by Diana Palmer
Her pulse raced at the look in his eyes. She didn't understand what was happening. It frightened her.
He put a big, lean hand over hers where it rested on her stomach over the covers.
"Most married people get off to a rocky start," he said. "We didn't have the beginning I'd have liked. But we'll put it all right in time."
"You don't want to marry me," she said sadly.
He brought her hand, palm up, to his lips and kissed it gently. "I don't want to marry anyone," he said honestly. "But I'm thirty. It's time I thought of settling down."
"I keep forgetting that you're older than Quinn, because you were at college together."
"I was the oldest in my graduating class. I got a late start, but I began to realize that education can make a difference in a man's fortunes." He smoothed her hand against his rough, lean cheek. "The future is going to require educated men. We have plenty of opportunity to grow out here, but it has to be planned growth, the right kind of growth. We've got to plan on more than cattle and crops to take us into the twentieth century."
"A prediction?"
"Of sorts." He kissed her palm again and laid her hand back down. "I'm drunk, Amy," he said on a roughly expelled breath.
"Yes, I think you are, a little," she replied smiling. "Do go to bed and get some rest."
His pale eyes searched over her face on the pillow, lingering on her soft pink mouth. "Darcy can't bear to have me touch her," he said. "This afternoon, when I held you, you pushed me away as if I disgusted you."
She stiffened under the covers. "I do not like the way you make me feel when you touch me," she said evasively.
One dark eyebrow lifted. "Would you care to explain what you mean?"
"Not really," she replied, embarrassed.
But even in his intoxicated state, her meaning got through to him. He stared at her and began to smile. "Well."
"Don't let it go to your head," she said haughtily. "I'm certain that any man with your experience could produce the same effect."
"That's something you won't have time to find out," he assured her. "You'll be married before you know it. And there won't be even the hint of another man in your life."
"That sounds vaguely like a threat."
"You may take it as exactly that." His eyes were slow and bold on her figure, outlined by the heavy covers. "You are mine. I don't intend sharing you, ever."
"I am not property!"
He pursed his lips. "Indeed?"
Her eyes flashed. "And I don't intend to spend our married life being told every move to make by you!"
He leaned over her, resting his weight on the lean hands at either side of her head. "In some ways, you will," he threatened softly. "You know very little about how to please a man yet."
She gasped with outraged modesty, and he took the soft sound into his mouth in a kiss that was warm and slow and drugging. She lay helpless beneath the delicate teasing of his lips as they touched and lifted, probed and withdrew. It was like fencing, she thought dizzily as the feeling grew to frightening depth. Her hand went up to his chest, protesting weakly, only to spur memories of how he felt without the shirt covering it.
"We might have been made for each other, in this way," he breathed into her parted mouth. "Each time I kiss you, the feelings we share ignite me."
"You should not"
"Try to sound more convincing, Amy," he teased, and very quickly the teasing stopped as he brought his mouth down with increasing insistence and hunger.
She reached up to hold him, drawing him down to her, while his mouth made a mockery of her earlier protest.
Neither of them heard the door open or a throat being cleared very loudly. Enid gave up and slammed the door. Hard.
They jumped, jerking apart. King looked shaken, and Amelia's face blushed like a rose. She tugged the covers up to her chin and sat up in bed, her eyes like saucers.
"How very guilty you both look," Enid murmured wickedly. "I suppose there is a very reasonable explanation?"
"Of a certainty," King drawled. "May I have five minutes to think up one?"
"Take ten," his mother said generously. "It will take me that long to get the biscuits finished."
He groaned as he got up, putting a hand to his temple.
"You reek of whiskey," Enid complained, wrinkling her nose. "I wonder that Amelia could endure you at such close range."
Amelia flushed, because she hadn't even noticed the taste of whiskey in his mouth, she'd been so hungry for him.
"I had a drink or two," King said.
"You had a bottle or two," his mother retorted. "Shame on you!"
"She drove me to it," he said, nodding toward Amelia. "She keeps refusing to marry me."
"Perhaps a reluctant proposal was not enough to win her," Enid replied.
He stared at Amelia and smiled slowly. "Then I must exert myself and mount a convincing campaign for her hand."
"A wise idea," his mother agreed.
"He is a reluctant bridegroom," Amelia protested. "It's hardly fair to land him with a wife he doesn't want!"
"Forgive me, Amelia, but from what I just saw it's very difficult to believe that."
"I agree," King nodded, enjoying Amelia's discomfort.
"You can be quiet," Amelia told King. "You did nothing but bad-mouth me from the day I arrived, and now you want to marry me?"
"But that was before you threw the carafe at me," he pointed out. His lips drew up in a slow, wicked smile. "I much prefer a ruffled wren to a tame house sparrow."
"Do go," Enid said, pushing her son toward the door. "All this is highly unconventional. You should not be in Amelia's bedroom with her in her nightclothes and no chaperone."
"How could I possibly kiss her with a chaperone in residence?" he asked reasonably.
Enid closed the door on him. She glanced at Amelia, who looked more alive and radiant than Enid had ever seen her.
"I did not realize that he had a conscience," Amelia had to confess.
