Miss Murray on the Cattle Trail(30)
Roberto was right, she thought. Zach Strickland was “much man.”
And he certainly could dance! True, he had kept waltzing through two polkas and a lively two-step, but when the musicians did play a tune in waltz time, he never missed a beat.
But, oh, my heavens, this one is the slowest waltz I have ever danced. And as they drew farther into the darkness at the edge of the firelight, he moved slower and slower. Finally he drew her to a complete stop.
He didn’t move and neither did she. Instead, they stood together, barely breathing, as the fiddle’s plaintive melody washed over them. She recognized the tune. “Lorena.”
Zach stood motionless, one hand holding hers and the other lightly pressing her backbone. Alex stared at the top button of his blue shirt, watching the pulse throb in the hollow of his tanned throat, and waited for him to say something.
But he didn’t.
The music seemed very far away, the melody rising and falling over the scrape of crickets and the song of an evening sparrow. She did not want to move, did not want to break the spell. An expectant feeling built under her rib cage until she felt she might burst.
He said nothing for a long, long minute. And then, very deliberately, he brought her hand up to rest against his chest and folded his fingers around hers. Under her knuckles his heartbeat thudded in a driving pulse that matched the thrumming of her blood.
Something was happening between them, something magical. Something beautiful. Never in her life had she felt so filled with light, as if at any moment she would float up off the face of the earth. She wanted to savor the feeling the way she would an exquisite, elusive scent.
Her breathing stopped. What is this wondrous feeling?
She wanted to be close to him, and that was perfectly scandalous! Her mother would never...
She caught herself. Mama had never waltzed with a man in the firelight. Mama had never known a man like Zach Strickland. Alex knew with sudden clarity that her mother had missed something that was of value in life.
She closed her eyes, afraid to breathe for fear he would release the hand he kept pressed to his chest. She stood without moving and inhaled deeply. He smelled faintly of wood smoke.
God forgive her, she wanted to crawl inside his skin. She made an unconscious motion closer to him, and in the same moment he pulled her against him and bent his head. She raised her face to his and felt his mouth cover hers, his lips warm and insistent. In the space of a heartbeat she was lost.
* * *
If he lived to be a hundred, Zach would remember this moment for the rest of his life. He’d kissed his share of women. None of them had felt anything like Dusty, all fire and soft velvet.
Her mouth opened under his, and when he went deeper, her arms came up around his neck. A heady realization zinged through him. She wanted this. She wanted him!
His brain exploded. He couldn’t think, could only ask with his lips for what he needed and take what she offered. God help him, he didn’t want this to end. He lifted his head briefly, felt her warm breath wash against his cheek and without thinking he caught her mouth under his once more.
He kissed her until his senses reeled and his body trembled with need. When he lifted his lips from hers, he knew he was a different man.
He held her close for a long minute, felt her heart flutter against his chest and her breathing grow ragged. Then, without speaking, they turned and moved together toward the campfire.
He wanted to take her hand, but he didn’t. Instead, he walked her past the cowhands who were still stomping about in their awkward two-steps, past the musicians and past Orren Gibson, until they reached the fire pit.
He settled himself on a wide log and pulled her down beside him, close enough to brush her shoulder with his. Only by gritting his teeth could he keep from touching her. When his breathing began to return to normal, he spoke the first word that came to his mind.
“Dusty.”
“Don’t say anything,” she murmured.
Suits me, he thought. After what had just passed between them, he had no idea what to say to her.
Curly and José ambled up. “Boss, you think maybe we should be headin’ back?”
Zach nodded. The two men wandered off to find Skip and retrieve the horses, and when they returned he shook hands with Orren Gibson and helped Dusty climb into the saddle. Then they headed back to the Rocking K camp, Curly, José and Skip riding on ahead.
Zach and Dusty followed slowly, walking their horses side by side in the moonlight and not speaking while he tried to sort out what was happening. It was hard to understand why he suddenly felt so different. Something had shifted inside him.
Chapter Nineteen
Alex lay awake for hours, waiting for Zach to roll out his bedroll next to her under the chuck wagon. Her body still tingled from his kiss.
