The Cowboy and the Lady (18 page)

Jace let her go with a rough sigh, his eyes caressing as they swept down her slender body. “You’d better go on up. I’m not in the mood for any of Duncan’s witty remarks, and I’d hate to end the day by knocking out any more of his teeth.”

She smiled at him, the radiance of her face giving her a soft beauty that made him catch his breath. “Poor Duncan,” she murmured.

“Poor Duncan, hell!” He grabbed up her robe and helped her into it, jerking the ties together to pull her body against him. He bent and kissed her roughly, his lips hard, faintly hurting. “You’re mine, honey,” he told her, his breath warming her mouth. “And I’m not sharing you. Once I take you into my bed, I’ll kill another man for touching you.”

“Jace!” she whispered, stunned at the cool violence of the words.

“I’ve waited seven years for you,” he said harshly. “I’m through waiting. By the time this weekend is over, you’ll belong to me completely.”

She stared up at him helplessly, understanding him with a painful clarity. “I…I was going back to San Antonio after the party tomorrow night.”

“Was is right,” he said, his eyes hard. “You’re staying now. I want the whole damned world to know you’re mine. There’ll be no hushed-up weekends at your apartment, no climbing the back stairs to your bedroom. It’s all going to be open and aboveboard, so you’d better start making plans.” He released her and turned her around with a slight push in the direction of the door. “Go to bed. We’ll talk about it tomorrow night.”

She looked over her shoulder at him when she reached the door. “Does…everyone have to know?” she asked, feeling the shame wash over her like the night air.

“Why in hell not?” he wanted to know.

It was different for men. Why should he care? She turned and walked toward the door.

“Amanda!” He studied her face as she turned. “The light’s gone out of you. What is it? Something I said?”

“I’m just tired,” she assured him with a wan smile. “Just tired, Jason. Good night.”

Chapter Ten

A
manda wore a white-and-yellow eyelet sundress downstairs the next morning, her eyes dark-shadowed from lack of sleep, her heart tumbling around wildly in her chest as she approached the dining room. All night she’d agonized over it, and she was no closer to a solution. How did Jace expect her to survive the contempt in his mother’s eyes, in Duncan’s eyes, when he calmly announced that Amanda was his new mistress? But she loved him so much that the thought of going away, of living without him, was worse than the certainty of death. She cared too much to go now. It would be like leaving half of her soul behind, and she was too weak to bear the separation.

She moved into the carpeted room hesitantly, her eyes colliding instantly with Jace’s across the length of the table with the impact of steel against rock. He studied her quietly, one corner of his mouth lifting, his expression impossible to read.

“Good morning, dear,” Marguerite said with a smile. “I’m glad you’re up early. We’ve got so much to do to get ready for the party tonight. Now, about your dress…”

“Leave that to me,” Jace said with a smile. “I’ll take care of it.”

Marguerite raised an eyebrow and looked from his smug face to Amanda’s flushed one, and smiled. “Anything you say, dear,” she murmured, lowering her eyes to her filled plate.

Duncan came in yawning, oblivious to the undercurrents around him. “Good morning.” He plopped down in a chair and glanced from Jace to Amanda and grinned. “Everybody sleep well?” he asked.

Amanda’s face went redder, and Jace leaned on his forearms, one eye dangerously narrowed as he glared at his brother. He didn’t say a word, but he didn’t have to. The look had always been adequate.

Duncan grimaced, reaching for cream and sugar to put into his coffee. “Talk about looks that kill…! Have a heart, Jace. I didn’t mean a thing.”

Marguerite frowned. “Did I miss something?”

“I think we both did,” Duncan muttered, irrepressible. “Jace was in the kitchen alone when I got in at two o’clock this morning, looking like a wounded bear.”

“Jason always looks like a wounded bear at two o’clock in the morning,” his mother reminded him.

“His lip was swollen,” Duncan added with a sly glance at Amanda, who swallowed her coffee too fast and choked.

“That doesn’t prove anything,” Jace said with a half-amused expression.

