by Sandra Brown
Apparently he didn't have anyone else in mind to marry. Banner knew whom he really loved. But Lydia was unavailable and always would be. That didn't make Jake less of a man. He needed a woman, often, and if the kiss this afternoon and that night in the bam were any indication, he didn't find Banner lacking.
They would have no problems sharing a marriage bed. Sharing it intimately. There was no doubt about that. Besides, they would both want children.
Her whole body went hot with the thought of sleeping with Jake night after night. All right. So she wasn't above feeling passion. Was that anything to be ashamed of? Her parents had taught that it wasn't. But they had also taught her that passion should be limited to "the confines of marriage."
It would be silly to pretend she hadn't enjoyed Jake's kiss. Well, slightly more than enjoyed. She hadn't wanted him to stop. If he had led her into the bedroom, she would have gone gladly and there was no sense trying to convince herself that she wouldn't have, despite the lessons on morality she had been taught from the cradle.
Instinctively she knew that something had lain just beyond her reach that first time. It was frustrating, wondering what had caused Jake's body to tremble violently before becoming so weak with contentment he could barely move. She had been left feeling hot, and restless, and anxious for something she couldn't even name. If for no other reason, she would have followed Jake to bed today to discover what that something was.
She wasn't in love with him. Was she? He wasn't the one she would have originally chosen for a husband, but she had always loved him another way. The transference of one set of feelings to another was what she was having to grapple with.
That and the loneliness of her life. She wasn't adjusting to solitude well. Each night when Jake retired to the barn, leaving her alone in the house, despair settled in. She had envisioned Jake sharing the living room with her, smoking his cheroots while she mended his shirts. Granted, the picture was farcically domesticated, but it illustrated the closeness she craved with a man. Jake couldn't be any less lonely than she.
She knew she was vulnerable where other men were concerned. If it wasn't Randy trying to seduce her—and she knew, though she had denied it to Jake, that the cowboy had been flirting with her before the caterpillar incident—it would be another.
Eventually, out of loneliness, she might succumb. Another man wouldn't be as caring for her reputation as Jake. Another man would brag until her father got wind of it and ended up having to kill him. She would be blamed for dragging her whole family into disgrace and lawlessness.
Or, if she were lucky enough to find someone she loved enough to marry, he would discover that she hadn't come to him pure. Such disillusionment would be a disastrous way to start a marriage. No, she couldn't marry anyone else.
Finally, she was afraid that one of these days they would have a shouting match that would culminate in Jake's leaving. That painted a frightfully dismal picture in her mind. She didn't want to care that much, but she did. She could see herself chasing down the road after him as she had done as a child, tears streaming down her face, begging him not to go.
That didn't bear thinking about either.
So if she didn't want him completely out of her life and if she couldn't go on living with him as they were, fighting both their guilt over what had happened and their desire mat it happen again, what was the only alternative?
She shimmied down to the lowest branch of the tree and jumped from there to the ground. She dusted her hands on the seat of her pants as the answer impressed itself upon her.
"I'll get Jake to marry me."
She couldn't hand down an ultimatum. He would run in the opposite direction. It had to appear to be his idea. If she started acting more wifely, he might come to think of her in those terms. She must stop losing her temper and be soft and approachable, the way men liked their ladies to be. At least the ladies they married.
Never one to leave things to chance, Banner made her plans. She didn't believe in fate. If one wanted something, one had to go after it. One made one's future what she wanted it to be.
With her former doldrums vanquished, she cooked a mouthwatering meal. She bathed out of the washbowl in her bedroom, not wanting to take the time to heat water and fill the tub. Everything had to be ready by the time he returned home. She had until sundown. He wouldn't leave her alone after the cowboys returned to River Bend.
When Jake drew the wagon into the yard, Banner stepped from the front door. The lamplight spilling through the windows made a halo of her hair, which she had secured into a loose knot on the top of her head, leaving beguiling wisps lying on her neck and cheeks.
"Hello, Jake," she said softly.
"Hello."
"Did you get your errands run? Buy everything you need?"
"Yep. I ran up quite a bill." He swung down from the wagon. He wouldn't quite meet her eyes, so she took a few more steps that brought her to the edge of the porch. If he noticed her dress in place of the hated pants, he didn't comment.
"You don't have to unload tonight, do you?"
"I should." At last he raised his eyes to the porch.
She could have swom they widened in delighted surprise, but it might have been a trick of the faint light in the gathering dusk. She clasped her hands together. "Later, then. I've kept supper warm for you."
"I told you not to wait it on me," he said crossly.
At that point, her temper almost slipped. But she held it in check, physically trapping it inside by biting her lower Up. When it was safely subdued, she asked, "Did you eat in town?"
He shrugged. "I had something."
"But you could stand some more? Steak and potatoes?"
He shifted his shoulders self-consciously and hitched his thumbs in his belt. "I reckon I could eat a little something."
"Come on in then."
She gave him her back and took those long, agonizing steps toward the front door. Only when she heard the tread of his boots and the jingle of his spurs on the porch behind her did she allow her breath to seep out in a long, relieved sigh.
