Past Promises

by Jill Marie Landis

  “That’s right. But don’t forget you’re in Colorado, not Boston.”

  “Exactly what is it you want from me, Mr. Burnett?”

  He stared down at her, still moved by the haunting words of love she had read aloud. Kiss me straight on the brows and part! Again! again, my heart, my heart!

  “I was real sure about what I wanted to tell you when I got here, but for the last few minutes I’ve been thinking about something else entirely.” Casually, his voice low so that it would not carry on the breeze, he asked, “Have you ever been kissed, Miss Stanbridge?”

  The abrupt change of subject took her aback. Had she heard wrong? “What? Why, I never—”

  Rory smiled. “That’s just what I thought.”

  She stepped away.

  He reached out for her before she escaped.

  “Get ready, because it’s about to happen.”

  Jessica knew what was coming but was powerless to stop it. Shock mingled with an odd curiosity kept her from struggling. When his hands closed over her upper arms and he pulled her roughly against him, all she could think of was the warmth that emanated from him and the surprising fact that up close, his eyes were unbroken by any flecks of color, just as dark and fathomless as they appeared from far away. As he lowered his lips to hers, she was mesmerized by her own reflection in his eyes. Almost immediately she was caught up in the sudden realization that his lashes were so thick it was a pity they had been wasted on a man.

  Their lips had barely touched when Rory pulled back and secured his hold with an arm across her shoulders. He slipped off her spectacles with his free hand and set out to kiss her again.

  It was like nothing she’d ever imagined.

  It was more than he’d ever dreamed.

  Her lips were soft and pliant, so very willing beneath his own that Rory wondered if he might be imagining the whole exchange. The stalwart, no-nonsense Miss Jessica Stanbridge was suddenly clinging to him. Her fingers were clutching the soft flannel of his shirt so tightly that he felt the center button strain from the force of her hold. Obviously innocent of a man’s kiss, she kept her eyes open and her lips closed tight. Unwilling to frighten her, unable to hold back, Rory strengthened his hold and pressed for more. He traced her lips with the tip of his tongue. When she opened her lips to protest, he slipped his tongue between them and deepened the kiss.

  Somewhere in the back of her mind Jessica was still able to think rationally, even though her senses were on the verge of riot. Her heart pounded. Her knees went weak. A deep ache that had begun low in her middle, in a very unthinkable place, was now radiating out and upward so quickly that she was afraid she would become engulfed.

  There was no way she could let go of his shirt.

  She was inexorably drawn to this man and the sensations his kiss evoked, so much so that she likened it to the moment she lay on the sandstone rock and felt the pulse beat of the desert around her. The scientist in her clinically recorded his every move and noted every disturbing response as his lips and tongue teased hers and his arms tightened and drew her closer against the hard lines and angles of his body. In an instantaneous flash of awareness she knew that no man she had ever encountered could have produced such a blatantly sensual response in her. A hundred questions assailed her. Why now? Why here? Why with a man as different in temperament and situation as Rory Burnett? What was he doing with his tongue?

  Rory had not expected to kiss Jessica Stanbridge until the very moment he took her in his arms, and although he was just as surprised by his overwhelming reaction to her, he was that shocked at her response. And he was still fully aware of the consequences—the worst being she’d pack up and leave the minute he released her. As he lengthened the sweetest, hottest, most nerve-shattering kiss he had ever had, he became determined not to let her go.

  With that end in mind, he regretfully let reason take over. Slowly he ended the kiss and raised his head, determined to salvage the situation. Jessica stumbled back two steps and he immediately reached out to help her regain her balance. She grabbed his hand and held on until she was standing on even ground. Then she instantly let go, as if touching him disgusted her.

  With a hand to her breast she gasped, “What did you do that for?” Her blue eyes were wide with shock, her cheeks aglow, her lips reddened from his assault.

