The Southern Devil

by Diane Whiteside

Or perhaps he was simply better at hiding his interest. It was difficult to believe he wouldn’t catch gold fever as Mother’s lover had, given Morgan’s fondness for get-rich-quick schemes.

  “With great difficulty, I brought much of the gold back to civilization. But there remains more gold than a man can put his arms around. I settled here in Kansas City, where I could retain close ties with my friends in Santa Fe.”

  Much of the gold? Hallelujah, there was still more out there to be found. If she could find it, she could rescue her friends and the horses and save Somerset Hall, while keeping Charlie out of it. She simply needed money and time to fetch the gold. A great deal of money.

  “The War Between the States was unkind to my family and my fortunes. I lost my beloved wife and our children, as well as most of my property.”

  Abercrombie paused to sip his coffee. Charlie leaned forward impatiently and Maggie looked frustrated. Morgan crossed and uncrossed his ankles, like a gentleman whose greatest concern was whether he’d be late for dinner.

  Jessamyn frowned. Surely Uncle Edgar could not have lost the map in the decades since he left Santa Fe.

  “But I still retained the map, my home, and most of its contents. After much thought, I decided upon the following disposition of my estate. My home will be sold and the proceeds divided among my loyal servants. The contents will be divided among my friends and my servants.”

  “The map! Dammit, who gets the map?” snarled Charlie.

  “Patience, Jones, there’s more to hear,” Morgan drawled, his eyes sharply assessing Charlie.

  Charlie’s face turned ugly, reminding Jessamyn of a man she’d seen during an Indian fight, who’d been frustrated and furious when his captain had ordered an end to the shooting. Only the sergeant’s quick action in pointing a loaded rifle at him had stopped the fellow from shooting his captain then and there. Charlie had the same fixed stare, the same absolute willingness to do violence to get his way.

  Her heart sank as the true difficulties of the task ahead seeped in.

  Abercrombie speeded up his pace. Maggie patted her husband sympathetically on the knee and they smiled at each other warmly. Jessamyn shivered at their bloodthirsty understanding of each other.

  “The map represents the greater part of my estate and therefore passes to my blood kin. I had two siblings, both of whom have passed on before me: my sister Sophia and brother James. It was my earnest hope that both branches would combine and share the gold. However, after a lifetime in this family, I cannot believe in that future. Therefore, in the interest of fairness, I have made the best copy possible of the map, without the marks or fading caused by time.”

  A copy? Despite any marks or fading of it, she’d still prefer to have the original map.

  Morgan tilted his head slightly and regarded Abercrombie quizzically. It was his first true sign of interest in the proceedings.

  “One version shall pass to Sophia’s children and the other to James’s children. Since the journey is long and arduous, beset by many dangers from both man and nature, I insist that only men may undertake it. Therefore, each branch of the family must have at least one adult male member or else both versions of the map will pass to the other branch.”

  Jessamyn’s mouth tightened. Hidebound old man. Uncle Edgar had made his point, but she’d have her copy, even if she had needed Morgan’s help to be here. Just what, or how much, she’d have to pay for that help was something best not yet thought about.

  “I have placed each copy in identical brass tubes. The eldest descendant of my eldest sibling, Sophia—”

  Abercrombie nodded toward Jessamyn before continuing.

  “Shall have the opportunity to choose one tube. James’s eldest descendant shall receive the other tube. Both branches of the family will then have an equal opportunity to find the remaining treasure. Whichever branch finds the treasure shall divide it equally among themselves.”

  “Do you have any questions, Mrs. Evans? Mr. Jones?”

  Jessamyn shook her head. “None, thank you.” First choice? How would she know which was the original?

  Maggie looked as if she wanted to say something cutting, but Charlie’s hand clamped down on her arm. Morgan shifted, ready to stand up quickly.

  Abercrombie swallowed. “Very well then.”

  He reached into his desk’s center drawer and pulled out two long, slender, brass tubes approximately the size of a telescope. Each was tied up with a scarlet cord, knotted and bound with crimson sealing wax at every intersection, creating a completely tamper-proof package. As promised, they were completely alike except for a few, almost imperceptible dents. “Mrs. Evans, which one do you want?”

