The Reward Page 10

  “Leigh,” Malcolm whispered in her ear as he pumped into her so deeply, he touched her heart.

  Their ragged breaths mingled with the musky scent of sex. Leigh realized she still held the rag in her hand and nearly every drop of water had been squeezed out of it. Malcolm was buried inside her, hard and throbbing. He took a deep breath she felt all the way to her toes.

  “Dios.”

  “You can say that again.”

  He slowly withdrew and his warm seed trickled down her leg. She heard him pull his pants up behind her. She was shaking too much to do that yet. The sink was actually holding her up. If it hadn’t been there, she’d probably be on the floor kissing the wood planks.

  Malcolm took the rag from her hands and pumped fresh water on it. After he squeezed the excess water off, he cleaned her off with gentle strokes. She should be embarrassed, but she wasn’t. It was another considerate gesture that seemed to come naturally to him. With one last pinch to her clit that sent a shiver down her back, he lay the rag on the sink, then pulled up her drawers and pants. She didn’t move until he touched her shirt and she stopped him.

  “I’ll finish.”

  While she buttoned her shirt, he lit the candle again. She was not surprised to see her hands shaking and it took more than one attempt to get a damn button in a hole. It still completely astonished her that sex with Malcolm was enough to knock her off balance. Not much ever did. Leigh always had to be strong, unbending and unyielding. Malcolm turned her into a woman…a soft woman.

  Leigh finished buttoning her shirt and picked up the rag from the side of the sink. She worked the pump again, and let the water gush for a minute. After the water got a little colder, she put both hands and the rag under the stream. She sure as hell needed it cold. The heat in her body was still stoked up as high as a winter fire.

  “You went to see Damasco.”

  It wasn’t a question. She was finally able to look him in the eye without dragging him upstairs to her bed. Her body was screaming for more. More of Malcolm.

  “Yes, I did. It’s not your business where I go or who I see, Mal. You don’t control me.”

  Malcolm’s expression turned to stone when his eyes fastened on her lip. He touched the swelling with one callused finger.

  “I hope you said goodbye because I am going to cut off his balls and ram them down his throat.”

  He turned and walked toward the door as if he had just said he was going to curry his horse. Completely matter-of-fact and without emotion. She found it hard to believe he was the same man who was just buried inside her spilling himself.

  “If you walk out that door and go kill your brother, you might as well take all your gear with you, because I won’t let you back on the Circle O.”

  Enough was enough, she thought. A little smack on the face was not worth killing someone over. They needed to catch him red-handed in one of his dirty deeds and then haul his ass to the sheriff, not castrate and kill him.

  He stopped with his hand on the knob. “You ask too much, amante.”

  “No, I don’t.” She stepped forward to touch his arm. It was like touching the branch of an oak tree, so rigid she thought he might snap his arm if he pulled the door too hard. “I care about you, Malcolm. Hell, I probably love you. And I’m not going to have you hang from a cottonwood because of a slap. Help me stop him and I’ll help you find your mother.”

  She held out her hand to shake. “Deal?”

  He turned his head slightly and stared hard at her hand. When he looked into her eyes, she couldn’t read their black expression. He leaned forward and gently kissed her lip.

  “If he does it again, you won’t stop me.”

  With that, he went through the door into the inky night.

  ———

  Hell, I probably love you.

  Malcolm’s head reeled as he walked across the yard. Leigh’s casually spoken words had literally knocked the breath from him. She loved him? She loved him? It was so incredibly foreign he didn’t know what to think. Roja’s gift of food and supplies had completely turned his life upside down. He didn’t know his ass from his elbow anymore.

  She loved him.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Malcolm was stuck repairing tack the next day since he was too banged up to sit a horse. Repairing tack was a thankless, boring job that ended up cramping your hands from all the braiding you had to do with the leather. Not only that, the tack room stank like old sweat and somebody’s two-day-old lunch. He was sitting on a stool fastening the last of the reins to the bridle for one of the hands’ horses—couldn’t remember which one—when Earl skittered in, resembling a weasel in search of a quick Mexican meal.