  He pulled the brim of his hat down and feigned a coolness he didn’t feel. “Beats me. Maybe I was just trying to shut you up. It wasn’t so bad, though, was it?”

  Unwilling to let him know exactly how much his kiss had moved her, Jessica looked down and straightened her blouse where it had come partially untucked from the waistband of her skirt.

  “That was a supreme waste of time given the fact that this relationship is going nowhere.” Shaking, she reached out for her spectacles and he relinquished them.

  He studied her carefully. “I say you never know, Jess. You never know.”

  When he turned away and headed back toward the center of camp, she was forced to run after him. Jessica grabbed him above the elbow. He bestowed a smug smile at her touch and she quickly let go.

  “If you think that kiss has rattled me so badly that I’ll forget all about exploring the mesa, think again,” she warned.

  He smiled. “Then you admit it did rattle you?”

  She shook her head. “Not one whit.”

  Rory laughed aloud.

  Jessica fumed. Glancing around the corner of the tent in the direction of the awning, she saw that Myra was setting out the dishes for the evening meal as Whitey stoked the fire under a spitted rabbit. The smell of roasting meat was beginning to flavor the air.

  “Apologize immediately,” she said through clenched teeth.

  “No way I’ll apologize for something that was obviously so enjoyable for both of us.”

  “Then get out of my camp.”

  “You’re on my land.”

  “A situation easily remedied at daybreak,” she threatened.

  He sobered immediately. “Jess, I have to have your promise you won’t leave until I get back.”

  She ignored the way the shortened version of her given name sounded like a caress when he said it. “Why should I promise you anything after the way you’ve just humiliated me?” She clenched her fingers together at her waist and stared at the ground.

  The sight of her bowed head bothered him more than he liked to admit. “No one saw us. Besides, what’s so humiliating about a kiss? Look, if you stay put until I get back, I promise to take you up to the mesa myself.”

  Jessica slowly raised her head and pinned him with what she hoped was her most quelling gaze. The sight of his dark-eyed perusal moved her more than she would ever let herself admit. “Why should I wait?”

  “Because it’s not safe for you to go up there alone, not after what Piah told me today,” he said honestly.

  She fiddled with her blouse again, smoothing it against the waistband of her skirt. Before she answered, she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Putting aside her pride, she told him honestly, “I’m not a stupid woman, Mr. Burnett. You’ve certainly given me no reason to believe you, especially after your lascivious conduct just now, but given the distinct possibility that your warning might contain the slightest hint of truth, then I promise. I won’t explore the mesa until you return, but only if you swear you’ll take me there yourself. After that, you’re fired.”

  Relieved to know she would still be here when he returned, Rory smiled and held out his hand. “It’s a deal.”

  She looked down at his hand as if it were a rattler. “On second thought, why can’t Whitey take me?”

  When apprehension coupled with swift anger shot through him, Rory knew he had been bitten far worse than he thought. “That kid has a hard enough time watching out for himself, let alone you. I’ll leave him here to guard the camp
, but don’t try to charm him into any trips up to the mesa. You could both wind up dead.”

  As much as she would like to admit she didn’t need him, Jessica knew she would feel far safer with Burnett as her guide, as long as he kept his hands, and his lips, to himself. “I won’t,” she assured him.

  The smell of roasted rabbit made his stomach rumble. “I’d best be getting back to the ranch.”

  “Will you stay for dinner?” The words came out without warning. She wanted to kick herself. She needed time to be alone with her thoughts, to analyze the most disturbing exchange.

  Rory bit back a triumphant smile. “Sure. On one condition.”

  “Is there always a condition with you?” She crossed her arms and waited.

  “Stop hiding behind those silly glasses. You don’t need them.”

  Completely disarmed, she gracefully sidestepped him and headed toward the awning with its fluttering paisley scarf.

