Suddenly a girl called out to him, and he glanced over to find that he was passing the Gem Theatre. Reining in the mules, he turned his head and saw a flame-haired female running out of the dark alley. She wore a shawl around her shoulders, which came loose from her head as she waved at him, nearly dropping her carpetbag and satchel in the process.
Good God, Lorna! He'd completely forgotten her—and now, frankly, he wished she'd forgotten him, too. What had possessed him to ask her to join him? Sighing, Fox decided that he'd send her back with the first party of travelers he encountered that was Deadwood-bound. In the meantime the diversions she would offer might be more welcome than ever.
"Can you climb up on your own?" he called.
The girl nodded. Fox looked back, under the canvas that arched over the wagon, and saw her throw her belongings up in back and clamber on board herself.
"I'm... in!" she exclaimed breathlessly.
"It's late and there's a lot for me to worry about," Fox replied. " Fox replied. "Why don't you try to get some sleep? I'll wake you later, when we're well on our way."
Maddie nodded, then collapsed gratefully on her back. The boxes of supplies and rifles provided an effective shield between her and Fox, and obviously he hadn't recognized her. She pressed her hand over her mouth to smother a nervous giggle. The wagon rolled onward, lumbering through the crowds and then up the twisted roads that led northeast out of Deadwood Gulch.
PART 3
Press close bare-bosomed night—
press close magnetic nourishing night!
Night of the south winds—
night of the large few stars!
Still nodding night—
mad naked summer night.
~ Walt Whitman
Chapter 13
August 3, 1876
Raindrops had begun to pelt the canvas that shielded the wagon. Opening her eyes, Maddie felt confused and disoriented until, slowly, her memory righted itself.
Where were they? The wagon was stopped; Watson had been untied from the back. Throwing off quilts, Maddie crawled tentatively to the back of the wagon and peeked outside, terrified that Fox might come around the corner and surprise her.
They were in a clearing of pine trees. The moon shone fitfully overhead, dimmed by the silvery rain clouds scudding across the night sky. The air was warm, sultry, and pine-scented. The world seemed to have shrunk, consisting only of the clearing and the wagon filled with wooden boxes, frayed quilts, and Maddie. She felt thrillingly alive as she lay back in the dark and listened to the spattering raindrops, waiting to discover what would happen next.
After a few minutes the occasional rustling sounds outside became more focused. Maddie heard Watson stepping through the clearing, followed by Fox's whispered reassurances. The very sound of his voice acted on her like an aphrodisiac. She didn't care what the consequences might be. She didn't care if he cast her aside afterward, sent her home on foot, vowed never to speak to her again. As long as she could have him this one time, she cared for nothing else. There was no other man in all the world save Fox, and tonight he would lie with her.
Even the quest for Sun Smile was forgotten as Maddie feigned sleep, listening as Fox tied Watson to the back of the wagon. He must have taken the horse to a nearby creek and brought water back, for she could hear liquid pouring into a tin pan, then splashes and muffled sighs. Fox was washing. She opened her eyes, peeking just enough to see him haloed in moonlight, shirtless, running his hands through his damp hair. Crystal droplets fell onto the tapering splendor of his chest. Fox drank deeply then from a canteen and climbed up into the back of the wagon.
Maddie's heart thundered as she felt his gaze linger on her. Could he see the color flooding her cheeks? A moment passed and she peeked again, just as he was pulling off his trousers. She caught a glimpse of bare, muscular flank, the hard arc of his buttocks... and felt herself responding with a shock of hunger mixed with panic. Dear God, what now?
Fox, of course, shared none of her apprehension about the situation. It had been so long since he'd been with a woman, and he was done with holding back. Little Bighorn, Maddie, Wild Bill... a storm of conflicting emotions swirled within him, clamoring for relief. Well, Lorna would be happy to accommodate him—and with no strings attached. She would numb his feelings and demand nothing for herself, which was lucky because he had nothing to give.
