Cloudcastle

by Nan Ryan

  When night fell, Tahomah took his leave, disappearing into the thick clouds and pelting sleet. And Natalie was again alone, and troubled. Tahomah's visit had not worked its usual magic. She had told him of the daylong El Dorado celebration and all that had happened and he had listened attentively, nodding and smiling. But when she mentioned that Ashlin would soon arrive for dinner and that she would like Tahomah to stay and share the evening meal, his broad, ugly face became expressionless and he said simply, "No."

  Tahomah did not like Ashlin, had never liked him, and made little effort to hide it. From the first time the two men had met, Natalie had sensed a deep coolness between them, though both denied such was the case. Tahomah had asked today, as he had a half-dozen times before, if Ashlin had a brother. It baffled her why the shaman would pose such a strange question. The first time it happened, she had asked Ashlin. His answer was to pull her into his arms, kiss her, and laugh, saying calmly, "My dear, I'm an only child. One of a kind."

  Natalie stood pensively at the window long after Tahomah had disappeared into the thick darkness. The shaman's barely concealed disapproval of Ashlin troubled her. Tahomah was generally such a good judge of character. What did he see in Ashlin that made him withhold his friendship? Why did his black eyes cloud each time he gazed on the handsome blond nobleman?

  Out of the blue the idea struck her: Tahomah would like Kane Covington. Natalie felt a chill skip up her spine. Perhaps Tahomah wasn't such a good judge of character after all. Surely the dark devil was Satan's own spawn, hatched in hell!

  Less than a mile from where Natalie stood peering into the darkness, the man from Hades rode his bay stallion through the punishing sleet. Hat brim pulled low, coat collar turned up over his cold ears, Kane spoke to the surefooted stallion and the beast lunged forward.

  Riding back into Cloudcastle after a long, miserable day of cutting timber, Kane squeezed the big bay with his thighs and knees and felt the horse's powerful heart thundering between his legs, the sleek wet muscles pounding and driving.

  And he wondered why, when riding this beautiful red-hued animal through blinding sleet in the cold, rugged mountains, his thoughts turned to the beautiful red-haired tigress whose firm, satiny body had once, on a sultry hot night, moved so responsively under his.

  Kane ground his teeth as his groin swelled and he silently cursed the overwhelming desire that overtook him at the most inopportune times. Kane touched Satan with his spurs.

  All he needed was a cold night in the warm arms of one of madam Mollie Madison's girls. Mollie's house reputedly had the most beautiful prostitutes in Cloudcastle. High-toned, refined, and exotic. Best of all, the girls were clean and accommodating. He would go there as soon as he reached town.

  The temperature was dropping when Kane cantered into Cloudcastle. Needles of icy sleet stung his cold face and his fingers felt stiff inside the tight leather gloves. He went directly to the imposing three-story structure where lights blazed from every portal. An obliging servant appeared from nowhere and Kane, dismounting, tossed him the reins and hurried up the frozen front walk.

  The madam herself answered the door, her round, powdered face lighting up with a warm, welcoming smile when she looked up at the dark-skinned, wide-shouldered man standing on the cold verandah.

  "Mr. Covington," she greeted, "come in, come in at once."

  She motioned a red-jacketed servant forward to take Kane's wet coat and hat. Tapping Kane's chest with her feathered fan, Mollie Madison said coyly, "My girls have been wondering when the handsome southerner would come to see us. They'll be delighted." She steered him into a softly lit parlor where a man was playing "The Man on the Flying Trapeze" on a gold-trimmed piano. A musical backdrop for the seductive sounds of tinkling female laughter, the clink of champagne glasses, and whispered promises of what pleasures could be expected upstairs.

  Kane was in no mood to wait. His blue eyes quickly swept the rose-colored room and settled on a tall, voluptuous beauty with hair as black as his own and eyes the color of warm sherry.

  "Ah, your taste is excellent, Mr. Covington." Mole beamed. "Katrina is my most exotic, prized courtesan. She is also very expensive." Mollie cautiously studied Kane's hard face. It was impassive. She pressed on. "Katrina sees only one gentleman an evening, so if she is your choice… you can stay until morning."