  WITH WHITEY’S HELP, Jessica had unearthed far more fossils in a week’s time than she previously thought possible. As she stood beneath a robin’s-egg-blue sky and squinted against the intense sunlight, surveying the dig, she couldn’t help but take pride in her accomplishment. Carefully excavated bits and pieces of bone, all numbered and tagged, lay off to the side. The larger segments were sealed in plaster to prevent breakage, and lay like pieces of an age-old puzzle, waiting to be reassembled.

  Every precaution had been taken while digging, lifting, sifting, and sorting the fossilized bones. Whitey quickly learned the importance of working slowly with the fragile pieces. They worked elbow to elbow all week long, and more often than not Jessica grudgingly admitted to herself that she was thankful to have him there for both company and assistance. Even Myra, caught up in their enthusiasm, had accompanied them to the site twice to help out.

  Jessica looked down at her hands. They were a mess, she decided as she pulled off her gloves to inspect the damage. Sand and grit had sifted through tiny rips and tears in her chamois gloves, cutting her fingertips and nails. Her palms were blistered and callused. Tossing her gloves in the wagon bed, she began to unwrap the sandwiches Myra had sent along with them. At the sight of slices of bread liberally spread with thick blackberry preserves, Jessica’s mouth began to water. She found the water bottle, uncorked it, took a long pull, and let the water cool her parched throat. Then she called out to Whitey.

  “Time to eat! If you don’t hurry I might eat it all.”

  He looked up from where he was digging a trench around a half-exposed section of bone and waved.

  Jessica tipped her helmet back, took a bite out of her sandwich, and leaned back on her elbows against the wagon bed. The jaunty veil on her pith helmet had shredded days ago after her hat fell into the excavation pit and caught on the head of a pick. She ripped off as much as she could, wound it around the crown of the helmet, and then tied it off. The ragged hatband was just another trophy accumulated through hard work. She’d given up wearing her all-but-useless spectacles as soon as she tired of wiping dust off them every few moments.

  As she took another bite and washed it down with water, Jessica hoped that wherever her father’s spirit had gone to dwell, he could see her now. Not too many months ago they had pored over the notes of famed paleontologist O. C. Marsh, one of the first to have ventured west in search of saurian fossils.

  She couldn’t help but liken her own adventure to those of Henry Osborn and William Scott, also inspired by Marsh’s writings, men who went west by rail and wagon to a land barely tamed and settled in the summer of ’77. Back in her quiet flat she and Uriah Stanbridge had thrilled to the accounts of the numerous notable discoveries they made at Bridger Basin, Wyoming. Now she was in the field, dirty, gritty, immersed in the past and loving every moment. In all her life she had never been as happy or as fulfilled. As she listened to the hum of insects and watched a jay take wing, she wondered how anyone could bear to work at a task they didn’t enjoy.

  Yes, she thought with pride as she glanced at the neat rows of plaster-encased bone with the manila tags fluttering in the breeze, she could hold her head up among the best of them. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder what Rory Burnett would think when he returned and saw the excavation pit. She couldn’t wait to show it to him and tell him about the pieces they had uncovered. As much as she hated to admit it, she had missed sparring with him. And as much as she tried to deny it to herself, she had spent the better part of the week analyzing the way his kiss had made her feel.

  After one last bite of sandwich, Jessica hailed Whitey again. “You must be starving!” She couldn’t believe how much her own appetite was stimulated by activity, the clear air, and sunshine.

  Resting against the open end of the wagon bed, she watched Whitey straighten and stretch, then brush the red dirt off his pants. As he sauntered toward her, wiping his grime-streaked face with a red bandanna, she couldn’t help but admit that he was a strikingly handsome young man. Over the past week he had been attempting to grow a mustache, but all he had to show for his trouble was some sparse, dark fuzz across his upper lip.

  He smiled when he reached the wagon and picked up a sandwich. With the bread halfway to his lips he paused and said softly, “We’ve got company.”

