Darlin' Druid

by Lyn Horner

  Much to her relief, Ivar had not let his anger at the Gentile League affect his response to her request for time off to visit the dressmaker. In fact, he had encouraged her, saying, “Pretty new clothes maybe will make your sad smile happy.” He was far too good at reading her gloomy mood.

  If only she could drive David out of her head, but in the week since his distressing visit, he had dwelled constantly in her thoughts and in her shameful dreams. No matter how she berated herself, her body longed for his touch and her traitorous heart cried out for the sight of him. Even now, in Blake’s company, she could not stop thinking of David.

  Smiling absently, she nodded in response to Blake’s latest remark about New York City, a subject he never tired of these days. He was obviously eager to go home. She could hardly blame him for that, but she wondered what need she would have for her costly new gowns after he left. More to the point, how would she get along without him to cheer her?

  Caught up in her brooding reflections, Jessie stared at the floor as they neared the dining room entrance.

  “Well, well, if it isn’t Miss Devlin,” a familiar voice drawled contemptuously.

  Jessie snapped her head up and stopped in her tracks, forcing Blake to do likewise as her fingers dug into his arm. Too stunned to notice his reaction, she stared at the narrowed gray-green eyes boring into her from across the threshold. “You!” she gasped, feeling blood drain from her head. “What are ye doing here?”

  He laughed harshly. “Having supper, although I’m sorry to say I’m just leaving.” Slashing a glance at Blake, he drawled sarcastically, “Too bad you and your friend didn’t arrive sooner, Jessie. We could have shared a table. That might have been real interesting.”

  Before she could deliver a scathing retort, Blake said acidly, “I believe an introduction is in order, Jessie.”

  She glanced at him, startled by his tone. His eyes were locked on David, and his face wore a hard, disdainful expression. He looked like a stranger, one she didn’t want to know. Her first impulse was to turn and walk away, leaving the two of them to glare at each other, or whatever they pleased to do. But she refused to run.

  “Blake Stanton, Captain David Taylor,” she snapped.

  Her words sent a jolt of alarm through David. He jerked his furious gaze from Jessie to the man at her side. Blake Stanton? No, it couldn’t be! But he knew the arrogant dandy must be the same man he had heard about up in Alta a couple of days ago. He’d been nosing around, hunting the murdering deserter he was after, when he crossed paths with a battered whore named Sarah. She’d had plenty to say about the “duded-up” easterner with sand colored hair who had hurt her. His name was Stanton and he enjoyed hitting women.

  My God, how had Jessie gotten mixed up with him?

  Forcing himself to return the man’s stiff-necked nod, David looked Jessie over again. The fancy gown she wore, the color of which nearly matched her eyes, hadn’t come cheap. It must be a gift from Stanton. Did she love his money so much that she didn’t care what he demanded of her in return? Somehow, that didn’t seem like Jessie.

  “You’re obviously acquainted with Miss Devlin, sir,” Stanton barked. “Perhaps you wouldn’t mind telling me how the two of you happen to know each other, just to satisfy my curiosity.”

  David saw Jessie’s eyes widen in alarm, pleading with him not to say too much, not to spoil things for her. He was mad enough to consider letting her have it her way, until his gaze skimmed down her throat to the deep v-neck of her gown. No bruises marred her lovely skin. Perhaps Stanton hadn’t yet shown her his taste for violence. If not, she likely had no idea what lay hidden behind his gentleman’s act. Cursing her for being taken-in by the perverted sidewinder, and himself for caring, David knew he had to warn her.

  He shrugged, gaze still locked with hers. “Not that much to tell. We met back in Omaha. Didn’t exactly hit it off, did we, Jessie?” His remark lit a fire in her eyes, and her lips thinned in anger. He grinned mockingly, then crossed his arms and stared at Stanton.

  “I’ve heard of you, mister. You’ve got a reputation with the ladies.”

  Stanton stiffened and something flickered in his eyes. Fear of exposure perhaps? He darted a glance at Jessie, and she gave him a confused look, confirming David’s suspicion that she knew nothing of her lover’s nasty preferences.

