The Legend Of Love

by Nan Ryan

  Elizabeth stopped her pacing. She turned and stared at the wall, the one farthest from the shared sitting room of the suite. All at once she knew hers was the room next to his. Could feel it. Sense it. On the other side of that wall was West Quarternight’s room. Was he there? If so, was he alone?

  She desperately needed to speak to him. To know for certain that West Quarternight was her … her Yankee lover. And if he was, could she trust him to keep quiet? Would he tell all he knew about her? If he did, what then? What would become of her?

  The prospect chilled her.

  Of one thing she was certain. If West Quarternight informed on her, a man as fine as Dane Curtin would want nothing more to do with her. She would find her marriage annulled before she was ever really his wife!

  Her head pounding, her heart in her throat, a very worried Elizabeth Curtin thought … if she were to slip quietly out the door that led directly from her bedroom into the wide corridor … if she knocked softly on his …

  Elizabeth quickly put out all the lamps. In the darkness, she tiptoed to the door. Holding her breath, she opened it and peered out. The broad, gaslit corridor was empty. Thanking her lucky stars for small favors, she darted outside, hurried over and knocked lightly on West Quarternight’s door.

  “It’s open,” came a low, masculine voice.

  Elizabeth rolled her eyes heavenward, turned the brass knob, took one last nervous look around, opened the door, and whirled quickly through it. Once inside, she stood like a frightened child, facing the heavy carved door, trying to calm her nerves before she turned to meet his gaze.

  Wondering just how long he would allow her to stand there in awkward misery before he spoke, Elizabeth took a deep breath and slowly turned around. And almost swallowed her tongue.

  “What kept you, Mrs. Curtin?” West asked, a mischievous grin on his handsome face, his heavy-lidded silver-gray eyes boldly sliding down her body. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

  Elizabeth was unable to put the brash man in his place with a wilting retort. She was far too shocked, and too rattled, by the fact that he was addressing her from his bed. He lay there looking totally relaxed, his torso bare, the white sheet resting well below his waist. At the sight of him, so apparently naked beneath only a silky sheet, a tremor swept through Elizabeth’s body, making her feel both electrified and immobilized.

  Whatever else the shameless, ill-bred man was, his dark good looks were nothing short of a study in male perfection. It was more than she could do to tear her gaze from those bronzed, muscular shoulders and that appealing mat of jet-black hair covering his broad bare chest.

  “I usually rise when a lady enters the room. You will excuse me if I don’t get up.” His low, teasing voice brought her back to her senses.

  “Don’t you dare get out of that bed, Quarternight or Colonel Underwood or whoever the devil you really are!” Elizabeth said forcefully and stormed to the bed.

  “Ah, now I see. You want to get in here with me,” he said. Smiling at her, he added, “Still a woman after my own heart.” He lifted a long arm, held out a hand to her.

  “You’re out of your mind to think we’re anything alike, Quarternight,” she snapped. She stood directly beside the bed, glaring down at him. “So stop talking nonsense. I’ve come here to—”

  “Sweetheart,” he interrupted, “I know exactly what you came here for.”

  “I doubt that very much, Quarternight! You just think you know everything, but let me assure you, you are wrong. You probably suppose that I … I …” He was looking up at her and Elizabeth suddenly detected a hint of honest understanding in his expressive gray eyes. Hopefully, she asked, “You do?”

  “Yes,” he assured her. He reached out very, very slowly, and wrapped his fingers around her forearm. To take up right where we left off.”

  He snatched her down so swiftly Elizabeth had no chance of stopping him. Too stunned to scream, she found herself draped across his torso and a strong arm wrapped tightly around her back, pressing her close. She felt her breasts flattening against his hard, bare chest, his heart beating against her own.

  “My God!” she gasped. “Oh, God.”

  “Now, darlin’, you can just call me West,” he murmured, just as his lips captured hers. Right from the start it was an intrusive, erotic kiss that instantly fired Elizabeth’s blood and anger. While his silky tongue slid quickly past the barrier of her parted teeth, Elizabeth struggled and squirmed and made loud sounds of protests in the back of her throat.

  Still West held her.

