Chapter 10

Isabella had awakened to find herself alone in her bed. Jacob had already gotten up and left her room. Were it not for his scent in her bed, she would've easily dismissed it all as just a vivid, sexual dream.

But she couldn't now, not with his scent all over her sheets and covers and his taste in her mouth. Not with his lust having leaked out of her that morning when she awakened and thought she had one of those notorious "toilet dreams" she had from time to time. No. It all really had happened, and as beautiful and dreamlike as it was, the cold hard reality of the morning after quickly sobered her up.

It was back to work ... and back to being confused what to do. Her heart cried to pursue him, but her common sense commanded that she leave as soon as she possibly could before she'd lose what little dignity and modesty she still had. Nothing good could come of this. Elena's previous words rang in her head, reminding her that Jacob Barrington wasn't the marrying kind. Fact remained, she was.

She decided that no matter how wonderful it was to be Jacob's lover, her upbringing, morals, and ethics wouldn't allow her to be just a man's lover. She couldn't do this; not to herself, to him, and especially not to the memory of her late mother who had always held out the hope that she'd raised a good daughter as befitting a Beaumont-Boucher.

All wasn't lost, though. She could still salvage herself. She could still leave.

She'd been thinking about the night before since the moment she woke up. She couldn't think of anything else. On one hand, it was such a profound experience that she couldn't deny it had helped her mentally as well as physically. She'd be forever grateful to Jacob Barrington for that, for he made her feel complete, whole, and feminine again—something she hadn't felt ever since that horrible afternoon at the Periwinkle's garden party. Just making love with Jacob was like a salve that healed parts of her that Charles had damaged so badly.

On the other hand, now that she's tasted the sweet throes of lust, where could she go from there? Where could either of them go from here? Will this ever go anywhere beyond incredible sex? She wasn't convinced, particularly on Jacob's part.

He most likely 'reckoned' that they'd be clandestine lovers until either decided it was time to move on. He'd gotten what he was clearly after—another conquest and another bedmate—and he might not even want her anymore now. Oh how she wished they had talked right after so that she'd know what he wanted out of this!

But then again, she'd known, even before he touched her, that he wasn't exclusively hers. Not only had she been forewarned many times, but she'd even seen it with her own eyes in the shed.

Jacob Barrington was a very virile man with insatiable appetites. She's seen the copious amount of food he could eat at a single sitting. A man's appetite for food usually hinted at a man's appetite for sex, and there's no doubt that his was considerable and insatiable.

Even before his first kiss, she had accepted he wasn't a one woman man. So understanding all these telltale signs as fact, why did it hurt so now? Why was she having a problem with being just another Jacob Barrington lover now?

"Because I'm selfish," she whispered as she used the electric knife to slice the freshly baked bread on the kitchen counter. "Because ... I'm a one-man woman." She sighed and stopped slicing as she looked out the kitchen window in troubled thought. "Because I want a one-woman man." She sighed again, shook her head and resumed slicing bread. "And because I'm a fool," she added softly.

She placed her free hand against her forehead and closed her eyes. "I have to go. I can't stay here," she whispered softly. When she opened her eyes, her vision was blurred. Oh great. Tears. Tears never solved anything. They certainly never gave her the answers she so desperately needed. They just made her face wet and her nose runny.

She turned off the electric knife and took a corner of her apron before she dabbed her eyes. The thought of leaving and never seeing Jacob Barrington again hit harder than she thought it would, and it hurt so much more than she could've every guessed. Sweet mother of god! And all these after just a single night in his arms?

"Silly goose," she mumbled.

"Yea. You are."

Isabella paused for a moment before she turned her head and saw that Elena had arrived. She looked sexy beautiful as always, in a puff sleeve peasant top that left considerable tummy exposed, and a pair of slim-fitting faded denims. She was calmly leaning, with arms crossed, against the doorjamb of the door to the laundry room, and looking at her with a snooty arched eyebrow that mismatched the look in her green eyes.

Elena wanted to project an unfriendly front, but the look in her eyes was more of a cross between curiosity and concern than hostility.

She wasn't in the mood for the Latina right now, and quickly swept her tears and with fingers as she sniffled before she resumed her task. She decided that not saying anything was the more intelligent course of action for her to take at that moment. Hopefully, the exotic beauty would get the message and leave her be.

She didn't.

"You're fallin' in love with him," Elena said with a tone of observation.

