by Thea Devine
He put one knee on the bed and paused. She immediately moved backward toward the door, reaching out her hand to feel for the doorknob.
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"Ellie will chase you right back up, you know," he said conversationally. He had to get her now, otherwise she would be out the door. "Ellie likes to see her guests get their money's worth," he added, goading her, and he could see she didn't know whether to attack him or run. The split second of indecision cost her. He bolted onto the bed and grabbed for her hand—and just grasped it as she made her decision to dash out the door. He pulled her forward, off balance, and onto the bed again, covering her this time with the full length of his rock hard body.
"Now, Kalida . . ." he murmured against her burning face. "And now . . ." His mouth captured hers, and she almost swooned it the sensation of his tongue touching hers again.
She had to harden herself against him immediately, before he stormed her senses and took what she would have willingly given him. She couldn't let him see the yearning in her, and how much she had missed him, how much he had cost her. She didn't even know, despite the churning emotion inside her, whether she would have actually found the strength to run from him. Part of her wanted him still, part of her was still in thrall to lush sensations she knew his body could evoke from her.
To feel him again! Everything in her wanted it, wanted him. Except that staunch part of her with the unending memory of him accusing her of vile things, of sending her away with money in her hand and no hope. Of loving her and abandoning her.
To let him conquer now, in this setting, with Ellie gloating downstairs, was a mockery of everything she had feli for him. He wanted a whore, she thought, her anger bulJing now, as he slowly and expertly explored her mouth in that sensually familiar way, he would get a *hore. A woman paid to lie on her back and let a man have his way with her. Just like Charlotte said. And then she would collect the goodies. And that would be the end
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of that.
And still, it was hard not to respond as his hand began its enticing trail along the soft lines of her body. Hard to withhold her pleasure when his fingers began caressing her breasts and sliding downward to rediscover the treasure there'. Hard to quell the little murmurs and excited moans that would encourage him and let him know she loved what he was doing.
But she did it; she lay still as a rock and let him play with her, kiss her, feel every inch of her body, strip away the ridiculous nightgown, turn her this way and that to better touch her buttocks, her thighs. It was lovely just to lay back and participate minimally. Lovely to feel his frustration building at her neutrality, delightful to know her plan was working even as her body screamed for the release she was not going to allow it to have.
God it was formidable, the task of restraining herself from responding to him. She felt herself shaking with the force of it, almost crying at her own nonfulfillment.
She didn't care. She was determined that he would see his dollars had not bought very much. She held that thought in her mind as he finally parted her thighs and slipped his hard length into her pulsating body. And she had to hold the edges of the bed to keep herself from meeting his frenzied thrusts, to hold everything back, to think of anything else she could in order not to think about the luscious sensations that he evoked with each stroke.
She opened her eyes once, and the naked emotion in his face made her cringe with guilt and triumph. She couldn't bear it, she thought. And at that, she was more generous than he: She would never have denied him anything, no matter what he had pushed her to. And now he had pushed her to the point where she had to make the choice. And she made it. She made it. And she would make it again.
And his body thrust against hers unwillingly, and with one swooping lunge, he collapsed against her. "Bitch, bitch, bitch," he hissed in a terrible whisper against her ear. "You stupid bitch, you . . ." He levered himself up with one sudden movement, disgusted and ready to strangle her. "You goddamned whore . . ." He groped for his clothing blindly.
"What did you expect?" she asked softly, snidely, propping herself on her elbows to watch him, knowing that her pose might tempt him, wanting to tempt him so she could not give him what he wanted all over again.
He looked up at her as he bent over to reach for his shirt, and his charcoal-darkened eyes flamed with an ugly light. She looked pagan and desirable all over again, and her firm mouth was curved into a snide little smile that he wanted violently to crush away. She was totally untouched, unmoved by what had just happened. She hated him that much. She was right. What did he expect?
"My money's worth," he answered abruptly, sliding his muscular arms into his shirtsleeves. He leaned over her reclining body, the edges of his shirt brushing against her breasts. "But I expect the management will remedy that," he added, crushing her lips under his savagely. She responded almost involuntarily, and he pulled away after a long moment. "Not too jaded—yet," he commented sardonically, calmly buttoning his shirt and tucking it in his pants. "But I think I will leave it to others to teach you your place, Kalida-cat. A variety of experience will enlighten you properly. And, of course, you've had a bounty-full already, haven't you?"
He walked away from the bed, turning his back on her en1i<*:ng body, remembering she had chosen to come here, remembering the eagerness of Mr. Humas, remembering Jake Danton's gun; remembering her wanton body, eager for his tutelage. Or had she already been primed by someone else? Now he would never be sure, and he was
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ready to walk away from it. Now, without looking back. The only thing that imprisoned her was her own wanton greediness. He didn't need her. He wouldn't need her.
She watched him walk resolutely out the door and close it firmly behind him, and she fell back on the bed, dazed.
I could have had another night with him, her numbed body screamed. Another night of sensation and culmination to store against the barreness of the nights to come. You whore, you let him walk away and you gave him nothing, just like you were the whore that Ellie is going to make you into. Why did you do that? Why?
