Against the Rules (11 page)

Ricky arched an eyebrow at her. “Why are you awake so early?” she asked snidely.

“I woke her up,” said Rule curtly. “She's going with me today.”

Ricky's pretty face pulled into a scowl. “But
I
was planning on going with you again!”

“You can go where you want,” Rule said without looking up from his coffee. “Cat's going with me.”

Cathryn stared at him, troubled by the way he casually brushed Ricky aside, when only the day before they had been laughing together as they unloaded the truck. A quick glance at Ricky revealed a quivering bottom lip that had been bitten and conquered.

Lorna slid filled plates before them, drawing everyone's attention to their food, for which Cathryn was grateful. Rule ate with his usual hearty appetite, though Cathryn and Ricky did little more than pick at their food, at least until Rule looked up and frowned when he saw Cathryn's full plate. “You didn't eat last night,” he said pointedly. “You'll eat that if I have to feed it to you myself.”

Delightful visions of egg dripping down his face danced with wicked temptation in Cathryn's mind, but she reluctantly turned them away. Hurriedly she gulped her breakfast, drained her cup and jumped to her feet. Kicking his ankle, she snapped, “Hurry it up! What's taking you so long?”

Behind her she heard Lorna quickly stifle a chuckle. Rule rose to his feet and clamped his fingers around her wrist, dragging her in his wake. He paused at the back door to jam his battered black hat on his head, then grabbed up another one, which he pushed onto Cathryn's head. She knocked at it and said sulkily, “This isn't my hat.”

“Tough,” he muttered as he hauled her across the yard to the stable.

Cathryn dug her heels in every inch of the way, pulling back on her wrist and trying to twist her arm out of his grasp. When that failed she tried to trip him, managing once to send him stumbling, but she didn't accomplish much, since he retained his grip on her and she had to stumble after him. The thought came fleetingly that it was becoming commonplace for him to drag her across the yard, and she wondered what the ranch hands thought of it. The mental picture of grinning male faces gave her the strength to liberate her wrist with a violent twist. “Stop dragging me around!” she snapped when he whirled to face her, his expression thunderous. “I'm not a dog to be dragged around on the end of a chain!”

“Right now I think a chain would do you good,” he snarled softly. “You damned little redheaded wildcat! You refuse to let me touch you, but everything you do is a dare to me. I never had you pegged for a tease, honey, but you could have changed while you were away.”

Aghast, Cathryn stared at him. “I'm not teasing you!”

“Does that mean you're serious when you give me the come-on?”

“I'm not giving you any such thing!” she denied hotly. “Just look at the way you've acted this morning—and yesterday, too! Yet you expect everything to be roses. I'm angry with you...no, make that furious. Enraged. Am I getting through to you?”

He looked astounded. “Just what have I done now?”

Out of the corner of her eye Cathryn saw Lewis Stovall leaning negligently against the stable door and almost grinning, which probably meant that he found it all highly amusing. She sniffed and evaded Rule's question by saying, “It's time we got started,” and walking around him to the stable.

Only the presence of Lewis and several of the other hands kept Rule under control, she was certain. She saddled her own horse, choosing the gray gelding she had ridden her first day home. When Rule was mounted on his big chestnut he led the way across the pastures, and looking at the set of his broad shoulders, Cathryn knew that he hadn't forgotten the subject of their earlier conversation. Just let him bring it up! she thought fiercely. She had a few things to tell Mr. Rule Jackson!

CHAPTER 6

He waited only until they were out of the others' hearing before he kneed his horse close beside hers and said with dangerous calm, “You'd better have a good explanation.”

Cathryn gave him a fierce, narrow-eyed stare. “The same goes for you,” she fired back. “For instance, why were you kissing and hugging with Ricky yesterday afternoon, but this morning you treated her like dirt? Was it an act for my benefit?”

Sudden amusement lit his dark eyes. “Ricky's never done anything for your benefit.”

