He wore a pair of those heavy work pants by Levi Strauss, tight and slightly faded, and a cotton shirt with a western yoke. Wet rings spread between his shoulder blades and under his arms, and he was covered in dust. His usually well-groomed hair was plastered to his forehead, bent oddly by the hatband of the disreputable Stetson in his hand.
Her nose wrinkled with distaste. He smelled strongly of horse. Her smile stiffened as he advanced into the room. Somehow, she had expected his inspection of the ranch to be more . . . gentlemanly. Poring over accounts in a tidy office or something of that nature. This was a side to him she’d never seen before, yet had always instinctively feared to see. A raw, earthy, and—oh dear, dare she even think it? A lusty side.
“I apologize for appearing before you in this state,” he said properly enough, but it was obvious he was in high spirits. “I just wanted to let you know we’ll be leaving as soon as I clean up. That should allow us enough time to reach town before the sun sets. I’m sure your father wouldn’t want you traveling these country roads after dark.” He ran his fingers through his disheveled hair. “Is your wrap still in the buggy? It’s getting cooler.”
Jane-Ellen assured him she would be ready, and he grinned as he excused himself and took the stairs two at a time. When he returned surprisingly quickly, looking once again like the Jake she knew, she’d donned her redingote and gloves and was in the process of anchoring a pearl-headed hatpin through her hat. She thanked the cook for her courtesy and allowed Jake to usher her out to the buggy.
Jake was in a marvelous mood, and all the way back to town he regaled Jane-Ellen with progress reports of the ranch, unstintingly praising the foreman’s custodianship. When Jake was away from it, he tended to forget how much he loved the place, with its clean country air and particularly its stables, redolent of horses and hay. He caught himself just as he was about to launch into an enthusiastic accounting of Thunder’s mating with Buttercup. Lord, man, he reminded himself in the nick of time, you can’t tell a gently raised female that!
But he grinned in the gathering dusk. There was nothing quite so elemental as witnessing a stallion cover a mare. It was nature at its finest, basic and honest and inherently erotic, with the stallion’s advance, the mare’s retreat—until both were quivering with expectation. He’d watched Buttercup reject Thunder again and again. It wasn’t until she was damn good and ready that the stallion had finally cornered her and climbed over her back, teeth sunk into her neck to hold her in place. Then, with thrusting haunches, Thunder had completed his mission.
Jake had envied that damn horse. And he’d sympathized with the amount of effort needed before the beast finally achieved its goal.
When Jake walked into the parlor and saw Jane-Ellen sitting there, cool and pristine on the velvet settee, he’d wished for a moment they were married. Wished he had the right to stride across the room, roll Jane-Ellen onto the floor, throw up her skirts, and take her right there on Augusta’s antique carpet. He longed for the right to muss her up a little. There was something a bit unearthly about Jane-Ellen, which he figured originated in her perpetual tidiness. As a result, he was endlessly careful with her. But, Lord love him, in his imagination—?
Jake harbored too many pent-up emotions right this moment to be satisfied with chaste kisses, so in his mind he kissed her with every bit of passion in him.
They arrived at Jane-Ellen’s house just as the mauve streaks of twilight faded into night’s darkness. Jake escorted her to her front door.
“Thank you for taking me with you,” she said and smiled at him. “I had a lovely time.” She stood on tiptoe to deliver a chaste kiss. She’d learned from past experience that there was a high level of pleasure to be derived from kissing Jake Murdock.
But then he slipped his hands into her hair and twisted his mouth over hers, breaking the closed seal of her lips. And with a small groan, he slid his tongue into her mouth.
Slapping her hands to his chest, Jane-Ellen shoved him away. “Jake Murdock!” she exclaimed, experiencing the small surge of distaste she’d felt when he’d invaded the ranch parlor reeking of man, horse, and work. She pinned a reproachful stare on him as she patted her mussed strands of hair back into her coiffure.
Jake blinked down at her. It only took him an instant to note her patent disapproval, and it flicked him on the raw. In the cool silence, broken only by the nightly chorus of frogs and crickets, he acknowledged her inexperience and mustered a smile. But he couldn’t block the trace of coolness in his tone when he said, “You needn’t look as though you kissed a toad.”
“You put your tongue in my mouth!”
“It’s a lover’s kiss, and the way men and women show affection . . . desire. Don’t expect me to apologize for it.”
Jane-Ellen blushed to the roots of her hair and Jake sighed. Running a hand around the back of his neck, he looked down at her. “Jane-Ellen, do you like me?”
“Yes, you know I do.”
“I like you too. Very much. I think perhaps I even love you, girl. But I need to show my feelings with more than the virtuous little kisses we’ve exchanged up until now.” Annnnd . . . shit, she looked scared to death. So, he smiled gently as he brushed his fingertips over her cheek. “Nothing improper, Jane-Ellen. But I need to kiss you like a man kisses a woman.”
“With your tongue?”
“With my tongue.”
She shivered a bit, but then she tilted her head up. “Very well.”
She acceded to his wish with all the enthusiasm of Saint Joan offering her executioners a match, but Jake smiled and leaned over to kiss her the way he’d wanted to for so long. He kept it brief and gentle, but even so she stood stiffly in his embrace.
He raised his head, disappointed in her response. But he reminded himself she was a virgin and that this was all very new to her. He pressed a final, closed-mouth peck on her lips, and she seemed to perk up. Stepping back, he whispered, “Good night.”
“Good night, Jake.” Jane-Ellen gazed up at him. That kind of kiss wasn’t quite so terrible when you were braced for it. She supposed, if she had to, she could grow accustomed to it. “Thank you again for taking me to the ranch.”
Jake sat in the buggy for a moment after Jane-Ellen went inside. Finally, he picked up the reins. And eschewing Mamie Parker’s sporting establishment, where he’d really like to go, he headed home.
5
Augusta’s house
SATURDAY, JULY 22, 1899
Hattie ripped the big bow from her hair. “I look ridiculous!”
She had been unnaturally subdued the past few days, but it wasn’t until this moment that Augusta realized why. In all honesty, Augusta hadn’t questioned the reasons at first. She had simply given thanks for the respite.