  Recovering quickly, Stanton said, “You’ve mistaken me for someone else, sir. Now, if you will excuse us, we came here for dinner.” He stepped forward boldly with Jessie in tow, challenging David to move out of their way.

  David didn’t move. “Mistake, hell! I ran into –”

  “Stop it!” Jessie hissed, drawing his gaze. Her face glowed red with fury across the small space separating them. “Just stop it, d’ye hear?”

  Uncrossing his arms, he glowered at her. “Dammit, woman, you don’t know –”

  “I know you’re interfering in my life. And I’ll have no more of it!”

  He clenched his teeth, wanting to grab her and shake her and make her hear him out.

  Stanton tucked Jessie’s hand more firmly into the crook of his elbow and patted it possessively. “You heard the lady, Captain,” he said with a gloating smile. “Now step aside.”

  David longed to cram his fist into the bastard’s teeth, but meeting Jessie’s angry glare again, he decided if she didn’t want to listen, then so be it. “By all means, don’t let me detain you,” he said, speaking only to her. He brushed past her, picking up a fleeting whiff of her perfume, and stalked out before he lost his head and dragged her forcibly away from that depraved animal she was with.

  CHAPTER TEN

  After coming face to face with David, the last thing Jessie wanted to do was sit down to dinner with Blake. Too upset to care what she ate, she let him do the ordering.

  He took her hand as the waiter scurried away. “Jessie, I assure you I have no idea what the boorish captain meant with his comment about me,” he said earnestly.

  She squeezed his hand. “Don’t concern yourself about it, Blake. He was merely trying to cause trouble between us, I’m sure.”

  The tension seemed to flow out of his body, but he still watched her closely. “I gathered that. But what I don’t understand is why. Can you explain it?”

  Jessie lowered her lashes, shuttering her eyes, and resisted the urge to pull her hand away. Of course he was curious. Could she blame him?

  Reluctantly, she explained how she’d “met” David in Omaha, admitting they had also taken the same train west. She elaborated about that as little as possible, leaving out any mention of Wolf Gerard and Grand Island. Nor did she say anything about David coming to the boarding house. That would require further explaining, which she refused to get into.

  Changing the subject abruptly, she prayed their meal would arrive soon. But when it finally did come, she only picked at her food, and naturally Blake noticed.

  “You really shouldn’t let that Taylor fellow spoil your evening, Jessie,” he said, sounding rather testy.

  She smiled regretfully. “You’re right. I’ll put him from my mind.” She forked something, she wasn’t sure what, into her mouth. “Mmm, very good,” she lied. After that she put on a show of gaiety, hardly knowing what she was saying, but Blake quickly saw through it.

  “That’s enough, Jessie,” he snapped, interrupting her chatter. “You needn’t pretend. I’m not blind. You are obviously still upset due to the loutish captain.”

  Jessie stared at him, startled for the second time that night by his harsh tone. She shook her head. “No, I . . . I’m not.”

  Blake ignored her denial. “What I want to know, my dear, is why. Just how well do you really know him? And please don’t offend my intelligence by repeating the same feeble story. I want the truth. All of it!” He glowered at her, eyes fierce with accusation.

  Jessie couldn’t believe her ears. Was this really Blake making such jealous demands of her? Appalled, she felt genuine anger toward him for the first time. Along with it came a f
eeling of betrayal. He’d always been so kind and understanding that she’d come to trust him completely. Now here he was tearing into her exactly as David had done that night at Mrs. Wilson’s. Well, she wouldn’t stand for it!

  Glaring at him, she replied in a furious undertone, “I’ll not be spoken to that way, Blake Stanton, by you or any man. And I’ll thank ye to remember ye have no right to question me.”

  Rage suffused his features for a few seconds but then vanished as quickly as it had appeared. He threw a furtive glance around to see if their angry, low-voiced words had been overheard. When he looked at her again, it was with cool reserve.

  “You’re right, of course. I have no business interrogating you. My . . . concern for you simply got the better of me, I’m afraid. Please forgive me.” His mustache curled with his forced smile.

