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.
Chapter 28
THE LESSON WASN’T OVER as Marian had at first thought. It was just beginning. It just no longer had anything to do with horses. But she didn’t know that when Chad pulled her back into the much cooler stable.
She couldn’t see anything for a moment, the quick transition from such bright sunshine outside to the shadowed interior made the stable seem darker than it was. But by the time her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she found herself lying on a pile of hay in one of the empty stalls, Chad’s body half-covering hers, his mouth preventing any protests, not that she thought to make any.
She was too dazed. It had happened too quickly. And she wasn’t even sure why. What he’d muttered about invitations and stone didn’t make much sense to her. That he was kissing her again didn’t either. They had agreed the kiss last night was a mistake, at least, she’d assumed they had. And he hadn’t been drinking this time. So she was running out of reasons to explain why he’d want to kiss her.
He was doing more than that. She didn’t realize it at first, his kiss was so consuming. But when his hand covered her breast, the abnormal heat from it was the first clue that there was no longer a cloth barrier between them. Her shirt was unbuttoned, her camisole pulled down.
Panic was her immediate reaction, that she was half-naked somewhere other than in the privacy of her bedroom. She managed to break the kiss off for a moment, and gasped out, “What if someone comes in here?”
“Do you care? I don’t.”
She had to think about that. How could she think when he was still caressing her breast? Actually, if he stopped right now, she’d probably cry. And no one was likely to intrude at this time of the day. No, she didn’t care either. If someone did show up, she would worry about it then.
She let him find her mouth again. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her silent answer. His kiss got more ravenous, his tongue exploring deeply. She was losing all thought again, caught up in a tide of turbulent sensations far beyond her meager experience.
His caresses became more bold, slightly rough, his breathing as ragged as hers. She had a feeling he was caught up in his own passion. She hoped he had more control of it than she did.
His mouth moved lower, sucked on her neck. It tickled, it fired her blood, made her want to curl around him. Lower still and his lips surrounded her breast. She
knew his mouth wasn’t that hot, yet she felt scorched there, was afraid he was trying to fit the entire mound in his mouth. Impossible, her breasts weren’t that small, yet it didn’t seem as if he was going to give up trying.
The sensations were getting deeper. Vaguely, she felt him fighting with her skirt, realized he wanted it off. He was having no luck, so he tried a different route.
“There should be a law against women wearing breeches,” he growled, when his hand couldn’t get very far up from the bottom of the loose riding skirt.
She felt like laughing. She surprised herself by giving in to the urge, then teased in a prim tone, “Did you really want to get naked in a stable, on a pile of hay?”
“Use your imagination. I know you’ve got a good one. Imagine you’re lying on silk.”
“Was that a yes?”
He laughed now, a great burst of laughter. He rolled over, pulled her with him, positioned her so she was sitting across his waist, her knees bent at his sides, just about all of her within reach of his hands. He made quick work of getting rid of her shirt, spread it out on the hay next to them. Her camisole was pulled over her head. That, too, became part of the blanket he was fashioning on top of the hay.
The lifting of the camisole dislodged her spectacles, though, which she fixed automatically from habit. But he reached for those, too. Her reaction to that was also automatic. She leaned back, avoiding his reach.
“Take them off,” he said simply.
“No.”
He started to frown, but her breasts distracted him. His hands covered them both now, kneading them. Her head dropped back with a moan she couldn’t contain. With her legs straddling him, she was feeling a new heat now, deep in her core.
“Stand up, where you are,” he said, his voice more husky than usual.
She didn’t want to lose the touch of his hands, but she could find no reason to deny him this time. She wasn’t sure she could stand up, though, because she was trembling. She managed it, but looking down at him as he began to slowly unbutton his shirt, her knees nearly buckled.
“Let your hair down,” he ordered next.
She complied immediately, pulled out a few pins, shook her head, and the whole golden mass came tumbling down her back, over her shoulders, curled about her waist.
“I knew it would be that long—and beautiful. No more buns for you. If I see you wearing another bun, I’ll personally steal all your hairpins.”
She grinned at the thought of him sneaking into her bedroom to steal hairpins. Actually, if she happened to be in it at the time...
“Unfasten that contraption you’re wearing so I can get rid of it.”
She sucked in her breath again since he happened to be unfastening his pants as he said it. It took a really long moment for her to think clearly enough to realize the “contraption” he meant was her skirt. She fumbled with it, her fingers trembling even more. And he did yank the skirt down the second he saw it loosen.
He sat up then, tore out of his shirt, barely sparing a moment to add it to the improvised blanket. He pressed his cheek against her lower belly and put his arms around her. His hands slid up her back, then slowly down, over her hips, then lower, taking her bloomers with them.
Though the air wasn’t stirring in the confines of the closed stall, she felt a slight chill, standing there like that, but only for a moment. His breath was hot on her belly, his chest warm against her thighs. He was gently lifting one of her legs to unlock them from her remaining clothes. Her hands went to his head, her fingers sliding through his hair. Baby-fine soft it was, the touch giving her such pleasure, she realized she’d wanted to do that ever since she’d met him.
When he lifted her other leg, she lost her balance and slid down him until her knees touched the ground on either side of him again. The hand he’d placed behind her head pulled her lips back to his. And while kissing her, he somehow managed to get her boots off as well.
The next thing she knew, she was being laid down on the improvised blanket, and he was grinning down at her as he asked, “It’s silk, right?”
