Savage Thunder ww-2

by Johanna Lindsey

  “They’re no longer looking for him?”

  “There’s no point, as late as it is. No, I’ve sent the servants to bed too. Enjoy a good, long sleep. If your half-breed’s as passionate as I suspect he is, you won’t get much sleep tomorrow night.”

  “That’s allowing he is seducible.”

  “With those weapons at your disposal?” Vanessa said, her eyes giving Jocelyn the once-over. She was smiling as she closed the door behind her.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Through the open window came the sound of boot-heels clicking softly along the boardwalk across the street, then the startled hiss, barely heard, “Jesus H. Christ, you scared the dickens out o’ me, boy!” But there was no reply, and the boot clicking moved on at an even brisker pace. There was a bullfrog making a croaking racket somewhere, a distant sound, heard only when the piano player in one of the saloons down the street took a rest. The music was distant too, the player quite good, the sound soothing rather than disturbing. Every so often laughter was heard, but nothing loud enough to keep the town’s inhabitants awake.

  Jocelyn certainly couldn’t blame the muted sounds for her own wakefiilness. Considering the number of times she had been awakened in the middle of the night recently by the shrill yapping of coyotes, or by one of her guards tripping on a tent stake as he pa-trolled the perimeter of her tent, and swearing a blue streak, these late-night town sounds were peaceful. But they weren’t lulling her to sleep.

  She had tried, but she was still too keyed up, thinking about what could have happened tonight, and wondering about her relief that it didn’t. She had concluded that this deliberate seduction business just wasn’t her cup of tea. She would have to tell Vanessa, who was going to be disappointed. She had probably fallen asleep plotting tomorrow’s strategy.

  Jocelyn gave up and threw off the sheets. The room was exceedingly dark with the moon rising behind the hotel and her only window facing the front, but her eyes were adjusted enough for her to find the lamp and light it. She lowered the wick, however, to give off only a dim glow, enough to find her robe and cross to the window without mishap.

  Drawing back the curtains, she was disappointed there was nothing to see. The moonlight was so bright now, what shadows it created were black as pitch. The porch roof was in shadow, and the railing at the edge that supported the hotel sign blocked her view of the street below. Moonlight revealed the buildings across the way clearly, at least the top half of them, but no windows were lit to draw her attention.

  What she needed was a long walk to tire herself out. She was sure the guard outside her door wouldn’t mind escorting her, but the thought of Sir Parker’s outrage in the morning that she should venture out with only a minimum of protection kept her from doing it.

  She sighed, annoyed with herself, annoyed with Colt, annoyed with her predicament. If it weren’t for Longnose, she could have that walk. If she knew where Colt was, she wouldn’t need it. If she didn’t care, it wouldn’t matter and sleep would have come easily. Blast.

  How dare he disappear like that? What if they had to leave in a hurry, a very real possibility, considering how many times they had had to do so in the past?

  But she was being unreasonable. With the way Colt scouted every day, he would have known if Longnose was close and would have said something. The Englishman was probably still looking for their trail back in Arizona. And to be honest, it was the fact that Colt was likely in some other woman’s bed tonight that was bothering her enough to keep sleep away.

  This wasn’t helping. She would take that walk anyway and worry about Sir Parker later. But just as she turned from the window she heard a loud thump out in the hall, as if… as if a body had hit the floor. She stared at the door, then at her reticule clear across the room, and knew without a doubt that by the time she got her hands on her derringer inside it, the door would likely be opened and she would be out of luck. And the derringer was only good at close range. She would have to have it in hand and get behind the door to wait, but another glance at the door showed the handle starting to move.

  Without thinking about it, she slipped outside the window and dropped down to the porch roof.

  Fortunately, the slope of it was not steep, but that was where fortune ended. Too late she realized that whoever was sneaking into her room in the middle of the night was going to look outside the window when they found it empty. She didn’t doubt that she would be spotted, even in the shadows. But would they risk a shot to wake the whole town? Hadn’t they expected to find her in bed, asleep, and easy to dispose of in any number of quiet ways? Would they follow her out onto the roof?

  She ought to be screaming already. One good scream could very well scare them away. But her attire, the blasted revealing negligee she was still wearing, kept her mouth shut for the moment.

  She didn’t wait to see a head sticking out her window. The end of the roof was a mere few feet away, since only the water closet separated her room from the end of the building on this side. She would have a better chance of not being spotted at all by quickly going over the side of the roof, rather than trying to reach the next window from hers and taking the chance that it was open, since she couldn’t tell from her current position if it was or not. The railing that topped the roof in front didn’t continue along the sides, so she didn’t have anything to climb over. She had only to slip over the side at its lowest point, grasp one of the roof supports with her legs, and simply slide to the ground. Then a mad dash to the back of the hotel where the stable was and she would be safe. Some of her people were there. If she had to be hu-miliated by being caught out in her nightclothes, at least it could be kept in the family, so to speak.

  That was just what she did, even as she thought about it, though she hadn’t counted on the impetus she gained in rushing toward the corner of the roof slamming her into the railing there before she could stop.

