Broddock-Black 05 - Force of Nature (13 page)

❧

Jo’s bay took the fence with a hunter’s spring, clearing the top wire with a foot to spare. But the moment she landed on Flynn’s land, three riders, one of them an Indian, appeared seemingly out of nowhere and she realized Howard knew of what he spoke. Flynn didn’t take kindly to strangers.

“Lookin for someone, ma’am?” It wasn’t a polite question and the rifle the man speaking had trained on her was cocked.

“Yes, I am,” she replied, careful to use a courteous tone, conscious of the precariousness of her position. “Mr. Ito is a friend of mine.”

“He prefers ladies wait for an invitation,” the man said gruffly.

“I’ve come all the way from Helena today. I’m sure if you asked him, he’d want to see me.”

The moon was so bright, she could see the three men’s eyes as they appraised her, and she caught no glimpse of benevolence.

“I met Mr. Ito at Stewart Warner’s dinner,” she went on in explanation, feeling a need to breach the uncompromising silence.

The man with the rifle nodded. “Could be.”

“He told me about the fire.” Three glances narrowed and she realized she may have made a mistake. They were contemplating whether she was a spy for the Empire. “Please, I’ve been on the road all day. Ask Flynn if he knows me. If he doesn’t, let him decide what to do.”

The lengthy silence was broken only by the swish of the horses’ tails, the men’s scrutiny unwavering.

“You have to give up your weapons,” the leader finally said. It was a brusque, curt command augmented by three rifles held high and directed at her head.

She quickly complied, handing over her Colt that hung from the gun belt on her saddle horn.

The man who had done the speaking motioned for her to fall in beside him and they all rode in silence toward the lights.

When they reached the ranch house, the men dismounted and signaled her to do the same. Without speaking, they indicated she follow them as they ascended a short flight of steps leading onto a porch that stretched the length of the facade. With the shadowed porch and sense of complete isolation, the heavily armed men crowded around her suddenly took on an ominous note.

As they came to a halt before a heavy timbered door, the leader knocked in a sharp staccato rhythm that may have been a signal.

The sound of boot heels crossing the floor echoed in the quiet of the night.

Jo’s heart began beating furiously. For the first time since she’d left Helena, she questioned the intelligence of her plan.

The door swung open slowly.

“This here lady says she knows you, boss.”

The light was behind him so Flynn’s face was in shadow, but his eyes gleamed with a sharp and lucid animosity. “She does, does she?”

His low growl came from deep in his throat; the harsh, disobliging tone so striking, one of the men immediately seized Jo’s arm and began dragging her away.

“Flynn! For God’s sake!” Jo cried, struggling to dislodge the man’s rough grip as he pulled her toward the stairs. “You can’t do this! Tell them you know me! Flynn, damn you, say something or my father will have your head!” she yelled, scrambling to secure whatever leverage she could against Flynn’s cold gaze.

“Let her go.” The words were without inflection.

“I should hope so,” she blustered, shaking off her captor’s hand, stalking back to the opened doorway and gazing up at Flynn with blazing eyes. “Who the hell do you think you are!”

“Someone a lot bigger than you,” he said in that same neutral tone.

“I’m not afraid of you!”

“You’re on my land and my porch—a helluva long way from Helena—and if you had half a brain, you’d have sense enough to shut the hell up.”

“I don’t have to shut up. For your information, I came up here to apologize, but believe me, I won’t now! In fact, I don’t ever want to see you again!” Spinning around, she began to stalk away.

She didn’t see the faint nod of Flynn’s head dismissing his men, no more than she heard his footsteps as he overtook her. But she heard his voice in her ear when he said, “You’ll get lost at night, you little bitch,” and she felt his hands close around her waist and lift her off her feet.

She was kicking and squirming and screaming at the top of her lungs as he carried her at arm’s length before him into the house. Once inside, he dropped her so abruptly, she gasped and waved her arms wildly trying to keep her balance.

Shutting the door, he stood quietly as she found her footing, waiting for her attack. But she brushed her hair back from her face instead and stomped her boots to shake down her riding skirt, a small cloud of dust settling on his carpet with her effort. Then she straightened her belt and shirt cuffs and collar as though it mattered what she looked like at one in the morning in the middle of nowhere. When she finally looked up, her gaze was cool. “I hope you’re more gracious to your other guests.”

“If I invite them, I am. No one invited you.”

“Nevertheless, I’m here.”

“So I see.”

“You needn’t be so rude.”

“Pardon, me, who was just screaming at me and trying to unman me with her boot heels?”

“I expected you to be more pleasant.”

“And I expected you to stay in Helena.”

She looked sheepish for a transient moment before changing her mind, her gaze altering before his eyes into her more familiar straightforward directness. “I felt I should come and apologize for arguing with you in Daisy’s office.”

“But you forgot about the apology,” he murmured sardonically. He knew why she’d come, but regardless she was tempting, she was damned inconvenient at the moment.

