White Christmas: Woman Hater / The Humbug Man. Diana Palmer

each other badly,” he whispered in her ear, his voice deep and soft and slow. “You don’t have the experience to understand the risk, and I can’t be sure that I wouldn’t take out old hurts on you, even though I wouldn’t do it consciously. This is crazy.”

      “Yes.”

      He nuzzled his cheek against her hair. “I mean it, Nicky.”

      She sighed, reluctantly drawing away from him. She looked up, curious, excited. “Afraid of me, cattle baron?” she asked softly.

      “In a way,” he agreed unexpectedly, but he wasn’t smiling. He touched her cheek with the back of his fingers in a soft caress. “I don’t like to start things I can’t finish.”

      “Meaning?” she persisted. If it was digging her own emotional grave, she couldn’t help it. She had to know.

      He stared into her eyes for just a second, and then drew back, physically and emotionally. “You’ll figure it out. Don’t wander out of the yard when you go walking. One of the men thinks he spotted a wolf today. I don’t want anything to happen to you, little Eastern girl. I may never be your lover, but I’ll take care of you, all the same, while you’re here.”

      And with that surprising statement, he turned and walked off. Nicole stared after him with eyes that brimmed with unshed tears. He was very protective of her, and she wondered if he realized it. He wasn’t saying what he felt, but she knew instinctively that he shared some of the warm feeling that was growing inside her. But whether he’d ever give in to it was anyone’s guess. As for Nicole, it had shocked her to realize that she had none of her usual defenses when he was near her. And that realization kept her quiet all through supper and beyond bedtime. What an unexpectedly complicated thing this vacation of her boss’s had become. She hoped that she was going to be able to cope with the new and disturbing feelings that Winthrop had unearthed in her.

      Life sailed into a pleasant routine after that. She and Gerald settled down to work, and Nicole spent her free time exploring outdoors or watching Mary in the kitchen. Winthrop was pleasant enough, but he kept things cool, although from time to time she found those dark, quiet eyes watching her in a way that excited her beyond bearing.

      Two days later, she heard cattle bawling and excited male voices, and she succumbed to the need to see Winthrop. The cattle were massed at a makeshift corral just away from the barn and the stables, and Winthrop was on his horse, helping to drive cattle into a holding pen where they were apparently being vetted and vaccinated and examined and treated for diseases or infestation by grubs.

      That weak leg didn’t seem to bother the big man one bit on horseback. He could cut and rope with the best of them, and the wilder the horse, the better he seemed to enjoy himself. He laughed deeply and with obvious pleasure the whole time. She imagined that when he was in the saddle he could forget how ungraceful he was on the ground.

      Not that a limp made him any less a man. He bristled with masculine sensuality. She could see quite easily how he’d gained a reputation in his youth as a playboy. He was devastating physically, and he had a voice that even in memory could make her flush with pleasure. Her heart hadn’t been the same since that unexpected embrace on the porch. She could close her eyes and hear his voice all over again, as it had been that evening, and she could almost imagine it in a dark room, coaxing, deliberately seductive….

      Warmth coursed through her and she forced herself to watch the men and the cattle. Winthrop had climbed off the horse to help catch a calf, apparently one that needed doctoring. He looped his rope and undid it, lazily coiling it while one of the other cowboys threw the calf and began to do something to it. Winthrop was rubbing his leg, and the limp was even more pronounced when he turned, leading his horse by the reins.

      He saw Nicole at the fence, and he stood very still for an instant. She could feel his anger even at the distance, and made a discreet and quick withdrawal. He was headed in her direction, so she changed it and walked quickly into the forest that encircled the house.

      Why she should have been embarrassed, she didn’t know. But she knew he was angry, even before he caught up with her minutes later.

      She stopped, catching her breath. He was right behind her, still leading the horse. As he walked, he favored that right leg.

      “Running away?” he taunted. “Why?”

      She stared at him. It was silly to be so ill at ease with him, but his expression wasn’t at all welcoming. “I don’t know,” she said quietly. She was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved yellow sweater. He had on a shirt the same shade of yellow and brown as his jeans, and she thought illogically how well they matched.

      He lifted his dark head. “Don’t you? What are you doing—spying? Did you want to see if the cripple could still throw a calf?”

      She went forward without thinking and put her soft hand over his mouth. “Don’t,” she said softly. “Don’t do that to yourself. You’re not a cripple. You’re a man with a limp.”

      The feel of her fingers shocked him. The gesture was unexpected and it threw him off balance. He caught her smooth hand, holding it near his cheek as if he couldn’t quite decide what to do with it.

      He stood over her, breathing roughly, his eyes dark with pain and anger as they searched hers. His fingers contracted absently around hers, bruising a little, but she didn’t protest.

      “I don’t want you here,” he said quietly, his eyes narrow, piercing.

      “Yes, I know.” She moved her fingers experimentally, and he let them go. She touched his cheek, tracing the long scar down his jaw, into the dimple in his chin. It was incredible how secure she felt with him, and not the least bit afraid. She sensed something in him, something vulnerable and tender, and she wanted to reach it. She needed to reach it, although she didn’t understand why. “You don’t talk about it, do you? Not ever.”

      His broad chest rose and fell. He was very close. Too close. She could feel the muscles ripple when he moved, feel him breathing, feel the warmth of him in the chill air.

      His fingers slid into her hair, hesitantly, feeling the curls as he moved his hands to her nape and turned her head up with firm gentleness.

      “It’s been one hell of a long time since I kissed a woman,” he said half under his breath, looking down at her coldly. “Don’t you realize that you’ve been inviting that for days? I’m not a boy, and I’ve gone hungry in recent years. I can’t play games, I even told you so. You could start something that would ruin both our lives.”

      She let him pull her head back. She looked up at him unafraid, her eyes soft with understanding and compassion. “I’m not afraid of you,” she said softly.

      “I could make you afraid, Nicole.”

      His voice was velvety soft and deep. Her lips parted, because it was as sensuous as she’d imagined it would be. She liked being close to him. She wanted his mouth and her lips parted in subtle invitation. She might have imagined herself in love with Chase James, but never in her life had she felt anything as sweet as this.

      He looked down at her soft mouth, seeing it open, and something in him snapped. He bent quickly, covering it with his hard lips. He wanted to hurt her. She was a child, playing at sensuality, and he wanted to make it so rough that she’d stop tormenting him with emotions he never wanted to feel again….

      She yielded completely, no thought of fighting him. His mouth was hard, warm and tasted of tobacco and it was only then that she realized how expert he really was. He made no allowances for her youth, and despite her small experience with Chase, this was her first real taste of passion. It was devastating, this helpless feeling he caused in her. She sighed hungrily, letting him draw her completely against the powerful hard length of his body, letting him crush her against it. Her mouth yielded eagerly to his insistent lips, tasting the tobacco tartness of his tongue as it pushed into her mouth, penetrating her in a silence that blazed with kindling sensations.

      Her hands grasped his shirtsleeves, holding on, because her knees were getting weak. His arm at her