Authors: Lindsay McKenna
Lark rode the magnificent Kentucky Stud back toward the ranch. Her mind wasn’t on the stallion’s playful antics, but on Matt. He’d left for Prescott four days ago with the colts, taking Frank Herter with him. Why weren’t they back yet? Had something happened to them? She tried to curb her worry. Ever since Matt had made love to her, her heart had opened like a flower struck by Holos, and she felt invisibly bound to him—forever.
As she rode the last three miles to the ranch, she agonized over the devastating drought. Holos had sucked every last bead of moisture from the earth; the grass stood nearly two feet high but it was withered and dry, rustling in the infrequent wind. The three ponds on Lark’s land were drying up at an alarming rate, and she wondered whether they could survive this, the worst drought in her memory. In the deep blue sky, there wasn’t a cloud to be seen over the green-caped mountains that surrounded the valley.
When she slipped off Kentucky’s bare back, Paco greeted her. She patted the tall, sleekly muscled stallion and handed the reins to her foreman.
“Anything, Paco?”
The Mexican shook his head sadly. “Nothing,
Patrona
, but they will return soon. I know they will.”
Anguished, Lark wondered. Would Matt and Frank come home in the back of a buckboard drawn by Father Mulcahy, bullets in their backs? She shivered, though the temperature was well into the nineties, the noontime heat bearing down upon the thirsty land. Touching her aching heart, she headed back to the broodmare barn to check on the latest foals, trying to escape her terrifying thoughts. She loved Matt with her whole being. She could still taste his wonderful male mouth on hers, still sense his masculine scent teasing her nostrils.
Near midnight, as she sat in the office with the kerosene lamps brightly lit, Lark fought off tiredness. Everyone on the ranch was sleeping, except for the posted guard making his rounds. Matt and Frank still weren’t back. Something had happened. Something terrible. She gripped the fountain pen between her fingers, the numbers blurring before her bloodshot eyes. Since Matt had left, she’d slept poorly, tossing and turning, missing his warmth, missing him. Sudden neighing of horses in the corral alerted Lark instantly. She was on her feet, running out of the office and down the hall toward the front door. She halted on the wooden porch, her heart pounding. There! Two riders bathed in the light of the full moon were coming down the hill toward the ranch. Matt! Her lips parted and she waved breathlessly.
Matt’s exhaustion was ripped away when he saw Lark’s slender form standing on the porch. When she waved her hand, he straightened up, a powerful infusion of emotions sweeping through him. Four of the most god-awful days had passed without her sleek, loving body beside him. He missed her laughter, her voice. Most of all, he missed her.
From his slouched position on his own horse, Frank Herter glanced over at Kincaid. “Looks like you’re a sight for sore eyes, Kincaid.”
Matt grinned, urging his fatigued gelding into a ground-eating trot. “I think I am. She is, too.”
“Go ahead. I’ll be heading to the bunkhouse as soon as I take care of my horse,” Frank called.
Kincaid urged his gray into a canter down the hill and into the front yard.
“Matt!”
He pulled his animal to a halt and instantly dismounted. Lark flew off the porch, her arms wide. Dusty and tired, Matt dropped the reins. “Come here!” he called to her huskily. She was wearing the gold dress, her hair loose and flowing like a black mane across her shoulders. Her eyes were wide with joy, her full lips parted. Matt braced himself as she threw herself into his arms. He crushed her to him, burying his face in her hair.
“God, I’ve missed you,” he muttered thickly, whirling her around.
“Oh, Matt!” Lark cried, and began to kiss him wildly with wet, puppy-dog kisses.
He laughed, kissing her in return, seeking, finding her soft, smiling lips. “Come here,” he growled, covering her mouth with his own. Her heart was beating hard against his chest, her body pressed tightly to his. He smelled the lavender soap on her skin, and the fresh fragrance of pine in her hair. Drowning in her sweetness and the liquid warmth of her mouth, he groaned.
Reluctantly Matt set Lark down on her feet, keeping an arm around her as she swayed unsteadily. He laughed shakily, realizing she was just as swept away by the kiss as he had been.
Frank entered the yard and dismounted. He tipped his hat to Lark, who was flushed and breathless. “Evening, Miss Lark.” He untied a parcel from the back of the gray’s saddle and handed it over to Kincaid, who thanked him. “Here, Matt, I’ll take that cayuse to the corral for you.”
