Harlequin Historical September 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: The Lone SheriffThe Gentleman RogueNever Trust a Rebel

by Lynna Banning

  Jericho pulled his gaze away from the scene rolling by outside the window. “Yeah?”

  “What if the gang really does show up today?”

  “They won’t. Their snitch in town hasn’t had enough time to ride out to wherever Tucker’s camp is now and tip them off. But they’ll know for sure about our next fake shipment, and that’s when they’ll come runnin’.”

  And Jericho swore he’d be there to capture them. Without Maddie, if he could figure out how to manage it.

  Maddie patted her mouth with a napkin. “I have been trying to identify who exactly is tipping Tucker off.”

  Jericho reached into the wicker basket for another biscuit. “Relax, Mrs. Detective. Whoever it is should be runnin’ his horse into a lather right now, trying to reach Tucker. We’re perfectly safe.”

  “Oh, good. Jericho, when we get to Portland, could we...? I mean, I would so much like to visit Sundae again.”

  Jericho stared at her. “That palomino you fell in love with? Sure, I guess so.”

  And then another thought hit him and he sat straight up in his seat as if a ball of lightning had rolled onto his lap. What happened after that? She’d visit her horse, and then what? That left a whole evening, and another long night, alone with Maddie.

  Under his shirt collar, Jericho began to sweat. He knew only one thing. No way in hell were they going to share a hotel room like they had before.

  * * *

  “Why, Mr. and Mrs. Silver,” the hotel clerk said with a smile on his round, shiny face. “How nice to see you again.”

  Jericho opened his mouth to explain, but the man plunged on. “Good time to visit, folks, it being Fourth of July and all. City’s got lotsa things planned, big picnic and a band concert, fireworks in the evening, and—”

  “We would like two separate rooms,” Maddie interrupted.

  “How’s that again? Two rooms?” The clerk’s wiry red eyebrows went up, then settled into a frown. “Oh, I see,” he said, leaning toward Jericho. “Little lady’s upset, is she?”

  “No, the ‘little lady’ is not upset,” Maddie said through clenched teeth. “It’s just that we are not really—”

  “Don’t make no nevermind, Mrs. Silver. Hotels are all full up anyway. Every hotel in town’s busting its seams, so it’s one room or noth—”

  “Fine,” Jericho interrupted. “Let’s have the key.”

  Maddie followed him up the carpeted staircase with an odd sense of elation. She knew it was purely scandalous to share a room with the sheriff again, but no one would ever know.

  Besides, at the moment she did not care. She was hot and stiff from sitting on the train for six long hours, and what she cared about at this moment was having a bath and a big steak dinner.

  After all, they had shared a room the last time they were in Portland. This would be no different.

  Oh, yes, it would.

  The last time they were in Portland was before Jericho had kissed her. Whether he remembered doing so or not did not matter; that kiss had changed things between them. She knew it as surely as cats had kittens. And he knew it, too. She could tell by the way he avoided her eyes.

  Jericho unlocked the hotel room door and she stepped inside. Heavens, it was the same room they had shared before. The same window overlooking the street below, the same washstand, the same two beds, but now, oh, heavens! The beds had been shoved together in the center of the room.

  “You want a bath brought up?”

  “What? Oh, a bath. Yes, I would like a bath.” But good gracious, she could not bathe with him in the room.

  “Jericho, do you not have something you need to do in Portland?”

  His dark eyebrows rose, but his mouth twitched. “Do?”

  “Yes, ‘do.’ You know, visit the livery stable or the mercantile or...something.”

  “Nope,” he said with a grin. “Can’t think of a thing.”

  “But, well, then could you—”

  “Oh, sure. I’ll order a bath for you on my way out.”

  He laughed on his way to the door.

  Unless she was very much mistaken, he had been teasing her. Imagine, short-spoken, no-nonsense Sheriff Silver with a sense of humor.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Barber shop next door to the hotel.”

