The Rancher's Virgin Acquisition(23)

His voice was low and deep, still raspy from lack of use. "You're not going anywhere."





Chapter Ten


Emma pulled back but his hold on her was like a vise; it was unrelenting as it held her in place.

"It's time, Luke," she said in the firmest voice she could muster.

"No, bullshit, it's not time. This got something to do with what I said yesterday?" He was pissed. More pissed at himself than with her.

"No," she denied and she continued to twist her arm in an attempt to free herself.

"I don't believe you."

"Why would I lie?"

"Well, now, that's a question, isn't it, Emma?" he asked as the sarcasm in his tone couldn't help but remind her that he had caught her out in a lie once before.

Her heartbeat accelerated and she was afraid he could feel it where his hand held her wrist. Her blood banged loudly in her veins as he confronted her.

"What do you want me to say, Luke?"

"I don't want you to say anything. I want you to admit--"

Emma interrupted his words as she began to get angry. "You can't always have what you want, Luke!"

His eyes narrowed on her and his voice deepened. "If I had everything I wanted, you'd be naked and spent in my bed right now. You'd have been there since I brought you home on that very first day." He jerked on her wrist and she took a stumbling step toward him. "If I had everything I wanted, I'd have the memory of your taste on my tongue, I'd have the knowledge of what your breasts looked like naked, and what you sound like when you come."

Emma gasped and he pulled her wrist again. She only understood about half of what he was saying, and it was so provocative, she didn't know if she wanted to know what the rest meant.

But he thought she knew, and with a click in her brain, she realized that all she had to do was tell him the truth. All she had to do was tell him. And then he wouldn't be pulling on her wrist, he'd be shoving her away from him. He wouldn't be telling her she couldn't leave, he'd be taking her back to town.

Pain blossomed under her breastbone and she struggled with herself.

She thought about saying it right now, quick-fast, so the choice would be taken away from her. Then he'd know and nothing she could say or do would take that knowledge back from him. But she couldn't do it. She snapped her lips closed, and decided she'd give herself time to think it through.

"Let me go," she ordered through clenched teeth.

"No." His refusal was succinct.

"I'm going to town." Her voice was adamant as she began the argument again that she knew she wouldn't win.

"No, you're not." His jaw was clenched as he held himself rigidly.

"I'm going to town, and you can't stop me." Her words became a bit shrill as she squared her shoulders.

"No, you're not," he repeated, as low and calm as the first time.

She stamped her foot on the floor as hard as she could in a fit of temper. "You can't stop me, Luke!"

"I can, easily," he disputed.

"You can't keep me prisoner here." She wasn't in the least bit scared, only angry at his supreme arrogance.

"I can do any damn thing I want, Emma," he fired back.

"The sheriff would arrest you." She pulled on her arm again but it was useless, his fingers were like a band of steel around her.

"He'll never know." Luke gave her a smug smile.

"Somehow, I'll get word to him and he'll arrest you, hang you even!" Emma threatened him.

Luke bit out a laugh. "He's not going to hang me, Emma. We've been friends for years."

Emma stopped struggling for a second as that statement took her mind off the subject at hand for a moment. "The two of you are friends?" she questioned in a disbelieving voice.

"Yep." His thumb began making swirling patterns on the inside of her wrist.

"But the other day--it sounded as if ya'll disliked each other, were enemies, even."

"I didn't care for him questioning you, sweetheart. Didn't like it a bit. And he wanted to take you to town, and that purely pissed me off."

"But since he wanted to take me to town, wouldn't he be against you holding me hostage here?" she asked simply.

"Is that what I'm doing?" he asked in a deadpan voice.

"You're intentions aren't honorable, Luke!" she snapped back.

"This is about yesterday. I knew it." His voice sounded irritated and smug at the same time.

"It's not. I'm just ready to leave. Ready to resume my trip to Denver."

"You don't want to go to Denver yet," he stated firmly.

"Yes, I believe I do." She turned her head away from him as if he didn't exist.