“Thanks, Frank. Next time it’ll be my turn.”
Lark smiled over at Frank, her lips tingling wildly. “I’m so glad to see you both back safe and sound.”
“We had some business to take care of first,” Frank said, “but I’m sure this man of yours will fill you in on all the details. G’night.”
“Good night,” Lark called softly, her arm wrapped around Matt’s waist.
“Good night, Frank.” Matt turned, absorbing Lark’s rapt expression. “You look delicious,” he confided in a low tone that only she could hear.
Happily she waited until Frank Herter had left. “The bunkhouse wranglers are asleep,” she said, then added, “all except Frank.” There was a question in her voice. Would Matt go to the bunkhouse and wait until Frank went to sleep before coming over to the house?
He gazed down at Lark, a slight smile tugging at his mouth. “Frank already knows about us, Lark.”
Her brows flew upward. “What? But how?”
Taking her by the elbow, Matt led her toward the house. “I like the man, Lark. He’s sharp.” He lightly touched her cheek. “He saw your love for me in your eyes before we left for Prescott.”
Climbing the steps, she shook her head. “Frank’s always been like that with me.”
“He’s a keen judge of character. In a roundabout way, he let me know that he approved of us, saying that under the circumstances it must be tough for us to find ways to be alone together.”
Lark shut the door and they stood just inside the foyer. “He amazes me.”
“He thinks an awful lot of you,” Matt offered, “and he’s a good friend to both of us.”
Mutely, Lark agreed. Drowning in Matt’s heated gaze, she followed him into the bedroom and sat down on the rocker, watching as he shut the door. Matt walked over to her.
“Here, this is for you.” He handed her the large parcel and then sat on the bed, tugging off his dusty boots and tossing them to one side.
“A gift?” Lark exclaimed, pulling off the brown string.
“Something I saw at Madam Bouchard’s shop that I think you might look good in,” he said, rising. He unbuttoned his shirt and let it drop to the floor, watching her animated features. Once again, Lark was his child-woman, so uninhibited that her happiness radiated like sunlight, touching everyone with her joy.
“Madam Bouchard’s?” she whispered, her hands stilling over the parcel. “Oh, Matt…”
He unbelted his trousers and climbed out of them. “What?”
Her excitement deepened as she drank in the sight of him, his body taking on a silvery cast in the moonlight. “You’re so beautiful,” she breathed softly.
He chuckled and leaned down, kissing her lips. “Open the package, golden cougar.”
Her hands trembling, Lark could barely concentrate on the package. He was naked, standing before her like a god of Apache legend, but a flesh-and-blood man who made her body tingle and aroused an oh-so-familiar ache between her thighs.
Her hand flew to her mouth as the crinkly brown paper fell aside. There, in her lap, lay the most beautiful dress she had ever seen. “It’s so pretty…!” she whispered in awe, hardly daring to touch the soft turquoise material edged with white lace.
Matt smiled and crouched down in front of her, resting his hands on her knees. “The color of the dress reminded me of the color your eyes turn when I make love to you.”
“It’s so expensive. Oh, Matt, how could you afford such an extravagance?”
He framed her face. “My golden cougar, who’s so easily touched,” he whispered, and slid his mouth against her lips.
A moan caught in Lark’s throat and she hungrily pressed her mouth to Matt’s. His hands caressed her breasts, gently kneading the hardened nipples that were begging to be touched.
Matt caught himself and slowly drew away from Lark’s velvet lips, staring hungrily at her. His hands remained on her waist. “I need to wash up first. I smell….”
She laughed lightly. “You smell wonderful to me, Matt Kincaid.”
He rubbed his jaw. “I need to shave, too. Wait here for me?”
“I’ll wait forever.”
Grinning, Matt got up. “I won’t” make you wait that long. I’ll bathe in the creek in back of the ranch house. Get undressed and I’ll come to you in bed.”
After hanging the lovely dress in the closet, Lark moved to the bed and slipped beneath the covers. Wide awake now, she pulled at the thin quilt as she waited for Matt. To her, it was a long fifteen minutes before he padded back into the bedroom, his hair damp against his skull, his jaw scraped free of that four-day-old beard. As he approached the bed, she smiled and held out her hand to him.
“I missed you so much.”
Matt slipped beside Lark and took her into his arms. She was like a wriggly puppy, and he smiled. “You were never out of my thoughts,” he rasped, and pressed his mouth to her smiling lips, drinking in her sweetness. With a groan, he broke the kiss.
