Comanche Moon

by Virginia Brown

  “I never knew,” she said slowly when he didn’t speak or move. “She never told me.” She looked at him. “You knew.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me? Perhaps I could have—”

  “There was nothing you could do.” His voice was harsher than he intended, and he took a deep breath. “I want to talk to you.” He could see Deborah gathering her poise around her like a shield, and felt another wave of admiration. Her cool control made him realize how close he came to losing his when he was around her, and he hooked his thumbs into his belt loops to keep from reaching her. She was too tempting.

  Deborah led the way to the parlor, her hips swaying gently and her full skirts drifting gracefully around her ankles. Zack looked around at the house, the carpets and wallpaper, and fine furnishings. It was a fine setting for Deborah, a bed of velvet for a pearl beyond price. Some of his anger faded, and he recognized that Dexter Diamond could give her everything he could not. When she shut the parlor door and turned to face him, Zack couldn’t speak for a moment. His throat ached, and he felt suddenly awkward. She was so beautiful. So damn lovely. He tried not to think of how soft her skin was, or how sweet her lips were. She was looking at him as if wondering why he had come, and he was beginning to wonder that himself.

  Before he knew it, he asked, “Why, Deborah? Why did you marry him?” The question startled her. He could see the quick widening of her eyes, the flash of gold sparks before her lashes veiled them and she looked away.

  “You have no right to ask.”

  “No right?” He couldn’t help a blaze of anger. “Dammit, I think I have a right to an answer, at least. I end up in a desert with four bullet wounds because I try to save you, and you want to tell me I have no right to ask?”

  Her face paled, and he saw her chin quiver. “Zack, they told me you were dead. I believed them.”

  “So you mourned me for what? A month? Two?”

  “It wasn’t like that!”

  “No? How was it?” He shoved away from the wall where he’d leaned to keep from going near her, and took a step closer. “Tell me, Deborah. I want to know. How was it you get married two months after my supposed death?

  Christ! I may not believe in a long mourning period, but you don’t seem to believe in any.”

  “What was I supposed to do?” she asked calmly, and her poise was suddenly more maddening than endearing. “Don Francisco kept me under guard for weeks. At first I didn’t care. Then, when I began to think about survival again, it was Dexter who was there for me. You weren’t. I was grateful to him for rescuing me from Don Francisco. He asked me to marry him, and I said yes.” She looked down at her lightly clasped hands and said softly, “He was willing to make promises.” He stared at her, feeling as if he’d been kicked in the belly. It felt as if the world had suddenly dropped away from beneath his feet and left him suspended. His words came back to haunt him, those denials of how he felt even to himself. She was right. He had taken her, kept her from her family, and offered nothing in return, not even the comfort of promises. She’d had nothing to hold to, yet she’d loved him until death. Could he really blame her for surviving the best way she knew how?

  Zack leaned back against the wall again, suddenly tired. “I need to go.” He felt her eyes on him, heard her sound of distress, and looked up.

  Tears made her hazel eyes gleam softly, like muted gold, and he straightened.

  He knew he couldn’t stand this another moment. Emotion ripped at him, feelings he’d thought he’d lost or could control threatening to overwhelm him. He turned and yanked at the doorknob, slung the door open and crossed the hallway. His boots echoed loudly on the smooth, polished floors.

  Squares of light made the wood gleam and blurred his vision, and he reached the front porch without knowing how he got there. He crossed it in two long strides, grabbed the gray’s reins and vaulted into the saddle without bothering with stirrups.

  The gray bounded forward eagerly, and he thundered from the yard in a cloud of dust and regrets, hearing Deborah’s soft voice call his name once, then twice. Then nothing. She was behind him, and there was nothing before him, nothing but dust and broken dreams, and emptiness.

  Zack didn’t look back. He couldn’t.

  Chapter 24

  Dusk seamed the horizon with purple and gold shadows. Deborah stared out her bedroom window without seeing it, her mind tortured with visions of Zack riding away. No tears came, but she hurt too badly to weep.

  His pain had been real, and she’d known then what she’d only hoped before—he loved her. He loved her, and she was married to another.