  His switch from jealous anger to polite regret came too fast. The anger was still there, smoldering behind his shuttered expression. And she wasn’t about to forgive him until he was ready to apologize and mean it.

  “We both need time to consider matters, I’m thinking,” she said. “For now, ’twould best if ye take me home. Please.”

  A muscle jumped along Blake’s jaw. For a moment, she thought he might lose his temper again, but he contained it. “As you wish, Jessie,” he said, sounding as cold as ice.

  Other than a few polite phrases, they had nothing to say during the ride back to her boarding house. Tension crackled between them, and Jessie grew suddenly nervous about being alone with him in the dark.

  Ridiculous! You’ve never been afraid of him before. Aye, but he’d never before acted the way he had tonight. She simply could not understand his jealous display. Did he feel more for her than she had believed? If so, why hadn’t he let her know? And that savage anger she’d glimpsed for those few seconds -- where had that come from?

  When they drew up in front of the boardinghouse, she climbed down from the buggy before Blake could come around and assist her, not caring about her gown now. He did not offer his arm, either, as he walked her silently to her door.

  They stood there in the dim yellow light, staring at each other. Jessie bit her lip, wondering what he was thinking and searching for something to say. Finally, he removed his hat and unbent enough to speak.

  “I hope what happened tonight won’t come between us. It would be a shame if we ended our friendship this way, don’t you agree?”

  Jessie sighed in regret. “Aye, that I do, but as I said, I believe we both need time to think. Perhaps in a few days . . . .”

  He turned his head and stared into the darkness, a frown creasing his refined features. After a moment, he looked at her and nodded curtly. “Right. Well then, there’s nothing more to say. Good night, Jessie.”

  “Good night, Blake,” she whispered downheartedly. She watched him walk away, thinking he and David weren’t so different after all. They’d both managed to hurt her.

  * * *

  Blake lashed the buggy horse into a trot, venting his fury on the animal, wishing it were Jessie. When he got her where he wanted her, where he could count on absolute privacy, the bitch would pay for her defiance. And she would tell him everything about her involvement with that insolent cur, Taylor. Oh yes, he’d make sure she did.

  He ground his teeth. The slut had duped him with her coy, maidenly game. She’d used him, coerced him into showing her a good time, kept him dancing to her tune, damn her! But she had outsmarted herself tonight by refusing to listen to Taylor’s warning. Blake felt sure she would yet agree to go east with him, for his money if nothing else, and then . . . . He smiled at the thought of how he would curb Jessie’s Irish temper and teach her to fulfill his every wish.

  Meanwhile, he supposed he would have to crawl back to her with his tail between his legs just as she wanted him to do. Let her enjoy her little victory. Soon, it would be her turn to crawl.

  His mood improved when he recalled how his other plans were coming together. Peters, the dithering geologist he was saddled with, had finally approved a claim, the one they’d come across on MountBaldy near Alta.

  Did Jessie remember the favor he’d done her by locating her brother up in the mining camp? She would, Blake vowed.

  At any rate, the assay report on the promising claim looked highly favorable. Peters had finished his poking around and was satisfied at last. Now it was up to Blake to negotiate the deal, but he foresaw no problems there. The fifty thousand dollars he was authorized to offer would seem like a fortune to the ragged prospector who’d staked the claim. Without capital to develop it, the man was eager to sell.

  Once he secured the owner’s signature and handed over payment in cash – as he would make sure the fool insisted upon – Blake would call in the two thugs he’d recruited during his travels to the mining camps. They would relieve the prospector of his windfall along with his life, before eating lead themselves. It would look like just another robbery and murder – common in the rowdy camps – with two villains killed by their victim before he died, while a third robber escaped with the loot. And that lucky fellow would be him.

  Blake stroked his mustache and laughed. He would return home with a fat bonus on top of the fee from his patrons. And Jessie was going to be the icing on his cake.

