Amelia

by Diana Palmer

  "It will not matter," she said, her face expressionless. "I shall go, and that is an end to it." She shook hands warmly with Brant. "Thank your wife and Alan, please, for their kindness. I shall never forget you."

  "Nor we, you, my dear," Brant said miserably. He left them there, muttering all the way out the door.

  Quinn saw his sister settled in a modest room in the hotel and went over to the jail to check on his prisoner. But when he reached the jail, a terrible commotion was in progress, men with guns drawn rushing around the building in a fever of industry.

  Quinn immediately thought the worst. With his badge in place on his vest, he strode into the sheriff's office and stopped dead just inside the door. There, on the floor, lay Rodriguez. He had been placed on a stretcher. His expression was very quiet, peaceful, without strain or contortion. There wasn't a mark on him except for the small hole in his temple.

  "Who?" Quinn asked the sheriff fiercely.

  "That's what we're trying to find out. The pistol was lying on the floor of the cell, he was on top of it "

  Quinn bent down to examine the wound and then examined Rodriguez's hands as a terrible thought began to occur to him. He examined the outlaw's left hand. It was the left temple where the bullet wound was located, and it was known that Rodriguez was left-handed. Quinn pulled out his white handkerchief and wiped the slightly grimy hand. Sure enough, there were faint powder marks on the fingertips. He laid Rodriguez's hand back on his chest and bent his head.

  "You won't find an assassin," Quinn said very quietly. "He was left-handed. There are powder marks around the wound, which certainly means it was done at point-blank range." He looked up at the sheriff. "This was suicide."

  The sheriff nodded. "That's what I thought, but they," he indicated the deputies outside, "swore it had to be someone who didn't want Rodriguez to stand trial. Accomplices, maybe, in his rustling confederation." He shook his head. "I've been in this business a long time. Never knew an outlaw to do this."

  "He told me yesterday that his victims had come back to haunt him," Quinn said heavily. "I never thought he'd do this. He was a religious man, and Catholic. Suicide denies him an eternal rest."

  The sheriff moved closer, his hand in his vest pocket. He frowned. "You really think so?" he asked philosophically. "Seems to me that suicide is the act of a desperate mind, so maybe God makes allowances."

  "That could be."

  The sheriff shrugged. "All the same, saves the city the cost of bed and board and the trial. Kind of him."

  "He was a kind man," Quinn said. But he wasn't joking. He had to ride to Malasuerte and break the news to Maria. He dreaded it more than the thought of death.

  He got up from the floor, took one last look at the tired old man on the stretcher, and went out the door.

  King was picked up by one of his cowboys returning from the branding pens on a chuck wagon early the next morning as he walked down the dirt road a few miles from Latigo. He was in need of a shave, and he looked as tired as he felt.

  "I'll kill that damned horse and make barbeque of him when we get back," he told the cowboy furiously.

  "Don't blame you, sir," the man, an Irishman, said with a grin. "Don't blame you a'tall. Horses is the very devil."

  "All because of a damned snake." King still couldn't believe his bad luck. He settled down on the seat, grateful for the lift, because his feet were killing him. All the same, it was like being batted in the rear with a board every time the buckboard hit a bump. He hated wagons.

  When he got to the house, there was no one about. He left the Irishman at the barn and strode up on the porch. Amelia was going to be furious, and he deserved her wrath. He didn't even have a decent explanation for his outburst.

  Amelia was not in her room, and it was with a cold sense of foreboding that he walked into the kitchen where his mother was cooking a late breakfast.

  His father was sitting at the table, looking worn and angry.

  "So there you are," he told King with cold eyes. "You're a little late. Your wife has left you."

  King let out a slow breath. He felt suddenly hollow inside, faintly fearful. "Already?"

  "She is now convinced that you have buried your heart in the grave with Alice and want no part of her," Enid added without looking at him. "She is doing the decent thing and letting you go without any recriminations."

  "Did I ask to be let go?" he burst out furiously. "My God, I'm not pining for Alice!"