Stretching out beside her on the rumpled quilts, Fox marveled again at the uncanny resemblance Lorna bore to Madeleine. She lay on her side toward him, her shadowed face partially hidden by loose curls. In the darkness it would be so easy to pretend... and the mere thought sent desire's hot blood coursing through his veins. He touched her cheek with the back of his forefinger. When her eyelid fluttered, he whispered, "Hello," and felt for the tiny buttons down the back of her gown. He smiled to himself when he found that she'd done up only every other one. "Don't worry, honey, this won't take long. I'd just like to see a little more of you."
He'll know as soon as he looks into my eyes, Maddie thought, and then everything will be different. He'll be with me then...
But Fox had no time to waste on romantic gazes. He buried his face in her tumbled marmalade curls and allowed himself to believe that it was Maddie's scent he inhaled. It was easier if he kept his eyes closed...
How warm the night air was! His mouth was hot on her brow, temple, and the tenderer spots that trailed down her neck. Almost roughly he pulled the faded calico gown from her body. When he realized that she wore no undergarments, he made a low sound of approval that only fanned the fire of Maddie's misgivings.
He bared her breasts and touched them softly, marveling at their beauty. When his mouth teased a puckered nipple, the feel of it against his tongue made him suddenly mad with need. With an urgency that left no room for any gentler sensibilities, he finished undressing her and pressed her back into the quilts. Her warm, lithe, enticingly curved body was all that he had fantasized, and more. She even smelled like Madeleine. The other day, outside the Gem Theatre, she'd reeked of the same strong, cheap scent that all the whores seemed to share. Tonight, though, in the misty, rain-washed, dark woods, her skin was pure and unmarked and smelled faintly of fresh flowers.
Her waist was nearly as narrow as the span of his two hands. Her hair was like liquid silk. Her mouth was delicious. Even her ears, delicate as buds, were clean and sweet. Fox began to feel as if some fairy had cast a spell on this clearing in the trees, granting him the fulfillment of his most extravagant longings.
Desire raging more fiercely by the second, he at last surrendered to the fantasy. Deft fingers found her secret places, and each touch revealed delicate beauty. "My God," he whispered, "you're beautiful...."
There was no reply, merely a soft sound that struck him as vaguely tragic. But when he kissed her, he tasted the salty warmth of tears. He would have pulled back then, but she stopped him. With a tiny hand she reached down and touched him, guiding him toward her essence. And when she arched her hips against him and opened her thighs, Fox released the animal he'd kept leashed inside for so long.
The sensation of entering her body, which was soft, snug, warm, moist, and welcoming, was bliss beyond his experience. She clutched his back, gasping, as he thrust deeper. Cupping her bottom with work-roughened hands, he fused their bodies completely and then drew back, repeating the movements until they were caught together in a pounding rhythm so primitive that all thought was obliterated.
"Ah, Maddie..." Fox breathed against her ear.
Madeleine felt a burst of joy when she heard her own name. He does care, she thought triumphantly. Giving herself over at last to the act of love, she met his thrusts, running her fingertips over Fox's shoulders and the chiseled lines of his face. When he opened his eyes and looked down at her in the darkness, she gave him an incandescent smile and whispered, "Yes, yes, it's me... Maddie!"
Fox felt his heart stop for an instant. The shock nearly drained the blood from his body, but his manhood had a life of it
s own. So close... he was so close... and now, as his climax built to uncharted heights, he shut his eyes and willed his thoughts to cease. Release came in an explosion of pure ecstasy, pleasure so intense and new that he realized he would never be able to erase its memory.
In the wake of his fulfillment came despair, shame, disbelief... followed almost immediately by a flood of questions. Drawing away from Madeleine, he reached for one of the quilts and threw it over her hastily.
"What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded. "Have you lost your mind?"
"No." She met his angry stare, her green eyes luminous in the moonlight. "I made careful plans, aided by Gramma Susan. I knew what I was doing." She prayed he couldn't see the blush that suffused her cheeks or the tears that stung her eyes. "I wanted—I wanted this."
The knot of tenderness in Fox's chest only made him angrier. "Damn you! Did it ever occur to you that I might not want you—especially under these circumstances? Didn't I make myself plain enough in Deadwood when I told you to stay away from me?"
