Virgin Fire

by Elizabeth Chadwick

  "I don't want to cause trouble between them."

  "Oh, Jess, you're such a sweet thing.” His arms tightened. “You don't deserve to be thrown in among the lions, and I include myself among them, honey,” he admitted, tipping her chin up with one finger.

  She tried to pull away, but Travis held on.

  "I haven't had a cigar all day.” He was smiling whimsically. “Decided this morning I couldn't wait till Saturday to see you, and I didn't want to come by smelling bad."

  "Well, that's one more day you managed to survive without blowing yourself up at the well head,” she mumbled, feeling warm and weak in the circle of his arms.

  "If it matters to you, I'll quit smoking entirely,” he murmured and bent his head slowly toward her mouth, giving her the opportunity to withdraw.

  She didn't. By that time she yearned to feel the exciting pressure of his lips again and the hot certainty of his passion, which was the one thing she had never doubted in their relationship. Travis had continued to want her since the first time they'd made love, just as she continued to want him, more tonight than ever before. She reveled in the rough texture of his tongue when she allowed him access. In a whirl of confused excitement, his hands seemed to be everywhere, touching her back and breasts, loosening her clothes and his own until she found herself astride him, still on the straight chair in her kitchen, gasping as she reacted explosively to his initial entrance.

  "Too long,” he muttered. “I don't have any control when I can't have you in my bed all the time.” He had followed her immediately over the peak. “But I'll do better.” Travis lifted her with him as he rose and pushed their clothing carelessly into some semblance of order, then swung her up into his arms. “Which door to the bedroom?"

  "We shouldn't."

  "Yes, we damned well should, Jessica.” He chose a door and carried her through to what was not actually her room. There were no sheets or blankets on that bed, but with Travis disrobing her, following his careful fingers with maddening lips, Jessica hadn't the breath or the desire to protest further or point out his mistake.

  When he had unbuttoned her shirtwaist, brushing his fingertips repeatedly over her nipples as he did so, and disposed of her corset and camisole, he rubbed and rolled the tender, rosy nubs to aching excitement before unbuttoning her skirt and petticoat and dropping them to the floor. Since her drawers had been left in the kitchen, she was bare and vulnerable when, on his knees, he clasped her waist and buried his lips and tongue in her navel, then at the juncture of her thighs. Jessica's knees had begun to wobble and the moans to well in her throat when he took pity and lifted her to the bed and covered her.

  A tiny whimper escaped from her arched throat as he took her once more, and he whispered, “We're all alone, sweetheart. We've no one to please but ourselves, and there'll be no one to complain in the morning."

  Then he plunged into the warm haven of her body and drove a cry of ecstasy from her that she had never been able to release before. Their lovemaking was fierce and anguished, prolonged to a point so savage and tender that Jessica sometimes found herself clinging precariously to consciousness, at other times painfully sensitive to each sensation and wildly exultant with the knowledge that she was driving Travis into excesses of feeling well beyond his own control.

  They so exhausted one another that Rainee was in the house the next morning before Jessica even thought of how embarrassed she'd feel to be discovered by her housekeeper in the arms of a man never seen there before. Travis was quite unruffled. He introduced himself, ate a huge breakfast cooked by the housekeeper, kissed Jessica lingeringly, and went off, humming exuberantly, to his latest derrick.

  Once he was out the door, Rainee gave Jessica a straight look and said, “Taking in strange man dangerous. Not like you."

  "He's my husband,” Jessica mumbled.

  "Oh?” Rainee's brows rose. “Why husband not live here?"

  "Because we're estranged."

  "Estranged?” Rainee frowned at the unfamiliar word. “Now estranged husband move clothes into Jessica's lodge?"

  "No,” said Jessica.

  "Why not? You need man. He looks like good one."

  Jessica didn't know what to say. She could explain why Travis was not a good man, but then how could she explain why she had let him back into her bed? How could she explain that to herself, much less Rainee? Well, she'd have to give it some thought, since she'd need a defense by nightfall. Travis would be back, of that she was sure, and in the meantime she had business to conduct. Jessica intended to take Travis's advice by finding out exactly what her grandfather's land was worth, and that was what she'd charge Penelope, not a penny less. The Great Cannibal Owl could try to eat up someone else's profits; Jessica intended to protect her own.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  "I'm afraid you misunderstood, Travis,” said Jessica when he appeared at her door that evening.

