Rexanne Becnel (16 page)

When she bristled at his clear innuendo, he only laughed. “Come on, Lacie. Be a gracious lady. Take my hand, and let me help you down. Your obstinance is only drawing more attention.”

To her vast dismay, it appeared he was correct, for not only were Jessica and her friends covertly watching them, so were Mrs. Mooring and several of the other town matrons. Still, it was hard for her to show good grace as she stepped nearer his great grinning countenance.

“You are vile,” she hissed as she grudgingly took his hand.

“You’re just saying that,” he murmured with an amused twist to his lips. Then he took her by the waist and easily swung her down to the dusty street.

“Thank you,” she muttered as she stepped stiffly out of his grasp.

“You’re welcome.” He smiled down at her. “Now, where shall we eat this delicious-looking lunch I’ve won for us?”

“I’m not hungry.” She smiled smugly, then turned to slip past him.

“Then we’ll just stroll around together until you work up a better appetite,” he replied as he casually took her arm in his.

“No!” Lacie cried, pulling her arm abruptly from his. When several faces turned curiously toward her, she quickly averted her eyes. “I don’t want to stroll around with you,” she muttered more quietly. “I don’t want to eat lunch with you or—or even to be here at all.”

Dillon stared steadily at her, his gaze calm and far too perceptive. “All right, Lacie. If you want to leave, we can do that too.”

That was no solution to her dilemma, she thought distractedly as he waited for her response. She was trying her best to avoid being alone with him, yet no matter which way she turned, he seemed always to be lying in wait.

If only his interest in her were sincere.

But that errant thought she swiftly squelched. She knew far too well why he was interested in her. Yet still she was hard pressed to feign indifference to him.

“Perhaps we should leave,” she finally answered, without looking at him.

“As you wish.” There was a note of wry amusement in his voice that she could not miss.

As they made their way through town, his great stallion behind them, she was uncomfortably aware of the many curious looks the townsfolk sent their way. She hated to speculate on which bit of gossip intrigued them more: her suspicious marriage to Frederick Kimbell; the return of Miles Kimbell’s bastard son; or the very odd pair the two of them made. Whichever it was, she wanted nothing more than to be away from it.

When they reached the carriage, she took advantage of his preoccupation with the horses to scramble up to the seat. She knew he noticed and that he found her defensiveness immensely amusing. But what else was she to do?

“I can drive the carriage myself. You can ride your horse,” she stated briskly.

“I’m afraid he’s worn out from the race. I wouldn’t think of riding him now. No”—he grinned, then climbed easily up to the driver’s perch beside her—“I think I’ll ride here with you.”

Unnerved by his sudden nearness, Lacie quickly set the picnic basket between them. Then she smoothed her skirts and took a calming breath, although it did her little good.

They did not speak as he skillfully guided the team through the crowded street. The strains of merry harmonica music drifted to them and merged with the sounds of gay voices to create a pleasant, relaxed background. Yet Lacie could not relax, nor could she enjoy the town of Kimbell, even today at its most congenial. The man sitting so near her had insured that. Every move he took seemed designed to aggravate her. In fact, everything that had happened today seemed part of a conspiracy against her.

The only good thing she could find was that the sun had gone behind the clouds, and the wind had picked up. At least the ride home would not be made worse by the midday heat.

“How about digging into that basket for some lunch?”

Lacie glanced warily at Dillon, but he was watching the team. Something in her wanted to say no to him, to every request he made, no matter how small or how reasonable. But that would accomplish nothing. With her lips pursed in annoyance, she lifted the lid of the large oak-split basket and poked around inside.

“There’s fried chicken, cornbread.” She lifted out two bundles and investigated further. “Pickles, tomatoes, shortbread. And two bottles of sarsaparilla.”

“I’ll take some of everything.” This time he looked at her with a familiar half-smile. “If you would be so kind as to make me a plate.”

“I wouldn’t want you to starve.” Her agreeable words were colored by the faint sarcasm in her voice. Still, the two of them managed to make a decent meal of it as they headed south along the road that followed Brush Bayou. Lacie even dared to hope that the entire trip might pass without any discomfiture on her part. But then he leaned back in the seat and turned his vivid gaze on her.

