“I think you have caught it good,” said Rosa, grinning. “My little brother, he is a handsome man, yes? And charming, besides.”
“Yes, yes, he is all that, I admit.”
With great satisfaction, Rosa dried her hands on a nearby towel. “To tell you the truth, Señorita, he is most anxious to see you again, as well. You know where the vineyards are located, yes? Go there, then; he is waiting for you. Vaya con Dios.”
Emma’s feet, in her little black leather slippers, moved silently over the flagstone walk to the gardens, along the dusty path between edible produce and heavy-headed roses, toward where purplish-black grapes were growing like a house afire.
And there she faltered. Stopping completely. What was she thinking to take such a bold step? There was no logic, no reason, no commonsense involved in the tenuous plot running through her head. No. There was only rash, crass craziness.
She was just about to turn back when she heard his voice softly calling her name.
“Señorita—Miss Palmer!” Benito hurried toward her, panting a little with the heat and his own excitement. “You came. You came after all. I dared not hope—!”
Emma sucked in a sharp breath that sounded almost like a sob. “Oh, Benito, this was wrong, I shouldn’ta given in. I shouldn’t be here.”
“My dear little Emma, of course you should be here,” he assured her tenderly. Capturing both her hands in his, Benito bent his shining dark head and kissed her fingers. “We have much to discuss. And much to arrange. Here, shall we sit for a few moments, and share the delight of simply being together?”
Strange. When James had importuned her to spend time with him, she had delayed and dilly-dacked and demurred. But, with Benito, it seemed the most natural thing in the world. Why was that, she wondered abstractedly.
A painted wooden bench in the shade of a wonderful old Manzanita provided cozy seating, and Emma was comforted to feel Benito’s arm around her shoulders and his lips close to her cheek. “So,” he said quietly, once settled. “It is true that you care for me, yes?”
“Care for you?” Emma was flustered. Naïve, innocent, and flustered. “Well, certainly, as another human bein’ on the face of this earth, I reckon I care for you.”
When he smiled, every cell of his face joined in, from brows to eyes to cheeks to lips. “This is a good thing, then. Because I—I, my dear Señorita, have fallen in love with you. Topsy-turvey, yes? Head over tincups, you say.”
“In love? But, my goodness gracious—”
“Ah, too fast, you are thinking. Too fast. But it happens that way sometimes. Like a thunderclap, out of the blue. And those who feel it are blessed indeed.”
It was lovers’ talk that went on for the next few minutes, even if Benito did seem to be rushing his fences and Emma did seem to be finding her way. This led to a few gentlemanly brushes to her temple and throat, and then a more adventurous caress of her bosom, and then a full-fledged full-mouthed kiss that rocked her backward with the force of a whirlwind.
When it was finally finished, Emma could barely get a word out.
“Oh. You. Mustn’t. Oh.” Even more flustered now as she was, embarrassed color had risen all the way up to her disheveled hairline and all the way down to her crumpled bodice.
“Emma. My sweet.” He had begun to smile, knowingly. “You like this, yes?”
“Benito. I like this. Yes!”
A moment of delighted shared laughter, and then more moments of quite delightful shared lovemaking, with Emma responding and returning all that she was given, in ways she had never dreamed of.
Finally, of necessity, the caballero called a halt, which frustrated him and, surprisingly, disappointed Emma. Setting to rights whatever he had disrupted, Benito curved the palm of one hand along her cheek while he worked to calm his breathing.
“This,” he told her agreeably, “is what I would like to do. As soon as we can pack whatever you want to take with you, we will ride south, to the Rancho Alfaro near Soledad.”
“With a note left behind for James?”
“It is not the most gallant behavior to do so; it is, in fact, a cowardly thing, stealing another’s bride away. I think, however, that you would like to avoid a confrontation, this is true?”
Emma, her gentian-blue eyes fixed upon the face she was coming to adore, could only nod.
“Then we shall make it so. At the ranch, you will meet my family, and my mother, who can serve as the fiercest chaperone imaginable. After that we will confer with Padre Edwardo, to set our wedding date. All this will be done only if you approve, querida.”
