Scotsman's Siren (Culpepper Cowboys Book 6) Page 3

  “We aren’t sharing a room.”

  “We aren’t?” Grace glanced around at the guest bedroom with its one bed. “Oh yeah. That’s weird.”

  “Yeah, well I never wanted to share a room with you, freak.” Honor grinned as she said it, standing and crossing to plop on Grace’s bed. “You always got to choose the décor. If I ever have to sleep in a pink room again, I think I’ll throw up.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with pink, goober.” Grace flopped to her back and swatted Honor’s arm.

  “Ugh. It’s sickening, nerd.” She snatched Grace’s sleep mask off her head and tossed it across the room.

  “You’re sickening, poo-face.”

  Honor couldn’t suppress a giggle. “Takes one to know one, wiener.”

  “Dork.”

  “Doofus.”

  “Fart-face.”

  “Again with the face?” Honor laughed outright at their little game. They’d been playing it since they’d invented their own twin language, months before they learned to speak in any real language. “It doesn’t matter anyhow,” Honor went on, standing. “We’ll both be married before too long, and you can decorate your marriage bedroom in as many shades of pink as you want.”

  “Meanwhile, you’ll decorate yours in poop-brown?” Grace arched a brow.

  Honor tilted her head to the side and crossed her arms. “That’s not a bad idea. And I’ll cover every spare inch with horse pictures.”

  “You would, loser.”

  “Dumbo.”

  “Snot-breath.”

  “Goober.”

  “Ha! I already said ‘goober.’ I win.”

  The two of them shared a laugh, then Honor blew Grace a kiss and turned to head out of the room.

  She crossed through the dim, pre-dawn halls as quietly as she could, sneaking out to the porch, then off across the yard to the stables. Wyoming was cool and silent in the early morning. Honor drew in a deep breath—which left her oddly unsatisfied. She hadn’t slept well the night before either, constantly waking up with a weird, out-of-breath feeling. She chalked it up to nerves, sleeping in a new house, and her life on the verge of a major change. Still, as she strode across the scrubby ground toward the stable, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something heavy was sitting on her ribcage.

  Halfway to the stable, her back pocket buzzed. She didn’t need to take her phone out to know it was her father. Five missed calls, and now this one. He must be livid. If she answered, he would only tell her to come home. No, he’d demand that she submit herself to his will because he knew what was best for her, and good daughters obeyed. Her jaw clenched painfully at the memory of a thousand and one lectures about coming when she was called, stopping when his orders were issued, and fighting the devil’s own stubbornness in her soul.

  Then again, she owed it to her parents to let them know where they were.

  “Hi, Daddy.” She answered the call briskly.

  “Honor Fortitude Quinlan, you’d better have an iron-clad reason why you and your sister are not sitting here at the breakfast table right now.”

  Honor swallowed. Her father was angry. Super angry.

  Which wasn’t anything new to her.

  “We’re in Wyoming. We’ve come to visit the quads.” She kept her voice neutral even as her stomach churned with frustration.

  “Young lady, you did not have permission to run off like that. I did not give you leave to visit your sisters.”

  “I’m in my twenties. I wasn’t aware I needed your permission to spend time with family.” The struggle to remain neutral grew harder.

  Her father was just getting started. “What kind of a disobedient minx fails to answer calls from her own father? The only reason we allowed you to have that phone in the first place was to ensure you check in with us when you’re outside of the house.”

  “Well, I’m checking in with you now. We’re in Wyoming. We’re visiting the quads.” She wasn’t about to open another can of worms by telling him about Marcus Wells or Angus.

  “You will get back in that car we so generously provided for you and come home this instant,” her father went on. “You will do a better job of obeying your parents in the future. You will wear the dresses that your mother kindly picked out for you, and you will curb that restless temper of yours. And you will marry a man with a firm hand who will teach you to behave as a woman should.”

