Again she tried to feel pleased over the sweet things he told her. But she felt nothing. Nothing but emptiness.
When Ben let go of her hands and walked away from her, she watched the way he walked. He sort of bounced, like he was walking on springs.
Another man’s stride came to her mind. A fluid, easy stride. Graceful, yet full of restrained power that could be unleashed instantly and without warning.
“Russia,” Ben said quietly, “I— I made that toast at dinner on purpose. I do want to see you. When Santiago came to me this afternoon and told me you wanted to dine with me tonight… I’d never felt so happy in my life.”
Russia stiffened. “Santiago tole you that?”
Ben smiled. “Don’t be embarrassed. I didn’t mind your forwardness. In fact, I liked it. And I appreciated Santiago bringing me your message.”
Her mind reeled with questions only one person could answer. “I wanna go back to the hotel, Ben. I— My head’s about to bust wide open. The doctor said fer me to rest, and I reckon that’s what I need to do.”
“Of course. How thoughtless of me not to remember that.” He placed his hands upon her cheeks and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead before leading her back to the hotel.
As she walked quietly beside him, Russia’s confusion gradually turned into irritation. By the time Ben escorted her up the steps of the hotel, she felt real anger. How dare Santiago arrange her evening for her! She couldn’t wait to give that high-handed varmint a piece of her mind!
“May I see you tomorrow, Russia?”
Her mind spinning with all the dirty names she was going to call Santiago, she didn’t even hear his question.
“May I, Russia?” Ben asked again. “We could picnic together. Dinner again tomorrow evening. The day after that…I’ll take you for a long ride in my carriage. I know where wild phlox grows. While you enjoy the blossoms, I’ll read those poems to you.”
She nodded absently, his words failing to register. “Yeah, Ben. Whatever you say.”
“Splendid. I’ll call for you in the morning. Around eleven. Good night, Russia.”
She looked at him blankly, finally realizing she’d just accepted three invitations from him. Cantankerous carts of kangaroo cocks, why the hell had she done that? She gave a long sigh of resignation. “’Night, Ben.”
Ben watched her disappear into the hotel. His heart thundered in his ears; his stomach pitched strangely.
He was in love.
* * *
Santiago paced in Russia’s room, his steps fast and furious, his boots leaving deep heel masks in the thick rug. For the hundredth time, he looked at the small clock on the bureau. “Seven-thirty!” he bellowed to Nehemiah, who sat on the bed watching him walk back and forth from wall to wall. “I had no idea she’d be out this late!”
“Where the hell could she be?” he raged, stopping in front of the bed to glare at the gray tabby. “She left the hotel at five! Whoever heard of needing two and a half hours to eat some lousy dinner?”
He yanked his fingers through his hair, then lit a cheroot. The blue smoke surrounded him, irritating his eyes. He stabbed it out in the ashtray.
There was a full moon. He could see it in the sky from the room window. “Maybe she’s out walking in the moonlight with that green-eyed, pearl-white Prince Charming of hers. Maybe the royal pansy is holding her hand. Maybe he’s even kissing her.”
“Santa Maria,” he groaned angrily. If Ben became forward with Russia, would she allow it? Or would she slap him?
“What do you think?” he asked Nehemiah. “It’s the first time they’ve been out together. Do you think she’d let him kiss her so soon? He probably kisses with his mouth closed, if you want my opinion. She wouldn’t enjoy that. She wouldn’t. I…don’t think she would at all.”
Nehemiah blinked, then hopped off the bed. He spied a cricket in the corner and made a mad dash for it. Tail and head held high, he trotted back to Santiago and dropped the dead cricket.
“She looked beautiful tonight,” Santiago carried on. “Maybe I shouldn’t have bought gowns that fit her so well. Dammit, maybe I should have sent her out with Gentleman Ben wearing a burlap sack!”
Nehemiah batted the cricket onto Santiago’s boot. He looked up expectantly, his tail swishing. But when the door rattled, he turned toward it, ears pricked forward.
Santiago realized the noise was Russia’s key. She was back. His hand on the butt of his Colt, he vowed to shoot Ben Clayton if the man dared to set one foot inside Russia’s bedroom.
He jerked his hand away from his gun when she walked in alone. “Where have you been?” he demanded.
She slammed the door so hard, a picture fell off the wall. “Jist where the hell do you git off makin’ dinner plans fer me with Ben? When he tole me you’d—”
“I asked you a question!”
“Yeah? Well, slap a dollop o’ lard in the ole iron skillet! You listen to me, you no-’count—”
“You’ve been gone for almost three hours! I know damn well it doesn’t take that long to—”
“You don’t know diddly squat!” Raising her arm, she threw her reticule at him and was satisfied when it hit him square in the chest. “You’re the one who maked all them big plans fer me, you irritatin’, sneakier’n-a-weasel, plumb nelly obnoxious varmint!”
Her anger took him aback. “What happened while you were with Ben?” he asked suspiciously, moving his hand to his Colt again. “Was he— Did he treat you— Russia, he didn’t try to take advantage of you, did he?”
His obvious concern softened her instantly, and she felt rather guilty over her show of anger. Maybe Santiago had good reasons for wanting her to be with Ben. Shaking her head, she walked to the bed, sat down, and kicked off her slippers. “Ben was a perfect gentleman, Santiago. He treated me real good. Like I was a real lady. All’s he done was kiss me on the forehead.”
At the thought of Ben’s lips on Russia’s satin skin, a wretched ache spread throughout Santiago’s frame. “On the forehead,” he repeated almost inaudibly. “How decent.”
“Santiago, I jist don’t understand why you got him and me together. I didn’t ask you to do it.”
“Don’t you like Ben?”