  Jessamyn stood up and came over to the desk, Morgan rising behind her. Her corset was a steel band clamping down on her ribs, a surprising sensation since she’d worn one every day of her adult life.

  She took a deep breath, reached, and her hand closed around a brass tube. Charlie’s hand shot out and snatched the other tube off the desk. Jessamyn hesitated but handed her tube to Morgan, who produced a knife as easily as any magician. She’d known he’d have a penknife, which she didn’t, and she could observe him closely, in case he had ambitions for the map.

  “Please open your bequests now,” Abercrombie ordered, “to ensure you each received a satisfactory map.”

  Morgan and Charlie quickly attacked the cords. Charlie was absolutely silent as he worked but Maggie hovered over him, urging him to hurry.

  Jessamyn closely watched Morgan expertly slice the red cords and fought to retain an appropriately dignified demeanor. He wrenched open one end and an old, brittle piece of parchment, wrapped in fine silk, dropped out.

  The map was stained in very odd patterns and its edges were frayed. But the lettering was still crisp, while the lines were sharp and clear. Morgan suddenly lifted an eyebrow but said nothing, his finger poised above the parchment.

  Jessamyn gulped. She’d chosen the original.

  Maggie hissed like an angry spitting toad as Charlie carefully pulled fresh white parchment out of his tube. “Well, at least it’s a readable copy, unlike the other. Open it, Charlie dearest,” she urged. “Let me see the map that’ll bring us a fortune.” She leaned closer to him, fondling his hip.

  Morgan briskly slipped Jessamyn’s map back into the tube. He twitched his coat back, revealing his Colt, all the while watching Charlie closely. Grateful for his protection, Jessamyn shifted closer to him, leaving him a clear line of fire to her treacherous cousin.

  Charlie kissed Maggie, looking very pleased for the first time that day, and cooed over their map’s bold black inks and crisp details. From her few glimpses, Jessamyn thought that the original was more precise but she couldn’t be sure.

  Jessamyn started to plan. She needed to find someone who could take her to the gold, despite Charlie’s treacheries. Someone with resources, who was as nasty and shady as Charlie. Someone, dammit, like Morgan.

  She had friends in Denver, who’d offered to help her. But they couldn’t provide enough aid to stand up against Charlie in a race for gold.

  “If that’s the end of it, we’ll be going now,” Charlie announced and began to roll up his version.

  “Next train to Denver isn’t until tomorrow morning,” Morgan observed coldly.

  Charlie gave Morgan a look that would have gutted and filleted a catfish, as he slid his copy back into the tube. “Maybe we’re heading east. Or south.”

  “Or maybe Timbuktu. Don’t try to cozen me, Jones.”

  “Now, now, gentlemen,” Abercrombie reproved. “Won’t you sit down for the remainder of the will? It includes bequests made to family members.”

  Charlie was so busy glaring at Morgan that he barely glanced at Abercrombie. “Send them to us in Denver. We’re too busy to sit through more idle chatter.” He grabbed his wife’s arm. “Come along, Maggie.”

  They were gone a moment later, escorted out by Abercrombie, who wore the air of an unwilling lion tamer. Maggie Jones man
aged to give Morgan one last glance offering an infinity of carnal possibilities before the door closed. Jessamyn’s hackles rose as her hands curled into claws. The greedy, smelly slut.

  She frowned an instant later, wondering at her own reaction. What did she care whom Morgan cuckolded? Lord knows Charlie undoubtedly deserved every nasty trick he received.

  “Do you think he might have a special train waiting?” She rolled the brass tube over and over, wondering how to reseal it, a far more profitable thought than considering Morgan’s plans for the evening.

  Her head was spinning. Charlie, the gold, Morgan’s designs on the gold, a night with Morgan—she was at a loss to say which was more alarming.

  Her mouth was dry, yet her skin was tight and hot.

  Morgan tweaked the curtains aside and looked out the window. “No, not here. Jones would need a Denver & Rio Grande train for that, which would be hard to come by in Kansas City. He’ll be on the morning train to Denver instead.”

