Calder Born, Calder Bred (Calder Saga 4)

“I hate you.” Tara sobbed her defiance at the disapproving stillness of the house. “I hate all of it. I hate this place and I hate this land.”

The telephone rang, forcing her to choke back the bitter sobs and attempt to swallow them. She made an effort to regain her poise as she carried herself erectly to the phone, sniffling back the tears and wiping at her face.

“Calder residence. Mrs. Calder speaking.” Her voice was level and controlled.

24

The hem of her chocolate-colored chenille robe brushed her ankles as Jessy came out of the bathroom, fresh from a shower, her bare feet leaving damp tracks on the linoleum. Vigorously, she toweled the long, wet strands of her hair, scattering droplets of water on the floor.

When she entered the kitchen, she immediately sensed a presence. Before she even saw him, she knew it was Ty in the room. It was something in the air that she instinctively scented. He stood motionless just inside the back door, fingering the crown of the hat in his hand. The unruly thickness of his dark hair showed the rake of his fingers through it, and his hooded eyes were watchful and brooding.

“The coffee’s fresh.” Jessy resumed rubbing her hair dry with the towel. “Help yourself to a cup.”

There was a faint hesitation; then he hooked his hat on a peg by the door and tugged loose the buttons of his coat, letting it hang open. A thinly leashed energy seemed to lie beneath each move as he took down a cup from the shelf of a cupboard and poured coffee into it from the pot. Turning, he leaned a hip against the counter and took blowing sips from his coffee while he watched her. Jessy could feel his eyes following her as she walked to the refrigerator.

“I was just going to fix some supper.” She draped the damp towel around her neck and opened the refrigerator door. “Have you eaten?” She took out a package of ground beef and a dish of boiled potatoes.

“No.” Ty shifted slightly as she set them on the counter near him.

“How about a hamburger steak and some American fries?” For all her outward calm, her nerves were tingling.

“Not for me.” The coffee cup was abruptly set down. “Jessy.” His voice was low and insistent.

When she looked up, his arm hooked out to catch her waist and haul her to him with an urgency that made her blood run quick. His mouth came down heavily onto her lips, the clipped ends of his mustache scraping at her skin as his mouth ground onto hers. She felt his hands digging into her flesh and the viselike bite of his arms that wedged her against his long, muscled body and walled her in with the thickness of his coat. The seething force inside him gave no quarter, brutal in its demands.

Anger ran through her like a two-edged sword. She twisted from beneath his driving kiss and pulled back to glare at him, breathing roughly from the smothering pressure.

“You had an argument with her, didn’t you?” Jessy accused. “That’s why you’re here.”

“I’m here. It doesn’t matter why,” he insisted.

“The hell it doesn’t!” she flared and pulled the rest of the way out of his arms. The chenille robe became tangled around her long legs as she strode to the back door and jerked it open, mindless of the cold draft of air on her bare feet. “Get out!”

Crossing the room, he jerked the door out of her grasp and slammed it shut. “Like hell I will!” He gave her a hard and knowing look. “And you don’t want me to go.”

“Like hell I don’t!” The same expletive was being flung back and forth, strong wills clashing and hurling back to clash again.

“It is hell,” Ty said through his teeth, catching her again and ignoring her vigorous resistance to take her in his arms again. “It’s hell wanting and not having the right to want. It’s hell being with you and knowing it’s wrong.”

This time when his mouth rolled onto her lips, his need was a hungry, growling thing—tonguing and insistent. She was indecisive—wanting and not wanting him, liking it and loathing it. But she stayed with the kiss.

And the bands of restraint inside him began to break. This need that was blind and unfair, without a conscience, took control. Ty became intent on sweeping her beyond the limits she tried to impose. He molded her closer and felt the stirrings that took the weight from her body, making it supple and light.

As if realizing what was happening, she broke away from the kiss. Her fingers dug into his jacket while she turned her head aside. Then she lifted it, exposing her throat and the gaping front of her robe, and the small breasts heaving beneath it.

“Sometimes I hate you, Ty Calder,” she said in her throat. The glitter in her eyes was halfway between anger and tears.

Then she came at him with the same fierce aggression he had shown, her mouth hungry and demanding while she pushed the rest of the way inside his coat. Ty scooped her off her feet and carried her to the first empty space he found, the large braided rug in front of the fireplace. Crackling yellow flames laid a gentle light on it.

He set her on it, his mouth clinging to hers while he unknotted the chenille sash of her robe. Her shoulders hunched to shrug out of it as he pushed it down her arms and laid it out behind her on the rug. Then it was his jacket, clothes, and boots that made a pile on the floor while she reclined on the robe-cushioned rug and watched him strip.

The firelight played golden over her nude body, shadowing its valleys and shining on its rounded curves. Her still-damp hair was slicked away from her face, throwing her strong, bold features into sharp relief. Her long arms lifted to gather him in when he came to her.

Heat surrounded them, pressure pushing from inside and out as his mouth moved from her lips to her erect nipples, finding succor in each. She writhed under him, hips urging.

There was harmony in their mating, something earthy and good in their coming together. It spiraled through him, sweet and clean as the air after a rain. And that was the way she looked to him when she rolled him over and sat atop him, fingers linked tightly in his grasp, her movements graceful as a willow. Her strong looks were of the land that bred her, proud and indomitable.

In an instant of clarity, Ty knew it was her strength of body and spirit that Tara could never match