Brides of the West (4 page)

Enough. It wasn’t going to happen. She kicked
the sheet off the bed and rolled on her other side, praying for a
cool breeze from the window. A faint breath of air kissed her
cheek, cooled the sweat on her brow. She was halfway tempted to
strip off her nightgown. Mother would be horrified. Or perhaps not.
With the new man in her life, Mother seemed oblivious to
everything, particularly anything Tess had to say. If only Albert
would give up his foolish notions of striking out on his own and
come home everything could be comfortable again.

She punched at her pillow. Blasted heat.

Perhaps if she opened the window more... She
swung her legs over the side of the bed and padded across to the
pale break in the dark wall. She found the casement ajar just a
fraction and flung it wide. To her surprise it opened all the way
to the floor. It was a door. And beyond it a balcony.

Cautiously, she stuck her head outside. It
wasn’t a balcony, so much as an extension of the porch. It must run
around the corner to the front door. The boards out here felt
wonderfully cool beneath her bare feet.

The thought of cool night air on her parched
skin seemed to grab her throat with longing. Dare she? What about
snakes?

She quelled a shudder. Drat it. Was she going
to be intimidated by a creature no wider than a stick and half as
tall as she? Surely snakes didn’t come near houses? They lived out
there
. She glanced at the moon-drenched landscape with the
twisted limbs of mesquite standing like tormented guardians of the
wilderness. Snakes slumbered on rocks in hot sun. Jake never said
anything about them slithering around at night.

One step at a time, maintaining gliding
contact with the rough wood planks beneath her feet, she headed for
the railing. Like the trail of a silent rocket, pinpoints of stars
emblazoned the sky, only fading into inky black to the west, where
the colder light of the moon over-powered their twinkle.

“Oh my,” she breathed.

“Beautiful night, ain’t it?” a deep voice
said. Satisfaction thickened the deep drawl to the texture of rich
cream.

Jake. Her vision adjusted. Leaning against
the railing, his solid bulk blacked out the brighter sky, a shadow
outlined in sequins. She wasn’t the least bit surprised, she
realized with wry amusement. Even if her mind hadn’t told her he
would be here, alone in the dark, her wicked body had known it on
some deep primal level. The pulsing desire that had been a low hum
in her blood from the moment she looked into those indescribably
bright blue eyes now filled her ears with a wild drumbeat.

Oh my. This time, she kept the thought to
herself.

“Good evening, Jake,” she murmured. “I hope I
did not disturb you.”

A long low chuckle emanated across the dark
divide between them. “I came out for a breath of cool air and a
seegar
.”

He pronounced it with such sensual
appreciation her toes curled into the wood.

“Don’t stop on my account. I love the scent
of tobacco.”

He took her at her word, because a moment
later a match flared with the pungent smell of phosphorus. It lit
the hard lean angles of his square face along with the slender
cigarillo clenched in strong white teeth as he inhaled. The cigar
glowed red. His long slow exhale of pleasure blew out the match and
turned her insides to porridge.

The aromatic smoke curled around her as if
forming some invisible link between them.

“Would you care to set a spell?” he
asked.

“Set a spell?” Did he think she looked like a
witch? Was that the reason for his instant dislike?

“I—”

“I can pull the bench up to the rail if you
like.”

Chairs. She squeezed her eyes tight for a
second. He meant sit for a while. Sometimes it was as if these
Americans spoke a foreign language. “Yes. I would like that very
much.” More than she really dared admit, despite the little skip of
her heart.

His shadow moved, disappeared. Wood scraped
against wood and a thump vibrated the planks beneath her feet.
“There you are, ma’am. I mean, Tess.” The smile she couldn’t see
came through loud and clear in his voice. Her heart clenched in
foolish longing and she found herself blinking back moisture.

Gaining her composure with what she hoped was
an inaudible sniff, she slid one hand along the rail for a guide
until her foot encountered the seat’s solid leg. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He lowered himself onto the
other end and swung his booted heels up on the rail with a deep
sigh of contentment. “I reckon I favor this end of the day.”

