Rafe relaxed. “The kids’d like that. Maybe you can come on Sunday mornin’ when they’re not down in the mine. You think Fenton’ll agree?”
“I sorta think he will,” Kane said, finishing his whiskey. “I guess I better go look for my wife. The way she’s feelin’ about me right now, she just might leave me here.”
Rafe rose. “You better let me find her, and I guess you’ll have to ride home in the back of the wagon. If the guards saw you leave when you didn’t enter, they’d get suspicious, and then the other ladies that drive wagons could get in trouble.”
Kane nodded. He didn’t like the idea but he knew the sense of it.
“Kane,” Rafe said as he stood by the door. “If I could give you some advice about Houston, it’d be to just be patient with her. Women have odd ideas about things that men can’t begin to understand. Try courtin’ her. You did somethin’ that won her in the first place, so maybe you can repeat it if you try courtin’ her all over again.”
“She don’t much like presents,” Kane muttered.
“Maybe you’re not givin’ her the right presents. One time, a girl was real mad at me, and what made her come ’round was when I gave her a puppy. Just a little mutt, but she loved it. She was real grateful, if you know what I mean.” With a smile and a wink, Rafe left the cabin.
* * *
Houston waited all the way back to Kane’s house for his explosion, but it never came. He climbed onto the wagon seat with her after she was out of sight of the guards and, although Houston never said a word, he talked to her about the scenery and some about his business. A few times she started to reply, but she stopped herself. Her anger at him was too deep, and she couldn’t soften toward him. He’d soon realize that she could never love him again, and he’d have to release her from being his prisoner.
At home, he said good night to her politely and went to his office. The next day, he came to her sitting room at lunch time and, without a word, took her hand and led her down the stairs to the kitchen, where he picked up a picnic basket from Mrs. Murchison. Still holding her hand, he led her down the paths of the garden to the very bottom—to the statue of Diana where they’d once made love.
Houston stood rigid while he spread the white linen cloth and the food, and he had to pull her to make her sit on the cloth. All through the meal, which she just nibbled at, Kane talked to her. He told her more about his business, telling her what a difficult time he was having without Edan to help him.
Houston didn’t reply to anything he said, but her silence didn’t seem to bother him.
After they’d finished eating, Kane turned around and put his head in her lap and continued talking. He told her about talking to Rafe about his mother. He told her about how dingy Rafe’s house had been and how his own quarters, when he was growing up, hadn’t been nearly as bad.
“You think there’s somethin’ I could do to get Uncle Rafe away from the mines? He’s not a young man any longer, and I’d like to do somethin’.”
Houston didn’t speak for a moment. She’d never heard such a question from Kane. “You can’t offer him a job because he’d think it was charity,” she said.
“That’s what I thought. I don’t know what to do. If you have any ideas, will you let me know?”
“Yes,” she said hesitantly, and into her mind’s eye came the picture of Rafe walking with Pamela. They made a striking couple.
“I have to go back to work now,” he said, startling her by kissing her quickly and sweetly as he rose. “Why don’t you stay here and enjoy the garden?”
He left her alone and Houston wandered about looking at the plants, and in the rose garden she borrowed a pair of clippers from a gardener and snipped a few blooms. It was the first time since she’d arrived that she’d done anything that wasn’t absolutely necessary. “Just because the master is horrible is no reason to hate the house,” she said to herself to justify carrying the roses inside.
When Kane came to dinner, the house was full of freshly cut flowers, and he did little more than grin at Houston all the way through the meal.
The next day, Blair came to luncheon, talked about her friend from Pennsylvania, Dr. Louise Bleeker, who’d come to help in the clinic, and asked if Houston was all right. For some reason, Blair no longer seemed to hate Kane.
“Things aren’t much better,” Houston said, toying with her meal. “And you?”
Blair hesitated. “Lee will get over it, I’m sure.”
“Over it?”
