Holding Out for a Hero

by Ana Leigh

  It was hard to believe that in such a short span of time he had come to mean so much to her. Every feature, everything he did, was etched on her mind: his smooth glide of a walk, his effortless grace mounting a horse, the sensual-edged huskiness of his voice, his warm chuckle when he was amused, the way his beautiful dark eyes would brim with laughter or smolder with passion.

  And Lord, how she missed his touch. The gentle brush of his fingers on her cheek, the warmth of his palm when he caressed her.

  She closed her eyes, reliving the way his kiss could set her blood burning through her body.

  No other man had ever had this effect on her. She couldn’t wait for his return, and wondered if he even gave a thought to her when he was away.

  Jenny sighed and tucked her hand under her cheek.

  Would morning ever come?

  The following morning Andrea was perfectly calm, but pandemonium reigned around her in the form of Cynthia Hardy.

  The colonel’s wife had already organized the lunch the previous day, and the women of the fort had generously opened up their hearts as well as their china cabinets and cedar chests, resulting in such gifts as a rocking chair once occupied by General Ulysses S. Grant, a pair of candlesticks cast by the famous silversmith Paul Revere, embroidered napkins and tablecloths, and a patchwork quilt.

  Now, on this morning of the wedding, Cynthia’s voice, pointing fingers, and flying arms could be heard or seen nonstop as she issued one order after another to the minions under her command.

  She had assigned the task of preparing specific foods and desserts including a three-tiered wedding cake, to a dozen officers’ wives.

  She had seen to the collection of white tablecloths, punch bowls, glasses, plates, and utensils for the food.

  She had discussed with Sergeant Dugan, the leader of Fort Redemption’s band, the selections of music she wanted and the time each song should be played.

  She had sent out patrols to gather flowers off the blooming cacti for the bridal bouquet and centerpieces.

  She had formed a decorating committee to make bows and ribbons to decorate the pine boughs that now filled the room with their aromatic scent.

  She had even assigned the task of pressing Captain Masters’s uniform and Rico Fraser’s suit and shirt to the wife of one of the noncommissioned officers.

  But her greatest accomplishment had been convincing Maude Evans to donate kegs of beer for the dancing that would follow dinner.

  “With our door open, I can hear Aunt Cynthia giving orders all the way over here,” Jenny said.

  “I can’t imagine how I’d have done it without her help,” Andrea replied.

  “I know, she’s incredible. I wish I could have been more help to you, but she made it my responsibility to get you dressed and ready on time,” Jenny said, as she added the final pin to Andrea’s hair.

  She stepped back and looked at her aunt’s smiling face in the mirror. “I’ve never seen you look so lovely, Aunt Andrea.”

  “I feel lovely. Don makes me feel that way when he looks at me.”

  Jenny carefully picked up the tiara of woven white blossoms and satin ribbon and placed it on Andrea’s head; then she pinned it firmly to her aunt’s upswept blond hair.

  “The crowning touch. You look like a queen, Aunt Andrea. A beautiful queen.”

  “If so, then you’re a princess, honey. The golden blossoms against your auburn hair are lovely.”

  Jenny felt the rise of tears and turned away, but Andrea had already caught her reflection in the mirror. “Jenny, dear, what’s wrong?”

  Andrea’s remark had been a poignant reminder of how Rico often called her Princess. Her father had told them earlier that Rico had returned late last night, and the wedding was less than an hour away, yet he hadn’t made any attempt to come see her, to let her know he was back. Was that too much to expect?

  Perhaps she had foolishly read too much into his previous attention to her. After all, he had been ready to ride away until the Coles were killed. He had even said good-bye. So maybe she really meant nothing to him. He had merely been satisfying a man’s needs, as they said.

  Well, she had discovered a woman has needs, too. She’d been such a fool, fretting over her true feelings for him while he had made his intentions clear.

  What a stupid, naïve fool you’ve been! Well, not anymore.

