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The Rancher's Virgin Acquisition(7)

By:Lynda Chance


Twenty minutes later, as Emma was still sitting and dreaming about the garden, Maria came through and told her she would be out at the barn for an hour or so to take her husband his lunch. She explained that she did this every day, and then she would come back and prepare Luke's lunchtime meal as well.

As soon as the door closed behind Maria, Emma wasted no time but jumped up and walked as swiftly as she could through the back door and out to the garden. She looked around but saw no one else, and as Maria had walked in the opposite direction and the house stood between them, Emma felt safe wandering up and down the manicured rows of vegetables.

She spied radishes and turnips, potatoes and rhubarb. She picked a small, cherry tomato and popped it in her mouth. The sensation of tomato and sunlight hit her palate, and she closed her eyes and enjoyed being in a garden for the first time in many years.

She pulled a few weeds and tossed them away, knelt down and felt the soil to see if it was well irrigated, and slowly came to her feet again.

The vegetables were fat and overflowing, and she knew they needed to be picked or they would begin suffering. Surely Maria had too much to do and needed help with the chore.

Emma was determined to approach her with the offer if it turned out she would be here for awhile. Even if she wasn't, Emma would dearly love to be able to spend a few wonderful hours picking and preparing the vegetables for the table.

She couldn't stop herself, and gathered five large size yellow squash and held them close to her chest as she began to pick her way carefully back to the house.

She turned too quickly and stepped on a hard, protruding rock. Immediate pain shot through her right leg and she dropped the vegetables as she fell to the ground.

Clenching her teeth at the throbbing coming from the sole of her foot, she reprimanded herself silently for not being more careful. She sat on her bottom in the moist dirt and rubbed her foot, trying to ease the pain. She looked around her and rolled her eyes at her own carelessness. Now her only dress was covered in damp soil.

She slowly got to her feet and began picking up the precious squash. There was not a solitary chance she was going to leave the vegetables to rot after what she had just gone through.

Slowly, being more careful this time, she began walking back to the house. Her foot was still sore and she realized with a bit of humor that she was well and truly limping now. She was favoring not only her right leg, but her right foot as well.

She had only just left the cover of the garden when she saw Luke taking long strides toward her. He came to stand in front of her, and he said not a word.

As Emma stood in front of him holding her cache of squash, she felt exactly like a small child that was caught with her hand in the cookie jar. He towered over her, and she bit her lip and held it between her teeth as he studied her.

His eyes dropped to her mouth and when they stayed there, her pulse started racing and she darted her tongue out to lick her suddenly dry lips. His eyes slowly lifted to hers.

"What are you doing out here?" His voice sounded deceptively mild.

"Picking vegetables?" she responded.

"Are you asking me or are you telling me? Sounds like you're not too sure."

Her voice became stronger. "Yes, I was picking vegetables."

"Who said you could do that?" A dark frown covered his face.

"Nobody said I couldn't," she responded mildly.

"Did I tell you to stay off that ankle?" His tone changed to one of censure.

"Um, I believe you did."

"Are you off that ankle?" He taunted her.

"Not presently, no."

There was silence between them.

She shuffled her feet, trying to relieve the pain in her foot. He noticed the movement and cursed under his breath.

Luke swung her up in his arms and carried her through to the kitchen and dumped her in a chair at the kitchen table. She scooted as far back from him as she could until her spine hit the back of the chair. He grabbed the vegetables from her and tossed them on the table.

He needed her to understand how life on the ranch was. He leaned down and put his hands on the arms of the chair and stared down into her upturned face. "You don't know how to mind very well, do you?"

"Mind?"

"Yes, mind. You're supposed to do as I say."

"I am?"

"Yes, damn it! I give an order and you obey it."

"I'm not a child."

He dropped his ruthless gaze from hers and his eyes landed briefly on her lips where they stayed for the count of three long beats before lowering even further and landing on her chest.

"No, you're not." His agreement came low, deep, and slow.