  Elizabeth doubled up her fists and beat wildly on his chest and shoulders and ears, not caring how badly she hurt him. Hoping to high heaven she did hurt him.

  After what seemed an eternity, his burning lips left hers and his steel-hard arm loosened its imprisoning hold. Snarling furiously at him, Elizabeth was up off the bed in a shot, her blue eyes flashing fire, her teeth grinding.

  “Well, perhaps I made a mistake,” he said, rubbing at a reddened ear that was ringing. “Exactly where did we leave off when last we were together?”

  Her cheeks blood-red with rage, Elizabeth made a bitter face of disgust, snatched up a streamer of the silk sash going around her waist, and roughly wiped her mouth on it, determined she would rub away all traces of his kiss. She harshly continued to rub long after any lingering taste of him—and all her pale red lip rouge—had been removed. He watched her the whole time, amused by her fervor.

  “Now, is that polite?” he said, pretending to be hurt.

  “You just shut up!” she snapped, dropping the sash. Her hands went to her hips and she said, “Why on earth did you do that? Why did you kiss me?”

  “Didn’t you come over here to get kissed?” Crossing long arms over his bare chest, he leaned his dark head back against the pillowed headboard and grinned. “Maybe you want me to help you get undressed first.”

  “Help me get un … you actually think that I …”Elizabeth glared at him. “Your conceit is colossal.”

  He shook his head and gave her a self-deprecating smile. “You mean, I’ve made an embarrassing blunder, Mrs. Curtin?” He wrinkled his brow as if trying to understand what was going on. “Forgive me, I’m a bit confused. I expected you. Looked forward to your coming. And you did come, didn’t you?” He sighed loudly. “Now you tell me you don’t want me to make love to you. Is that what you’re saying?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying! Where did you get the ludicrous idea that I would ever—”

  “If that’s not the purpose of your late-night visit, Mrs. Curtin,” he interrupted her, “what is? Why are you here?” He rubbed his firm chin and did his best to look earnestly puzzled.

  Elizabeth was not fooled. She was overwhelmed by the desire to slap that false expression off his handsome face! She knew damned well that he knew exactly what she had come here for.

  To talk straight. To find out what he was up to, this aggravating man who held her very future in his hands. Did he plan to pull her newfound world out from under her? She had to know. She was smart enough to realize that appearing upset and frightened would only please him. So, she calmed herself.

  Softening her voice, Elizabeth said truthfully, “Actually, I imagine you know the reason, Mr. Quarternight.” She waited, foolishly hoping that he would make it easy on her. He did not. He just kept looking up at her with his head cocked to one side, a dark eyebrow raised quizzically.

  “I … we …” She cleared her throat. “Although you look quite different, I take it you are the same man who … who …” She lowered her eyes in shame, fumbled for the words, finally said, “Must I go on?”

  “Suppose I say it for you. It’s true, sweetheart. I’m the Yankee spy you gave yourself to in order to save your precious hide.”

  Elizabeth’s head snapped up. “That’s a lie!”

  “It’s a fact, Mrs. Curtin. Granted, I look a bit different now, but I’m—”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about!”

  “
Then what? I seem to—”

  “I did not make love to you to save my neck!” she hissed. “Just the opposite! You took advantage of me with your spying foreknowledge—”

  “Mrs. Curtin, I’ve a feeling the man hasn’t been born who could take advantage of you.” He smiled broadly. “But I won’t hold that against you. Not at all.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not like you think. Why, that night in Louisiana when I … that you … it was … it was—”

  “Good,” he interrupted. “It was damned good. Good the way only lovemaking between two people not emotionally involved can be good. It was so good I haven’t forgotten it and neither have you. So let’s stop all this foolish talk and see if we can’t recapture the past. I’ll bet it will be just as good.”

  Horrified, Elizabeth said foolishly, “It was not good! It was awful … awful—”

  “Awful good. Admit it.” He leaned forward, drew one knee up, and draped a bare forearm atop it. “I’m naked, sweetheart. Get naked with me. Let me undress you like I did that night in the stockade. Sit here on my lap in the bed and—”

  “I will not listen to another vulgar word!” she said, clamping her hands over her ears. “Will you kindly shut up!”

