With a moan, he pulled away, trailing kisses along her cheek, her chin, down the satin column of her neck. He nibbled at the tender flesh at the base of her throat and was rewarded with a low laugh. The vibrations of her laughter pa.s.sed through him, a ticklish sensation.

She shifted against him, pressing her body closer. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were crushed against his chest. He brought one hand up to stroke the rounded flesh. Her nipple hardened at his touch, and he fondled it with his thumb, feeling the response in his groin with each sharp intake of her breath.

He kissed the tops of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s where they curved at the neckline of her gown. He could see her nipples now, hard points against the fabric. Slowly so slowly he eased the dress down, pushing aside the camisole and revealing rose and cream perfection.

When he surrounded one taut peak with his mouth, she threw back her head and sighed. He teased her with his tongue, lavishing attention on first one side, then the other. She squirmed beneath him, her short, breathy cries egging him on. The way she pressed her pelvis against his leg left no doubt she was aching for him.

She grasped the front of his shirt and he thought at first she was trying to push him away. But when he raised his head and tried to take a step back, she pulled him toward her again, and began fumbling with the b.u.t.tons of his shirt. "I want to feel you," she whispered.

Before he could answer, she tugged at the cloth, popping the b.u.t.tons. As he watched, she parted the fabric and laid her head against his naked chest.

Her cheek was cool against his feverish skin, her hair brushing against him like softest down. He rested one hand atop her head and closed his eyes again, savoring the moment.

She turned her head, rubbing her face against his chest hair. His heart pounded and every nerve hummed with desire. He felt heat and dampness and realized she was trailing kisses across his chest. She found his nipple and slid her mouth over it, licking and suckling, driving him half-mad. He bit down on his fist to stifle the groan.

The most accomplished courtesan could not have aroused him more. Her innate pa.s.sion guided her; her lack of inhibition freed her to follow her feelings.

A burst of laughter right outside the door startled them. Abbie let out a small cry and jumped back. "Shhh." He lay a gentling hand on her shoulder. She looked toward the door and calmed. She must have realized, as he had, that the laughter came from the same group of revelers who had driven them into hiding in the first place.

Gently, he pulled her back to him. They clung together, waiting for the revelers to pa.s.s. Reg felt her heart pound and savored the sensation of her naked b.r.e.a.s.t.s against his chest.

"You. . . you don't think they heard anything, do you?" she whispered.

He looked down. Her eyes were wide in the dim light. She looked very young, and very innocent. He had been prepared to take advantage of that innocence, despite the hurt he might bring her later. "No, I don't think they heard." Gently reluctantly he pushed her away from him and wrapped his coat about her naked beauty. He turned his back and began to b.u.t.ton up his shirt. "You'd best see to your dress."

"Reg." He clenched his teeth as she laid a hand on his shoulder. "Reg, we don't have to stop. I mean. . . I could come back to your room. . . " The words ended in a question. It took every ounce of will not to turn to face her once more. But if he looked at her, he might surrender to the desire that clawed at him like a wild animal. He shook his head. "No. I will take you back to your room."

She took her hand away. "But "

"Abbie, get dressed."

Even to him, the words sounded harsh. But he couldn't summon the composure to soften them. If he so much as looked at her again, he feared he would forget all propriety and morals and duty. They would become empty words in the face of his longing for her.

He listened to the sounds of her getting dressed the rustle of silk, the slide of wet fabric against wet skin. Closing his eyes, he inhaled her damp lavender perfume, torturing himself with the aroma.

"All right, I'm ready." Her voice was steady, angry even. He breathed more easily better angry than wounded. But then he might have known Abbie would never succ.u.mb to hysterics.

Avoiding her gaze, he opened the door and looked out. The hallway was empty, silent. He held the door wide and allowed her to pa.s.s, then followed her down the pa.s.sage to their rooms, which were side by side at the end.

