Savage In Silk

by Donna Comeaux Zide

  His hand reached her, fingers lightly caressing as he swept the wet black locks back from her face. Reaching beneath her arms with both hands, he easily lifted her forward so that her face was close to his. Mariah’s skin was damp and rosy from the heat and Jared softly captured her mouth. She wriggled momentarily against him, stopping as she felt that her actions only increased his ardor.

  Mariah was silently cursing at Jared for his teasing kisses softly planted across her neck and throat, but more at herself for her traitorous body, against her will, was responding to the first tender caresses he’d shown her since taking her from the Blackfoot. Frustrated tears slipped down her cheeks, mixing with droplets of water as he shifted her body forward, lifting it slightly, then bringing her down on him, spiked by his hard, male desire.

  He smiled at her outward appearance, her face cold and angry while her body reacted and the warmth that sheltered his shaft palpitated with response. Her breasts bobbed temptingly just above the water and pulling her forward, he traced a light trail around each rounded globe, noticing her eyes closed. Against her own will, her head fell back as she purred under his attentions. They were both breathing hard and unable to take it longer. Jared drew her up and down on him, the action churning up the water as though it were a small ocean tossed by a tempest. Mariah had abandoned herself to the pleasure, her fingers caressing tiny circles on his chest until, as ecstasy grabbed her, her fingers dug into the damp curls, pulling then releasing as wave after wave of feeling engulfed her. Her nipples, taut with response, were hard against his chest as she collapsed weakly against him. She’d taken him along with her, her inner body vibrating like tiny fingers, bringing him to a floating release.

  Breathless, they stared at each other; each of them wishing it could be the way it was in the beginning. Jared broke the spell, his mouth twisting with ironic humor. “I’m not sure what makes you such a passionate little witch. You’re pure savage inside those fancy silk dresses. Whether it’s your Indian background or an inheritance from Lil, you lose yourself every time I put it into you.” He drew one finger lightly down the tip of her nose. “I wonder what my blood-brother thought of that.”

  Mariah had been so relaxed, she’d missed the slight narrowing of his eyes that warned of impending sarcasm. Now, as he lifted her from the tub and wrapped a large towel around her, his face had gone serious as he brooded over his own remark.

  Mariah smiled spitefully, knowing the idea of Gray Hawk living with her still bothered him. As she toweled her hair, fluffing it dry, she spoke with a sad note of longing in her voice. “Your brother was every inch a man, and he had one quality you seem to lack…kindness.” She waited until she had his undivided attention. “He never struck me. I would have been happy there if you hadn’t come!”

  Jared refused to show any reaction to the petulant accusation. “And why should I worry over what makes you happy? I think you have our situations reversed. Your place is to make your husband happy. I intend to see that you fulfill your marital obligations.” He stalked from the room, tying his robe, and the echo from the slamming door resounded, covering the sound of her voice cursing him.

  Chapter 17

  The weeks following her return had drifted into a blur for Mariah; every boring day was spent in the same way. She rose late, ate, dawdled about the house with nothing to do, then she would be forced to share the evening meal with her mother and her husband. Those dinners were the most galling of all the things she was subjected to, worse than knowing he cavorted with Lil; that he was brazenly, openly unfaithful to her. Each meal was the same, with Jared and Lil sharing an animated conversation and laughter, each of them intent on making sure she was aware of her ignominious position. Lil flirted openly, her hand caressing Jared’s. Mariah had taken to drinking more wine than usual, to dull the sound of their voices—Jared’s low and husky, Lil’s sultry with sexual overtones.

  She was a young, caged lioness, allowed no exercise or freedom until she was sure she would go mad. Whatever Jared believed she had done couldn’t warrant this kind of cruel, drawn-out incarceration. Mariah’s eyes constantly wore a haunted, desperate glaze. One day, a month after her return, she heard Lil giggling, and realizing Jared was occupied, she made a swift decision to make a break for freedom. Furtively, like an escaping prisoner, she sneaked out of the front door, and seeing no one, made a dash for the barn. Not even stopping to saddle her gray mare, she jumped up and was on her way, desperately looking back to make sure she hadn’t been observed. As she raced toward the mountains, the animal seemed to sense her urgency. She came to the creek, pulling up sharply on the bridle. Jared sat casually atop Kito, leaning on the saddle pommel as though he’d been waiting patiently for hours. He made a pretense of yawning as she cast a frustrated glare at him.

