A Man to Call My Own

Chapter 27

MARIAN WANDERED OUT TO the stable later that morning. Her intention was to ask the first cowhand she came across if he wouldn't mind teaching her to ride. When Chad got around to setting up a time for his coerced lesson, she really hoped to be able to tell him no thanks, that she'd already been taught.

She was looking forward to being able to ride, even feeling somewhat impatient about it. Being so isolated out on the ranch had a lot to do with it. Spencer's carriage might still be taking up space in the stable, since he'd left too late to take it back to town with him, but it wasn't there for her use even if she knew how to hitch it up and drive it. Walking anywhere was out of the question, too, not that there was anything nearby worth reaching.

But unlike her sister, Marian already had it pretty much set in her mind that Texas was going to be her home permanently, and by choice. There wasn't a single thing that she missed about Haverhill. There was really nothing there for her but bad memories, so she had no desire at all ever to return there, or anywhere else back East, for that matter. And she rather liked this part of the country, despite the heat.

The openness, the raw, untamed nature of the place, traveling for days without seeing any form of setde-ment, the friendliness of the people—well, discounting the lawless element. It could be frightening, but it was also exhilarating. You simply never knew what was going to happen next. People didn't just live here, they adapted, they did without, they helped each other. They survived.

Yes, she would stay here. And whether she ended up living in a town or a good day's ride away from one like Kathleen did, she wanted to learn the things that everyone else seemed to take for granted out here. Riding a horse was at the top of that list.

She'd even borrowed one of her aunt's odd-looking riding skirts, or rather, breeches for the task. Made out of rawhide leather, the garment was so loose and wide, it looked like a skirt if she were just standing about in it, but once mounted on a Western-style saddle, they were more obviously very baggy breeches.

She was disappointed to find the stable completely empty, at least of people. There were four horses in stalls there, two of them Spencer's, and several more in the corral next to the stable. She decided to get acquainted with the horses, as long as she was there, and tried coaxing one to her for petting. It just swished its tail and ignored her. She tried another, but got ignored again.

She was hesitant to get any closer, with the stalls so narrow and the memory clear in her mind of seeing a horse gone wild on the street when she was a child. With its bucking, kicking, and biting, that horse had injured five men who tried to get it under control before its enraged owner finally shot it. She'd heard someone say how stupid the fellow was, that it was his own ill treatment of the animal that had caused it to rebel. None of these animals looked mistreated, but still, a memory like that was hard to shake off.

"Bring a sweet with you next time if you want to get his attention."

Marian turned toward the front of the stable. With the verbal coaxing she'd been doing, she hadn't heard anyone approach. And with such bright daylight directly behind him, he was just a dark silhouette there in the doorway to the stable, sitting quiedy on his horse, his hat tipped down low. But she knew that voice, knew it very well. Her heart was already beginning to pick up speed.

"I was just introducing myself," she explained.

He chuckled, rode farther in until the glare from outside was no longer obscuring his features from her.

"That's fine, except, without an offering, they could care less—which you've probably noticed."

She grinned. "Yes, they've been trying to make me think I'm not really here."

"A treat or two, and they'll remember the sound of your voice and perk up whenever they hear it, which is why it's not a good idea to favor them all unless you want to fill your pockets with sweets. Just concentrate on the one you'll be riding for now."

"Which is?"

"None of these. There's a mare out in the corral, docile, perfect for a new rider. You ready to do this?"

It was rather obvious that she was, considering where he found her. And she wasn't going to get into another "you don't have to" argument with him about it.

So she replied, "If you aren't busy."

He nodded, dismounted. "I think Red has an old saddle still around, smaller than the standard ones kept for the hands, which should do you fine."

He disappeared into the tack room, came out loaded down with horse trappings. "Follow me," was all he said as he headed toward a side door that opened directly into the corral.

It was a two-tiered door, and the top half had already been open. She stood out of the way as he tossed a rope around the neck of one of the horses and led it inside to a stall. The other two horses both tried to follow. He let one do so, but closed the lower half of the door again on the mare. She gathered her lesson was going to take place out in the corral.

The mare she was to get acquainted with wasn't a very pretty horse. A splotchy gray, with tail and mane that might have been white at some point, but were stained a yellowish gray now. She wasn't as big as the other two horses had been, though, which made her ideal for the purpose—less distance to fall from.

Chad returned after a few moments and started picking up the gear he'd dumped on the ground. "Pay attention," he said without glancing at her. "In case you ever need to do this yourself. It's not likely you ever will, since there's usually at least one hand on the property who tends to the horses and stable."

"Where is he?"

"Sick today, or at least he was this morning when we rode out. Which is why I'm back."

Well, she should have known he hadn't come back for her. Actually, he'd probably been quite disappointed to see her there in the stable when he rode in, might even have thought she was waiting on him. How embarrassing. But he'd given no indication that he was being put to a bother, and he began explaining everything he was doing as he did it.