  "I'll do that," said Kane, and without another word made his way across the room. Katrina smiled at him when he put his hand on her small, corseted waist. Together they climbed the wide, carpeted stairs.

  Eager to please the quiet, handsome man in whose strong arms she would be spending the night, Katrina was waiting expectantly in the oversize bed when a clean, naked Kane came out of the ornate bathroom, towel-drying his thick, dark hair. Her sherry eyes greedily traveling down the dark, lean length of him, Katrina could hardly believe her good fortune.

  Kane's gaze moved slowly about the softly lit room and he felt a measure of pleasurable anticipation overtaking his tired, tense body. Outside it was sleeting and cold, but in here… A warm fire blazed brightly in the black marble fireplace. Champagne was chilling in a silver bucket beside the bed; two long-stemmed crystal glasses were ready to be filled. Black satin sheets and huge fluffy pillows made a sensuous playground of the big canopied bed.

  Katrina's sherry eyes were brazenly promising unspoken delights, while her white, voluptuous body was provocatively concealed beneath slick black satin. Long, silky hair had been brushed out and now lay in shiny waves upon the pillow. Bare ivory shoulders were visible as the slithery sheet rode just above the crests of her full, rounded breasts. One long, shapely leg, purposely left outside the covers, was bent at the knee, foot flat upon the mattress.

  Could any man want more?

  Kane let the wet towel slip from his grasp to the scarlet-carpeted floor. With slow, determined strides he went to the bed, put a knee on the mattress, and ran his fingers playfully along the edge of the top sheet, all the while looking down at his beautiful companion.

  "Katrina, are you going to pleasure me all through the night?" he drawled, still standing above her, dark thumb and forefinger sliding back and forth along the sheet's border, his knuckles brushing the rise of her bare, soft bosom.

  "Yes, darling, I am," purred Katrina, and inhaled deeply, causing the sheet to lift with her full, jutting breasts.

  "Good," said Kane, slowly peeling the black satin sheet away, not stopping until it lay at her feet. He stood for only a moment admiring her naked charms before the girl laughed deep in her throat, lifted a slender hand and pulled him into bed with her.

  Half an hour later Kane stood buttoning his trousers while Katrina, full red lips pouting, sherry eyes flashing with anger, sat naked in the rumpled satin bed and eluded, "We've only begun. I will show you a wonderful time, Kane."

  Kane smiled at her. "You already have, Katrina."

  Katrina petulantly swatted a fat, shiny pillow. "You paid for the whole night. Stay and let me fulfill you."

  "I'm fulfilled," said Kane gallantly, exiting the room.

  In no time he was undressing again and crawling between the cold white cotton sheets of his third-floor room at Marge Baker's boardinghouse.

  Kane lay on his bare belly, long arms folded beneath his cheek. He sighed wearily. Sexually, he had performed with zest and hunger and the beautiful Katrina, an expert at her craft, had brought him to a draining climax. The act itself had been pleasurable enough.

  Why, then, did he feel as unfulfilled as ever?

  Unbidden, Natalie's beautiful face appeared in the gloom, so real and so near, yet so unreachable. Kane's fingers ached to touch her flawless skin. His arms trembled with longing to hold her. His abdomen tightened painfully and his hands clutched his lonely pillow as intense, blinding desire overtook him. He cursed aloud in the darkness, swearing at the rigid rod of passion pressing against his bare belly as though he were not responsible, as though it had a mind all its own.

  "Damn you," he swore raggedly, and fli
pped over onto his back, cursing his weakness, his lack of control, and his longing. Forcing himself to envision the beautiful Judge Natalie Vallance lying naked in the arms of Ashlin Blackmore, Kane's hot, coursing blood cooled at last and the physical evidence of desire disappeared.

  The empty longing remained.

  Chapter Seventeen

  During the night the drizzling sleet changed to softly falling snow. By the time Natalie arrived at the Castleton County Courthouse on that wintry Monday morning, the craggy, cloud-high peaks of the rugged mountains were mantled in white and the tiny hamlet of Cloudcastle was lightly dusted with its first snow of the season.

  Natalie unlocked her private chambers behind the courtroom and stepped inside, shivering. Shrugging out of her heavy cashmere cloak, she hurriedly hung it on the coat tree and went about laying a fire in the grate.

