Chapter Five

 

"I love this place," Claudia said, hopping out of the truck and enjoying the feel of her skirt fluffing around her knees. "You will not find an uglier shade of pink this side of the laxative section at the five-and-dime."

"It's…unique," Declan said. "I wonder if they've ever seen a man in a kilt before."

The Sugar Shack, in all its hot-pink glory, sat under the parking lot lights. The night was cold, but the sound of fiddles and a concertina from within promised heat to go with the music.

"C'mon," Claudia said, grabbing Declan by the hand. "If we stand out here much longer, I'll get to frettin' about Kara, and then next thing you know, we'll be in that truck, heading back to the Bar J."

Claudia's nerves had only a little bit to do with Kara being home alone. Kara was certainly old enough and had spent plenty of time at the ranch house by herself. The problem was Declan—or rather, Claudia's feelings toward Declan.

Over the past few days, he'd pitched in everywhere, without being asked. No job was beneath him, from mucking stalls to changing Hotay's litter box. When he wasn't helping out with the chores, he was researching land records and zoning ordinances, reading the fine print on Claudia's mortgage documents, or joining her for rides that took them over every acre of ground she owned.

He rode with the natural seat of a guy who'd been put in the saddle early and allowed to figure out the basics for himself, and—why couldn't a gal catch a break?—he looked damned good in the saddle.

He held hands well too. Nothing wimpy or tentative about the way his fingers linked with Claudia's, and that was…that was pure torment, and she'd brought it on herself.

"You're the angel of doom," Claudia said as they reached the door. "Why can't I at least resent the hell out of you?"

The parking lot was about half full, this being a weeknight. Declan glanced around, then pulled Claudia into the shadow of the overhang. He kissed her cheek, his breath a warm breeze on a cold night.

"I've been thinking," he said. "You know Miranda Davis. We're going to talk more about that when we get home."

Claudia did not want to talk. She wanted to gobble him whole, which made no sense. "Aren't your knees cold, Declan?"

He rested his forehead against Claudia's. "When I'm with you, no part of me could ever be cold."

Warmth blossomed inside Claudia. If she was going to be a complete idiot, at least she'd be in good company.

"Don't start any fights," she said, letting Declan hold the door.

"See that you don't either. I'm not sure I can find my way back to the ranch in the dark without you."

The musicians were taking a break when Claudia and Declan walked in, and that meant everybody had a chance to ogle her in a skirt for a change, and ogle the guy beside her, who was also wearing a skirt—sorta. Declan had said it was a work kilt, plain black rather than any particular plaid, like Scottish blue jeans.

"Hey, Claude!" Shiloh Malloy yelled from a booth near the bar. "Introduce me to your Highlander!"

Shiloh sat with her sister Bonnie, which left room for both Declan and Claudia at the booth. Declan ordered a Guinness, Claudia chose a Sam Adams.

"Do you dance as good as you smell?" Bonnie Malloy asked. She sat beside Declan, her blue eyes alit with friendliness.

Claudia wanted to kick her under the table.

"Bonnie, you'll have the man thinking we have no manners," Shiloh chided. "'Sides, Claudia smelled him first. You don't stand a chance."

"Just for that," Declan said, "I'll stand up with Miss Bonnie, if she doesn't mind being seen with a kilted cowboy."

"Lucky me," Bonnie said, scooting out of the booth as if the fire alarm had just blared. "Do you know any line dances, or will I have to teach you the moves?"

"Give it up, Bon," Shiloh hooted.

"I've been on the dance floor a few times," Declan said. "Your toes are safe with me."

The trio in the corner started up a sweet, swinging, Travis Tritt tune, and Declan partnered up with Bonnie.

"Her toes are safe," Shiloh said. "What about your heart, Claudia?"

Good God, Declan was delicious on the dance floor. He had the moves, and that damned kilt brushing against his knees, flashing a bit of muscular thigh…He was smiling at Bonnie, not even flirtatiously, and every other woman on the dance floor was smiling too…and not at her partner.

"Earth to Claudia. There's a defibrillator on the wall behind the bar."

"That won't help, Shiloh."

Shiloh slid Claudia's beer over and stole a taste. "The way you look at that guy tells me nothing will help. You did say he's trying to steal your ranch, didn't you?"

Claudia retrieved her beer and took a sip, but that didn't help either. "He's trying to save the ranch too. His boss is mean as a snake, and if Declan doesn't deliver the Bar J on a platter, he'll lose his job."

Shiloh watched Bonnie flirting and twirling on the dance floor with Declan for the space of an eight-measure phrase.

"That guy could get a job anywhere, Claudia. He has 'good with his hands' written all over him."

"Nope. He's not a US citizen. If he doesn't get those hands on the Bar J, he'll be back in Scotland on the next nonstop out of Houston."