  There had been such a stricken look in his eyes, those clear blue eyes that haunted her dreams. God, would she ever be able to forget it? No, no more than she’d ever be able to forget him. He was part of her, part of her past, part of her heart, part of her soul.

  She’d wanted to tell him that, watching him stand there against the door, his thick dark hair brushing down over his ears to his collar and shining like a raven’s wing in the gloom of the parlor. She might have, if she had not seen his eyes. Then she’d known, she’d known she could not say the words that would make it even worse. It would destroy them both. It was kinder for him to think she didn’t care, that she’d chosen the easier path.

  But oh, dear God, how very hard it was for her to watch him leave. She’d been weak enough to cry his name, but the echoes of it ringing through the air had stopped her. And she had stood in the open doorway while he had ridden away, remembering that night at Fort Richardson when he had paused on the crest of a ridge and wheeled around to salute her and shout Usúni!

  Forever. He would remember her forever, he’d said, and she had not realized how short that could be.

  Or how long.

  A knock on her door startled her, and she turned as it swung open.

  Dexter stood in the opening, his brawny frame blocking the hall as he gazed at her.

  “You all right?”

  She cleared her throat. “Yes. I’m fine.” Just dying inside.

  He looked uncomfortable. “Mind if I come in?” Deborah forced a smile. “No, not at all.” She indicated a chair to one side, and he gave it a dubious glance and shook his head.

  “No thanks.” He shut the door behind him, and came to her and put a hand under her chin, tilting up her face. “No tears?”

  “Am I supposed to weep?”

  “That’s what I was wonderin’.” He released her chin, and gazed down at her with a baffled expression. “How long are we gonna sleep in separate beds?”

  “I told you, until—”

  “I know,” he cut in with an irritated growl, raking a hand through his tawny hair. His eyes were narrowed to dark brown slits, his mouth tight. “Did Banning kiss you?”

  Deborah stiffened. “Really, Dexter, that question is insulting.”

  “I don’t give a damn.” His voice was hard. “Did he? Did he kiss you, gawddamit?”

  Deborah’s chin lifted, and her face was pale. “No, he did not come within two feet of me, if you must know. Do you think me so dishonorable that I would already break my vows to you?” He turned away, pacing with frustrated steps around the spacious bedroom. “No,” he said finally. “But I know that you thought he was dead when you agreed to marry me. Does his being alive change that?” After a hesitation, Deborah said, “No. I made vows in front of God. I’ll keep them.”

  Diamond’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and his eyes grew warmer.

  “You’re quite a woman.” When she didn’t respond, he stepped close, and lifted her face to his again, this time with a different emotion.

  Her eyes closed as he set his mouth over hers, and she felt his hunger.

  He kissed her long and slow, and when he drew back to look at her he was breathing raggedly. She felt the tension in his corded arms, the muscles bunched beneath rolled-up shirt sleeves. His forearm was coated with thick, golden hair, and his hands were broad and possessive.

&n
bsp; A faint shudder tickled her spine, and he swore softly and let her go.

  “Dammit, Deborah. Why won’t you let me close to you?” She looked away, then forced herself to look back at him. “If you want . . . want me, I won’t refuse to do my duty.” He stepped back as if she’d slapped him, and anger made his voice rough. “Duty! Is that what you call it? I’ll bet you didn’t feel that way with that damn ‘breed, did you?”

  Deborah’s face went white, and she clasped her hands together in front of her. Diamond groaned.

  “Deborah—I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that. I won’t bring him up again, I promise. If you say there’s nothing there, then I believe you.” He sucked in a deep breath. “After today, when Banning rode out of here like all the hounds of hell were after him, not even stopping to pick up his pay or the horse he rode in, I figured that . . . that something had happened between the two of you.”

  “Nothing happened today.”

  He nodded acceptance. “Fine.” An awkward silence fell, but Deborah couldn’t think of a single thing to say to ease it. All her early years of training in the social graces and self-discipline had not given her the words she needed now, and she stood with her hands quietly folded and her face a polite mask, and waited.

  Finally Diamond said gruffly, “Guess I’ll let you go to bed. Unless you want to join me and Judith in the parlor for a while.”