  Enid glanced at him, disapproving of his dusty clothes and unshaven face. "You look terrible."

  "I should look terrible!" he raged. "My damned horse got spooked by a rattlesnake and deserted me in the middle of nowhere! I had to bed down for the night in the desert and hitch a ride with the chuck wagon this morning. I'm tired and cold and hungry and worn out, and now my wife's left me!"

  "Which is no more than you deserve," his father said flatly.

  King glared at him. "Quinn could have waited one more day for his disclosure about Rodriguez. He's ruined everything!"

  "It seems to me that Quinn was just as upset over his own predicament," Enid said. "He was in love with Rodriguez's daughter. How do you think she will feel about him when she learns that her father is in jail because of Quinn?"

  King sat down at the table and, reaching into his father's jacket for a cigar, also searching for a box of matches, lit it.

  "I suppose Quinn must feel half as bad as I do," he admitted. "But it was poor timing. Where is Amelia?"

  "Probably on her way to Florida," Brant said with cold pleasure.

  King's fingers froze the cigar in midair. "What?"

  "She is going to live with her cousin until you get a divorce or an annulment."

  "An annulment?"

  Brant glared at him. "Nonconsummation is certainly grounds for" He saw the look in his son's eyes and stopped dead.

  "There are no grounds for an annulment," King said icily, daring his parent to say another world. "Amelia is my wife. I do not intend letting her go to strangers when she may even now be carrying my child!"

  He got up from the table and strode out the door.

  Enid and Brant exchanged startled glances, but neither of them could manage to put their thoughts into words.

  The trail to Malasuerte was longer than Quinn remembered it. He was tired and heartsick, but he had to go on. He had to confess it all to Maria, to tell her the truth, no matter how much it hurt. Then, if after knowing everything, she could forgive him, he would marry her. She wouldn't have to worry about Juliano, either, because he'd take care of him. He tried not to think about Rodriguez and what had happened. It hurt more than he'd imagined anything could. He'd grown fond of the old bandit. He regretted very much being the catalyst that had cost him his life.

  He rode into Malasuerte late that afternoon. The pueblo was the same as always, except that when Quinn dismounted this time, people didn't gather around him. They hung back, looking at him with fear instead of affection. It took him a minute or two to realize what made the difference in their attitude. This time there was a silver star on his vest, denoting that the bearer was a Texas Ranger.

  That wasn't the worst of it, though. Maria slowly came forward. She looked at him, and in her eyes was the worst kind of hatred and contempt.

  "We have just received word that our papa has killed himself in the jail. He trusted you, but you betrayed him! You betrayed all of us. ¡Vaya !" she spat, weeping. "Go away! You are not welcome here, Mr. Texas Ranger!"

  He stood without moving, his reins in his hand, the horse neighing softly behind him while he felt the depths of despair well up in him.

  "I love you, Maria," he said unsteadily.

  She didn't answer. She turned and went back into the hut that had been Rodriguez's. The rest of the inhabitants of the small pueblo turned their backs on him and left him alone on the outskirts of the settlement. Quinn stayed there for a minute, but it was apparent that Maria was too hurt to come back. He mounted his horse and rode back toward
Texas. He felt as if he no longer had any purpose in life. Everyone had deserted him. He didn't dare think about the loss of Maria, or he'd go mad. But the road ahead looked very lonely indeed.

  Chapter Twenty

  » ^

  Amelia was just sitting down to dinner in the hotel's elegant dining room, all by herself, when conversation stopped and heads turned toward the door.

  A rough-looking, unshaven man in jeans and a checked shirt and a disreputable hat and boots was striding toward a nicely dressed young blond woman in a white lacy dress and black shawl. She stared at him from a face gone white, but he didn't appear to notice her distress. He went to her table and, without a word, pulled her chair out, lifted her high in his arms, and strode out the door of the hotel toward a waiting buggy. It would be a long time before the citizens of El Paso forgot the sight of King Culhane carrying his escaped bride back out to Latigo!

