Wildstar

by Nicole Jordan

  Devlin thought of Jessica, her strength, her stubborn­ness. He thought of her standing up to Burke in a crowded saloon. Of her pulling a revolver on him the first time he kissed her. Of her trembling in his arms in a darkened mine tunnel. Of her holding Purcell and a half dozen other outlaws at bay. He thought of her wrapping her long legs around him and meeting him thrust for passionate thrust, carrying him to a world of delight and ecstasy he'd found with no other woman but her. He thought of her filling up the emptiness in his life.

  No, he didn't know if she could make him happy. All he knew was that his life would be unbearable without her. This past week had more than proved that. He missed her every waking hour, and some when he was sleeping. He missed her fire, her determination . . . her passion, her prejudices. He missed kissing her, missed fighting with her. He missed the challenge of turning her into a sensual, sexually responsive woman.

  In short, he couldn't contemplate living his life without her.

  He intended to return to Colorado and marry her just as soon as he could settle his most pressing affairs here. Jess might balk at first, he was aware. He hadn't left under the most congenial of terms. But he dismissed the gut-deep fear that she might reject him entirely. He didn't intend to take no for an answer. If Jess wasn't in love with him yet, he would make her fall in love. It was as simple as that.

  "As sure as I can be of anything," Devlin answered his father.

  "Well then . . . you have my blessing, son." It was, Devlin thought as he raised his glass, a good enough beginning.

  Chapter 20

  "That gorgeous fella's back," Flo announced as she entered the boardinghouse kitchen with an armful of packages from the butcher shop.

  Jessica's heart did a double take. "Devlin? He's here! In Silver Plume?"

  "Doc Wheeler saw him down at the rail station."

  "Are you sure!"

  "I reckon Doc knows enough about anatomy to recog­nize a gent when he sees one."

  "What . . . is he doing back?"

  Flo's grin was as broad as a barn door. "Well, I'll give you three guesses and the first two don't count."

  Jess's hand stole to her breastbone. Flo was determined to believe Devlin was sweet on her, but she hadn't dared allow herself to hope. It would be devastating to have those hopes shattered. Letting herself dream of romance and love and a future with him—with children and a home—was just setting herself up for a terrible fall. Dev­lin didn't want those things, any more than he wanted her.

  For the past two weeks she'd tried to put him out of her mind—which was a bit like trying to pretend she wasn't alive. It was humanly impossible for her lips not to re­member Devlin's stunning kisses, for her body to forget his heated, exquisite lovemaking. She couldn't deny, ei­ther, that his charm and tenderness, his vital maleness, af­fected her profoundly, any more than she could claim not to miss his shrewd intelligence and keen understanding. In fact, ever since Devlin had left town, she'd been in pure misery.

  She was in love with him, pure and simple. She had to admit it. Even if she hadn't allowed herself to acknowl­edge the depth of her feelings before now, she couldn't possibly blame the hungry, yearning ache in her heart on anything but love.

  Unlike Flo, though, Jess couldn't believe Devlin would return to Colorado just for her. But what else could have brought him back?

  "Maybe he just wants to see Riley about his share of the Wildstar," Jess offered lamely, wishing Flo would contra­dict her.

  The widow gave her a disgusted look that was rather heartening. "Lord have mercy, gal, don't you know any­thing about men?"

  Not Devlin's kind of man, she didn't. That had always been the trouble.

  That afternoon—the first day of October—was one of the longest Jess had ever endured. Her spirits alternately rose and sank, hope bubbling in her veins like champagne one minute, uncertainty and fear dashing those bubbles the next.

  Around two o'clock, she went home to change clothes. If Devlin had returned to Colorado for her, as Flo be­lieved, then it was likely he would come to call and Jess wanted to look her absolute best. She donned her Sunday gown—the coffee-striped grenadine with the pearl broach, then sat in the parlor and waited. The seconds ticked away like hours—pure torture on her nerves. Half the time she spent anxiously wondering if Flo could be right, and if so, whether she dared allow herself to hope for a marriage proposal. The other half of the time she spent scolding herself and preparing for the worst. He didn't love her. He didn't want a wife at all, certainly not one with her lack of qualifications. He had only come back to wrap up the loose ends of his business dealings . . . the Wildstar and whatever other projects he'd undertaken to make money— his self-professed occupation.

