Always a Lady (18 page)

Her brain registered the fact that Case would never make it to the fences in time, just as she knew the men could not stop what was happening before their eyes.

And then a paperweight was lying on the floor in the midst of a shower of broken glass as her fingers closed around Case's hunting rifle, so like the one her brother, Cole, had taught her to use years ago. The gun was loaded. Lily's quick check had assured her of that fact and she mentally thanked whoever had had the foresight to leave it locked away in that condition. If she'd had to search for, and then load ammunition, this race against time would have been futile.

Lily never remembered coming off the porch steps, nor flying through the gate surrounding the yard. She only had eyes for Case who was losing ground and the chance for life as the bull overtook his desperate vault to safety.

Case felt sweat coming out of his hairline and knew that it was going to burn like hell when it ran into his eyes. Yet he welcomed the thought knowing that it may well be the last conscious thing he ever experienced. Rage burned as his stride lengthened, yet he could tell without looking that he was losing ground. He wasn't ready to die. Not when he'd just been given a reason to live.

Lily!

An echo of thunder reverberated between the house and barnyard, mingling with the thud of Case's heartbeat, the pounding of the bull's hooves, and the rush of wind whistling in his ears as he made a frantic dive for the corral fence. He knew it was going to be short as the hot breath of the angry bull sent a deathly warning up the middle of his backbone.

Case gained the fence, shocked by the fact that he was still in one piece, and turned on the top rail, staring back in shock at the sudden silence of the scene frozen in still frame before his eyes.

His heart jumped to the bottom of his throat and tears burned the back of his nostrils as he shakily crawled down from the fence. He knew that Duff and Pete and the rest of his crew were talking and yelling in obvious relief, yet he could focus on nothing except the massive bull lying silent and still less than a foot from the place he'd jumped.

How?

He looked around in stunned confusion, and then nearly forgot to breathe as he saw Lily slump to her knees, drop his hunting rifle into the dust, and bury her face in her hands.

My God! My God! My Lily!

The prayer was as unconscious as his footsteps as he made his way around the mountainous form of the bull that lay harmlessly and lifelessly in the 'settling dust. He was heading for Lily.

"Boss! Boss!" Pete yelled, and he patted Case on the back as he and Duff came running up behind him. "Are you okay? Did you see that? She got him with one shot! Damn, you were a goner, sure as shoo tin'."

Case nodded, yet kept on walking, his focus entirely on the slender heap of the girl in green who was slumped in the dust.

"Get rid of that sonofabitch," Case muttered, and swung his arm back toward the dead animal. "Then tell the men to take the rest of the day off. I'll see them tomorrow."

"Whoopee," Pete yelled. "It's a story they won't believe in town. That's for damn sure. Our little California cook just saved the boss's life."

Their jubilant laughter and jesting faded away as Case came closer to Lily. He knelt beside her, pulled her hands away from her face and only then realized that she'd been crying in quiet desperation.

"Sweetheart," Case crooned, as he pulled her up from the dust and into his arms. "My God, don't cry. Don't cry."

Lily shuddered as she heard his familiar voice and felt the comfort of his arms cradling her against his body. He was alive!

She'd been so afraid when she'd pulled the trigger. And when the gun had kicked against her shoulder and the bull had staggered in mid-stride and then dropped heavily into the dirt, a relief such as she'd never known had weakened every muscle in her body. She couldn't have stood upright after that to save her soul.

"I was afraid that I would hit you," she sobbed, as she buried her face into his chest, reveling in the smell of dirt, sweat, and the man who held her dearly.

She wrapped her arms around his waist and crushed him up against her with wild abandon. She didn't care who was watching, or what anyone thought. This man was her life. And he'd come so close to dying before her eyes she could still not believe he was safe.

"Come here, baby," he whispered softly against her ear. "You did fine. You did just fine."

He bent down, picked up his gun with one hand, wrapped his free arm around Lily's shaking shoulders, and guided her gently into the house.