But she knew the answer: because he had no trust, because with the overwhelming loving, he had no trust, and he still didn't believe her, about anything. And she couldn't allow herself to believe in him.
Chapter Eighteen
"What did you do with that beautiful man last night to make him request you again tonight?" Charlotte demanded as she opened the door with Kalida's breakfast tray. "My gracious, he gave Ellie money for you even though he was in an awful rage. What happened?"
"Exactly what you described," Kalida said, stunned. Deuce had given Ellie more money? Deuce reserved her for tonight? He wanted a replay of their sensual war? He was crazy; she would refuse to see him. She would jump out the window.
"You must have something," Charlotte muttered. "That man was out of his mind with anger, and I don't know if he was madder at Ellie or you."
lida shifted her covers so that she could reach for a biscuit and a cup of coffee. She felt old this morning, ragged, without hope. It was obvious she had to escape Ellie and forget about ever seeing her father again. All she had done was allow herself to be entwined in more
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traps, more situations over which she had no control. She took a deep breath and a deep sip of the hot black liquid as Charlotte made herself comfortable at the foot of the bed. "He said," she went on suddenly, "that he'd better not find any more Mr. Humases in your room. He said if you told him Ellie foisted anyone else on you, he'd kill her. That's what he said," she added at Kalida's disbelieving look. "Where do you know that man from?"
"I've known him a long time," Kalida answered non-committally. Too long, too fast, too far with him. Even now, he thought he owned her. Damn him. She eyed the window consideringly. Ellie had said it was bolted from the outside. There was some kind of screening over it, fastened from the outside. If she broke the window, she would have to cut the screenin
g somehow.
"Ooh," Charlotte murmured, looking around as Kalida's mind seemed to have gone elsewhere. "You had some to-do in here with him. I'd better send Bonita up to get rid of all this glass. What went on?" Her eyes were wide with avid curiosity.
"I didn't want to entertain him," Kalida said ironically, taking in the extent of the broken objects that littered the floor. One of those shards would cut a screen.
"You can't refuse to do that," Charlotte said seriously. "He paid a lot of money."
"And he'll pay a lot more," Kalida muttered under her breath. "I have to get dressed, Charlotte. Is there any chance Ellie would let me out if I promise not to try to run off?"
"Probably not; her mind" is real set about you. She's in a rare simmer about that man last night, and she's brooding over your daddy's not returning to look for you. She's one angry lady," Charlotte answered honestly. "But she sure liked the size and color of those bills that man gave her; she said it almost made up for the rest." She got up, and took Kalida's tray, and left her, being
careful to lock the door behind her.
And that takes care of the amount of sympathy she has for me, Kalida thought ruefully. And I've had enough sitting and feeling sorry for myself and damning Deuce Cavender. It's time to do something.
By the time Bonita came upstairs to sweep away the mess, she had dressed in her canvas skirt and shirtwaist, had secreted one long shard of glass from the framed lithograph that was crumpled pn the floor, and was standing by the mirror brushing out her crackling inky hair, her expression neutral, her eyes hooded so as not to reveal their electric blue gaze that would have immediately alerted Bonita something was up.
Ellie hated her, she thought, watching Bonita in the mirror as she took one last look around before removing herself, without a word, and locking the door carefully behind her. Ellie hated her because she, Kalida, had taken Hal Ryland from her and had caused her to be rejected by Deuce. Ellie hated her father now, for abandoning her and not keeping whatever promises he had made to her. Ellie would want to humiliate her, Kalida, in any vicious way that occurred to her.
Kalida wondered what made Ellie think that she would just sit in that room and take it? She had even played with the idea of trying to overpower Bonita or Charlotte the next time either of them appeared, but she thought that might prove to be useless. There were still men in the house, men beholden to Ellie, who wouldn't hesitate to attack her at Ellie's word. And apart from that, she had no idea of the configuration of the house, so escape other than through the front door seemed impossible right now. Although, she considered, she might question Charlotte about it. And appear meek and cooperative to lull Ellie's suspicions.
Oh, but Ellie must know her better than that, after the time she had spent with her. Still, the situation was one
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that would cow many women; why not Kalida Ryland?
The explosive sound of a shotgun rocked her out of her reverie. It was in the.house! Outside? She ran to the window, but there was no undue commotion out there. Another shot! She turned, her back against the cold glass. Silence followed. A long silence, with no explanations forthcoming. No one came. Nothing happened. Kalida sat alone with her thoughts after a while, wondering who had been shot and why, considering the window and the position of her upstairs room, and whether she could risk breaking it and jumping out.
She pushed the question of the shots out of her mind. They weren't germane to her situation. Finding some way to escape became the paramount question in her mind.
She watched the sun set out the window. Deuce would be here soon if he meant what he said to Ellie. Ellie did not try to force anyone else on her. Ellie provided her meals and left her alone. What more could she want?
She wanted the window more accessible. It had begun to look to her, after a whole day's staring at it, like a prison bar. She couldn't mitigate the noise when she broke it, she couldn't be sure she wouldn't be cut to pieces as she climbed out of it, and she had to contend with a drop of at least ten feet after she slashed the screen.