  Deciding to leave on the warm, fur-lined boots she was wearing, Natalie stepped behind her desk, idly wondering who had won this year's lottery by correctly predicting the date of Cloudcastle's first snowfall. Most likely it was a flatlander, someone unfamiliar with the region, since October 21 was unusually late for the season's first snow.

  Natalie pondered for a moment. The first snow last year had fallen on September 29th… no, the 28th. She smiled and lifted her eyes to the north window. Huge, wet flakes, driven by a rising west wind, swirled from out of the skies. The sight of them filled her with good cheer.

  Turning to the legal work arrayed before her, Natalie breezily went about the business at hand. She had a civil case to conduct after lunch, but could spend the morning clearing titles, processing deeds, and legalizing patnerships and enterprises.

  Natalie flipped open the top folder on a neat stack and began. She hummed softly as she skimmed the long legal document. She felt lighthearted because in the back of her mind was the pleasing notion that, due to the onset of the snows, Mr. Kane Covington could not continue the construction of his mountain cabin. Nor would he be apt to roam the high, treacherous peaks of Treasure Mountain, hunting for gold.

  Natalie lifted a black pen from its inkwell and thoughtfully tapped her bottom lip with its sharp tip while her green eyes gleamed mischievously. "Covington," she said aloud, "you'll find working out-of-doors up here a bit different than it is way down on the Mississippi Gulf Coast." She laughed then, satisfied that the southerner, who was unaccustomed to the harsh weather in the Rockies, was still, at this late hour, sound asleep in his warm boardinghouse bed. And would most probably remain there. "Welcome to the Colorado Territory, Mr. Covington!"

  Kane added his signature to the brief letter that lay before him on the little writing desk. Then he put down the pen, and reread the words he had written to Colonel James Dunn, the Federal officer who had witnessed Devlin Vallance's signature on the deed Kane held to Promontory Point.

  Kane's path had crossed with Dunn's more than once over the past few years, and despite their different loyalties during the war, the two men had become, if not good friends, reasonably friendly. There was a mutual respect and understanding between the two and Kane was confident the man, who made his home in Denver, would promptly answer his letter.

  Colonel Dunn,

  I am in need of a favor and trust you will give me a hand. As an elected territorial official, you are surely privy to the information I solicit.

  A distinguished Cloudcastle citizen, Lord Ashlin Blackmore, claims he is an agent for a group of influential Denver businessmen seeking to purchase right-of-way land for the proposed Denver-Pacific railway. To my knowledge he has bought nothing although he apparently makes frequent trips to Denver to meet with the board. Do you know anything of him or about him? My reasons for asking are strictly personal; I know you will keep my inquiry confidential, as I will most certainly keep your reply.

  My best to your Mary and the children.

  Kane Covington

  Natalie found the morning's tasks tedious and tiresome. While she loved the challenge and excitement of the courtroom, she disliked the routine paperwork, which piled up as quickly as she could process it. Within an hour she was squirming about in her swivel chair, feeling restless and distracted.

  Natalie rubbed her eyes and glanced at the walnut-cased clock. It was only 9:30 a.m. Sighing, she rose and stretched her arms high over her head, reluctant to continue with her work. The thought struck her that the morning mail had most likely arrived.

  With a heavy cloak around her shoulders and a hood covering her hair, she stepped out into the gently falling snow and carefully picked her way across the nearly deserted street. She reached the wooden sidewalk, placed her hand on a skinny porch pilaster before the barbershop, and stood stamping the loose snow from her boots.

  When Natalie looked up, she saw Kane Covington coming up the sidewalk toward her. Her fingers tightened reflexively on the wooden pilaster and her lips compressed firmly.

  He was bareheaded. A fine dusting of snow adorned his broad shoulders and thick, dark hair. He was smiling warmly, as though it were a balmy summer's day and she were an old, dear friend he was coming to meet.

  It infuriated Natalie.

  "Why aren't you in bed?" she snapped thoughtlessly when he reached her.

  Kane immediately seized the opportunity. "Your Honor," he said with mockery in his blue eyes, "I'm delighted bed comes to mind when you look at me."