It was cool and darker inside the house. And so still. Everything was focused, every heartbeat magnified, as Case shut the door behind them and then placed the gun inside a hall closet. He turned toward Lily who was still slumped against the wall of the hallway, staring at him with wide, wounded eyes as if she'd never get enough of looking. Her breath was ragged as the sobs slowly retreated back down her throat. She ran a shaky hand across her face, and then her fingers stilled as they unconsciously traced the thin red line across her cheek.

"Don't!" Case ordered harshly. "Not now, Lily Catherine! Not when everything nearly ended for us before it had a chance to begin."

She shuddered. Her hand stilled and then dropped limply to her side as she tilted her head against the wall behind her. She watched in fixation as Case came toward her. She'd seen that look on his face before. The night of the storm. And she was as helpless to deny him now as she had been then.

"Come with me," he coaxed, and when she hesitated, he swung her up into his arms and stalked toward the staircase as if she weighed nothing at all.

He carried her upstairs, down the hallway toward his room and into it, without a word passing between them. He kicked the door shut behind him, walked to his bed, and laid her down in the middle of a lake of black satin.

"I love you, Case Longren," Lily said softly, as her head touched his pillow.

There was no time left for pretense. Either he would accept her announcement or break her heart. It didn't matter. She could deny herself no longer.

"I know you do, Lily love," Case whispered, as his shirt fell to the floor. "And I love you, too. That you've always known. You just wouldn't accept it."

Lily smiled softly through a veil of tears and started to remove her clothing when Case stopped her with a look.

"Let me," he growled, and watched the pupils in Lily's eyes flare with undisguised passion.

Her hair fanned out over the satin like spilled mountain honey while Case removed each piece of her clothing as if it were made of glass. His gentleness was nearly her undoing as she watched the unsteady rise and fall of his chest beneath a wildly beating heart. Twice he had to pause and close his eyes, each time taking a deep, life-giving draught of air into his lungs to steady the shaking touch of his fingers.

Minutes ago he'd been near death. And then this woman beneath his hands had just handed his life, as well as her own love and life, right back to him. He could only bow to the strength of spirit it had taken for her to pull the trigger that saved him and the courage she'd shown by admitting her love. He was humbled at the thought of what he now possessed, yet he needed to be with Lily in a way that would confirm for them both, that life . . . and love . . . still existed.

And then she lay before him, ivory against midnight, highlighted in the white light of day . . . waiting . . . waiting.

The rest of his clothing fell to the floor. Case stood beside the bed and stared down at Lily, shaking, knowing that when he touched her he would not be able to slow down the immensity of emotion that was overwhelming him.

She sighed, held out her arms, and Case fell into them like a drowning man clutching at his only chance for survival. Their bodies met and melded, hands touching . . . seeking . . . feverishly assuring each other that life was still good.

Case wrapped his arms around her, rolled over and slid across the dark satin until he held Lily suspended above his waiting, aching body like an answer to his prayers.

His eyes grew dark, turning into the color of stormy evening, as he watched her breasts fall softly against the palms of his hands. He pushed them upwards, cupping the lush satiny globes as he rubbed a rough thumbprint across each swollen nub and rejoiced as he saw her body respond to his caresses.

Lily's breath caught in the back of her throat as Case teased at the tips of her breasts. She moved hungrily against the thrust of his body beneath her hips.

She moaned, her body arching, as Case shifted, pulling her up and then settling her down upon him in a slow, sensuous movement that drove sanity out and pulled madness in.

Case held his breath, gritted his teeth, and willed himself not to explode as Lily settled around him. Her body moved beneath his hands, responding to his every urgency, reveling in the command of his touch.

"You're not leaving me," Case whispered through tightly clenched lips as he held her pinioned by the thrust of his body.

Lily opened her eyes, looked down, and fell into a world of blue where only she and her man existed.

She sighed, nodding slowly as he moved his hands down past her belly, wrapped his hands tightly at the bend of each thigh and let his thumbs taunt at the hidden mysteries of Lily Brownfield.

"Never," she promised. "Now love me, cowboy, before I go mad."