"I didn't believe you," she murmured.
"Oh, you didn't?" His eyes burned into hers. "You tricked me! I didn't want to go near you, my dear Miss Avery, yet you took it upon yourself to override my wishes and—"
"But, Fox," she interrupted, "this was your wish. You said my name in the middle of the love act."
Furious, he jumped out the back of the wagon and pulled on his trousers. "Damn you! I thought you were a lady! How could you give yourself to a man who didn't want you—who thought you were someone else... For God's sake, put something on! I'm going for a walk."
"But... what shall I do?"
"Walk back to Deadwood for all I care," Fox replied in a jaggedly icy voice.
* * *
Dawn crept over the pine-studded hilltops in lambent shades of gold and coral. As Fox approached the wagon, he inhaled the air, freshened by the brief rain shower, and wished that his own mind and heart could be cleansed as easily. The more he thought, the more confused he became as feelings of anger and longing rose up to complicate matters. Of course, he knew that there were no solutions to this problem with Madeleine. An attachment between them was impossible; he had too many secrets, too much guilt, and a nagging feeling that he wasn't entitled to love and the deep happiness it would bring him. Besides, a woman like Maddie deserved better. Fox felt tainted now, broken.
His eyes burned as he leaned against the back of the wagon and gazed at her sleeping form. How in the name of reason had this masquerade of hers failed to arouse his suspicions? He wasn't a fool! Now, despite his efforts to do the right thing where she was concerned, he'd taken her virginity and possibly gotten her with child without even realizing it was she with whom he was coupling.
The possibility that he had suspected, even known all along deep down, was one he refused to consider.
And what was he to do with her now? His heart ached to look at her, her delicious body swimming in his shirt, legs twisted in a threadbare quilt, long curls swirling outward like a halo of flames. Maddie's face, strong, delicate, and vulnerable all at once, was dearer to him than he cared to contemplate. And that terrified him. If only she could turn into Lorna. Lorna would open her arms to him and then shake his hand when she returned to Deadwood. She'd know better than to expect anything from a man like him.
A man like him...
You know better than that, Annie Sunday's voice scolded softly from a corner of his mind. You're not like the others... and Madeleine knows it. Isn't that why you're afraid of her?
He rubbed his eyes with strong, tanned fingers and shook his head. God only knew what he could do with Maddie, but for now he had to get some sleep or he'd be a madman for the remainder of the day. Smiling ruefully, he climbed into the back of the wagon, settling down beside her on the quilts.
This time, however, he kept his pants on.
* * *
The scolding cry of a blue jay awakened Maddie to the full light of morning. The bird had glided over and perched on the back of the wagon, eyeing a piece of apple Watson had apparently dropped on the ground. The horse nickered at the jay and it flew away.
Even under the canvas that canopied the wagon, it was growing warm. Maddie felt drowsy but oddly content. Stretching, she turned on her side and her face touched Fox's. Her breasts brushed against him and her hand fluttered uncertainly above his chest. He was breathing deeply.
Tears filled her eyes. She yearned to rest her hand on the muscled planes of his chest, to snuggle against him and listen to the slow beat of his heart. What had passed between them in the night did not seem real, despite the soreness between her legs. Of course she had wanted passion, and she had been determined to uncover the mysteries of mating, but now she realized that most of all she wanted to touch this man who made her feel so acutely, excitingly alive. She wanted to learn his body, all its secrets, and to share hers with him.
Reluctantly Maddie sat up, sighing as Fox's shirtsleeves slipped below her hands. Dreams were all well and good, but for now they would have to remain dreams. Fox still kept the door to his heart bolted, guarding it jealously, as if he knew it would open spontaneously to Maddie if he relaxed his defenses for even a moment.
It was almost pleasure enough just to look at him now, she thought with a smile. He was so handsome! Every detail of his face more than measured up to the fantasies she'd nurtured since childhood. Those challenging eyes, safely closed now, usually warned hers away, so this opportunity to stare was a luxury.
