by Lyn Horner
The next evening, Blake proved his friendship beyond a shadow of a doubt. After supping together once again, he was taking her home. Seated next to him in his rented rig, she tried to listen as he described his home in New York City, but her thoughts kept drifting to Tye. Over a month had passed since she’d received his one brief letter, and her worry was rapidly approaching a state of panic.
Suddenly, Jessie realized she’d missed a question from Blake. Glancing at him, she saw by the light of the carriage lamp that he was frowning. “I’m sorry, Blake,” she hastened to say. “I fear I wasn’t paying attention. Would ye mind repeating that?”
“What’s wrong, Jessie?” he asked sharply. “You seem to be somewhere else tonight. Are you bored with my company?”
“No, not a’tall!” She’d obviously hurt his feelings. “I’m sorry, truly. But I . . . I was thinking about my brother. I’ve not heard a word from him in weeks, and I can’t help worrying.”
Blake reached for her hand. “You should have told me sooner, my dear,” he said, good humor restored. “If I’d known you were concerned, I would have inquired after him a few days ago when I was in Alta. That is where you said he’s working, isn’t it?”
“Aye, that’s the place,” she replied, chagrined to learn she had missed such an opportunity. But Blake seldom told her exactly where his trips took him, and she didn’t think it her business to ask.
“Well, there’s no problem,” he said. “I’m going back out to Little Cottonwood Canyon tomorrow. Since Alta is located at the head of the canyon, I’ll simply make a point of looking up your brother.”
“Oh, Blake! Would ye really?” Jessie began excitedly. Then she caught herself. “But I can’t ask ye to put yourself out for me.”
“Nonsense. What are friends for?”
She swallowed hard. “Aye, and you are a true friend, Blake,” she said with a lump in her throat. Impossible as it was, she wished he could be more than a friend and that she could give him more than a pretense of passion. Why must it be only David who drove her mad with longing?
Blake smiled, pleased by her reaction. As he had on other occasions, he toyed with the idea of taking her now, tonight, but put aside the temptation. He hadn’t spent all this time coaxing Jessie to trust him only to throw it away on one night. She was too perfect to waste. He meant to reap a more lasting reward once she accompanied him to New York, and he felt confident she would jump at the chance to do so.
Meanwhile, he would satisfy his needs in Alta tomorrow night. There were plenty of soiled doves in the raucous mining camp who were willing to do anything he might require, for a price.
He walked Jessie to her door and kissed her good night, certain he would soon taste the kind of response he wanted from her. He would return in a few days with word of her brother, he promised.
* * *
Jessie tossed her soggy shift and work dress in the laundry basket then padded over to the wash stand. Wetting a rag and her nearly used up cake of lilac-scented soap, she washed the day’s accumulation of sweat and cooking smells from her body. It was a relief to feel clean, although she would soon be perspiring again in her hot bedroom. She had opened her window the moment she arrived home from work, but what little breeze there was this evening barely stirred the curtains.
She patted dry, then slipped into a clean shift and donned the new gown she was making. Blake had only been gone two days, but with time dragging by while she awaited his return, she’d found it best to keep busy. That meant working on her sewing when she wasn’t at the café.
By scrimping, she had managed to purchase fabric and trim for two new gowns. The first, a pretty gingham with russet checks closely matching her hair color, had earned Blake’s glowing approval. For the one she now labored on she’d chosen pale lilac muslin with a delicate white flower pattern running through it. Narrow white lace accented the collar, cuffs and yoked bodice.
Working by the light of the setting sun and one small oil lamp was not pleasant, especially in this heat, but all she had left to do was the final hemming. Maybe she could finish it this evening.
First she wanted to double-check the basted length. She pulled her shoes back on, fastened them haphazardly, then buttoned the gown just high enough to hold the waist snugly together. Stepping over to the oval floor mirror she’d borrowed from Mrs. Wilson, she turned slowly, studying the skirt length. She paid no attention to footsteps in the hallway beyond her room – a common sound in any boarding house – until they stopped outside her door.
She looked up in surprise. There came a quick, strident knock that could only belong to Mrs. Wilson. Making a face, Jessie went to the door and opened it a few inches, holding her bodice together. She’d guessed right; there stood her long-faced landlady.