NINE
Jake followed Banner into the living room. He trod lightly, like a convict who had just been granted a stay of execution. She seemed tranquil enough, but he didn't trust her mood. He had meddled in her business when she had made it plain his interference into her personal life was unwelcome. If she wanted to dally with Randy, who was he to stop her?
Then he, had kissed her. What had possessed him to kiss her like that this afternoon? He had been mad enough to strangle her, but he had sought another outlet for his emotions, one even more damaging. He wouldn't have been surprised if she had opened fire on him the minute he drove into the yard. Instead she was treating him like a king just returned to the castle.
"Hang your hat on the rack, Jake," she said. "And I don't think you'll need that gunbelt any more tonight."
"Banner, about this afternoon—"
"Never mind about that."
"Let me apologize."
"If you must, apologize to Randy. He hadn't done anything to warrant you pulling a gun on him."
"I intend to apologize to him tomorrow. I don't know what got into me." He spread his hands wide in a helpless gesture. "It's just that Ross told me to protect you, and when I heard you screaming—"
"I understand."
"And about the other—"
"Are you sorry you kissed me, Jake?"
Her face commanded all his attention. It shone pale and creamy in the golden lamplight, surrounded by the dark cloud of her hair. Her eyes were wide with inquiry, as though how he answered her question was of the utmost importance. Her lips were as tremulous and moist as if he had just kissed them.
His answer was no. But he couldn't admit it out loud, so he said nothing.
She relieved them of the ponderous moment. "Come on in the kitchen."
"I haven't washed up yet."
"You can wash in here. I have warm water waiting."
Turning, she seemed to
glide from the room, her full skirt swishing behind her. It was a simple cotton broadcloth dress she was wearing, but nothing would look simple on Banner. It was green, trimmed in lace the color of cream. Both colors enhanced her complexion. The ruffled apron looked more for show than utility. Its sash was tied in a perky bow at her waist in back. It bounced slightly each time her heels struck the floor. It was a beguiling sight, that bow.
She turned toward him and caught his stare. For a moment their eyes locked and held before she said, "You can wash at the sink while I serve up the dinner."
He nodded dumbly.
There was a vase of wildflowers standing in the center of the table. It had already been set. To Jake, who had eaten many meals out of a tin plate behind a chuck wagon, the table looked as fancy as the dining room in the Ellis Hotel in Fort Worth with its linen cloth and napkins folded into neat triangles. The aromas wafting from the stove were delectable. The lamps had been turned down so that barely a flame flickered off their oil-soaked wicks.
If he didn't know better, he would think Banner Coleman was up to no good.
"I've been cooking this steak real slow all day with onions to flavor it," she said from the stove.
Standing at the sink, he unbuttoned his shirt sleeves and rolled them to his elbows. "It sure smells good." As promised, there was a basin of warm water waiting for him. He dipped his hands into it and began lathering them with bar soap. "I had ham and eggs at Mabel's Cafe in town, but they weren't any good."
Banner made a scoffing sound. "That's no dinner for a hardworking man."
She smiled at him over her shoulder and his gut knotted. He scrubbed his hands mercilessly, as though to wash his conscience off them. He was shaking them dry when she said, "There. Everything's ready. Come sit down, Jake."
He unrolled his sleeves and rebuttoned his cuffs as he crossed to the table and took his seat. He gazed at the steaming platters of food, the scalding mug of coffee at his place setting, the flowers. It was all too good. He could get accustomed to this kind of royal treatment real fast. That kind of thinking was dangerous. It was best to put things in their proper perspective right now. "You've done yourself proud, brat."
Her eyes flashed with irritation. That wasn't what she had wanted to hear. And that made Jake all the more glad he had said it. If Banner had any mischief up her sleeve, he damn sure needed to know about it beforehand.
She recovered quickly and smiled. "If you don't get busy on it, I'll probably gobble it all up myself. I'm starving."
While she filled his plate, she asked him about the supplies he had bought. They conversed about ranch business as they ate. The food was delicious. Banner never let his plate get empty, but waited on him constantly. She was her saucy self, teasing and gay, but there was a new element to her that intrigued him. She was softer and more obviously feminine.
Jake found himself mesmerized by her mouth as she ate. Her hands moved gracefully when she lifted her napkin to her lips and blotted, men spread it again in her lap. Green and gold lights flickered in her eyes with each slight waver of the wicks in the lamps. One raven curl lay flirtatiously against the side of her neck.
The wide yoke on her dress extended from the point of each shoulder, across her shoulder blades in the back, and over the curves of her breasts in front. The seam was bordered by an inch-wide strip of cotton lace which fluttered each time she moved.
Jake couldn't seem to take his eyes off that lace. Or off the shape of her lips, or the color of her eyes, or the curve of her cheek, or the texture of her hair. She was totally captivating.
It was the pleasantest meal they had shared together, just about the pleasantest one of Jake's life. He regretted that it would soon come to an end. She was just so damn good to look at. He figured that he enjoyed watching her so much because she reminded him of Lydia. And yet—
"Are you finished, Jake?"
He laid his hands over his stomach. "I couldn't hold another bite."
"Another cup of coffee maybe?"
He grinned. "Maybe half of one."