"And you can't get your hands on him at all if he's in Scotland. This is what you call complicated. Are you thinking of selling?"

Shiloh's question was offered neutrally, but she'd lowered her voice, because the Sugar Shack was a local place, and a decision to sell up and leave wouldn't be viewed kindly by all of Claudia's neighbors.

"I can't leave the Bar J, Shiloh. It's Kara's home, all she has of her mom. She loves the horses, and a deaf kid doesn't transplant just anywhere overnight."

Shiloh patted Claudia's hand. "But?"

The dance called for Declan to twirl Bonnie under his arm, and then wrap his arm around her until she twirled back the other way. He was careful with Bonnie, keeping the dance on the proper side of friendly.

And he looked good enough to eat.

"But I'm tired, Shiloh. I'm barely keeping up, physically and financially, and I can't take on more lessons because spring is coming. Kara will be a senior next year, and who knows where she'll be after that? I worry about her safety when she's on the ranch by herself, but what about me? I'm around the livestock, the equipment, day after day. I sometimes don't come into town for two weeks, if I skip church. That's a long time to be crawling to the house after a bad fall."

Shiloh waved to the waitress.

"Declan has made you stop and think. That's good, Claudia. You'll take on some hands in a few weeks though, won't you?"

Declan was a tireless worker. In less than a week, he'd proved to Claudia that she needed help. She always had some seasonal hands in the spring, but their labor came dear if she could find employees who knew what they were doing.

"I may not own the ranch in a few weeks, Shiloh. The whole time Declan has been researching land records, looking for comparable properties nearby, or trying to find reasons Brewster shouldn't buy my place, I've been researching Thaddeus Brewster. He's Houston royalty and has a reputation for playing dirty."

"Sounds like exactly like the kinda guy I don't want for a neighbor."

"How would you like to have him as your boss? Your whole career in his hands? Nothing but you standing between Brewster's stupidity and the livelihoods of a lot of good folks?"

The song came to a sliding, dipping, end, and Declan next stood up with Shiloh. Claudia took a turn with Rusty Dawson, foreman of the Malloy Ranch, and then with Waylon, who owned the spread across from the Malloys. Not until three dances later did Claudia realize they'd all four—Shiloh, Waylon, Bonnie, and Rusty—come together.

As in two couples? Damn, but spring was coming fast.

"Isn't there a saying about dancing with the one who brought me?" Declan extended a hand to Claudia, and she took it.

"You're a good dancer," she said. "All the ladies have been watching you."

"I like to dance," Declan said, "but the entire point of the outing was to have an excuse to put my arms around you again."

The fiddles started up, lilting along in close harmony.

"I'm all out of flirtation, Declan. If I'd known this was a damned slow dance, I would have told you to meet me at the truck."

"We can leave after this," Declan said. "I want one dance, though, Claudia. If you're willing."

She was more than willing, she was eager. She stepped in close and put a hand on Declan's shoulder. He wrapped her in the honky-tonk version of waltz position, and Claudia resigned herself to getting her heart broke in three-four time.

Declan was warm, solid muscle, spectacularly male, and had all the sweet moves. The attraction Claudia had been fighting since laying eyes on him flared high, and she allowed it. He'd be gone in a few days, and she was tempted to just hand over the ranch without a fuss. The price was generous, Kara would soon be off to college, and Texas was full of lovely little horse properties tricked out with all the latest conveniences.

"Penny for them," Declan whispered.

She wanted to hear that whisper in the dark. "They all left, Declan."

"I beg your pardon?"

"All those Jensens who worked the Bar J, all six generations of them. They either died or moved on. I have the biggest empty house, and the biggest empty bunkhouse, in the Canyon. Maybe I should move on too."

He said nothing, and the music spun on, until the blend of bitter resignation and sweet longing nearly had Claudia in tears. Declan held her though, kept her close until the last notes faded over an oddly subdued crowd.

"I'm taking you home," Declan said. "And then we'll talk."

No, they would not. Not yet. Declan could take her home, but then Claudia was going to take him to bed. After that, they might not have anything left to say to each other except good-bye.

***

Claudia looked in on Kara when they got home, more evidence that the owner of the Bar J was conscientious about her responsibilities, as if her care with the property and livestock wasn't proof enough.

For Declan, dancing with Claudia had been a slice of heaven, and a cowboy waltz through hell. He wanted her with a ferocious unrelenting fire, and yet, she was the last woman who ought to give him a second look.

"What else can you tell me about Miranda Davis?" he asked, as Claudia put a kettle on to boil.

"Not much. I get the Aggie alumni news, so I see when she's been appointed to this board of directors, or taken on that charity drive. We exchange Christmas cards. She did some fundraising for a therapeutic riding program in Amarillo last year. I sent her a thank-you note."

