The Wilde Bunch. Barbara Boswell
The headlights of the Jeep lighted the gravelly road leading to the ranch house. Kara saw clusters of tall, thick evergreens horseshoed on three sides of the house—to protect it from the sweep of blustery winter winds, according to Mac. The house itself was a sprawling stone-and-wood one-story structure with a wide porch spanning the front.
Lights blazed from every window, illuminating the landscaped bushes, shrubs and small ornamental trees surrounding the paved stone walk leading from the circular drive to the front door.
“Home, sweet home,” Mac said drolly. “I can hear the welcoming cacophony already.”
He was exaggerating, of course. From the confines of the car, Kara could hear nothing at all. The apprehension that had been gnawing at her for miles erupted into a surging force. She was in the middle of nowhere, miles from the only person she knew in the state of Montana! And she was about to face a tribe of brats, so monstrous that their own blood relative was willing to marry a perfect stranger in an attempt to cope with them.
She turned to Mac, feeling as desperate as he must have felt when he’d shelled out the money for her plane ticket. She couldn’t spend the night in his home! The idea of such intimacy sparked a nerve-tingling anxiety that was one part fear and three parts excitement. Oddly, the excitement was more disturbing than the fear.
“Mac, please, I—I can’t do this. Please, please take me to Uncle Will’s tonight.”
Mac studied her face, which was a picture of distress. Her enormous hazel eyes were filled with tears, her lips were quivering. “You make me feel like a rat,” he murmured. “Scaring a pretty young woman, making her cry. Damn, I am a rat!”
He reached out to trace the sensual curve of her warm full lips. Remembering the feel of that sweet mouth under his and remembering her immediate and passionate responses to him caused a tightening ache in his loins.
“I—I’m not crying,” Kara protested, but her voice quavered. She lifted her hand to remove his from her mouth. His touch was unsettling, exciting. She craved it as much as she feared it.
Mac succeeding in interlacing her fingers with his. She watched, wide-eyed, as he brought her hand to his cheek and held it there. His skin was slightly stubbled and sensually abrasive to her already overcharged senses.
Her heart jumped. She had to get away from him before...before... Kara trembled. “I—I just want to—”
“I know, I know,” he soothed. “You’ve been very brave, considering the way you were caught off guard by—uh—the plan. You’ve been a helluva good sport, Kara. I’m sorry you’re upset. Damn, I’m worse than a rat, I’m a flea on a rat for upsetting you.”
“It isn’t really your fault,” Kara acknowledged charitably. “Uncle Will should have told me the whole story right from the start. Then we would have been spared this unfortunate mis—”
“—understanding,” Mac chimed in.
Their eyes met and they smiled at each other. Once again, her smile had a peculiar effect on him. Mac felt a possessive urgency shoot through him. He wanted her. He certainly hadn’t expected to be aroused by his mail-order bride, but for the children’s sake—and his own—he’d been prepared to be a proper husband. It was a wonderful surprise to find himself attracted to her.
And it bolstered his determination to proceed with his plan.
“I’ll take you into town to the Rev’s place,” Mac said silkily. “But first, I’d like to check on the kids. See if Webb’s back yet. He ought to be by now. See if they’ve killed each other yet. Will you come inside while I do a body count?”
Relief flowed through her. There was no reason for her to be anxious and fearful, Mac was not going to force her to stay. He was a reasonable man, not a threatening one. Her fears had been for naught. A body count? His sardonic edge made her grin.
Calmer now, she had no problem granting his very reasonable request. “Of course I don’t mind waiting while you check on the children.”
Mac smiled his satisfaction. He had no intention of driving her back into town, though he didn’t know how he was going to get out of it, having just promised to do so. Well, he’d cross that bridge when the time came. Right now, he was elated that she’d agreed to come into the house. That was a major victory. Forcing her inside definitely would’ve been a tactical error.
He gazed into Kara’s warm, trust-filled eyes. She’d wholeheartedly believed his promise to take her into town. Had he called himself a flea on a rat? Mac decided that he was something even lower, which would probably make him a plague-carrying flea on a rat.
“Thank you, Mac,” Kara said warmly. “And don’t worry, I’m sure the children are getting along just fine.”
“I bet you believe the weather predictions in the Farmer’s Almanac, too.”
She chuckled appreciatively. “Meanwhile, I’ll call Uncle Will and tell him where I am and when I’ll be arriving at his house.” She made no reference to his claim regarding Tricia’s allergy to cats; she still wasn’t sure she believed him on that one. It was just a little too convenient for his purpose.
“Good idea. Call the Rev.” Mac got out of the Jeep and came around to open the passenger door for her, every inch the chivalrous gentleman. He even took her arm and helped her climb out. His fingers lingered, rubbing from her shoulder to her elbow, then sliding along to take her hand. He raised it to his lips, lightly brushing her fingertips. “Welcome to the Double R, Kara,” he said, smiling into her eyes.
Kara’s knees felt strangely weak. She was lost in his deep, dark eyes.
“Shall we bring the cat inside?” Mac asked solicitously.
It took a moment or two for his words to penetrate the dreamy cloud enveloping her. “Y-Yes, maybe he’d better come in. Even a few minutes alone out there would be too terrifying for Tai.”
“My thoughts, exactly.” Mac dropped her hand and reached for the cat carrier.
He and Kara walked onto the porch, Tai’s meows announcing their every step.
The door was unlocked. Mac pushed it open and Kara followed him inside.
They entered a room-size entry hall, its hardwood floor well-scuffed by foot traffic. The walls were painted a creamy beige, rather dull but functional. At the end of the vestibule, the hall narrowed to a passageway, leading to other parts of the house.
Kara looked around her. To the left was a closed door. A bit farther down, on the same side, she caught a glimpse into the dining room. A massive breakfront and long rectangular table almost filled the room.
To the right was an enormous room, a combination living room and den, dominated by a big granite fireplace. Above the fireplace was mounted the head of a moose. A baseball cap hung jauntily from one of its antlers. There was a wall of windows which undoubtedly offered a spectacular view during the daylight hours, although all that was visible now was the vast blackness of the night sky. The other walls were paneled with a dark wood, giving the room the feel of a rustic, oversize cabin.
A young boy and girl lay on big bright floor cushions in front of a large-screen television set. Neither child looked up when Mac and Kara entered. Not even Tai’s indignant howls drew a glance from them.
“There are Clay and Autumn,” Mac murmured. “They love TV. It’s the one thing that can keep them occupied for hours. I bought a satellite dish after they moved in so they could always find something to watch. We’ve seen everything from Mexican soap operas to rugby meets in Australia.”
He’d bought a satellite dish after the kids had arrived to keep them entertained? Kara pondered that one. Though she made no claims as an expert in child psychology, incessant TV-watching didn’t strike her as an ideal way to spend a childhood. What about reading and playing indoors and out, what about activities with other kids?
But