A Restless Wind

by Brandt, Siara

  The back of Jesse’s forefinger rubbed slowly across the whiskers on his chin as he sat there silent and thoughtful, listening to her talk about things like decency and honor. Her words got him to thinking about his own thoughts which, no doubt, she would not think were completely decent, or honorable, at the moment. He shook his head slightly to dislodge the wayward thoughts.

  “It’s very generous of you to let the Forbes live here,” he heard her say.

  “It isn’t putting me out any.”

  “Still, it’s very kind of you.”

  He heard the soft, almost wistful quality in her voice and knew she was pleased with him. He felt something like regret deep inside. Before this was over, she wasn’t going to think he was kind or generous. Decency? Forget it. And honor? She’d never use that word in the same sentence with his name.

  “I know that it took a lot of work to get this place fit to live in,” he said.

  “I haven’t minded at all,” she said. “I enjoy spending time with the Forbes.”

  She talked about what they’d accomplished in the house, about a tea part with Emma that afternoon and how Will was starting to take his chores very seriously. He talked about repairs to the barn and the fences, the supply of wood he’d chopped and split to get the Forbes through the winter and how a cow would be a welcome source of milk for the family since there was enough pasture and room in the barn.

  It was intimate. Comfortable. Like a conversation between a husband and wife at the end of the day. Hetty got up from her chair and came back with a large glass jar which she set on the table.

  “I baked molasses cookies with Emma this morning for her tea party,” she said. “She has been waiting to give you some.”

  He didn’t immediately reply to her offer. As she passed close to him, her skirt brushed his leg. Awareness made his gut clench. He swallowed, knowing he needed to put distance between them.

  “You’re supposed to say, ‘Yes, I’d love some molasses cookies’,” she teased. “Because Emma baked them not only for her tea party, but to thank you for the birthday presents.”

  When he finally found his voice, he told her that the pie was enough for now, but that he would take some cookies with him for later.

  Talking with Jesse like this, discussing the day with him while the rain was falling outside felt surprisingly cozy. Was this how married people felt? Hetty wondered. She didn’t know where that thought had come from except that it must have been because of Will and his questions earlier about marrying Jesse.

  Next came the completely unbidden thought that if they were married, they would be going upstairs to one of the bedrooms. Together. And then . . .

  Then, she had some idea of what it would be like to be held by Jesse McLaren, to have those strong arms wrapped around her, to have his body pressed intimately against hers. And she definitely knew what it was like to be kissed by him. But what if it wasn’t just one kiss. What if he kept on kissing her? She knew what Jesse’s masculine hunger could be like. She’d had a taste of that before.

  She didn’t know where the next wanton image came from, but it was a startlingly clear image of Jesse on his bed. In his room. With her.

  The kitchen suddenly felt too warm. Flustered, she turned from the table and put the jar of cookies away.

  “Can I get anything else for you?” she asked as she turned. And then she busied herself wiping crumbs from the table.

  He couldn’t help it. Her innocent words brought a few suggestions to mind. His hunger wasn’t for food, however. But for something else entirely.

  As she moved, the candle flames flickered. The shadows wavered. Her long curls shimmered like burnished gold. There was no denying it. The woman stole his breath. Along with his common sense apparently.

  When Hetty glanced over at Jesse from beneath her lashes, a commotion like one of Pierce’s stampedes flowed through her veins. His eyes, that looked like silver in the candlelight, were watching her with something unfathomable in their depths. Something that caused a shiver to run down her spine and settle low down in her stomach.

  “It’s late,” she heard him say, the husky quality and the lingering of his gaze sending a new heat racing through her blood.

  With an effort, Jesse tore his gaze away from her. It took every ounce of his willpower to keep from getting up from his chair and dragging her against him and kissing her senseless.

  He wasn’t going to let that happen.

  “It’s late,” he repeated.

  “Yes,” she replied very quietly.

  “Good night,” he said and as suddenly as he’d come, he was gone.

  Chapter 16

  Hetty thanked Pierce as he handed her a glass of sarsaparilla. “Are you sure you don’t want me to get you something a little stronger?” Pierce asked. “This is a celebration after all.”