  "Honey, it would be hard to misunderstand what happened between us last night."

  "True,” she agreed, and Travis smiled at her. “You just misunderstood what it meant."

  He felt his optimism begin to dissipate. Jessica was too cool. She hardly seemed the same woman who had moaned in his arms the night before. He had been distracted by the memory all day. Men from two different crews remarked on his carelessness, which made him uneasy. A driller who valued his hide kept his mind on his business when he was working in the oil fields. “Maybe you'd better tell me, Jess,” he said. What the hell could it have meant? She still loved him, that's what; she was ready to take him back.

  "Pleasure,” said Jessica. “I enjoy your—ah—attentions, and since we are married, for all I meant little or nothing to you when you proposed to me—"

  "Jess, that's not—"

  "—relevant?” she interrupted sweetly. “Well, perhaps not, but misunderstandings do happen. I misunderstood the nature of your interest in me initially, and you misunderstood mine last night. Just because I enjoyed your visit doesn't mean you can move in with me, Travis. Goodness, I'd have to be on guard all the time.” She shook her head, as if dismayed at the toll such vigilance would take. “I guess what it amounts to is that you used me initially; last night I returned the favor. And after all, why not? As I said, we are married—more or less."

  The idea that a woman, particularly Jessica, who had been an innocent when he first married her, would use him for physical satisfaction seemed quite alien to Travis, and yet, as she said, why not? He'd taught her to enjoy the physical pleasures; she was just profiting from the lesson—and getting back at him in the bargain. “I guess if being used is all I'm allowed for now,” he replied, trying to control his temper and salvage what he could from the situation, “I'll have to be happy with that, won't I? Are you in the mood tonight, or do I have to wait for Saturday?"

  "I didn't say I wanted you on a regular basis,” she snapped.

  "Now you misunderstand, honey. I didn't mean just sex. We made a deal. Your bicycle; my bath. See you Saturday."

  Jessica glared after him as he jumped off her porch. When she had plotted her defense, she had expected him to be at least somewhat offended, maybe even a little embarrassed or hurt at the idea that she viewed him as a sort of male sporting lady. Instead he'd hardly blinked an eye. Men! What pigs they were! It was just as that article in Vogue had said; they didn't know a thing about romantic love.

  Should she let him in Saturday? After all, last night had been ... Jessica blushed at her own thoughts and sulkily headed into her house, telling herself she had better things to think about than Travis Parnell. Tomorrow she would visit the Crosby to see what offers she got on the land Penelope wanted. How furious Penelope would be if she knew Travis had spent the night. Too bad, thought Jessica angrily. She couldn't stand either of them.

  Travis, for his part, was still trying to deal with his own amazement as he mounted his horse and set out for Calder Avenue. The little devil, he thought admiringly. Could she have decided she needed some loving and used him to g
et it? If so, she'd sure as hell better not consider getting it elsewhere.

  Surprised, Travis pulled the horse up. Was he jealous? He'd never been jealous of a woman before, but then he'd never felt about any other woman the way he felt about Jessie. Travis wished that he could tell her, but she was still too angry. She'd never believe him. In fact, knowing Jessica, he assumed that any declarations of love from him at this point would only increase her distrust.

  But in the meantime, he worried about her. This was a rough town for a girl on her own, a girl raised mostly in a fancy, sheltered boarding school. He didn't know what he'd do if anything bad happened to Jessica. She'd have been safe at home under Anne Harte's protective wing if it weren't for him. But if she was safe in Weatherford, he'd have no chance to win her back. Travis groaned. If only she'd forgive him so they could get on with their lives.

  "She insists on cash,” said Penelope.

  "I don't have it,” Hugh muttered.

  "But we can't pass up this opportunity. People are making millions. They buy the land one day and sell it for twice as much the next. Even at the price she's asking, in only a few months we'd be millionaires—many times over. Think of it, Hugh. Rich beyond our wildest dreams."