  “Didn’t you get finished yet, boy?”

  Malcolm didn’t respond. He never did when anyone called him “boy”, not only because it was annoying, but also because it pissed off whoever was trying to belittle him.

  “You deaf? Ears don’t work?”

  Malcolm looked up and stared at Earl blankly until the older man sputtered and mumbled something about dinner being on soon. He turned his watery eyes to the tack laid out on the table. Malcolm could almost see Earl counting in his head like a little kid on his fingers who had trouble remembering two plus two.

  “Where the hell is that stirrup for my horse?”

  There had been no stirrup on the table this morning, and of course there still was no stirrup.

  “You left no stirrup to be repaired.”

  “Liar. You stole it, didn’t ya? You thieving Mexicans are all alike. Can’t wait to take stuff and go sell it over the border.”

  The border was a hundred miles away. Oh, sure. Malcolm would steal a single stirrup and ride all that way to make a profit.

  “This is something O’Reilly is going to have to listen to.” He turned to stomp out the door then stopped short when he saw Leigh standing in the doorway. Malcolm felt a rush of pleasure and pain seeing her. She was dressed in a red gingham shirt and black vest with jeans. Her boots were covered in muck and horseshit. She had a smudge of dirt on her cheek, her lip was still swollen and cracked in one corner, and her glasses were slightly crooked. And somehow, she was more beautiful than any woman he had ever seen.

  “What’s going on, Earl?” she said evenly.

  Earl looked surprised to see her, but immediately pounced on her presence to show her what a thief she’d hired.

  “We need to search his things. He done stole a stirrup and God knows what else he’s stuffed in them saddlebags.” His nostrils flared and a bit of spittle flew from his lips to hang in the air between them for a moment.

  She turned her gaze to Malcolm, maintaining a flat expression that did nothing to reveal what she was thinking.

  “Earl says you stole a stirrup?”

  In the depths of her hazel eyes, he thought he saw a glimpse of the old Leigh.

  “I steal nada, Leigh. Although if you look now, you may find something that someone else put there.”

  “That’s ridiculous. No one would do that.” Earl’s face told a different story.

  Malcolm lifted his brow and stared at Earl with contempt. That sneaky old man had planted something in his things for sure. It was unnecessary to even defend himself, but he wanted Leigh to show her foreman she was still in charge.

  “Did you see a stirrup?”

  Malcolm shook his head.

  She turned toward Earl and planted one hand on her hip. The other leaned up against the doorway.

  “What the hell are you talking about, Earl?”

  Earl looked a little shocked by her question. “You know these Mexes. They’ll steal from their own grandmothers if you don’t watch ‘em. I’m telling ya, let’s go take a gander at what he’s got in his saddlebags.”

  Leigh’s brows drew together. “We’ve had Mexicans working for us as long as I can remember. Probably since Sean bought this ranch. None of them ever stole anything from this ranch, much less a frigging stirrup.”

  “Are you calling m
e a liar?” Earl’s eyes narrowed.

  She stood and bracketed both hips with her arms, elbows sticking out, chin up in the air.

  “No, but I can’t figure out why you keep riding Malcolm like a horse that hasn’t been broken.”

  Earl said, “Malcolm?”

  Malcolm took great pleasure in rising from the stool to stand over the older man with a wicked grin on his face. “Me. I am Malcolm Ross y Zarza.”

  Earl nearly gasped. Malcolm had never heard a man make a sound like that, but it sure as well was as close to a gasp as he’d ever heard.

  “Zarza?” Earl repeated.

  Malcolm’s eyes met Leigh’s. “Another canyon in here.”

  He saw her biting back a small grin. “Earl, Malcolm is my friend. We’ve known each other all our lives. I trust him with this ranch, my tack, hell, even my life. You have nothing to worry about. I don’t think there’s anything in his saddlebags that doesn’t belong to him.”

  At least that he had put there anyway.