“Good evening, ma’am,” Jessie said, opening the door a bit wider.
The widow stood with her hands clasped primly at her waist. She nodded curtly. “Miss Devlin, you have a gentleman caller.”
Jessie opened the door all the way. “A gentleman?”
“Yes. He’s waiting in the parlor.”
It must be Blake, with news of Tye! She hadn’t expected him back this soon. All thumbs in her excitement, she fumbled with the tiny buttons on her bodice. Catching Mrs. Wilson’s tight-lipped stare, she explained, “I was just trying on the gown.”
“I see.” The older woman’s thin lips twisted in what passed for a smile from her. “I invited the other ladies to join me in my sitting room to allow you and your guest a few minutes’ privacy. At his request.”
Startled, Jessie looked up. “Oh. Uh, thank ye, ma’am.” She didn’t like the sound of this. If Blake only wanted a bit of privacy in order to kiss her, they might have stepped out on the porch. Dear Lord, had he come to deliver bad news? Her mouth went dry with fear. Brushing past her landlady, she rapidly closed her door and started for the stairs.
“Miss Devlin!” the widow barked.
Jessie paused and glanced back impatiently. “Aye?”
“Your gown!” Scowling in disapproval, Mrs. Wilson pointed at Jessie’s still partially open bodice.
“Oh! I’ll get it on the way down.” Ignoring the harpy’s tongue-clucking, she whirled and hurried downstairs, forcing another tiny round into an overly tight buttonhole before she reached the foyer. Too filled with anxiety to bother with the rest, she rushed into the parlor, calling, “Blake! I’m so glad you’re back! I only hope –”
She gasped and teetered on her feet when she saw David standing by the window. Grabbing the back of a chair to steady herself, she stood transfixed, drinking in the sight of him.
CHAPTER NINE
He’s here! He’s really here! How and why, she didn’t care. It was enough that he had come.
His bronze features glowed in the dying rays of the sun, looking even more ruggedly handsome than she remembered. He held his hat tucked under one blue-clad arm, allowing her to see the familiar brown lock that drooped over his brow. She felt a crazy longing to brush it back as she had done so often while he lay delirious with fever in Grand Island. Then she registered his down-turned mouth, angrily flared nostrils and the scornful way he looked her over. Glancing down, she found her bodice gaping open several inches.
“Saints above!” she cried. She thought she’d buttoned it higher than that. Face afire with embarrassment, she snatched the garment together and jammed the last few buttons into place, stammering, “I-I was about to do some sewing and . . . and I didn’t take time –”
“Because you couldn’t wait to see Blake,” David sneered, cutting her off. “Sorry to disappoint you, sweetheart.” His gaze flicked over her insultingly again. “I reckon you two must be real close, hmm?”
It took a moment for the full meaning of his words to sink in. When it did, pain constricted her heart and a wounded gasp burst from her lips. On the heels of pain came white-hot rage. “Muchlach! Swine!” she cried. “How dare ye insinuate that I . . . and he . . . ? Aiee! Get out of here!” She flung out her
arm, pointing to the door.
Burning with his own brand of rage, David ignored her order. He watched her clench and unclench her fists, guessing she’d like to flay him with her claws. Even this way, mad as a cornered vixen, with her blue eyes shooting daggers at him, she was a tempting sight. Her fiery auburn hair formed a silken mantel around her shoulders, and her breasts rose and fell enticingly under that pretty new gown. Tempting all right, but not meant for him, he reminded himself, clenching his own fists at the thought of another man touching the creamy flesh he had just glimpsed.
She noticed where he was looking and snarled, “Take your filthy eyes off me and leave, I say! Or I’ll scream for Mrs. Wilson.”
He laughed harshly and tossed his hat on the sofa. “I see your Irish temper is still intact, Jessie, even if your virtue isn’t.”
“You . . . you bastard!”
David raised his eyebrows. “My, my, such unladylike language. You know, I looked you up just to make sure you got here safely,” he lied, strolling toward her. “But seeing how fetching you look, I’ve a mind to find out if you taste as good as I recall.”
