Always a Lady (17 page)

Lily stared, transfixed, watching the shades of blue in his eyes turning from dark and angry to white hot as he felt the whisper of her breath against his mouth.

"You're driving me crazy, lady. I look at you and all I can remember is how soft your body was beneath me, and how hot you got when I touched you."

It was the best . . . and the worst thing he could have said to her. It made her remember.

Lily swayed toward him as every muscle in her body went limp. Her eyelids drifted toward her cheeks in sleepy confusion as she watched Case's lips thin and his nostrils flare. It was the last thing she saw as he pulled her off the floor and into his arms.

His mouth moved across her lips, searching and taunting, until she opened her mouth beneath his touch, just as he demanded, and swallowed his urgent moan of need. She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into the strength of his body.

Everything Lily was, everything she'd ever wanted to be, revolved around the way this man was making her feel. His body swelled and hardened beneath her belly and Lily groaned in remembrance as he moved seductively against her, pressing himself into the part of her that burned for the man in her arms.

Then, as suddenly as he'd swooped, he stepped away, and Lily was left standing alone and aching as Case slid the list from her shaking fingers and smiled.

"I'll be back. Don't forget me while I'm gone."

Lily stared, stupefied by the absurdity of his remark. Forget Case Longren? Not in this lifetime. She buried her face in her hands and leaned back against the door facing as she heard him drive away. She was not going to survive this damnable roundup!

It was late as Case came down the hallway toward Lily's bedroom. His trip to town had been delayed by news he hadn't expected to face so soon. Lane Turney had met Case on the street, demanding back pay and his belongings that were still at the ranch.

The confrontation hadn't been pleasant, but it had served its purpose. Case had spent weeks telling himself what he would say to the man who'd frightened and shamed Lily so badly and then wrecked his car in the process.

Yet when the opportunity had arisen, all he'd been able to do was promise Turney if he ever so much as looked at Lily Brownfield again, there wouldn't be enough left of him for the coyotes to fight over.

Turney had turned several shades of red fury and stomped away, knowing that the man who'd been his boss meant every syllable of every word he'd just spit in his face.

"I still want my things," Turney had shouted over his shoulder as he'd hurried down the street, satisfied that he'd at least had the last word.

Case had completed his errands in brooding silence and hurried home, suddenly anxious to see Lily and reassure himself that she was all right. The memory of how close she'd come to harm at Lane Turney's hands still rankled and frightened him.

The main house was in darkness as he drove up; the only lights burning were in the downstairs hallway and in the wing where Lily was staying.

He put away the things she'd requested from town, then picked up a small, flat box from the kitchen table and headed toward her room.

He walked up to her door, heard the sound of the shower running, and knew that she was already undressed and washing away the grit and grime of the day before retiring for bed. He groaned softly to himself, picturing the sight he knew he'd see if he'd only slip into the bathroom and into the shower with Lily. But it was too soon for familiarities such as that.

Yes, Lily had made love with him, but she'd also just as effectively shut him back out of her life. He had no intentions of rushing her into something she wasn't ready to face. Even if Case knew in his heart that she cared, he needed to hear the words from her own lips, not just feel it in the way she touched him.

He carefully turned the knob, peeked into her room, secure in the knowledge that he could complete his mission and leave before Lily exited her shower, and hurried over to the bed, anxious to leave his surprise.

Moments later, Lily turned off the water, grabbed for the bath towel and wrapped it around her body as she stepped out of the shower. She wrapped another, turban style, around her long, wet hair, and then began to dry herself before reaching for the hairdryer and the brush.

The steam was hot and thick in the tiny, enclosed bathroom, and Lily opened the door and left it ajar as she started the hairdryer. She leaned over, letting her hair fall loosely forward toward the floor as she moved the hot air above it in an unconscious rhythm.