  She wiped her eyes and turned around with a smile. “Nothing’s wrong, Aunt Andrea. I was just thinking of how much I’ll miss you, now that you’ll be living at the fort.”

  Andrea hugged her. “We’ll only be a few miles apart, honey. I’ll always be here for you.” Tears glistened in Andrea’s eyes, too.

  “Hey, what are we crying about?” Jenny declared. “This is a glorious day—the happiest day of your life!”

  Then they both broke into tears and hugged each other tightly.

  A knock on the door awoke Rico. He had ignored the last two times someone had knocked, but from the steady rapping on the door, it appeared whoever it was had no intention of leaving this time.

  A woman’s voice called loudly, “I know yer in there, Mr. Fraser, so haul yer skinny ass out of bed and be openin’ this door.”

  There was no mistaking the voice of Molly Shannon, the sergeant major’s wife.

  Yawning, Rico asked, “What do you want, Mrs. Shannon?”

  “I’d be thankin’ ya to be takin’ yer clothes off me hands. I’ve been totin’ them back and forth so often today, they’ll soon be worn thin.”

  Rico got out of bed and pulled on his pants, then he padded across the floor and opened the door.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Shannon,” he said to the woman who was almost as tall as he, with shoulders to match. “What are you doing with my clothes?”

  She shoved them into his hands. “I’ve been ironin’ them.”

  “They looked perfectly fine to me when I hung them up before I left.”

  “Well, maybe ya should be tellin’ that to the colonel’s wife, ’cause she’s the one who told me to do it. Faith and begorra, we’ll not have ya shamin’ the regiment at Captain Masters’s weddin’ by lookin’ like a scraggly mutt. So get yerself to a barber while there’s still time.”

  “My very intention, Mrs. Shannon. Be sure and save me a dance at the wedding.”

  A grin softened her face. “Oh, be off with ya, ya handsome dev’l. Bye, Rico.”

  “Bye, Molly. And thanks for pressing my clothes.”

  Rico hung the clothes on the wall pegs, then sat on the edge of the bed. Thoughts of Jenny had resulted in a restless night, and it had been almost dawn when he finally slept. Good thing Molly showed up when she did.

  He had anticipated stopping in to say hello to Jenny, but now he was pressed for time. Besides, she probably had her hands full with last-minute wedding preparations. After he stopped at Hardy’s office, he’d go into town, get a haircut, shave, and a hot bath, then return to the fort to change for the wedding.

  Colonel Hardy was rooting through his desk drawers when Rico entered his office. “Dammit, what did I do with it?”

  “With what, sir?” Rico asked politely.

  “With the letter I’m writing to Washington.”

  Rico reached down and picked up a sheet of paper lying on the floor. “Is this it, sir?”

  Hardy perused it quickly, then settled back in his chair. “Thanks. I don’t know what in hell I’m running here. Half my men are out searching for Slatter’s ghost, and my wife has the other half picking posies.”

  “Maybe they’ll find Slatter hiding behind one of them.”

  “Did you find any sign of him?”

  “No.”

  “But you still think Slatter’s around here.”

  “Could be I’m wrong,” Rico said.

  “Damn right you’re wrong. Between your search and the patrols I’ve sent out, every foot of this area’s been scoured. There’s not a sign or sighting of him by anyone except Callahan.”

  “The bodies of Pete and
Maggie Cole weren’t any figment of the imagination.”

  “What about those Indians Jake saw?”

  “Looked like they remained close to the spot where he saw them. Their tracks led back across the river and into the mountains.”

  “Well, in this report to Washington, I’m blaming the incident on the Apaches.”

  “It’s no skin off my ass, Colonel. By tomorrow at this time, I’ll be working for Frank Burke,” Rico said. “That’s all I have to report, and since I need to prepare for the wedding, I’ll be leaving.”

  “I hope that includes a shave and a haircut,” Hardy called after him.

  The wedding was open to any army personnel who weren’t on duty. Coupled with the civilians who were friends of the Burkes, Jenny figured there had to be at least three hundred people in attendance.