  He dropped the curtains into place and came back to her. “I’ll buy you a train ticket back to Jackson tomorrow, though.”

  Chapter Six

  Jessamyn stared at Morgan in absolute shock. “Tomorrow? But I can’t go to Jackson—I have to find the gold!”

  He shook his head, his expression uncompromising. “Jessamyn, there’s no treasure. Ortiz’s gold is one of New Mexico’s oldest legends and no one’s ever found it.”

  Rage blurred her vision. Did he want to get her out of the way and claim the gold for himself? She shook her head, refusing to accept the emotional distraction. The gold was her only chance to regain Somerset Hall and she needed all her wits to defeat Charlie. “What about the map? You’ve seen and handled it. Don’t you believe in it?”

  “I swear to you on my mother’s grave, Jessamyn, if you give me five minutes on the Plaza in Santa Fe, I can buy you a dozen such maps.”

  “No!”

  “Twenty minutes and I’ll have ten men, all swearing to be Ortiz’s grandsons and ready to lead me to the gold.”

  “That’s impossible! I heard stories as a child, whenever I visited Uncle Edgar, especially from Aunt Serafina, about the gold. How Ortiz had found it, how Uncle Edgar had carried it out, how heavy it was.”

  Morgan hesitated, then set his jaw. “Legends told often enough frequently become truth. Your Uncle Edgar probably found a smaller vein and decided to become famous by saying he’d found Ortiz’s gold. Come, let’s go have a drink before we return to the hotel.”

  “No!” She yanked her arm away from him. “Then loan me some money and let me go after the gold alone.”

  “You don’t know what you’re asking, Jessamyn. You’d be racing against Charlie Jones, who knows more about double dealing than a convention of faro dealers. Treasure or no, you won’t survive without a top trail boss and a dozen teamsters.”

  “You could lead them. You’re a top trail boss.”

  He shrugged impatiently. “Why should I? Jessamyn, Ortiz’s gold doesn’t exist.”

  “I’d give you a bonus,” she offered desperately.

  “Jessamyn!” he bellowed and shook her by the shoulders. “How many times do I have to repeat myself? Ortiz’s gold does not exist. You cannot bribe me with it. There, does that satisfy you?”

  She was forced to believe he meant it. After all, he’d been traveling to Santa Fe, in the New Mexico Territory, for years. She frowned, her mind whirling through possibilities. If not a golden fortune, then what else did he want?

  Revenge.

  She could offer her body to Morgan unreservedly—except for protection against pregnancy, of course.

  The air suddenly seemed hot and stifling in Abercrombie’s spacious office.

  She must be mad to even think of bargaining with Morgan, especially a bargain that would put her in his intimate power for weeks on end. The man who’d carelessly, selfishly risked her father’s life. Who was so devoid of family feeling as to pursue easy money in faraway places, while his crippled cousin labored to rebuild the family heritage in his stead? And God help her, the one man who’d heated her blood to where she’d have forgotten all claims of duty and honor to follow him.

  But if it was her only chance to save Somerset Hall, with her beloved friends and the horses…

  She would rescue her beloved friends and horses from that plague-ravaged town, no matter what devil’s bargain she had to make.

  Abercrombie opened the door.

  “Get out!” Morgan shouted.

  The door slammed shut.

  “What’s that brain of yours spinning now?” Morgan asked suspiciously.

  The only card she had to play was that he still wanted her in his bed. All the promises he’d made nine years ago seemed still fresh in his mind, hot for action.

  Her treacherous body trembled, remembering how his chest had rubbed against hers.

  Years of marriage to another Evans had taught her something of how to handle these men. She deepened her voice, trying to make it seductive. “When you were tied to my bed, you told me one day I’d be moaning for more.”

  His eyes narrowed. “So I did. What of it?”

  Locking her knees, she carefully spelled out her bargain. “If you help me find the gold, I’ll share your bed for the entire trip, not just for the two hours we spent in Abercrombie’s office today.”

  “Are you trying to bribe me with your body?”