There, while the sunlight spilled across black satin, Case Longren branded his L.A. woman with a love and devotion that left her sobbing and sighing and begging for more.

There could be no more doubt in Lily's mind that Case would only love her in the dark. He took her to heaven and back with the sun on her hair and his hands on her face. And when he was through, he lay down beside her and watched her cry herself to sleep. It was only after she'd succumbed to the exhaustion of terror and the delight of his love, that Case could let himself go, too.

He wrapped his fists into the tangle of her hair, turned her in his arms, chest to breast, and cried.

Quietly . . . steadily.

It was revealing . . . and healing . . . and soon Case, too, was asleep as the evening sun slid slowly toward the horizon.

"I will call your father tomorrow," Case said quietly, as he watched Lily slowly come awake in his arms. "I'm not going to ask him, I'm going to tell him. You're going to marry me . . . tomorrow . . . next week . . . next month. I don't care where, but it damn well better be soon. I'm not sleeping alone another night, Lily love. I'll never let you out of my arms again."

"Hello to you, too," she said softly with a smile, and pulled his mutinous mouth slowly toward her. "And yes, thank you, I believe I will."

The look on his face was worth a thousand words as Lily let her head fall back onto the bed, and she laughed until he silenced her with his mouth, and then his hands, and then his body.

Life was good.

The next morning at breakfast Duff took one look at Lily, another at the boss, and smiled. His face broke into a thousand tiny wrinkles of joy, and his eyes nearly disappeared beneath the tangle as he slapped his leg with glee.

"What's so funny?" Pete grumbled, frowning as one of the men in line behind him jammed a fork in a plate of bacon and came away with more than his share of breakfast.

"We got ourselves a cook!" he crowed.

"Hell's fire, man, have you gone and lost your mind?" Pete grumbled. "We've had a cook . . . all during roundup."

"I mean . . . we got us a cook . . . for life," Duff mumbled beneath his breath, and nudged Pete to look toward their boss who was brushing a trace of flour gently off of Lily's chin.

Pete's mouth dropped open, and he forgot to be mad that two more men just pushed past him in line.

"Hot damn," he whispered back. "No more boiled beef and stewed prunes for us, Arloe. We're eatin' high on the hog now."

The two old friends grinned and nudged as they collected their breakfast and went off to work later with a lilt in their voices and a kick to their steps.

The boss was due some good luck. And Lily Brownfield was some good luck. Not only was she pretty, she could cook and she could shoot. What more could a man want, they asked themselves?

Lily didn't know it, but she'd just fallen in love with a man and a state that had no need for a feminist movement. Here women had always been equal, whether they'd wanted it or not. They'd had to be. From pioneer days onward. They'd tilled the land, and borne the children. They'd roped the cattle and built fences. They could ride, and they could fight, and they knew when it was time to love. Whether they were oil producers or ranchers, business women or home-makers, they made their choices and their men stood by them. They were a stubborn, proud, and hardy race of women, and Lily Brownfield fit in like the last piece of a puzzle.

"Pete knows," Lily said, as she watched the men walk away with their heads together.

'So does Duff," Case grinned. "It's no wonder. I can't get this bedroom look off my face, Lily love. You've branded me for life."

Lily blushed and swiped at him with the dish towel.

"Get out of my kitchen, mister," she teased. "I've got work to do."

"We call your dad, this evening," Case reminded her.

Lily nodded, and tried to hold back the tears. She couldn't believe she was this happy. She was afraid to count her blessings.

"Wipe that look off your face, girl," Case growled and pulled her into his arms. "I don't have time to remind you how you drive me crazy. We've got to finish up the last of the storm repairs before the extra help is gone."

"I wasn't doubting you, Case," she said softly as she slid her hands around his back and down into his hip pockets, pulling their lower bodies into sensuous alignment. "It's just leftover memories."

"If I ever get the chance, I will personally re-
arrange Todd Collins's body. He'll have a hell of a
time getting clothes to fit him when he finds my boot
permanently up his . . ."