  Honor couldn’t take another second. “All right, Daddy, I will,” she all but shouted, then ended the call. With a frustrated growl, she shoved her phone back into her pocket and stomped on. Her father was hundreds of miles away, but she still felt the suffocating squeeze of the vise he wanted to put her in as if he was right there.

  Lucky for her, all of that built-up frustration was blown out of her mind as she turned the corner into the stable and found Angus already there. She drank in the sight of his broad back—his t-shirt stretched tight across firm muscles—and his perfect backside as he bent to scoop feed out of a large container. The sight was a balm to her troubled soul. A wave of sensations that were much more like something Chastity would feel zipped through her, leaving her overheated and even more breathless in the morning chill.

  The breathless feeling only intensified when Angus sensed she was there, turned around, and grinned at her.

  “Morning.” He nodded, dropping the scoop back into the feed, then approaching her with big, powerful strides. “I figured ye’d be excited about riding and get here bright and early this morning.”

  His mention of riding was the only thing that kept her head on her shoulders and the focus of her attention on feelings above her waistband. “And I figured after the way you were all overprotective yesterday, you’d be here to beat me to it.”

  His brow dipped into a confused frown. “Overprotective? I was just helping you learn.”

  Honor shifted her weight to one hip, crossed her arms, and raised a brow. His words were a little too close to her father’s command that she go find a husband that would teach her to behave.

  Angus’s confused expression deepened. He stared at her for several long heartbeats as Honor forced her breathing back to normal. A moment later, Angus shook off whatever thoughts he was having and strode back to the feed bin.

  “I’m usually up before the sun anyhow, making sure these wee beasties are taken care of. Sometimes Cooper or Kolby beat me out here, but usually not. Once this lot is well in hand, I ride out to see how my flock is doing.”

  “Your flock?” Without waiting for further instructions or permission, Honor crossed to the wall of tack, taking down the saddle she’d used on Strawby the day before.

  Angus didn’t protest as she brought Strawby out of her stall and started saddling her.

  “The Culpeppers raise cattle,” Angus said. “Most ranchers in Wyoming do. Beef prices are competitive, even in the worst of times. But decades ago, sheep ranching was also popular.”

  He finished feeding the last of the horses, then fetched Brick from his stall and began saddling him.

  “Then the price of lamb took a dive,” he explained. “On top of that, coyotes and other predators became a problem. A lot of ranchers gave up sheep in favor of more cattle.”

  “But not you?” Honor placed the saddle on Strawby’s back the way Angus had showed her the day before, and set to work buckling and tightening all of the straps.

  Angus laughed. “I only came here three years ago, after earning my master’s degree in Agriculture.”

  Honor paused. “They have degrees in that sort of thing?”

  “Of course they do.”

  As soon as she noticed Angus was catching up to her in saddling his horse, Honor doubled her efforts to get Strawby riding-ready. She would beat Angus if it was the last thing she ever did.

  “I studied all about sheep and other livestock in school, and worked with a flock in Nebraska as part of an internship. When the Culpeppers hired me, I convinced them to bring back Wyoming sheep ranching.”

  “And
it worked.” She finished tightening the girth, then grabbed hold of the saddle to mount.

  Angus was only one step behind her. “Aye, it did. Only, the Culpeppers have me starting small. I only have about fifty head right now.”

  “That’s small?” Honor asked as she pulled herself up. She was back to being out of breath at that small exertion.

  Angus laughed. “A good sheep operation could have hundreds of head or more. It’s a new endeavor for the Culpeppers, but I’m determined to make it work.” He finished saddling Brick and swept up into the saddle without so much as a drop of sweat. “Lamb prices are on the rise again, and believe it or not, Wyoming provides almost all of the wool for American-made wool dress socks and military uniforms.”

  For half a second, Honor forgot her frustration over how easy mounting was for him and how much of a challenge it still was for her. “Really?”

  “Aye.” He nodded, then tapped Brick’s sides to walk toward the stable door.

  Honor followed, trying not to feel overly competitive because he’d gotten out the door first.

