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By Any Other Name	By : cowgirl65 Category: 1 through F > The Big Valley Views: 2468 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I in no way own The Big Valley, the characters or situations from the show. I make no money from writing this, just the personal satisfaction of (hopefully!) entertaining those who love the show as much as I do.

Chapter List
- 6
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- 8
Jarrod stretched and yawned before blinking his eyes open. Something was missing. He reached over to find the other side of the bed empty before the abrupt thought came into his mind.
Beth was dead.
But it wasn’t Beth he was reaching for; it was Heather, the woman who made him laugh and feel alive again. He glanced at the clock and realized he’d slept later than usual, which was probably why the lovely blonde wasn’t beside him. Jarrod pushed off the covers and as he dressed for the day, thought about the last few mornings and the nights that preceded them. Heather told him that it didn’t make sense for him to hire a housekeeper since, as she put it, they were already ‘keeping house’. And Jarrod had to agree it made sense to have her live there. It would save the cost of a second apartment and he already knew how much he enjoyed having dinner with Heather. To be able to have breakfast, not to mention the pleasure of waking up to see her golden hair spread across his pillow and chest, was worth any gossip from the neighbours about having such a young lady as a live in domestic and well worth the extra amount he decided to pay her.
Jarrod took himself to the bathroom to finish getting ready for the day. He heard the soft clink of china from downstairs along with the smell of biscuits and coffee. It was Saturday; they had the whole day to themselves and as he shaved, Jarrod busied himself thinking of what they could do. Maybe a picnic, he decided, as long as the weather held out. They could rent a buggy and spend the day by the ocean. Plans made, he whistled on his way down the stairs.
He didn’t find Heather in the kitchen, but the coffee was on the stove and Jarrod poured himself a cup. She wasn’t in the dining room, either, and Jarrod eventually found her in the study, her feet tucked up under her skirts on the settee, a book in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. A lone curl had escaped the comb she wore to hold her hair back and Jarrod gave in to the urge to walk quietly behind her and tuck it behind her ear.
Heather jumped, startled. “Jarrod!” she accused. “You could have made me spill my coffee and ruined the book!”
Jarrod took the volume out of her hands and read the title. “ ‘A Dissertation On the Origin and Foundation of the Inequality of Mankind’ by Jean Jacques Rousseau.” He raised an eyebrow in mild surprise. “Heavy reading for first thing in the morning.”
Heather blushed slightly. “I started it yesterday and wanted to finish,” she said diffidently. “I’ll get you your breakfast.”
Jarrod stopped her with an upraised hand and gave the book back to her. “Nonsense. Go ahead and keep reading; I’m perfectly capable of fending for myself.” Heather gave him a sweet smile and Jarrod resisted the urge to kiss her, knowing just what that would lead to. “But when you’re done, I thought it might be nice to take a ride down the coast and have a picnic. If you’re free,” he added slyly.
Heather laughed. “I’ll check my schedule, but I should be able to fit you in,” she teased. “I’ll go pack a lunch in a few minutes.” She looked down at her dress. “Should I change into riding clothes?”
Jarrod sat on the edge of the settee and chuckled softly. “I just assumed we’d take a buggy; I hadn’t actually thought about asking if you rode. A lot of ladies from the city don’t.”
“Well, then, it’s a good thing I’m not from the city.” She looked at him earnestly. “I love riding, Jarrod. Would you mind if we took a couple horses instead of a buggy?”
“If that’s what you want, then that’s what we’ll do.” Jarrod got to his feet and kissed her cheek. “I’m going to grab some breakfast and then we can head out. We can just pick up lunch at a café I know.”
Jarrod hoped the day would turn out just as sunny as his current mood.