  “Jericho?”

  He still would not meet her gaze. “Yeah?”

  “After supper, could I...could we...visit Sundae?”

  Jericho had to laugh. Here they were, holed up together in a compromising situation, and she wanted to visit a horse? As long as he lived, he’d never understand this woman.

  “Could we?” she persisted.

  He did look at her, then. Straight into her clear green eyes, and the longing he saw in their depths made his gut clench. “We can sure as hell try, Maddie.”

  All the way down the stairs he shook his head in disbelief. Guess it was plain damn stupid of him to worry about sharing a room with Mrs. Detective; she was more interested in a palomino mare than she was in him.

  After supper in the hotel dining room, they set out on foot for the carnival grounds where the Fourth of July fireworks display would be held. The horse corral would be in the field next to the grounds.

  The evening was balmy, the stars overhead like tiny diamonds tossed at random across the purple-black night sky. Jericho inhaled the spicy-sweet scent of roses and felt a dart of pain under his breastbone. Little Bear had loved the roses in the orphanage garden. He wondered if they were still there.

  Instantly he clamped his teeth together. That place held nothing but bad memories and the feeling of loneliness and not belonging that he’d tried to shake for twenty years. No way in hell did he want to see the place, or its rose garden, ever again.

  In silence he kept pace with Maddie along streets lined with stately homes behind intricate black wrought-iron fences. They walked four blocks in silence before Maddie spoke.

  “These houses remind me of where I grew up.”

  “Pretty fancy,” Jericho commented.

  “Oh, not so fancy inside. Our house had only five bedrooms.”

  Jericho said nothing. Jupiter, only five bedrooms? The difference between his life and Maddie’s was like tumbleweeds in a fancy room with velvet drapes.

  He tried to think of something else, but all kinds of thoughts kept bumping their ugly heads into his brain. Five bedrooms!

  Ah, hell, maybe he shouldn’t think so much.

  He liked this woman. He liked her better than he’d liked any female he’d ever known, except maybe for Little Bear.

  “Jericho? The orphanage you were raised in was here in Portland, was it not?”

  “Yeah,” he said shortly.

  “What was it like, really?”

  His belly tightened. “Strict,” he shot back. “Cold. Bad food. As different from houses like these—” he gestured at the huge brick mansion they were passing “—as potatoes from ripe peaches.” He didn’t want to go on.

  “You were not happy there?”

  “Not one damn day.”

  “I was not happy in my father and mother’s house, either.”

  That surprised him. She’d probably had everything a kid could want, friends, music lessons, parties.

  “Really,” he said drily.

  “Really,” she echoed. She hesitated. “I was...lonely.”

  Oh, sure she was. The poor little rich girl with too many dresses. They moved on without talking until he heard her voice again.

  “Jericho, you did not like me when I came to Smoke River, did you?”

  “You’re right, I didn’t.” He couldn’t think of another word to add, so he snapped his jaw shut and kept walking.

  “But we’ve been through a terrible ordeal t
ogether, both of us getting shot, I mean.”

  “Yeah, what of it?”

  “Then we are friends now, are we not?”

  His throat closed. Friends? He’d tried hard not to think too much about their relationship, but he knew damn well they were more than friends. How much more, he couldn’t bring himself to consider.

  “Yeah, I guess we’re friends.”

  She gave a little skip, which made him laugh. “You cannot imagine how glad that makes me.”

  “Why?” He almost choked on the question.

  “Well, I...I think quite highly of you.”

  “I think highly of you, too, Maddie.” He kept his voice steady, but his insides were flipping like Mexican jumping beans.

  She scooted out in front and spun to face him. “You do? Really?” She walked backward until she came to a dip in the sidewalk and her balance wavered. He snaked a hand to her shoulder to steady her.

  Abruptly she halted. Barely conscious of what he was doing, Jericho closed his fingers on her other shoulder. She smiled up at him.

