Christmas Cowboy Page 9
Corrigan noticed two things at once—that the door was locked, and that a gunnysack tied with a ribbon was sitting in a chair struggling like crazy.
Outside the door, there were muffled voices.
“Oh, God,” he said apprehensively.
He untied the red ribbon that had the top securely tied, and out popped a raging mad Dorothy Wayne.
“I’ll kill them!” she yelled.
Big booted feet ran for safety out in the hall.
Corrigan started laughing and couldn’t stop. Honest to God, his well-meaning brothers were going to be the death of him.
“I hate them, I hate this ranch, I hate Jacobsville, I hate you…mmmfff!”
He stopped the furious tirade with his mouth. Amazing how quickly she calmed down when his arms went around her and he eased her gently out of the chair and down onto the long leather couch.
She couldn’t get enough breath to continue. His mouth was open and hungry on her lips and his body was as hard as hers was soft as it moved restlessly against her.
She felt his hands on her hips and, an instant later, he was lying between her thighs, moving in a tender, achingly soft rhythm that made her moan.
“I love you,” he whispered before she could get a word out.
And then she didn’t want to get a word out.
* * *
His hands were inside her blouse and he was fighting his way under her skirt when they dimly heard a key turn in the lock.
The door opened and three pair of shocked, delighted eyes peered in.
“You monsters!” she said with the last breath she had. She was in such a state of disarray that she couldn’t manage anything else. Their position was so blatant that there was little use in pretending that they were just talking.
“That’s no way to talk to your brothers-in-law,” Leo stated. “The wedding’s next Saturday, by the way.” He smiled apologetically. “We couldn’t get the San Antonio symphony orchestra to come, because they have engagements, but we did get the governor to give you away. He’ll be along just before the ceremony.” He waved a hand at them and grinned. “Carry on, don’t mind us.”
Corrigan fumbled for a cushion and flung it with all his might at the door. It closed. Outside, deep chuckles could be heard.
Dorie looked up into Corrigan’s steely gray eyes with wonder. “Did he say the governor’s going to give me away? Our governor? The governor of Texas?”
“The very one.”
“But, how?”
“The governor’s a friend of ours. Simon worked with him until the wreck, when he retired from public office. Don’t you ever read a newspaper?”
“I guess not.”
“Never mind. Just forget about all the details.” He bent to her mouth. “Now, where were we…?”
* * *
The wedding was the social event of the year. The governor did give her away; along with all four brothers, including the tall, darkly distinguished Simon, who wore an artificial arm just for the occasion. Dorie was exquisite in a Paris gown designed especially for her by a well-known couturier. Newspapers sent representatives. The whole world seemed to form outside the little Presbyterian church in Victoria.
“I can’t believe this,” she whispered to Corrigan as they were leaving on their Jamaica honeymoon. “Corrigan, that’s the vice president over there, standing beside the governor and Simon!”
“Well, they sort of want Simon for a cabinet position. He doesn’t want to leave Texas. They’re coaxing him.”
She just shook her head. The Hart family was just too much altogether!
That night, lying in her new husband’s arms with the sound of the ocean right outside the window, she gazed up at him with wonder as he made the softest, sweetest love to her in the dimly lit room.
His body rose and fell like the tide, and he smiled at her, watching her excited eyes with sparks in his own as her body hesitated only briefly and then accepted him completely on a gasp of shocked pleasure.
“And you were afraid that it was going to hurt,” he chided as he moved tenderly against her.
“Yes.” She was gasping for air, clinging, lifting to him in shivering arcs of involuntary rigor. “It’s… killing me…!”
“Already?” he chided, bending to brush his lips over her swollen mouth. “Darlin’, we’ve barely started!”
“Barely…? Oh!”
He was laughing. She could hear him as she washed up and down on waves of ecstasy that brought unbelievable noises out of her. She died half a dozen times, almost lost consciousness, and still he laughed, deep in his throat, as he went from one side of the bed to the other with her in a tangle of glorious abandon that never seemed to end. Eventually they ended up on the carpet with the sheet trailing behind them as she cried out, sobbing, one last time and heard him groan as he finally shuddered to completion.