When he finished, he fell silent and surprised her by removing all the gear he'd just dressed the horse in and piling it back on the ground. "Now you try it."

A test. She hadn't expected that. And she hadn't been paying complete attention to what he'd done either, which was his fault, for making her stand so close to him to watch. It certainly didn't seem to bother him, being that close to her, but it had definitely bothered her.

She had managed to put that kiss he'd given her last night out of her mind. She would never have been able to get to sleep if she hadn't. And she'd had other things to think of this morning, thanks to her sister. But now, standing next to him, so close she could even smell him, she could think of nothing else.

He had drunk some wine with dinner last night. Not very much, but still, some people got more daring— or stupid—after imbibing. She avoided all forms of alcohol herself. It made her act silly. Amanda did, too, since she couldn't abide not being in complete control of all her faculties. But so many times she'd watched Amanda's beaus get overloud, obnoxious, even excessively amorous, to the point of trying to steal kisses in front of others, and simply because they had a low tolerance for alcohol.

She didn't think Chad had such a low tolerance, but the wine probably did account for his audacity in wanting to compare kisses last night. She really wished he hadn't been so bold though. He'd just been conducting a test, didn't even consider that he might be getting her hopes up—then dashing them so thoroughly.

He'd seen through her disguise! No one had ever done that before. Of course, he didn't know it was just a disguise. He thought she really needed the spectacles. But still, he'd seen beyond them and figured out that she and Amanda were twins. With that knowledge, it wasn't odd at all that he might begin to wonder which one of them he'd kissed that night by the campfire, especially when Amanda had so completely ignored him the next morning.

He could have just asked Marian to clear up his confusion. He should have asked, rather than tried to figure it out on his own by comparing kisses. She might even have owned up to it. There wouldn't have been any reason not to since he knew they were twins. He'd been right, but what if he'd been wrong? Did he even once consider that and what it would do to her? And to accuse her of pretending to be Amanda, as if she'd done it deliberately!

He probably didn't know what to think now, or maybe he was just relieved that he hadn't made a mistake and kissed the wrong sister to begin with. But thankfully, they'd both elected not to embarrass themselves any further by mentioning that kiss again. In fact, his behavior thus far today was as if it hadn't happened.

Which was fine with her, except, it did happen, and it had been so nice, so incredibly thrilling, her first real kiss, at least, the first one meant for her and not because she'd been mistaken for her sister. A comparison, yes, for the wrong reason, yes, but still hers. Both times had been wonderful, but last night there had been much more passion.

It was that passion she was remembering now. Coupled with the heady emotions he always stirred in her when he was near, it was no wonder she couldn't concentrate on the task at hand. She'd found herself staring at his lips, at the hands that had pulled her to him, at the way his hair curled around his neck, the way his shirt stretched over taut muscles as he moved about, things she shouldn't be looking at. But she couldn't seem to help it.

The test. What was first? The blanket. She picked it up, shook it out, twice, spread it over the mare's back, took longer than necessary smoothing out the wrinkles, straightening it, all the while trying to steady her breathing, which was getting quite erratic.

"She's not going to her first shindig," she heard him say with distinct impatience behind her. "It doesn't have to be perfect."

She nodded, kept her blush averted, reached for the saddle. It was heavier than it looked, though with a little straining, she lifted it off the ground. She was doubtful she could get it up on the mare's back though.

He must have guessed her thoughts because he said, "You'll probably have to swing it a bit first, get some momentum going to help."

She tried that, and ended up tossing it right over the mare's back. That got a chuckle out of Chad. He even moved around the docile mare to retrieve the saddle, brought it back to her in one hand.

"At least you know you can lift it now," he commented, some humor still in his tone. "Try not to let go of it this time so you can stop it from sliding over. And don't hit her with it. Horses don't like saddles to begin with, but they really don't like having one thrown at them."

Was he teasing? Probably not. And he was going to make her do it again, when he'd already conceded that it was something she'd probably never have to do on her own. This part of the lesson was a "just in case' part. Or was it his way of getting even for having to teach her? Now that she could believe, and it made her stiffen her spine, determined to get the mare saddled if it killed her.

It took two more tries. When the saddle finally landed where it was supposed to, Marian's smile of accomplishment was brilliant. His was genuine, which made her castigate herself for attributing to him petty motives he didn't have.

Her breathing was even more labored by then. She'd worked up a sweat with her exertions. But that had nothing to do with why she started trembling when he touched her to turn her back toward the saddle, which still needed to be strapped on.

He must have felt her quivering flesh. He couldn't help but hear the heavy breathing, might even be able to hear her heartbeat, it was so loud.

He drew in his own breath, released her like a hot brand, said sharply, "Don't do that."

Like I can help it, she wanted to growl. But she moved away from him, took several deep breaths. It didn't help. Something had been stirred up inside her that wouldn't be quelled.

And then she heard in an angry undertone, "Damn, you couldn't get more explicit with an invitation if you tried. Do I look like I'm made of stone?" just before he dragged her back into the stable.