"Thank you for dinner," she said, her gaze fixed on the gilt numbers on her door. "And for your coat." She slipped the garment from her shoulders and handed it to him, only the flush of her cheeks betraying any emotion.

"Good night," he said as she put her hand on the k.n.o.b. He leaned on the doorjamb, his shadow looming over her. He wanted her still; he would not stop wanting her for a long time. "Abbie."

Her eyes met his, wary.

"Lock your door. The adjoining one, too."

She flushed bright red then, but nodded, and slipped inside. Reg pushed himself upright and went in search of the hotel bar.

Chapter Seventeen.

Abbie left her ruined dress in a heap by the door and slipped under the covers without turning up the lamp. Maura snored softly from her own bed across the room. Abbie buried her head under the quilts and let loose the sobs that choked her. Fool! she silently berated herself. How could she have thrown herself at Reg that way?

He had not even been able to look at her while they dressed. He must be disgusted, she thought. She was disgusted with herself, that she had let her emotions overcome her common sense.

She sniffed and dried her eyes on a corner of the sheet. The first part of the evening had gone so well; they had been having fun, even. She'd enjoyed looking at the lights, seeing a part of Amarillo she'd never known existed. Reg had been so dashing, offering his coat against the evening chill. And the rain even that had been fun in its own way, running through the streets barefooted, being swept up into his arms and carried into the alley.

She'd felt so safe in his arms, so. . . cared for. She closed her eyes against a cascade of fresh tears. Then those other feelings had started she'd become aware of his broad chest, and felt the muscles of his shoulders shift beneath her cheek. He smelled of starched linen and shaving lotion, and another subtle scent she could only think of as male.

She could have stayed in his arms forever, luxuriating in the feel of his body close to hers. When they'd fled the prying eyes of those people in the hall, she'd enjoyed the conspiracy of hiding out with him. And then she had looked into his eyes and seen the same desire she felt for him. Kissing him seemed the most natural, most wonderful thing in the world. And kissing had led to touching, and a whole host of new and exciting sensations.

Reg had wanted her as much as she had wanted him. Surely he had. Even when they'd parted just now, she'd glimpsed regret and longing in his eyes. So why had he refused her?

They were both adults, free to make their own decisions. If they both wanted each other, why was it so wrong for them to satisfy their desires?

Yet, something had happened to make Reg change his mind. Something she'd done, or said. . . or something else altogether?

She admitted she was ignorant in the ways of men and women. Oh, she knew the basics of breeding you didn't grow up on a ranch without figuring that out at an early age. She'd heard a few bawdy stories around the campfire, too, when the men thought she wasn't listening. But she didn't really know what a man and a woman were supposed to act like when they were in love.

She sat up in bed and opened her eyes wide in the dark. Was she in love with Reg? They were obviously physically attracted to each other, but surely it wasn't anything more than that. After all, they were so unsuited for each other. He was arrogant. (But didn't she have her pride, too?) He was totally ignorant about ranching. (But he was learning.) He was accustomed to fine manners and fine living. (Surely he hadn't seen much of that as a sailor. And what about his time in India?) She hugged her arms across her chest. Maybe she and Reg weren't so different after all. They were both outsiders of a sort he because he was a foreigner, she because she was a woman. They were both stubborn, but willing to learn. They thought alike on a lot of things cattle breeding, for instance.

Maybe she was in love with Reg. But that didn't mean he was in love with her. For whatever reason, he'd turned away from her tonight, and he still intended to return to England at the end of the year. The only chance she'd had in her life for love and he was leaving. She flopped back down on the bed and pounded the pillow. It was so unfair!

So what was she going to do about it? Hadn't her father taught her to look for a solution to every problem? "You have to learn to fix things yourself, girl. You can't count on other folks always doing it for you," he'd said. He'd been showing her how to mend a fence at the time, but surely that advice could work for her relationship with Reg as well. There had to be a way to 'fix' things between them. She couldn't let him leave without at least making the effort.