  She didn’t wait to regain her breath. Slipping over the roof was easier work, with the short railing post there at the end giving her something to hold onto until she could locate the longer support post below with her feet.

  That was where her luck ran out, however. She swung her legs this way and that, encountering nothing but air. Belatedly, she realized she had been working on the assumption that every porch roof had support posts to hold it up. How else would the blasted thing keep from toppling over? Then where was the damned post? More importantly now, since it wasn ‘t there, how far was the drop to the ground?

  Blast it all, why hadn’t she noticed such things when she entered the hotel? There had been a few steps up to the porch at the front of the building, but that was the most she could recall. She had no idea what kind of height she was dangling from, whether the raised porch extended beyond the end of the building, or if she had ground beneath her and an even greater distance to reach it. A quick glance down showed her nothing but shadows.

  She supposed she could work her way around the front of the roof in search of the elusive support post, but her hands were already hurting from bearing her weight just these few moments. She might as well drop where she was, while she had some control over it, as opposed to slipping later and perhaps coming down on her backside instead of her feet. And yet she couldn’t dredge up the courage to take the plunge. An insidious panic was taking hold, and getting worse by the moment, adding another foot each second to the distance she must fall, until it was somehow a great bottomless pit below her.

  It took several heartbeats for her to realize her hands were no longer her sole support, that arms had wrapped around her legs to hold her up. At the same moment she realized it, she heard a soft, familiar drawl say, “Let go,” and so the breath she drew for an ear-splitting scream came out in a long sigh instead. And she let go. Just as she had hurtled herself into his arms from her coach the day they met, she trusted Colt to bring her safely to ground now.

  It wasn’t quite the same, however. This time she ended up cradled in his arms. And this time he didn’t thrust her i
mmediately away from him.

  A long silence stretched between them while she tried to make out his features in the shadows, and failed. How it was that he happened to be there right when she needed him she couldn’t imagine and wasn’t up to asking just yet.

  When the silence was broken, it was with a good deal of sarcasm on his part. “Let me guess. You have an aversion to doors, right?”

  He let her down as he said it, though he still didn’t put her away from him. In fact, he gripped her upper arms now. To steady her? She preferred to think he didn’t want to break contact yet. She certainly didn’t want to. But then his question penetrated the mush her mind had become, and she forgot how nice it had been, his holding her, and remembered instead the reason for it.

  In a rush she explained, “There was someone. I heard a noise in the hall… my reticule was too far away. couldn’t possibly reach it in… I saw the door handle turning. What else was I to do?”

  Somehow he got the gist of it. “Are you saying someone tried to enter your room, Duchess?”

  “Not tried. The door wasn’t locked. I didn’t wait around to see it open, but I’ve little doubt it did.”

  “What about your guards?”

  “There was only one, and I’m afraid he might be dead. That noise I heard—”

  He didn’t wait for her to finish, but let go of her to shove his revolver into her hand. Nor did he waste time telling her what to do with it. “Stay here,” was all he said.

  “But where are you going?”

  Stupid question, since he had already leaped up to grasp the porch roof and in mere seconds was up and over it — and gone. Jocelyn looked out at the empty moonlit street, at the shadowed hotel porch — which she was standing on, since it did extend beyond the building — at the revolver in her hand.

  It was long-barreled and heavy, not at all like her little derringer. She had never used this type of weapon, and doubted she could at the moment, with her fingers still smart-ing from holding onto the roof.

  The gun dragged at her arm after another few moments, so she cradled it while she waited, staring up at the end of the roof. She just barely made out the jagged remains of the corner support post that had once stood where she had assumed it would be, but at some time or other was broken off and never replaced. She felt better seeing that, and knowing she hadn’t been a complete dolt in her impromptu planning. But she didn’t once think about following through with her own plan now that she was on the ground, of heading back to the stable and the safety it offered. Colt had said to stay there and so she stayed right there.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  The room wasn’t empty. There were two men inside it, both riffling through the duchess’s trunks, carelessly scattering her gowns and belongings on the floor around them. One had found a jewelry case and was trying to pry the lock open with a small knife, while the other was on his knees with his head buried in the largest trunk. Neither of them gave a thought to the window that Colt entered silently. Their only concern was the door, which they glanced at nervously once or twice before Colt reached them.

  It was over within seconds, the heavy lid of the large truck slamming down on the head of one man just as he rose with some find in his fist, and Colt’s foot connecting with the jaw of the other — which was a mistake. His foot throbbing, he cursed fluently for not making use of his knife instead, which had been palmed and ready. But he did not nee^ it now, with both men out cold.

  With disgust he limped to the bed to inspect his foot for any serious damage, but no sooner had he sat down than Jocelyn’s scent assailed him and he leaped up with another round of curses. He was mad enough at that moment to slit both men’s throats, but sanity prevailed. It wasn’t their fault he had spent half the night standing in the shadows across the street, nursing a bottle of rotgut and staring at her window like a lovesick fool, imagining a half-dozen fantasies that could come true if he chose to make use of that open window.

