The Rancher Takes A Bride (29 page)

She jumped, startled by Travis sitting in the shadows. "You scared me."

"Sorry. I wanted to make sure you made it home okay."

His voice was low and as smooth as silk, sending a delicious shiver down her spine.

"The director kept us an extra two hours tonight."

He'd waited for her, pretending to be concerned for her safety. She continued walking up the steps and across the porch until she stood before him. She didn't have the strength to fight him and had no desire to continue their earlier disagreement. He reached up, took her by the hand, and gently pulled her down onto the swing beside him. The touch of his hand was warm and pleasant, almost comforting.

"You look like you're about ready to fall down."

"I'm tired," she said.

"Rough rehearsal?" he asked.

"The worst yet. I don't know what I expected from acting, but I wasn't prepared for the endless hours of standing on the stage saying the same lines over and over. Or waiting while someone else repeated their lines time and again."

"It's a lot of hard work then?"

"Harder than anything I've ever done."

A cool night breeze blew against her skin, teasing the wisps of curls that had fallen from the twist at the back of her head. Sitting next to Travis in the dark, not talking, just resting, was soothing. A sense of closeness enveloped her, as if they were the only people for miles and miles in the dark.

It was almost as if she knew when he was going to take his next breath, and her body adjusted to be in pulse with him. Adjusted and fell into a rhythm with this man who was her captor.

She turned her face toward Travis in the dark, and he reached out and brushed the curls away from her face. "I ... I owe you an apology."

Rose swallowed, feeling suddenly very nervous. She was tired, and she was enjoying the peace of just sitting beside him, feeling close.

"Do we have to talk?" she asked, wanting only to enjoy his presence beside her.

He pulled her head down onto his shoulder, and she relaxed against him, soaking up the feel of his body heat.

"I mean, didn't we say it all this afternoon?" She was so tired, she knew her defenses were down and she couldn't take another battle. Not now. Not when she needed to feel his arms around her, holding her as though he was keeping the world at bay, keeping her safe in the security of his embrace.

"That's what I need to apologize for." He picked up her hand and held it, his thumb caressing her skin. "This afternoon, you were right. I have been avoiding you," he said, not looking at her. "I wasn't prepared for the fact that you were a virgin. Your innocence took me completely off guard."

She didn't move; her head lay still against his shoulder. "You thought there had been many men in my life, didn't you?"

He nodded his head. "Yes."

She laughed. "Why? What made you think that I was well acquainted with the ways of love?"

"The way you acted at that roadhouse in Waco and the way you talk sometimes led me to believe you weren't an innocent," he acknowledged, gazing at her in the darkness. There was genuine surprise in his voice.

"If you had known I was a virgin, would you have made love with me?"

He was silent for a moment.

"Honestly?" he asked, pausing to consider. "Yes. But you should have given me some clue that it was your first time."

"I wasn't thinking very clearly at that moment. And I certainly wasn't contemplating stopping you," she admitted, feeling the heat suffuse her face in the darkness.

She would never admit it out loud, but even now she didn't know if she would stop him if he were to pursue her again. But worse, she didn't want to halt him. The strength of his arms around her caused her breathing to quicken and her pulse to beat erratically.

"You have to remember that my father, Isaiah, and an occasional woman friend of my father were the people who took care of me when I was a child." She yawned. "My father's lady friends did not exactly attend church."

"I'm sorry for the way I've treated you since ... since we were down at the pond."

She sat up and gazed at him. "You really are apologizing?"

"Yes, I am." He smiled. "Have I been that bad?"

"You were a
casse-couilles
. "

"And what is that?" he asked.

"A pain in the
derriere
."

He chuckled while his hand stroked her face. "Where did you learn to speak French? And you've already admitted to being born here in America, so don't give me that line about coming from France. I'm not buying it."

Rose smiled and relaxed against the back of the swing. "Papa had a girlfriend who was from France. I was eighteen and completely enamored of her. She was teaching me to speak French—until she found Papa with another woman. Then I never saw her again. But she taught me mainly curse words, so that I could say them without anyone knowing what I was saying."

He laughed and brushed back her hair.

"I found that I attracted attention when I spoke French. People automatically assume you're from France. I never lied, but I also never contradicted what they wanted to believe."

Travis shook his head, but didn't say anything.

Rose glanced out at the stars twinkling in the north Texas sky. It felt so cozy as she pushed the swing back with her foot, sending the wooden seat to rocking. Travis followed her lead by leaning against the back of the swing. Slowly he raised his arm and slipped it around her shoulders, pulling her in close. She enjoyed the feel of his body against hers.

Swinging on the front porch in the dark, with Travis's arm around her, felt so good, yet they still had so much unresolved between them. The ring, his accusations, and her acting separated them like the bars of the city jail. But tonight she just wanted to relax, be with him, pretend that everything was fine, pretend that he was courting and she was his lady. Nothing would ever come of this strange attraction between them, because he could never accept who she was. But for just tonight she wanted to forget their problems, if only for a little while. She needed comforting, and for some reason Travis soothed her better than anyone.

He turned his head toward her at the same time she turned toward him and glanced into his smoldering brown eyes. As the moon slipped from behind a cloud, she could see him gazing at her in that special way that always seemed to take her breath away. His full lips were mere inches away. Inches from pressing against hers, after being separated for what seemed like an eternity.

She needed his touch, his hands molding her against him in the most intimate way. She wanted to feel the way his kiss shattered her soul and left her soaring for the sky. She longed to see if what she had experienced by the pond had been real and not just a muddy dream.

