The Lone Rancher

Chapter Eight

Quin meant exactly what he said. He wanted to be flesh to flesh and heart to heart with Adrianna so badly that he ached from his eyebrows to the soles of his feet. Nothing was going to make that ache go away except being as close as he could get to this green-eyed beauty.

Quin peeled off her blouse, kissing every inch of satiny flesh he exposed. Each time she whimpered his name—first Cahill, then Quin—he smiled in satisfaction. He watched her blush in the lantern light as he cast aside her blouse, then her breeches. He couldn’t recall a time in his life when he’d found himself in bed with a woman that he wanted to spend so much time admiring. Her luscious curves and swells intrigued him to the extreme. She was erotic perfection and he wanted to know her soft body better than she knew it herself, wanted to discover what made her moan in pleasure and what made her writhe with urgent need.

“Give me your clothes, now,” she demanded as she grabbed hold of his open shirt.

“They’re too big for you,” he teased, then splayed his hand over her belly and slid his fingertips lower, making her groan in torment.

“I want you out of them, damn it,” she rasped shakily.

“Tsk, tsk,” he chastised in a playful tone. “That’s no language for a blue-blooded lady to use.”

Then he lowered his hand to trace the hot folds between her legs and she nearly came off the bed.

“Quin…” she panted breathlessly. “Please…”

“Now, was begging so hard?” he murmured, then dipped his head to trace her moist flesh with his tongue.

He heard Adrianna struggle to draw breath as he eased her legs farther apart to glide his fingertip inside her. He felt her burning around him and he kissed her intimately again. She dug her nails into his shoulders—and ripped the seam of his shirt in her impatience to undress him.

Quin made a feast of her supple body, amazed at how much pleasure he derived in pleasing her. But he became sidetracked when she stroked him through his breeches, then unfastened the placket to curl her hand around his throbbing length.

He wasn’t even sure how and when she eased him to his back to remove his trousers but he looked up to see her cedar-tree-green eyes twinkling with triumph at having him stark naked. She nearly finished him with erotic pleasure when she lowered her head and let her long hair caress his heaving chest while she took him into her mouth and suckled him.

Quin squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated on not passing out from the indescribable sensations assailing him. His entire body pulsated as she glided her thumb and forefinger up and down his shaft, then followed the titillating motion of her fingertips with her moist lips.

“Mercy!” he croaked, surprised at the odd sound of his own voice.

“My name is Adrianna, not Mercy,” she whispered against his throbbing erection.

“Adrianna…” he repeated on a wobbly breath. “Come here.”

She didn’t stop caressing him and he swore he would explode. He clamped his hands on her hips and turned her sideways. Then he braced himself on his forearms above her. Breathing hard, he stared down into that enchanting face and sparkling eyes that had invaded his dreams more times than he could count.

Quin angled his head to kiss her at the same moment that he pressed intimately against her. She was so hot and tight that he had to battle to prevent plunging recklessly into her. He moved slowly, gently, though it nearly killed him. She tensed slightly when he came into her, then she relaxed as he penetrated deeper. He savored the feel of her moist flesh closing around him until they were one pulsating essence.

When Quin lifted his head to make sure she was all right, she stared intently at him. Then she arched upward, moved restlessly against him, and he nearly lost his tentative grasp on his self-control.

“Adrianna…”

He didn’t know what he’d intended to say, but having her name roll off his tongue as he buried himself to the hilt said enough. He felt the fragile barrier give way, assuring him that he was her first experiment with passion. He liked knowing that, though he suspected this feisty, independent beauty would scoff at that possessive sentiment. She resented men’s restrictive expectations for women, he knew. She refused to be restrained in any manner and he wasn’t foolish enough to blunder into saying something like, Now you’re mine.

But he thought it as he moved rhythmically against her, feeling the scintillating sensations building one atop the other until the heated pleasure became so intense he swore he had burst into flame.

Her body quivered beneath his, around his. He heard her draw in a frantic breath as she clasped him tightly in her arms. Spasms of her climax echoed from her body into his, unleashing the passion he’d tried to hold in check.

Quin groaned as he shuddered helplessly against her. He buried his head in the silken strands of her chestnut hair that splayed across the bedspread, then he collapsed above her, holding her as tightly as she held on to him.

The frustration and tension that had clamored through him over the past few hours melted away with the rain pattering against the window. The storm had broken—the one outside and the one inside—he realized with a contented sigh. He was at peace for the first time in two years, though the world around him was still in exasperating turmoil. But here in Adrianna’s encircling arms, they were one body, one soul. Nothing could conquer him…except his obsessive fascination for her.

