threw over her shoulder as she walked out the door. “Ask again after you’ve regained your full strength.”
His gaze lingering on the twin mounds of her round bottom, Pierce watched her stride through the back door. His body reacted predictably and he cursed beneath his breath when he realized he wanted Zoey Fuller Delaney. Wanted her spread beneath him, naked. He wanted to be inside her. Before he left the Circle F he’d damn well have her on his own terms.
Later that day Pierce wandered outside, intending to have a look around. It had been so dark the night he’d arrived that he’d seen little of the ranch itself.
Pierce’s chest expanded as he breathed in fresh mountain air for the first time in three weeks, drinking in the sights and sounds of the Circle F. The first thing he noticed was that the weathered paddock fence begged for a coat of paint. Twenty feet beyond, a hip-roofed barn with peeling paint added to the sense of neglect. To the left, a sturdy log bunkhouse stood forlorn and deserted. He sniffed appreciatively of the mingled scent of horses, hay, dust, and manure. The familiar odors made him homesick for his own ranch, and hecouldn’t help wondering how his brothers were faring without him.
Pierce gazed for a moment toward the mountains where Zoey and Cully had gone earlier in the morning, then followed a path around to the rear of the house. Several yards from the back door a pipe dribbled water into a trough, dragged up from the well by a pump.
The ranch house was solidly constructed, Pierce thought, admiring the sawed wood and log two-story structure. Obviously Zoey’s father had taken great pride in his land, for he had built sturdy structures upon it. Taking into account the sparkling stream, meandering river, and lush grasslands, Pierce decided the Circle F possessed everything necessary to make it a prosperous spread. Unfortunately Zoey’s father had died before the ranch could realize its full potential, and Zoey was hard put to keep it in operation with Willoughby dead set on gaining possession of it.
Pierce glanced briefly at the corral and several paddocks, deciding to leave further inspection for another day. He returned to the front of the house. The sound of pounding hooves brought his gaze around to the road approaching the ranch. Shading his eyes against the glare of the setting sun, he saw a lone rider appear over a slight rise. Curious, Pierce leaned against the porch railing to wait.
By the time the rider passed through the gate, Pierce knew the Circle F was being honored by a visit from Samson Willoughby. He cursed beneath his breath, wondering what the bastard wanted now. Had he heard about Zoey’s marriage?
Willoughby reined in sharply at the front stepsand dismounted, glaring at Pierce with outright hostility. “Who are you?” he asked harshly.
“Who are you?” Pierce shot back, knowing full well what and who the banker was.
Willoughby drew himself up huffily. “I’m Samson Willoughby. Where is Zoey?”
“You mean Mrs. Delaney?”
Willoughby blanched. “Wha … what did you say?”
“I assume you were referring to my wife.”
“Your … your wife!” Willoughby sputtered. “What kind of game are you playing? Zoey has no husband.”
Pierce smiled without mirth. “She does now. We were married a week ago. I assume you knew she had a fiancé.”
“I knew, but … See here …” He searched for a name.
“Delaney, Pierce Delaney.”
“See here, Mr. Delaney, I’m sure you know who I am.”
“You’re the bas—er, banker who’s trying to steal my wife’s land.”
Willoughby shifted uncomfortably. “My bank holds the mortgage on this land.”
“So you say. As Zoey’s legal husband, I’ll attend to any problems pertaining to my wife’s land. If you’ve come to intimidate her, you’ll have to deal with me first. And I’m not as easily frightened as Zoey.”
Willoughby’s colorless eyes settled on Pierce, conveying his hatred and
His gaze lingering on the twin mounds of her round bottom, Pierce watched her stride through the back door. His body reacted predictably and he cursed beneath his breath when he realized he wanted Zoey Fuller Delaney. Wanted her spread beneath him, naked. He wanted to be inside her. Before he left the Circle F he’d damn well have her on his own terms.
Later that day Pierce wandered outside, intending to have a look around. It had been so dark the night he’d arrived that he’d seen little of the ranch itself.
Pierce’s chest expanded as he breathed in fresh mountain air for the first time in three weeks, drinking in the sights and sounds of the Circle F. The first thing he noticed was that the weathered paddock fence begged for a coat of paint. Twenty feet beyond, a hip-roofed barn with peeling paint added to the sense of neglect. To the left, a sturdy log bunkhouse stood forlorn and deserted. He sniffed appreciatively of the mingled scent of horses, hay, dust, and manure. The familiar odors made him homesick for his own ranch, and hecouldn’t help wondering how his brothers were faring without him.
Pierce gazed for a moment toward the mountains where Zoey and Cully had gone earlier in the morning, then followed a path around to the rear of the house. Several yards from the back door a pipe dribbled water into a trough, dragged up from the well by a pump.
The ranch house was solidly constructed, Pierce thought, admiring the sawed wood and log two-story structure. Obviously Zoey’s father had taken great pride in his land, for he had built sturdy structures upon it. Taking into account the sparkling stream, meandering river, and lush grasslands, Pierce decided the Circle F possessed everything necessary to make it a prosperous spread. Unfortunately Zoey’s father had died before the ranch could realize its full potential, and Zoey was hard put to keep it in operation with Willoughby dead set on gaining possession of it.
Pierce glanced briefly at the corral and several paddocks, deciding to leave further inspection for another day. He returned to the front of the house. The sound of pounding hooves brought his gaze around to the road approaching the ranch. Shading his eyes against the glare of the setting sun, he saw a lone rider appear over a slight rise. Curious, Pierce leaned against the porch railing to wait.
By the time the rider passed through the gate, Pierce knew the Circle F was being honored by a visit from Samson Willoughby. He cursed beneath his breath, wondering what the bastard wanted now. Had he heard about Zoey’s marriage?
Willoughby reined in sharply at the front stepsand dismounted, glaring at Pierce with outright hostility. “Who are you?” he asked harshly.
“Who are you?” Pierce shot back, knowing full well what and who the banker was.
Willoughby drew himself up huffily. “I’m Samson Willoughby. Where is Zoey?”
“You mean Mrs. Delaney?”
Willoughby blanched. “Wha … what did you say?”
“I assume you were referring to my wife.”
“Your … your wife!” Willoughby sputtered. “What kind of game are you playing? Zoey has no husband.”
Pierce smiled without mirth. “She does now. We were married a week ago. I assume you knew she had a fiancé.”
“I knew, but … See here …” He searched for a name.
“Delaney, Pierce Delaney.”
“See here, Mr. Delaney, I’m sure you know who I am.”
“You’re the bas—er, banker who’s trying to steal my wife’s land.”
Willoughby shifted uncomfortably. “My bank holds the mortgage on this land.”
“So you say. As Zoey’s legal husband, I’ll attend to any problems pertaining to my wife’s land. If you’ve come to intimidate her, you’ll have to deal with me first. And I’m not as easily frightened as Zoey.”
Willoughby’s colorless eyes settled on Pierce, conveying his hatred and
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