  “I brought in a good price for the wool this spring,” Angus went on as they stepped out into the earliest rays of morning sunlight. “Which was a good thing, considering all the trouble the family is having with their cousin Travis.”

  “Yeah, Faith was telling me about that.” Honor adjusted her seat and tapped Strawby’s sides the way Angus had showed her. The memory of the way he’d held her ankles and legs and wrapped his big hands around her thighs as he showed her to ride the day before sent a shiver through her. She kinda wanted to have those hands wrapped around her again, and more.

  But she wouldn’t be that girl, she wouldn’t.

  “Faith said that unless the Culpeppers are able to come up with two hundred fifty thousand dollars to buy out cousin Travis’s part of the ranch, he would sell it to someone else,” she went on.

  “Aye, and that would mean losing a fair chunk of valuable land. Not to mention opening the doors to competition that could prove unhealthy.”

  Angus steered his horse in such a way that Strawby followed, preventing Honor from making a break for the paddock gate and out across open land. She sighed heavily at being trapped in a circle again.

  “What do you mean, ‘unhealthy?’” she asked.

  Angus frowned. “Wyoming has a pretty big energy industry on top of ranching. I’ve heard talk that this is ideal land for putting up a wind farm.”

  “What’s a wind farm?”

  “Didn’t you see any of those massive, white windmills while driving in?”

  Understanding dawned on Honor. “Oh yeah! Those things are incredible.”

  “Aye, and they bring their own set of problems with them.”

  “So you don’t want anyone to build a wind farm on part of the Culpepper ranch land.”

  “Exactly.”

  It made sense to her. It also made sense why Faith and Hope and Joy and Chastity had been working their fingers to the bone to make a little extra money for the family. Honor herself had put in a little more effort to finish several baby doll cribs for Faith before leaving Kentucky. She’d have to get back into making those as soon as possible so she could do her part to help.

  But first things first.

  “Can we get out of this stupid paddock and go for a real run in open land?” She didn’t wait for an answer before turning Strawby and heading for the gate.

  “I suppose so.” Angus rode after her. “But you have to promise me you won’t let Strawby run full-out yet. You’re a natural-born horsewoman, but you still have a lot to learn.”

  It was all Honor could do to bite her tongue. If there was one thing she hated more than anything else in the world, it was people telling her what to do when that directly contradicted what she knew she could do. She was convinced it was annoyance that was squeezing her lungs now.

  “I know my capabilities,” she insisted.

  Angus eyed her consideringly, then rode on and dismounted to open the paddock gate. “Walk her around a bit until you get the feeling for the land. The ground in the paddock is nice and smooth, but out across the open land, things can get a little rougher. Strawby knows—”

  Before he could finish, she tapped Strawby’s sides. The brilliant horse leapt into action, zipping out through the gate to freedom.

  Yeah, girl, you wanted to get out here and run as much as I did, Honor told her mount silently.

  She heard Angus shout behind her, but didn’t pay him any mind. The wind and the wild awaited her. Her breath came in excited gasps as she leaned forward the way she’d seen riders do on TV.

  The position she found herself in didn’t feel comfortable. Nothing felt comfortable. She tried to sit up, to grip Strawby’s sides with her thighs, but something was wrong. She couldn’t catch her breath. Strawby slowed after her initial burst of speed, but that didn’t stop Honor’s head from swimming.

  Fingers of panic raced up her back, which only made her shortness of breath more noticeable. Prickles broke out along her skin, and instead of glorying in the excitement of riding fast, she gripped the saddle and held on for dear life. Luckily, Strawby sensed something was wrong and slowed to a trot, then a walk, then stopped altogether. It wasn’t enough somehow. Honor grabbed her chest and started to cough. She needed water. She needed something. Why did she feel like she wasn’t getting enough oxygen, even though she was breathing as deep as her lungs would let her? Why did she feel—

  Without warning, she lost her balance and slipped from the saddle. Whatever air she had left rushed out of her lungs as she thumped to the ground. Her shoulder twanged with pain, but that was the least of her worries.