  Whatever his intentions, though, Devlin didn't show up. By four o'clock, Jess was a mass of raw anxiety. Five minutes later, she came to a decision. Not only couldn't she stand another minute of suspense, but she couldn't af­ford to wait any longer. She had supper to fix for her min­ers. And in a few more hours it would be Saturday night. If the past was anything to judge by, Devlin would likely spend it gambling. Therefore, if she meant to have it out with him, she would have to do it now. She wasn't about to walk into another saloon in order to find him.

  With trembling hands, Jess put on her hat and gloves, swept up the parasol that matched her outfit, and walked out the door before she could change her mind.

  Although she didn't know where Devlin was staying, she thought it likely he would book a room at the Dia­mond Dust Hotel, so that was where she headed. Main Street wasn't as chaotic as usual, since the rowdiest eve­ning of the week hadn't yet begun, but the road was still packed with drays and ore wagons.

  Jess was a block from the Diamond Dust when she saw him; despite the distance, she was able to pick Devlin out of the crowd. She couldn't mistake the elegant cut of his jacket, the lean-muscled shoulders, the dark silky hair be­neath a sleek bowler. Her breath caught in her throat. She thought she had prepared herself to meet him, but she couldn't seem to stop the way her heart clenched with joy at the mere sight of him, or prevent the army of butterflies from turning somersaults in her stomach. She had to force herself to slow down and take a deep breath just to keep from running to his side.

  Devlin was driving a single-horse open buggy which was halted before the hotel. Seated on the front seat, he was engaged in conversation with a woman who stood on the boardwalk.

  Jess was too busy drinking in the sight of Devlin to pay attention to anyone else at first. But when she was about five yards away, she recognized the ebony-haired woman beside him. Her steps faltered, her heart squeezing in sud­den, sharp pain. Lena. The faro dealer at the saloon. The same woman who had been in Devlin's bedroom several weeks ago. The owner of the feather boa.

  Just then. Devlin bent and cupped his hand around Lena's nape, drawing her face up tenderly to brush his lips over hers.

  Jess stood frozen, watching in disbelief, in horror.

  Devlin drew back with a beautiful smile. "Wish me luck," he said, grinning.

  Lena laughed throatily. "I don't think you'll need it, darlin'. You could make a stone melt."

  Devlin might have heard the strangled little sound Jess made, for he looked up just then, his gray eyes connecting with her agonized gaze.

  Jess took a single step backward in shock, not wanting to face what she had just seen. As Devlin's smile faded, she tamed blindly and ran, not caring that she dropped her parasol, not caring that she stumbled over her skirts and nearly fell, merely pushing desperately past a knot of star­tled men who had just come out of the drugstore.

  Behind her Devlin cursed. "Jess!" he shouted. "Jessica, wait!"

  "Oh, Lord," Lena breathed.

  "Dammit to hell." Devlin muttered in reply. His fingers clenched around the reins, but otherwise he didn't move. The savage pain of seeing Jess ran from him held him im­mobile. Once again she'd believed the worst of him, con­victing him without giving him a chance to defend himself.

 
; "Aren't you gonna go after her?" Lena asked.

  "No."

  "No?" The faro dealer looked at him in puzzlement.

  "I'm not running after her. She's jumped to the wrong conclusion about me once too often."

  "You want me to tell her it was just a good-bye kiss? That you were on your way to see her and to ask her to marry you?"

  "No." Devlin's jaw clenched grimly as he tried to re­press the cold fear welling up inside him. Jess couldn't love him very much if she had so little faith in him. Per­haps he'd overestimated his appeal with her. Perhaps he'd been arrogant to think he could make her love him. He couldn't force her love, her trust. But he at least deserved the benefit of the doubt from the woman who was to be his wife. "If she can't learn to trust me on her own, then it won't do any good to push it." He swore again. "Hell, I'm more innocent now than I was about any of her other accusations."