She carried their plates to the sink, men came back with the coffee pot. She filled his cup, smiling at him when he said, "Whoa!"
"You might be thirstier than you think."
He broke his own cardinal rule and raised his eyes to her. She was looking down at him. Could it be his imagination, or was she keeping her arms held at that awkward angle longer than she normally did? It provided him an unrestricted view of her breasts. They amply filled the bodice of her dress.
Damn! His sex began to stir and swell beneath his belt. He lowered his eyes quickly.
When she rejoined him across the table and sipped her coffee, he kept his eyes resolutely away from her. Silently they drank their coffee. Then Banner set her elbows on the table and propped her chin on her hands in a way that framed her face between them as though she were offering it up to him.
"You're so lucky, Jake, to have such a large family."
He was surprised by the topic of her conversation, but relieved as well. That heavy silence was getting to him, but' he didn't want for them to talk about themselves. Or to argue after all the trouble she'd gone to to fix him this supper. "Yeah, I am. But you know I've lost several brothers and sisters as well as Pa."
"I know." She sighed and smiled at him sadly. "Ma has told me stories about each one of them, the pranks they used to pull on the wagon train. That's where you first met my folks."
"Yep." He sipped his coffee.
"Tell me about it."
He set his cup down. "About what?"
"About how you came to be such good friends with Mama and Papa."
"Well, Ross hired me to help him take care of his horses. He had five mares and that stallion, Lucky. That was the prettiest horse I've ever seen."
"I remember him. He had to be shot when I was about five. Mama cried for days afterward. Most of the horses at River Bend are Lucky's descendants." She folded and refolded her napkin, shaping it to the edge of the table. "And Mama? When did you meet her?"
What was she after? Jake wondered. Why this sudden interest in the past? He knew Ross and Lydia had guarded some aspects of their past from their children, and he sure as hell wasn't going to be the one to divulge any secrets.
He responded with carefully selected words. "My brother Luke and I found her in the woods. She was lost. We brought her back to Ma. About that time Ross's wife died delivering Lee. Ma took Lydia to his wagon to... uh..."
Did Banner know that Lydia had wet-nursed Lee? Did she know her mother had just given birth to a stillborn baby when he and Luke found her? He didn't think so, and he wasn't going to tell her.
"... to help him take care of Lee," he finished.
"But what was she doing lost in the woods? Where had she come from? Didn't she have a family?"
Clancey Russell, Jake thought, his face going hard and his fists clenching as he thought about the man who had murdered his brother without motive or provocation, but out of sheer viciousness. "No," he said curtly. "No family that I know of."
Banner pondered that and looked at him suspiciously, as though she knew be was lying. "I wish we had a larger family, with grandparents and cousins to play with."
"You're surrounded by Langstons," he said jovially, in an effort to turn the conversation.
"Yes, and I'm glad. But it's not quite the same as having blood relatives. No one has ever said, 'Banner reminds me of Aunt so and so,' or 'How is Cousin so and so's gout?' "
"I don't think Ross or Lydia either one had family to speak of."
"That's just it. They've never spoken of it," Banner exclaimed. "They've never even mentioned relatives who have died. It's as though they didn't exist until they met each other. That's always bothered me."
"Why?"
"I don't know," she said, flinging her hands aside in frustration. "I feel like there's some terrible secret that's going to come out some day and bring ruination to us all."
Jake had his own secrets to hide. He didn
't know if she was better off not knowing and being frustrated, or knowing and having to cope with the ghosts of the past. "It doesn't matter, Banner."
She gave him a wry look. "That's what old Moses used to tell me."
Jake smiled. "He was devoted to your parents. You should have known you couldn't pry secrets out of him."
"I loved him so much," she said, her mood turning sentimental again. "He was one of my first friends. He would pay attention to me when Mama and Papa were busy and Lee was ignoring me. He used to take me fishing with him. He taught me how to whittle. I never could get the knack of it, but some of the first toys I played with, he made for me. I was the one who found him the day he died."
Jake watched her eyes cloud with tears. Instinctively, he reached across the table and covered her hand with his. "I didn't know that."
She nodded her head. "I went to his cabin early one morning. We had planned to pick berries that day. He was sitting on the porch of his cabin." Suddenly she sat up straighter and her tone changed. "You know he never would let Papa do anything for him. He said he had been a slave once and wasn't going to depend on anybody to take care of him again. He built his own cabin down there by the creek." Jake nodded.
"Anyway," she continued, "he was sitting on his porch. When I got closer I noticed he was holding his head funny. I called his name, but he didn't move. I knew he must be dead. I started crying and ran back to the house."
Jake's thumb rubbed commiserating circles into the back of her hand. "Did you know Winston Hill, the man Moses came to Texas with?" she asked at last, blotting at her eyes with her napkin.
"Yeah. He was a Southern gentleman, very mannerly. He was sickly."
"Moses told me he died on the way."
But not how he died, Jake thought. Hill had been shot in the chest while protecting Lydia from her stepbrother. No one knew that but Jake. He had overheard Clancey bragging to Lydia about murdering Winston Hill and Luke. Clancey hadn't lived long after that.