  Jessica looked over her shoulder and then turned to stare. Sure enough, six riders were approaching. She shielded her eyes and tried to keep the excitement out of her voice. Rory Burnett had been gone a week, and as loath as she was to admit it, she was actually anticipating his return. “Is it Burnett? Are they back already?”

  “No.” Whitey pulled his gun out of his holster and checked the chambers, then snapped it back in place. “They’re Utes.”

  She stared down at the gun in his hand, then into his eyes. “But surely they’re friendly.”

  “They’re off the reservation. It doesn’t hurt to be ready.”

  Jessica watched the slowly approaching riders and soon recognized the tall hat of the man who had watched her so intently when she and Myra first arrived at the reservation. Rory’s warning came back to her; still, she wanted no trouble with these men.

  “Put that gun away, Whitey. Until we know otherwise we’ll assume they’re just paying us a friendly visit.”

  The riders drew nearer. She recognized the one she called Tall Hat, four men, and a youth. Their ponies, with their rope halters and woven saddle blankets, were as shaggy and wild looking as the men in their colorful mixture of traditional and modem clothing.

  “Do you have your gun?” Whitey whispered.

  Jessica shook her head. “No. I left it behind.” The past uneventful days had led to complacency.

  He reached out and squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry, Miss Jessica. I’ll protect you with my life if I have to.”

  The loving gesture coupled with the sincerity of his pledge startled her. Somehow, sometime during their week together, Whitey Higgins had fallen in love. She frowned and wondered what, if anything, she had mistakenly done to encourage him. She promised herself that as soon as their current problem was resolved, she would let him know his feelings were not returned.

  “Don’t look scared,” he advised, drawing her out of her thoughts. His voice cracked on the words.

  “I’m not,” she told him truthfully. Given his sudden loss of color and the way his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, she was certain that should they be in any real danger, she would most likely have to rely upon herself.

  Seconds passed before the Ute riders stopped beside the wagon.

  Tall Hat, with a stern, foreboding expression, dismounted before the rest followed suit.

  Whitey nodded. “Piah.”

  Jessica recognized the name and held her breath. This was the man Burnett had mentioned. Piah was staring directly at her. She felt Whitey move up to her side.

  “You are the woman who searches for the bones?”
Piah asked.

  She shook her head. “Not human bones. Not the bones of your people.”

  He pointed at the unearthed pieces behind her. “What are those?”

  “Come. I’d be happy to show you,” she volunteered. Whitey grabbed her elbow but she shook him off, ignoring the warning glance he threw her. “They’re bones of saurians . . .” She fought for a clearer explanation. “Lizards. Giant lizards that once—”

  He nodded. “Thunder lizards. They are best left to sleep in the earth.”

  “They have no power. They have been dead for centuries. Millions and millions of years.” Did Indians compute in millions? Jessica struggled for a way to make him understand.

  Piah’s gaze never wavered. Black eyes that hid ancient secrets bored into hers. She tried to remember something about primitive cultures. Perhaps he was a shaman, a magician. She wished they could communicate better, for she suspected he was a man with much to teach, but his hostility toward her work was all too apparent.

  “A spirit never dies,” he warned.

  “Please.” She beckoned him as she walked toward the carefully prepared bones. “Come and see. There are no human remains here. No Indian bones.”

  He followed. The others remained near the wagon. Whitey stood uncomfortably between the men and Jessica. She knelt to show Piah the bones and lifted what was obviously the pelvic bone of a creature far larger than a man.

  “You see?”

  Piah stared, but did not reach out to touch the fossil. Then he knelt beside her and stared at the smaller fragments, never touching, only carefully sizing them up with his eyes. “How can you be sure that some of these were not once bones of the People?”

  When she had seen him on the reservation, the man had led her to believe he couldn’t speak English. Now it appeared he was quite fluent. This is not, she told herself as certainty swept over her, a man who can be trusted.

  “I’ve studied many years. It is my job to know where they came from.”

  “What will you do with them?”