Only Mine

by Elizabeth Lowell

  “Then there was affection between them.”

  “Perhaps.” Jessica set aside the embroidery and rubbed her hands together as though chilled. “But I think not. Mother was a commoner whose family was desperately poor. The earl was an aristocrat who desperately needed a male heir. I think desperation makes for a very difficult marriage bed. I know mother very much preferred to sleep alone, but she wasn’t permitted to unless she was breeding.”

  Jessica’s bleak eyes revealed much that her careful words did not.

  “It isn’t that way in all marriage,” Willow said.

  “It was in the marriages I saw. It was families and fortunes that married, not man and woman. It would have been that way in the marriage my guardian tried to arrange for me.” Jessica turned and faced Willow. “But it isn’t like that for you and Caleb. You come to his bed willingly. He doesn’t…hurt you. Does he?”

  Laughter and memory combined to tint Willow’s cheeks a bright pink. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t have spoken so frankly about the private side of marriage, but she sensed Jessica must have been been ill-prepared for being a wife in more important ways than her lack of skill in the kitchen.

  Willow also suspected that she had stumbled on the source of the tension between Wolfe and his wife.

  “I’m more than willing to bed my husband, I fear. I’ve been known to seduce Caleb quite shamelessly.” Willow bent closer and whispered in Jessica’s ear. “In fact, as soon as possible after this babe is born, I’m looking forward to becoming Caleb’s woman in every way once more. I’ve missed it so much. I never feel so closely bound to him as I do when we share our love in that very special way.”

  Jessica couldn’t help but smile in response to Willow’s sparkling eyes and pinkened cheeks. “Caleb is lucky to have you.”

  “I’m the lucky one.” Willow smiled at Jessica. “Any more questions? Don’t be shy. Growing up as you did, I doubt you had many women with whom you could talk about such things.”

  “I had only one friend.”

  “You must miss her.”

  “Him, not her. Yes, I miss him terribly. Our friendship didn’t survive our marriage.”

  “Having seen how possessive Wolfe is, I can understand it,” Willow said. “Your friend must have decided that discretion is indeed the better part of valor.”

  “You misunderstood me. Wolfe was my friend. Now he is my husband.” Jessica grimaced and changed the subject quickly. “There is another way in which you’re very different from my mother.”

  Willow smiled encouragingly. “Yes?”

  “Pregnancy was very difficult for her, yet you seem not to suffer.”

  “Oh, I’ll be glad enough to carry the babe in my arms rather than in my womb,” Willow admitted. “Just as I’ll be glad not to wallow clumsily when I walk, not to visit the privy hourly, and not to require my husband’s strong arm to pull me out of my favorite chair.”

  “But you’re healthy,” Jessica said seriously. “You can walk across the room without fainting, you can eat without vomiting, and you don’t…”

  Jessica’s voice died as she shuddered beneath another unwanted eruption of memory.

  “What?” coaxed Willow.

  “You don’t weep and scream and curse your fate.”

  “Dear Lord. Was that what your mother did?”

  Another shudder wracked Jessica. Her hands became fists, as though that would prevent the gathering pressure of nightmares from erupting into memories she had forgotten long ago, because remembering was unbearable.

  “And you don’t curse Caleb for making you pregnant,” Jessica continued urgently, determined to have it all said, all questions asked. “Do you?”

  “Curse Caleb?” Willow sounded and looked appalled. Impulsively, she took Jessica’s cold fists, uncurled the fingers, and placed Jessica’s hands on the firm mound of her pregnancy. “Feel it. Feel the baby kick and turn and wriggle. Can you feel it?”

  At first, Jessica tried to pull away, for the gesture called back more of her own childhood, when her mother had grabbed her daughter’s hands and pressed them against her womb, shouting at her daughter to feel the babe, to feel it moving, proof that this one would not be stillborn. But not once had Jessica felt a babe move. Not once had the pregnancies ended in a live birth.

  Willow’s belly was warm and firm and resilient, and beneath the supple skin something drummed against Jessica’s hands.

  “It’s moving,” Jessica breathed, shocked. “It’s alive!”