Damn.
Darkness fell. Bonita brought her dinner. Deuce did not come.
She turned up the gaslight and considered again whether to attack Charlotte and try for the front door. It seemed a lot easier than jumping out a window. After all, what could Ellie's cohorts do to her but put her back in the damned room if she were caught?
Her ears caught the faint rattle of the key in the door. Very faint, almost stealthy. She darted behind the door, so
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it would hide her when it opened, and listened. Whoever was turning that key did not want anyone to know he was gaining entrance to Kalida's room.
The tumblers clicked and the door swung open slowly, slowly . . . Not Deuce, Kalida thought wildly; he wouldn't be sneaking in. Mr. Humas, thwarted by his rejection, coming to seek his brand of restitution? She pressed herself against the wall as a heavy figure slid into the room and his soft voice whispered, "Kalida?"
Oh my God! "Papa!" She pushed the door closed quickly. "Papa!"
They stared at each other, he holding his arm awk-■ wardly, she her heart pounding with the unexpected absurdity of it.
"Ellie shot me," he explained in a low, embarrassed voice.
"Ellie shot you?" she repeated, incredulous. The gunshots! "What are you doing here?"
"I came for you, of course," he said as she drew him to the bed and examined his arm. He had tended to it as best he could and brushed away her concern with a sweeping gesture of his good arm. "Ellie thought I took too long."
"Yes, you did," she said tartly. "I thought you were hundreds of miles from here; I never expected to see you again."
His pale blue eyes looked hurt. "Well, I would have been if things had gone right for you and Deuce."
"They didn't," Kalida told him sharply.
"So I hear," he said, but his pointed gaze rested on her as if it were her fault. She couldn't believe him! "Tell me wha: happened, maybe we can salvage it."
"Are you crazy?" she cried. The man was crazy; he fully expected that now she was going to participate in some wild scheme in the hopes of ressurrecting her father's chances of pulling off his fantastical scheme!
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"What happened," she said grittily, pacing to the other side of the room, "is that Deuce believes I'm in league with you, and the whole trade you made was a setup for you to pull off this wild plan. What the hell are you doing here?"
"Look, I've been hanging out all day, after Ellie chased me off with her rifle; you forget I know this house very well. There are lots of places to hide, and a back entrance to which, even though Ellie has it guarded right well, I was able to gain entrance—because I needed to see you. You've got to go back to Deuce."
"WHAT?" She couldn't believe her ears. Her father hadn't come to rescue her, he had come to persuade her to do him a favor. Not that she wanted to be saved by him any longer. The man was out solely for himself. He didn't care a whit about her. He had his eye on the easy gain, the big chance. Her father. The scoundrel, just as Deuce had said.
She walked away from him. She couldn't believe that all his plans had come down to her somehow saving him once again.
"You'd better tell me everything," she said finally. There was no point in not knowing now. Deuce had probably been smart to back his investment in her father's cattle by giving him a mortgage on the Ryland ranchland. After all, hadn't he made a point of telling her he had always known what her father was like?
She didn't know the man at all.
He began hesitantly. "Basically, I found I didn't like ranching."
"That's good. After all these years . j . Papa . . ." She was running out of patience with him now.
"I didn't like it, and I thought the best way to keep on going without relinquishing my partners, was to get that share of Deuce's syndicate. Because then you see he'd do most of the work, and we'd all rake in the money."
There was a sinking
feeling in her stomach. She sank onto the other end of the bed and watched his face as he detailed the rest.
"He's always been in love with you, Kalida, believe me. Probably since the day you shot him and ran off with Malca under his nose. He really loved that. He's always wanted you. So I thought I could use that. He never broached it that way, and as I told you, the conversation we had about it was not so direct as my saying I'd convince you to have, him if he'd give me a share of the syndicate. But that's what it came down to. And I believe what I told you: It was a better opportunity for you than it was for me, especially because I always thought you had deep hidden feelings for him too."
"Well, they're still deep and they're still buried," Kalida said sarcastically. "He thought it was a bit too handy that the house happened to burn down in the midst of this. He thought you did it."
"And you thought he did it," her father countered, reminding her of her own words.
"I guess I did. I don't know who to believe now," she said slowly.
"It doesn't matter," her father said. "The minute it happened, and then Deuce whisked us to Sweetland and offered to buy the herd and you, I saw my opportunity to escape the whole shebang lock, stock, and barrel. I'd take his offer on the cattle, I'd mortgage the land to him, and I'd live off the proceeds. I never even thought about stealing the cattle back until you mentioned he was bringing them down sooner than I'd anticipated."
"Oh my God," she whispered. But how could she have known?
"See, with all the rustling going on, I just thought he rrght assume the thieves were at work again. I never thought he would blame you and think you were a blind."
"Well he did," she interpolated in a heavy voice, "and
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he sent me packing. He's got pride, Deuce does, and I tramped on it just a bit before you pulled your vanishing act, and that was the end of that." "But how did you wind up here?" "Ellie thought this was the first place you'd come looking for me. We needed each other, she said. I had nowhere to go, and she wanted to get hold of you. Which she did, right and proper, didn't she?"