"I really don't have time for chitchat, Elena," she said as she shook her head, ashamed that the other woman had seen her weeping, and switched off the electric knife before she set it aside on the counter. "And I have no idea what you're talking about."

"But you are, and you know exactly what I'm talkin' about."

"It doesn't matter," she said before she washed her hands and took a sheet of paper towel. "I really don't have time to stand around and have light conversation. The Barringtons expect their breakfast on time."

"They ain't comin' in for another hour or so. Lady's been havin' trouble foalin' so they're waitin' for Doc to come out to see why."

Hearing that, her head snapped up, eyes big. Then she turned her head and gave Elena an suspicious look, but there was no sarcasm, no cynicism, and no mirth there. She expected at least one of those, but the other woman was being serious.

Still, to be sure, she cautiously asked, "Doc?"

"Yea." She shrugged. "Doc."

She lowered her chin a little and looked at the other woman with eyebrows up over quizzical but also uneasy eyes. "You wouldn't be referring to ... Doctor Bennett, would you?"

"Yea, him."

She blinked in surprise. "The same man I'm under medical treatment with?"

"Yea."

"He's a veterinarian?"

Elena seemed to understand the other woman's concern. "Yea. But he's a medical doctor, too. He's both." She smiled. "He's licensed to treat cattle and," she allowed her gaze to briefly sweep the other woman's length, "fainting ladies from Louisiana, too."

Isabella gave the other woman a terse look. "I see." Then she turned and began putting the slices of bread in a linen-lined bread basket. Doctor Bennett was a versatile man. Were it not for her trust in John Barrington, she would've been alarmed that she was under medical treatment—with a veterinarian.

Elena tilted her head as she eyed the Louisiana lady with quiet thought. "Yea," she began, "I see some things, too." When the other woman didn't respond, she added, "I see you're fallin' for Jacob Barrington."

Isabella paused for a few moments, but then she decided to ignore the other woman's remark. She took the plastic wrap out of a drawer and began to cover the food she'd cooked. If the Barrington men weren't coming in for another hour, she'd have to save their meal now.

Then she paused.

Another hour? Another hour! This would give her more than enough time to toss her suitcases into the Rover and drive away! She believed she was given a second chance, and it was going to be now or never. With her emotions in turmoil about Jacob, she believed it was best to leave now while she still could ... while she still had her senses.

After she finished covering the plates of food and setting lids on the skillets, she swept the loop of her apron up and over her head, and went to the closet while the other woman silently watched her.

"It's true, ain't it?"

"You'll believe whatever you want to believe, Elena."

"That's true," the exotic beauty said with a nod. "But in this case, I know it's a fact."

Without answering, Isabella hung her apron away, closed the closet door, and then made for the door into the hall so she could get to her room. Unfortunately, that meant having to walk toward Elena who hadn't moved from her spot there. As she neared, she noticed how Elena's green eyes sharpened as she studied her quiet face. Just when she was about to pass her, Elena shot out an arm and blocked her way, forcing her to abruptly stop. She raised her head and looked calmly but earnestly at the other woman; both women standing at equal height.

"Please remove your arm, Elena."

Elena leaned closer and studied the other woman's sapphire blue eyes. "You're fallin' for him, ain't you?"

"Please remove your arm."

"I've seen how you act around him. I can see the little things women do when they want a man's attention. The faintin', the little tears, the actin' like you're so oh, so scared and timid so he comes to your rescue—"

"—I won't ask you to remove your arm again."

"Good!" Elena said. "Then maybe you'll listen to me."

Isabella arched a cool eyebrow, but the Latina wasn't impressed as she searched her eyes for something. At any other given moment, she would've demanded that Elena remove her arm, but at that moment, she saw something in Elena's eyes, too, and it wasn't sarcasm.

"He's a good man, Isabella," Elena said with an earnest look.

"Yes, I'm well aware how you see him," Isabella said with firm eyes.

Elena briefly frowned as she cocked her head quizzically. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"If you're afraid I'm competition for you—"

"—Competition for me? Pfft!" Elena scoffed.

"—then be rest assured, I'm not."

"I know you're not."

Isabella slowly shook her head. "I'm not interested in becoming a part of Jacob Barrington's harem."

Elena made a face with a curious look as she pulled back her head. "Harem?"

"It's not who I am. So don't worry. It's not going to happen."

Elena narrowed probing eyes on her. "You want him all to yourself. Is that it?"

Isabella dropped her eyelashes and shook her head.

"No."