“He’s a bit angry with me right now. I, ah . . . made a journey in the back of his buggy. But let’s talk about you.”
“Let’s talk about the magazine. I have two new articles for you.”
On Sunday, Kane roused Houston from bed, remaining far back from her, not getting too close to her sleepy form inside the warm bed. He tossed on the bed a dress of deep rose zephyr-gingham that was trimmed with narrow bands of black velvet ribbon. “Wear that and get dressed as fast as you can,” he ordered before leaving the room.
Minutes later, he returned wearing corduroy trousers, a bright blue flannel shirt and navy suspenders. He stood for a moment looking at Houston in her underwear, the tight corset pushing her breasts up above the lace-edged chemise, her legs encased, from the knee down, in black silk stockings with little butterflies going up one side, and wearing tiny black leather high-heeled shoes.
He gaped at her for a moment, then turned and left the room as if, if he stayed any longer, he might not live through it.
Houston dropped the robe she’d grabbed but not bothered to cover herself with and let out a sigh. She told herself that it was a sigh of relief and not the sigh of regret that it sounded like.
He didn’t tell her where they were going when he lifted her into the buggy that he’d given her, but started driving. Houston didn’t ask him where they were headed, but her face showed her surprise when they turned up the road to the Little Pamela mine.
The guards allowed them to pass without so much as a challenge or a question and, once through the gate, people came out of the houses and began following them. Houston started to wave to a few women she knew.
“They don’t know you when you’re clean,” Kane warned her.
She couldn’t help looking around, as more and more people began following them, and there were enormous smiles on the children’s faces.
“What have you done?” she asked.
“There,” he answered, pointing. In front of them was the only open area in the camp, the mine mouth in the background. In the center of the dirt field were wooden crates.
Kane halted the buggy and two boys with black-rimmed eyes held the horse as he helped Houston down. When they were standing on the inside of the circle of people who had gathered around the boxes, Kane grinned and said loudly, “Go to it boys.”
As Houston watched the boys tear into the crates, Rafe walked up behind them.
“The boxes came two days ago, and I didn’t think you’d mind if I told ’em what was inside. They’ve been dancin’ around and nervous with excitement since then,” Rafe said, as he put his hand on his nephew’s shoulder.
Houston looked at that hand on her husband’s shoulder with astonishment before turning back to see what the boys had found in the crates. They withdrew baseball equipment: uniforms, bats, gloves, balls, catchers’ face masks.
Kane turned to Houston, his face showing his expectation.
Had he done all this just to impress her, she wondered. She looked about the circle of parents who looked on their sons adoringly. “And what did you get for the girls?”
“Girls?” Kane asked. “Girls can’t play baseball.”
“No? What about tennis, archery, bicycling, gymnastics, fencing?”
“Fencing?” Kane said, his face turning to anger. “I guess nobody can please you, can they, Miss Ice Lady? Nobody’s up to your standards, are they?” he asked before turning away and walking toward the boys, who were swinging bats and tossing balls in the air.
<
br /> Houston moved away from the crowd. Perhaps she had been a little too hard on him. Perhaps she should have said something nice about his trying to help the boys. It was what she’d always wanted to happen and, when it did, she was ungrateful.
At least, she could make the best of the day and not stand sulking in a corner. She stepped forward and spoke to a little girl near her and began explaining some of the rules of baseball. Within minutes, Houston had a crowd around her of women and girls, and even some men who had never seen the game before. By the time Kane and Rafe had organized the boys into teams, Houston had started a cheering section to applaud the boys’ progress, no matter how inept it was.
Two hours after they arrived, a four-horse wagon came barrelling into the midst of the people. Everyone stopped dead still, thinking that it must mean that a disaster had occurred.
The driver, red-faced and sweating, was Mr. Vaughn, who owned the sporting goods store. “Taggert!” he yelled at Kane as he controlled the sweaty horses. “This is the last time that I make an order like this for you. I don’t care if you buy my whole store, I ain’t workin’ on Sunday for nobody.”