“Stop playing games with me, damn it!” she said furiously. “You know what I mean.”

“You're jealous,” he drawled, looking so pleased with himself that Cathryn almost exploded with anger.

“I am not!” she yelled. “You can run around with every woman in Texas for all I care! I want to know why you were so friendly with her yesterday but treated her like a stray hound this morning. The rumor in town is that you're sleeping with Ricky.” She felt sick even saying the words, and her hand tightened on the reins, making the gray dance and shake his head.

“Oh, you care, all right,” he replied. “Why else have you been throwing such a tantrum this morning?”

Cathryn ignored the provocation of that remark, no longer able to avoid asking him straight out. “Have you ever made love to Ricky?” she asked in a harsh voice; then she had to swallow a sudden surge of nausea. What would she do if he admitted it, when the very thought of him touching another woman made her feel sick? She wouldn't be able to bear it.

“No,” he said easily, totally unaware that her very sanity hinged on his answer. “But not for lack of opportunity. Does that answer your question? Or do you have something else you want to accuse me of? Surely there's some woman left in the county who you've managed not to suspect me of messing around with.”

She almost flinched from his sarcasm. Rule didn't usually argue, but when he did he had a deadly tongue. Her dark eyes were huge and miserable as she stared at him. “Ricky's in love with you,” she said. She hadn't wanted to tell him, though on reflection she was certain that he knew it. Ricky wasn't a subtle woman.

He snorted. “Ricky doesn't love anyone but herself. She goes from man to man the way a butterfly tries all the flowers. But why should you care who warms my bed? You don't want to share it. You even told me to take myself elsewhere when I needed sex.”

Cathryn's throat closed and she stared at him helplessly. Was he so blind? Couldn't he see that every inch of her ached for him? But thank God that he didn't see, because if he knew how she felt she would never be able to control him...or herself. She wanted to be sure of him; she wanted to trust him before she became so deeply involved with him that she had no self-protection left, yet she felt pressured from all sides to throw caution to the winds. If she didn't claim him, Ricky would; if she didn't satisfy him sexually, someone else would.

He reined in his horse and leaned across to grasp her reins, stopping the gray. “Look,” he said directly, his dark eyes unreadable in the shadow of his black hat. “I need sex. I'm a normal, healthy man. But I control my needs, they don't control me. I don't want Ricky. I want you. I'll wait...for a while.”

Sudden fury gave her back her voice and she pushed his hand away from her reins. “And then what?” she spat. “Will you go roaming like a tomcat?”

He moved swiftly, his gloved hand darting out and catching her by the back of the neck. “I won't have to roam,” he crooned on a dangerously silky note. “I know exactly where your bedroom is.” She opened her mouth to yell at him and he leaned over, catching the hot words with his mouth as he brought her closer to him, the steely hand on her neck holding her just where he wanted her.

Cathryn shuddered with hot, soft reaction, her lips shaping themselves to the movement of his, tasting the coffee flavor of his mouth, as she allowed his tongue entrance. His free hand squeezed gently on her breasts, then began to trace a wandering path down her stomach. She was helpless to stop him, not even thinking of stopping him, her body waiting pliantly for his intimate touch. But his horse took exception to the situation and danced away from the gelding, forcing Rule to release her and secure his seat again. He quieted the stallion with a murmur, but his eyes seared her with dark fire. “Don't take too long making up your mind,” he advised softly. “We're wasting a lot of time.”

She watched in helpless confusion as he rode away from her, his tall body moving in perfect rhythm with the powerful horse. She didn't know what to do anymore. She thought of going back to the house, but the memory of how lost and miserable she had been the day before sent her riding after Rule. At least when she was with him she was able to look at him, to secretly savor the thrill she got whenever she saw him. The need she felt for him was so strong that it was almost an obsession, an illness. It had kept him constantly in her thoughts even though they were separated by years and hundreds of miles, and now that he was so close she was driven by the compulsion to watch him.