  "How dare you embarrass me so!" Amelia raged as he snapped the whip at the horse's rump to start him off down the street. The straining sound of the leather harness and the dusty thud of the horses' hooves on the hard-packed dirt did nothing to muffle her angry voice.

  "You shouldn't have run away," he said pleasantly.

  "You left!" she accused furiously. "You rode off and left me there with all our guests, after you ordered my poor brother off the place! What did you expect me to do, sit and simper while you went off to mourn your late fiancée?"

  "You're shouting, Amy."

  "I am not" She cleared her throat. "I am not shouting. I am simply making a point. I do not wish to go to Latigo with you. I am making arrangements to live with my cousin Ettie in Jacksonville, Florida."

  "Not without me, you aren't."

  "I do not wish to live with you," she informed him haughtily. "You are rude, overbearing, domineering, mannerless, thoughtless, and cruel!"

  He shrugged. "A man must have a few faults in order to be interesting." He glanced sideways at her, and his face softened magically, like the silver eyes that held hers. "You look very pretty in white."

  "Flattery will not erase your past behavior from my mind."

  "I have something much more physical planned."

  "You will not touch me, sir!"

  "Yes, I will." He glanced at her with slow, possessive eyes. "Until you make love with me, our marriage is not legal."

  "You don't want it to be legal," she countered, face flaming.

  "Indeed I do," he replied. "I find you congenial company. There is, of course," he added with a lingering appraisal of her, "the matter of your regrettable temper."

  "I do not have a temper!"

  "And you have a tendency to run away."

  "I didn't run, you threw me out!"

  "I threw your brother out," he corrected.

  "There is no difference!"

  "Between your brother and you? There most certainly is! I have no desire whatsoever to kiss your brother," he added with a slow smile.

  She flushed, and her hands became nervous in her lap. She stared at them without looking up. Her anger was leaving her, and she was becoming vulnerable all over again. He was close beside her. She felt his warmth and strength and knew a slow-growing ache to be in his arms again, with a return to the affection that had been blossoming between them.

  He pulled the buggy into the shade, where there were patches of grass for the horses to nibble. He looped the reins over the brake and rested his booted foot next to it while he turned to look at Amelia without humor.

  "We got off to a bad start," he said bluntly. His silver eyes searched hers closely. "It was my fault. I lost sight of a lot of things in a burst of bad temper. That's something you'll have to get used to, because I can't change. I'm prone to outbursts and impulses, it's my nature. But you've a temper of your own, so you should be able to cope quite well."

  "With your temper, yes. With the memory of Aliceno," she added weakly, averting her eyes.

  He put a gentle hand to her face, turning it back to his. "Rodriguez has been a thorn in my side for a long time. It was being helpless, knowing that someone I cared for was murdered and I was unable to prevent it, to help her. Amelia, I would have felt just the same if one of my men had been butchered in such a manner."

  "Oh."

  He traced the hair at her cheeks, loosened it on the breeze. "I heard in town when I asked for you at the desk that Rodriguez was found dead in his cell today," he added. "The opinion is that he committed suicide rather than stand trial."

  "Poor Quinn," Amelia said softly. "His Maria will not be quick to forgive him, I fear."

  "Perhaps not. But I hope that you, and he, will be able to forgive me," he added quietly. "I said some unkind things in the heat of anger, Amy, things for which I am sorry."

  She drew in a steadying breath and slowly relaxed, leaning toward the hand that was caressing her face. "You will be a very difficult husband," she said slowly.

  He brightened, because she was no longer talking of leaving him. "Probably," he admitted. "But then, what challenge is there in a compliant one?"

  She smiled, and all his fears began to vanish. He pulled her gently into his arms and turned her over his lap.

  "I will not let you leave me," he said, breathing against her mouth as he took it slowly under his own. "Never in a thousand years!"

  She reached up and held him, giving him back the long, slow kisses that left them both trembling with frustrated need. She finished with her face in his hot throat, clinging madly to his strength.

  He held her until the feelings calmed somewhat, gently smoothing her hair.

  "I will cherish you until I die," he said huskily. "All my life, Amy."