  “All right, Pierce,” Hetty finally relented. Lieta had already had some champagne and Amiline Marsten was just now finishing her second glassful.

  Filled to overflowing, the meeting hall where the reception was being held was crowded with guests. More guests were still arriving. Carriages, wagons and buckboards of every description lined the wide main street of Eminence. Through the open doors Hetty could see a crowd of cowboys standing outside. Pierce stopped to talk to some of them on his way to get the champagne.

  The wedding had been an elaborate affair. The wedding party had just taken seats at a long table strewn with flowers while the light from a hundred lighted candles glowed softly overhead. The bride was radiant in ivory silk and a drape of rich lace over her dark hair. Glasses were raised in yet another congratulatory toast. Soon the first strains of music were heard and the bride and groom began their first dance as a married couple.

  “How are you feeling?” Hetty asked Lieta.

  “Better,” Lieta replied as she unfolded her silk fan. “I might even be able to manage a dance or two.”

  Amiline Marsten was dressed in amber silk richly trimmed in black velvet and lace. “If you do dance, take care with your skirt,” Amiline said as she leaned towards Lieta. “Some of them are wearing spurs. I can tell you, spurs will absolutely ruin a dress.”

  Hetty looked curiously at Amiline. There was something different about her tonight. Maybe it was the champagne. The shawl of rich black lace that Amiline was wearing dipped below her bare shoulders. She swept it off with an impatient sigh and draped it over her arm. There was a sudden change in Amiline’s dark eyes and Hetty followed the direction of her gaze.

  Brent Marsten was standing on the other side of the room. Brent was flawlessly dressed in a well-fitting black coat with a crisp white shirt beneath it. A silk tie was precisely knotted at his throat. An expensive-looking gold watch chain hanging from his pocket caught the gleam of candlelight, while black polished leather boots completed the look of a well-to-do rancher.

  Brent was twirling a glass of amber-colored liquid in his hand while he conversed with the local banker. As if he knew she was watching him, Brent was suddenly looking back at her.

  The look held for several moments before Hetty shifted her gaze when a high-pitched cowboy yell rose above the music. She knew that there was whiskey outside and that it had been flowing pretty freely already. This was no doubt going to be a lively affair that would probably last until dawn. And it was almost a certainty that a fight or two would break out sometime during the night. Mixing cowboys and whiskey practically guaranteed it.

  Adalia Sweet and Alva Peasley joined them. Alva was silent as she concentrated on the plate of refreshments in her hand.

  Adalia compressed her thin lips for a moment as she watched the bride and groom dance by and whispered tightly, “Did you see that kiss in the church? In a house of God, no less. But then I wouldn’t expect anything different from Evalia Bannet, the brazen thing.”

  “Evalia Cantey,” Amiline pointed out, sipping champagne from her third glass that night.

  Adalia’s gaze was still fixed on Evalia. “The woman’s behavio
r is positively scandalous. I don’t know if she even knows the meaning of the word propriety. I can’t imagine that we actually allowed that woman to be our school teacher for two years.” Adalia paused a moment to frown down at the drink in Amiline’s hand.

  “No one knew about her past,” Alva remarked as she picked up another pastry from her plate. “She certainly didn’t offer the information about having once worked in a saloon. But then, what woman would?”

  Amiline was watching Alva over the rim of her glass. She shifted her gaze when Adalia gave a mocking snort.

  “No, she didn’t,” Adalia went on. “But once the cat was out of the bag, she didn’t seem to care what anyone thought.”

  “No,” Amiline murmured. “Apparently not.”

  Adalia turned with an impatient frown. “Finally,” she huffed. “There’s Henry. I have been looking for him for the past half hour.”

  Amiline took another sip of her drink and watched Adalia and Alva walk away. “The old biddy,” Amiline said under her breath. She looked at Hetty and Lieta. “Adalia Sweet might look a little closer to home if she is looking for a scandal.”

  Lieta lifted one dark brow as she raised her own glass to her lips, her interest piqued.