  He grinned. “All right. So you didn’t come here for old times’ sake. Why did you come?”

  Cautiously, Elizabeth lowered her hands. She said, “Well, I just needed to … I mean, I thought perhaps I could—”

  “Persuade me to keep quiet about your past?”

  “No,” she quickly responded. “Persuade you to give up this assignment.”

  “Now, why would I want to do that?” West again leaned back against the pillows. He stretched out his long legs under the sheet and the folds of the thin silk outlined more than his legs. Elizabeth’s mouth went dry.

  “Why?” she said, and her voice sounded strained even to her own ears. “How can you ask why? I am a married woman, Mr. Quarternight. Dane Curtin is my husband.”

  “And you’re so wildly in love with Curtin you’re bravely willing to risk your life to find him?”

  “Yes. Yes, I am.” Elizabeth averted her eyes and stared down at the burgundy carpet.

  “May I suggest, Mrs. Curtin, that your motives are not quite so noble. Isn’t it a fact that you can’t inherit your rich husband’s money until he’s dead? Until you can prove that he actually is dead?”

  Her head snapped up. “Quarternight, the claim to the lost Grayson gold is in my name. It all belongs to me. I had no need to marry Dane Curtin for his wealth. I am risking my life for a man I love. You are doing it for money!”

  “I said nothing about risking my life,” he said evenly.

  “The journey is dangerous.” She reminded him of his own words, then added hatefully, “Perhaps you have nothing to live for.”

  Unruffled, West smiled and said, “Look at me, Mrs. Curtin.” Exhaling loudly, Elizabeth looked into his eyes. His silver gaze holding hers, he said, “You and I understand each other. We’re a lot alike.”

  “We are nothing alike!”

  “For argument’s sake, let’s say you’re right. Nevertheless, you came here tonight to strike a bargain with me.”

  “I didn’t.” She tossed her head proudly back and spoke the truth. “I came here to find out exactly what you intend to do with the information you have, Mr. Quarternight.”

  “Why, nothing,” he said, and Elizabeth’s heart speeded with relief. Then he added, “You want something from me. I want something from you. Am I right?” She said nothing. He went on, “You want me to keep quiet. That’s easy enough.” He fell silent, waiting for her to speak.

  “And you? What is it you want, Mr. Quarternight?”

  She noticed the ripple of muscles in his dark arms and chest when he again leaned up from the pillows. He said, “Make it worth my while.”

  Elizabeth found her resolve.

  West smiled and patted the bed beside him.

  Elizabeth smiled seductively back at him. She sucked in her breath so that her firm breasts would swell and press against the tight bodice of her peach silk gown. Putting out the pink tip of her tongue, she slowly wet her lips.

  “And exactly what,” she murmured in a honey-rich voice, “would you consider ‘worth your while’?”

  West swallowed hard. “You, baby. I want you. Spend the night with me.”

  Confident she was ready to capitulate, West began to lift one edge of the silky sheet. He was preparing to rise and take her in his arms when Elizabeth fell heavily down on him, almost knocking the breath from him.

  She grabbed his bare shoulders and slammed him back up against the pillowed headboard. Her angry face inches from his own, she thrilled to the look of total surprise and disappointment in his widened gray eyes.

  Coldly, she said, “Nobody blackmails me, Quarternight. Nobody! Nor am I a whore who offers her body in exchange for favors. The only thing I wanted from you that night we made love was just that, to make love! So listen to me, because I only mean to say this once. If you think you are going to hold something over my head, think again. As soon as we find Dane I will—”

  “Tell him yourself?” West coolly interrupted, his composure returning.

  “Yes! I’ll tell him myself. Tell him everything.”

  “No you won’t,” said West accusingly. “If you meant to tell him, you already would have.” His tanned fingers slowly rose to the sides of her throat and he gently urged her forward.

  Elizabeth tore his hands away and leapt up.

  Looking down at him, she hissed, “You, Mr. Quarternight, were and always will be a low-down, dirty yellow Yankee spy!”