Satisfied at last, Madeleine crawled carefully, silently, to the back of the wagon, plucked her satchel from a corner, and emerged into the morning sunlight. Watson watched as she stepped behind a tree, rifled through her bag, then dressed quickly in a plain lawn chemise and tan cotton gown sprigged with green flowers. None of the clothes she'd brought were particularly attractive because she'd opted instead for her coolest work dresses.
Maddie fastened up the back of her gown, then groomed her hair with a silver-backed brush and tied it with a ribbon. Finally, after buttoning her feet into embroidered kid slippers, she took a long look around.
The wagon had been stopped in the middle of a verdant clearing above the rutted road that led eastward out of the Hills. On one side, the mountain slanted upward, covered with a rich mixture of ponderosa pine, spruce, and quaking aspen. To the left, the hillside swept down to an open meadow bathed in sunlight. Through the nearest part of the meadow rambled a stream where two mule deer were drinking, their black-tipped tails flicking in the warm breeze. Jackrabbits raced across the far side of the dew-spangled meadow, while meadowlarks sang in a nearby stand of paper birch trees. Wildflowers bloomed in profusion among the meadow grasses: purple shooting stars, orange wood lilies, yellow-blossomed prickly pears, and even wild roses. Maddie stared in open wonderment for long minutes, watching the mule deer until they lifted their heads and disappeared into the forest.
The stream, rushing over worn stones, beckoned to her. From her satchel she withdrew a tin cup, flannel cloth, linen towel, and a bar of rose-scented soap, then found a shallow spot where she could kneel beside the water and fill her cup.
The water tasted incredibly delicious. After drinking two cups, Maddie felt a wave of euphoria sweep over her. In spite of Fox's attitude, she sensed that this journey was necessary for both of them, whatever the outcome.
She set about washing then, soaping the cloth and scrubbing her face, neck, hands, arms, and, after a quick peek around, between her breasts. It wasn't a proper bath, but it was quite lovely and refreshing. She bent over the stream, skirts hitched up above her knees, and began to rinse the soap away.
"I should have known," a male voice remarked from some distance behind her. "Only Miss Madeleine Avery would attempt to bathe in nature as if Philadelphia society were watching and waiting for a lapse in propriety!"
She pressed the linen towel to her face, straightened her shoulders, and turned unhurriedly. "Well, if it isn't the unfailingly charming Mr.... What was your su
rname again? Or don't you have one?"
Bare-chested and sleepy-eyed, Fox walked down to her side. "It's not that I don't have one, my dear, but simply that I don't need one. That's the beauty of life in the West. One isn't confined by a lot of stiff-necked rules." He gestured toward her bar of scented soap and the linen towel discreetly monogrammed with Maddie's mother's initials. "You call that a bath?"
"It will have to suffice for the moment," she replied warily.
Fox nodded. "You mean until we reach that elegant hotel where there's a hand-painted bathtub and two maids waiting to wash your hair and dry you off? There's bound to be one between here and Bear Butte."
"You needn't be sarcastic," she replied. "I shall simply make due as the need arises. It's really none of your concern."
"Well, if you don't mind," he said, strolling downstream where the stream deepened, "I believe I'll have a bath myself. There's nothing like the water in the Hills to make you feel alive, especially when a trout swims against you."
Maddie stood watching mutely as Fox began stripping off his trousers. At first she felt certain he was only teasing her, but then it became embarrassingly clear that he was serious. At the crucial moment she turned away and heard him laugh. Splashing sounds followed. Peeking between her fingers, she saw that he was waist deep in water. She took her hand away.
"Why are you laughing?"
"Because you seem to be of two minds. Last night you were a brazen temptress, insisting that passion burned in your soul, unashamed. This morning you are covered from neck to toe, bathing like a spinster and blushing when I choose to take off my clothes and wash effectively!" His blue eyes danced and he reached up with both hands to push back his wet hair, thereby giving her an unobstructed view of his magnificent chest. Sunlight percolated through the birch leaves to dapple him with gold.
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