Texas Blonde

by Victoria Thompson

  Still smiling, he reached over and brushed the silken hair away from her cheek. Asleep, she again resembled the child he had once thought her. No trace remained of the tigress who had driven him insane last night. His smile faded as he wondered if it had really been as wonderful as he remembered. All he was really certain of was that he had never made love to a woman so completely before. He had wanted to devour her, to absorb her into himself. Even the piercing pleasure he recalled so vividly had not been quite enough to satisfy him.

  A slight sense of unease prickled against his skin, and he turned onto his side to study her face. As he did, his disquiet grew. Emotions he had hoped never to feel again churned inside him, the same emotions he had experienced after the first time they had made love. That time he had blamed them on guilt, but he no longer needed to feel guilty. He had married her. He had made everything right. Last night was sanctioned both legally and morally.

  And still he felt the weakness, that debilitating weakness he knew could destroy him. He wanted her, of course. He understood that much of it. She was the most desirable woman he had ever known. But there was more. There was the need, the need that having her simply did not satisfy. In fact, having her only made it worse.

  Josh frowned down at her lovely face. How could so tiny a creature be having such a profound effect on him? He considered this question for a long moment before shrugging it off. Really, he was being top analytical about the whole thing. He wanted her and he had her. She would share his bed every night for the rest of his life. Surely in the course of the next fifty years he would be able to slake this mysterious desire. At least he would have a lot of fun trying, he decided.

  His smile returned.

  He leaned down and kissed her sleep-flushed cheek at the exact spot where her dimple would appear. Slowly, her eyes opened, and gradually recognition dawned. "Good morning, Mrs. Logan," he said.

  Felicity blinked at the brilliance of his smile. How handsome he looked with his silver hair falling in his eyes and his jaw shaded with dark stubble. Her own lips stretched into an answering smile. "Good morning, Mr. Logan," she replied impishly.

  His eyebrows arched with disapproval. "Are we back to 'Mr. Logan' again? Last night you called me 'Joshua,'" he reminded her wickedly.

  Felicity blushed furiously at the memory of how she had sobbed out his name. His fingers reached out to lovingly stroke her burning cheek. "What do I have to do to get you to call me that again?" he taunted.

  Certain he was teasing her, Felicity hastily scrambled up to a sitting position, being extremely careful to keep herself covered with the sheet. Where on earth was her nightdress? she wondered. Could she really have slept all night in bed with Mr. Logan without any clothes at all? "It's awfully late," she said, squinting at the partially draped window. "I guess we'd better be getting up."

  "Not so fast, Mrs. Logan," he said, capturing her arm and drawing her back down beside him. "I'd like to enjoy my wife once more before I do that."

  Felicity stared at him in disbelief. Now she was certain he was teasing. "It… it's broad daylight," she pointed out, even though her lower limbs were already starting to melt against his.

  His gray eyes danced. "I don't think I can wait until dark," he said, pressing the heat of his desire against her thigh.

  She gasped, but his words stirred an unpleasant memory. "You didn't have any trouble waiting last night," she said aloud before she could stop herself.

  He frowned, obviously confused.

  "You kept me waiting for an hour," she reminded him, angered anew at that slight even though she knew she should not mention it. She knew only too well that men didn't like women who were shrewish, and here she was nagging him on her very first day as his wife.

  But to her surprise, he smiled. "Did you miss me?" he asked hopefully.

  Felicity gasped in outrage, but when she would have pulled away, he threw a leg over hers, pinning her to the bed. "Did you really think I stayed away on purpose?" he asked, grinning down into her furious face. "I had to stay there and drink with them because if they'd thought I was trying to get away, they would have guessed where I was going and followed me. I wouldn't have liked that one bit. Would you?" he asked cheerfully.

  She tried to think this over, but the heat of his body seemed to be melting her brain. "N… no," she finally admitted, forcing herself to study his chest so she would not see the teasing look in his eyes. The hair on his chest was black, lightly sprinkled with silver. Although her fingers itched to touch it, she kept them tightly clutched into the sheet that still guarded her modesty.