  “You’re so predictable, Mariah. You seem to have lost that spark of originality that was so enchanting!” A movement of his knees nudged his horse forward and taking the reins from her, he led the mare back toward the ranch.

  Mariah slumped, her posture indicating how vanquished her spirit had become. Utterly defeated, she was beyond caring whether he would punish her for her attempted escape. Curiously, when they returned to the house, he merely told her to go to her room, his voice calm and reserved. She had not questioned him about the voices she heard in Lil’s room, but knowing her mother’s passionate nature, she assumed that Lil had found alternate sources of pleasure.

  Two weeks later, Lil received a letter from St. Louis. They were all together, gathered in the parlor, as Mariah read a novel and Jared played checkers with Lil near the fire. Surprised at a letter addressed to her with John Randall’s address atop it, Lil opened it and read it while Jared stared curiously at her.

  Lil looked up with a stunned expression, allowing the letter to fall into her lap. She picked it up once more, and then with a triumphant smile, rose and handed it to Mariah.

  “Good news, Lil? Somebody leave you a fortune?” Jared joked, glancing from her to Mariah. As he watched, Mariah stood up, her face blanching a ghostly white before she stumbled from the room. Jared rose and picked up the letter. With a polite expression of regret, John Randall had written to inform Lil that her mother had passed away from a heart attack. Susannah’s will had bequeathed the ranch to Lil, along with a trust fund for its maintenance. The exact figure was well over an astounding one hundred thousand, and he suddenly realized the reason for Lil’s catlike exultation. John had ended the letter by denouncing Mariah’s willful actions as the direct cause of Susannah’s death. He told Lil that Mariah was either her responsibility, as the girl’s natural mother, or her new husband’s, but that no inheritance would come to Mariah on his death. He planned to leave his entire estate to a maiden aunt in Boston. Jared looked up, shocked by the man’s viciousness in accusing his adopted daughter of Susannah’s death.

  “Isn’t it wonderful, darling? I’m free at last, we can travel—Europe, Asia, anywhere we want to go! It serves that little bitch right, losing her inheritance. We can leave her here and do anything we want!”

  Jared crumpled the letter and threw it in the fire, glaring disgustedly at her exuberant expression. Lil didn’t even have the courtesy to mourn her mother’s death a second before deciding what she’d do with the proceeds. His look momentarily dampened her high spirits and he turned without a word and left the room.

  Pausing before his wife’s room, Jared listened for sounds of weeping. Puzzled at the silence, he entered to find Mariah lying on her face, her head turned toward the wall and her hands clenched tightly over her head. She made no acknowledgment of his entry and even when he sat next to her on the bed, she remained silently withdrawn.

  “Look, Mariah…he was just being spiteful. It’s stupid to blame you for Susannah’s death. Just because you stood up for your rights—that wasn’t enough to cause her heart attack.” He rubbed her shoulder, uneasy with her silence but wanting to console her.

  Mariah replied in an emotionless, dead tone, “I am respo
nsible; if I’d done as she’d asked, she’d be alive now!” She twisted her head to look at him, her eyes burning feverishly. “Does one more death count, Jared? You told me I’m responsible for Clay…now I can add Susannah to the list. I wish it had been me instead. She never harmed anyone in her entire life!”

  The tension built in the atmosphere of the room. It was unnatural for Mariah to hold back her tears. Jared grasped her arms, pulling her close to him. “If you want to cry, baby, go ahead. There’s no one to see but me.”

  Mariah shook her head, wild-eyed, and struggled in his arms. “No, let me go! You should be with Lil, gloating and deciding how to spend the money. Don’t waste your time offering me sympathy, Jared.” The pitch of her voice rose with every breathless word and he could see that in a moment she would explode into hysteria. There was a wild, burning glaze covering the green of her eyes. She suddenly giggled madly, shaken with helpless laughter at her situation. “Will you plan to do away with me now, Jared, or merely seek a divorce?”