It dried, and as it did, it fell in loose, taffy-colored waves, still clinging to her face and back in damp persistence. Lily straightened, and then stared as the steam slowly disappeared from the vanity mirror, revealing by its reflection the long, gossamer gown lying across the bed in the room behind her.

The dryer slipped from her hands and swiftly unplugged itself as it fell to the floor with a thud. The towel Lily had wrapped around her body loosened and slid to the floor beside it as she turned and stared.

It wasn't her imagination. It was strawberry silk, long and sheer, and Lily slid it up and over her head as if in a dream.

Case held his breath as he watched her walk across the floor toward her bed in unconscious abandon, oblivious of her own nudity as she picked up his gift and slid it over her bare body, lifting the heavy fall of her hair out from under the lace shoulder straps as she smiled softly in obvious delight.

Her hands slid down the length of the gown, from breasts to thighs, as she tested the satiny softness of its fabric against the palms of her hands. She closed her eyes, remembering the gown that Case had ripped from her body the night of the storm, and then turned at the thought of his name and knew he would be there.

Case took a deep breath as she turned toward him, met the wild green stare she sent his way as she realized he'd witnessed her state of undress, and shoved his fists as far down into his front pockets as they would go. God help him, he had to put them somewhere besides on Lily Brownfield.

Every sensuous movement of her body was accentuated by the fluidity of the pink silk that cupped and flowed around her like wind on water. Every muscle in his body expanded. If he had to walk, he would burst.

"It fits okay?" he asked, his voice quiet, anxious. She nodded.

"It's beautiful," Lily answered softly, and stroked her hands against her thighs, reveling in the feel of silk beneath her fingers.

"Just like you," Case answered, and then before Lily could answer or argue, he disappeared down the hallway.

Tears came so quickly, Lily didn't even know they were there until one fell from the corner of her mouth down onto the tip of one silk-covered breast, dotting the fragile fabric. A sob slipped up her throat and out into the quiet emptiness of her room. Lily shuddered, staggered backward until her legs felt the bed behind her and sank down in welcome abandon.

"Damn you, Case Longren," she muttered through tear-stained lips. "Damn you for making me believe you."

She rolled over on her side, drew herself up into a tiny pink ball of misery and cried herself to sleep.

Duff glared at Lane Turney as he swaggered and bragged while gathering his belongings. The sooner this man left the ranch, the better he'd feel. Something about him made Duff uneasy. He didn't know whether it was the fact that bad blood had already passed between him and the boss, or the fact that Turney's eyes kept sweeping toward the main house, obviously for a sight of Miss Lily. Either way, it would be none too soon for his liking when Turney left.

"You about through?" Duff asked sharply.

Tumey glared, grabbed at his suitcase and jacket, and stomped toward the door, refusing to answer. He didn't owe this beat-up and aging excuse of a man the time of day.

He walked out into the sunshine, threw his belongings into the back of his pickup truck, and started around to the driver's side when one of the men came around the corner of the bunkhouse and shouted at Duff.

"Boss is looking for you," Pete called, pointing toward the corrals where some good-sized steers were being loaded into waiting trucks.

Duff stared pointedly at Turney, saw that he was getting into his truck, satisfied himself that his duty was done, and hurried to answer Case's call for help.

It was the opening that Turney had been waiting for. He slipped away from the truck, using the multitude of outbuildings for cover as he made his way toward the back of the lot where the herd bull was being kept. He'd make Longren sorry he'd refused to give him his back pay. He didn't buy the line that the vehicle he'd wrecked was worth ten times what had been owed him. He wanted revenge.

Turney couldn't mask the twinge of panic that twisted his gut as the huge dun-colored Brahman turned to watch his arrival.

The bull snorted and ducked his head, pawing at the ground with his forefeet as Turney moved toward the gate. Dust flew up and around his massive head, coating his long lop-ears and the huge hump on his back before drifting into his eyes and nostrils. It only served to make him madder.

Turney had a moment of regret after he slid the gate off the latch and then made a run for his truck.