She ought to be looking at the stars, at the
beauty of nature, but sight of his muscled thighs in tight black
pants held her fixated. Oh great heavens. If she could see him...
She glanced down at her nightgown and was relieved to discover that
while a shaft of light from her room fell across him, she remained
cloaked in the deeper shadow of the porch.

The silence lingered comfortably along with
his cigar smoke. Now, sitting still, she could once more feel the
breeze on her face. It fluttered her gown around her ankles.
Delicious. Cooling.

“Have you lived here long?” she asked.

“All my life.”

“It is...” She struggled for a word to
describe her awe. Big did not seem nearly expressive enough.
“Magnificent. Grand.” She laughed softly. “Beautiful.”

“Different to where you come from?
England?”

“Very. I lived in London, near Cheapside. You
can barely see the sky for smoke and chimney pots.”

“Don’t sound like my kinda place.”

Not in her wildest dreams could she imagine
this loose-limbed cowboy in a top hat and a starched white cravat.
“I like it there,” she said firmly. Exactly who did she hope to
convince?

“Then what brought you all the way out here
to be married?”

She hesitated, unwilling to reveal too much
of the truth. Her body might ache to throw itself into his arms
instead of sitting all prim and proper on the chair at his side,
but she had no reason at all to make him a gift of her trust.

“It’s a long story,” she said. “And of very
little interest.”

***

The husky, almost scratchy, timbre of her
voice set Jake’s blood alight in a ribbon of fire every time she
opened her mouth. Listening to her, inhaling the smell of his soap
on her skin laced with her uniquely female scent was almost as good
as sex. Almost.

Hell. He’d been semi-aroused since the moment
he’d seen her dozing in the sun. But her avoidance of his question
piqued another kind of emotion. Curiosity. A desire to know her
better. Something he rarely felt about women anymore.

“I’ve got all night,” he said.

Again she gave that low hoarse chuckle with
its sharp edge. Blood rushed to his groin as if he was sixteen
instead of going on thirty. If this continued, his
balls’d
be bluer than Uncle Raven’s warpaint by
morning. Cuss it, he’d have to make a trip to the privy to take
care of the matter before he tried to sleep with her not four feet
from his head. And in his bed, no less. Dammit.

“It really isn’t a very interesting tale.”
She gazed out into the night. Against the lamplight, her profile
looked sharp, pointy, nervous, like a fox or a wild cat with its
claws barely sheathed.

“You don’t look old enough to be a widow,” he
said speculatively.

Her head shot around to look in his direction
as if she sought his expression. Could she see his face in the
shadows? He thought not, but kept it noncommittal.

“I married young. My husband was an older
gentleman. A friend of
the family. A
businessman interested in putting money in our family business. It
seemed like a good arrangement at the time.” She spoke quickly,
then paused as if expecting his comment.

“Not so different from a mail order bride,”
he said, feeling just a mite uncomfortable.

“No,” she murmured. “Not so very different,
except that I had known him all my life. He was a good, kind man.
It was the perfect solution to some money problems my parents had
at the time.”

“What happened to your husband?”

“Influenza. Two years ago. It killed a few
people in our neighborhood, mostly the very young and the elderly,
including my husband and my father. I did my best to care for
them.” She sounded almost angry.

“Do you have children?” Lord A’mighty, she
didn’t look strong enough to bear a child.

“No. Sadly not.”

Regret filled those whispered short words.
The ache of sympathy in his chest surprised him. But women from the
East were notoriously fickle. For all that Bill’s wife protested
her love, she’d hated the way child-bearing changed her life.

“So what did make you decide to come all the
way out here, instead of marryin’ one of those fine London
gentlemen?” he asked.

She drew her feet up onto the seat, cradling
her shins with her arms, resting her chin on her knees. He
visualized the slim legs and firm round bottom he’d seen moments
before through the cotton fabric of her gown outlined by the
lamplight spilling from her room.

“I thought it would make a change.”

The slight hesitation told him she was lying.
That saddened him. It weren’t none of his business, and she could
just have said that. For some reason, against all logic, he
felt...disappointed. Left out.