  There was nothing he could do but slap her, hard and savagely, to shock her out of the hysteria. She was stunned for a minute as her cheek whitened from the heavy blow, then clearly showed the imprint of his hand in a bright red splotch. The bottled-up tears burst free, coursing down her cheeks as she sobbed. He gathered her close, his lips touching the soft, silken hair as she wept bitterly for her adopted mother’s passing. She clung to him as though she would drown without his support, and lowering her gently to her back, Jared planted soft, tender kisses across her face, his lips tasting salty tears as he comforted her. Mariah wouldn’t let go of him but she moved slightly, allowing him room to lie beside her. He continued to hold her close until she quieted and the storm of grief had passed.

  Mariah was drained, helplessly alone in the world except for the strong arms that cradled her so protectively. Jared watched her features, concern reflected in his darkened blue irises.

  “You’ll be all right now, Mariah. Do you want to be alone?”

  It was the last thing she wanted, for alone she would dwell on her mistakes, one of which she felt had killed her mother, whether Jared denied the truth or not. In an artless, half-remembered innocence, she begged him to stay and he did as she asked. Her arms entwined his neck as he took her gently, temporarily recapturing the lost sense of tenderness that had existed in the first freshness of their love.

  Chapter 18

  Since the time Mariah had learned of Susannah’s death, five weeks before, a subtle change had come over her relationship with Jared. He was still distant, unwilling to trust her, but the constant atmosphere of belittlement and censure had vanished. Lil continued to hold her triumph over her daughter, slurring her whenever possible, but even that ceased when Jared coldly informed her that Mariah was his wife and, as such, only he would discuss her character.

  Now, finding Mariah in her room, Jared entered and closed the door, seating himself in a chair by the window. Mariah was occupied sewing a dress. She had found that work kept her from dwelling on unpleasantness. She glanced up, wondering what he wanted with her. He’d been spending more and more time with her lately.

  “Mariah, I’ve been doing some serious thinking. I’m returning to San Francisco.” He looked around, frowning at the walls as though they annoyed him. “This hell-hole is depressing. It’s time I saw a few cheerful faces again, had a good time.” He gazed at her, his eyes unreadable.

  This is it, Mariah thought, clasping her hands together to still the instant shaking of her fingers. He was leaving her and taking Lil along! She flushed with embarrassment at the thought of being an abandoned wife, and a heavy sigh broke from her. She refused to beg him and decided to concentrate on her needlework instead. She stubbornly insisted on waiting until he left the room to give in to her frustrations.

  So, she doesn’t want to go, he thought dejectedly. He’d given her a chance and she had obviously wanted to stay here. “I suggest you start packing now, Mariah. Whether you like it or not, you’re going with me. Tomorrow we’ll go to Myer’s Landing for supplies; you’d better make a list of things we’ll need. We’ll be traveling by horse over the Divide and through the Rockies.” He stood up, defeated by her silence and stalked angrily from the room.

  Mariah stared after him, open-mouthed. He wanted her to go, not Lil! Still, it had hardly been a warm invitation and she recalled his previous threat to abandon her when he tired of her. Suppose he should leave her, alone in San Francisco, with no money and no way to earn a living? She pushed the terrifying thought away, burying it deep and instead allowed the excitement of leaving this place, with its horrible memories, to engage her imagination. Immediately, she began to pack, choosing only the most essential items. From experience, trekking across the mountains with Gray Hawk, she knew how little could be carried, even with a pack horse. If they left soon, they’d still be traveling through snows; the spring thaw didn’t set in until early April and it was only the first of March.

  How strange, she thought. In May she would be eighteen and she’d been here only since last June but already it seemed like an eternity; she had lived a lifetime in this hateful place! Regardless of how strange or different San Francisco would be, the change would be delightful. Mariah had heard stories of fortunes made overnight, of how wild and boisterous the Forty Niners’ town was. She knew Jared had dealt in a casino and she found herself wondering if he would take up the profession again. Somehow the idea bothered her but again she put it from her thoughts and continued to pack.

