A Tradition of Pride Page 8

  "You must sleep in a very cold bed, Mrs. Cochran." His voice laughed at her as he slowly straightened.

  Lara tipped her head back, the overhead light flaming over her hair at the new angle. Boldly she met his challenging look, not intimidated by his superior height as he towered before her.

  "And your bed—what's it like, Mr. MacQuade?" she jeered with a freezing scorn.

  A wicked gleam danced in his brown eyes with seductive overtones. "Would you like to find out?"

  "That's a typical male response," she laughed abruptly. "You men are so convinced that you are great lovers that you never realize how miserably you fail."

  "And you feel your husband failed?" Rans inquired, a brow quirking.

  "Miserably," Lara answered evenly.

  "The solution is simple. Get a divorce instead of prolonging the cold war."

  Pride drew her up another inch. "Alexanders don't get divorces, Mr. MacQuade," she informed him.

  "Another tradition of long-standing," he mocked. "And so they lived miserably ever after." He eyed her cynically. "An Alexander makes a wrong decision, and he lives with it the rest of his life without a second chance, a martyr to tradition."

  "I'm not interested in a second chance, as you put it, once is enough for me," Lara declared loftily, the tip of her nose tilting slightly upward in disdain.

  "So you remain married, drifting into a series of bitter affairs," Rans concluded with a taunting curl of his lip.

  "I'll leave the affairs to Trevor. He already has the experience." Bitterness coated her tongue.

  "While you hold yourself aloof from the animal desires that plague the rest of mankind. What a waste of such womanly beauty."

  His sarcastically thoughtful gaze held hers, blinding her to the movement of his hand as it reached up to touch the smoothness of her cheek at his last comment. Quickly she pushed his hand away as if his fingertips had burned her skin.

  "Don't touch me!" she snapped.

  "I had forgotten," Rans chuckled in amusement. "You don't want a man's hands on you, do you?" He reminded Lara that he had witnessed the scene between her and Trevor. "Are you afraid you might like it?"

  "Never!" Lara hissed.

  The sun lines at the corners of his eyes crinkled at her defiant challenge.

  "Never?" he murmured mockingly.

  He took a step toward her. Feeling menaced, Lara swung the curry rake at his face. His fingers closed over her wrist, twisting it until she was forced to drop her weapon. With a jerk she was pulled against his chest, his arms sliding around her waist. She wedged a breathing space with her elbows.

  "You are a vengeful little spitfire," Rans laughed huskily.

  "Let me go!" Lara glared at him coldly.

  She had learned in the orchard that it was useless to struggle against his superior strength. She did not intend to demean herself by trying the same tactic again.

  He seemed content to hold her captive and examine the smoldering temper in her expression. "A friend asked me once to break a bad-tempered filly he had. The secret was that she needed a lot of handling sometimes with gentle roughness to remind her who was boss. Mostly she had to learn that a man's touch really wasn't so bad," he mused softly.

  "I am not a filly," she retorted, cowardly frightened by the dark glint in his eyes. "Let me go."

  Rans merely smiled, lean dimples appearing in the tanned cheeks. Lara breathed in sharply as his hands moved suggestively along the sides of her waist inches from the swell of her breasts. A breathing space was forgotten, her own hands moving to intercept his, frantically pushing them away from his objective.

  "You don't like that?" he murmured. A hand left her waist to move to the back of her head. "I don't suppose you like it when a man runs his fingers though your hair, either."

  This time he didn't allow her to deter him from his objective. The tortoise-shell clasp was unsnapped and tossed to the floor. He raked his fingers through the silken fire of her hair, sending it cascading around her shoulders and neck like molten lava.

  Its release removed the valve of her temper. No matter how useless it might be, Lara struggled, twisting and turning, trying to elude his exploring hands. All the while his silent laughter mocked her efforts. Finally she started to bring her knee up, but he blocked her attack by knocking her other leg from beneath her. She fell heavily against him, momentarily knocking him off balance.

  In that split second she twisted free.