Honestly, Quin couldn’t understand why he’d settled for occasional, meaningless trysts with other women, because being with this spirited, alluring female was so much more satisfying in every way imaginable. Sure as hell, she was going to ruin him, for he couldn’t be satisfied merely scratching the proverbial itch again.

When she shifted beneath him, Quin eased away to give her space. When she tried to inch off the bed, he draped his arm over her hip.

“Stay with me, Adrianna…please….”

He could feel her smile against his lips when she kissed him and said, “Now was that so hard, Cahill?”

Then she settled down to sleep beside him all through the night and Quin couldn’t recall being so utterly content. The room he’d left untouched for two years became his room, and having Boston here with him felt right.

He wondered what she’d say if he told her that? Quin grinned drowsily. She’d probably call him a sentimental sap…and—God forbid!—he’d have to agree with her.



When Adrianna awoke the next morning, she was alone in bed, as she had been all twenty-five years of her life. She stretched leisurely, remembering the amazing sensations she had experienced with Quin. A blush crept up her neck to stain her cheeks when she recalled how wild and reckless she’d been with Quin. Something had changed last night, she mused. She had changed. Drastically.

Furthermore, she didn’t care what rumors were chasing each other around Ca-Cross now that she had taken up residence at 4C until her home aired out. She was close enough to her ranch to oversee the rebuilding of the new addition and the breeding operation of her prize cattle. If she moved to town, she’d waste time traveling back and forth.

Besides that, she’d miss sleeping with Quin.

Rolling from bed, Adrianna freshened up, then dressed in her breeches. She was grateful the hall was empty when she strode toward the stairs. Although her entourage had taken up the rooms once used by Quin’s two brothers and sister, Adrianna didn’t hear any movement behind the closed doors. However, she did hear furniture scraping against the wood floor as she descended the staircase.

Puzzled, she poked her head around the corner of the parlor to see Quin scooting his father’s leather chair to a new position, allowing space for the sofa and chair he had transported from her house. The styles of furniture clashed but that didn’t seem to bother Quin.

“What are you doing?” she asked as she entered the room.

His silvery gaze ran the length of her body, reminding her that they had been as close as two people could get the previous night. She would have described his look as possessive, but she knew Quin didn’t think in terms of possession just because he’d slept with a woman.

No strings, she reminded herself. Last night was about desire and erotic pleasure. She was not the kind of woman who needed commitment from a man. She was a free-spirited adventuress, after all, and Quin Cahill was devoted to the success and expansion of the family ranch. Married to it, you might say.

“This furniture wasn’t too smoke damaged so I’m including it in the room…to make you feel at home,” he added belatedly.

She observed him for a long, contemplative moment. This man, who strenuously objected to change, was making marked changes in here? Just as he had taken up residence in the master suite last night? Good heavens, who knew what this hidebound traditionalist might decide to do next!

“Yoo-hoo! Breakfast is ready,” Elda called from the kitchen door.

Adrianna scurried to the dining room. “I’ve missed Elda’s delicious meals,” she told Quin, then added confidentially, “Her attempt to spy on you wasn’t very informative, anyway. I’m ready to have her back.”

He grinned and another chunk of her heart crumbled down her rib cage. Honest to goodness, Quin Cahill could become a ladies’ man if he really tried, she decided. His boyish smile could warm the coldest of hearts—and Adrianna had packed hers in ice the past few years so she wouldn’t become susceptible to the ploys of gold diggers and greedy adventurers. But now she was in danger of losing her heart to Quin.

Be sensible, Boston, she lectured herself sternly, unaware she had referred to herself by the same name Quin used. She wasn’t playing for keeps, she mused as she took her seat at the table. She’d had her fun with Quin and he’d had his with her. This was her temporary residence. She would enjoy him, then walk away. It’s what Quin expected—and she had better not let herself forget that.



Later that afternoon, Adrianna and Quin investigated the site of the fire. Unfortunately, they couldn’t tell if it had been set deliberately or if it was the result of a lightning strike. True, the peak of the new addition was the highest point on the hill and had yet to be equipped with a lightning rod. The storm could have ignited the fire, she supposed. However, instinct warned her that something else was going on that had nothing to do with Mother Nature hurling random lightning bolts at the earth.

“Should we contact Marshal Hobbs?” she wondered aloud.