For the remainder of the week she rode by his side, taking every step he took, riding endless miles until she ached in every muscle and every bone. Yet a combination of pride and stubbornness kept her from either complaining or giving up. She was well aware that he knew the discomfort she suffered. Too often she caught a gleam of amusement in his dark eyes. But Cathryn wasn't a complainer, so she bore it all silently and every night took comfort from the bottle of liniment that had become a fixture on her nightstand. She could have remained at the house, but that had no attraction at all for her. Riding with Rule had its rewards, despite the physical punishment she was taking, because she had the delight of secretly feasting her eyes on him all day long.

In any case, she became absorbed in the grinding routine that was part of every day on the ranch. After her one trip to pick up supplies, Rule didn't suggest again that Cathryn run any errands for him. He rolled her out of bed every morning before dawn, and by the time the first gray light had appeared they were in the saddle. If he rode fence, she rode fence; if he moved horses from one pasture to another, so did she. Rule turned his hand to every chore on the ranch, disdaining nothing, and she realized more fully than ever before why he had the respect and uncomplaining obedience of every man who worked there.

She was astounded at his stamina. She did none of the physical work that he did, merely followed in his tracks, and by the end of the day she was so tired that she could scarcely stay in the saddle on the ride back to the house. But Rule's shoulders were as straight at the end of the day as they had been at the beginning, and she often saw the admiring, respectful looks that the men gave him. He wasn't a straw boss. He did everything he asked the men to do, and in addition he oversaw the completion of everything else. Lewis Stovall was his right-hand man, almost sullenly quiet, but so capable that often Rule had only to nod his head in a certain direction and Lewis knew exactly what he wanted. Remembering her accusing words when she had discovered that Lewis was the foreman, she felt ashamed; even with Lewis's help, Rule still did the work of two men.

The horses were Rule's special concern, though in no way did he neglect any other aspect of the ranch. The horses were treated with intense care. No injury, regardless of how slight, was allowed to go untreated. No illness was ignored, and anything that concerned their comfort was done without question. He often exercised the stallions himself and the spirited animals were better behaved with him than with the other men entrusted with their exercise.

Cathryn would sit on the fence and watch him with the stallions, almost dying with envy because she wanted to ride one of the beautiful animals so much, but Rule adamantly refused to let her near them. Though she sulked, she accepted his edict because she knew how valuable they were, and she admitted that if one of them decided not to obey her, she wasn't strong enough to force her will on him. The stallions were always kept carefully separated from each other and never exercised at the same time, not only to prevent fights but to keep them calm. A rival in the vicinity upset the blooded stallions even if things didn't progress to a fight.

Rule reminded her of his stallions; but he behaved himself scrupulously during those days, not even stealing a kiss, though she sometimes caught his gaze lingering on her lips or the thrust of her breasts against the cotton shirts she wore. Though she knew that he was waiting to hear her decision, she didn't even try to make up her mind during those days; she was having fun, and in addition to that she was so tired at the end of the day that she didn't feel like indulging in any soul searching. She was doing exactly what she had wanted: being with him, learning him. But Rule was far too complicated for only a few days to give her any insight into him.

The breeding pens were also off limits to her, another edict she didn't argue with. Though Ricky was apparently completely at ease there, for once Cathryn wasn't jealous of her. Even if Rule didn't care to protect Ricky, he did extend that care to Cathryn, and she was glad. She was too sensitive, too attuned to Rule's sensuality, to be comfortable with the actual breeding. So one day while Rule was occupied in the pens she returned to the house for a rare hour of relaxation. But after sitting for a few minutes feeling her aching muscles slowly unknot, she began to feel guilty for doing nothing while Rule was still working. Then the happy thought that she could relieve him of some of the paperwork occurred to her and she made herself comfortable in the study. After a rapid look though the stacks of correspondence and bills that littered the desk, she realized that he was surprisingly well organized. All of the bills were current. But then, how else would it be? Rule was efficient in everything he did. Only the past couple of days' worth of mail hadn't been opened, but he had been working late and hadn't had a chance to catch up on the paperwork. Satisfied with her choice of occupations, Cathryn sorted the mail into a stack that was addressed to Rule personally, and another stack of bills, which was gratifyingly small, proof that the ranch was on solid ground.