  * * *

  Two days later, on another empty Sunday afternoon, Jessie lay stretched out on her bed, staring at the ceiling. The house was quiet. Eleanor Wilson and the other boarders had gone to an ice cream social. Jessie had pointedly not been invited to go along. Not that she minded; she was too tired to want to do anything.

  Closing her eyes, she tried to clear her mind. If she could only fall asleep, perhaps her dull headache would go away, and this long day would pass a bit faster. At least her room wasn’t an oven as usual, thanks to a brief let-up in the summer heat.

  She’d slept poorly since her latest confrontation with David and her resulting clash with Blake. She simply couldn’t stop rehashing David’s sarcastic taunts and Blake’s jealous reaction. “Concern” he’d called it, but it had sounded like jealousy to her. Nevertheless, she wished now that she had accepted his apology, no matter how insincere it was. Would she see him again, or would he leave for New York without saying good-bye? She hoped not. As he’d said, it would be a shame for their friendship to end this way, on such a sour note.

  Recalling David’s strange remark about Blake having a reputation with the ladies, she frowned. What had he meant, she wondered not for the first time. He had tried to tell her, but she’d been too furious to stand there and listen – and watch him provoke Blake into a fight, as she was certain he would have done. Later, Blake had denied knowing what David was talking about, but Jessie questioned whether he’d been completely truthful.

  As to her feelings for David, they remained a confusion of outrage, despair and a hellish yearning she could not overcome, no matter how hard she tried. Certain now that he must be posted at CampDouglas, she told herself it made no difference. She was sure he would not pay her any further visits, and wasn’t that for the best? Seeing him again would only give him another chance to hurt her.

  One question nagged at her: why should David care if she kept company with another man, much less behave with such hostility, when he did not want her for himself? Except, that is, in the physical sense. That was undeniable. But he’d told her bluntly that day by the PlatteRiver that he would never choose “a reckless, bad-tempered little witch” like her for his wife. Words she would never forget.

  Jessie yawned and drowsily recalled something else. David had vowed to forget her once they went their separate ways. But he hadn’t. He’d come here looking for her. Only to seduce her and leave her heartbroken, as she had assumed? Or might he have some other reason? Before she could examine the possibility, she dozed off.

  Something woke her, she didn’t know what. Disoriented, she lay still for a moment and heard someone walking up the stairs. Then came the sound of footsteps in the hall, followed by a knock on her door. Sitt
ing up, she wondered how long she’d slept. Long enough to make her headache go away, at least.

  Had the other women returned home? It struck her that those footsteps had sounded heavier, like a man’s. A man, up here?

  David! It must be him! Surely not Blake; he was too much a gentleman to even think of coming up to her room.

  Giddy with hope, she flung herself off the bed, then stopped. She was furious with David, she remembered. She shouldn’t open the door. Aye, but then she’d lose a chance to give him a piece of her mind for the other night. And maybe a chance to be held and kissed by him once more.

  Sweet Mary, she was a shameless hussy. But she didn't care!

  She glanced down at the wrinkled skirt of her faded blue gown. She hadn’t bothered to remove it, thinking she would take only a short nap. Hastily smoothing the wrinkles and running her fingers through her disarranged hair, she wondered how David had gotten up here. It didn’t sound like the others were back yet, and Mrs. Wilson always locked the front door. Had she forgotten to lock it today, and he’d simply walked in? Another soft knock sounded, scattering her thoughts to the four winds.

  “I’m coming,” she called. Dashing forward, she shot back the bolt with trembling fingers and jerked open the door. To her shock, she met guarded hazel eyes instead of gray-green ones.

  “Blake!” she exclaimed, awash with disappointment.

  “Hello, Jessie,” he said in a subdued voice, hat in hand.

  “How did ye get up here?” she blurted, saying the first thing that entered her mind.

  He smiled sheepishly. “No one answered my knock, so I, ahem, let myself in and came upstairs. I knew this must be your room, since you once pointed out your window.”

  “Aye?”

  “Forgive me for taking such a liberty, but it’s important that I speak with you.” He gazed at her earnestly, fingering the brim of his brown derby.