Reg arrived at Abbie's door the next morning after a sleepless night, determined to make a proper apology for his behavior the night before. He'd been wrong to let things progress as far as they had. The last thing he'd meant to do was hurt her, which was exactly why he'd stopped when he had. As soon as he explained that to her, he was sure, being the practical, sensible woman that she was, she would understand. Things could return to normal between them, except that he wasn't certain what 'normal' was for him and Abbie. She'd been throwing him off balance since the day they'd met. He feared he was beginning to enjoy that precarious state of affairs entirely too much.

A stern-faced Maura answered his knock. "I'd like to speak to Abbie," he said.

"She isn't in."

He frowned. She was out very early. "Where is she?"

Maura studied the toes of her shoes. "I'm not certain she'll be wanting to speak with you this mornin', m'lord."

Reg stiffened. "And why is that?"

"It's you who should be tellin' me, m'lord." She cut her eyes up to him. "Maybe it's not me place to say, but I coulda sworn the young Miss looked as if she'd spent the night crying. And then I find her new dress in a sodden heap on the floor and not one word she has to say about her evening, does she? It seems to me if a young lady has a fine dinner with a gentleman, she'd be in a mood to talk about it. But Miss Abbie was up and out of here without so much as a fare thee well this morning." Reg's stomach clenched at the thought of Abbie crying because of him. "Did she say where she was going?"

The look Maura gave him now was an outright glare. "It's hoping I am that you haven't done anything to hurt the young lady."

"We had a. . . a misunderstanding." He swallowed hard. "Maura, please. Tell me where she went and I promise I will apologize at once."

She hesitated, then gave a curt nod. "She went to the stables, to rent a horse."

The clerk at the hotel desk informed him that the closest stables was J&B livery. Reg walked the three blocks to this establishment at a rapid clip, rehearsing in his mind what he would say to Abbie when he saw her again. He only hoped he could locate her before he lost his nerve.

After determining that Abbie had indeed procured a riding horse from the livery, Reg paid double for the fastest mount in the place and rode out toward the edge of town. He had a feeling Abbie would head for open prairie and the kind of terrain that looked like home.

He found her on a creek bank south of town, drumming her heels against a piebald mare's flanks and cursing under her breath. The animal paid her little heed, but continued to move along at a slow walk. "Good morning," Reg called when he was still a little ways from her. He still recalled the gun she'd pulled on him during their first encounter. Depending on how angry she was over last night, she might try more of the same.

She looked up and her frown deepened, but she made no move toward a weapon of any kind. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

"We need to talk," he said, reining in beside her.

She nodded, and turned her attention back to her horse. "I thought a ride would clear my head, but then the only horse they'd rent me was grandma here." The horse rolled its eyes back toward them, and continued chomping gra.s.s. "And they made me use this dad-blamed sidesaddle."

Reg bit back a smile at her tone of disdain. Abbie looked quite the lady, perched on the western sidesaddle, but it obviously did not suit her.

"I notice they gave you a decent horse," she said.

"I paid double."

"So would I have, but the man said this was the only horse suitable for a 'lady.'" She scowled. "I tried to tell him I'd been riding since I could walk, but he wouldn't hear of it. He said a woman riding astride would be indecent."

"Perhaps you should have tried another stable."

"I was so anxious to get out of town for a while I couldn't wait." She leaned forward and stroked the mare's neck. "Reg, about last night"

"I handled the situation poorly," he said. "I want to apologize."

"You didn't do anything wrong."

He stared at the ground. "I never should have kissed you. I should have controlled my pa.s.sions "

"I wanted you to kiss me."

He swallowed hard. "Nevertheless, I shouldn't have taken advantage of your innocence."

"I'm not as innocent as you'd like to think, Reg. I didn't want to stop."

She looked at him, her eyes dark with desire. His heart began to pound. "Surely you realize we could not have continued."

"Why not?" She leaned toward him, until her face was only inches from his. Her lavender scent washed over him, intoxicating. "We're both adults. Why did we have to stop something we both enjoy?"