Swiftly she opened the bills and studied them: bills for grain; bills for fencing; utility bills; bills for the mountain of supplies that were needed to keep the ranch running; veterinary bills that seemed astronomical to her. Apprehensive again, she opened the ledger and pulled it to her, wondering if there would be enough to pay these bills and still have enough for the ranch hands' salaries. Her finger moved to the balance column and ran down it to the last figure.

Stunned, she stared at it for a full minute, unable to believe her eyes. Was the ranch doing that well? She had somehow gotten the impression that the ranch was solid but not rich, able to provide a good living but not a luxurious one. How could she reconcile that idea with the figure that stared her in the face, that figure written in Rule's bold, slashing hand? If all the profits were turned back into the operation, what accounted for this?

A sudden chill raced down her spine and she flipped through the bills again. Why hadn't she noticed the first time? Why hadn't she picked up on the hint that she had received in town? Every one of those bills was in Rule Jackson's name. Knowing what she would find, she hunted for the checkbook and instead found a ledger of checks, all of them bearing the name Rule Jackson, and beneath that the legend: Bar D Ranch.

All of that proved nothing, she told herself sternly. Of course his name was on the checks. He signed them, didn't he? Yet she got up and went in search of Monica, who had been trustee until Cathryn reached her twenty-fifth birthday, and whose name should have been on those checks.

“Oh, that,” said Monica in a bored tone, waving her hand. “I signed control of the ranch over to Rule years ago. Why not? As he pointed out, he was just wasting time by having to come to me for decisions.”

“You should have told me!” Cathryn said sharply.

“For what reason?” Monica demanded just as sharply. “You were going away to college, so you weren't going to be here anyway. If you were all that concerned, why did you wait until now to come home?”

Cathryn couldn't tell her that; instead she returned to the study and sat down heavily, trying to get it straight in her mind. So Rule had had direct control of the ranch and her money for all of these years. Why did that alarm her? She knew he hadn't cheated her. Every cent would be accounted for. She simply felt betrayed in some way that she hadn't yet figured out.

If Monica had signed control over to Rule before Cathryn had gone away to college, it had to have been during that summer when she was seventeen. She had decided to attend college at the last minute, torn between the agony of leaving her home and the almost uncontrollable fear she'd had of Rule. Having always considered that sexual scene by the river to be her fault, she had been afraid of her own body and the way it responded to him. But now...had he made love to her deliberately? He had already had control of the ranch, but he would have known that it was only a temporary control and could come to an abrupt halt when she came of age. The next logical move was to bring her under his control, too, to dominate her so completely that she would never try to wrest the ranch away from him.

She didn't want to think that. She felt sick, distrusting him so much when he had worked so hard. But, damn it, it wasn't just the ranch that she was concerned with! She had herself to think of! Was she letting herself fall for a man who saw her only as a means to an end, a way of finally making the ranch really, completely his? He knew her better than any other person on earth knew her. He knew that he could control her with his sensual magic. No wonder her demand that he stay away from her had rattled him so badly! She had really thrown his plans off!

Taking a deep breath, Cathryn tried to halt the wild thoughts that were circling madly in her mind. She couldn't be certain of that. She had to give him the benefit of the doubt, at least for now. If only she knew what went on in his head! If only he would talk to her, tell her if the ranch was more important to him than anything else. She would understand. Rule had gone through hell, and she couldn't blame him if the ranch had become a sanctuary that he wanted to cling to. The idea was incongruous in a way. He was so strong. Why would he need a sanctuary? But he wouldn't talk about what he had experienced, wouldn't let anyone else share that burden with him, so she really had no idea what he felt about the ranch or anything else.