When Passion Calls - Page 52

Together they moaned, as a great surge of ecstasy claimed them both . . . .

Later, Melanie kissed his cheek softly. "Shane, whatever are we going to do about us?" she asked, giggling. "We shouldn't be here, you know. We have much to do. I have much to show you."

The magical spell between them was broken just as quickly as Melanie's words were spoken. Shane rose to his feet and drew on his breeches. "I will find out who killed the cattle," he said decisively.

He looked out the window, watching the thick, black smoke rising from the burning carcasses. "Surely it wasn't Josh. The longhorns belong to him, also. He wouldn't destroy something so valuable just to humiliate or scare me." He slipped into his shirt. "Yet, I don't really know my brother or what he is capable of, do I?"

Melanie began dressing. "And perhaps you never will," she said. "I've lived with Terrance all of my life and I still don't know him or how his mind works." She glanced at the window, shivering when she caught sight of the smoke. ''Perhaps I wouldn't even want to. The knowing might frighten me."

"Tonight I will spend the night outside, keeping watch," Shane said flatly, brushing his hair back from his eyes with his long, lean fingers. "If anyone tries anything, they will have me to answer to, personally!"

Fear grabbed Melanie at the pit of her stomach. She splayed her hands against his chest. "Shane, please don't take this on all by yourself," she pleaded. "It could be dangerous. Let me call in the authorities"

He interrupted her by placing a hand over her mouth. "I am my own authority," he growled. "It is partly my land. They are partly my cattle. I will protect it all in my own way. If anyone wants to kill any more of my longhorns, they will have to fight me to get to them!"

Chapter Nineteen

The moon was high, the hour late. Shane fought against falling asleep, pacing back and forth far enough from the longhorns so that his presence would not alarm them.

Peering through the shadowy night, he moved his eyes slowly so that he might catch any unusual, sudden movement in the pasture. Thus far, the night had been peaceful, disturbed only by the haunting, almost mournful cry of a loon in the distance.

Shane turned his eyes in the direction of the sound, and smiled, recalling the moment he and Melanie had watched the loon settle into its nest of eggs. The bird was patiently awaiting the birth of its offspring. Shane had to wonder if he would be as patient when he awaited the birth of his first

child. Would this child be born to him and Melanie? Would they ever have that chance?

Or would one humiliation and failure after another make Shane flee this life? If not for Melanie, would he have left before now? Was she, in truth, the only thing holding him there?

He doubled his fists at his sides and firmed his jaw. No. His pride was at stake here! His pride and his love for Melanie were keeping him at the farm. It was damn well not the inheritance, for he had never had these sorts of riches while living in the wilderness, and he had been happy. He knew for a fact that riches did not make the man, or happiness!

The proof was in his brother and Terrance. Both men were tormented, driven, and power-hungry. Shane was none of those things, and until he returned home to life as it had been handed to him, he had been content.

Uncurling his hands from their tight fists, Shane stretched his arms over his head and yawned. A shudder coursed through him as he suddenly realized how cold it was at this hour of night, when a faint streak of light along the horizon revealed that morning would soon be upon this land of wild beauty.

Licking his parched lips, then wiping a hand across his face and inhaling a deep, weary breath, Shane began walking toward his house. It was obvious that no one was going to do anything to his cattle and that he had forced himself to stay awake a full night for nothing.

He looked through the darkness and saw faint

lamplight in some of the windows of Melanie's house. She was supposed to arrive early again, to continue with her teachings. If Shane were lucky, he might get two quick winks of sleep before she arrived.

He smiled wickedly. If he were really lucky, she would come to his bedroom and awaken him. She would not get off all that easily. He would show her how he expected to be woken up every morning once they were married. Making love was the best way to begin a new day.

In a few days he would ask her to marry him, Shane thought, taking the front steps two at a time. It made no sense at all that she was in one house and he in another. They should be together. They would be. Totally! Ah-pah-nay. Forever.

He jerked the massive oak door open, frowning. He just could not put the Chipp

ewa language behind! It kept cropping up, as easily as breathing, it seemed!

Shane shrugged. The change could only be expected to be gradual. He stepped into the foyer, hesitated, and looked into the parlor. A kerosene lamp was dimly lighted, casting dancing shadows on the gilt-edged paintings on the walls, and onto the tall-stemmed crystal goblets that sat on a table against a wall that was filled with expensively bound books.

His gaze moved on around the room. The plushly upholstered sofa and matching chairs and the brocade drapes looked the sort of furnishings that Melanie would enjoy. This home would be hers, his wife's. Soon. Even if he didn't belong, she

did. She would brighten up the place, her laughter filling the house with sunshine.

Yawning again, Shane climbed the stairs, blinking his eyes to keep from falling asleep on his feet. He heard only a faint sound of footsteps down belowthe servants awakening for their full day of chores. Soon the smell of coffee would be drifting up into his room. Soon the sparrows would be singing in the trees just outside his window.

In an isolated part of Shane's pasture, a figure moved stealthily toward a lone longhorn bull standing with its head hung, its eyes closed as it dropped off into sleep. As the intruder drew closer, a knife poised in the air for the death plunge, a wooden pail carried in his other hand, he jumped with a start as the longhorn's tail began slowly swishing back and forth, as though the bull were fully awake again.

Taking quiet steps, moving in a wide circle around the longhorn, the man peered through the early morning light, testing the longhorn to see if it was alert enough to pick up on his scent.

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