  “I . . . I’m rather tired. If you don’t mind, I’d like to wait until another night.”

  “Sure. Sure.” He flicked her a glance, then gave a careless shrug. “My lawyer says we got Velazquez on the run, in case you’re interested. Says we can win in court, and those lands will be mine.” Some of the confidence came back into his voice as he said, “Once I get him where I want him, I’m goin’ to crush him like a bug. That bastard will know he’s lost, by God.” Deborah eyed him. “Is that what this is all about? Ruining Don Francisco?”

  “Hell, sugar, don’t you want to?” He sounded amazed. “Look what the man did to you. And would have done to you if I hadn’t shown up.”

  “Yes, he was wrong. But you put him in a position he must defend. If he does not want to sell his land, why are you trying to force him into it? Those lands have been in his family for generations.” Sparks of anger lit his eyes, and Diamond shook his head. “I don’t understand you, woman. No, I surely don’t. I thought you’d want revenge.

  Hell, he almost killed Banning when he tried to help you, and would have if those men of his weren’t so damn careless.” Deborah had paled again, and Diamond’s eyes narrowed.

  “Dammit, Deborah, I can’t even say his name without you lookin’ like I hit you.” He grabbed her shoulders and shook her until her hair tumbled free of the neat coil and fell around her shoulders and into her face. “I told you I won’t have him between us, you hear? If I have to kill him myself, I won’t live my life with a gawddammed half-breed gunman lyin’ between us in bed at night!” He gave her a shove that sent her stumbling backward, and she came up against the edge of the bed.

  Instinctively, she put her hands behind her to catch herself, and saw Diamond staring at her with a return of heat in his eyes. She froze, unable to move as he walked toward the bed with determined strides.

  His broad hand pushed her the rest of the way back, and Deborah bit back a scream as he lowered his weight atop her. He pulled at her skirts and unbuttoned her blouse, and when she remained still and quiet he began kissing her. She could not force a pretense of response, but she did not resist him. This was her husband. She’d married him of her own free will, and if he chose to ignore her request to wait until she was ready, she would not struggle.

  But neither would she participate.

  Diamond kissed her and fondled her breasts and caressed her until he was panting and ready, his body hard against her. He pushed her skirts up and tore aside her pantalettes, then wedged between her thighs. She felt him, and closed her eyes, steeling herself for what came next.

  He lifted to his knees and she heard the metallic click of his belt being unbuckled, then the snap of a button as he unfastened his pants. Deborah turned her head to one side and waited.

  After a long, tense moment, she heard him curse harshly before he pushed away from her. “Dammit, you’re lyin’ there like a friggin’ sacrifice! I don’t need to rape a woman to find one willin’, do you hear?” Deborah opened her eyes, aware of her skirts up around her waist and her blouse open and Dexter Diamond angrily buttoning up his pants. She wanted to say that she was sorry, but knew that it wouldn’t make any difference. Not to him. Not to her.

  When the door slammed behind him, she rolled over on her side and stared dry-eyed at the far wall. Her throat ached with the unshed tears, and she gazed down the long years ahead without Zack. She could understand his loneliness now, the emptiness he’d spoken of so long ago.

  Sunlight poured into the bedroom and glinted off the porcelain chamber pot. Deborah’s shoulders shook with retching spasms. She didn’t hear the door open but suddenly Judith knelt down beside her.

  “Are you ill?” she asked anxiously. “Deborah, what’s the matter?”

  “I’m . . . not sure . . . what it is.” Deborah shook her head slowly, unwilling to move too quickly for fear the world would spin alarmingly again.

  Judith’s cool hand cupped her brow. “No fever,” she said after a moment. “Maybe it’s something you’ve eaten.”

  “Not eaten,” Deborah muttered. She looked up at her. “I’ve lost my appetite the past few months.”

  “Here. I’ll help you back to the bed.” Judith lifted her, cradling an elbow in her palm as she urged her toward the wide bed. She helped Deborah into the bed and pulled the covers over her, then stood there for a long moment.

  “I wish Tía Dolores were here. She would know what to do.” Deborah managed a faint smile. “It’s nothing, really.”