  "Lissy," he whispered.

  Instinctively, she raised her gaze to his.

  "I'm going to make love to you again," he said. His eyes were smoldering charcoal.

  Felicity swallowed the lump in her throat. "In the daylight?" she asked apprehensively. There were things she did not want him to see, and not just the parts of her hidden under the sheet.

  "Yes, in the daylight," he said, gently pulling the sheet loose from her grasp and confirming her worst fears. "This time I want to see your face when you say my name."

  * * *

  "I'm telling you, Asa, they've disappeared off the face of the earth!"

  Asa Gordon nodded understanding. He could readily sympathize with Smythe's frustration. The poor man had been chasing rabbits for months now, and still no sign of Storm or the girl. "Do you think they're dead?" he asked.

  The two men were in a stuffy hotel room in San Antonio. Asa lounged on the sagging bed and Smythe straddled a rickety straight-backed chair.

  "I don't know," Smythe grumbled. "But even if they were, somebody would've seen that wagon. It looks like one of them medicine show wagons, all painted up fancy. I'm starting to think they must've left Texas altogether. Maybe they went north, or west."

  Asa shook his head. "I don't think so. The old man might be scared, but he wouldn't take the girl into Indian territory. Too dangerous. And there's still some Comanches on the loose out West." He considered Storm's third option for a moment. "I doubt he'd go east, either. Seems that he once swore he'd never even let the girl back across the Mississippi. He was a fanatic about protecting her. No, I think they're still here, somewhere. Maybe they got rid of the wagon, maybe they changed their names and took up a new profession, but I'd bet a month's pay they're still in Texas."

  In spite of his apparent confidence, Asa was really going more on gut instinct than anything else. He had learned to trust that instinct, and even though he had never met Storm, he believed he understood how the man's mind worked. The photographer might crawl into a hole somewhere, pull it in after him, and stay hidden for a while, but he would never risk the girl's life, nor would he take a chance on people and places about which he knew nothing. Sooner or later, they would surface again, and when they did, Asa would hear about it.

  "I'll start in the town where they disappeared." Seeing Smythe's disgruntled frown, he smiled placatingly. "I know you've already questioned everybody there, but I'll be a new face. I've got a good cover story, too, one that'll make people eager to help me. Maybe somebody will remember something new. Now, I need some advice on a rooming house that I can use as a base of operations. Any suggestions?"

  "The one where I'm staying is fine," Smythe offered.

  Asa shook his head. "No, I've seen your landlady. She's too skinny. Skinny women are never good cooks," he said with a sly smile.

  "Oh, I forgot your preferences there for a minute," Smythe said, returning the smile. "I think I know just the place you're looking for."

  Chapter Seven

  "I wish I had my camera," Felicity said wistfully, resting her chin on her updrawn knees and gazing longingly at the way the clear, blue Texas sky canopied the rolling prairie.

  Josh stretched out on the blanket, carefully avoiding the remains of their picnic, and propped himself up on one elbow. "Why?" he asked, smiling as he watched the gentle breeze tease at her hair. He had, in fact, spent most of the four days since his
wedding smiling. He could not remember ever feeling so content.

  "Because this tree is absolutely beautiful," she said, indicating the huge cottonwood under which they sat. "With the creek behind it and my handsome husband in front of it, the whole thing would make a wonderful photograph."

  "With me in front of it!" Josh repeated in amazement, and then he saw her teasing grin. With a growl, he reached out and grabbed her, dragging her across the blanket and into his arms.

  "Mr. Logan! Someone will see us!" Felicity warned, laughing and squirming against him in a mockery of her words.

  "There's nobody within miles of this place," he argued, using his tongue to tickle her neck. Still, he knew she was right. Someone just might come along. He would have to restrain himself. Sighing with resignation, he pulled back slightly so he could see her face. To get his mind off what her glittering eyes were suggesting, he said, "Why would you like to take my picture again?"