“Tell me, did you enjoy the race?”

She met his eyes briefly, then willed herself to look away. “I would have preferred that Mr. Harris had won. Or young Cliff,” she stated as she stared determinedly at the broad withers of the off-side horse.

“And here I thought you were rooting for me.” He laughed. “Didn’t you enjoy this nice lunch I won for us? Or perhaps it was the kiss you were unhappy with?”

At that Lacie abruptly turned to stare at him. Why was he bringing up that uncomfortable subject?

“Come to think of it,” he continued, his eyes glowing with a warmer light, “that wasn’t the kiss I really deserved for riding such an inspired race.”

“You deserved?” she gasped. “You received
much more
of a reward than you deserved.”

“All right. I’ll go along with you on that. I don’t deserve a real kiss for my ride.” Then she felt his knuckle slide along the side of her neck, and she began to tremble. “It’s you who deserves a kiss—for giving me a reason to win.”

Lacie could not tear her eyes away from his dark compelling gaze. Logic deemed this a perfect time to dismiss him, to cut him down, and make him look the fool. Yet it was beyond her ability to do so. With his lightest touch and potent gaze he seemed to command her will, for all she could think of was how much she had wanted his kiss as she’d stood on that wagon bed.

And how much more she wanted it now!

With a low groan of dismay for her weakness, she turned her face away. “Don’t do this,” she ordered, trying to summon up anger to replace the confusion that always swept over her when he touched her. “Don’t do this!” But Dillon was not so easily shaken off.

“Come on, Lacie.” His finger slid once more along the sensitive skin of her neck, then farther along the curve of her jaw. “I could have taken a real kiss from you in front of the whole town.”

“So why didn’t you?” she blurted out, not clear in her own mind whether she was relieved or annoyed that he had not.

“I didn’t want to make things more difficult for you than they already are.”

“Since when do you care about me?” she accused softly, trying to shrug off his disturbing touch.

He did not answer at once but instead picked up the basket between them and set it behind their seat. Then he put his arm around her shoulders and drew her quite firmly next to him.

“What are you doing?” she gasped as a hot knot coiled deep in her belly. She struggled weakly to break his grasp, but he only tightened his hold.

“Give me my kiss, Lacie,” he murmured huskily in her ear. “I earned it. And anyway, you want me to have it.”

She wanted to deny it. With every fiber of her being, she wanted to deny it. But she could not.

She was shivering in his warm embrace, trembling in both fear and longing. She felt his hand at the back of her head, and the loosening of her hair beneath his clever fingers. She felt the heat of his strong body pressed now so warmly against her. She even heard the rumble of thunder and the dull flash of lightning beyond the low hanging clouds. But none of that mattered. What dominated all else was the way he was looking at her.

Those eyes might have been swallowing her whole, so fiercely did they devour her. Yet Lacie could not truly fear such complete surrender to him. All she knew was that his kiss would be divine and that she wanted it.

When his face lowered to hers, she stared at him as if mesmerized. Emotions smoldered in his eyes—desire, most certainly, and triumph as well. But she could not begin to fathom the rest. Then his lips met hers, and her eyes closed in willing surrender.

Could a kiss be at once sweet and wicked? Could lips be tender and passionate? Could she both long for and fear this intimate embrace? Lacie shut out those confusing thoughts as she drowned in the fierce emotions that captured her. Her head fell back against his arm as their lips clung together. Then Dillon shifted a little, and they were suddenly fitted together in the most intimate of embraces. Her arm reached up to circle his neck; her mouth parted beneath the seductive teasing of his tongue against her lips. She was caught up in a glorious passion that she nonetheless feared terribly.

He was not to be trusted, she tried to tell herself.

Yet it was futile, for she was already lost.

When his hand moved sensuously down her side, she arched helplessly toward it. When his kiss deepened, becoming more urgent and more demanding, she only opened more fully to his wicked onslaught. Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled, but they only seemed part of the violent storm that shook her now.

She was not aware when the horses stopped nor how she came to be lying back upon the meager driver’s seat. She only knew that the weight of Dillon’s body pressing upon hers felt incredibly right. His hips pressed against her belly. One of his legs rested intimately between hers.