“No! Stay away!” she cried in a high, thin voice. She turned to run but he didn’t let her get far.
Catching her arm, he ignored her panicked outcry and whirled her around. She stared at him, blue eyes huge with alarm. Good. Let her see just how mad he was. She’d driven him loco for weeks with a hunger for her he couldn’t shake off. He’d taken on his current mission just to see her again and had visited damn near every hotel and boardinghouse in this city, looking for her, only to hear her call out another man’s name. Determined to pay her back for putting him through hell, he hauled her into his arms.
She pushed at him. “No! Let me go!”
“Not yet, Jessie,” he growled, feeling her breasts flatten against his chest. “Not until I sample what you were so anxious to give Blake.”
Fury replaced the fear in her bluebonnet eyes. “You’re an evil-minded fiend, David Taylor! I hate ye, d’ye hear? I –”
He tightened his arms around her, cutting off her tirade. “You said you hated me that day by the Platte, too. But you didn’t act like it. Did you say the same thing to your lover before you gave yourself to him?”
“No!” she gasped. “I never did! He never –”
“Save your denials. I don’t want to hear them. There’s just one thing I want to know, and that’s how long it will take you to forget your hatred.”
“Don’t!” she cried as he dipped his head toward her. Trying to avoid him, she turned her face aside, but he tangled his hand in her hair and forced her head around. His mouth imprisoned hers, smothering her protests as she twisted frantically and pounded his back with her fists.
David meant to punish her and prove to them both just how weak she was, how easily she would yield to him, as she must have yielded to her lover. And when she was ready to give him everything, he would walk away and never look back again. So he told himself. But feeling her lips quiver and her body squirm against him, smelling the sweet lilac fragrance he remembered so well, he swiftly forgot his vengeful plan. He had wanted her for too long. He couldn’t remain aloof, especially when her struggles ceased and she opened her mouth under his.
Jessie had sworn to herself she would not yield, but for weeks she’d dreamed of being in his arms. Surrounded now by the heat and scent of him, feeling his bold, hard body next to hers, she lost the will to fight. That fiery yearning only he could awaken wrapped its glowing tendrils around her, overpowering her anger. Her hands opened to hold him and her tongue joined his in the wild mating dance he had taught her back in Grand Island.
Loosening his hold, David stroked her back, sending streaks of lightning all the way to her toes. One big hand slid lower to cup her bottom, pressing her against him. Through layers of clothing, she felt his hardened shaft and secretly wished they were skin to skin, as she had seen them in her dreams.
He dragged his lips from hers and spread hot kisses over her face. When he reached the sensitive place below her ear, she shivered uncontrollably. “Jessie,” he groaned, voice rough with need.
The sound filled her with wonder because it so clearly echoed her own fevered state. His mouth slid lower, scalding her throat, while his hands traveled over her, rousing hot, throbbing sensations that stole her ability to think. She was incapable of raising any objection, even when he undid the buttons she had just finished fastening. Feeling him spread her bodice open and trail his fingertips across the upper curves of her breasts, she threw her head back and moaned softly, leaning heavily upon his supporting arm while his mouth trailed downward.
He dropped slow, wet kisses over her trembling flesh, and she realized dimly that he was loosening the ribbon tie of her chemise. Only when his hand slid beneath the thin fabric to cup her breast did the voice of reason finally cry out for her to stop him.
Jessie’s eyes flew open. “No! Ye mustn’t!” she wailed, suddenly aware of what was happening and where they stood, in the middle of the parlor with no door between them and the hall. Dear Lord, Mrs. Wilson or one of the other boarders could walk in at any moment!
Swearing softly, David raised his head. His face was flushed, his eyes ablaze with passion as he kneaded her breast.
“Don’t!” she gasped, knees wobbling. She clutched his arms and shot a dazed glance at the open doorway to her left.
Following her gaze, his dusky green eyes took on a hard gleam. “Afraid your lover might find us like this, Jessie?” he mocked cruelly.
“No! W-w-why must ye say such things?” Her eyelids fluttered when he flicked his thumbnail lightly back and forth across her nipple, sending a thrill of desire to the hidden depths of her. “Ohhh!”