With a sigh, she moved, slanting her lips over his, reveling in the sheer joy that consumed her as their mouths connected. Eagerly, he pulled her closer into his arms, his tongue mating with hers, his scent heady and powerful.

It'd been so long since he'd kissed her, so long since the pond, and she'd missed his touch, his strong embrace, the warmth of his kiss, the taste of Travis as he moved his mouth over hers. The closeness she felt with him tonight was powerful, yet frightening.

Travis Burnett had the ability to sway her ardently, to persuade her to give herself and her deepest emotions to him. He was her captor and her lover, yet she'd wanted neither. Now she didn't know what she desired, though the thought of leaving Travis left a hole the size of Texas in her heart.

With his arms, he shifted her until he could lay her down in the swing, his body leaning over her. Her head came to rest against the arm, and the swing teetered unsteadily as his lips moved over her mouth, teasing her bottom lip, gently nibbling until she opened her mouth, reveling in the feel of his lips against hers.

Why did this man have the power to make her feel more than anyone?

She cared about Travis. She'd missed him these last few weeks; she'd missed his scent, his smile, the way his eyes followed her around the room. She'd missed his honesty, his trustworthiness, but most of all she'd missed his sensuality that had the ability to make her lose all rational thought.

His hand trailed down her body, down her chest, his mouth never leaving hers while his lips continued working their magic. She squirmed beneath his touch, wanting her handsome cowboy so badly.

Heat stronger than the midday sun fired through her as his fingers kneaded her breast. A moan slipped from her lips as desire rippled through her, causing her to twitch beneath him. She wanted to feel his lips around her nipple, feel his caresses once more.

Her breathing was harsh as she lay beneath him in the swing. The feel of his fingers pushing aside her clothing had her arching to give him easier access. But when she moved, the swing started to teeter precariously. Her bodice was open, her breasts exposed, her arms pinned by the material of her dress. Before she could halt the swing with her foot, she felt herself catapulting through the air.

At the last possible second, Travis twisted her body so that she fell on top of him. They hit the porch with a thud, sending the swing flying out of control, precariously close to their heads.

"Keep your head down," Travis gasped as the swing came flying by. "Are you hurt?"

For a moment Rose was stunned. They'd fallen out of the swing onto the hard surface of the porch, but Travis had taken the brunt of the fall. She had landed on hard muscles that had softened the blow, cushioned in the safety of his arms.

A giggle surfaced. How totally ridiculous they must look, half lying in a swing, pushing aside clothing only to come tumbling out while in the midst of a passionate kiss.

Rose giggled out loud, trying to hold it in, knowing she should ask about Travis, fearful she had crushed him during the fall.

Her exhaustion had colored her perspective of the world, making everything appear funny. She would have laughed at anything, at this point.

"Are you all right?" She giggled.

He was silent. "Yes. I'm fine. My pride is slightly bruised, but I'm not harmed."

She laughed, and soon he was laughing with her. The sound was intoxicating to her ears. "We must look very silly, lying here on the porch, the swing going back and forth over us in the dark.'' She paused. "I guess you've never tried this with anyone else."

He rolled her off him to his side and positioned himself facing her. "No, you're the first I've fallen out of the swing with."

She smiled. "You need to perfect that maneuver if you plan on using it again," she whispered in the dark.

He reached out and smoothed away a curl that had fallen around her face. She swallowed, trying to calm her erratic pulse. A couple of minutes longer would have found them with their clothing shoved to the side, their bodies joined together. But the fall from the swing had cooled their ardor somewhat, though not totally.

And Rose wondered if it would always be this way between them.

"I ... I really do need to go in. Rehearsals start at ten in the morning and will go late tomorrow. I need to get some rest."

Travis ignored her remark, his hand tracing small patterns on her back. His fingers reached out, touched her chin, and gently turned her toward him. His lips brushed against hers in an exploratory kiss that held so many promises and unspoken desires. He gently sucked on her bottom lip, teasing the edges with his tongue.

Her breathing grew harsh and she put her hands between them and gently pushed, breaking the kiss.

"I really must go to bed."

She sat up and brushed aside the curls that had come loose with her fall. She glanced down at Travis, who was still lying on the porch. "Thanks for apologizing. I didn't understand and thought that maybe I had done something wrong that morning at the pond."

He reached up and touched her cheek. "You did nothing wrong. It was me. I . . . didn't know what to say. So I ran. Sometimes I feel like I'm still running."

***

Three nights later, Rose stood behind the makeshift curtain and looked out at the growing crowd. It was opening night, and the benches were rapidly filling up with people. Two rows of Burnetts sat close to the stage, and Rose couldn't help but feel nervous. Not only was this her first public performance, but Travis's entire family for miles around had come to show their support.

While it was a nice gesture, it didn't help her jitters, and she had a bad case of nerves. Sometimes she felt as though she was going to throw up, and other times she felt like laughing.

Everyone was ready backstage and wandered around with a half-dazed look on their faces. Rose could only imagine that they also suffered from stage fright. She watched a young man walking around the scaffold, lighting the lanterns. The audience was almost seated, and soon the curtain would open.

Rose glanced out the curtain one last time and spotted Travis and his family sitting on the fourth row. His shirt was fresh, and his hair was combed so perfectly that she wanted to run her hands through it and muss it up. Handsome was not a strong enough word to describe the virile cowboy.