He drew on his cigar. It no longer tasted
good. Hell. Surely by now he was used to the sensation of
exclusion. He’d lived with it all his life.

“I’m sorry I was not the wife you were
seeking,” she said, sounding crisp and practical and yet he thought
he heard a note of regret in those husky tones. Or was it merely
politeness?

“You sure seemed relieved when I said so,” he
replied.

She raised her head a fraction. Wisps of hair
that the moonlight painted black instead of russet, haloed her tiny
face. He sensed her full soft kissable lips curving into a smile,
even though he couldn’t see them.

“To be honest, I wondered what sort of man
needed to buy a wife.”

He winced. The curiosity went both ways it
seemed.

“The
Bride for All
folks surely
mentioned the shortage of women in the West. Suitable women,” he
amended, mentally discarding the kind of women available to
him.

“Do none of the other ranchers around here
have daughters?”

“Some. Their kind set their sights a good bit
higher.” They all knew. His father had made sure the moment he
found out. They’d been looking down their noses at him ever since.
“And there ain’t one of them I’d offer for.” She didn’t need to
know the cold hard facts. She was leaving. Let someone in town tell
her, then he wouldn’t have to see her scorn.

“You are a choosy man.” The small catch in
her voice seemed to express an acre of hurt. It was wishful
thinking putting thoughts in his head, he decided. She was far too
calm to be upset and she’d definitely been pleased when he’d said
it wouldn’t work.

And yet something didn’t feel right under his
skin. He’d been too blunt, maybe. “It ain’t got nothin’ to do with
you personally. My rejection.” Shit. That sounded bad. “I mean a
woman like you ain’t cut out for this life. I expected someone
stronger, more...” Hell the stiffness of her body indicated he was
digging himself a hole as deep as the Grand Canyon. “Substantial.”
God. That sounded as if he was only interested in tits. And she had
lovely breasts, palm sized, like peaches. “Older. To take care of
the boys. They are a couple of scallywags at the best of times. Old
Tom Wilkins knew my needs.”

Her chin dropped back on her knees and her
long loose hair fell around her shoulders, veiling her face. “You
are a good uncle to them.”

“Family comes first.” It always had. And he
wasn’t about to risk it for a bad case of lust.

“I understand,” she whispered.

And strangely he sensed that she did. Tension
oozed out of his shoulders.

“I am used to boys, though,” she went on. “My
father had a gaggle of apprentices in his workshop and I have a
younger brother.”

He swallowed. “Are you suggestin’ you want to
stay?”

“Oh, no. Not at all. The sooner I get to San
Antonio the better.”

The evidence of her desire to leave was
undeniable and cutting. He curled his lip. “Are you lookin’ to
A
Bride for All
to give you another contract?” He found he didn’t
like the idea one little bit. Naw. Stronger than that. He hated the
idea.

“No. I don’t think so.”

The relief sparking through him kindled
anger. At himself. Dammit. It didn’t matter what she did after she
left here. He dropped his feet from the rail, stood, flicked his
stogy onto the boards and crushed it beneath a boot heel. “I’ll
take you to town in the mornin’. I need to pick up some supplies.
Might as well do it this week as next.”

She rose, facing him. “Jake?”

“Yes.” He ached for her to touch him with her
hands, the way she caressed him with her voice. She stood but a
shoulder-width, mebbe less, from his chest. If she took a deep
breath her breasts might actually graze the fabric of his shirt, if
he judged it right and breathed in at the exact same moment.

“Thank you for saving me from that horrid
snake,” she murmured. “I should not have given you the rough edge
of my tongue for being late. I was rude.”

The deep regret in her voice plumb puzzled
him.

He grunted and put a hand on her fine-boned
shoulder. It was like touching a bird, one squeeze and the bones
would crush beneath his fingers. “I was just mighty thankful you
didn’t faint clean away.”

She tipped her chin. “I’ve never fainted in
my life.”

She sounded so cross, he believed her. His
gaze dropped to the lush lips that spoke with such cute feminine
indignation and felt his own curve in a smile.