"Just give it a few more days, Emma. I need your help right now. Maria needs your help," he cajoled. "If you still want to leave then, I'll take you into Burnet."

She looked back and examined his expression to see if he was telling her the truth. "Honestly?"

"Yeah, honestly."

She was silent and he began that maddening swirl of his thumb again.

"Can I have my breakfast now?" he asked in the seductive tones of a fallen angel.



Luke finished his breakfast and walked out to the barn. That had been too damn close. He'd damn near ruined things with his stupid mouth. Why the hell did he think he always needed to be so goddamned honest?

From now on, he wasn't going to give her any more damn ammunition to use against him. He'd said what needed to be said, but by damned if he'd repeat it again.

From now on, he'd keep her happy to be here. Happy to cook for him. Happy to play poker with him. Happy to share kisses with him.

Happy to sleep with him.

Yeah, from now on, he'd keep his damn mouth shut.



Luke walked into the house for the noontime meal more in control of his emotions. His food was waiting for him on the table and Emma stood next to the cabinet with three drawers opened and towels and dishcloths in different piles around her.

The scents of the kitchen hit his stomach and he realized how hungry he was. He'd been doing Jesse's work in addition to his own, and he needed a break. "Smells good," he said as he walked to the water pump.

He washed his hands and face, and picked a dishcloth from one of the piles and dried himself off. She wasn't saying a word, but had given him a distracted smile when he'd walked through the door.

"What are you up to?" He moved away from the counter and sat at the table.

"I'm sorting the towels out. Some of them need mending and I thought I'd do that after lunch."

He began to ladle out the thick stew into the bowl in front of him. "What about my clothes? I thought you were working on that."

"I finished this morning."

"Already?"

"Yes."

"There was a huge pile."

"Yes, but very little work to be done on them. Just a small tear or a missing button on each."

"So now it's the towels, huh?" he grunted.

"Now it's the towels," she agreed and then added, "You don't mind do you?"

"Why would I care?"

"Will Maria mind?"

"Don't know why she would."

"Fine, then. The mending will keep me busy for awhile."

"Sit down and eat with me."

"I already ate."

"Then sit down and keep me company."

"I'm not close enough to keep you company, standing right here?"

"You always have to argue about everything?"

Emma looked up from the pile of dishrags and clashed with the brown eyes narrowed on hers. She gave a delicate shrug of her shoulders, poured herself a glass of cool water, and sat down at the table where she had sat when they played poker.

"Is that better?"

He only grunted again and picked up his spoon and began eating.

"How's Jesse?"

He swallowed and took a drink of water. "He's better. The fever's gone. Luckily, he was only grazed. It could have been much worse."

"That's good. Does Maria need my help? I can relieve her for awhile, sit with Jesse while she rests?"

"Nah. Cody went in at dawn and let her get some sleep." He continued to eat as he watched her across the table.

"Well, all right then."

He changed the subject. "Stew's good. You can cook," he said in a tone that held some surprise.

"And you're just simply amazed by that fact, is that right?" her words held humor, but were tart all the same.

He studied her for a moment, his eyes going from the top of her head, dropping to her face, and then down to her breasts before landing on her eyes again. "Emma-girl, nothing about you surprises me anymore."

"Is that a good thing or a bad one?"

"It's a good thing. Don't care much for surprises, good or bad."

Emma didn't answer but just sat quietly while he ate his meal. When he was finished, he scraped back his chair and put his hat back on his head, then moved to stand over her. He raised her chin and her eyes lifted to his. "You cook real nice, Emma." His gaze held hers in a piercing stare. "Pretty face, sweet disposition." His voice was low and deep as his thumb ran back and forth over her lips. "Yep," he said as if he were talking to himself, "never had sweeter kisses. If a man could trust you to do as you're told--" His words dwindled off as he leaned down and carefully placed his lips on hers. He gave her one soft kiss and then stepped back and walked to the door. "I'll be back late, Emma. Best not wait up for me."

Emma had just enough energy left after that devastating assault on her senses to ask one question. "Was that the third kiss I owe you?"