Another nod. Besotted. Heavens above, she was positively besotted about the man.
“So. Perhaps in two or three months we will be able to return, and apologize in person to our good friend James, yes?”
“I think that would be a very good idea,” Emma approved. Thinking, meanwhile: I want him to kiss me again. And again. I want to find out what happens behind that closed bedroom door, the way Rosa described it. Yanking her consciousness back to the present instead of the future, she reminded him that, honestly, darlin’, she did come with an awful lot of baggage.
“As it happens,” Benito put on an expression of wisdom and joy, all mixed together, “this trip, when I came to visit Rosita, our madre sent along some things she had been wanting. I brought our surrey, mi novia. There will be no problem transporting any amount of baggage you might have.”
“Then, Benito,” she leaned forward for one last lingering kiss, “It’s meant t’ be. Let’s take off and go like lightnin’.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The sky was growing dark—far too dark, for this early in the afternoon—and the wind was rising. Clouds had begun to blot out the sun, turning blue to gray. It was when an errant gust caught the edge of Molly’s skirt to whip it up nearly to her waist that James, woolgathering, took heed.
“Goddamn,” he cursed suddenly and violently. “Been havin’ such a good time that I wasn’t payin’ any mind to the weather. Looks like we got us a good storm brewin’ up, Molly.”
No fear yet, only a mild concern as she glanced around. Full-grown oak stood scattered here and there, like sentinels, to provide shade against heat and shelter against rain.
“Will we have time to get back, do you think?”
He squinted upward, saw flashes of lightning and a boiling of thunderheads. “No. And these trees ain’t the safest place, with a downpour about t’ hit. C’mon, follow me.”
Speed was essential, to reach where they needed to be, yet he dared not drive her, an inexperienced equestrian, too hard or too fast. As conditions worsened, and a blast of cool air blew through the branches overhead, she quickly understood the urgency. Molly did nothing so foolish as to saw at the reins, to lash or kick or shout. She simply leaned forward, clung for dear life to the horn, and let the mare have her head.
Thus they hastened for cover, to a small barn situated on the outskirts of the Condor property, and rolled inside just as the first fat raindrops began to fall.
“Whoa, boy. Whoa.” James eased Amigo to a halt, then stretched one hand back for Palomar.
“Okay, easy, girl.” Speaking in low, soothing tones, meant to calm through the crashes of thunder and the whooshing of wind, he swung down and moved to help Molly dismount.
No easy task, there, having to bundle her skirts out of the way and unclench her whitened fingers from their grip. Safely on the ground, she tottered.
“Easy, girl,” he repeated, making a grab to keep her from falling. “You’re a mite rocky on your pins. Doin’ all right?”
“Uh.” Yielding to temptation, she leaned into the open curve of his arm. “I see what you mean about the sore muscles, Jim. Just a little stiff and awkward, that’s all. Don’t mind me.”
He shoved his hat back to peer down at her. “O’ course I mind you, Molly. This whole thing was my idea, and it’s my duty t’ take care o’ you.”
“Your duty. Oh, certainly.”<
br />
When she pulled off her own hat, shivering a little, he gave her closer scrutiny. Today she had chosen to wear a gauzy off-shoulder peasant blouse, gussied up in flounces, silk ribbon, and flutter sleeves, atop her simple cotton skirt. Damp splotches, here and there, pasted fabric to skin, so that it was plain to see how little lay beneath.
As much as he noticed, James wasn’t about to push on along that line of thought. No, sir.
“You got rained on,” he discovered instead. “And you’re freezin’. Here, Molly, easy t’ fix.”
From his saddlebag he brought forth a flannel shirt, made of such vivid plaid that the color almost radiated throughout the dim old building. While she snuggled into its grateful warmth, he unsaddled both horses and set about putting together a comfortable camp, however temporary.
Dried-out strips of lumber and worn-out canvas chunks had been thrown by someone into a corner and forgotten. With matches retrieved from his store, James soon had a fire going, blazing away in the middle of the dirt floor. Off to the side, he heaped up bedding straw, arranged both saddle blankets on top, and the saddles themselves to rest against.