"Of course he does. But he is adept at hiding his deepest feelings. That has been true since his engagement to Alice."
Amelia got out of bed. "He must have loved her very much," she said miserably.
Enid glanced at her warily. "He thought he did."
"It would have been tragic for him to lose her in such a violent way. "
"Indeed it was. He went off on a hunting trip and stayed away for three weeks after it happened." Enid turned to the younger woman. "But she would not have made him happy, Amelia. She did not love him any more than Darcy does. King has become adept at choosing the wrong woman. Until now," she added quietly.
"But he didn't choose me," Amelia reminded her. "And he doesn't want me, except well, perhaps in one way. It will not be a good marriage."
"You must make it one, then," the older woman said softly. "He is not a heartless man, and he is very much attracted to you. Do not give up on him now, Amelia."
Fortunately, Enid didn't know the reason they had to get married, and Amelia couldn't bring herself to admit it. She nodded, hoping that it would all come right, as King had said it would.
Quinn sat at his desk in the Ranger office, pondering the reward poster on Rodriguez that he was obliged to post. It was a good likeness of the bandit. Too good.
He'd tried to pretend that he didn't know where Rodriguez was, that he didn't have to tell anyone he'd seen him. But the badge was wearing a hole in his shirt. He had taken a solemn vow to uphold the law. Rodriguez had broken it. He had to do his job, no matter what the personal cost to himself. He would lose Maria before he even had her. But that was fate, perhaps.
He buckled on his gun belt. He could do it alone. He had to, because to involve other Rangers might endanger Maria and Juliano, not to mention the children in the camp. He could manage.
"Where are you off to?" his captain asked.
"Mexico. To bring in Rodriguez."
"You found him?" the short, older man asked.
He nodded. "But I di
dn't know it until this poster came in," he prevaricated. "When I was in Del Rio, I saw this man."
"Wait a minute, and I'll get some of the other men"
"I can do this on my own, Captain," Quinn said quietly. "There are some children with him. I don't want to put them at risk by taking a large contingent. Will you trust me to do it, my way?"
Quinn had been with the Rangers for almost two years, and Captain Baylor knew him very well. If Quinn gave his word, it was worth gold.
"All right. Be careful."
"I will, sir."
Quinn left with a leaden heart, on his way to Sonora to betray the one woman he could ever love. It was misting rain, and he thought that oddly fitting as he rode out of El Paso.
King joined the others for breakfast, still a little bleary-eyed, but sober.
"Where were you last night?" Brant asked him.
"Getting soaked in El Paso," came the dry reply.
"How much did it cost this time?" his father asked.
"I didn't break anything. I got drunk and came home."
"That's a first," Alan said, looking fully at his brother after a two-day sulk. "Did Amelia refuse you?"
King stared his younger brother down. "Not yet, she hasn't," he said after a minute.
Amelia glanced at him, irritable at being taken for granted. "The day is young," she said.
He cocked an eyebrow. "Would you really leave me in the lurch?" he chided softly. "Desert me in my hour of need?"
She blushed, because that should have been her own cry. She fumbled some eggs onto her plate, while Alan frowned with insatiable curiosity at the byplay.
"Have you told Miss Valverde?" she asked coolly.
He fingered his coffee cup. "Not yet. I have that chore to perform this morning."
"I don't envy you," Alan said. "She'll probably be audible in El Paso."
And she was, in fact. She screamed and cried; she accused King of leading her on; she accused him of ruining her good name. And all through it, he simply stood, arms folded, smoking his cigar like a man without a care in the world.
"You said you detested her," Darcy choked. "You're only marrying her because you've compromised her, and everyone knows it!" she raged. "In addition to her other failings, she is also a loose woman!"
King's face changed. His eyes became dangerous. "If I ever hear that accusation from you or anyone else again, I will make you sorry."
"Yes?" She lifted her chin haughtily. "And what will you do?"
"Buy up your father's mortgage and dispossess you, if it takes that to bring you to your senses," he said without raising his voice.
Darcy went white in the face. All the raw temper seeped out of her, and she sought excuses for her outburst.
"It was the shock of losing you," she said quickly. "Only the shock. Of course I did not mean"
King moved down the steps and back to his horse. He didn't say another word.
Later, as he mounted the steps at Latigo, he began to realize just how much harm he'd done to Amelia's reputation. If people were gossiping so much, the incident in the bank must have been greatly embroidered.
He found Amelia in the parlor, stitching up the hem of the dress she planned to be married in.
He knelt in front of her. "Can you go into church with me and overlook the gossiping, the scandal, I've created for you?" he asked bluntly. "Or do you want to be married somewhere else? We could go back East, to Georgia if you like."
She was breathless at the offer. He sounded concerned for her feelings, and that was a first. "Why I am not afraid of wagging tongues," she stammered.
He searched her face, drinking in her beauty and grace. It occurred to him that he was a very lucky man, in more ways than one.
Amelia saw the affection in his eyes and responded to it with a warm smile. "I don't mind a few odd looks."
"Nor do I. But I would have done anything necessary to spare you."
She put another stitch in. "How did Miss Valverde take it?"