  “There isn’t a female around who is safe from Henry Sweet’s lecherous imaginings,” Amiline went on. “I happen to know that dear Henry was caught in the very act with Adalia’s niece when she was visiting them last summer. And rumor has it that he has gotten one of the saloon girls with child. Look at him watching us. Wouldn’t you just like to slap that leering smirk off his face.”

  Amiline finished her champagne and gave a hard little laugh. “And poor Alva. The woman is eating her way through her unhappiness. Not too many people know that Verlin Peasley is a domestic tyrant and an abusive drunk, because- ” She paused and looked meaningfully at Hetty and Lieta. “Alva hides the bruises. Yes,” Amiline said, narrowing her eyes. “If the truth be known, this whole town has its dirty little secrets. So very upright. And so very hypocritical. Almost everyone has something to hide.”

  Amiline shrugged bare shoulders. “People can have a shallow perception sometimes. Women spend their entire lives pretending that they don’t see what goes on around them, pretending that they are happy while men- ” She made a sweeping gesture with her hand. “Well, no one thinks twice about a man’s behavior. Or his reputation . . . ”

  Amiline’s voice trailed off. “Speaking of reputations. Look who just walked through the door.”

  Hetty followed the direction of Amiline’s gaze. Jesse had just appeared at the other side of the hall. He stood in the doorway, idly watching the dancers. Hetty watched as Amiline’s dark eyes raked over him slowly, from the long midnight black hair down to his unspurred black boots. Across the room, Adalia Sweet’s brows rose to a condemning arch as she caught sight of Jesse. She leaned over and began to whisper heatedly into Alva Peasley’s ear.

  “He is easily the best-looking man here,” Amiline commented, still watching Jesse. “Don’t you think?”

  Lieta smiled. “Why, Amiline Marsten. You said yourself the man was a rogue of the worst sort.”

  “What man isn’t?” Amiline said, a slow smile lifting the corners of her mouth. “But I dare say, it would be interesting taming that one.”

  “It probably never could be done,” Lieta remarked without taking her eyes off Jesse.

  Amiline, still studying Jesse, said, “Oh, I don’t know. With the right woman he might submit to a little taming. Just a little though,” she added. “We wouldn’t want him too tame.”

  Amiline and Lieta laughed together and Amiline said, with a smile still lingering, “He’s looking over here now.”

  Jesse had caught sight of Hetty the moment he stepped through the doorway. In a dress of deep blue taffeta trimmed in black lace and her soft curls gathered in a most becoming way, she was easily the most beautiful woman here. He watched Pierce lead her out onto the dance floor, then watched her dance with Brent Marsten. He couldn’t help but notice the territorial attitude Marsten had toward her.

  He had made up his mind before he even came here that he wasn’t going to dance with her. He absolutely wasn’t going to do it. He did accept the invitation of the other women to join their group and he told himself that talking to Hetty in the crowded room was only being polite.

  But then, hell, somehow he took leave of his senses as he stood before her. Yes, he had definitely lost his mind for he heard himself ask her to dance. What surprised him even more, she said yes.

  As Hetty took Jesse’s hand, she was aware that more than a few heads turned in their direction. Across the room, Adalia Sweet’s face was clearly etched with shocked and sour disapproval. Alva Peasley stared as her mouth dropped open. Pierce gave her a grin as he waltzed by with Lieta in his arms.

  “We’re getting a few stares,” Jesse said, one dark brow lifting as he looked down at her.

  “Are we? I should think that the wedding would have given them enough to gossip about.”

  “They never have enough to gossip about,” Jesse said as he led her around the crowded floor.

  “They do have some pretty wild stories to tell about you,” she teased boldly.

  “I reckon I have a bad reputation,” he admitted. “But the truth is that half of what you hear is lies.”

  “And the other half?” she questioned with even more boldness.

  He gave her a wicked grin. “I used to be a little wild. But mostly I’ve gotten over it.”

  “Mostly?”

  “Mostly,” he replied.