“No, not yet,” Quin murmured pensively.

“Then the next order of business is to question my ranch hands,” she declared as she spun around to head to the barn.

“I questioned my men already,” Quin reported. “They said they saw the fire from the bunkhouse and came to lend a hand.”

Adrianna received the same information from her cowboys when she interrogated them. Everyone on hand had grabbed buckets to douse the fire, they claimed. No one had spotted her former foreman or other suspicious characters skulking around the house.

“That doesn’t mean someone wasn’t sneaking around here.” Quin fell into step beside her while she checked her Herefords and the black shorthorn bulls that had arrived recently.

“The timing was too convenient. With the party in town, and only a few cowboys on hand, it would have been easy to start the fire and duck out of sight during the gathering storm and darkness.” Adrianna frowned speculatively as she veered toward Buckshot’s stall in the barn. “I want to check my longhorns and my other herd of Herefords. Maybe the fire was a diversion for more rustling.”

“I need to check my livestock, too.” Quin grabbed her saddle and tossed it on the dapple-gray gelding’s back for her. “Take Rocky with you, in case you have trouble. I’ll meet you at 4C after I check my pastures.”

He dropped a hasty kiss to her lips, turned away and then wheeled around to kiss her again. Then he walked off.

Adrianna brushed her fingertips over her mouth, surprised by Quin’s impulsive display of affection. Affection? Is that what it is? Or is this how a man behaves after bedding a woman? Adrianna didn’t have a clue, since this was her first clandestine affair.

“Blast it, there should be an instruction manual for handling affairs properly,” she grumbled to Buckshot as she stuffed her booted foot in the stirrup.

She could name on two hands various women in Boston who flitted from one tryst to another, while juggling their loveless marriages. It was all so pretentious. Adrianna was glad her Western-style affair with Quin was uncomplicated. Especially considering the complications life kept tossing in her path while she faced the challenges of establishing herself as a credible and successful female rancher.

“Rocky?” she called to her new foreman. “Will you ride north with me to check the herds?”

The cowboy, who was about Quin’s age, set aside the block of hay he was tossing to the penned Herefords. He ambled over to mount his horse. Then he raked his hand through his sandy-blond hair and set his straw hat in place.

“Are we looking for anything in particular, ma’am?”

“Counting heads to see if someone stole a few cattle while we were distracted by dousing the fire.”

His pale blue eyes narrowed in self-deprecation. “I should’ve thought of that early this morning.” He waited a beat, then glanced questioningly at her. “Is Cahill upset with me for taking this job? He was always fair with me. Don’t want hard feelings if I can help it.”

“No, he got Elda in the swap.” Adrianna grinned broadly. “Cahill is in culinary paradise and I acquired the best foremen in the state.”

The cowboy blushed, chuckled, then said. “And I have the prettiest boss in the whole country. You’ll hear no complaints about the good deal I got.”

Although Adrianna was sensitive to comments about being known for her looks and wealth rather than her intelligence, she decided not to call him out. She wasn’t about to lose the best foreman a rancher could have. Quin would have to make do with second best because she needed Rocky’s expertise to make a good start.



Quin swore two blue streaks when he counted the calves in the pasture near the place called Comanche Bluff, a former Comanche campground—the site Lucas Burnett had tried to buy because of its sentimental value to him. Although Quin had told Burnett he could visit the site any time he pleased, he knew his friend hadn’t rustled his cattle. But someone had taken advantage during the town party and the fire.

When he returned to headquarters, it was time for supper and Boston’s long-legged, dapple-gray gelding wasn’t in the barn. His first impulse was to race off to locate her. The recent rustling, the butchered calf and the fires were making him edgy and suspicious. However, he hesitated in thundering off to check on Boston and risk offending her independent streak. Of all the women he knew, she was the only one who didn’t appreciate being fussed over.

Too bad he hadn’t noticed how independent his kid sister had become while underfoot, he mused regretfully. Maybe she wouldn’t have gotten into trouble by trying to prove she could survive in the world without him standing over her. Now she was in Deadwood—of all places!—raising a child alone, if that obnoxious Preston Van Slyck was to be believed.

Quin intended to drive his cattle to the railhead in Dodge—if rustlers didn’t steal the rest of his herd—then ride north to check on Leanna. He was going to drag her home, kicking and screaming if he had to.

“Cahill, a word, please.”

Quin glanced over to see Hiram Butler standing on the stoop. He jogged to the house to stare quizzically at Boston’s man of affairs. “What’s wrong now?”