“You can be extremely irritating; you know that, don’t you?”

“If only you could have recalled my imperfections while you were still in Helena and sent me a note instead.”

“I won’t be in the way.”

“You’re already in the way.” He’d have to delay his attack while he sent her back and hope like hell the Empire didn’t strike in the interim.    

“I don’t know how you can say that. Your house is so large, you won’t even know I’m here.”

“Jesus, Jo, could you be any more naive? Yes, I’ll very much know you’re here because my cock is at full attention whenever you’re within ten miles. But my lust aside, this isn’t a good time. I told you that in Helena. The Empire might attack any moment. This isn’t a fucking game—it’s real life; people get hurt. I don’t want you to be one of them.”

“I’m sorry.”

“That doesn’t help,” he curtly said, trying to think of something other than the exquisite feel of her hot cunt closing around his cock. “I’m going to have to have you escorted home through a countryside crawling with my enemies which overrides about ten thousand sorrys.”

“Let me stay,” she said as if he’d not spoken. “You look tired.”

“I am. You still can’t stay.”

“I could help you sleep.”

He rolled his eyes. “I don’t think so.”

“I’ll be good.”

“I’m not interested in good women. Never have been. You’re going back.”

“Damn you, Flynn, stop being so boorish and rude. I’ve been on the road all day and half the night, I’m dead tired and all I want is a bath, something to eat and a soft bed to lie on.” Her bottom lip began to tremble and her eyes welled with tears. “And if you wish to continue to harangue me, you can do so in the morning.”

He tried not to be affected by her distress. He tried not to notice how beautiful she looked even through a layer of trail dust. He definitely tried to blot out any thoughts of her eager, hot-blooded passions. And if her tears hadn’t spilled over, he told himself, he might have succeeded. But they did or perhaps he wasn’t yet completely delusional about his ability to withstand her allure. “Don’t cry,” he murmured, reaching her in two swift strides. “Hush, darling,” he whispered, pulling her into his arms. “Everything’s going to be all right.”

The platitude echoed in his brain—jarring and ridiculous— but the lush feel of her effectively stilled his reservations and even the callous savagery of the world and their irreconcilable differences were eclipsed by the wave of happiness that engulfed him. And for those transient moments, he was able to forget what lay before him, what he had to do tomorrow or the next day, how she couldn’t be a part of his life in this perilous time.

Her cheek lay against his chest, her body melted into his and she held him tightly, as though the tenacity of her grip would ensure he stay. “Tell me you’re happy that I came,” she whispered, looking up at him with soulful eyes.

“How could I not,” he said softly.

“Then I can stay?” A plaintive, small query so out of character, the words stayed in her brain as though burned there with fire. But she waited for his answer, desperately waited, feeling as though her life depended on it.

When he didn’t reply, she said, “Please,” in a breathy little sob and he couldn’t refuse even while he knew he should.

“For tonight,” he consented, unable to send her away.

Understanding she daren’t ask for more, she said, “Thank you.”

He smiled for the first time since his return to his ranch. “You’re the pushiest little bitch I’ve ever met.”

“You like me anyway.”

He grinned. “Unfortunately, yes.”

“I know,” she said with a happy smile. “And I like you enough to travel all this way to hear you say disagreeable things to me.”

“We’ll call a truce tonight,” he whispered, dipping his head, brushing her lips with his in the lightest of kisses.

“I’ll take whatever I can get,” she breathed.

His smile was instant and very close. “I can help you there.”

“I rather thought you might. I expect a special reward for traveling so far.”

“How special?”

“All night special.”

He glanced at the clock, decided he could sleep some other time and said, hushed and low, “I just happen to have a night free.”

“Do we have a bedroom?” she inquired, playfully, surveying the room. “Although, in my current state of sexual deprivation, that couch will do.”

“It’s not big enough,” he replied with the practicality of a large man who also happened to have more in mind than a quick fuck.

“Ummm ... I like the sound of that.”

His grin was wicked. “Little tart.”

“Actually, a very dusty tart. Would a bath be out of the question?”

❧

A short time later, Jo was eating a roast beef sandwich Flynn had made for her since his cook was sleeping, a glass of wine was beside her on the small bench and she was watching him set out soap and small wooden tubs in his Japanese bathhouse. The building had been constructed over a natural hot springs, the weathered wood smooth as silk, the slatted floor and tub surround beautifully joined with an artisan’s eye for wood grain. A folding screen of glass overlooked a small walled garden, the early-spring flowers pale and fragrant in the moonlight.

“It’s beautiful,” she said. “We don’t have anything so gorgeous in Florence.”

“Bathing in Japan is steeped in tradition and ritual. It’s about entering quiet spaces, relaxing at the end of the day, cleansing one’s soul. Father was fortunate to find this hot spring. One reason, I suspect, he wanted this land.”

“This experience might turn out to be the highlight of my trip,” she said, smiling. “The tub looks large enough for—”

“Eight.”