  "That is not what I—"

  "When I see you I'm reminded of big, soft four-poster beds," he interrupted smoothly. "It must be something about your—"

  "You," she cut in, "are disgustingly vulgar."

  "But fun, don't you agree? Speaking of fun, I had a bit this morning. I won the lottery; picked the date of Cloudcastle's first snowfall." He patted his breast pocket. "Let me buy you breakfast with part of my winnings." He gave her a maddeningly serene smile, lifted a white envelope he carried in his right hand, and teasingly tapped her high cloak collar.

  "Certainly not." Natalie swatted his hand away and the white envelope slipped from his fingers, fluttering to the snow-covered sidewalk. Kane bent to retrieve it and Natalie's eyes fell on the addressee. Without thinking she blurted out, "James Dunn. That's the man who witnessed your deed to Promontory Point."

  Kane replied calmly, "Yes, it is. Since you're obviously dying of curiosity, shall I tell you what it says?" He knew full well his statement would make her quick to assure him she did not care.

  "Mr. Covington, let me assure you I do not care what you have to say to Mr. Dunn." Kane chuckled and took her arm. "Then walk with me to post it, Judge."

  "Never." Natalie snatched her arm free, stepped around him, and started down the sidewalk. Kane watched the sway of her long, billowing cloak. In two strides he caught up to her, fell into step, and taunted, "Afraid to join me for breakfast? Afraid I'll try to—"

  "I am afraid of nothing. If you'll kindly excuse me." She quickened her steps.

  Kane grinned and pursued her, saying pointedly, "I must get this in the mail and ride up to Promontory Point."

  Natalie stopped walking. "Whatever for? Surely you don't plan to work in this weather?" She gave him a smug smile. "You can't be serious about planning to stay on in Cloud-castle."

  "But I am. This place has seduced me." He grinned evilly and added, "It's rather like you, Judge. Cold, austere, but ah, what priceless treasures lie hidden." Natalie ground her teeth. "Covington, you won't last! You're used to muggy heat and mosquitoes, but you will find—"

  "I find this climate invigorating, Judge." Kane purposely took a long, deep breath. "I'm filled with energy that has to be worked off." His gaze shifted to her mouth. "Sexual energy. Any suggestions?"

  "Just one."

  "Tell me."

  Natalie glanced about. "Stick it in the snow!"

  His deep, rumbling laughter followed her as she flounced away, disappearing inside the Wells Fargo office. The tall clerk looked out from under his green visor, smiled, and handed Natalie a letter.

  Natalie saw the familiar handwriting and
eagerly tore open the envelope, a happy light warming her eyes. Anxiously she read the letter, far too engrossed in it to pay any mind to the man so engrossed with her.

  The letter contained the message she had been looking forward to receiving. Uncle Shelby Sutton, her only living blood relative, was coming to Cloudcastle in three weeks.

  Kane stood studying her as she read the letter. Her beautiful eyes shone happily and her full, pouting lips were lifted in a disarming smile. Kane's lean fingers tightened on the missive he was holding when she absently raised a small white hand and impatiently pushed the hood off her mass of reddish hair.

  Always beautiful, she looked incredibly luscious on cold, snowy morning with her green eyes glittering and her flawless skin glowing with healthy color. Kane felt an unfamiliar attraction to her that was more complex than basic passion.

  Swiftly he reminded himself that although she looked so fresh and young and innocent standing there reading her letter, her appearance was deceiving. She was, in fact, a deceitful, conniving thirty-year-old woman who had been around, and plenty. That slender, tempting body had known the of more than one man, including his own.

  Like the beautiful, viperous Susannah, Natalie Vallance was about as vulnerable as a serpent.

  Nonetheless hot desire rose in him and Kane silently vowed he would have this experienced russet-haired woman again. Once had not been enough. If he could get her into his bed for a couple of nights—or a couple of days—he would no doubt get his Ell of her and promptly forget her.

  He would have a better chance to do so when he lived near her. As soon as he had his cabin completed, he might persuade her that no one need know if they chose to share a few hours of carnal pleasure. Cloud West was remote. No close neighbors. Just the two of them, miles from town, sharing a fierce environment. Paired against the elements, battling blizzards on crackling cold nights. He and the redheaded judge, cut off from civilization, turning to each other in their need.