  "A lady like her might not see it that way. She's not gonna forgive you for kissing me, even if it was innocent."

  He thought of the diamond engagement ring burning a hole in his pocket and shook his head. He was damned if he would run after Jess and beg her forgiveness. She was going to have to come to him this time.

  Devlin tore his gaze away from Jess's retreating figure and focused it on the sultry Lena. He smiled again, not pleasantly. "Looks like I won't be getting married any time soon. What about that faro game you suggested?"

  Lena eyed him skeptically. "If you're sure, sugar. But I think maybe you're gonna need some of that luck after all."

  Jess wept when she got home. She flung herself on her bed and indulged in a storm of tears that released weeks of pent-up grief and uncertainty.

  She stayed there all evening, too heartsick to contem­plate facing anyone. She hoped Flo would handle getting dinner on the table, because she couldn't move. All she could do was lie there, curled in a ball, and sob.

  When Riley came home from the mine, she pleaded illness—which alarmed him considerably until she finally confessed that no, she wasn't sick, it was only that Devlin had come back and she had seen him, but she didn't want to talk about it and would Riley please leave her alone? With an odd mingling of concern and relief on his face, Riley tiptoed from the room and shut the door behind him, leaving Jess to her misery.

  She couldn't sleep at all that night. Instead she pounded her pillow and hugged her pain to herself and cursed her stupidity for ever falling in love with that handsome snake. She should have known better than to trust any man who had his kind of wealth and power.

  The next morning fury and pride took over. Exhausted but dry-eyed, Jess marched over to the boardinghouse and did battle with chores and dustballs. The first time Flo mentioned Devlin, though, Jess blew up, declaring she didn't want to have anything to do with that two-timing sidewinder, that she didn't even want to hear his name!

  It was two days before she was calm enough to tell Flo what had actually happened. They were out back of the boardinghouse, cleaning carpets by beating them with brooms.

  "I saw him kiss that woman right there on the street!" she gritted out through her teeth as she took her bitter jeal­ousy out on the hapless carpet.

  "Maybe there's a simple explanation. Why don't you ask him about it?"

  Jess gave another fierce swing, wishing it were Devlin she was hitting. 'There's an explanation, all right! He's a lecher. With absolutely no discrimination! He has to try and charm anything in skirts."

  "Lord have mercy, gal, you can't expect a man like that to live like a monk."

  "I can, too!"

  Flo was a bit more practical. "A gorgeous fella like him must have dozens of women runnin' after him. He'd have to be a saint to refuse every one of them."

  "That woman wasn't running after him. He was kissing her, confound it!"

  "Well, it's not like he was married. Once he gets hitched he'll settle down."

  "How can you possibly believe that?"

  '"Cause a man like that only marries for two reasons, money or love. And Devlin sure as shootin' doesn't need the money. If he was to marry you, it'd only be because you got his heart all tied up in knots."

  That mollified Jess to only the slightest degree. "He doesn't have a heart," she muttered. "And I don't want to marry him. I don't want anything to do with a man I can't trust out of my sight, one who can't be faithful even be­fore the wedding."

  "Listen to yourself, Jess. You're not makin' a lick o' sense. Before the wedding is when a man is supposed to sow his oats."

  Jess made a sound that was halfway between a sob and a shriek, and took her fury out on the carpets.

  Flo shook her head. "Listen to me, gal. You love him, you better go after him and not leave him to some soiled dove who can only give him the pleasures of the flesh."

  "I don't love him! I despise him! Oh, just don't talk to me about him!"

  Jess meant it. She only wanted to forget Devlin so she could mend her shattered heart and get on with her life.

  Trouble was, nobody would let her forget him. It was impossible not to dwell on her heartbreak when everyone around her seemed determined to remind her of it.

  Flo was bad enough. In spite of Jess's expressed wishes, the widow found a way to bring the subject of Devlin into the conversation upwards of ten times a day. But Riley was worse. He rarely mentioned Devlin's name, but his el­oquent silences made it very clear he was disappointed in her. Jess began to feel like she was at fault for spurning Devlin.