They were both covered with sweat. Her hair was wet. She was trembling and couldn’t stop. Beside her, he lay on his back with one leg bent at the knee. Incredibly he was still as aroused as he’d been when they started. She sat up gingerly and stared at him, awed.
He chuckled up at her. “Come down here,” he dared her.
“I can’t!” She was gasping. “And you can’t…you couldn’t…!”
“If you weren’t the walking wounded, I sure as hell could,” he said. “I’ve saved it all up for eight years, and I’m still starving for you.”
She just looked at him, fascinated. “I read a book.”
“I’m not in it,” he assured her. He tugged her down on top of him and brushed her breasts with his lips. “I guess you’re sore.”
She blushed. “You guess?”
He chuckled. “All right. Come here, my new best friend, and we’ll go to sleep, since we can’t do anything else.”
“We’re on the floor,” she noted.
“At least we won’t fall off next time.”
She laughed because he was outrageous. She’d never thought that intimacy would be fun as well as pleasurable. She traced his nose and bent to kiss his lips. “Where are we going to live?”
“At the ranch.”
“Only if your brothers live in the barn,” she said. “I’m not having them outside the door every night listening to us.”
“They won’t have to stand outside the door. Judging from what I just heard, they could hear you with the windows closed if they stood on the town squa… Ouch!”
“Let that be a lesson to you,” she told him dryly, watching him rub the nip she’d given his thigh. “Naked men are vulnerable.”
“And you aren’t?”
“Now, Corrigan…!”
She screeched and he laughed and they fell down again in a tangle, close together, and the laughter gave way to soft conversation. Eventually they even slept.
When they got back to the ranch, the three brothers were gone and there was a hastily scrawled note on the door.
“We’re sleeping in the bunkhouse until we can build you a house of your own. Congratulations. Champagne is in the fridge.” It was signed with love, all three brothers—and the name of the fourth was penciled in.
“On second thought,” she said, with her arm around her husband, “maybe those boys aren’t so bad after all!”
He tried to stop her from opening the door, but it was too late. The bucket of water left her wavy hair straight and her navy blue coat dripping. She looked at Corrigan with eyes the size of plates, her arms outstretched, her mouth open.
Corrigan looked around her. On the floor of the hall were two towels and two new bathrobes, and an assortment of unmentionable items.
He knew that if he laughed, he’d be sleeping in the barn for the next month. But he couldn’t help it. And after a glance at the floor—neither could she.
* * * * *
The Wyoming men are back with
Wyoming Brave
by New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author Diana Palmer.
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p; In their quest for true love on the range, are these ranchers bold enough to open their hearts to the women under their protection? Don’t miss any of the stories in the captivating Wyoming Men series!
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Wyoming Strong
Wyoming Bold
Wyoming Fierce
Wyoming Tough
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Sparks fly as opposites attract in bestselling phenomenon Diana Palmer’s most emotionally compelling romance to date in
Undaunted
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Defender
Untamed
Invincible
Protector
Courageous
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Let today’s top-selling masters of Western romance sweep you away! From traditional Southern cowboys to modern mystery-solving wranglers, you’re sure to find the right Western romance for you.
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Bestselling sensation Linda Lael Miller brings you the Carsons of Mustang Creek: three men who embody the West and define what it means to be a rancher, a cowboy and a hero in this brand-new series. Don’t miss Mace Carson’s story in
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Be sure to check out
Diana Palmer’s next book in her WYOMING MEN series,
WYOMING BRAVE.
Meredith Grayling is the target of a killer.
And only rugged cattle rancher Ren Colter can protect her.
Keep reading for a glimpse of
WYOMING BRAVE.
Her father had taken a whip to one of the thoroughbreds once, when Merrie was in high school. She’d gone to see the horse after her father left the ranch on a European business trip with that Leeds woman. The trainer had talked to the horse softly, but it wouldn’t let him near it. Merrie had braved its nervous prancing and gone right up to it. The horse had responded to her immediately, to the trainer’s delight. After that, Merrie had been its caretaker. At least, as long as her father wasn’t around. He’d killed a dog she loved. He might have done the same to a horse that she’d shown attention to. Sari and she had never understood why their father hated them so. Perhaps it was their mother’s unknown legacy. All that money, and he couldn’t touch it. Probably, it was payback. He was getting even with their late mother, through them, for cutting him out of the bulk of her family wealth.