Claudia wore a frothy green skirt with a peacock vest and a gauzy white peasant top. In this big kitchen, she was a jewel of color and curves, and Declan wanted to wear her—and only her—all the way to bed.

The kettle began to whistle. Claudia turned off the burner, and poured steaming water into two sage green mugs that bore the Bar J brand and an image of a horse and rider leaping a fence.

"Have you ever met a dowser?" Declan asked.

She set one mug before Declan. "One of those guys who claims to be able to find water? I've heard of them."

The scents of lavender and chamomile filled the kitchen as Claudia took the seat across the table from Declan.

"I knew a true dowser once, in Scotland. One of those old women about whom nobody seemed to know much, except that she'd lived in her crofter's hut as long as the other old people could recall. We needed water for a birding center, and if we couldn't find water close by, then we couldn't build the center."

Claudia put a squirt of honey in her tea and passed the bottle to Declan. "I thought Scotland had plenty of rain."

"Modern facilities can't be planned with a cistern for a water supply, and in the Highlands, a lot of the rain runs straight down to the sea. We needed groundwater, but the available land was at such an elevation, we weren't likely to find any."

"What has this to do with the Bar J?"

The tea didn't taste as good as it smelled. Declan added honey, but that didn't improve it much.

"That old woman wandered over the terrain for days with her willow switches. She'd sit for hours, studying the topology, watching the wildlife. The hydrologist said she was daft, the geologist agreed. The old people remained silent. I feel like that old woman."

Claudia apparently wasn't interested in the tea either. "In what sense?"

"I'm wandering over the terrain, listening as hard as I can for a solution. I'm close to seeing all the parts I need to see if I'm to appease Brewster without costing you your ranch, but I just can't get my willow switches to cross."

"Interesting analogy, and I'm glad you think there is a solution, because I'm not so sure. I do know one thing, though."

She sounded tired, though a couple of hours off the ranch had left Claudia looking more relaxed.

"Don't tell me you're willing to sell, Claudia. We have more time, and I want that time. This is your heritage. You make this ranch thrive, and I'll not allow you to wave a white flag yet."

Her smile was slow and pleased. "Maybe more cowboys should wear kilts, if it inspires them to be so fierce. I'm feeling fierce too, Declan, and that's why I'm taking you to bed."

Even though Americans and Scots spoke the same language for the most part, Declan didn't assume the words meant the same thing on both sides of the Atlantic.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I want you, you want me. I despise the situation we're in, but neither of us has created this problem. I'll probably regret spending a night with you, but I'm sure—sure in my cowgirl bones—that I'll regret it more if I don't."

Declan rose, because he couldn't endure the absolute knowing in Claudia's eyes.

Her willow switches had crossed, right over Declan's sporran. For tonight.

"You shouldn't have to choose between regrets, Claudia. I want more than that for us." The words were a risk, but also the truth.

She rose and took his hand. "That, that right there—that you see an us when us doesn't seem possible—is why I want this night. Have some faith, Declan. I won't give up my ranch without a fight, you won't take it unless you have to. We deserve the same tenacity and determination from each other. I'd dearly love to take you to bed."

Declan wrapped his arms around her, while his thoughts whirled. What if there was no way to keep Brewster's paws off the ranch? What if Kara's success was derailed by having to move and possibly change schools? What if Claudia's horse business couldn't set down roots outside the Canyon?

What if Declan never again had an opportunity to make love with her?

"We'll take each other to bed," he said.

Declan had no recollection of the journey from the kitchen to his bedroom, but the route was punctuated with slow, deep kisses, with some cursing when it came to getting his sporran unfastened, and with some smiles.

A lot of smiles.

They took turns in the shower, which was all that prevented Declan from commencing the festivities against the nearest sturdy wall. He was silently cursing at his computer in the bedroom when Claudia emerged from the bathroom wearing nothing but a big, fluffy blue towel.

"You aren't reading emails, are you? I know you're an engineer, but emails aren't my idea of foreplay, Declan."

He closed his laptop and remained sitting at the desk. "What is your idea of foreplay?"

She drew the window curtain closed and locked the door. "Four days of watching you by the hour while I keep my hands to myself might qualify."

"Four nights of dreaming about you," he said. "Four nights of seeing you on horseback, on the tractor, in the truck, with tools in your hands, making dinner…Come here, Claudia."

She gave him a look that made it plain she chose to comply with his direction, and she kept on coming, until she straddled his lap.

"Enough talk, Declan. Tonight isn't for talk." She'd apparently been holding back before, giving Declan the ladylike version of her desire.