She would have said absolutely, would have agreed with anything at the moment, for that matter, but she couldn’t find her voice. He looked so boyish with that grin, so handsome, she felt a swirling sensation in her belly that made her feel faint. And he must have sensed what she was feeling because his expression turned so sensual she caught her breath.
His mouth was back on her, and his hands, infinitely gentle as they caressed her bare skin, exploring what couldn’t be reached before. She questioned nothing he did, just accepted the pleasure of his touch and tried to concentrate on each moment, each new sensation so that she would always remember it. But it was happening so quickly, and she was so caught up in the passions he stirred in her, if she remembered anything at all it would be the heat, the craving, and her amazement that it was even happening.
He stopped kissing her so that he could watch her as his hand trailed down her body. His look was filled with awe, or was it her imagination? But he did seem overly taken with the sight of her bared limbs, or maybe just surprised, since the clothes she tended to wear gave no clue that she was as shapely as she was. Either way, she was amazed she wasn’t embarrassed, to have him looking at her like that. Well—maybe just a little.
His hand continued to move down her thigh, then slid up the inner side of it, and stopped at the junction. She gasped, which brought his mouth back to hers. But it wasn’t that gasp he tried to catch, it was the ones he knew would follow when his fingers delved into her. Her nerves leapt in pleasant shock, arching her body toward him, spasms she had no control of. His body moved closer to absorb them, was suddenly settled completely over her, and before she guessed why, he was entering her.
The pain was sharp, but gone so quickly, she’d have no clear memory of it. Feeling him fill her, though, and so deeply, made up for it, bringing her a pleasure she never could have imagined. He did no more than that for the longest moment, was giving her time to adjust, time she didn’t really need. When he began to move in her finally, she was more than ready. He was still trying to soothe her though. While he rested one arm behind her neck, he slid his other hand up her cheek, over her ear, into her hair—catching on her spectacles and taking them off her.
She was sure he’d done it deliberately, though maybe not. His look of surprise could have been due to his having the spectacles in his fingers. But he was staring at her face, both of them completely still. He knew she was Amanda’s twin, he’d admitted that, and yet she felt more naked without the spectacles than she did without her clothes.
“Can you see me at all without these?” he asked her.
“Yes.”
“Good, because I want you to see how much I’m enjoying this.”
The tone was husky, but the words affected her amazingly, removing all her shyness and reminding her that he was still deep inside her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and said just as huskily, “Then what are you waiting for?”
He caught his breath, but then frowned for a moment in confusion, “Amanda?”
Marian didn’t answer, was too distracted at that point to think. He was thrusting deeply into her, again and again, and within moments, it carried her right over the edge into the most sublime ecstasy of her experience, a pleasure that continued to flow through her until he received his own several moments later.
They were both still again, breathing slowly returning to normal. Marian held off her thoughts as long as she could, trying to savor what would undoubtedly be a unique experience, never to happen again—with him. Marian felt anger welling up in her and sensed Chad might be feeling the same way. He seemed in no hurry to address it either. Yet simmering there between them was the notion that he thought she was Amanda. And he’d made love to her anyway.
He leaned back. He stared down at her for the longest moment. Now, without realizing it, she was glaring up at him. But before either of them could say anything, they heard a voice near the front
of the stable.
“You here yet, Chad? Horses need feeding—well, hell, looks like I’ll have to ...”
The mumbling stopped. It was the sick cowhand, worried about the animals. Chad swore beneath his breath when the cowhand added, “Oh, didn’t see you there, Lonny.”
Chad whispered as he grabbed his clothes and donned them quicker than he’d removed them, “Get dressed while I get rid of them. We’ll talk about this later.”
Later? If she saw him later, she just might shoot him—well, after she got some lessons on shooting.
Chapter 29
CHAD DIDN’T NEED TO ask Lonny if he’d heard anything in the stable. The grin Lonny was wearing was easy enough to decipher. He sent the cowhand back to bed and urged Lonny outside. They stopped halfway between the stable and the bunkhouse.
“What are you doing back here?” Chad asked.
“The same thing you are—well, maybe not.”
Lonny’s grin turned into a chuckle that really grated.
“Whatever you heard, keep it to yourself.”
“Of course,” Lonny replied. “But I’ve got to say, you are one lucky son of a bitch. Don’t think I’ve ever seen a gal as pretty as that Amanda is.”
“Wait a minute. Not that it’s any of your business, but I was with Marian.”
“No way. Marians too prim and—and—”
“Spinsterish?”
“Well, yes, now that you mention it. Besides, I heard you call her Amanda.”
Chad sighed. “That was a mistake. Just for a brief moment I had some doubt, but I didn’t mean to voice it aloud.”
“You’re saying you couldn’t tell them apart? It wasn’t that dark in there, and those two are nothing alike.”
“In behavior, no, they aren’t, which is what confused me for a moment. But in looks, they’re identical, Lonny. Twins.”
“Yeah, right,” Lonny scoffed.
Marian took that moment to rush out of the stable, without noticing them off to the side. Her long blond hair was floating about her, the cuffs on her sleeves unbuttoned, her short boots held one in each hand. There was something distinctly sexy about her looking so disheveled—and mad. She definitely looked mad. But then he hadn’t missed that glower she’d given him. She obviously hadn’t missed him calling her Amanda.