Amanda, remembering the feel of his lower lip as she nibbled at it, glanced at him and felt the floor reeling out from under her at the shared memory reflected in his silvery eyes.

“Do behave,” Marguerite cautioned Duncan. “And where were you until two in the morning, by the way?”

“Following my big brother’s sterling example,” he replied with a grin at Jace.

“You were at the office working?” Marguerite blinked.

Duncan sighed. “Jace doesn’t work all the time.”

Marguerite finished her breakfast and drew up her linen napkin with a flourish to dab at her lips. “Duncan, you’re in a very strange mood this morning. Perhaps you need a vacation?”

“That’s just what I need,” Duncan agreed quickly. “How about Hawaii? You could come with me, Mother. The sea air would do you good.”

“The sea air gives me infected sinuses,” she reminded him. “Besides how could you pick up girls with your mother along? Be sensible.”

Duncan laughed. “Oh, Mother, I wouldn’t trade you for all Jace’s cattle.”

Marguerite beamed. “Well, I’d better get busy. Jace…” She studied him a little apprehensively. “You will be kind to Amanda?”

He lowered his eyes to his coffee cup. “I’ll make an effort,” he assured her.

“Good. Duncan, would you drive me? My car’s acting up, I’m going to have the garage take it in for inspection,” she fired at her youngest son, as she started out the door.

“But, I’m still eating…” Duncan protested, a forkful of egg halfway to his mouth.

“Finish it when we get back,” she returned implacably.

Duncan stared at the egg and put it down. “I’ll buy myself a stale doughnut or something,” he murmured wistfully. “Bye, all,” he called over his shoulder, winking at Amanda.

Once they were out of the room, Jace looked up, his eyes catching Amanda’s, holding them.

“Hello,” he said softly.

Wild thrills ran through her at the lazy tone, the smile. “Hello,” she whispered back, her eyes lighting up like soft brown lights, her face radiant.

“I like you in white and yellow,” he remarked, studying her. “You remind me of a daisy.”

“Daisies don’t tell,” she remarked, clutching her coffee cup to still the trembling of her hands.

He smiled, drawing her eyes to the chiseled mouth her own had clung to so hungrily the night before. His lower lip was just slightly swollen.

“Duncan doesn’t miss a trick,” he remarked with a deep chuckle.

She flushed delightfully. “I’m sorry,” she said gently.

“Why? I like those sharp little teeth,” he murmured sensuously. “I could feel them nibbling at my mouth long after I showered and went to bed.”

She didn’t even feel the heat of the cup in her hand. “I thought I’d never sleep….”

“That makes two of us,” he agreed. His face was expressionless, suddenly, his eyes blazing the length of the table at her. “Come here.”

She put the cup down and went to him, dazed at the newness of being able to look at him without fear of discovery, without having to explain it. He caught her around the waist and pulled her down onto his lap, letting her head fall back against his shoulder so that he could look down at her. He smelled of expensive cologne, and his soft brown silk shirt was smooth against her cheek, his tanned throat visible at the open neck.

“I almost came for you last night,” he said quietly, his eyes dark and faintly smiling. “That damned bed was so big and empty, and I wanted you almost beyond bearing.”

“I didn’t sleep, either,” she admitted. Her fingers reached up to trace his mouth. She noted that he was clean-shaven now, the smoothness of his skin a contrast to the faint raspiness which had been there last night.

He tipped her mouth up and bent to kiss her. His lips were slow, tender, easing hers apart to deepen the kiss, his breath coming quicker as he grasped the nape of her neck and suddenly crushed her mouth under his in a hungry, deep passion. The kiss seemed to go on forever, slow and hard and faintly bruising in the soft silence of the dining room. His arms brought her up closer, cradling her, the sounds of silk rustling against cotton invading her ears along with her own faint moan as she returned the kiss with her whole heart.

Her fingers went to the buttons on his shirt and she unbuttoned it slowly, only half aware of what she was doing, consumed with the need to touch him, to savor the sensuous maleness of his hair-roughened flesh.

