of not only a woman, but any children the union   would bring.

And there was also the sexual and emotional aspect of marriage. It didn't bother him so much the idea of having sex with only one woman for the rest of his life, but more like, what if he chose the wrong woman? Marriage wasn't something you could easily get out of, it was a commitment he'd be making for the rest of his life. What if he married a shrew, someone that couldn't stand him, someone that didn't enjoy sex for what it was?

His mind turned to the game of poker he'd shared with Emma the night before and the game of checkers before that. If he thought about it at all, he figured that's what marriage was supposed to be like. Those few hours he'd passed in her company had been relaxing, even though he'd been sexually on edge most of the time. She was good company, undemanding, and her face and form were pleasant to look upon. He actually couldn't remember any time in the recent past when he'd had a better time.

But his emotions were volatile around Emma and that worried him. He'd never much cared what other people did or the chances they took. But Emma was different. The day he'd found her surrounded by snakes haunted him. He remembered the edgy, paralyzed feeling he'd had when he thought how close he'd come to ignoring that nagging feeling in his heart that something was wrong. She could have died so easily. And he'd been so angry with her. He'd never wanted to take somebody over his knee as badly as he'd wanted to with Emma that day. But he knew he couldn't. He was supposed to protect her, not endanger her, and the response she'd wrought in him made him uneasy.

He'd felt something almost violent that day. If he could have ripped her clothes from her body and expressed his feelings in a sexual way, he would have been able to calm down and know she was safe. If he could have had her under him, could have sunk into her and held her in his arms, felt her heart beating in her neck and under her breast, it would have gone a long way to relieve him of his fear. But he couldn't have that, he didn't have a sexual relationship with her, and his anger and fear had manifested itself in another way. He'd wanted to spank her bare bottom until she understood how scared he'd been, how much danger she'd put herself into, and make her see that she couldn't take chances like that again.

Emma needed to be in a nice town with nice people and nice doctors in case she ever needed one. If he ever married, the woman he married needed to be made of sturdy stuff, be able to saddle her own horse, needed to be able to run if the circumstances warranted it, needed to be able to tolerate the rough life living on a secluded ranch would bring.

Emma couldn't do those things. She was small and delicate with little wrists and tiny ankles and a leg that denied her the ability to get anywhere quickly.

He thought about the hot kisses they had shared the night before and the kisses he intended to give her before the day was over. Judging from her response to him, and his to her, no doubt Emma would make the kind of lifelong lover he'd choose if it were up to him. She was soft and beautiful, full of heat and desire, but he couldn't have her for keeps, even though he intended to be her lover before she left for Denver.

His voice was sharper than he intended when he spoke again. "I doubt I'll ever get married. Ranch life would be too hard for a woman."

Emma moved up beside him to run her hand lovingly over the mare's flank. "Maria seems to enjoy it," she said absently as she gave her attention to the animal.

"Maria's old. You're young."

Emma turned to him, a stunned expression on her face. "What do I have to do with anything?"

He studied her a long moment, trying to see inside her woman's mind. "Just making it clear to you now that even if I was in the market for a wife, you'd never fit." His words were harsher than he intended, but he said them more as a warning to himself than to her.

Her heart-shaped faced paled and sudden tears glistened in her eyes. But it took only a moment before her spine stiffened and she held herself rigidly before him. "I don't remember offering my services in that kind of domestic arrangement, sir."

"I didn't intend to hurt your feelings, Emma."

"You didn't. You couldn't," she denied.

"Then why are you crying?"

"I'm not crying," she hissed. "I'm not the one who's been instigating kisses. I've never thrown myself at you and hardly think I need a warning that I'm not good enough for you or your ranch. I'm not stupid enough to think you'd ever want a wife who is lame." Her words coming to an abrupt end, she lifted her hand from the animal and turned away from him.

Her shoulders were trembling and Luke felt a disturbing mixture of unwanted emotion. He knew he should be feeling guilty, contrite that he'd upset her, but the emotion that rushed through his veins and landed in a pool of heat in his gut was anger.

Anger that she misunderstood his meaning. Anger that she considered herself lame. Anger that she was pissed at him when he was the one that couldn't have her.

His hands landed on her waist and he pushed into her from behind. He crowded her until she was pressed up against the stall wall and her cheek pressed flat against the roughened wood as she turned her head to breathe.

He put his mouth to her ear. "You're not stupid and you're not lame," his voice was guttural. "And I better not ever hear you call yourself that again. What you are is stubborn. The most stubborn woman I've ever met. Don't turn things around and make it seem like I've said something I shouldn't have."

Emma was still and silent as she listened to him.

His hands slid to her hips and then around to her stomach, feeling her feminine form under the clothes she was wearing. He slid one hand to her breast and held it firmly, while he slid his other hand down to the vee between her thighs and cupped her intimately at the crotch of her britches. She gasped and he jerked her tighter as his strong arms wrapped around her in a relentless grip. "The fact is I want you bad, Emma-girl, and I'm gonna have you. Your body's screaming for mine, too, and we're going to do something about it. There's no damn reason we shouldn't. You're not innocent; you know the ways of men. Nobody but us will ever have to know. It'd be different if you were a virgin, but you're not."

Luke rubbed his palm over her feminine heat and felt it the moment she melted in his arms and her body released the silken fire he so badly wanted. She moaned and began undulating and for a split second he considered dragging her down to the hay and having her right then. But he didn't want their first time to be hurried. He wanted her soft and naked, her body glowing in the lamplight, in a bed where he could hold her afterwards. "I want sex from you Emma," he stated baldly, "but I don't want any misunderstanding where it's going to lead. I'm the one who's having to be noble, I'm the one who's going to have to let you go. Don't for one second think that I wouldn't like to keep your sweet little body chained to my bed for the rest of my godforsaken life, because I would if I damn well could."