"But I know you want him." Then she studied the other woman's long eyelashes for a moment. "So you're tellin' me you ain't fallin' for him?"

"No."

"That's because you'd already fallen hard for him."

Isabella snapped up eyes and looked at the other woman.

"Yea," she watched as Elena slowly shook her head, "and I know you'd be his wife if he asked ya. I can see that with my own two eyes—"

"—I've already told you," Isabella said, harshly, "I'm not here to look for a husband."

"Then why are you here?" Elena asked, searching the other woman's eyes. "Why are you really here, Lady from Louisiana?"

"It was a mistake," she answered, truthfully. "One I intend to rectify." And having her fill of this conversation—her emotions weren't stable as it was—and knowing that the window of opportunity was quickly closing, she took Elena's wrist and, with surprising strength, shoved it down before she stepped passed her and quickly headed down the hallway.

Elena watched Isabella stalk away with a stiff back. The question mark mirrored in her green eyes slowly faded as a dawning began to appear and replace it. Then she nodded and, with a tiny smile playing around her lips, she pushed from the jamb and exited the kitchen as well.

~~*

Isabella had no time to waste. Good thing she didn't unpack that morning—primarily because she'd overslept—and her things were still in her suitcases. Now an unexpected chance to leave opened to her, and with the Barrington men and most of the ranch hands preoccupied with Lady and her foaling, and the work that still needed to continue on the ranch itself occupying the rest, she could slip away unseen.

Although she couldn't find the letter that she'd written John Barrington from the night before, that wouldn't be a problem. She used the elegant paper and envelope set on her desk and quickly wrote another, shorter one, and slipped it in its envelope and laid it on her bed again. Then she quickly took her suitcases and, once again, climbed out her bedroom window and headed toward her Rover. She disengaged the alarm and after tossing her suitcases into the backseat, she shut the door and quickly stepped to the driver's door—but she was thwarted again.

Excited barking had her nearly jump out of her skin, and she snapped around and fell back against the Rover's driver's door. Jerry was low on his front legs, tail wagging vigorously, and barking up at her. Then he twirled around and let out another series of excited barks.

"Shoo!" She swept her hands at the dog. "Shoo! Go away, Jerry! Shoo! HUSH!" Then, too late, she looked up to find none other than Jacob Barrington marching toward her with a handsome face set to storm!

She visibly paled before high color shot into her face, and everything inside her told her to hurry and get into her jeep and drive off, but she couldn't move. It was as if her feet were nailed to the ground, and then he was in front of her. Her eyes were round as saucers as she looked up into his stark, taut face under the cowboy hat.

"G-Good-morning, Mister—"

"—Gimme the keys," he commanded as he towered out over her. Although she wasn't short by any measure, at that moment, she felt tinier than a mite.

"Wh-What?"

"Gimme the keys," he repeated more tersely.

She dropped her gaze to see he was holding out his brown gloved hand. Then she blinked big eyes up at him again. "I-I need to get something from the store—"

"—And I don't believe you," he said, curtly, before he briefly bent.

She suddenly felt his rough gloved fingers snatch her keys right out of her fingers! She gasped, "How dare you, Mister Jacob—!"

His sharp whistle, through his teeth, silenced her and she looked down at their side and saw Jacob's tri-color blue merle stop his energetic spinning and come to a sudden halt; ears perked and head off to his side as he lolled a happy tongue for a job well done.

Job well done? Then something dawned on her...

She raised her gaze and looked up at him. "You had him stop me, didn't you?"

"Yea," he said without a pinch of guilt as he stuffed her keys into the breast pocket of his blue and black thick flannel shirt. Then she suddenly blinked when she felt his hands on her arms before she shoved back against the jeep. "I had him watching you since that night you'd been dancin' in the moonlight."

Shocked to the core of her soul, she stared, stunned, up at Jacob's angry, stark face. "Wh-What?"

"You heard me, Bella. Now where did you think you were goin'? And don't give me any of that goin' into town for supplies bullshit, cuz you know I ain't buyin' it."

She felt her temper ignite and she grabbed his arms to shove him away, but she couldn't even make him budge! "Take your hands off of me, Mister Jacob!" she commanded with ladylike authority.

"You were tryin' to run again, weren't you? Weren't you?" He narrowed eyes on her.

"Don't be ridiculous! Now take your hands off of me this instant!"

"I ain't bein' ridiculous, Bella. You are," he pointed out.

She glared up at him with barely contained rage. "I said," she emphasized, "take your hands—"

"—I heard you the first time."

