Trail of Lust (2 page)

The ground was rocky and uneven between the barn and the spring. A few hundred yards off, the house stood, a weather-beaten but sturdy structure quite like the owner, Silas. The rest of the farm looked to be in need of some work, though. The barn had some loose boards and there simply wasn't enough ventilation for the cattle, let alone light. How had Silas managed to raise animals in such a shelter? The Hollis family believed in giving their animals plenty of sunlight.

Ahead of Graham, Kathleen sashayed through the high grasses. As they neared the spring, she slowed, picking her way more slowly in her bare feet.

He caught up to her. “Thank you for your assistance in the barn."

She sniffed and lifted her chin a notch, bringing his attention to the slender column of her throat. Her skin was as pale as new milk, marred only by a faint spattering of freckles across her nose and forehead.

He looked away. Damn, those freckles were as enticing as the rest of her. She had to have a fault besides being nosy, but it wasn't her appearance.

When she continued to ignore him, he attempted to get a closer look at her. The brim of his hat hung low, and he pushed it back.

She stopped walking and looked at him long and hard, her fingers twitching in the fabric of her skirt. All at once, he realized she was angry.

"Listen, I'm very sorry about calling you that nickname. It came to my mouth before my brain could snag it back."

She narrowed her eyes, but the corner of her full lips twitched.

He doffed his hat, holding it theatrically over his heart. “Please accept my apology, miss."

She went completely still. Her eyes grew rounder, accentuating the dark fringe of lashes surrounding the very blue depths. She was like stone, unmoving. Worry jumped into his chest. Was she going to faint from the heat? Had she been stung by a bee? He'd known a man in the war who had died from bee stings before the Yanks could get him. Maybe she was affected similarly. She wasn't wearing shoes.

He reached out for her automatically. Putting his hands on her was the only way to find out if she was truly all right.

His fingers brushed the underside of her arm and wrapped around her wrist. He stared down at them, wondering how that had happened while reveling in the delicateness of her bones. His fingers were very dark against the ivory of her blouse.

"Nib—I mean, miss? Are you all right?"

Her breath was coming fast, her breasts rising and falling, making the cloth of her shirt strain over them.

"M—” His words were cut off as she bridged the gap between them, stepping right into his arms.

One last thought flitted through his head.
A dead man.

SHIVERS RIPPLED DOWN Kathleen's spine and took up residence in her lower belly. She gave in to the dark feelings, guided by pure instinct as she threw herself at the handsome and rugged cowboy. She knew nothing about him other than what was rumored. Funny thing was, she'd had no inkling how hungry she was for a male touch until she set eyes on him. He had
those
eyes—his gaze pierced her to the depths of her soul. He looked right into her.

Graham caught her easily, lifting her onto tiptoe and settling his mouth over hers. Shock tore her in two. Disjointed thoughts loomed up and fled as soon as they materialized.
Hot. Musk. Muscles. Lord, save me.

When she'd agreed to lead him to the spring, she'd had no intention of throwing herself at him. The Hollis men were strong men—men who knew what they wanted. If Graham had wanted a woman, he would have had one before now.

The real shock was her response to him. Her pa had been talking to her for more than a year about finding that “special someone,” but until she saw Graham Hollis, the words had been flat. When she'd heard that nickname, Nibby, a wellspring of emotion had risen inside her. Her childish crush had suddenly come to life once more. Now she had a chance with this man who'd been the source of many daydreams in the past.

Graham wrapped his thick arms around her waist and pulled her snugly against his big chest, allowing her no room to breathe even if she could have. The distant sound of the wind ruffling the tall grasses reached her. Time seemed to slow.

Using his thumb, he applied pressure to her jaw until she opened her mouth for him. Heat blossomed in her core as the masculine flavors rushed into her from his lips and—

His tongue. She reeled. He gingerly touched the tip of his tongue to hers. The velvety gesture stroked her intimately—a caress she'd never known before. Her fingertips tingled, and her arms suddenly grew weightless. She snaked them around his neck and drew him to her, angling her head to receive his kiss.

