Salvation in the Rancher's Arms(42)

Rachel stirred in her sleep, aware something was...different? She tried to awaken, to drag herself away from the warm comfort of sleep that left her groggy and disoriented. But sleep did not want to let her go without a fight. An even snore lulled her back into the intoxicating dream she’d had—

Snoring?

Rachel opened one eye and stared. Directly in front of her was an expanse of skin dusted with a light smattering of hair visible through the undone buttons of a worn shirt.

She blinked and tried to move, but a heavy weight held her legs in place and an arm had been flung across her waist, pinning her arms in front of her. Between them.

She flattened one hand against a wall of unforgiving muscle. Beneath her touch she could feel the even rise and fall of breathing, the steady beat of a heart. Her own thumped erratically against her ribs.

She pushed her mind past the veil of sleep, searching for an explanation. The previous night rushed back. Caleb sleeping in the rain. Carrying her back to the house. Her insistence he stay, hold her. Not let go.

The kiss.

Shame scalded her skin. She’d behaved wantonly, allowing him to take such liberties, giving in to the kiss the moment his lips had touched hers, setting off a firestorm of sensations she was powerless to resist. Her defenses had crumbled and she’d embraced her desires, disregarding every reason she had ever given herself for not becoming like her mama.

Was such behavior passed down like the color of her eyes or the shape of her nose? Would she always fight and fail in the attempt to suppress such craven desires? And why had this unrepentant need waited until Caleb’s arrival to make itself known with such a vengeance?

Humiliation welled up inside of her. How would she face him? What would he think of her? She took a deep breath and tried to remain calm. The last thing she needed was to lose her composure again and throw herself at Caleb as if he was a safe harbor in the middle of a raging storm. There was nothing safe about him. If anything, he represented a brand new danger she apparently lacked the ability to resist.

It took her a moment to realize his breathing had changed, and the even buzz of his snoring had fallen silent.

“You angry about last night?” His voice held the roughness of someone who had awakened from a deep, satisfying sleep. He made no attempt to remove his tangled limbs from hers. Worse still, she made no attempt to make him.

“I’m not angry.”

“The way you’re twisting my shirt tells me different.”

She looked down at her hand where it clenched the worn material over his heart and realized he was right. She let go.

“Sorry.” She peeked up at him. His mouth twitched. The whiskers were getting thicker. At this rate he’d have a full beard in no time. She remembered the way it had tickled her skin as his mouth pressed into hers. “You need a shave.”

“That I do.”

She needed to get up. It shouldn’t feel so right to lie here in Caleb’s arms. She knew nothing about him, other than the fact that he considered himself a drifter and didn’t care much for small, dark spaces. And that his kiss revealed a surprising tenderness that stole her breath.

Stop it! “I need to get up now.”

If she didn’t, she ran the risk of staying there all day wrapped in the safety of his arms, shutting out the rest of the world. It was a tempting idea. But a quick glance out the window showed the first hints of gold coloring the horizon. Soon Freedom would arrive and Ethan would awaken. She couldn’t risk them finding her in such a compromising position.

Caleb exhaled, his warm breath ruffling the stray hairs loosened from her braid through the night. She must look a sight. With slow, languorous movements he removed his leg from hers and slipped his arm from her waist, sliding it beneath the pillow.

Rachel quickly pulled herself up into a sitting position, the sudden absence of his warmth hitting her like a cold blast of winter air.

“Thank you...for staying last night.” The words choked out of her.

He closed his eyes. He had surprisingly long lashes for a man. Dark at the roots, then turning pale at the tips, where they brushed against his cheek. “You’re welcome.”

“I—I—” Heat crept up her neck and invaded her face. “I haven’t slept that well in a long time.”

Two vertical lines appeared between his brows. “No...me either.”

“We’ll have to find you other accommodations if the bunkhouse doesn’t suit.” She pulled her mind to more practical matters. Anything to stop her thinking about what had occurred last night and what would change now that morning’s harsh light threatened. “Ethan suggested you could sleep here.”

He opened his eyes when she gave the mattress pat. “Wouldn’t be right.”