  “Of course. The blessed little thing is as active as a flea.”

  “No, you don’t understand. It’s alive.”

  Willow laughed softly, bemused by the wonder on Jessica’s face.

  “Yes, it’s alive,” Willow agreed. “Another life is growing inside me. A beautiful miracle. How could I curse the man who created this new life with me?”

  Jessica said nothing, for she was too transfixed by the vigorous life in Willow’s womb to think coherently.

  “Here,” Willow said, shifting one of Jessica’s hands. “Can you feel the baby’s head, all round, just fitting in your palm?”

  Breathlessly, Jessica nodded.

  “Now give me your other hand,” Willow said. She moved it to the other side of her abdomen. “Feel it kick? A tiny little foot, but already so strong. Every week it gets bigger and stronger. Lately, it seems to grow an inch a day.” She laughed. “Soon it will be strong enough to be born, and then I’ll see Caleb hold his child and smile at me.”

  “You aren’t afraid?”

  “I’m strong. I’m healthy. My mother had babies without difficulty.” Willow hesitated, then admitted, “Caleb wanted me to go to the fort months ago, but the weather has been too bad. Besides, I wanted our child to be born here. I didn’t want to be in a strange place with strangers around me.”

  “When the time comes, I’ll help you,” Jessica said. “If you wish it. Lady Victoria saw that I had some small training, though I’ve never used it. She wanted me to be prepared if my future husband owned a remote country estate.”

  Willow said simply, “I’d like to have you nearby.”

  “Then you shall.”

  With a lifting of her heart, Jessica picked up her embroidery again and resumed working on the christening gown. For the first time, she allowed herself to hope that the gown wouldn’t serve as a tiny shroud for a stillborn babe.

  “OH, do play, please,” Jessica coaxed Caleb. “Reno told me you play quite beautifully. It would be wonderful to hear music again.”

  “That’s the thing about being a Western wife,” Wolfe said, giving Jessica a taunting look. “You’re deprived of all kinds of civilized things.”

  “Not music,” Caleb said. “Not unless you want to be.” He put the harmonica to his lips. A beautiful chord floated through the room. “Of course, a harmonica isn’t some fancy chamber music done in four-part harmony.”

  “Do that again,” Jessica said, startled. Then she heard the blunt command in her voice and flushed. “Please. It was very pretty.”

  “It wasn’t Bach,” Wolfe said.

  “Do hush up,” Jessica said sweetly. “If I had wanted Bach, I would have packed my violin over the Rockies and made all of you suffer through a nightly recital.”

  Rafe laughed. “You tell him, Red.”

  Despite himself, Wolfe smiled. “Actually, I like Bach.”

  “You would,” Reno said. “You spent too long in civilization.”

  Caleb lifted the harmonica and blew gently. All conversation stopped as the first, simple notes of “Amazing Grace” filled the room. Reno and Willow began singing, falling easily into the patterns of harmony they had learned as children. Jessica’s breath went out in a sigh of pleasure as brother and sister sang with voices perfectly blended.

  After a moment another voice wove through the other two in a rhythmic echo that had no words. When Jessica looked at Rafe, she realized that he was humming in flawless counterpoint.

  Grimly Wol
fe measured the pleasure and admiration in Jessica’s face as she listened to Reno’s voice and Rafe’s haunting music. Even as Wolfe told himself that she was every bit as admiring of Caleb and Willow, Wolfe knew it didn’t matter. It was Jessica’s clear appreciation of the Moran brothers that flicked like a whip over Wolfe’s raw nerves.

  Nor were Reno and Rafe immune to Jessica’s effortless charm. Their eyes kindled with special warmth when she laughed, when she smiled, when she walked into the room. Though neither brother had given her so much as an improper look, the knowledge that Jessica took pleasure in their company—but not in her husband’s—was like an acid in Wolfe’s soul. The fact that he had worked relentlessly to make her uncomfortable in his presence only made the result more bitter.

  I never should have brought her here. I should have guessed Reno would be wintering over with his sister. I should have known what effect Jessica’s fey blue eyes and laughter would have on a lonely man. God knows the effect they have on me.