“Don’t say that. I’m insanely jealous.” She doubted he’d bathed with seven men.

Communal bathing was normal in Japanese households, but he chose not to explain. And in honesty he couldn’t deny her assumption. “I’ve been told it holds eight,” he corrected, gallantly.

“That’s better. And I’ve been told you’re a virgin.”

His gaze flicked up and met hers in a flash of surprise. Then he dipped his head and said, soft as velvet, “Yes, ma’am.”

“How did that happen ... a handsome man like you?”

“There’s no women out here on the range, Miss Attenborough. At least, not until you arrived,” he added, softly.

It was astonishing how comforting a lie could be. “So you’ve never seen a nude woman.”

His mouth twitched, but he repressed his smile. “No, ma’am.”

“Would you like to?”

“Are you offering?” His sham modesty vanished, replaced by a hot fevered impatient glance.

“I might be,” she said, a tiny shiver racing up her spine.

“You have some reservations?”

His artless charm restored, he looked at her with such innocence, she wondered for a moment whether she’d imagined the heat in his eyes. “I wouldn’t want the others to know,” she replied, trying to assess his mood.

“My men?”

“Anyone. A woman has her reputation to consider.”

“You worry about that a lot, do you?”

“Are you being impertinent?”

“Just asking, ma’am.”

“If you must know, yes, I do. I worry about my reputation.” It took enormous self-control to suppress the comment that came to mind in light of their first meeting. “You can trust my discretion, ma’am,” he said instead.

“I’m glad to hear that, Mr.—”

“Flynn. Call me Flynn.”

“You don’t look Irish.”

“You don’t either.”

“Mr. Flynn, someone is going to have to teach you some manners.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am. We speak our mind out here.”

“A certain chivalry is required when conversing with a lady.”

“I see. Would you like more wine, ma’am?”

“Exactly. How quick you are, Mr. Flynn. And yes, I would.” He filled her glass and then stood before her as though waiting.

“Is there something you’d like to say?”

“The water’s about ready.”

“About?”

“If you’d like to undress, I meant.”

He spoke with a curiously tantalizing deference as though he were in fact sexually unawakened. “You’re very good,” she murmured, smiling.

“How would you know?” Enticing promise underscored his words.

“I will soon enough.”

“If I allow it.”

This time it was her eyes that widened in surprise. “Would you refuse me?”

He shrugged. “I might.”

“I can see why you’re a virgin, Mr. Flynn. You can be very disagreeable.”

“But not so disagreeable as to cause you to leave,” he murmured.

Jettisoning any further attempt at play, she gazed at him with resignation. “You really don’t want me here, do you?”

“Have I been obtuse somehow?” Each word was pointedly blunt.

Leaning back against the wall, she looked up at him from under the veil of her lashes, suddenly weary beyond measure of his resistance. “Must we continue to fight? Please, Flynn, when I’ve come so far?”

“You should have stayed in Helena.” Hard reality kept getting in the way of the most wishful fantasies.

“But I didn’t.”

“And I’m supposed to gracefully accept Jo Attenborough doing what she wants regardless of the consequences?”

“I’m sorry, truly I am.” She spoke very softly, unable to dredge up any more resentment, worn-out and disheartened. “I shouldn’t have come.”

She looked so forlorn, a small voice inside his head, said, “The hell with reality.” And in his heart of hearts where logic didn’t prevail, where the Empire wasn’t out for his blood, he wanted her to stay. For a moment more, the rational part of his brain held back the tidal wave of emotion flooding his senses, sexual desire rampant in the forefront. And then he gave in, or perhaps he’d already done so when he’d carried her into his home. “Does that mean we’re done playing?” he lightly teased—to hell with reality.

She nodded, glumly. “You’re not as much fun as I remembered.”

He laughed. “Then I should apologize, surely.”

“Damn right you should.” But her tone was quiet and low rather than explosive, her eyelids heavy with sleep.

He glanced at the steaming tub, at his house guest about to give way to slumber. “Are you going to stay awake long enough to bathe?”

“No.” A barely audible sound.

“I must be losing my touch,” he drolly noted.

But she didn’t hear him because she’d dozed off. Fortunately his reflexes were wide awake because it required quicksilver speed to catch her as she fell from the bench. Swinging her up into his arms, he marveled at the sudden joy flooding his senses at so simple an act as holding her. He’d spent a lifetime studying kendo, the way of the sword, living a warrior’s life, cultivating the discipline and vigilant skills that maintained his freedom and protected his land. And now for this, for this moment of tenderness, for the caress of this woman, he was willing to overlook the army poised to destroy him. Calling himself every kind of fool, he shook his head as though to dislodge the rash feelings she evoked. But she suddenly opened her eyes, smiled at him and threw her arms around his neck. Before he could return her smile, she was fast asleep again and he was left reeling.

He knew lust and this wasn’t it.

This was terrifying.

But it was also so glorious, he felt invincible.

Which might be useful under the circumstances, he thought derisively.