  Hugh Gresham, who had taken terrible chances to save his bank by buying Justin Harte's shares, wanted to invest in the Spindletop land as much as Penelope did. He too saw it as a chance to be wonderfully rich, rich at the expense of his father-in-law, who had always refused to trust him. However, Hugh saw no way to get the cash they'd need. He was being watched. He couldn't afford to take chances. He couldn't even leave town, because he had to be on hand to juggle the books when necessary and to take advantage of his connection with Cassidy when the opportunity arose.

  "The bank is full of money,” said Penelope.

  "It's not ours."

  "Borrow it. You've done it before, and we'll have it back in the accounts before anyone misses it."

  "Penelope, for God's sake, I could be ruined. I'd—we'd—"

  "Two months, Hugh. No one would ever know."

  Travis awoke feeling gloomy and resentful. Damn her. She still didn't trust him. Within two hours his mood improved because a gusher came in on his own land, drenching him and his crew in black-green muck and bringing the usual crowd of excited gawkers. He took the strike as a good omen; most of the wells he drilled, those done on sites chosen by the owners or leasers, turned up dry holes. His own hadn't; still, given the price of oil, which was less per barrel than a bottle of water, he thought he'd sell the new well to someone with more money than sense. There were plenty of those around.

  "Grandfather's here,” said Jessica when Travis arrived for his Saturday bath.

  Travis scowled; he'd been planning a passionate night of being used as the object of Jessica's pleasure. An evening of conversation with Oliver Duplessis might be interesting, but it wasn't what he'd had in mind. Did the old man plan to stay at the house with Jessica? Travis certainly hoped not.

  "My boy,” said Oliver expansively, “why haven't you and my granddaughter made up your differences?"

  "I'm certainly willing,” said Travis. Maybe Oliver's visit wasn't such a bad idea.

  "I'd like to see some great-grandchildren before I die,” boomed the old man.

  Travis gave Jessica a long look, thinking of the time when he'd imagined her to be with child. How happy he'd been at the thought. Unfortunately, he'd been wrong about that, just as he'd been wrong to think he could keep his deception from her. He sighed, wondering if he'd ever win her back, if they'd ever have a child together.

  Jessica turned away when she heard her grandfather's words. She had been reading an article by Dr. D. Abraham Jacob, who recommended what he called “scientific birth control.” Jessica had decided that if she were so foolish as to give in again to her embarrassing passion for Travis, at least she'd better be sure not to get herself trapped by pregnancy. Unfortunately, Dr. D. Abraham Jacob hadn't been specific about how one went about practicing “scientific birth control."

  "All my inquiries lead me to believe that your advice to hold onto my land here was very good,” Oliver continued.

  "Has Jessica told you that your daughter wants to buy it?” Travis asked.

  "Yes,” said Oliver, “and I've told her to let Penelope have it at ten percent above market value."

  "But, Grandfather, if Travis is right, Mother and Hugh stand to lose huge amounts of money."

  "I don't doubt Travis is right, which means we want to be out of the market before the end of May. Let's see; it's the end of April now; if Penelope hasn't returned with the money by, say, the fifteenth, sell at the best price you can get."

  "But not on the hill,” Travis warned. “Those prices will skyrocket once everyone realizes how many dry holes there actually are elsewhere. I've drilled dozens myself. You can see the boiler smoke everywhere across the plain."

  "Mother's going to be furious if she takes a loss,” Jessica fretted.

  Shrugging, Oliver snapped, “You warned her, didn't you? My daughter always was headstrong—not to mention greedy. She thinks she and Hugh are going to reap a profit from my foresight. When she loses, she'll learn a valuable lesson about the pitfalls of greed."

  Jessica was surprised at how cold her grandfather sounded.

  Travis listened with interest. What he had hoped for seemed to be happening. Oliver was turning away from his daughter and toward his granddaughter. Good. Jessica deserved the love and support of someone in her family. She had had it from Cassandra Harte, but Cassandra was dead. Oliver would make a good substitute. He was a gruff old man, not outwardly affectionate, but his good opinion was something to be valued, and Jessica had earned it, a fact she could be proud of. As for Penelope, if she became estranged from her father and his considerable fortune, good. Travis would be happy for her.