  She knew Riley met with him. That became rather ob­vious when Riley kept leaving various equipment receipts signed with Devlin's bold signature on the kitchen table in plain sight for her to find. Jess knew enough about mining to figure out they were expanding the Wildstar operation big-time, and that Devlin's money was financing it. Even with the mine's vast increase in silver production during the month since the strike, Riley couldn't yet afford on his own to invest in an expensive steam-powered hoist and headframe and all the other tons of hard-rock equipment it would take to bring the Wildstar up to a first-class opera­tion and enable it to compete with the huge consolidated mines.

  Jess refused to ask her father about the expansion, though—which only made her feel left out. Until now Riley had always discussed every aspect of his business affairs with her, but this time he was proceeding without her, in league with Devlin. It hurt, knowing that her father was siding with that polecat.

  She couldn't understand, either, why Devlin even con­tinued to remain in Colorado. Surely he didn't need to oversee every little detail of the Wildstar enterprise. Riley was more than capable of managing on his own. And Dev­lin had fulfilled his original purpose for coming to Silver Plume. Three of the train robbers were behind prison bars, while the other three had been sentenced to hang. The as­pen leaves turned gaudy gold and began to fall, but even after Devlin testified at the trial, he still didn't return to Chicago.

  Jess had been called as a witness at the trial, as well. She'd performed her duty with as much expedience as possible, getting in and out in one afternoon. And yet see­ing Devlin again, merely being in the same courtroom with him, was sheer torture. He looked so handsome he took her breath away. In fact, he commanded the attention of everyone in the room, dressed as he was in a superbly tailored wool suit that spelled money, leisure, power.

  He didn't make the slightest move to speak to her, or even approach her, though. Certainly he made no attempt to apologize for kissing that woman—which was the only way she could have forgiven him.

  Her heart aching, Jess tried to ignore him, and yet she was aware of every move Devlin made, every person he spoke to, every occasion when he turned his head in her direction. He watched her sometimes, she knew that. It had been all she could do to sit there in the witness box with Devlin's shrewd gray gaze boring into her.

  Her heartache was even harder to bear because she thought that the courtroom might be the last place she ever saw him. Jess braced herself for Devlin's departure after­ward. The weather grew cold, bringing chilling fr
osts and freezing nights. But to her surprise and puzzlement—and relief, if she could bring herself to admit it—when Devlin left town he merely moved to Georgetown, two miles away.

  He was staying at the Hotel de Paris, she learned from Flo. A week later she also learned that Devlin had bought a plot of land in Georgetown and was planning on building a fancy house.

  "A house?" Jess repeated in shock. "Whatever would he need a house for?"

  Flo raised her eyes to the ceiling, as if praying for pa­tience. "For a smart gal, you sure can be thickheaded sometimes, Jess."

  "What do you mean?"

  "You figure it out. I've already said my piece, and I'm not gonna say one thing more."

  Flo didn't keep to her promise to say nothing more in the following weeks, but neither did she explain what she meant. It was left to Jess to puzzle out.

  Devlin's actions, however, continued to surprise Jessica. Clem broke the latest news to her one evening after dinner when he was still smarting from the loss of a poker game to Riley. The revelation that Devlin had provided Clem the capital to start his own stock ranch made Jess stare.

  "Yep, I'm gonna settle down and raise me some mules, Jessie," Clem explained.

  "You're going to quit mining?" Jess asked incredu­lously. She couldn't believe the rugged old-timer whom she'd known since she was a baby would contemplate such a drastic change. Clem was part of the Rockies.

  "Not quit, perxactly. Just do something on a different end. I'm gettin' too old to be trampin' up and down that mountain, Jessie. And there's big profit to be made in mules. That big-city fella's got it all worked out. Him and me, were gonna be partners."

  "You're actually going into business with Devlin? I thought you didn't trust him."

  "Aw, he ain't such a bad fella, after all. A bit too purty for my taste, but he knows a good deal when he sees one." Shooting a stream of tobacco juice with bull's-eye precision at the spittoon near his feet, Clem patted his stomach and grinned. "Yep, I'm gonna retire and not work so hard."