He gave a menacing laugh. “I hope the bastard does show up so I can pound his face in! But first . . . .” His breath fanned her face as he bent toward her waiting lips.
A shocked gasp sounded from the doorway. Jessie jumped and turned her head. As if conjured by her fearful thoughts, Eleanor Wilson stood there staring at them, a look of horror on her face.
“Oh no!” Jessie cried.
“Hell!” David muttered. Straightening, he dragged his hand from her tingling breast.
“How dare you carry on like this under my roof!” Mrs. Wilson shrieked, hawk-face mottling with rage.
“I-I’m sorry,” Jessie choked, frantically pushing David away and jerking her bodice together.
“Sorry! Is that all you can say? You should be ashamed of yourself, young woman.”
Jessie hung her head. “I am,” she said hoarsely, terrified she was about to be evicted.
The widow turned her sights on David. “As for you, Captain, I am simply appalled that an officer in the United States Army would conduct himself so disgracefully.”
Peeking at him, Jessie watched frown lines frame David’s mouth. Then he sighed and bowed his head formally to Mrs. Wilson.
“You have my sincere apologies, ma’am,” he said, “and I take full responsibility for what happened.” He met Jessie’s gaze and shrugged. “I lost my head, I’m afraid, when Miss Devlin agreed to marry me.”
Jessie gasped and stared at him, voiceless with shock.
“Marry!” Mrs. Wilson blurted.
“Don’t argue,” David whispered barely loud enough for Jessie to hear – as if she were capable of speech. In a normal voice, he said, “That’s right. Jessie just now accepted my proposal.”
Gazing into his guarded eyes during the long silence that followed, she blinked when Mrs. Wilson cleared her throat.
“Well, that’s all very good, but it still doesn’t excuse your scandalous behavior.”
“No, ma’am, it doesn’t, and I give you my word it won’t happen again. I hope you’ll make allowances this once.”
Mrs. Wilson sniffed. “This once, Captain. But for now I want you out of here.”
A muscle bunched along David’s jaw, yet his tone remained polite. “Yes, ma’am. If you’ll give us just a mome
nt?”
By now, Jessie’s heart was pounding so joyfully in her ears that she barely heard her landlady’s stiff-necked huff of agreement.
Taking her arm, David led her over to the window, beyond which evening shadows were setting in. He turned her away from their sharp-eyed observer and pulled her against him. Her pulse fluttered. Euphoric with hope, she forgot every cruel thing he’d ever said to her. She was certain he really was about to ask her to marry him.
He bent to kiss her forehead, making her quiver inside, and said in her ear, “If you’re wise, Jessie, you’ll go along with my story, at least for a while. Otherwise, I suspect you’ll be looking for a place to live.”
Jessie sucked in her breath. His story? He’d made it up merely to save her from being thrown out of the house? She couldn’t take any more of this. Making a choked sound, she tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let her.
“Don’t!” he gritted. “You don’t want to spoil our image as a loving couple, not yet. In a week or two you can say we had a quarrel and the engagement is off. Meanwhile, kiss me to make it look good.” Before she could protest, his lips crushed hers.
She just stood there, feeling like she’d been turned to stone.
Mrs. Wilson cleared her throat loudly. “Captain!”
David lifted his head and frowned at Jessie as if he didn’t know what to make of her. Then his eyes narrowed. “Be glad she walked in when she did, darlin’,” he taunted softly. “Because with you so eager, I doubt I would have been able to stop. Your friend Blake must be a good teacher.”
She hadn’t turned to stone after all, or his scornful words wouldn’t have cut so deep. “No!” she whispered hoarsely. He was the one who’d taught her, the only one.
Releasing her, he grabbed his hat off the sofa and bid Mrs. Wilson good night, while Jessie struggled to hold her gaping bodice together and keep herself from falling apart. David paused to throw her a last glance. Refusing to let him see how badly he’d hurt her, she lifted her chin, drawing an insolent grin from him that made her long to slap his face. Yet, hearing the front door close behind him, she wanted to run after him and beg him not to leave her again. Despising her weakness, she was almost grateful when Mrs. Wilson lit into her.