  For the first time in a bunch of hours he let himself look directly into her eyes. Big mistake. He wanted to pull her close, wrap his arms around her and hold on. Wanted to feel her heart hammer against his.

  What the hell was the matter with him?

  He blew out a lungful of air. Nothing was the matter. He simply wanted to kiss her. He was a man and she was a woman and he wanted to kiss her. He wanted to close his eyes and breathe in her lavender scent, let it sweep him off to that muddled, happy state he remembered from when he’d kissed her before.

  “Maddie...”

  “Oh, look! There’s the gypsy fortune-teller! The horse corral is right behind her tent. Come on.” She grabbed his hand and tugged him past the gaudy canvas, and then she stopped dead. What had been the horse corral was nothing but an empty field with a split-rail fence running around it.

  “They’re gone,” she moaned. “The horses are gone. Sundae is gone.”

  She stood staring at the space, shaking her head in disbelief. “Sundae is gone,” she said again. This time her voice broke.

  His stomach turned over. “Probably some rancher from hereabouts had loaned his stock to the carnival folks and...”

  She nodded and sniffled back tears. “Of course. I sh-should have thought of that, but truly I did not w-want to.”

  Damn. He’d give anything if she wouldn’t cry; it did funny things to his insides.

  “Maddie, look, the ice-cream stand’s still there. Want an ice-cream cone?”

  “Y-yes,” she said slowly. “No. Oh, I don’t know.”

  He took her hand and drew her to the ice-cream vendor’s stall. She stood in front of the man for a long time and finally ordered a double strawberry cone.

  He couldn’t watch her lick it. Her little pink tongue flicking in and out gave him the worst hard-on he’d had in years.

  All the way back to the hotel he struggled to keep his eyes on the sidewalk and not on her mouth, and when she finally crunched up the last of the crisp wafer he let out a sigh of relief.

  Then he spent eight blocks trying like hell not to notice the smear of pink ice cream on her lower lip.

  He groaned out loud. Sleeping in the same room with Maddie was the worst idea he’d ever had in his life.

  He wanted to touch her so bad he ached.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The instant Jericho puffed out the lantern on his nightstand, Maddie stripped down to her camisole and petticoats and crawled between the cool sheets. She heard Jericho thump off his boots and maybe his shirt and jeans; she could not be sure in the dark, and anyway, she knew she should not be paying attention to what clothes he had on. Or off.

  Her body felt heavy and an ache was beginning behind her eyes. She rolled onto her side, then flopped onto her other side and closed her eyes. Or tried to. Her lids kept popping open every time Jericho stirred.

  Why was she not sleeping? Oh, what did it matter? He lay quietly, as if he hadn’t a care in the world, while she felt more restless and keyed up than she had since she was a girl performing at one of her piano recitals.

  This was not like the excitement of starting a new assignment for Mr. Pinkerton, or even the bubbly pride she felt after successfully bringing in evidence for the capture of a wanted man. Her brain told her everything was going well; her nerves were signaling something else. Nothing was working out as she’d expected.

  Her beautiful mare, Sundae, was gone and Jericho was being impossible. Clearly he did not want her along on this mission—or any mission. She felt useless and confused and not valued.

  She didn’t belong out here in the West. She didn’t understand the blunt speech, the brusque manners, the rough-and-tumble ways of everyone she came in contact with. Even Mr. Warriner at the bank had treated her with polite disregard. She’d had to pound her gloved fist on his desk to get him to listen to her ideas.

  Why, why had Mr. Pinkerton sent her out here to this godforsaken part of the country? He’d said he wanted to “broaden her experience,” but he must have known she wouldn’t fit in, not in a million years. Except for that lovely palomino horse she’d befriended, not one living creature out here cared about her.