  A little startled at the question and more than a little breathless from his nearness, she hesitated a moment before replying, not quite certain she wanted him to know the true reason. The fact was that she adored him, and she would never be able to take enough photographs of him.

  "You take a very good picture," she hedged, "and now I think I even know how to get you to smile," she added with another grin. All she had to do, it seemed, was be there. He smiled at her all the time now, a smile that indicated he was delighted with her. She basked in the glow of that delight, thrilled beyond measure that she pleased him as much as he pleased her. Their married life had thus far consisted of passionate nights during which she learned things about her body she had never even suspected and things about her husband she had never dreamed. Those nights alternated with days like this one, days so idyllic she sometimes thought she must be imagining all of it. Never in her life had she been so happy or felt so secure. All the shadowy fears that had followed her across the plains of Texas were gone now.

  "I'd like to have a picture of you, too," he said, settling her more comfortably in his arms and inhaling the sweet woman-scent of her body.

  She laughed at the idea as she reached up to stroke his cheek. "Why do you need a picture? You see me every day."

  Josh shrugged, unable to explain his reasons since he did not understand them himself. Instead he teased her. "So when you're old and fat, I can remember why I married you."

  "Ohhhh!" she cried, trying to punch him, but he smothered her struggles and planted a kiss on her outraged mouth.

  "Yes," he mused when she again lay still in his arms, "I'd like to have a picture of you looking just the way you look right now."

  "That might be a little tricky…" she said softly, rubbing her nose against the whiskery point of his chin.

  He grinned wickedly. "Not as tricky as the photograph I'd really like. What I'd really like is a picture of you just when you call me 'Joshua.'"

  Felicity gasped at this reference to their lovemaking, still the only time she ever called him by his given name. She should not have been shocked. From the things he had said to her in the few days since their marriage, she should have realized that he was liable to say just anything, no matter how outrageous. But she had learned some tricks herself in those few days. "Well," she said, pretending to consider the possibility, "I had been thinking that Cody could take a wedding portrait of us…"

  "What!" Josh shouted before he noticed the teasing twinkle in her eye. "You little…" He wrestled her to the ground and tickled her until she screamed for mercy.

  "Stop! Please! I can't stand it!" she shrieked, and finally he let her go, pulling back and turning partially away from her as if he were affronted.

  "A wedding portrait," he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest indignantly.

  Struggling to regain her breath and her composure, Felicity could not even manage to sit up, so she lay there limply on the blanket, laughing at his pique. "We really should have a wedding portrait made," she ventured after a while, trying to sound perfectly serious. "A traditional one, I mean," she clarified when he cocked an eyebrow at her.

  He thought this over. "We could go to San Antonio. There's a studio there. It's not far, and we could stay a few days. It could be our honeymoon," he suggested. He still felt a little guilty for not taking her on a wedding trip, but he simply could not afford to be away from the ranch for any length of time during the spring. Ortega would be acting up again and…

  "This is my honeymoon," Felicity corrected, instantly sobered, "and I like it just fine. I don't want to go to San Antonio or anyplace else."

  "Not even New Orleans or St. Louis?" he said, trying to tempt her. "We could go in a few months, stay as long as you like____________________"

  "I told you before, I don't want to go anywhere," she insisted, unaware that he was only baiting her.

  "Why not?" Josh taunted, more than willing to hear her repeat her reasons. They had had this discussion last week, before the wedding. He did not think he would ever tire of it.

  "Because," she said, sitting up again, "I've traveled all my life, and now that I have a real home, I want to stay here." Besides, she added silently, for the first time in my life I feel truly safe, and as long as I'm here, in your home, no one can be following me. But she didn't say that aloud. Instead, she said, "Anyway, I've been to San Antonio, and I don't-"

  Josh silenced her with a kiss, a joyous, grateful, happy kiss. "I'm glad you like it here," he said when they were both breathless.