The bull was so damn big and mean, but . . . Longren should have given him his money. He made a dive for the truck, started it and drove away in a cloud of red dust, leaving the Bar L and everyone on it as nothing more than bad memories.

The bull continued to bellow and paw at the ground, angered by the earlier presence of the man, as he butted and shoved at the heavy, metal rods of the corral fence. And then suddenly he was free! There was nothing between him and the sound of cows bawling but open space and dust. He tossed his head, snorting in angry abandon, and headed toward his herd with deadly, singleminded intent.

Case exited the walkway beside the loading chute and watched the last truck driving away to market with his steers. It was always a good feeling to know that he'd made it through another roundup. There wasn't much left to do after the steers were hauled off. In less than a week the roundup would be nothing but a tired memory, and the business of getting through a long, hot summer would be next on the agenda.

He took off his Stetson, slapping it against his leg as he walked to knock off the worst of the persistent dust, and headed toward the house. He was lost in thought, staring down at the ground as he walked, when lie heard Duff yell. The sound of Duff's voice was high and strained, and the panic in it made Case's blood run cold.

When he looked up, he came face to face with the reason Duff and the men were screaming a warning.

The herd bull was loose! Less than fifty feet from Case stood a ton and a half of fury, head down, dust flying. A deep, angry bellow erupted from the belly of the animal and a shiver of dread ran all the way up Case's spine.

He looked frantically toward the house, knowing that the bull was between the yard and safety, looked back toward the corrals, their distance growing with every beat of his heart, and made his decision. He'd have to try and get back to the corrals. He had no choice. it was the last thought Case had before the bull began to move, gathering momentum like a freight train out of control as he headed toward the man who stood between him and his herd.

Case flung his hat at the bull and pivoted toward the barns, running parallel to Duff and his men, and prayed. His long legs stretched with each panicked stride, but still the bull came on. and the distance shrank between them until Case could feel the ground beneath his feet vibrating from the bull's weight as he came on and on, faster and faster, with deadly precision.

It was an instant's knowledge that he wasn't going to make it, and with it the thought that he might never have that life with Lily after all.

Please God, if this is it, make it fast, Case prayed, and felt the whoosh of the bull's angry breath down the middle of his back.

NINE

Lily had just finished putting away the last of the pots and pans from the noon meal and was looking forward to her hour of free time before she had to worry about what to fix this evening.

She watched the last of the cattle trucks pulling away and knew that her time on the Bar L was quickly drawing to a close. Fingers of dread, regret, and something she refused to put a name to pulled her stomach into a knot. When the time came, she wasn't going to be ready to leave Case. But yesterday, the look of disgust on the deliveryman's face had gone a long way toward throwing Lily back into the state of mind in which she'd first arrived.

She slammed the cabinet door shut, wiped her damp hands on a kitchen towel and dropped it carelessly onto the countertop. Last night's sleeplessness wasn't helping matters either. Her eyes burned, and when she thought about it, tears kept puddling persistently.

Lily undid her apron, hung it across the back of a chair, then walked into the den. She pulled the tail of her mint green shirt out of its neat tuck inside matching striped slacks and started to kick off her shoes. It was the scream of a man in terror that stopped everything but tier heart. What she saw as she pivoted toward the window nearly ended that function, too.

It was Duff that was screaming, yelling at the top of his voice, his little short legs churning up the dust as he ran. Other men were following closely behind, dragging ropes, waving their hands, yelling in unison as they tried to capture the attention of the dun-colored mass of fury that stood transfixed in the middle of the barnyard between the house and outbuildings.

It only took Lily a second to see what . . . or rather who . . . had captured the bull's attention. Case! His only avenue of safety cut off by the bull's presence.

"Nooo!" Lily groaned, as she watched the scene unfolding before her eyes.

The bull began to move just as Case flung his hat at it in a last-minute attempt to distract its attention and then everything seemed to happen in slow motion.