He could feel beads of perspiration forming on the back of his neck. He gripped the reins until the leather bit into his gloved hands. "Abbie, as much as I am . . . attracted to you, you must realize a relationship between us is impossible. You have been clear about your intentions to marry Alan Mitch.e.l.l, who is also a friend of mine. I could never betray his friendship. And you know I have an obligation to return to England when my year here is over. I am patently unsuited for life as a rancher, while you are the consummate cattle woman."

She nodded, cool and calm as ever. "Those are all sensible reasons why we cannot marry," she said. "But I don't see why that should keep us from becoming lovers in the time you have remaining here." She smiled. "After all, you promised to teach me."

The breath went out of him, as if he'd been struck. "I promised to teach you the things a lady needs to know."

"And a wife doesn't a wife need to know those things, too?"

He could feel the heat of his face burning red. "It is a husband's privilege to teach his wife such things," he said stiffly.

Her smile broadened. She appeared to enjoy his discomfort. "And where do husbands learn what they teach?"

"That is beside the point."

"No it's not." She thumped one foot against her saddle. "The idea that men can do anything they want before marriage, while a woman can't have any fun is as ridiculous as that livery stable owner making me ride sidesaddle."

He frowned. "But you might become pregnant." There was an argument she couldn't counter.

She looked him in the eye. "You've traveled all over the world, Reg. Surely you've learned a thing or two in that time to prevent that."

He gasped. Was the woman completely without inhibition? "Well, yes. . . there are ways," he admitted.

"Then I don't see what your problem is."

"s.e.x is not a game," he snapped. "Despite what men, and yes, I include myself, have sometimes made it."

"Then what is it?" Her expression grew solemn. "Is it only for breeding, like with animals?"

"No. It is. . . " He struggled for words. He'd never thought about it much before last night. He'd had long sleepless hours to consider why he had pulled away from Abbie there on the stairs. He had had affairs before, even a mistress in India. But none of those women had touched him the way Abbie had. She was more to him than a casual fling. Some part of him realized he could not join himself to her without committing part of his soul to her care a part of himself he could not afford to surrender, only to leave it behind when the time came for him to go. "When a man and a woman come together, it can be the deepest commitment they can make," he said solemnly. He looked away from her pleading eyes. "I can't make that commitment right now, Abbie."

"Not to me."

The words were a statement, not a question. Sadness weighted him down at the words. "I haven't done a very good job of apologizing," he said. "This has nothing to do with you."

"I wish I could believe that."

"Believe it."

"We won't talk about it anymore." She turned her horse onto the road back to town. "Come on. I think we have a train to catch."

The trip home was more solemn than the journey to Amarillo, though no less civil. Abbie and Reg managed to act as if nothing unusual had pa.s.sed between them while they were away. If Maura was puzzled by their behavior, she made no comment, though Abbie caught the maid studying her with a curious expression on her face.

Abbie sat on the Chesterfield sofa and stared out the window at the darkened countryside rolling past. She felt as if her life was moving by just as swiftly; she had as much chance of slowing it down as she would stopping the train.

Her conversation with Reg this morning hadn't ended the way she'd hoped; he was no closer to admitting any feelings for her, and he steadfastly refused to deepen their relationship, even temporarily. He'd said his decision had nothing to do with her, but how could she believe otherwise?

She wouldn't try to deny the truth, no matter how much it hurt. Reg didn't love her. All his talk of protecting her virtue and respecting his friendship with Alan was just another way of saying that.

She swallowed tears and jerked the curtain shut. Fine. If that was the way he felt, she wouldn't beg for his attention. She'd go on as she always had, running her ranch, looking after herself. She didn't need a man's help or a man's company. She didn't need Reg.

The train arrived in Fairweather early the next morning. Abbie felt her spirits lift as she stepped onto the platform. She inhaled deeply of the sage-tinged air and smiled. Home. It was as if she left part of herself behind every time she went away from this place. Coming back was like putting all the pieces together again.