  Chapter Six

  BREATHING HEAVILY, Lara backed away warily. Rans was between her and the door. With the swiftness of his reflexes, there wasn't a chance that she could run by him and escape. He made no move toward her, standing there with his hands resting on his hips, dimples carved by the arrogant smile, brown eyes glittering brightly as they swept knowingly over her.

  Rumpled red gold hair fell loosely around her shoulders in alluring disarray. The top two buttons of her blouse had come undone during the struggle, gaping the front to reveal the curving swell of her breasts, rising and falling in agitated breathing.

  The composed mask was gone from her face. A becoming pink shade rouged her cheekbones. Her widened eyes were a turbulent green, guardedly alert to the slightest movement by Rans. Nervously Lara moistened her lips, which had become dry with fear.

  "Get out of here." Her voice quivered and Rans laughed lowly at the weakness of her command.

  A retreating foot nudged an object behind her. Lara knew she must be close to the stable wall. She let her gaze leave Rans for the split second it took to glance over her shoulder. A pitchfork was leaning against the wall. Before the thought was formed in her mind, she was grabbing it, pointing the pronged ends at Rans.

  "Get out of here," she ordered, more certain now with a weapon in her hands that she was able to defend herself.

  The amusement faded from his smile, although the smiling expression remained on his rough features. His eyes narrowed with measuring thoughtfulness. There was a faint tensing of his previously relaxed and mocking attitude.

  With a flash of intuition, Lara realized she had made a mistake. Rans had never intended to try to recapture her as she had feared. If he had, he would have done it already. No, he had only been playing with her like a satiated cat plays with a trapped mouse for the fun of it, then walks away, letting the mouse go free for another day's game.

  Lara wavered. Brandishing the pitchfork had changed the game, but it was too late to put it down now. The threat was made and she had to follow through with it, or cower submissively at his feet. That she would never do.

  His hands moved from his hips, alert and ready for battle. With slow purposeful strides, Rans walked toward her, narrowing the gap between himself and the pointed ends of the pitchfork. She tried to swallow away the tightness in her throat.

  "Stay away from me," Lara warned, tipping her head slightly to the side as she raised the pitchfork a fraction of an inch.

  Rans didn't alter his stride, stopping only when the pointed ends of the pitchfork were pricking the front of his shirt. Nervously her fingers clenched and unclenched the handle. Courage deserted her with the blatant way he was ignoring her threat.

  "Don't you want to run the pitchfork through me?" he taunted, his gaze boring into her troubled green eyes. "A woman is entitled to defend her honor."

  "Leave me alone," Lara murmured desperately.

  The tips wavered as if the weight of the pitchfork had become too heavy. Before she could steady her shaking arms, his hand had sliced upward, gripped the handle just in front of the prongs and shoved it away from his chest. Lara forgot to let go of her end and his twisting, pulling motion drew her within his reach as he yanked the weapon from her hands.

  The bay whinnied nervously in his stall, the uneasy shifting of metal clad hooves echoing loudly in the stable. The hammering of Lara's frightened heart drowned out even that as she kicked and clawed at her captor, emitting the gasping, distress cries of a trapped animal.

  An iron band circled her waist, l
ifting her feet off the floor. Her fists flailed at his head and he turned her in his arms so she had no target. The heel of her shoe found his shinbone. His grip loosened and her feet touched the ground. Lara nearly spun out of his hold for the second time.

  Instead she went crashing onto the floor, her fall broken by the cushioning mound of hay. Rans was there immediately, the weight of his body holding her down while he seized her wrists and stretched her arms above her head.

  "Let me go!" she cried in angry frustration, glaring at the hewn face above her own.

  "Not a chance, hellcat," Rans chuckled. "Not until you've learned your lesson."

  The smoldering light in his eyes warned her of his intentions. Frantically she twisted her face into her arm to elude the satirical mouth moving toward her. Holding her slender wrists with one hand, steel fingers of his free hand wrenched her chin around, subjecting Lara to the punishment of his hard mouth.

  There was no escape from the smothering pressure that ground her lips against her teeth. Her body writhed beneath his pinning length, crushed by his weight until she could hardly breathe. Blackness swirled behind her closed eyes as her lungs were deprived of oxygen. The strength to resist and struggle ebbed to nothing.