He'd been holding back too. He rose with her wrapped around his middle and carried her to the bed. When her back hit the mattress, he climbed onto the bed and covered her, his mouth fused to hers.

"I will not let you lose this ranch," he said.

"I won't let you lose your livelihood," she countered.

But she would happily cause Declan to lose his mind. Claudia had dexterous toes, a nimble tongue, and hands that found all of a man's favorite places to be touched. She was bold and gentle, determined and careful.

Between them, they got rid of her towel, Declan's kilt, and a lot of useless inhibitions.

"You made me moan," Claudia panted, when Declan had used his mouth on both of her breasts. "I never moan. Moaning isn't—do that again."

Moans became sighs, and then Claudia went on the offensive, touching Declan everywhere he hadn't been touched in too long.

"If you keep that up the party will be over before it starts," Declan said.

"Then I'll start the party all over."

She could do it too. Could get him all wound up over and over, but a party for one wasn't a party at all.

Declan sat back and dealt with the condom, then settled over Claudia. "Do your worst, and I'll try my best."

The pleasure was…transcendent, as if all the stars filling a moonless Texas sky had rained down into his heart. Claudia didn't believe in starting off slowly, and Declan didn't believe in arguing with a lady. They rocked the bed, and Declan's world, and—he hoped—Claudia's heart too. She wasn't stingy with the afterglow either. When Declan had dispensed with the condom, Claudia straddled him and cuddled down onto his chest.

Her weight and warmth were comforting, providing reassurances that what had gone before was about more than physical gratification.

"I like this part," she said. "I like the cuddling, not that I'm complaining about the other. I'm guessing Scottish women are a pretty happy bunch, judging by present company."

"Scottish women are formidable, like you. I like this part too, Claudia." With her, Declan loved this part. Loved the sense of both creating and sharing a safe haven with her, a place to retreat from the world's problems, and to recharge physically and emotionally from the passion he'd shared with her.

"I like you," Claudia said. "Helluva nuisance. I like you a lot."

Declan patted her bum. "Go to sleep and dream of me. Morning will be here all too soon."

She dozed off, while Declan remained awake, treasuring the feel of her in his arms, and dreading what the morning would bring.

***

"What do you mean, Brewster wants the deal closed by Saturday?" Claudia kept her voice down though she wanted to bellow.

"He sent an email," Declan said, putting the juice pitcher on the table. "He and Miranda are having dinner on Saturday night, and he wants to be able to tell her that he has a contract on this property."

Claudia had seen Declan serious, playful, passionate, and irritated, but she'd never seen him this grim.

"You read that email last night, didn't you?"

"Aye. The one he sent this morning says you have until noon tomorrow to take his offer."

The oatmeal threatened to boil over, and Claudia nearly burned her hand getting it off the stove.

"I hate your boss, Declan."

"I'm none too fond of him myself. The next offer won't be as generous, and as your ranch is plagued by one mishap after another, the offers will keep going down. I've seen it happen when he wants something badly enough. He'll send me off to the North Sea or Nigeria so I won't be able to stay his hand. He's done that before too."

Claudia ran her palm under cold water, while Declan set the table. He knew where everything was now, and he moved around the kitchen as if it was his.

His too.

"Miranda Davis must have something he wants, very, very badly," Claudia said. "All I want is for him to leave me alone."

Kara came in the back door and went straight to the sink to wash her hands. Her schedule was lightest on Fridays, though today she had a biology test. Claudia kept the conversation focused on school, plans for the weekend, and the sex life of protozoa, while Declan said little and stared out the back window a lot.

"Declan can help me turn the horses out," Kara signed. "It will go faster with two of us."

Declan was on his feet as soon as Kara had made his name sign. "I'm happy to help. Claudia, thanks for the meal, and you can put the dishes to soak. I'll get to them when the barn work is done."

He tried to sign as he spoke, but his American Sign Language vocabulary and his fluency were both lacking. Kara beamed at him nonetheless, and to see her niece smiling like that, Claudia lost yet more of her heart to the man who'd come to steal her ranch.

"Good luck on your test," Claudia signed as Kara led Declan out the door.

The silence in the kitchen was larger than it should have been, maybe because Kara was a very quiet housemate. Declan spoke, and he needed Claudia to express herself audibly, and that change was a relief. Probably the same sort of relief Kara felt around her deaf friends.

Why had Claudia worried about Kara's social isolation, but never about her own?

Rather than tidy up the breakfast mess, Claudia went to Declan's room, shucked off her boots, and climbed into his bed.

He'd made love with her again in the middle of the night, and yet again as the first streaks of dawn had crept across the eastern lip of the Canyon. The last time had been slow, thorough, and excruciatingly tender.

Short of parting with the ranch, Claudia would give up an awful lot for more of that loving, and more of that man.

An awful, awful lot.