“Did you bring everything?” Kane asked, moving to the back of the wagon that was covered with canvas. “And stop bellyachin’. With the prices I’ve paid you in the last months, I do own your store.”
The crowd laughed, enjoying the power money gave a man to say what he wanted to anyone. But Houston was watching the back of the wagon.
“Well, look at this,” Kane said, pulling out a tennis racquet. “I don’t think we can hit a baseball with this.” He turned to a little girl standing by him. “Maybe you could use this.”
The child took the racquet but didn’t move. “What is it?” she whispered.
Kane pointed to Houston. “See that lady there? She can show you how to use it.”
Houston walked straight to her husband, put her arms about his neck and kissed him, much to the delight of the people around them. When he wouldn’t let her go, Houston pushed at him.
“I guess I finally found the right present,” he said to someone over her shoulder as he pressed her close.
As Houston moved away from him, she heard Rafe laugh.
The rest of the afternoon, Houston didn’t have much time to think as she organized games of tennis and showed girls how to use the archery equipment. There were balls, hoops and sticks, jump ropes, jacks, dolls, paper dolls. She had her hands full just trying to portion out the goods fairly, and the mothers helped her soothe the girls who thought they weren’t getting their fair share.
Before Houston knew it, it was sundown, and Kane came to her and put his arm about her shoulders. As she looked up at him, she knew that she still loved him. Perhaps he wasn’t the man she had first thought he was, perhaps he was capable of living his life for the sole purpose of revenge, and maybe today was only a show of his hatred for Jacob Fenton, but at the moment, she didn’t care. She’d promised to love him for better or worse and his obsession with revenge was part of the worse. As she looked up at him, she knew that she’d always love him, no matter what he did, no matter what dreadful motives he had for the things he did. She would stand by him and love him even if he took everything the Fentons owned.
“You ready, honey?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said and meant the word from the bottom of her heart.
Chapter 28
Kane didn’t look at Houston as they left the coal camp and drove past the sullen guards. He held the reins tightly and kept his, eyes on the road ahead.
Houston looked at nothing else but him, wondering how she could have so little pride as to admit to being in love with a man who used her. But as she looked at him, she knew that she couldn’t help herself.
At the foot of the hill, just before the road turned back to the main highway, Kane stopped the wagon. The sun was going down in a riot of pinks and oranges, setting the horizon on fire. The cool mountain air was growing cooler, the air was fragrant with the scent of sage, the road was littered with the silvery pieces of coke from the ovens, and blowing in the gentle breeze were feathery seedpods.
“Why are we stopping?” she asked, as he came around to her side of the wagon and lifted his arms to her.
“Because, love,” he said, pulling her down into his arms, “I don’t think that I can wait any longer to make love to you.”
“Kane . . . ” she began to protest, “we can’t stop here. Someone might come along.”
She said no more because he was holding her in his arms, drawing her closer to him, his hands beginning to caress her back. Houston leaned into him with all the fervor she felt.
He drew back from her, touching her cheek with a rare gentleness. “I missed you, honey,” he whispered. “I missed you a lot.”
The next minute, all gentleness was gone as his mouth swooped down on hers and hungrily caught her lips under his own.
Houston was as eager for him as he was for her. Her body melted against his, her curves fluidly conforming to the hard planes of his body.
The next minute, he pushed her away and looked at the expression of rapture and desire he saw on her face. With a look of fortitude, he moved away from her and went to the back of the wagon and removed the piece of canvas. After he’d spread it on the ground, behind the privacy of Piñon trees and juniper shrubs, he held his hand out to her.
Slowly, Houston walked toward him, watching him, her mind a blank except for thoughts of the pleasure to come.