  Earl had recovered some of the color in his weathered cheeks. “I don’t trust him. I don’t care whose bastard he is.”

  “Careful, abuelo,” Malcolm murmured. His hands inadvertently clenched into fists. He had to unclench them before he actually hurt this old man.

  “One more thing goes missing and I’ll get the sheriff myself.” With that, Earl shoved Leigh back to stomp out of the tack room and into the barn.

  Leigh watched him leave with a perplexed look on her face. “What was that all about?”

  “I think he’s trying to get rid of me,” Malcolm said flatly.

  She rolled her eyes and walked into the tack room. With an audible “humph”, she sat on the stool. “I figured that out, Mal. But why?”

  “I think he might be behind a lot of your problems, amante.”

  She snorted. “Not a chance.”

  His eyebrows rose. “Why not?”

  “Well, he was…that is…he worked for Sean long before I was married to him.”

  “That is not a good reason.”

  “No, you’re right. I never liked Earl, but I never had any reason not to trust him.”

  “I might be wrong, no? But I don’t think so. Let us ride out tomorrow and count your cows.”

  “What’ll that prove? That you learned how to use your fingers?”

  He ran his finger down her incredibly soft cheek. “You know I can use my fingers.” She sucked in a breath and stared hard at him. He could almost see the heat pulsing between them, shimmering in the air. When he removed his finger and leaned back, the spell was broken.

  He cleared his throat. “We compare our count to Earl’s records. They should match or at least be close. In fact, I think you should double-check everything he has a hand in around the Circle O. Someone is helping to ruin your ranch. Who better than someone who practically runs it?”

  She blew out a breath and nodded. “I don’t think we’re going to find anything, but it’s a good idea anyway. I didn’t do the count for the spring round-up, Earl did. The fall round-up is two months away, but I can’t wait that long.”

  He grasped her elbow and pulled her up, guiding her outside to walk toward the house. Her scent filled his nostrils—leather, horse and essence of Leigh. He breathed deeply of the heady smell.

  “Supper time? Or bath time?” Malcolm spoke into her ear with a flick of his tongue on the soft pink shell.

  She snapped her head around to glare at him. “Is that supposed to be funny?”

  “No, amante, but all day long I thought of nothing but how beautiful you look when you are wet and naked.”

  She stumbled and he caught her elbow. “You know how to knock me on my ass, don’t you?” Leigh’s voice sounded strained.

  He smiled at her. “Only if it lands you on my lap, carina.”

  ———

  After a dinner of beans and biscuits, Leigh and Malcolm headed out to the front porch again. It had become a comfortable ritual—something an old married couple would do. Sean never did anything like that with her. They hadn’t had much in common really, except a friendship. They never talked, rarely laughed.

  And here she was with Malcolm, wishing they could sit like this every night for the rest of her life. It made her want to take the plunge and ask him to stay. She didn’t care what people thought, whether or not they got married or simply enjoyed life together. She just didn’t want him to ever leave again.

  “Did you find anything in the saddlebags?”

  Malcolm took a drag of his cigarillo and blew out a stream of bluish smoke into the twilight air. “Sí. The stirrup, two silver spoons, a silver tea pot and a ring.”

  She whistled softly. “What the hell? Why would…I don’t understand.”

  “I warned Damasco to leave you alone. That you had me at your back to protect you. He is getting rid of the wolf to get to the lamb.”

  “I thought I was the wolf,” she murmured.

  He chuckled. “Mmm…you are my lobo. We are a pack, you and I. So, I say that wrong. He is getting rid of the male to get to the bitch.”

  She slapped him playfully on the arm. “Are you calling me names?”

  He grabbed her hand and kissed the tips of her fingers. “Nunca, amante. Never would I call you names.”

  A shiver started working its way up her arm, making the hairs rise as it marched on. When it reached her shoulder, it turned south and headed straight for her nipples, which obligingly stood at attention. Next in line was her stomach, which fluttered and twittered like mad. And then it reached between her legs and the tingling zinged all the way down to her toes. How could that happen with just a few kisses on her fingers?