He caught her hand as it tangled in the curling hair, drawing back a little, his eyes narrow, his heart pounding heavily in his chest. “If you touch me, I’m going to touch you,” he said gruffly. “And we don’t have time for what it would lead to.”

She licked her dry lips, aware of the warm pressure of his lean fingers where they pressed hers to his body. “Would it lead to that?” she whispered.

“The way I feel right now, yes,” he replied. His mouth brushed her closed eyelids. “Oh, God, I love for you to touch me,” he whispered huskily.

She smiled, leaning her flushed cheek against his chest. “It’s so strange….”

“What is?” he murmured against her forehead.

“Not fighting you.”

He drew a long, slow breath. “I’ve given you hell for a long time.”

“Maybe you had reason to.” She sighed softly. “Jace, I’m sorry about Mother…”

He touched his forefinger against her lips, looking down at her with a strange, brooding expression. “I’m not over it, yet,” he said quietly. “But I think I’m beginning to understand. Emotions aren’t always so easy to control. God knows, I lose my head every time I touch you.”

She smiled lazily. “Is that so bad?”

“For me it is. I’ve never been demonstrative. I’ve had women, but always on my terms, and never one I couldn’t walk away from.” He looked down at her, scowling. “You make me feel sensations I didn’t know I could experience. They wash over my body like fire when I hold you, when I touch you…you pleasure me, Amanda. That’s an old-fashioned phrase, but I can’t think of anything more descriptive.”

She drew her hand against his hard cheek. “I think we pleasure each other,” she said quietly. “Do I really belong to you?”

“Do you want to?”

She nodded, unashamed, her eyes worshiping every line of his face.

He drew his hand across her waist, trailing it up over the fabric across her firm, high breasts, pausing to cup one of them warmly, his eyes darting to catch the stunned expression on her face.

“You’ll get used to being touched like this,” he said softly.

“Will I?” she managed breathlessly.

His eyes searched hers. “I hadn’t thought about it until now, but you’ve never let a man look at you the way I did last night, have you? I’d always thought you were experienced until I saw that wild blush on your face. And when I held you like that…” He smiled gently. “I’ll remember it the rest of my life. More than anything, I wanted to be the one to teach you about love. I thought you’d given that privilege to some other man, and I hated you for it.”

“I never wanted anyone but you,” she said simply, her eyes sad as she thought how little of him she’d really have when it was all over. He’d tire of her innocence eventually, he’d tire of being with her. They had so much in common, but all he wanted was her body, not her mind or her heart.

“What’s wrong?” he asked softly.

She shrugged. “Nothing. What did you mean about a dress?”

“Curious?” He chuckled, putting her back on her feet. “Come on and I’ll show you.”

* * *

He led her into the exclusive department store, straight to the women’s department, to the couture section. She pulled back, but he wouldn’t let go of her hand. He turned her over to the sleek saleslady with a description of the kind of dress he wanted her to try on for him.

“Yes, sir, Mr. Whitehall,” the poised, middle-aged woman said with a smile. “I have just the thing…!”

“But I don’t want you to buy me a dress,” Amanda protested as the saleslady sailed away toward the back.

Jace only smiled, his eyes hooded, mysterious. “Why not? Did you plan to go to the party in slacks?”

That hurt. It hadn’t mattered so much, being without, until he made such a point of it. And to have the people in this exclusive store know that he was buying her clothes—what were they going to think? She might as well be some man’s bought woman. Her eyes misted. Well, it was the truth, wasn’t it? She’d already promised herself to him.

Her eyes lowered, her face paper-white.

“What is it?” he asked gently, lifting her face to his puzzled eyes. “Honey, what did I say?”

She tried to smile and shook her head, but she was choking to death on her pride.

“Here it is,” the saleslady cooed, reappearing with a fantasy of hand-painted organza which she was holding up carefully by the hanger. It was sheer and off-white with a delicate pattern of tiny green leaves. The bodice was held in place by swaths of the same silky fabric. Amanda, even when she’d had money to burn, had never seen anything so lovely.