A groan rumbled in his chest, enflaming her. Juices pooled between her thighs, and her sex throbbed heavily as it did sometimes when she awakened from dreams of a strong man holding her.

Graham Hollis was indeed a strong man. He kissed her with a thoroughness she'd wholeheartedly expected. But when his kiss turned rough, her body tingled to life. He chased her tongue into the depths of her mouth, tasting her deeply, each flick driving her toward some unseen need.

Her knees turned to water, and she sagged. He lashed her to him, scraping her skin with his unshaven jaw as he plundered her mouth.

Beneath her hands, the hair on his nape was soft and thick. The deep brown color had dizzied her with memories the instant he'd removed his hat. Of course she'd remembered from her childhood that he had hair this color, but in the sun it had gleamed like a fur pelt. She threaded her fingers through the mass, and he shuddered.

Suddenly, he tore his mouth away. She followed him, hungry for more of the sensations he raised in her. A growl emanated from his throat. She swung her gaze up and saw the primitive passion in his golden-brown eyes.

A ragged sigh left her.

"Miss..."

"Kathleen.” She sounded as if she'd outrun a pack of wolves. Staring at the gleam in his eyes, she wondered if she had.
No, I threw myself into the jaws of the biggest, most dangerous one.

He released her and took a step back, shaking himself. “I'm sorry for that—"

"It was me.” She discovered that bold trait that had put her in his arms.

"Well, yes, that's true, but I'm old enough to know better than to trifle—"

She prickled with irritation. She was no child. She knew what went on between men and women. “I'm old enough too.” Her words sounded childish, though.

"All right,” he said slowly, letting his gaze roam all over her as he had in the barn. Then, the touch had been almost a caress and had inspired such longing in her she'd acted the instant she got him alone.

Her father had always had called her impulsive, and this event seemed to prove it. She couldn't even remember what had brought them out here. At the moment, her heart was racing, drumming loudly within her head. Her blood was still singing, and her skin lifted in gooseflesh.

Graham Hollis was known to be a recluse in these parts. He stuck to the family ranch and rarely ventured off. After the war, word was he hadn't come home immediately but stayed away, roving the countryside. Many times Kathleen had puzzled over this. Why would a man have any desire to stay away after being on the march for so many years?

Staring at him, she saw evidence of the hard times he'd endured. Small creases fanned out from his glittering eyes and bracketed his mouth. He didn't wear a mustache as some men she knew, but it didn't look as if he'd shaved in many days either.

A shiver coursed down her spine at the thought of him bent over a washbasin, using a straightedge on his chiseled jaw.

He cleared his throat, bringing her back to the moment. A moment that was now pulsating with energy and attraction. She burned to move into his arms again.

"The, uh...spring?"

"Oh.” With some effort, she twisted away and headed down the rocky slope.

The water bubbled up out of the dark earth. He leaned over it and scooped up a handful. A chill ran through her just watching him, because she knew from years of experience that the temperature never warmed up, even in the dead of summer.

Graham splashed the water over his face, letting it run down his neck. She gaped at him, stunned that he hadn't even turned a hair at the cold. Then again, she might not either after the kiss they'd shared. Warmth still infused her.

He washed his hands to the elbows and then splashed his face again. Without turning, he said, “I can find my way back, Miss Allen."

Irritation sliced through the fog of sensual pleasure. She dug her toes into the dirt. “All right, then. I'll just be going.” With that, she turned and walked off.

Each footstep carrying her away made her ache to turn around and see if he was watching. He hadn't been immune to her—had kissed her with all the ferocity she'd heard the Hollis boys possessed.

Her nipples were two tight buds inside her blouse. She longed to strip down and sink into the hip bath, letting the water caress them. She continued on, walking back to the house slowly enough that he could catch up to her. Again, she wanted to look over her shoulder but dared not.