  "And what do you plan to do with the land on Spindletop?” asked her grandfather.

  Jessica, who had been clearing away the remains of dinner, paused and looked thoughtful. “I thought I might wait for a few more gushers to come in, then drill myself."

  Both her grandfather and Travis frowned, for they knew that it was the landowners, not the operators, who were making money.

  "Got oil fever, do you?” asked Oliver dryly.

  "Heavens, no. I hate the idea of a derrick in my yard."

  "So do I,” said Travis. “An oil well's damned dangerous. I don't want you—"

  "Who are you to talk?” she interrupted. “You're always around them."

  "Now, now, children,” Oliver intervened with a smug grin. “I'm pleased to see that you're concerned about each other—” they both gave him surprised looks “—but we're talking business. I want to hear Jessica's plans."

  "If I strike oil on your hill land, Grandfather,” Jessica continued, giving Travis a haughty what-business-is-it-of-yours look, “and the chances are good, according to Travis, that I will, then I'll probably sell the well to someone else. Goodness, a proven producer should bring lots of money. Why are you grinning, Travis?"

  "Because you're absolutely right, sweetheart, and a man likes to know he's got a real smart wife."

  Jessica flushed with pleasure, although he was wrong; most men would be furious to think they had smart wives, unless the wives kept that intelligence well hidden. Damn Travis Parnell anyway. Just when she thought she'd got the best of him, he said something that turned her stupid heart right over.

  "Well, anyway,” she mumbled, “if I can bring a producing well in and sell it at an absolutely sinful price, I'll cut the rest of the hill land up into the smallest parcels anyone can get a derrick on and sell or lease that too."

  Oliver roared with laughter. “Girl, you're worth your weight in gold."

  "I'm glad you think so, Grandfather,” she replied promptly, “because from now on I want to work on commission."

  "Do you now?” The old man sank his bulldog chin down onto his chest, creating several hundred more wrinkles.


  "Yes,” she said somewhat belligerently.

  "You have that much confidence in yourself?"

  "Yes.” Jessica wondered if she was allowing herself to be prodded by the resentment she had felt when Penelope intimated that she was incompetent.

  "Good,” said the old man. “We'll draw up a contract."

  "Wait a minute,” Travis objected. “I don't want her living in the middle of a forest of oil derricks. Have you ever seen an oil-field fire?"

  The two looked at him as if he were some interloper trying to interfere in matters that didn't concern him. “If you want to decide where she lives, boy,” said Oliver, “you'll have to talk her into living with you."

  Jessica scowled. “Isn't it time you were getting back to Beaumont, Travis?” she asked. “I'll show you to the door."

  With her hands folded demurely at her waist and her mouth set in the gracious lines the students had practiced at her school, Jessica glided through the sitting room ahead of her fuming husband. “Good night, Travis,” she murmured, and she opened the door for him.

  Travis grasped her wrist and yanked her out on the porch, pinning her between his own aroused body and the clapboard wall. Abandoning the lady-of-the-manor act, Jessica responded by pressing her hips forward and digging her fingers painfully into the hard muscles of his back as she lifted her mouth hungrily to his. When they broke apart, she murmured, “So nice of you to come by, Travis."

  "When's Oliver leaving?” Travis snarled.

  "Oh, Monday or Tuesday, I believe.” Jessica leaned her head back against the wall, breasts rising in quick, shallow breaths.

  "I'll be by then."

  "That wasn't our agreement."

  "I missed my bath.” He had cupped two large hands over her bottom and lifted her against him. “My bath and more important things."

  "Nothing of real importance,” she murmured, airily deceitful. Her loins were melting with desire.

  "Nothing important? Jessica, honey, about two more minutes of this, and I could take you right here against the wall with your grandfather in there wondering where the hell you were. Oh, and there's no way I'm going to let you live out here by yourself surrounded with derricks. There are a thousand dangerous things that could go wrong."