  Or rather, the Devil knows. I want Jessica like Hell burning. But I can survive that. What I can’t survive is watching her flit like a silken butterfly around those damned handsome Moran brothers.

  I should grab Jessi and leave.

  But Wolfe couldn’t do that. He cared too much for Willow to deprive her of Jessica’s company, especially after Willow had refused to leave the ranch in order to give birth.

  When Caleb began a ballad set in waltz time Jessica began humming and keeping time with her fingertips.

  “Wolfe?” she asked hopefully, wanting to dance.

  He shook his head. He was tempted, but didn’t trust himself. If he held her in his arms, his body would state its hunger in unmistakable terms.

  “I need some water,” Wolfe said, heading for the kitchen.

  Jessica’s eyes followed him every step of the way.

  “Never let it be said that Matthew Moran sat on his hands when a beautiful woman wanted to dance,” Reno said.

  He went to where Jessica was sitting, bowed, and held out his hand. She put her fingers on his and stood.

  “Thank you, kind sir.”

  Jessica smiled, curtsied, and stepped into Reno’s arms with a grace that had been learned from the finest tutors in the British Empire.

  In the kitchen, Wolfe drank one cup of water, then another, cursing silently the whole time. He had wanted very much to hold Jessica, to feel her softness and warmth, to stand so close to her that he could smell her delicate rose perfume and see the intense clarity of her eyes.

  Now another man was doing all those things.

  The cup hit the sink with a metallic cry that was lost in the music of Caleb’s harmonica. A few silent strides brought Wolfe to the kitchen door. He stood in the shadows there, leaning against the door frame, watching Jessica with a hunger he could no longer hide. Her raspberry silk dress made her skin glow like fragile porcelain lit from within. The simple chignon Willow had taught Jessica to create emphasized the delicate lines of her face. Tendrils of hair escaped to lie in soft curves at her temples, nape, and ears.

  Even as Wolfe felt anger snaking through his body at the sight of his wife burning like a candle flame in another man’s arms, Wolfe reminded himself there was nothing improper about the waltz. Though Reno’s unusual size made an intense contrast to Jessica’s fragile femininity, Reno was holding her properly, neither too close to his body nor too familiar in the placement of his hands. Nor was Jessica clinging too much. They were simply dipping and turning and skimming gracefully around the living room to the haunting melody played by Caleb.

  Then the darkly handsome Reno smiled down at Jessica and began singing in his fine voice about “One morning, one morning, one morning in May…” when a soldier spied a Scots lass dreaming by a clear meadow stream. The soldier’s manly charms quickly seduced the pretty girl, who pleaded for his arms and his name in marriage. The arms she received, and more besides, but not his name. He was already twice married—once to the army, once to a woman. Though he was a stout man, he declared he wasn’t up to the demands of yet another wife.

  Reno’s light green eyes shimmered with suppressed humor as he watched Jessica react to the wry lyrics. Her silver laughter bubbled up contagiously, drawing smiles and more laughter from everyone in the room.

  Except Wolfe. He was too angry to smile. Seeing the change wrought by Reno on Jessica’s wan appearance made Wolfe feel murderous. The only thing that prevented him from going back into the other room and wrenching his wife from Reno’s arms was the fact that Rafe was already there, cutting in neatly.

  “My turn, little brother.”

  “I’m as big as you are,” Reno pointed out.

  “You’re eleven months younger.”

  With an amused smile, Reno bowed to Jessica and released her to Rafe’s arms.

  “I’m a little rusty,” Rafe admitted. “Australians ran more to fighting and drinking than fancy footwork. I haven’t danced with a lady in a long, long time.”

  “I’m certain you’ll do fine. Anyone who walks, rides, and wields a bullwhip as well as you do has a lot of natural coordination.”

  “Thanks, but maybe you better stand on my big feet just the same. Wildflowers aren’t safe when an elephant dances.”

  Jessica ducked her head and tried not to giggle. It was impossible. Rafe towered over her, his gray eyes vivid with teasing laughter. Despite his warning, he danced well, whirling her easily around the room until she was breathless with laughter.