Passing the barn, she heard her father talking to the hired hand about the new calf. Worry infused her. In the past few months, her father's strength had begun to wane. He'd hired a young man to help him with the fields and cattle, but when her pa finally grew too old and worn, who would take over the ranch? Her brothers were all gone—two younger brothers to disease during their childhoods, and her older brother lost to the war. She was the last standing child of Silas and Emma Allen, and there was no way she could run this ranch.

Her father had broached the subject of her marrying soon. She was of age, after all. But she refused to bind herself to someone who didn't care for her. Lately, she'd been receiving correspondence from a distant cousin in Wyoming, and she suspected her father was seeking a match between them.

She also had a niggling feeling that the hired man, Jenkins, was interested in her. The way he looked at her made her hackles rise. She shared three square meals a day with him, but that didn't mean she liked him. And she certainly had no interest in him the way she did Graham Hollis.

Pulled from her thoughts, she caught the footsteps behind her.
Graham
. He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and dragged her to a stop.

She gasped, spinning and finding herself too close to him. She clamped her hands into fists and hid them in her skirts. Obviously she wasn't to be trusted around this man. She'd practically attacked him. He did things to her insides that she couldn't explain. His presence made her think about rumpled sheets and the salty taste of his skin.

She met his forceful gaze and nearly shrank at his thunderous expression. “You have need of something, sir?” Her voice wobbled, all of her boldness suddenly nonexistent.

"Yeah, I do. This.” He plucked her off her feet and pinned her against the side of an outbuilding. His broad chest was two of hers at least. He was so tall his head blocked out the sun when he leaned in.

Trailing his lips back and forth over hers, he raised shivers with his gentle touch. Each pass lit another fire inside her until she blazed with need. When she could be teased no more, she jerked his head down at the moment she surged upward. He groaned, slanting his mouth over hers, drinking from her until she was boneless in his hold.

He splayed a hand across her back, applying the perfect pressure. The knot in her lower belly tightened. He slipped his other hand around her, skimming her ribs.

White heat ripped through her.
This is how it's meant to be.

Suddenly, male voices broke through to her. Her befuddled mind didn't process them immediately, but apparently Graham's did.

He released her so swiftly her spine and the back of her head struck the wall behind her.

"Damn, I'm sorry.” He slid a hand behind her skull, cradling it in one big palm as he glanced around. When he realized what she already suspected—that her father and the hired man weren't standing feet away, witnessing their carnal act—the lines around Graham's eyes eased.

She stared up at him, wondering if he experienced the riotous emotions she did when they kissed. He ran the pad of his thumb over her lower lip, smearing the moisture there. Her breathing hitched.

"In the hour I've been here with you, I've apologized more than I ever have in my life.” His tone was half angry, half amused. He leaned in closer. “You don't want to mess with a man like me, Miss Allen. I'm no good for you."

A pang of regret struck her. While she hadn't meant to steal his kisses, she'd reveled in every tongue flick. Perhaps all kisses were this good, but she didn't think so. However, his words told her he had no intention of getting that close again.

He moved back a few steps as if to solidify her thought and gave her one last grim look before twisting on a heel and striding off toward the barn. Kathleen remained where she was, leaning heavily against the wall of the outbuilding, allowing it to support her until her quivering legs decided to.

What was she doing? She hadn't kissed Graham with the thought of ensnaring him as her husband, but now she could think of little else. Climbing into bed with any man besides that rough, rugged Hollis was unacceptable. She'd listened to her body when she'd thrown herself into his embrace. Should she listen to her mind? It was telling her to display her charms and see what came of it. Maybe she could convince him he wasn't bad for her after all.

Gathering her skirts, she set off for the barn. Determination burned inside her, which was good because it tamped down the uncertainty in her soul. She was a maid, unsoiled and inexperienced. And she was young. Perhaps he was right—playing with a man of Graham Hollis's experience and strength was dangerous.

He was war-hardened and had performed unspeakable acts during battle. Kathleen had heard reports of soldiers turning into thieves, murderers, and rapists. While she didn't think Graham was any of these things, he could definitely put the fear of God into a person. He was a Hollis man, after all.

That wasn't about to stop her.