  Softly he replied, “And you, Mrs. Curtin, were and always will be the prettiest red-haired Rebel murderess who ever rolled in the old hay with a dirty yellow Yankee spy.”

  18

  HAVING SPENT A SLEEPLESS night of worry, Elizabeth was pale and tired the next morning when she went downstairs to meet Edmund for breakfast. Walking through the double glass doors that led into the crowded La Fonda dining room from the hotel lobby, she paused and searched vainly through a sea of hard-bitten, sun-roughened male faces.

  The dining hall was swarming with loud, hungry vaqueros, cowboys, ranchers, and merchants. Sprinkled in among the locals were a few hotel guests, easy to spot by the way they were dressed.

  Squinting through a thick haze of blue cigar smoke, Elizabeth looked anxiously about for a pale golden head among all the dark ones, unaware of the glances of interest and inquiry she drew from the mainly male gathering.

  Just then the morning sunlight, streaming in through a skylight, touched the shiny blond curls of a well-dressed man across the crowded restaurant. Seated near the front of the rectangular room, his back was to her, but there was no doubt in Elizabeth’s mind that the fair-haired man was Edmund.

  She started forward, cautiously working her way through the maze of filled tables, the sounds of laughter and loud talk grating on her taut nerves, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and hot baked biscuits doing little to whet her sluggish appetite.

  Elizabeth was six feet away when she saw him.

  West Quarternight, seated across the table from Edmund, pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. Elizabeth stopped stone still. But she knew he had seen her, knew it was too late to turn and run.

  “Why, there she is now,” said West, looking directly at her.

  Elizabeth had only a split second to look daggers at West before Edmund was rising and turning. She smiled warmly at her brother-in-law.

  “You look a bit tired, Mrs. Curtin,” said West, stepping over to pull out a chair for her. “Didn’t sleep well?” Looking anxiously at her, he leaned down close, his expression one of concern.

  “My dear, West is right. You do look a bit pale,” agreed Edmund, studying her fair face, detecting the dark smudges under her large blue eyes.

  “I never felt better in my life,” said Elizabeth evenly, moving toward the chair West
held out. Noticing joyfully that the tall, dark man wore only soft Indian moccasins, she managed to bring the hard heel of her leather-shod foot down directly on his toes.

  She did not look at him. Directing her full attention to Edmund, Elizabeth remained standing as long as possible, thoroughly enjoying the act of inflicting a small measure of pain on the tormenting teaser whose very presence was unsettling. She stood and turned her foot from side to side, grinding down her heel with the full weight of her body, longing to hear the impervious Quarternight yelp with pain.

  “Sit down, Elizabeth,” said Edmund. “Now that you’re here, we’ll order some breakfast.” He looked away and began hunting for a waitress.

  Elizabeth immediately turned to look up at West Quarternight. Catching the distinct expression of discomfort on his tanned face, she experienced a quick surge of delight. She gave him a smug, triumphant smile. He merely grinned and shrugged muscular shoulders.

  Then with his full, smooth lips, he silently mouthed the word, “Owwww.”

  Elizabeth left him with one last parting twist of her heel before moving around to take the seat he held for her. He politely pushed her close to the table and reclaimed his own chair on her left. Edmund had managed to attract the attention of a Mexican waitress, who hurried to the table, smiling and wishing them all a cheery buenos días.

  It did not escape Elizabeth that the brown-skinned woman, pretty in a white ruffled Mexican blouse and colorful print skirt, came all the way around the table to stand directly beside West Quarternight’s chair. Nor did Elizabeth miss the fact that the woman’s dark, flashing eyes lighted with pleasure when West favored her with a lazy smile.

  “Shall I order for us all?” West asked.

  Edmund said gratefully, “Yes, why don’t you. We’ll trust you, won’t we, Elizabeth?”

  “Just coffee for me,” she replied flatly.

  West looked up at the hovering Mexican waitress and ordered breakfast in flawless, fluent Spanish while the woman nodded and giggled and acted as if she couldn’t stand still. The woman’s behavior—like Quarternight’s—irritated Elizabeth. What could possibly be so amusing about a simple breakfast order?