Emma felt a tingling in her breasts from the heated look that slid slowly through her body and ended in a shameful rush between her thighs. She sucked in a breath as she realized he was looking her over with carnal intent and that her body was responding to it.

Had any man ever looked at her in that way? Absolutely none that she could remember. The few times she'd held the attention of a man it had always been fleeting; a man would notice her lame leg and the look would change. It would change to pity, and sometimes possibly, regret.

But here was a man, and dear God, what a man, looking at her in such a way that made her feel like a woman. It made her feel things she'd never experienced before. Oh, she knew it couldn't last, of course, it couldn't. But for now, for this short period in time, Luke Butler wasn't looking at her as if she wasn't whole, wasn't good enough.

It was a heady feeling, to be sure, and a women's intuition she'd only just discovered she had, was telling her that as long as he thought her injury was temporary, he would continue to look at her thusly.

It was too tempting of an idea to even contemplate telling him the truth just now. Emma knew it was wrong, that fabrications were never right, but a little red devil in her head was whispering that she might never have a chance like this again. A chance for a man to see her as just a woman, not as a broken one.

Her stomach clenched in butterflies as she thought about the possibilities. She didn't know how long she would be on his ranch, days only probably, but the possibility that she might experience the one thing that all women wanted someday in their life was tempting.

A man's kiss.

She was twenty-two years old and had never in her life been this close to a man.

Her heart beat loudly in her ears as she stared at the handsome man hanging over her now.

The broad light of day spilling through the windows only confirmed what she had thought last night. He was an incredibly good-looking specimen. And if she looked on this as an experience, and not like she was embroiled in a subterfuge, maybe her conscience wouldn't bang quite as loudly.

As soon as the idea of him kissing her came to mind, it wouldn't let go. Her eyes strayed to his lips and she wondered what they would feel like pressed to hers.

They were firm and masculine; the muscles tightening at his jaw transforming them into lines of clear cut marble. Yet they were full and looked incredibly soft.

That was silly. She berated herself for the thought. How could they look soft? Her eyes dropped to the wide shoulders above his thick chest. No, there wasn't anything soft about him.

Emma was shocked out of her ruminations when a rough hand lifted her chin and brought his gaze searing into hers.

"I know you're not a child. That's half the problem."

She steadied the breath coming in and out of her lungs and asked, "Why is it a problem?"

He didn't answer that question and got back to his original point. "You've got to do as I say, Emma. This is a ranch in the West, not a drawing room in the East. You're not used to it out here, you have no idea what could happen to you." His thumb rubbed tantalizingly over her cheek. "And you're hurt. You need to stay inside and give yourself time to heal."

Emma hung in animated suspension from his grip on her chin, the caress of his fingers and knew this was the time. The time to tell him the truth. Her conscience was screaming at her to tell him. Tell him already! If she told him, she could spend the few days she would have here in the vegetable garden, outside in the sunlight, maybe even walking to the barn and seeing the animals on the ranch. But the little devil in her head was held enthralled by his touch. If she nodded her head in agreement, he would continue to look at her this way. He might touch her again. He might even kiss her.

She desperately wanted to be kissed before she died.

She tried for noncommittal, "I like the garden, what I've seen of your ranch is beautiful."

Her words were spoken from the heart and truth rang from them.

His eyes creased in pleasure and then, slowly, his whole hand encompassed her cheek in his big palm. "I'm glad you like it, but that doesn't change things. You need to stay off that ankle. It won't take long, a week at most."

"But I'll be gone in a week."

His face stiffened and his arms went rigid. "Maybe not."

She didn't continue along that path and merely nodded her head in agreement. "I'll try my best to stay off my feet."

"You'll do more than try, Emma."

She bit her lip at the tone in his voice and wondered if this was another example much like the previous evening where he issued an order that didn't have to be obeyed. Was he only hoping she'd do as he asked?

She couldn't tell. He sounded as if he meant it. Authority rang clearly from his voice.

"Yes, sir."

He let out a low growl in his throat. "I've told you not to call me that."