  Felicity reached up and tenderly brushed a lock of silver hair off his forehead as she wondered why such a simple thing should please him so much. The answer came to her with surprising clarity: because of his mother. Hadn't Blanche warned her that he did not trust women because his mother had deserted him? No wonder he was glad that she liked his home and never wanted to leave it. She only wished she could assure him that she would never do what Amelia Logan had done, but he did not like to talk about her. At one point during their "honeymoon" he had started to tell her about his mother, and he had been quite relieved to learn that Blanche had already done so. He never mentioned the subject again, although he told her many other things about himself.

  "I like your ranch very much, Mr. Logan," she said with a smile, coming as close as she dared to reassuring him.

  "I own it all, you know," he said, pulling her back into his lap. "A lot of ranchers don't bother to file on their land. They figure the cattle is the only important thing, but my father always said that the land was what mattered. It would be here long after we're dead and gone. They'd only let him file on a few sections at a time, so he staked his claims in a checkerboard pattern so nobody could hedge him out until he could claim the rest."

  Felicity nodded, acknowledging her father-in-law's cleverness and marveling at her husband's pride in his heritage. "He left you quite a legacy," she remarked, thinking of how little her own father had accumulated in his life in spite of all his hard work.

  "And we'll have it to pass on. It will be here a hundred years from now, and Logans will still own it," Josh said, his eyes shining with this vision of the future.

  But Felicity only half heard him. She was still thinking about her father. Gideon Logan had his memorial, but Caleb Storm had left nothing except the knowledge he had passed along to her. If she let that die… "Joshua, will you bring me out here with my wagon someday soon so I can photograph this place?"

  Josh's attention snapped quickly from the future back to the present. His smile was slow and lazy. "I'll do anything you want when you call me 'Joshua.'"

  Knowing she had made a tactical error, Felicity tried to slip out of his grasp, but she was too late. He was already drawing her close to his chest. "We can't-" she began, but once more he silenced her quite effectively.

  His kiss was long and lingering. With his tongue, he explored the sensitive recesses of her mouth, and with his hands he stroked her body to quivering response. Felicity clung to him, savoring anew his strength and power, thankful beyond words that such
a man had chosen her as his wife.

  When he lifted his mouth from hers, she was literally panting, but her breath caught in outrage when she saw the teasing glint in his silvery eyes.

  "Mrs. Logan!" he remonstrated. "What are you doing? We can't possibly make love out here in front of God and everybody. Someone might come along and see us…" His voice trailed off as he pretended to quail under the ineffectual thrashing Felicity was giving him.

  "Oh, stop, please! I can't stand it!" he begged in a high-pitched wail apparently intended to be an imitation of her own voice.

  "You are a wicked, evil man," Felicity decreed, giving him one last shove which he pretended sent him sprawling across the blanket.

  "Yes, I am," he replied, capturing her hand and pulling her down beside him.

  And I love you madly, she thought, but she did not say it aloud. She was still uncertain how he would react to such a declaration, and she did not want to do anything to spoil this wonderful moment. "Humph," she muttered instead, pretending to pout.

  "Now," he said, settling her comfortably in the crook of his arm and leaning over so he could watch her lovely face. "Tell me the story about the little boy who was so scared of the camera he threw up."

  "Not again!" Felicity moaned in protest. She had told him a dozen humorous anecdotes from her previous life, but he seemed to enjoy this particular one out of all proportion to its levity. Perhaps his enjoyment hinged on the way she always blushed when she told it, she suddenly realized, noting the way he grinned as she felt her cheeks growing hot. "Well, there was this little boy…" she began with long-suffering.

  When, much later, Josh and Felicity drove their buggy into the ranch yard, the men had just returned from their day of work. Josh lifted his hand in greeting as they passed the group clustered near the corral in conversation, but so engrossed were they that they barely looked up to return the greeting.