“So sweet,” he murmured to her. “So sweet, and yet so filled with fire.”

Hadn’t she secretly longed for just such passionate words from him? Hadn’t she thought about it as she lay in her bed at night?

No, she told herself. No, she never had. Nor had she ever truly wanted this wild, out-of-control feeling that overwhelmed her now. Frantically, she tried to clear her head and gather her wits.

“Dillon…”

He raised his head and gazed down into her eyes, glazed still with passion. For once his own expression was unguarded and easy to read, and Lacie had to turn her face away from the clear desire she saw there. His desire was no less than her own, and a part of her leaped in eager response to that knowledge. But desire was not love—and he still could not be trusted.

“Don’t turn away from me,” he murmured huskily. He cupped her face with one warm palm and forced her to meet his gaze. “It’s so good between us, Lacie. Don’t turn away now.”

“But it’s—it’s
not
good,” she managed to say despite the sudden catch in her throat.

“It could be. Just don’t fight it. Don’t fight me.”

“But I—I must. I must fight you.”

He shook his head softly at her words. “Ah, you stubborn little fool.” Then he lowered his face and took her mouth in a kiss of searing intensity. As if he were determined to wipe away every opposition in her mind, he pressed his sensuous advantage.

Lacie could not long resist his fierce ardor. When his kiss moved down to her neck, then to the soft hollow of her throat, she ran her fingers through his raven-black hair. When his hand found her breast, she gasped in exquisite pleasure. Then she felt his other hand sliding along the tender flesh behind her knee and upward toward her thigh. She jumped in alarm.

“Oh, Dillon. No—you mustn’t…”

“Hush, sweetheart. Hush.” He quickly moved to kiss her lips, but she shook her head in rising panic. She pushed at his shoulder, but it was to no avail. He only caught her hand in his, then brought it to his lips.

“Don’t stop me now, Lacie. This is what we’ve both been waiting for.”

“No, no,” Lacie moaned as she pulled her hand free. Another bolt of lightning lit the sky, and thunder boomed in its wake.

“Dammit, Lacie! I know you want this as badly as I do. Don’t start up this farce of yours again. Not now.”

“It’s no farce. It’s no act!” she gasped, struggling in earnest to push him away.

Dillon stared at her for a long moment. Then the warmth in his eyes faded, replaced by another harder emotion. “If this is no act—” he began. Then he stopped and after a moment slowly pushed himself away from her. “You can tell me all day long—and all night long, for that matter—that you don’t want this. But we both know you’re a liar.”

He smiled bitterly as she scrambled from him, trying to cover her bared legs with one hand while she struggled with her loosened neckline with the other. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you that honesty is the best policy?”

In her shame and mortification Lacie struck back blindly. “You’re not honest! So don’t you preach to me!”

“Ah, but I
am
honest,” he said, grabbing her wrist and forcing her to face him. “I told you from the beginning that I wanted my rightful inheritance. And I’m telling you now that I want you too. In my bed. Naked and writhing beneath me,” he added harshly. For a long tense moment, his eyes bored into hers. Then he let go of her wrist and leaned back in the seat.

Lacie was shaking with anger. But that could not entirely disguise the confusion and the incredible longing that still had her in its grip. To make things even worse, tears of humiliation sprang to her eyes. She turned away at once, trying to hold them back, but she could not prevent a wayward tear from slipping free and sliding down her cheek. Furiously she wiped it away with the back of her fist, but not before he saw it.

“Lacie…”

She heard his voice, softer now. Huskier. But she was too afraid to look at him. Then without any warning the clouds opened up, and they were deluged with rain.

She heard his muttered oath as the horses jerked forward. But he quickly applied the brake and brought them under control.

“Get in the back,” he ordered, then held her arm as she struggled to clamber over the seat. Once she was within the sheltered portion of the brett, she fell back on the upholstered seat. For a brief moment their eyes met in a look that encompassed all the terrible and difficult emotions that loomed between them. Then he turned away from her, pushed his hat low over his eyes, and hunched forward in the driving rain. The horses leaped forward at his command, and the carriage was soon careening toward home.