  The sun, high overhead in a clear, startlingly blue sky, did nothing to take the chill out of the crisp mountain air. Mariah took a deep breath, plodding stubbornly on through the heavy snows of the pass, refusing to weaken and ask for a rest. Toughened by her stay with the Blackfoot, she remained silent, carrying on as long as Jared could.

  Surely we must be in California by now, she thought. They’d been walking and riding for over seven weeks now, up and down steep slopes and ravines, and still the high mountains seemed endless, one jagged peak stretching after another. Finally, when she was ready to drop from exhaustion, Jared turned to signal her that they would make camp for the night. Gratefully, she collapsed for a few minutes of well-deserved rest before gathering firewood for the night. Her Indian skills at making camp and cooking over an open fire had surprised Jared, and the pride she held in that small triumph had kept her going, fueling her flagging strength. Though the work was hard, it served another purpose; it kept her mind occupied, kept it from the recurring worry of what would happen to her when they reached their destination.

  Jared joined Mariah by the blazing fire, squatting down to warm his hands as he watched her prepare the evening meal. As he watched her sure, quick movements, Jared had to admit he owed Gray Hawk a debt. The very proper young girl he’d brought overland from Myer’s Landing had known nothing of preparing a campsite. As he remembered, that girl had been more concerned with the proper number of petticoats to wear. Mariah’s acquired skills amazed him and he was thankful that while trying to lead them through the mountain passes, he hadn’t had to coddle her. With never a complaint about the steady pace, she did more than her share of the heavy work. He was rapidly discovering that Mariah was not only soft and lovely, but possessed an underlying strength he greatly admired.

  Mariah served the food, well aware that Jared was glowering in her direction. Now what had she done? It seemed nothing pleased him. A sudden burst of temper made her slam the rabbit stew onto the metal plate with unusual force and Jared took note of the action, his face creasing with amusement. Mariah had regained her spirited nature as soon as she had left Lil’s grating influence behind. She served herself and sat, stiffly proper and as far away from him as she could without losing the warmth of the fire.

  Jared spooned the savory stew into his mouth and sat lost in thought, remembering the ugly incident that had greeted them when they’d sought supplies in Myer’s Landing.

  Reaching the small settlement, they’d been met with
openly hostile stares. Everyone knew what had happened to Clay Hamilton and though Jared had been cleared of the charge of murder, the townspeople still believed in his guilt. He’d ignored them but Mariah had been mortified by the sneers of the men and the undisguised gossiping of their wives. She had tensed next to him, both of them aware that she was considered the wanton cause of Clay’s death. He’d been proud of the way she held her head high, daring anyone to state aloud what they were all whispering about.

  After they had run the gauntlet of the main street, they’d entered Keating’s Dry Goods and he’d browsed while Mariah gave her list of supplies to Mr. Keating. Staring at a new rifle in the glass case and wondering if he should buy it for the trip, Jared had barely heard Keating’s derogatory remarks but Mariah’s offended gasp was clearly audible.

  “I don’t make a habit out a’ outfittin’ murderers and whores! I’ll thank you to take yourselves out a’ my store. Give the place a bad name and decent folk won’t trade here!”

  Jared had slowly turned to face the paunchy, ill-kempt store-owner. Only the deathly quiet tone of his voice betrayed any agitation. Mariah had flashed him a frightened glance, desperate to leave and avoid trouble, but he’d ignored it and obstinately pursued the matter.

  “I’m sure I misunderstood you, Keating.” He stepped up to the counter and his hand snaked out, catching the man’s shirt at the collar and twisting until the jowly face began to redden. “We’ve come to get supplies for a long trip,” he explained in a slow, condescending tone, as though he were explaining to a child. He’d thrown a large amount of cash on the counter and continued, “Now me, I’ll be just as happy to leave this stinking town as you’ll be to see me go. Before I lose my temper, Keating…fill my wife’s list.” His grip eased and he watched the man turn from a bright red to a pale, sickly white. “One more thing…you owe my wife an apology. I suggest you make it…now.” He’d left no doubt in the man’s mind what he would do if the man failed to apologize. Keating lowered his eyes and mumbled his excuses. “Louder, Keating, I don’t think Mrs. Bryant heard you!” The man repeated the words in a loud clear tone and then with a last, scared glance, scrambled off to collect their supplies.