Page 40 of Wrangled Up

Her voice held something like wonder. Hadn’t Tucker ever told her how important she was in this world? Damn the man for worshipping a dead woman and ignoring the living.

Christian held out a hand to her. Her warm fingers clasped his, and he drew her off the horse’s back and into his arms. With all of his control stripped away, he locked his hands on her ass and lifted her against him even as he slammed his mouth onto hers.

She gasped at the contact. He drove his tongue between her lips, gathering her sweetness.

“You taste like oatmeal,” he growled and plunged in for more. A rushing noise in his ears might have been the wind ruffling the grasses, but was probably more like the blood flooding out of his head into his cock.

He pushed his shaft into her belly and she moaned in response. She knocked his hat off and cradled his head, angling her mouth to better receive his kisses.

The quiet rasp of his unshaven face against her silky skin set fire to his control, and any restraint went up in smoke.

“How charming.” A rough voice dug into the center of his psyche. Claire tore her mouth free, a tremor running through her.

That voice…so like Tucker’s, yet not his at all.

Christian swung toward the speaker and found two men leading horses. Now that he wasn’t drunk on lust, he noticed the whickers of Tucker’s horses, alerting him to the fact that two new stallions were in their midst.

He squeezed Claire’s waist and let her go. “Can I help you, gentlemen?”

The taller of the two narrowed his eyes and wrapped the reins more securely around his leather-clad fist. “I’m Leon Langley and this is my son Dale. Seems to me you folks are squatting in Tucker’s house.”

Christian didn’t like the way he said that. No, he did not. “He asked us to take care of his stock while he’s away.” Claire inched closer to his side.

Dale gave a start. “Away?” Suspicion dripped from each syllable.

“That’s right. Had some business up north.”

The strangers exchanged a glance. Leon released his reins and eased forward on boots that cost more than Christian’s entire wardrobe, plus Claire’s. The rustle of his leather drover coat probably wasn’t meant to be intimidating, yet Christian felt his menace.

“Listen, son.” Leon tipped his hat back so they could see his eyes. “This here is Langley land. Me and Tucker, we’re mixed up in deeds and coal contracts. So what happens on this land concerns me quite a bit. You understand?”

“Not following your train of thought, sir.” Christian squared his shoulders and looked the man in the eye.

“Don’t you think that my nephew would have mentioned he had business up north and that he’d asked two inexperienced and…impassionedfriends…” he swept Claire with a gaze that had Christian’s hands knotting, “…running the ranch?”

Christian shifted his weight, pressing his thigh up the length of Claire’s. She trembled. “Seems to me that Tucker would have mentioned an uncle and cousin living sonearby, if he held any stock in that familial connection.”

Dale gave a harsh laugh and the horse tethered behind Claire pawed the ground.

Leon’s glare was icy. “You watch your tongue, boy.”

“I’m no one’sboy, and I’d ask that you take up any trouble with Tucker. We’re just the ranch hands.” Christian took Claire’s forearm and turned her away. Accusing him of taking over the ranch didn’t set well at all. If he decided to take it up with the law, Christian had no proof that Tucker had asked them to keep his ranch running.

Then again, Christian, Claire and now Lettyweresquatting in his house, uninvited.

Without releasing Claire’s arm, he bent and swiped the water hose off the ground. Then he switched it on and trickled the flow over the horse’s hide. Behind him, the creak of leather and the stamp of horses moved away.

“They’re gone,” Claire whispered from the corner of her mouth.

Christian caressed her forearm and released her.

“I don’t know what to make of that conversation, but…I think he was threatening us or Tucker.”

“Or all,” he ground out. He had a feeling that if Leon went up to the house and saw Letty established in the kitchen, he’d shove the frail woman out the door. He dipped the scrub brush into the soapy water and employed it on the horse’s speckled flank.

“What are we going to do?” Claire’s voice dipped a notch, indicating her fear.

Christian caught her eye, wishing his hat wasn’t on the ground and the shadow of the brim could disguise any worry he couldn’t strain from his gaze. He’d texted Tucker numerous times just to check on him, and he hadn’t bothered to answer either those or Christian’s voicemails. Dammit, this wasn’t his problem. He’d gladly stand beside his friend in this fight, but he shouldn’t have to do it alone, operating half blind.

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