  The cruelty of his kiss eased at her submission. Lara noted the change with relief as Rans seemed to breathe life into her instead of stealing it away. His fingers left her chin to tangle themselves in the silken mass of her flame-colored hair.

  His lips moved over the skin his grip had bruised. No longer suffocated by his mouth, Lara gulped in shaky breaths, inhaling his musky scent at the same time. Absently she was aware of his mouth moving along her jaw, pausing to nibble the lobe of her ear, then trailing down the sensitive nerves of her neck.

  The hay scratched at her arms. Lara made a protesting movement against it and her wrists were released. Slowly she drew her arms down, and blood surged into the numbed limbs. As the ability to feel returned, she became conscious of the seductive quality in his touch. Her skin was tingling where Rans was lightly nibbling on her neck.

  "No," Lara breathed. Her hands moved to strain against his muscular chest.

  As if obeying, his mouth left her neck only to close sensuously over her lips. She realized then that he didn't intend to let her go until she responded. Her heartbeat quickened in fear. Instantly his hand began caressing her shoulder and neck in the most soothing manner, easing the rigid tension the thought had evoked.

  "Relax," Rans murmured huskily against the corner of her lips.

  Seemingly minus a will of her own, Lara obeyed. His mouth opened moistly over hers, reminding her how to kiss with passion, an art she thought she had forgotten until his expertise recalled it. The intimate exploration of the kiss aroused desires she had believed long dead.

  The wildfire shooting through her veins melted what little cold resistance that remained. A leaping pulse hastened the thaw. The wonder of his touch filled Lara with awe. A million new sensations seemed to be splintering through her.

  Her hand inched closer to the curling thickness of the hair on his neck. His own fingers loosened themselves from the silken tangle of her hair, trailing evocatively down her neck to the hollow of her throat.

  A sighing moan of shuddering surrender came from her throat when his fingers released the buttons of her blouse. Her breast swelled to the cup of his hand. Lara slid her hand inside his shirt, reveling in the burning nakedness of his skin. What was happening to her was crazy, crazy and glorious.

  A whirlpool of emotion had her spinning. The warm moistness of his lips trailed languidly down her neck to kiss the rounded curve of her breast while his hand moved along her hip, molding her pliant flesh against his hard length. Senses vibrated with secret longings. Of its own volition her body moved suggestively against his.

  His head raised to claim her mouth again, tasting the hunger of her parted lips, the kiss deepening with elemental desire. A radiant glow of ecstasy filled Lara's heart with a joy beyond expression. The abandoned fervidness of her response was her way of sharing the profound emotion awakening within her.

  There was a withdrawal of his lips from hers. Lara waited to feel the fiery trail touch her again. Rans's weight shifted slightly away from her. The red gold tips of her lashes fluttered upward, an expectant glow in her green eyes, the ardent fire veiled by her lashes.

  Rans was watching her, a mysteriously hard light in his eyes. The cynical curve of his mouth was formed neither by amusement nor contentment. A chill ran down her spine, its icy fingers a warning.

  "You are full of surprises, aren't you, Mrs. Cochran?" he murmured, drawing a deep, calming breath. "Maybe I should let your husband in on your little secret."

  "Wh-what secret?" Lara whispered shakily.

  What did he mean? Was he going to tell Trevor what he'd done? The way he'd kissed her and she had kissed back? Why? For what possible purpose? To hurt her?

  "That all it takes is a little brute force to change you from a frigid wildcat to a sex kitten," Rans mocked.

  Scarlet stained her cheeks as waves of unbearable heat swept through her. Swiftly Lara rolled from beneath him, sitting up with her legs curled beneath her in the hay, her back turned to him, her head bent in almost unendurable shame.

  "That's not true," she protested in a choked voice. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of her blouse, fastening only two when the hay rustled beside her.

  "Isn't it?" Rans turned her partially around, his hand sliding under her blouse onto her ribs. "Shall I prove it?"