“My lady,” he indicated the layout with a contagious grin and an elaborate bow.
“Why, thank you, kind sir.” Molly returned the grin, full measure, and plopped down to take advantage of the flames.
Outside, wind and rain lashed against the barn, pelting leaves and small branches about, howling through the treetops like a wounded thing. James stood still for a moment, surveying this clash of elements. Lightning zigzagged across the sky, outlining the Southerner’s form like a modern Colossus of Rhodes.
“Didn’t realize it could get this bad, this time o’ year,” he commented with some surprise. “I heard tell the worst storms hit in the fall, once in a while durin’ winter—not late summer.”
Molly was sitting with her arms wrapped around both bent knees, watching him watch the downpour. “Any idea how long this might last?”
“Not a clue. May be a while till it blows over. I left a note for Emma, tellin’ her what we were up to. Just hope she doesn’t get worried, left alone with scary weather and not knowin’ how long we’ll be gone.”
It was doubtful Emma would worry. That would require consideration of another person’s welfare.
As quickly as that uncharitable thought came, Molly let it go. Kind. Be kind. No matter her own feelings in the matter.
A rustle of straw, and there was James, settling in beside her. He stretched out his long legs, leaned back, and, arms akimbo, linked both hands together behind his neck. “Fire feels good, doesn’t it?” he asked with a smile.
“It really does. I thank you, James, that you are so considerate. For a Carolina man,” she gave him a look of pure mischief, “you have a lot of good points.”
And so do you. Especially the ones pokin’ straight outa that see-through thing you’re wearin’, that I’d like t’ take into my mouth right now and—Jesus! Could I get any more randy? Like a goddamned ruttin’ buck!
“Ahuh. I try.” He shifted slightly, to accommodate stiffening body parts, and gazed toward the half-open door where a sheet of silver rain blocked the view. “You did good today, Molly, ridin’ like you did, hell-bent for leather. Nobody’d ever know it was your first time astride a hawse.”
“Well, goodness, I didn’t want to get caught out in bad weather any more than you did. So I was just following directions.”
He tipped that curly, well-shaped head to one side, considering. “Do that all the time, do you?”
“No, of course not,” Molly laughed.
She had an amazing laugh, he’d noticed: no polite society titter, as exhibited by Emma on occasion, but straight from the gut, full and warm and engaging, as if she felt no concern about the possibility of lines or wrinkles. In fact, her face, her whole body, were similarly expressive of any emotion. But especially of buoyant good humor, for which she seemed to have a predilection. Clover-green eyes crinkled with amusement, chortle unladylike and open-mouthed…
That mouth. Tempting, tantalizing—he could seize and savage that exceptional mouth right now, if only… Stop it!
Blithely unconscious of where his thoughts were leading him, she went on, “You haven’t known me very long, Jim, but I don’t do well at accepting orders from anyone. Yes, yes,” she held up one hand to interrupt his beginning question, “in my position I have to obey, of course. But under my breath I mumble and grumble, especially if I feel the dictate is unfair. Or stupid. And, with Emma, because of—um—unusual circumstances, I’ve had to take charge more often than not.”
“Ahuh. I c’n see that. Used to runnin’ things—valuable quality t’ have. Been on your own a lot, have you?”
“All my life.”
Those straight black brows came together in a frown of concern. “What about your folks?”
Molly took a minute to settle in more comfortably, legs bent at the knee and skewed apart, with skirts piled in a quiet froth around her. “My mother died when I was a baby. I never knew my father.”
“So you ended up—”
“In an orphanage. No other family, you see.” Picking up a stalk of straw, she began to tie its length into intricate knots, avoiding his focused attention, as the tale was told. A lengthy tale, as it turned out, but recounted calmly, with neither emotion nor upset.
He waited patiently until she was finished, to allow whatever purging might be necessary. Then he laid his fingers lightly across her forearm. “I thank you for takin’ me into your confidence, Molly. You haven’t had an easy life, and I’m right sorry for any bad you’ve had to deal with. But—if you’ll forgive my mixin’ in—you prob’ly got to be a stronger person, because of it.”