  Due to the size of the crowd and the glorious sunshine, Cynthia Hardy had instructed that the flower-adorned bower, under which the couple would exchange their vows, be moved outside in front of the small chapel.

  Jenny took a deep breath at the sight of Rico as he approached her shortly before the ceremony. Clean-shaven, his dark hair trimmed short, he looked like a refined young Spanish nobleman instead of the rugged frontier scout she had grown accustomed to. His black suit fit his tall, muscular body flawlessly, and his white shirt was a striking contrast against his olive skin.

  “You look beautiful, Princess,” he whispered.

  “I could say the same about you,” she said, her heart in her throat.

  He took her hand and led her up to the bower where Andrea and Don awaited them.

  Andrea was a vision of loveliness in her white satin gown. Her hands were shaking when Jenny handed her the bridal bouquet and kissed her on the cheek.

  Don was handsome in his dress uniform, his sword on his hip.

  Jenny stole a glance at Rico, and discovered his eyes were on her. His gaze was inscrutable before he shifted it away again.

  When the ceremony ended, Don kissed his bride and the attendees hooted and applauded.

  Throughout the reception that followed, Jenny had little opportunity to speak to Rico. When she sat down at the table next to Andrea, her father and Maude sat down beside her, and Rico sat on the other side of Don.

  Although the food was delicious, Jenny was restless through dinner and the many toasts that followed. Though she smiled and nodded on cue, her mind was on Rico’s true feelings for her—and her heart yearned for what she would never have.

  17

  Day had faded into twilight by the time most of the tables were cleared away. Kegs of beer were rolled out for the men’s refreshment, punch bowls for the women, and the band struck up the music for the dancing to begin.

  The single officers made a rush to claim Jenny as a partner, and by evening she had been passed from one pair of arms to another. Rico had not made any attempt to ask her to dance.

  She was at a loss what to think. He had greeted her warmly at the wedding ceremony. Granted, he was besieged with questions about Ben Slatter and the death of the Coles, but surely he could have slipped away for one dance?

  For the sake of her pride, she had to convince him it didn’t matter if that was how he wanted their relationship to end. Resigned to her fate, she continued to dance with one officer after another.

  When Rico finally stepped in, she said, “Why, Mr. Fraser, I thought you had left. Where have you been hiding?”

  Having been detained with endless questions all night, he had only been able to catch glimpses of Jenny flitting from one partner to another. Finally able to dance with her, he was in no mood for small talk and smoothly waltzed her across the floor and out the door.

  Small groups of guests stood outside talking among themselves, so he led her behind the chapel to a small garden for privacy.

  “Finally! It’s been killing me to watch all those other men with you all night. I can’t blame them, you’re the most beautiful woman here. But they don’t know you’ve also the bravest, and the feistiest.”

  His warm chuckle curled around her heart, a reminder that the attraction between them was far deeper than just the sexual one.

  “I owe you an apology, Rico. I thought you intended to ride away once you had your way with me.”

  “Once I had my what with you?” he asked.

  “You know…become intimate.”

  “Lady, I’m no miracle maker. I’ve discovered it’s impossible around this army post for even two dogs to become intimate with each other.”

  A burst of laughter carried back to them from afar. “See what I mean? We can’t even have a quiet talk or a dinner for two without interruption. And while I’m on that subject, need I remind you, Miss Jennifer, you came to my quarters…which, I have to say, I don’t consider intimate.”

  “Really! Well then, what do you consider it?”

  “Spooning. Maybe heavy petting.”

  “Spooning! You call being in bed with a naked woman heavy petting?”

  “That’s as far as it went.”

  “Because someone knocked on the door, Rico Fraser.”

  “And unless my memory has failed me, you also chose to kiss me in front of anyone who might have been looking at the time—your father among them!”

  A grin curled at her lips. “Well, that was supposed to be dessert.”

  Any argument, sadness, regrets, apologies, or the foolishness of wasting a day trying to ignore one another became dissipated by the friendly reminder to both of them of how much they enjoyed being together.