“We’ve got some things to discuss.”
Lark felt immediate fear. “You telegraphed Phoenix for a marshal?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“We won’t know anything for at least two weeks. Dealing with government services is always slow, Lark,” he said, seeing the disappointment in her features.
“What about the horses?”
He propped himself up on one elbow. The shadowy light emphasized Lark’s proud Indian heritage, but it was her wide eyes that burned into his soul until he burst into a bright, hungry flame. Caressing her hair, he said, “We got three hundred for the colts, like I figured we would.” He grinned. “Afterward, Frank and I went over to the Silver Spur Saloon to play a little poker.”
“You did? Both of you?”
“Frank’s a damned good card player. You should have seen the card shark we met. Oliver Preston was his name. The gent had just blown in from Flagstaff and was ready to line his pockets with our money. We raked in four hundred dollars off him instead. Preston thought he was going to fleece two cowboys, but we turned the tables on him.”
Lark sat up, her eyes large. “You won money?”
The satisfied smile lingered on Matt’s face. “Frank won a hundred and fifty and I won the rest.” He touched her chin. “That two fifty went into your new account.”
“What new account?”
“I transferred all your money to a different bank. And I’ve applied for a new loan on the ranch at a lower interest rate. As soon as that comes through, we’ll pay off Cameron’s mortgage and be free of him forever.”
Lark clapped her hands, delighted. “So you bought the dress with some of the poker money?”
“Sure did.”
“And you used the colt money as grubstake in the game?”
Matt shook his head, seeing the worry in her eyes. “I’d never do that, Lark. I wouldn’t risk your money. No, I had some money of my own. Frank had some with him, too, so we decided to sit down and fleece a wolf.” He grinned. “We sure did. Preston was madder than a wet hen,” he added, chuckling.
Relieved, Lark was able to laugh with him.
Absently he ran his hand across her gowned thigh, feeling the softness and warmth that were uniquely hers. He sat up and maneuvered her around so that she lay in his arms. “Enough of business. For the last three nights I’ve been dreaming of being with you again.”
Lark waited impatiently, hungering for his touch. The gray of his eyes grew turbulent and intent as he slowly pulled each bow free, exposing the shadowed cleft between her breasts. With a tremulous sigh, Lark caressed his cheek. “I feel like a starving cougar for you,” she admitted.
“And I’m a hungry bear.”
Laughing softly, she closed her eyes as his hands slipped beneath the material. The instant he pulled aside her nightgown, exposing her shoulders and breasts, she tensed, waiting. As his teeth grazed the hardened nipple, a new, exquisite sensation bolted through her lower body.
Lowering Lark to the bed, Matt pulled the nightgown off her. Her eyes were dark and smoldered with lupine fire, and her golden, dusky skin gleamed with a thin film of perspiration. “You’re so responsive,” he said, sliding his hand across her rounded belly.
His weight was welcoming and Lark smiled tremulously, sliding her arms around his shoulders and drawing him down upon her. “Love me,” she coaxed huskily, opening her thighs to receive his thick shaft. This time, there was no pain, only the wonderful joy of having him fill her. She was a vessel for him, able to hold him tightly in her embrace. A sound of utter pleasure stole up her slender throat as he moved his hips experimentally, and her heart soared with the knowledge that she could give him equally intense pleasure in return. Again, she slowly moved her hips, first one way, then the other.
Matt groaned. “Sweet God in heaven, Lark…” Fighting for air, he eased himself forward. Lark was so small, yet he felt her heated, liquid depths give way to his thrust. Unable to stop himself, or the explosion building steadily within him, he began to move more urgently, with each stroke losing himself more completely. He heard Lark sobbing his name. She was his woman, wild, hot, and yielding beneath him. Their flesh moved slickly against each other, their breath came in ragged gasps, and their fingers gripped desperately.
The instant Matt placed his hand beneath Lark’s hips, lifting her to another angle, a heat rolled through her, catching her breathless, stunning her in its wake. She cried out, clutching him as her body turned to molten liquid heat beneath his mighty thrusts. As she spun into a shower of rainbow light, directionless, she heard him groan like a bear claiming his territory. He gripped her hard, his body taut beneath her hands. A weak smile fled across her mouth as she sank beneath him, fulfilled as never before.