  Something in his voice made her more aware of how close they were, of how his hand was holding hers and how the other strong hand was molded to her waist. Amiline was right. He was the most handsome man here. Easily. He was intensely, breathtakingly handsome.

  She was jostled against Jesse’s hard chest when a drunken cowboy bumped into her back. She looked up at Jesse and felt a strange catch in her chest. But by then the song was over and Jesse was leading her back to Amiline and Lieta. It was not, however, before she caught a glimpse of an angry Brent Marsten watching her from across the room.

  Amiline had apparently also seen the look in Brent’s eyes. “There’s no reason you shouldn’t dance with him,” Amiline said. “Underneath he’s as much a gentleman as any of them. Moreso than some.”

  A frown touched Amiline’s face as she glanced across the room. She leaned close to Hetty to confide, “If a man looked at me the way Jesse McLaren sometimes looks at you, I’d leave all this behind in a heartbeat.”

  Hetty stared at Amiline. Obviously Amiline had had too much to drink. An expression of sadness or regret, perhaps both, flickered in Amiline’s eyes. She seemed about to say something else, but she quickly shifted moods, laughed and said, “I’ll bet under all that prim and proper, Adalia Sweet would like nothing better than to be in Jesse McLaren’s arms. Instead of that bald, overweight, unfaithful husband of hers.

  “What do you think, Hetty? If the woman had Jesse in her bed at night instead of Henry, maybe she wouldn’t look so sour and frustrated. Maybe she wouldn’t have to hide behind that shield of righteous indignation, or look like she’d just had a glass of cider that had gone bad.”

  Hetty remained silent. She didn’t know what to say. She watched as Amiline accepted another glass of champagne from Pierce.

  Amiline lifted her eyebrows and said, “You didn’t think you were the only one in this town to embrace the cause of woman’s equality, did you?” She raised her glass first to Hetty and then to Lieta. “Here’s to women’s liberation.”

  Pierce handed Hetty a glass of champagne. Hetty was left alone while everyone else went out onto the floor to dance. She was not alone for long. Hard fingers dug into her arm. She turned to see Brent standing over her, his jaw clenched and an intensity in his eyes that startled her. She jerked her gaze around as the first fight of the night broke out.

  What Jesse needed at the moment was a good stiff drink. And some
distance. The saloon was crowded. The familiar smells surrounded him. Liquor. Cigar smoke. Sweat. And cloyingly sweet perfume. The place, only three doors down from the meeting hall where the reception was being held, was thronged with cowboys looking to drink, gamble or devote themselves to other pursuits.

  Pierce Champlin was at the bar beside him, downing a glass of whiskey. Jesse threw a coin on the bar and drank the shot of whiskey that was placed before him.

  Pierce paused with his glass held halfway between the bar and his mouth. “Look what just walked in,” he said and gestured with his jaw towards the door.

  Jesse looked around. Rafe Landry had just walked in. Landry could be one hell of a mean drunk and it was obvious he’d been drinking. When he was drinking, he was always looking for a fight.

  Two years ago, Jesse had warned a drunken Landry to back off when Jesse had come upon the man drawing his fist back, ready to smash that fist into his pregnant wife’s face for the second time. Landry’s reply had been to tell Jesse to mind his own business and go to hell. And then after a few more words, Landry had tried to draw on Jesse, leaving Jesse no choice but to shoot the man first.

  Landry’s wife had left him after that and Jesse had heard that Landry had gone pretty wild for a time. He had even been caught stealing horses from one of the local ranchers. Even though there was no doubt about the man’s guilt, the sheriff had let Landry out of jail after serving only two days. Either it made no sense or it was making too much sense.

  Landry edged his way to the crowded bar right beside Pierce. He forced himself in hard enough that he jostled the drink that Pierce had been lifting to his mouth. Whiskey splashed over the rim of the glass onto Pierce’s hand.

  Pierce’s lips thinned into a humorless smile. He straightened, set his glass down carefully and turned to the man. Landry smiled, clearly looking forward to some kind of altercation.

  Pierce was unsmiling as he jerked his chin to his left. “There’s plenty of room at the other end of the bar,” he said.