  "And I, you." She shivered as she nuzzled closer. "Oh, King, I do love you so!"

  His arms contracted involuntarily, bruising. His mouth searched blindly for hers. "Say it again," he bit off against her lips.

  "I love you love you"

  He whispered it back to her, parted her lips with his, found her soft body with his hands. She wept when he stopped abruptly and folded her protectively close but without passion.

  "Don't stop," she whispered.

  "I have to," he said hoarsely. "This is hardly the place," he added on a husky laugh.

  "Your parents are still at the house."

  "They are discreet," he replied gently. "They will find a way to absent themselves. For now," he added, clasping her hand in his, "it is enough that we're together."

  A statement with which Amelia could hardly disagree. She had something very special to tell him. But it would keep, for a little while.

  There was no one to greet Quinn when he rode back into town. Gossip was rife about Amelia and King, however, and he permitted himself a tiny smile when he realized that whatever King's qualms about the marriage had been, he knew what he wanted now. It looked as if King and Amelia were back together for good. He went upstairs early, carrying a bottle with him, and drank himself into quiet oblivion.

  Brant and Enid were overjoyed when they saw King walk in with a radiant Amelia. They decided very quickly to go after Alan, and since their bags had already been packed, it was a simple matter to have one of the cowhands drive them in to the train station.

  King and Amelia waved them good-bye from the porch and then went back inside, arms around each other, to begin their marriage.

  He lifted his radiant bride and carried her down the hall to the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind them. He laughed softly at her flush as he carried her to the bed and put her down gently on the bedspread.

  "Are you truly so nervous?" he chided. "This is not our first time together."

  "I wish that it were," she said with faint sadness.

  He sobered quickly. "I can understand why you might feel that way. I was wrong about you, Amelia. I made some terrible assumptions and acted on them. I wonder that you wanted to let our marriage continue at all."

  Her dark eyes smiled up into his silver ones. "But I love you," she said simply. "What choice did I have?
Although," she added with a soft sigh, "I do fear that I was right when I said you would be a difficult husband." Her arms circled his neck and gently pulled him toward her. She reached up to kiss him very softly. "You have a tendency to talk too much!"

  He chuckled, all the sadness vanished, as he followed her down onto the bed. Not another word was spoken for quite some time.

  She curled into his arms, shivering a little in the aftermath of the most tender loving she could ever have imagined. "Will it be like this from now on?" she whispered, shaken.

  "Always," he promised. He curled her closer into his body, cradling her while he sought to calm his violent heartbeat and erratic breathing. Her body had given his pleasure beyond belief, even surpassing their first time together. He had caused her no pain this time, making certain that he was slow enough with his caresses to bring her to an incredible level of need before he joined her body slowly to his. Even then, it was he who kept the lazy pace when she pleaded for him not to torment her. At last, when they fell through the stars together, she wept violently. Her sweet cries increased his own pleasure, so that it was an ecstasy that brought a brief loss of consciousness with it.

  "What are you thinking?" she asked daringly.

  "That I have never felt such pleasure," he said honestly. He looked down into her misty eyes and bent to brush his mouth over their tired lids. "Perhaps I dreamed you, Amelia," he whispered. "I could be forgiven for thinking so. I love you so much !"

  She clung to him, answering his hungry mouth, but too tired to do much more than that.

  He laughed wickedly. "Have I exhausted you, my dear?" he asked gently.

  "You, and our child," she whispered, watching his eyes as she said it and then smiling at the stunned reaction that stilled his expression.

  He scowled. "Our child."

  She nodded. She took his lean hand and placed it over the faint swell of her stomach, no longer shy or inhibited with him, though neither of them were covered. "Will you mind, so soon in our marriage?"

  "Oh, no," he said genuinely, and his eyes began to sparkle with feeling. "No, I will not mind." He began to smile and then to chuckle as his eyes boldly wandered over her. "I thought this very becoming radiance was my doing, but I can see now that it is not." He bent to kiss her, cherishing her mouth. But when he drew back, his eyes were troubled. "It was the first time, that we made this baby," he began slowly.