He got up, dropping lightly into an armchair near her. "She took it with outrage. I suppose she was entitled. I had allowed her to believe my intentions were serious. "
"Very serious?" she fished.
He saw the blush and understood it. "One or two kisses hardly constitute a serious relationship," he said quietly. "It was my wealth that she wanted. Not me."
She finished her stitch and tied it off. "I would like to know about Alice."
His face closed up. It was a subject he hadn't discussed with anyone. He lit a cigar and pulled an ashtray close, all without speaking.
She looked across at him. "I shall have to know," she persisted. "If your heart is in the grave with her, I will not marry you, King."
His hand stilled, dropping the spent match in the ashtray. His eyes, curious, soft, searched her flushed face. "So you want more than my name, Amelia?" he asked quietly.
She clenched her teeth. "I will not share you with the living or the dead. It is the way I am made."
He leaned back, quietly smoking his cigar while his eyes sketched her soft face. "Very well. What do you wish to know?"
"Did you love her?"
" Quien sabe ?" he asked heavily. "I thought I did. I thought she loved me. But when we were in danger of losing the ranch altogether, she took up with a tinker and started being seen, conspicuously, in his company. It was during one of their drives that that Rodriguez's cutthroats attacked them." His face hardened as the memories came back to haunt him. "I do not like remembering how we found them."
"I'm sorry. It must have been very painful," she said helplessly.
"My father was in the cavalry back in the seventies," he said. "He was ..with the company that found what was left of Custer and his men. What he described is pretty much what I saw after Rodriguez got through with Alice. I understand some Indians run with Rodriguez, so perhaps he turned them loose on the pair."
"Savagery is hardly limited to Indians, or have you not read the daily reports on the Boer War?" she queried.
"Indeed." He stared at the smoke drifting up to the high ceiling. "We buried Alice and her companion and set out after Rodriguez, but he was too slippery to catch. He darted back over the border, and all our searching didn't produce him. Even the Rangers tried, but they couldn't catch him either. I gave up and went off into the mountains to try and get past what had happened. It took a long time."
"Did she love you?"
His pale eyes met hers. "She loved my money," he countered mockingly. "Just as Darcy does. She could hardly bear my touch at all." His eyes narrowed. "You are unique. You have no thirst for wealth, yet you unfold like a bud in bloom when I put my hands on you. It is disquieting. Humbling."
She moved her legs slightly under her long skirts and rearranged the fabric, avoiding his piercing scrutiny.
"As I have said, you are experienced"
"Experience is of no account where there is also revulsion," he pointed out. "But you love my kisses, Amelia. Not for all the world could you pretend such abandon."
She cleared her throat and fumbled with her needle. He was ferreting out all her secrets, making her nervous. "Perhaps I am only acting, too."
He smiled gently. "No."
She pricked her finger with the needle in her confusion and cried out, sucking it as blood welled at the tip. Over it she met his eyes.
"Do you ride, Amelia?" he asked.
"Yes."
"I will take you with me in the morning when I go to oversee the last of the branding. Unless branding makes you ill?" he added.
"I have found very little that turns my stomach," she confessed.
He got up, putting out his cigar. "I have some book work to do before I retire. Don't stay up too late, my dear."
The endearment, the first he'd ever used, made her flutter. She looked up at him when he passed. He bent and very slowly kissed her upturned mouth, his lips lingering until her own parted and offered him heaven.
His fingers slid up and down her throat, light
as a breath, before he lifted his head and released her from the sensual spell of his touch.
"Sleep well."
She opened her lips to speak, and he bent and kissed them again. She reached up her hand to flatten it against his cheek, a soft moan escaping her throat.
He caught her hand and held it tight, tight, in his, glittery lights in his silver eyes as he watched her.
"I want that, too," he said roughly. "You in my arms, your mouth abandoned to mine, the aching pleasure of feeling you against me completely. But if I hold you, no power on earth will tear you from my arms until morning. And that I will not have. The next time you come to me will be honorable and lawful. God forgive me, Amelia, I never thought to bring you such shame and pain." He brought her palm to his mouth, released it, and went quickly from the room.
Amelia held the hand he'd kissed to her breast and tried to make sense of the confusing things he'd said. He felt something for her besides guilt. But if he hadn't really loved Alice, how would he be able to love Amelia? And what sort of marriage could they have without love on both sides?
Chapter Eighteen
» ^ «
It was early morning, with dew still on the grass, when King rode out to the cow camp with Amelia riding beside him. She had, he'd told her, a perfect seat in the saddle, and he watched her with pride as she mounted and easily adjusted to the motion of the animal.
Despite her fears of the night before, Amelia had never felt more alive, more excited. It was as if they were meeting for the first time, as if there was no dark past behind them. King seemed younger, too, and light of heart. She looked at him from under the brim of her hat, feeling the rocking motion of the horse beneath her as she studied the face that was becoming more beloved to her by the day. The ghost of Alice had faded with the dawn, and the invitation to ride out into the pastures with King had made Amelia strangely shy and elated all at once. He had become her world. She was resigned to accepting whatever he had to offer her, even the leftover love from his relationship with his late fiancée. Without him, she had nothing.