  She spread her hands. “Morgan, you won’t take gold so what else can I offer you? Why not accept my body as a reward for traveling through Colorado?”

  “You’re a decent woman! No gentleman would ever accept your offer.”

  She sighed, adopting her most ladylike expression. Miss Ramsay would have been very proud. She’d always said men needed ladies to give them guidance. But that guiding men was like training horses: it was best done with a light hand on the reins. “You’re quite right: you’re entirely too much of a gentleman to accept such a bargain. I’ll simply have to find someone else. It would be far safer for me than spending so much time with you.”

  He frowned, his eyes glinting like silver daggers. “What are you talking about?”

  She shrugged, trying to look both impoverished and upright. “I’m not sure you’re entirely trustworthy.”

  “Explain yourself, Jessamyn.” His tone would have terrified anyone who wasn’t his cousin’s widow and therefore safe from murder, at least.

  “What trappings do you show of a steady, God-fearing man? You travel the West for a living with no fixed address. You brag of your ability to make money by smelling out get-rich-quick schemes and swindlers.”

  “Dammit, Jessamyn, I am trustworthy,” he snapped.

  “Of course you are, Morgan.” Pleased she’d come up with an argument he couldn’t counter, she continued. “But you have acquired property by investing in fly-by-night characters and chance-met businesses, not by diligently attending to your own business.”

  “I’ve made a fortune that way and I’ve never broken the law,” he growled, white grooves bracketing his mouth. “My word is my bond, no matter how much I must pay to satisfy it.”

  “But you agree those are your friends, don’t you? So how could I feel safe traveling with you through Colorado?”

  Her heart in her mouth, she took the risk of approaching him. Deliberately, she stepped close enough to almost brush his chest, enticing him with what he could have if he agreed. Reminding her of how a few minutes had seared him into her memories. “Since you’re telling me that you don’t want me, that weeks spent sharing my bed would be unpleasant for you? Since you object that strenuously, then I’ll have to go to Denver and find someone else to take me to the mountains.”

  She sighed for effect and lowered her eyes, guarding her expression—and wishing to God she wasn’t so incredibly aware of every bone in his body, every muscle. Dammit, even the way his Adam’s apple bobbed.

  He roared in the back of his throat like a frustrated lion. “You won’t find a better expedition tha
n I can mount, thanks to Donovan & Sons. I can bring you all the way through the San Juan Mountains, following that goddamn map, better than anyone else in the world.” He pulled her up to him, stroking her back, and lowered his voice. “And the nights, Jessamyn, will be better with me than with anyone else.”

  She slid her hands up his shoulders, praying that sleeping with Morgan wouldn’t be worse than traveling with another trail boss. That weeks of sharing Morgan’s bed wouldn’t leave her half-insane with heated memories.

  His gray eyes flared with primal hunger. Her foolish heart skipped a beat.

  “Any limits on those nights, Jessamyn?”

  Her breasts were suddenly heavy, aching for his touch. “Anything that won’t cause pregnancy.”

  He gave a harsh snort of laughter and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her suddenly, brutally close. “I don’t want a child from this either, Jessamyn. I just want to hear your voice begging me for more of my touch.”

  He cupped her chin in his hand, his calloused fingers rough against her skin. “I must be insane,” he muttered.

  “Then we have a bargain?” she queried, unsure if her leaping stomach was due to appalled propriety or carnal anticipation.

  His gray eyes seemed to have become flames as he nodded. “Of course. Now start thinking about all the ways you’re going to please me.”

  He trailed his fingers slowly down her cheek, leaving tendrils of heat behind. How could he have this effect on her with just his voice and a teasing touch?

  He smiled down at her, all hot eyes and white teeth. “I told you the next time we were alone, after the War, that I would do what I wanted to do with you. That you would be the one crying out in hunger and ecstasy. Correct?”

  Jessamyn nodded slowly. “You did say that.”

  He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She shivered, eyes fixed on his.

  He kissed her forehead and nuzzled her cheek. His voice hardened subtly as he whispered in her ear. “That you’d be the one promising anything, in exchange for another touch, not me. True?”

  Jessamyn swallowed hard but told the truth. “Yes.”