“At the moment? Nothing that I know of,” Butler replied. “I wondered if I might place my employers’ money and important papers in your safe. I refused to leave it at the abandoned house for someone to swipe while we were away.”

“Certainly. Glad to help.”

Quin strode swiftly to the office to open the cabinet that held the safe. He frowned, bemused, when Butler entered the office carrying Adrianna’s hatbox.

“Boston has a money hat? I thought most heiresses had money trees.”

Hazel eyes drilled into him, clearly unamused by the teasing comment. “Why do you insist on calling Adrianna ‘Boston’?” Butler demanded grouchily.

“Because it amuses me.”

“You have a peculiar sense of humor, Cahill.”

“Why do you go by Butler, Hiram? You know everyone assumes you are the butler.”

The older man retrieved several stacks of banknotes from the box, along with cashbooks and ledgers he handled as if they were solid gold. “You can tell a great deal about a man’s depth of character when he thinks you’re a servant,” Butler replied. “I used the tactic constantly while interviewing agents who wanted the McKnights to invest with them.”

“Subtle,” Quin remarked. “I like it.”

After Quin locked away the banknotes, ledgers and official-looking papers, he heard the front door open and shut. For the first time in two years, he wasn’t the only one going in and out of it, he realized. Temporarily, he qualified. When Boston’s home aired out she and her entourage—Elda included—would ride off. Quin would rattle around in silence again. It was a dispiriting thought.

“Cahill!” Boston called from the foyer.

“In the office,” he called back. When she breezed through the door he raised a curious brow. “Did you have cattle stolen, just as I did?”

She nodded her disheveled head. “A dozen longhorns. We found them in a box canyon, waiting to be driven away. Did you find yours?”

Quin shook his head. “I’ll make a thorough search tomorrow. Hopefully, I can recover them.”

He noticed the folded paper in her hand. “What’s this, an invitation to another party? Ca-Cross must be the new social hub of the state. Imagine that.”

Butler rolled his eyes and said, “Ah, another attempt at humor. It, too, failed, I see.”

“A young Mexican boy, riding a mule, came to the house the same time I did,” Boston explained as she extended her hand. “He asked me to deliver this note to you.”

He absently took the note while Butler informed Boston that her ready cash and documents were secure in the safe. Quin unfolded the paper, then cursed in disbelief when he read the hastily scrawled, unsigned message.

“Now what’s happened?” Boston asked worriedly.

Quin sat down at his desk before he fell down in stunned amazement. He felt as if someone had kicked him in the chest, for he could barely catch his breath and his mind was spinning like a pinwheel. Dazed, he handed the message to Boston.

“It can’t be!” she howled.

“What in the blazes…?” Butler hooted as he looked over her shoulder to read the missive.

The room spun and Quin struggled to wrap his thoughts around the shocking claim mentioned in the note.



Your parents’ wagon wreck was no accident. Come alone to Phantom Springs at eight o’clock tonight. Bring two thousand dollars and you will have the information you need.





“No accident?” Quin wheezed unsteadily. “What does that mean? Murder? Manslaughter? How? Why?”

Boston and Butler shrugged helplessly while Quin reread the note—three times.

“Why send this note two years later?” Boston questioned warily.

“This might be a cunning scheme to prey on your emotions and extort money,” the accountant speculated.

Boston eased a hip onto the edge of the desk, then leaned toward him, forcing him to raise his downcast head and acknowledge her. “I don’t think you should go, Cahill,” she advised. “This note has disaster written all over it.”

“I agree with her,” Butler chimed in. “Given the rustling, butchering and fires in this area, this note is too suspicious. Just another way to separate you from your money.”

Anger and frustration roiled inside Quin. “What if it was a robbery turned disaster, not a hapless accident? My parents might still be alive and nothing would have changed on the 4C,” he said, more to himself than anyone else. “There wouldn’t be a rift between my brothers and sister and me. Although Bowie had already left home to tame the rough towns in Deer County, Chance and Leanna might have delayed their departure, instead of flying off on the wings of an argument.”

Boston laid her hand on his rigid shoulder. “Quin, are you all right?”

“Hell, no!” he burst out. He stared into space, reliving the anguish of losing both parents suddenly and the torment of the angry argument with his surviving family. Not to mention the grief and guilt that constantly plagued him because he had waylaid on the cattle drive to indulge in selfish pleasure.