"And yet your hands are still on me," she pointed out with hard-blinking eyes. "Now remove them."

He slowly brought his head closer to hers, boring his gaze into fiery sapphire blue eyes that refused to cower. "I don't take commands, Bella. I give 'em."

"Then consider this an appeal to your gentleman side."

"As you'd pointed out already, I ain't no gentleman."

Furious that he thought he could boss her around, an old anger emerged inside her and she threw herself into a furious struggle against him. She gritted her teeth and shoved and even tried to kick his shins, but she was getting precious little result for all her effort.

"Do you really wanna wrestle with me, Bella?" His tone was dead calm.

"No! I just want you to let me go!" she ground out, blasting him with shimmering eyes.

"Never."

That single, simple word sucked all the wind out of her sails, and with a gasp, she snapped up her head and stared big teary eyes up at him. In the next instant, he did release her arms, but his gloved hands cupped her head, and before she knew what he was going to do, his mouth crushed over hers in a passionate, almost painful kiss.

She was briefly stunned by his bold act, but even as she wanted to surrender to his lips, his kiss, she felt she needed to draw a line in the sand or she'd otherwise lose her soul forever. So her hands slipped up from his arms to his shoulders and she began pushing him back in earnest. It was all to no avail, as he only twisted his mouth over hers and drew her under his spell, draining her of her will and power as her heart began to beat hard and rapidly for him. Only when she ceased fighting him did he finally break the kiss, and she was gasping, out of breath, as she raised her teary eyes and looked up into the smoldering dark blue of his.

"You know you don't really wanna go, Bella," he said with a raspy deep voice.

She slowly shook her head that was still between his gloved hands. "Please give me my keys, Jacob," she whispered. "I-I-I can't stay."

"You can't keep runnin', Bella. You're gonna have to take a stand—"

"—I wasn't running!" she cried, lying through her teeth. Then she got frustrated with herself more than with him, and started shoving at him again.

He resisted and even stepped closer, touching their bodies nearly from chest to toe.

"Let me GO!" she cried in her desperation not to swoon for him, feeling his nearness affecting her down to the core of her cells. She suddenly pushed so hard against his chest that she felt a finger nearly snap in two. "Ow!" she cried before she burst into sobbing. "Look what you've done! Look what you've done! You've broken my fingers you brute!"

Okay. So that was an exaggeration, but she was feeling childish at that moment, frustrated that her attempt to leave was thwarted again, and she was feeling so emotionally weak against him—which had nothing to do with his physical superiority over her.

In the next instant, he showed his gentler side when he finally set her arms free and gently took her injured hand to look at her delicate fingers. "They're not broken, just a little bruised," he said as his gaze rose and watched as she frowned teary eyes as she regarded her fingers. "It's best you go back into the house and put some ice on it."

"I-I'll be fine."

"And while you do that, I'll take your suitcases back to your room."

She snapped up her head and looked up into his unreadable face. It was then she realized that there was no lying to him about just going into town—the city. He just told her that he knew she had her suitcases in the Rover.

A look of desperation flooded her face. "I can't stay, Jacob."

"Well, you can't drive. Not today. Not with bruised fingers," he said. Then he motioned with his head. "Come on. We'll get some ice on them 'for they get worse."

She snatched her fingers from his loose hold and frowned stubbornly up at him. "I said I'm fine. I can drive—"

"—And I said you need ice on those fingers."

"The only thing I need now is for you to step back so I can go my way—"

"—And I need you to ... stay." He looked into her eyes and watched the frustration and upset fade away as a shyer look flooded her pretty eyes before she looked away. "We both have needs, Bella, but neither of us are gonna get them satisfied at this moment, so the best we can do is go back into the house."

"I-I don't know anything about your needs—"

"—Don't you?"

She frowned angry but also confused eyes up at him, searching his deep-set eyes for something before he lowered his chin just a little, briefly dropped his mask, and looked back with raw emotions that had her blush from the roots of her hair. She nearly hyperventilated by the power of his gaze and her frown was wiped away in an instant before she quickly looked away with high-red cheeks. No man, not a single one in her twenty-five years, had ever looked at her like that before.

"Comin'?"

She quickly looked up and saw him pop an eyebrow. "I meant, into the house."

Now she blushed so hard she feared she was at risk of having it permanently etched in her skin.

"B-Before ... Before I do," she stammered, and then swallowed hard, "we can't ... what had happened..." She lifted anxious eyes. "It can't happen again."