Free Under the Cowboy's Control by Lynda Chance

you any time." She gracefully slid off the chair and made her way to the door, carrying the small box that carried their supper.
    Travis stood back to let her exit, and took the box from her hands as she passed him. She walked through the doorway, and his eyes moved to her butt. His gaze went from her silky hair to her tiny feet. He followed her across the yard, to the big house. When the door shut behind them, he moved across to the table and deposited the box there. He leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest and smoldered.
    She valiantly ignored him and got two plates from the cabinet and set them on the table. When she turned for the flatware, he stopped her.
    "I thought I told you to stay in the house."
    She recognized the controlled anger in his voice and hesitated. "That w-was before."
    "Before what?" Antagonism radiated from him.
    "Before, wh-when they thought I w-was a boy." She explained slowly, trying to get the words correct.
    "No. You're mistaken." His deep voice flowed like whiskey. "I don't want you out there, running around, causing fights between the men. You are too damn pretty for your own good. If you keep flaunting yourself in front of them, one of them is going to get the idea he can have you."
    A frown crossed her brow. He couldn't be saying what she thought he was.
    "Flaunting? What is flaunting?"
    "Flaunting. You know, sashaying your ass all around them. Playing the part of the perfect female, needing help with the washing machine, or sharing your cooking skills. You can't try to be friends with them. You need to keep your little butt in the house."
    Selena sucked in her breath at his meaning. He held himself perfectly still, and his tone was even. But she could see the effort it was taking him. She couldn't let him get away with this, virtually keeping her prisoner in this house. But she didn't want to provoke him, either. He looked ready to snap. Maybe she could put this off until another day. After all, she had no reason to leave the house any time soon.
    She rolled her eyes at him and tried for a tone between placating and amusing. "As you wish. I don't want any deaths." She turned away in dismissal.
    He came up behind her and wrapped one arm around her waist, lowered his mouth to her ear and hissed, "You think this is funny Selena, but I'm telling you, you have no idea how beautiful you are. What you can do to a man without even trying."

    Selena felt the immediate impact of his masculinity, wrapping itself around her.
    She had to concentrate, try to think. "Your m-men, they are old. I am like a daughter, a granddaughter."
    His reply was instant. "Clinton isn't old."
    "Clinton is just a boy."
    "Clinton's feelings for you don't have anything to do with youth. I promise you, what he wants from you doesn't have anything to do with friendship, either. He does a man's job every day. He's a man, and you're a temptation he can do without."
    "What about you?" The reply slipped from her mouth without thinking.
    His arms tightened around her. "What about me?" His voice was deep.
    "I think m-maybe I should leave your ranch. Maybe you have s-such feelings, n-not your men."
    "I'm a grown man. I can control myself. And I told you. You're not going anywhere until you can speak English." His words ended in a growl.
    "My English, it is g-good."
    "Your English sucks. You're not going anywhere yet."
    The harsh opinion bit into her, but was almost immediately negated in her brain.
    She knew her English was improving every day. He had been right, no one at home had ever demanded she use it. And she had been too shy to try. All it had taken was a push, and she was fast becoming bilingual.
    It was obvious to her that he wanted her here, and not only for the cooking and cleaning, even if he didn't realize it yet. She sank back slightly into the arms that held her. Her eyes closed as she let the sensations wash over her. His scent enveloped her senses. He smelled like leather and horses, and a