What on earth should she say to him? She hadn’t had one coherent thought since he had lifted his mouth from hers hours ago. Maybe he hadn’t, either. She could think of no other reason why they had not spoken a single word since then.
Where was he? She longed for some acknowledgment of the extraordinary thing that had happened between them. She closed her eyes and tried to think, but only one thought made any sense. Tonight was the end of something and the beginning of something else, something she couldn’t begin to name.
Three feet away, outside the wagon wheel, Roberto was singing softly under his breath in Spanish. It made her ache inside. It made her want to stay awake and wait for Zach.
An hour passed, then another, and still he didn’t come. Maybe he hadn’t enjoyed their kiss as much as...as much as she had. She bit her lip at the thought.
Nothing in her entire life had ever been like those few toe-curling moments she had shared with Zach Strickland. It was magical. Beautiful. But, she admitted, she was relatively inexperienced about kissing. Maybe it hadn’t been all that special for him.
Near dawn she fell asleep, only to wake again when Roberto crawled out of his bedroll and began rattling around in the chuck wagon. She gave up trying to get any more rest, rolled up her blankets and helped Roberto cut out biscuits and fry bacon. She ate breakfast with the hands and climbed onto the saddled roan Cherry brought for her, even though her sleep-deprived body ached at the prospect of having to stay upright in the saddle until suppertime.
She didn’t see Zach until almost noon, when she glimpsed him riding point alongside Curly. Later she saw him spur his horse after a wandering steer, but the long, scorching hours dragged by and he came nowhere near her.
Why?
Her spirits sagged.
That night after supper she lingered around the campfire with the hands, waiting for Zach to ride in and join them. But he didn’t. Even Roberto was puzzled.
“Ees not like Señor Boss to miss supper,” he complained. “And tonight I make my beef stew and dumplings, his favorite.”
She kept her eyes on the Dutch oven hanging over the fire pit, expecting that any minute Zach would stride into camp and load up his plate.
“Where’s the boss?” Curly wanted to know.
“Yeah,” Skip chimed in. “It’s sure not like him to miss a meal.”
Cherry looked up from his coffee mug. “Hope that gray gelding I fixed him up with hasn’t stumbled into another darned gopher hole. Don’t fancy watchin’ him have to put down another horse. ’Bout broke my heart when he had to shoot Dancer.”
Alex’s heart skipped at the memory. Then Juan spoke up. “I see him before.”
“Before what?” Skip demanded.
“Before supper. He reads a book.”
Alex jerked. A book! Well, then, he must be all right. He’s just not interested in eating supper with us.
And maybe he’s not interested in you.
Did a man really set a woman’s body on fire like that and then just wander off and read a book? She dashed the rest of her coffee into the fire and got to her feet.
Damn him! Tears stung at the back of her eyes. Reading a book? What kind of man did that? Kiss a girl until she was dizzy and trembling, and then go off and read a book?
She stomped off for a long walk, circling the campfire four times before Roberto fell into step beside her. “Something is wrong, Señorita Alex?”
“N-no. Well, yes.”
“Not want to eat dessert?”
“Dessert?”
“Cobbler I make from peaches.”
“Oh.”
Roberto took her arm and brought her to a stop. “You have bad words with Señor Boss?”
“No. No words.” She would give anything for even one word from Zach.
“Ah.” The old man nodded wisely. “Ah,” he said again. “You come eat some peaches, Señorita Alex. Is good for having no words.”
She looked into the cook’s velvety brown eyes. Roberto saw much more than he ever let on. She wondered what he read in her face, and after a moment, when he smiled broadly, she had her answer. Roberto saw everything. Everything.
“All right, Roberto, I will come and eat your peach cobbler.”
The cook nodded. “Bueno, Señorita Alex. Mucho smart.”
In minutes she was spooning bites of tender peaches and crunchy sweet topping into her mouth and listening to José tune up his guitar. All at once she had a thought that made her breath catch. She laid down her spoon.
Oh, please, please don’t play “Lorena.”
Her eyes burned. She picked at her cobbler until she couldn’t stomach another bite, listened to the sad ballad José was softly singing with his guitar and wondered what to do about her aching heart.