  It had taken a battle royal with his conscience to keep him from crossing the street. So he was naturally furious that after his conscience had won, he was here anyway, in her room, and inflamed by the fact that she was below waiting on him.

  There was the slim hope that she wouldn’t be there, that she would have immediately sought out the rest of her guard to inform them of what had happened. But by the time he returned and found she had obeyed him instead, he at least had put a bridle on his lust and was in control again, even of his temper.

  “You can come inside now, Duchess.”

  Miraculously, he sounded almost pleasant calling down to her. She couldn’t know his tone was forced.

  “You mean no one was in my room?”

  “Didn’t say that. You had a couple of visitors, but they’ve been disposed of. I’ll meet you in the hall.”

  “No, wait!” she called up in a frantic whisper. “I can’t go through the lobby. What if someone should see me like this?”

  Colt stared down at her, glad the shadows didn’t allow him to see her too clearly. So she was embarrassed about being caught out in her nightclothes? She ought to worry more about letting him see her than some half-asleep desk clerk.

  “You like flirting with danger, don’t you?”

  She misunderstood him completely. “It’s not so great a distance. Couldn’t you just reach over and lift me up?”

  For a long while she saw nothing of his shadow, nor did he answer. Staring anxiously up at the end of the roof, she wondered what the problem was, or if he just hadn’t heard her request. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t done it before. Lifting her up and out of the coach that day hadn’t put much strain on him, and there wasn’t that much difference in the height here.

  She had been lucky so far that no one had come along to see her waiting there at the end of the porch. It had taken Colt more than just a few minutes to “dispose of” the intruders in her room. She shivered, wondering what he had meant by that. But she couldn’t continue to wait there indefinitely. As they had traveled north, the temperatures had been gradually dropping, with a marked difference now between day and night. Tonight was downright frigid, or so it seemed in her scanty attire. Chills had begun attacking her the moment her fear had dissipated. She simply couldn’t stand out here much longer.

  “Colt?”

  She didn’t bother to whisper this time. If he had gone back inside to await her in the hall as he’d said, she was going to be quite annoyed with him, regardless that he had just — what? Saved her again? She didn’t really know what he had done, and wouldn’t know until—

  She jumped, his hand appeared so suddenly. So he had been there all along — and heard her. Now was not the time to upbraid him for making her wait while he decided whether to lend her a hand or not. In fact, she couldn’t afford to upbraid him for anything, not unless she was willing to give him an excuse to quit, which she wasn’t. And besides, she had already known how lacking he was in gentlemanly tenden-cies. Far be it for her to expect him to change his habits now just because she was trembling with cold and loath to show herself in a well-lit hotel lobby half dressed.

  She returned his gun first, which he quickly holstered before extending his hand again. The problem now was that she couldn’t quite reach his fingers, even up on tiptoe. She started to tell.him so, but she had a feeling this was the most she could hope for, that he wasn’t going to lower that hand another inch, even if he could. For whatever reason, he didn’t want to help her back up onto that roof, but she was more determined than he was.

  She made it on the first leap, her fingers locking with his. But her feet went swaying through the air, and her fingers started to slip. She was about to cry out, anticipating a hard landing on her backside, when she was jerked up a bit so his other hand could grasp her wrist.

  Dangling by only one arm sent pain shooting through her shoulder socket, but she was up and sitting on the edge of the roof so fast, there was no time to moan about it. Under the circumstan
ces, however, she didn’t feel inclined to thank her so-called savior, especially when an insistent tug forced her immediately to her feet.

  Again she was about to upbraid him, scathingly this time, when his curt “Come on, dammit” made her grit her teeth instead and follow him up the slight incline to her window.

  Here was another unexpected problem. Her hands, raised high, only just reached the window ledge, and she knew without a doubt that with what her arms had already been through, there was no way she could hoist herself up through that window.

  She was loath to ask, but there was no help for it. “Could you please accommodate me once more with a boost up?”

  She couldn’t see his eyes moving down her body to the likely place he would have to touch to shove her through the window. His manhood, already half aroused just from his standing this close to her, came to full attention. There was no way in hell he could put his hands on her body and not do more than that.

  Nor did he think he could bend down close to her legs to offer her foot the cradle of his hands and not break his control. Enough was enough.

  “Not on your life, Duchess,” he answered sharply and with finality.

  Jocelyn’s own control snapped at that point. “Well, I’m sorry, but I just can’t do it myself. My arms hurt, I’m freezing, I’m tired… do you think I went fleeing out my window and over the roof for the fun of it?”

  “It’s the middle of the damn night, woman. Who the hell is up and about at this hour?”

  “You were,” she replied stiffly. “And those gentlemen who stole into my room were. And who is to say there aren’t more of them waiting below in the lobby?”

  That was a damn good point, but he still wasn’t going to put his hands anywhere near that luscious backside of hers. “All right, move over,” he conceded with ill grace and vaulted through the window.