  Unnoticed, Wolfe leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, watching with an impassive face and eyes that promised Hell.

  Reno helped Willow to her feet and danced her carefully around the room, moving with half the speed of Rafe and Jessica. Caleb looked over his harmonica at his wife, winked, and slowed the music even more. She smiled back at him, but still couldn’t last more than twice around the room. When Reno waltzed her past Caleb’s position on the couch, she let go of her brother and settled next to her husband. He pulled her closely against his body without breaking the rhythm of the dance.

  Reno headed for Rafe and Jessica. Brother tapped brother firmly on the shoulder. Rafe winked at Jessica and spun her quickly, lifting her beyond Reno’s reach. A moment later, Reno was back again.

  “Wait,” Jessica said, smiling equally at both brothers. “There’s a way we can all dance at the same time.”

  With a few words and gentle pushes, she arranged a brother on each side of her and held out her hands expectantly. On either side, a strong, big hand closed over hers. She looked from side to side, struck by the similarity in the shape of each brother’s hand. Though their hair and eye color were quite different, their blood relationship was clear in their strength and in the flat nails of their hands.

  “Now, like this,” Jessica said. “Step right, cross over behind, dip, straighten, step right…”

  Both men caught on quickly. Soon they were moving as one on either side of Jessica.

  Wolfe stood in the doorway, staring at the woman who looked stunningly feminine caught between the two Moran brothers. Barely five feet two inches tall, she was thirteen inches shorter than either man, yet there was nothing childlike in the proportions of her body. The curves of breast and hip, waist and ankle, showed clearly against the soft folds of her dress as the cloth swirled fluidly with her movements.

  Finally the waltz wound to a slow finish. Rafe and Reno smiled over Jessica’s auburn head. Both men lifted one of Jessica’s hands to their lips and kissed it. She curtsied deeply, graceful as flame. Though neither man spoke the thought aloud, it was clear from their expressions that they were thoroughly enchanted by their dance partner.

  “Again, Caleb,” Willow murmured. “That tune is one of my favorites.”

  The strains of the waltz flowed through the room once more. A silent signal passed between the brothers. Smiling, Rafe released Jessica’s hand and sat down.

  Soon Reno and Jessica were swirling around the room again. Reno held his par
tner lightly, looking down at her with approving green eyes, singing in his fine voice. No one could hear Reno’s words but Jessica, who flushed and then laughed with transparent pleasure. Reno spun quickly, taking Jessica with him, making her skirt billow like wind-blown flame. He stopped and dipped deeply, forcing her to depend upon his strength for her balance. When she accepted his lead without protest, his smile flashed, transforming his face, making him handsome enough to stop a woman’s breath.

  An icy rage gripped Wolfe.

  When I touch her, she berates me as the viscount’s savage, yet when Reno holds her, she looks at him as though he had just come to earth on a bolt of lightning.

  I don’t know who is the greater fool—me for caring, or Reno for being taken in by the conniving little aristocrat.

  Wolfe crossed the living room with a predatory grace that warned Rafe and Caleb of what was coming. Reno didn’t notice Wolfe’s approach, for his attention was completely on Jessica’s laughter, the unusual color of her eyes, and the firelight caught in her hair. The hard masculine tap on his shoulder came as a surprise.

  “Patience, big brother,” Reno said. “You’ll get your turn.”

  “I will get all of the turns.”

  The cold anger in Wolfe’s voice made Reno’s head snap around. He took one look at Wolfe and released Jessica without a word. She started to smile at Wolfe, but when she saw his eyes her smile vanished. She stumbled as he spun her away from Reno.

  “Sorry,” she said, catching her balance by holding on to Wolfe. “You startled me.”

  Wolfe didn’t bother to politely pretend that it had been his error in rhythm rather than Jessica’s that had caused her to stumble.

  “I will do more than startle you if you insist on seducing every man within reach.”

  Wolfe’s tone was as hard as his eyes. Though his voice was too low to carry beyond Jessica, each word was distinct, making her flinch as though at a blow.

  “I wasn’t seducing—”