“Have you had anything to eat, baby?” she asked in a whisper as she moved her hand closer to the big horse. “Are you hungry? Poor baby. Poor, poor baby!”
He moved closer to the fence. He shook his mane again.
She went closer and sent her breath toward his nostrils, something she’d watched their trainer do with horses he was breaking back home. She blew gently into the big horse’s nostrils. Her father’s thoroughbreds had been off-limits to the girls when they were growing up, or she might have learned more about horses than she did. The injured thoroughbred had been the only one of her father’s horses that she had access to, although there were saddle mounts that the girls had permission to ride. They were careful not to pay too much attention to them when their father was around.
“I won’t hurt you,” she whispered. Her face was drawn and still. “I know how you feel. You know that, don’t you, baby?”
He moved closer. He looked at her. She held the treat out in her palm.
“Aren’t you hungry?” she asked softly.
He shook his mane and then, suddenly, lowered his head. But it wasn’t to attack her. He took the treat from her palm and wolfed it down. He looked at her again, quizzically.
“One more,” she said. She pulled the second treat from her pocket, held it out on her palm. Again, his head lowered and he took the treat gently from it with his lips. He wolfed that down, too.
“Sweet boy,” she said softly. She held out her hand.
He hesitated only for a minute before he moved closer and lowered his head toward hers. She pulled him down by his neck and laid her head against the side of his. “Oh, you poor, poor thing,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Poor horse!”
He moved his head against her, almost like a caress. She didn’t see the two returned cowboys in the back of the stable gaping at her. The horse was so dangerous that none of the cowboys, not even the boss, would risk going that close to him. And there was Hurricane, laying his head against the woman’s. They were spellbound.
She touched the bridle. He hesitated at first. But then he stilled. She reached up and unbuckled the halter. Very carefully, she took it away from his head and slipped it off. She grimaced at the bloody places there and on his body.
“Sweet boy,” she whispered as she put the bridle aside. She reached her hand up and stroked him gently. “Sweet, sweet boy.” She laid her forehead against his with a long, heavy sigh.
After a minute he lifted his head and looked at her and whinnied.
“You need medicine on those cuts,” she said softly.
“And you need therapy,” Ren Colter said coldly from behind her. “You were told to stay away from that horse!”
Hurricane jumped and moved back from the gate. He shook h
is mane and snorted.
Merrie turned with the halter in her hand. She walked toward Ren and pushed it toward him.
He stared at it, and her, with utter shock. “How did you get that off?”
“He let me,” she said simply. “Do you have medicine I can put on the cuts?”
“He’ll kill you if you walk into that stall with him,” Ren snapped. “He’s injured two cowboys already.”
“He won’t hurt me,” she said quietly.
He started to speak, to ridicule her. But then he looked at the horse. Hurricane wasn’t stamping and running at the gate as he had before. He was simply looking at them.
“You’re sure of that?” he asked in an undertone.
She looked up at him with quiet, sad, pale blue eyes. “Sort of,” she said. “Of course, if I’m wrong and he kills me, you can always stand over my grave and say you told me so.”
That pricked his temper. “You think you know how a horse feels?” he asked sarcastically.
She shivered a little, even though it wasn’t that cold in the stable. She didn’t want to discuss anything personal with this cold, hard man. “He hasn’t attacked me, has he?”
He hesitated, but only briefly. He turned to the two cowboys who’d been standing there while Merrie worked magic on the dangerous animal. “Do we have some of that salve the doctor left?”
“Uh, y-yes,” one man stammered. He went to get it and handed it to Merrie. “Ma’am,” he said, taking off his hat, “I ain’t never seen nothing like that. You sure have got a way with animals.”
She smiled. “Thanks,” she said shyly.
Ren’s dark eyes narrowed. “If he starts toward you, you run,” he said firmly.
“I will. But he won’t hurt me.”
They moved back, out of the horse’s line of sight. Ren was concerned. He didn’t want his brother’s girlfriend killed on his ranch. But she did seem to have a rapport with the horse. It was uncanny. Witchcraft.
She opened the gate and moved into the stall with firm purpose in her step and no sign of fear.
“Sweet boy,” she whispered, blowing in his nostrils again. “Will you let me help you? I won’t hurt you. I promise.”