  Magic. It had to be magic.

  He took another drag off the cigarillo and laced his hands with hers.

  “Someone will see.”

  He shrugged. “I do not care. What is between us only concerns us.”

  Leigh knew it wasn’t true. What was between them threatened whoever was behind the last two years of trouble on the Circle O. And if Malcolm was right, it was Damasco.

  She could almost see the tension in the air. As if everyone were holding their breath waiting for the storm to arrive. Something was coming, not the least of which was a battle for her ranch. There would also likely be a battle for her life. Someone had already tried to end it more than once. Leigh figured the stakes were raised and the ante higher.

  “I must go to the bunkhouse, amante. I was invited to play poker. I thought I could listen and maybe hear something.”

  That was not disappointment hitting her.

  Oh, hell, yes it was. She still felt a shiver way down deep as it vibrated through her. All she wanted to do was drag his ass upstairs and get naked. They could stay in bed until she forgot all her troubles and remembered what it felt like to be happy. Truly happy.

  “Buenas noches, amante,” he said as he stood.

  He leaned down and grasped her chin to give her a soft kiss His tongue snaked out and licked the wound on her lip.

  She thought she heard him mutter “Dios” under his breath.

  As he walked away, Leigh took great pleasure in contemplating his graceful, predatory stride and his well-formed behind. Malcolm had turned into quite a man. She watched until he was out of the reach of the light and the shadows had swallowed him again.

  ———

  The next morning dawned hazy and sticky, a potent reminder of the blistering summer heat that threatened the day. The sun was almost hidden behind the scattered clouds crowding the odd-colored sky. The day felt strange already, as if there were natural forces at work gathering energy, ready to unleash themselves on wary travelers.

  Today would be a day of traveling. Counting the herd was a daylong job that took her from one end of the Circle O to the other. Compared to some, it was not a large ranch, but it was at least ten thousand acres. Spread across those acres should be over two thousand longhorns. The count wouldn’t be entirely accurate yet because the calves hadn’
t been tallied, nor had the entire herd been counted since the spring round-up.

  When Leigh came downstairs, she had a strange feeling, more like an omen. The day would bring change, for good or for bad. Mrs. Hanson was nowhere to be found, but happily there was a hot pot of coffee on the stove. Leigh poured herself a cup and stood at the window staring out onto the range. A few longhorn were visible in the distance, munching their breakfast. She took a biscuit from the pan on the stove and walked outside to find Malcolm.

  ———

  Leigh found Malcolm shaving in the back of the bunkhouse, shirtless. In his hands was a huge knife with which he slowly scraped his whiskers off. The sound of the blade on his skin was audible in the quiet morning air. He used a mirror nailed to a fence post, and a bowl full of soapy water hanging from a wire. Droplets ran down his skin and sprayed on the ground as he flicked the water off the knife.

  As she came up behind him, he dipped the knife in the water and muscles rippled across his wide back. This time when she saw the horrible damage to his flesh, she saw the past. The past that haunted both of them, which needed to be overcome and put where it belonged—behind them. Leigh clenched her fists in frustration. Soon she would help him lay that past completely to rest, and he would help her into the future.

  She stepped toward him, and beneath all the scars, she looked at the man. The beautiful bronzed skin, the tight muscles and the liquid movement as he raised his arms to shave. He caught her gaze in the mirror and a smile lit his eyes.

  “Buenos dias.”

  “Good morning, Mal. How are you feeling? You look like hell.”

  He had a swollen lip, a black eye, a cut cheek and multiple bruises all over him. Ah, but he was still beautiful enough to snatch her breath.

  “You flatter me.” He smiled. “I am a little sore, but I plan on sitting on my horse today. Did you sleep well?”

  She pondered her answer before she spoke. “No. I missed you.”

  He cursed as he nicked himself with the blade. She regretted her honesty when he grabbed the towel tucked into his waistband to press it to his cheek.