“I’m sure you’re right, Jim. You have a knack for going straight to the heart of a matter.” A trusting smile, that lightened the eyes and highlighted the smattering of freckles.
“What surprises me some…”
“Yes?”
“Well. Hard times and all, and makin’ your own way—you’re always chipper t’ be around, good-natured and lookin’ ahead t’ the future. Bein’ cheerful and upbeat is simple enough, when things are goin’ well. But when they ain’t—well, it becomes quite a challenge to keep your mood hopeful.”
Her gaze met his, straight on, with such depth of understanding and conviction that James actually felt a sudden spark of electricity in the air. Or was that the lightning flash outside?
“But that’s exactly when you need to be optimistic, don’t you think? Without it, you’re floundering around forever in the Slough of Despond, with no way out. A long time ago I decided I didn’t want to be that kind of person.” Another smile. “And while we’re at it, I appreciate your listening.”
As James studied that winsome face, his smile broadened to match hers. “Any time, ma’am. Just one of the services I provide.”
“Ah. Good to know.” What innuendo was this? Could she be so bold as to follow up, to ask what other services he might include in that offer? No. Down, girl!
Feeling restless, probably due to the shared confidence, but mostly to the out-of-bounds proximity of alluring womanhood, he shambled upright to stir the waning fire, added more wood, then glanced out at the ongoing wet-squalled tempest before rejoining her on the saddle blankets. “Reckon I didn’t plan for this junket very well, Molly. All I got in the pack is some beef jerky and hardtack.”
“It’s all right. I’m not hungry right now, anyway. Later—well, maybe then I’ll take you up on that hardtack.” She offered him a sunny smile. “What is it, anyway?”
“Hardtack? Oh, kind of a biscuit. No salt, and not much flavor. Used for ship rations, army rations. But the stuff travels well, and it’ll last a millennium or two.”
“Army rations.” Molly turned slightly to face him. She presented quite a picture, with her chestnut hair tousled every which way, the buffalo plaid shirt plackets pulled firmly together, the skirt dusted by bits of straw and wrinkled beyond re
pair. “You, Jim?”
“Yeah, me. In the War B’tween the States.”
Silence for a moment, while she digested that. Then, very quietly and sympathetically, “A tough time for both sides.”
“For sure,” he agreed, just as quietly. His dark eyes met hers, in an unfathomable look. “You wantin’ t’ know about my part in it?”
She scooted back to rest against her saddle, as he was, propping her elbow on the pommel to cradle her cheek. Positioned so, lying on her side, just a scant few inches served as separation. Cool rain continued to slash down and blow about, lending a sense of cozy comfort to this bit of shelter; from across the barn Amigo stamped, jingled his bit, swished his tail, and went back to sleep.
“Only if you want to tell me, Jim.”
He did. Suddenly he wanted to tell her everything, share what he had lived through, explain the reason for his overwhelming thrust of responsibility toward a woman who apparently felt nothing for him in return.
Without comment or question, she listened. She simply listened. There is much to be said for someone who simply listens, offering no judgment, no advice, no criticism. He spoke of the battle, late in the war, that had put him away, and his guilt at the seeming desertion of his troops.
“And that’s why you’re so torn up about where you stand with Emma,” Molly said shrewdly, once he had finally run down. “You know that you have to honor your promise. If you break off your engagement to her, for whatever reason, you’ll be abandoning the girl who traveled thousands of miles to come here, on your invitation. Just as you abandoned your men.”
Every muscle in his long lanky body went still, utterly and completely still. “How didja—”
“Even though,” she continued on in a casual tone, as if he had made no interruption, “the whole thing is absolute hogwash.”
He jerked upright, no more stunned than if she had struck him hard across the face. “I can hardly see how—”
“Nor can I, James Yancey. From what I understand, you’re not a fool. Yet you’re drawing foolish conclusions from an atypical situation, on both counts. Want me to tell you why?”
A Western Romance: James Yancey - Taking the High Road (Book 3) (Taking the High Road series) Page 8