*

A gentle breeze blew across the bluff as Jarrod emptied the last of the wine into Heather’s glass. He leaned back on his elbows and watched her as she gazed over the ocean. She was a remarkable horsewoman, he reflected, thinking of the way she’d handled the spirited gelding she chose for their ride. Not the genteel ladies’ mount he’d expected her to pick, but then again, Heather was full of surprises today.
“So you read Rousseau,” he commented.
Heather turned to him, an attractive glow on her cheeks from the fresh sea air. “His theories on the nature of man and society are fascinating,” she defended with a smile. “And it was on your bookshelf.”
“I’m not criticizing,” he assured her, “it’s just not the sort of thing I expected to find you reading. ‘Jane Eyre’, perhaps.” His eyes held a twinkle of mischief.
Heather blushed slightly. “Well, I’ve read that too,” she admitted. “I hope you don’t mind that I’m plundering your library.”
“Not at all.” Jarrod took a sip from his glass. “I’m just realizing that I don’t really know a lot about you, other than the obvious.” At her questioning glance, he elaborated, “You’re devastatingly beautiful, an amazing cook, my shirts have never been cleaner and you are an absolute lioness in bed.”
Heath laughed and blushed again. “Well, what else do you need to know?” she asked.
“Oh, where you grew up, how you learned to ride so well, why you ended up here.” He paused and looked at her intently. “I’m not meaning to pry and you certainly don’t have to tell me anything, I suppose I’d just like to know more about you.”
Heather shrugged. “Not much to tell, really. I grew up in a little town up on the Stanislaus, a place called Strawberry. Not much left there anymore.”
The name seemed familiar and it took Jarrod a moment to place it. “It had a mine, didn’t it?” At her nod, he added, “My father owned that mine for a while, many years ago. I don’t think I’ve ever been there, though.”
“You didn’t miss much,” Heather told him. “When the mine gave out, the people left. Now it’s all but a ghost town, living with memories.”
“And your family?”
“My mama was beautiful, warm and soft,” Heather said wistfully, “and in a way, very strong. I never knew my father. It was hard for my mama to raise me by herself but she always did the best she could.” She looked at Jarrod and he thought he detected a glint of tears before she turned away again. “She died a few months ago. I buried her in the potter’s field outside of town. I wasn’t about to be beholden to my Uncle Matt or his wife, so I came to San Francisco. It was hard to find work that paid enough to live on and that’s how I ended up where you found me.” She hung her head and Jarrod could see the shame on her face.
He set down his glass before gently lifting her chin and turning her head so she faced him. With tender fingers, he wiped the tears off her cheeks. “If you were selling, I was buying,” he told her. “I think that makes us even. And I’m sorry about your mother.”
“Thank you, Jarrod,” she whispered as he gathered her into his arms.
He leaned down and kissed her. “Now what can I do to bring that smile back to your face?” he mused out loud. He moved his mouth to her neck. “Maybe this?” A hint of a smile came to her face as his hand slid across her hip. “Maybe this?” Then, knowing she wasn’t wearing a corset under her riding outfit, he said, “How about this?” and quickly moved to tickle the sensitive skin along her ribs.
“Jarrod!” Heath protested, laughing as she tried to get away. Jarrod’s eyes gleamed wickedly as he pinned her to the blanket and continued his assault. Heather squirmed as he kept on tickling, still laughing and protesting until tears ran down her face. He took pity on her after a moment and stopped, his hand moving instead to caress her breast. His manhood was already hard from Heather’s writhing beneath him and he pushed it against her as he rapidly undid her riding pants.
“Jarrod, someone might see,” she protested at their exposed location.
“Then we should give them a good show,” he said devilishly as he pulled the pants and undergarments off her legs. He brought his mouth down on hers to stifle any more protests and fumbled his own pants open with one hand to let his erection spring free. Jarrod quickly parted her thighs with his and rammed his cock into her with one hard motion. Heather gasped in shock, not quite ready for his abrupt assault, but wrapped her arms and legs around him tightly when he rose up with a hint of concern in his eyes.
“Ride me hard, Jarrod,” she said and Jarrod didn’t hesitate to slam into her again. He might not have given her any time to prepare, but her center was already drenched in moisture and his massive organ slid in and out of her tight tunnel with ease. He crushed his lips against hers and his hips established a vicious rhythm. His hot length pounded into her and Heather whimpered under the onslaught; but when he looked into her eyes, they were filled with dark lust. Jarrod felt his shaft swell even larger from the desire he saw on her face. He didn’t hold back; he was remorseless as he hammered away at her pussy and soon his cock was pulsing in exaltation as the sounds of Heather’s climax were ripped from her throat. He thrust into her until every last tremor subsided and slowly pushed himself up to gently kiss her lips.
“Heather, if I’m ever too rough…” he started, but she silenced him with a smile and a finger on his lips.
“I like it that way, too, Jarrod,” she assured him. “When you’re done with me, it feels like nothing else and I like that feeling. But just in case someone does come along…”
Heather reached down and drew his pants back over his hips. He chuckled when she pushed him off to retrieve her own and quickly pulled her back into a warm embrace when she was clothed.
“You are the most amazing woman I’ve ever met,” he murmured into her hair as she nestled against him and felt a rush of wonder at how complete he felt with Heather Thomson in his arms.
- 6
- 7
- 8
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By Any Other Name