His hands were shaking as he began to undress her, slowly working the tiny buttons loose one by one. “I’ve been thinkin’ about this for a long time,” he said softly. The dim evening light made shadows of his lashes across his face, making him look younger and very vulnerable. “You asked me once about other women. I don’t guess I ever even thought about a woman once I was outta bed with her—in fact, I don’t think I thought about her while I was in bed with her. And worst of all, I sure as hell never told a woman all the things I’ve told you in the last few months. Are you a lady or a witch?”
As his hand slid inside her dress, touching her skin, finding her breast and sending the warmth of his touch throughout her body, Houston put her arms around his neck, pressed her lips to his. “I’m a witch who’s in love with you,” she whispered.
Kane grabbed her to him so close that she felt her ribs giving way, and only a squeal of protest made him loosen his grip.
There was no more talk as Kane attacked her with all the pent-up desire that he had stored. And Houston responded in the same manner.
With exuberance, they both began tearing at each other’s clothes, and the still night air was filled with the sound of bits of fabric tearing when a reluctant button refused to slide through the hole.
Houston wasn’t given time to remove her hose and high heels before Kane was on her, his hot mouth running over every bit of skin that he could find. She dug her nails into his flesh and pulled him closer and closer until they were one person.
As she started to open her mouth, Kane closed it with his own. “You scream here, Ice Lady, and you’ll get us some unwanted visitors.”
Houston had no idea what he was talking about and had no intention of wasting her time finding out. Yet every few minutes, Kane would clamp down on her mouth with whatever was handy and Houston kissed whatever he placed there.
She had no idea of time or of how long they were there, because her thoughts were taken up with Kane’s body that was sometimes on top of hers, sometimes under, beside, sitting and, even once, she thought, standing. Her hair was plastered to her face with sweat, hanging down her back in wet tendrils—and everywhere she was surrounded by Kane’s skin: hot, damp, moving, delicious skin that was hers for the tasting and the touching. Her long-stored desires, her nearness to losing the man she loved, made her insatiable. They came together, then broke apart, reunited and at last came together for the last final, paralyzing thrust.
They slept for a few minutes, locked together, their skin fused.
Kane roused after a while and pulled the end of the canvas over them and snuggled his jacket about Houston’s bare upper body. He looked at her for a moment in the moonlight, at her sleeping face, smoothed back her drying hair. “Who woulda thought that a lady like you . . . ” he whispered, before trailing off, pulling her to rest on his shoulder and lying back on the canvas.
Houston woke an hour later to Kane’s hand running up and down her body, his thumb playing with the pink tip of her breast. She smiled at him in a dreamy way.
“I got all a man can ask for,” Kane said, moving to his side. “I got a naked woman in my arms and she’s smilin’ at me.” He put his big thigh between hers. “Hey, lady, you wanta get tumbled by the stableboy?”
She rubbed her hips against his. “Only if he’s very gentle and doesn’t frighten me with his barbarian ways.”
Kane gave a grunt as his mouth followed his hand. “When a man wants somethin’, he uses a gun or a knife, but, honey, the weapons you use scare me to death.”
“You look terrified,” she said, as she took his ear lobe between her teeth.
This time they made love leisurely, taking their time, and not feeling frantic or rushed, and when they were finished, they lay still, in each other’s arms, and slept. Sometime during the night, Kane rose and unhitched the horses from the wagon. When Houston sleepily asked him what he was doing, he said, “Once a stableboy, always a stableboy,” before coming back to the canvas that was their bed.
Before the sun came up, they stirred and wakened and began to talk. Kane lay on his back, Houston draped around him, and talked about how much pleasure he’d had in seeing the children with the toys that he’d given them. “Why do some of the boys look like raccoons?”
It took Houston a while to understand what he meant. “They work in the mines and haven’t yet learned how to wash the dust out of their eyes.”
“But some of those boys were just babies, or at least not much older. They couldn’t . . . ”
“They do,” Houston answered, and they were silent for a moment. “You know something I’d like to do for all the mines instead of just one?”
Twin of Ice Page 27