  “Honor!” Angus’s shout was frantic. She felt footsteps vibrate the ground as he ran up to her—ran, not rode. He hadn’t even climbed back onto Brick before chasing after her. “Honor, are ye all right?” His accent grew more pronounced with his alarm.

  Honor rolled to her back. That sensible voice in the back of her head told her to lay still, let her body recover. That voice also let out a long, low sigh as big, hunky Angus crouched by her side, drawing her into his arms across his lap. Man, it felt good to be held by someone as strong and sweet as Angus.

  “What happened?” His accent continued to be thicker than usual. “Ye were doin’ so well, and then suddenly ye slumped.”

  “I couldn’t breathe,” she said, then cursed herself for admitting weakness.

  But instead of going into a fit, Angus relaxed and smiled, though he continued to hold her as if she was fragile. “Couldn’t breathe, eh? Must be the altitude.”

  “The what?”

  “The altitude. We’re seven thousand feet above sea-level. It takes some getting used to. Most people take weeks to adapt before they can be as physically active as they used to be.” His accent faded closer to American.

  “I had no idea.”

  “Yep. Give it a moment, and you’ll feel better.” He smiled down at her.

  Gosh, he was hot. And his red hair stood out like a halo in the early morning light. How did he manage to keep his teeth so white and straight anyhow? Was that mint she smelled on his breath?

  Before she could stop herself, she looped a daring hand around his neck and pulled him down, lifting just enough to bring their mouths into contact. Fireworks exploded across her skin and inside the deepest reaches of her body as she kissed him. He was something else! And when he started kissing her back…when he tightened his hold around her and put his lips to work exploring hers—

  All of her parents’ strict, moral training screeched to her surface. She let go of his neck, broke their kiss, then smacked his face.

  “Wha—” Angus started, blinking at her.

  Still out of breath, but for an entirely different reason, Honor’s heart twisted in her chest. Why had she slapped him? He didn’t deserve that. She didn’t want to slap him at all. She wanted to—

  She threaded her fingers through his wonderful hair and tugged him closer for
another kiss. This one was even more hungry than the first for both of them. This one involved tongues. Wow, it was weird and wonderful to have a man’s tongue sneak into your mouth, and yet, it kinda felt right. And it felt really, really right when one of Angus’s large hands brushed its way across her side to cradle her breast. She arched her back into his touch, girly bits tingling with—

  Her mother’s voice cried foul in her head, and the spirit of her father called her a shameless hussy. Honor broke the kiss, pulling away only to slap him a second time, harder than the first.

  “Ow!” This time Angus frowned and touched his cheek. “What was that for?”

  “It was because you…I…we…” Shoot, what was that for? She’d liked kissing him, liked his hand on her way more than she should.

  Maybe that was the problem. Should. Her father was hundreds of miles away, and she was still letting him dictate her behavior.

  “We’re not married.” She scrambled out of Angus’s embrace—angry for reasons that had little to do with him, but that ran deep—and rolled to her hands and knees. Pushing her father’s disapproving voice out of her head, she slowly stood.

  Strawby stood to the side, watching the whole thing as if shaking her head at Honor’s stupidity.

  Angus sighed and stood. “Are you sure you’re all right?” He took a step forward, raking her with a look that was more about concern and less about mentally undressing her.

  So why did she want to feel like he was mentally undressing her?

  Because he was hot as Hades, sweeter than syrup, and technically engaged to her. That was the kind of assessment he deserved.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I should get back on the horse, right?” She turned to Strawby.

  He reached out and caught her. “Not this time.” With his big hands and strong, gentle arms, he drew her slowly into a hug. “You had me so scared for a second there.”

  Just like that, Honor was back to being out of breath and dizzy. And not from the altitude. She closed her arms around Angus’s back, hugging him. One gigantic part of her wanted him more than heaven and earth. Another part growled and thrashed and grumbled that if she gave in to him, her life would never be her own again. So which part was right?