  Rico’s grin matched hers. “That sure as hell wasn’t the dessert I had in mind for the evening. I’d like to see you brave enough to try that kiss now when we’re alone.”

  Slipping her arms around his neck, she raised her head until their lips were barely touching. “I never thought you’d ask, Dan’l.”

  She kissed him with reckless abandon, savoring each moment. Her need for him intensified as shivers of desire raced through her.

  “That’s not how I remember it, Princess,” he murmured huskily when she broke the kiss. “Seems it was more like this.”

  He crushed her in an embrace, and his mouth covered hers with a devastating hunger and need. She returned it with all the fervor of her own craving.

  “Do you think we’d be missed if we don’t go back inside?” she murmured when breathlessness forced them apart.

  “We’ll never know if we don’t try,” he whispered.

  They hurried to his quarters hand in hand, unaware of the figure nearby in the shadows whose steady gaze followed them.

  Rico closed and bolted his door.

  “Don’t light the lamp,” he cautioned. “And if anyone knocks on this door, I’m not answering it.”

  With only silver moonlight to illuminate the darkened room, Rico drew her into his arms. Their lips met hungrily in a kiss that left her trembling.

  “Are you certain this is what you want, Princess?” he murmured. “Once we begin, there’ll be no turning back.”

  “I’ve wanted this from the moment we met,” she whispered. She took his hand and placed it on her breast. “My heart’s pounding so hard, I fear it’ll burst.”

  He kissed her again, and her head seemed to whirl.

  “Let’s get rid of this.” Hairpins and the flowered tiara fell to the floor, then he removed the remaining pins until her hair cascaded down her back. Burying his nose in its tumbled mass, he breathed in the scent of jasmine. He laced his fingers through the auburn thickness as he reclaimed her lips, sweeping the heated chamber of her mouth with darting forays of his tongue.

  The rest became an endless flow of ecstasy: his removal of her clothes, the discarding of his own. When he picked her up, when he laid her on the bed. His mouth, his tongue, his hands seeking, tantalizing, finding her lips, her breasts, her stomach, the core of her womanhood.

  His whispered words of endearment and encouragement. His groans when her hand or kisses found the sensitive parts of him. His scent, his heat, t
he weight of his strong body on hers—it all merged into the shared rapture as her body climbed toward fulfillment.

  And when that moment came—that blinding release—she cried out his name in ecstasy.

  As they lay entwined, Rico asked, “Are you sure you have no regrets, Princess?”

  “I only regret I didn’t do this sooner. It was incredible, Rico.”

  “I was only fifteen when I had my first offer of marriage. He was a rancher thirty years older than I was, and when my father refused, the man made the same offer to Andrea.

  “Also, being raised near an army post, there’s been an endless number of eager suitors since then. Many of them were handsome young officers with great futures in the army. And then there were lonely widowers looking for a wife to replace the woman they loved and lost.

  “All with different ages, different backgrounds—yet none of them held my interest or appealed to me.”

  “After a while, I began to doubt myself for refusing all the offers. But then one day, I decided to stop worrying about the dictates of society, to live my life to please myself rather than other people.”

  “So why me, Jenny?”

  “I’ve asked myself that same question a dozen times. And I think I finally know why. Fate, Rico. At the most perilous time in my life, you rode in like a young Lochinvar and swooped me up into your arms.

  “Rico, to me you are that dauntless young knight. You’re King Arthur at his Round Table, Leonidas at Thermopylae. You’re Washington crossing the Delaware or a fervent Patrick Henry crying, ‘Give me liberty, or give me death.’”

  She raised her hand to his cheek in a tender caress. “You’re my hero, my Daniel Boone, Rico,” she murmured softly. “Haven’t you realized that?”

  “Princess, there’s nothing unique about me. You’re looking at heroes every time the cavalry puts on their uniforms and ride out in pursuit of marauding Indians. Whenever a lawman faces down a gunman. Or a settler and his wife raise a barn in the wilderness.