A robbery attempt on his parents might not have been so easy if he had been on hand that fateful evening. Or the outcome might have turned out differently if Bowie or Chance had accompanied their parents to Wolf Grove that day. Another set of eyes and ears and an expert shooter might have made a difference between life and death.

“If it was a robbery attempt gone wrong, then I want to know the details,” he muttered harshly. “I want to know who was responsible for killing my parents.”

Boston clasped her hands around Quin’s and got right in his face. “You go traipsing off to Phantom Springs, carrying that much money to meet who knows how many thieves that might set upon you, you’ll end up dead.”

“She’s right, you know,” Butler chimed in, his expression grim. “This might be a clever trap designed specifically to plot your murder. You have no way of knowing if there is one or five scoundrels waiting to attack.”

Quin pulled his hands from Boston’s grasp, then scraped his fingers through his tousled hair. He tried to think logically. Boston and Butler were right, of course. There were all sorts of potential pitfalls awaiting him. But if his parents had been a target of robbery, because they were driving a wagon heaped with supplies, then Quin had to know. He wanted justice and he wanted revenge for the way his family had been torn apart and for depriving his parents of years of life!

When Quin bolted to his feet, Boston blew out an agitated breath. “Do not do this, Cahill.”

He stared at her somberly for a long moment. “If the situation were reversed and you learned one or both of your parents had been victims of a fatal crime, would you want to know?”

“Of course.” She met his gaze head-on. “But racing off in the dark, with a fistful of money, doesn’t guarantee you’ll receive any valuable information.” She flung out her hand in frustration. “What if I received a note offering information about who stole my Herefords and planted them in your pasture? What if the sender named you as the guilty party? That wouldn’t make it necessarily so, would it? We are discussing outlaws, Cahill. They have no credibility.”

“Unless this unidentified informant saw or overheard what happened to my parents and wants traveling money so he can hightail it out of the county before he’s hunted down and silenced,” Quin speculated.

“He makes a valid point,” Butler said to Boston.

“Valid or not, I still don’t like it,” she grumbled.

“Neither do I,” Butler admitted. “It’s too dangerous.”

Boston crossed her arms over her chest and stared unblinkingly at Quin. “Then it’s settled. You are not going.”

“You and Butler don’t get a vote,” he said dictatorially.

He lurched toward the cabinet, then hunkered down to retrieve the money from the safe.

“Be careful that you don’t take Adrianna’s money for this foolhardy crusade of yours,” Butler said, and scowled.

Quin glanced over his shoulder and smiled faintly. “I have plenty on hand since I withdrew money from the bank last week to make payroll. Not to worry, Hiram.”

“Dinner is served,” Beatrice announced from the hall. “It’s one of Elda’s mouthwatering specialties.”

“Tell Elda we’ll be there directly.” Boston turned back to Quin. “If you insist on this dangerous folly, then I’m going with you.”

Quin stared her down. “No, you aren’t,” he said slowly and succinctly. “I expressly forbid it. This is not your concern, Boston.”

She tilted her chin to a defiant angle. “Yes, it is. You are our gracious host. If you get yourself robbed and killed, then where are we supposed to go? My house hasn’t aired out completely. And I’m not going to ride back and forth from town to see how many cattle were rustled during the night. You do not invite guests to your home, then get yourself ambushed. If you had proper Eastern manners you would know that.”

He almost smiled at her sassy retort, but the possibility of his parents being senselessly killed for money and a wagonload of supplies weighed heavily on his disposition.

“Think it over during supper,” she insisted as she whirled toward the hall. “Maybe delicious food and time will bring you back to your senses.”

When Butler turned to leave, Quin said, “Hiram, I know you don’t like me much but I need a favor.”

Butler pivoted around to give Quin the evil eye. “I wouldn’t like any man who slept with Adrianna, especially one who wasn’t married to her.”

Quin shifted uncomfortably beneath Butler’s narrow-eyed glare. Then a thought occurred to him and he smiled wryly. “But you’re going to keep silent and grant my favor because you are sleeping with Bea. You don’t want me to throw it in your face, do you?”

Butler scowled. “What’s the favor, Cahill?”

“Make sure Boston doesn’t follow me tonight.”

Butler nodded, then headed for the door. “I had planned to do that without a prompt from you, Cahill. Consider it done.”

When Butler exited, Quin tucked the stack of money in the bottom desk drawer for safekeeping. He was going to meet the mysterious informant tonight, come hell or high water—or both.

There was nothing Boston could do to stop him, short of shooting him down, before someone else beat her to it.