  Her head remained downcast, the fiery curtain of her hair concealing her expression from his probing gaze. Tears of shame burned her eyes as Lara silently acknowledged the power Rans seemed to have over her flesh. Even if she struggled, she knew she would be ultimately overpowered by the potent force of his masculinity.

  In her heart she knew it would only be a token struggle. The rapture she had felt at his caress was still too fresh in her mind. There was no need for him to prove her susceptibility to his lovemaking.

  "Don't." A trembling whisper as weak and shaky as her limbs from the desire he had awakened. "Please," she added, asking for his mercy.

  Her heart hammered wildly as he withdrew his hand from her bare skin, then crooked a forefinger under he chin to raise it. White teeth were holding her quivering lower lip still. At his continued lack of movement and silence, Lara lifted her lashes to gaze imploringly at him. One crystal teardrop hovered on the tip of a lash.

  The unreadable depths of his brown eyes held her attention while a finger touched the lash holding the tear. It slipped onto his fingers.

  "You wanted to make love to me, didn't you?" Rans stated, his chiseled expression revealing nothing, not even the effects of the lust-filled moments they had shared.

  "Yes. Yes. Yes!" Her voice rising in a crescendo of hurt and humiliation, ending with a cymbal crashing, "I hate you!"

  He seemed to find her vehemence amusing. He studied the movement of his thumb as it rubbed the wetness of her tear on his finger. With animal litheness, he rolled to his feet, towering above her while Lara glared at him, her head thrown back proudly.

  "Poor Mrs. Cochran," he said with cutting laughter in his voice. "You are human, after all."

  Her eyes filled with tears, as if somewhere a dam had burst. Blinded by the flood, Lara didn't see Rans leave. She only heard the closing of the stable door. Salty tears ran down her cheeks, their briny taste coating her lips.

  It was nearly half an hour before she had sufficient control of herself to sneak back into the house. In the privacy of her room it started all over again. She had once sworn that she would never let a man hurt her again, but she had never expected to meet anyone like Rans MacQuade.

  The next morning Lara had to force herself to go downstairs to join her father and Trevor at the breakfast table. She was certain they would notice the change in her. The shell that had protected her was gone. She was a vulnerable woman again. Neither of them—and not even Sara, who knew her
so well — appeared to see any difference in her. She felt temporarily safe for a little while longer.

  But the moment she dreaded most of all had not yet occurred. She still had to meet Rans face to face. The more days that went by without it happening, the more she dreaded the confrontation. Would pride keep her composed or would she dissolve like a bowl of gelatin at the sight of him, remembering the way she had humiliated herself in his arms?

  When the moment came, Lara still wasn't prepared for it. She and Sara had finished the evening dishes and Lara was on her way to her room, intending to hide there behind the pages of a book. As she crossed the entry hall to the staircase, the study door opened and her father stepped out.

  "Lara, are you busy?" Martin Alexander halted just outside the opened door.

  She hesitated, then turned away from the stairs to walk toward her father. "Not particularly. Why?"

  "Would you bring a pot of coffee into the study?" he asked. "Rans and I are discussing the chapter outlines of my book."

  Her gaze flew past him through the open door, riveting on the man, in the chair facing the desk. The study light gleamed over the dark golden brown of his hair. Her pulse leaped and there was a crazy singing in her ears. For an instant Lara was afraid she would faint, then she regained control of her senses.

  "Of course, I will, daddy," she agreed, planning to deputize Sara to bring the pot.

  "And bring three cups," he instructed.

  "Three?" she frowned.

  "Yes, I want you to join us."

  Lara swallowed, smiling nervously. "Another time, maybe. There were, uh, some things I wanted to get done tonight."

  He waved the protest aside. "Let them wait."

  "But you will be talking about the book, technical things—"

  "Exactly," Martin nodded. "Rans seems to think I should have separate chapters on disease and insects, because—well, never mind. We'll go into the reasons later, but I want your opinion too." The matter was settled as far as he was concerned and he turned to reenter the study, pausing to add, "You might bring some of Sara's pecan tarts with the coffee."