  Even Jericho. That kiss he’d given her had meant nothing. He hadn’t mentioned it. Maybe he didn’t even remember it. True, he had been burning with fever at the time, but even so, sheriffs did not kiss their agents every day of the week. Or did they? Maybe this sheriff did and then just forgot about it. About her.

  And that hurt!

  She flipped over onto her other side and tried to think clearly. Could this uneasiness be because of that maddening man in the next bed?

  The edgy fluttering inside her was unbearable. She slipped out from under the sheet, draped the quilt around her bare shoulders, and tiptoed to the window.

  It was long past midnight; the entire city was asleep.

  Nothing moved on the street below, and only shadows marked the building entrances. All at once she wanted to smell the clean, fresh air outside.

  Releasing the catch lock, she quietly slid the sash up until the warm night air wafted against her face. Somewhere near the hotel a town clock tolled three times and then fell silent.

  She wedged her hip onto the windowsill and leaned out, drinking in the scent of roses from the city park on the next corner. Above her, millions of stars shone in a sky so black it looked like crushed velvet. It was so vast and beautiful it made her want to cry. The whole world was asleep but for her.

  “Maddie?” a raspy voice spoke from the bed behind her. “What are you doing sitting in the window?”

  “Just...thinking about things.”

  “What things?” He sounded wide-awake now.

  Before she could answer he was standing behind her, so close she could feel the warmth of his body. “What things?” he repeated.

  “Oh, odd things. Like why I am feeling empty inside when I ate a big steak for supper and a strawberry ice-cream cone before bed.”

  “Maybe you’re still hungry?”

  She ignored the question. She was hungry, but not for food. The hollow sensation yawning in her belly was for something else entirely. Something she was afraid to admit to herself.

  “Just look, Jericho. The stars are so far away, so beautiful. They make me think about...about things I don’t want to think about.” About how lonely her life was, despite the excitement of life in Chicago, despite even her adventurous missions for Mr. Pinkerton.

  He said nothing.

  “Jericho, do you ever wonder what life is really all about?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “I wonder, too. Right now I wonder what my own life is all about.”

  He gave a soft laugh. “You’re a good detective, Maddie. How
come you haven’t figured that out?”

  “I do not know,” she said on a sigh. “I wonder sometimes if being a detective is enough to make my existence matter.”

  She tipped her head up to gaze at the stars. “We are such tiny insignificant beings, really. What difference could one little life make?”

  His voice was suddenly low and tense. “You think like this a lot?”

  She flinched as if he had poked at her spine. “No. I have never thought about these things before.”

  “Why tonight, Maddie? Maybe it has something to do with finding out that Sundae was gone?”

  “Oh.” She said nothing for a full minute, and then she swiped her palm across her cheeks.

  Jericho stepped in close and touched her shoulder.

  Maddie gave a little hiccup and turned her face into his chest. “I know she’s just a horse, but she was so strong and beautiful and she, well, she seemed to like me.”

  Her cheek was wet against his skin, but he didn’t give a damn.

  “Oh, it isn’t about Sundae, I guess.” She sniffled. “It’s— I don’t know what it is. The stars, maybe.”

  Jericho drew in a soft breath. “Yeah, maybe. I know how they make me feel.”

  “How?” Her voice sounded wobbly.

  “Lonely,” he answered after a long moment. “I’ve never said that to anybody before.” He swallowed and looked away. Watching her trying not to cry made him hurt inside.

  Without thinking, he wrapped his arms around her. Big mistake. The feel of her frame trembling against his drove the last sensible thought from his head. He bent and found her mouth.

  For an instant she went absolutely still, and then she reached up to fold her arms about his neck. God help him, he’d never felt anything so wonderful in his entire life.

  Her lips moved under his and he tasted salty tears and strawberries. He broke away, gulped a breath, and kissed her again. This time she kissed him back, tentative at first, almost shy, and then with an intensity that sent his brain reeling.

  When she moaned, he lifted his head. “I’ve waited days and days for you to kiss me again,” she whispered.