  “Shall I tell Dexter? He could send for someone . . .”

  “No!” Deborah’s eyes opened wide with panic. “Don’t tell him. This is the third time this week, and I’m sure it will go away soon.”

  Judith perched on the edge of the bed, her blue eyes worried. “I don’t like it. You could have something truly bad. I want to tell him. He’s your husband, Deborah, even though you treat him as if he were your enemy,” she added sharply, then sighed when Deborah flinched. “I’m sorry. But if you heard him talking about you every night—he should be with you, not playing cards with me at night.” Her hands clenched tightly together. “God knows, I enjoy his company, and he makes me laugh. I can’t understand why you don’t try to know him better. He’s got so many good qualities, and I feel badly for him when you push him away.”

  “Please, Judith,” Deborah said faintly. “Not now. I feel so weak.” The clock on the mantel ticked loudly. Outside the open window, there was the distant noise of men and cattle. The two women gazed at one another.

  “Would you let me ask one of the women in the kitchen?” Judith asked finally. “There’s Juana, who seems very nice and kind.”

  “Yes,” Deborah replied. “But tell her not to mention it to anyone else.

  Especially Dexter. I don’t want him fussing over me.” Judith pressed her lips tightly together, but nodded. A short time later, she was back with the genial Mexican cook. Juana listened gravely to Deborah’s symptoms, asked a simple question, then nodded wisely.

  “You are to have a child, señora. If you will but think back to the time of your last courses, then add two hundred and sixty-five days, you will know the time of the birth.”

  Deborah just stared at her blankly, her thoughts chaotic. Pregnant?

  Impossible. Why, the last time had been with Zack, of course, and that had been three months before. She blanched. Three months.

  Juana was smiling, her broad face creased with pleasure. “The señor will be so pleased! A child makes everyone happy, no?” No, Deborah wanted to say sincerely, but Judith had recovered from her shock and was thanking Juana for coming to
see about her.

  “Don’t tell anyone,” she admonished the cook. “It must be a surprise, all right?”

  “Sí, sí, I would not tell anyone,” Juana said. “It is always the mother’s privilege to do so.”

  When Judith shut the door, she leaned back against it, staring at her cousin. Deborah wondered if her face was as white as Judith’s.

  “What are you going to do?” Judith finally asked. “This will kill him.” Deborah buried her face in her palms. “Dear God, I don’t know. Oh, why didn’t I think? I should have known.”

  “If I remember correctly,” Judith said dryly, “you have been a bit busy with other things the last three months. If not worrying about Don Francisco, you were half out of your mind with grief. And then, after the rescue—well, I imagine it just never occurred to you.”

  “Obviously.” She took a deep breath. “Well, I’m certain Dexter will not want to remain married to me now. It won’t matter about the Velazquez lands.”

  Judith looked down at the floor. When she looked up again, her eyes gleamed with blue lights. “This should suit your charming savage very well.

  Now he can take you back to the woods to live in primitive delight for the next forty years.”

  “That was cruel,” Deborah said quietly, and Judith had the grace to flush. “I’m sorry,” she muttered. “When do you intend to tell Dexter?” Gathering her courage, Deborah said, “As soon as possible. It’s only fair.”

  Dexter Diamond shook with fury. “No. You’re not going anywhere.

  You’re married to me. When you throw the brat, you can send it somewhere, but you’re staying.”

  Shocked, Deborah couldn’t speak for a moment. Then she felt a wash of cold rage sweep over her. “I have no intention of doing any such thing. This is my child, no matter who the father. I am keeping my baby.” Diamond closed the distance between them in two steps, and he grabbed her by the shoulders, his voice rough. “I won’t have no gawddammed Comanche’s bastard on my land!” Deborah glared up at him in spite of her sudden fear. “I told you, I will grant you a divorce or annulment or whatever you want. You can say what you like. I’ll leave, and I won’t ask you for anything.” He shook her until her hair tumbled free of the confining pins and tangled in her face. She fought a wave of dizziness and nausea. Her hands gripped his forearms for balance, and she cried out with distress. He stopped, his hands falling away. His chest rose and fell with quick, angry drags for air.