“There ain’t nothin’ about him not to like. Like I done tole you, he’s a real nice and decent gentleman. But why was you so hell-bent fer me to go to dinner with him? Fer that matter, why didn’t you come with us?”
“Because…I spent all evening with your mare,” he lied. “Earlier, I noticed she was acting skittish, and I wanted to be with her for a while tonight. I wouldn’t have been able to take you to dinner, so I had Ben do it instead.”
He wondered why she hadn’t said more about Ben’s qualities. Hadn’t she noticed the man was everything her Prince Charming was supposed to be? Again he decided that she probably needed more time with him.
He shifted uneasily from foot to foot. “Did he say he wanted to see you again?”
She began peeling off her stockings. “Yeah. He invited me to have a picnic with him tomorrer afternoon and dinner again tomorrer night. The day after that, he said he wanted to take me fer a ride in his carriage. Said he knowed where wildflowers grow and that while I messed around with ‘em, he’d read poems to me.”
“Poems,” Santiago whispered. He stared at her slender, bare legs. His palms itched to caress them. God, he wanted to hold Russia. Right now. Wanted to put his anus around her tightly, to show her and himself that she belonged to him. He wanted to kiss her. Hard. Wanted to kiss her endlessly until she no longer knew who Ben Clayton was.
He wanted to make love to her. To do things to her no other man ever had. He wanted to hear those soft moans of hers. Wanted those slender, bare legs wrapped around his back. Wanted to be one with her.
He wanted to bring her the pleasure she’d never known. Wanted to feel it shimmer through her body before he brought it to her again and again and again.
He wondered if he would ever have the chance to do
those things. If he didn’t, would it be Ben who did?
Fury almost too great for him to contain exploded inside him. It was all he could do to stand there and face her. “Did you accept all his invitations? I think you should, you know,” he added hastily, the words tasting like poison in his mouth. “I’m going to be very busy with your mare, Russia, and several men here have asked me to school horses for them as well. There’s no sense in you sitting here in this room while I’m out—”
“But I want to watch! I—”
“No.”
“Why?”
He bent his head, pretending to adjust his belt while trying to think of some excuse. “I work alone when training horses. I don’t like an audience, and neither do they. Besides that, you’ll be with Ben. You said yourself that he’s a decent gentleman, Russia. If he’s asked you to be with him, the proper thing to do is to accept his invitations. If you refuse them, it might hurt his feelings. You don’t want to do that, do you?”
“You ain’t gotta carry on about it, Santiago. I already tole him I’d go.” She berated herself once more for having accepted Ben’s invitations. It wasn’t that she held anything against Ben, but she wanted to watch Santiago train the horses.
“Fine.” He stalked to the door. Before leaving, however, he turned and pointed to a desk across the room. “Those came for you while you were out.”
Russia saw a massive arrangement of red roses. She hurried toward them, breathing deeply of their heady scent before finding a card attached to one of the stems. Removing it, she brought it to Santiago, who was still standing in front of the door. “What’s it say?”
He already knew what it said, for he’d read it fifty-five times after the roses had arrived. Eyes flashing, he took it from her and read it for the fifty-sixth time. “‘Russia, you will receive these flowers after having returned from our night together. Please accept them as a token of my affection. Sweet dreams, Ben.’”
Russia smiled. “Nobody ain’t never sended me flowers before. If ever I wanted some, I had to pick ‘emmyself.”
Santiago opened the door. “Ben’s a real prince.” With that, he left quickly.
Russia stared after him until he entered his own room and disappeared. Something was definitely wrong with him. First thing tomorrow, she’d ask him what it was.
But when morning came, so did Ben. He apologized for having come earlier than the designated hour of eleven, but professed he just hadn’t been able to wait that long to see her again.
Russia had no choice but to spend the entire day with him. That day led to the next, and then to another. A week passed.
Almost all of it without Santiago.
* * *
He was used to hard work, but Santiago couldn’t remember ever having worked as hard as he was doing now. Not only had he trained Russia’s mare, but in the past week he’d schooled six other young horses in Whispering Oaks as well, earning a small fortune for performing the tasks.
He began at dawn and didn’t slow until dusk made it too difficult for him to see. But even at night he remained with the horses. In the stables, he continued gentling them, soothing away their last shreds of nervousness with soft words and long, relaxed sessions of grooming. It was often midnight before he returned to the hotel.
Regardless of the endless hours of physical exertion, of staying thoroughly busy, he couldn’t tear Russia’s image from his mind. She remained his constant companion, and sometimes she was so real to him, he caught himself talking to her.
From a distance he’d seen her several times with Ben. She and her gentleman seemed fond of walking. They strolled everywhere, making it impossible for Santiago not to notice them. They took carriage rides, too. Russia looked beautiful sitting amidst all that red velvet.
And Ben was always laughing. Santiago wondered what outrageous things Russia said to make the man laugh so hard and so often. Once upon a time she’d told him those outrageous things, and, like Ben, he’d laughed hard and often, too.
Santiago heard none of those outrageous things now. He left the hotel while she was still asleep, and when he returned she was in bed again.
He wanted it that way. Being near her was torment. Even the quick glimpses he got of her from day to day filled him with desperate longing for her and violent anger toward Ben. He had to remind himself constantly that Russia now possessed what she’d always wanted. It was only a matter of time before it would finally dawn on her that Ben was her prince.
Santiago was determined not to stand in the way of her dreams.
* * *
The second Russia heard the knock at her hotel-room door, she knew who was behind it. Exquisite joy escaped her on a stream of giggles. “Santiago!”
“How’d you know it was me?” he asked when she snatched the door open. Staring at her, he saw dark circles beneath her eyes. “You look tired, Russia,” he accused. “Too many late nights?”
She laid her hand on her cheek, her fingers trembling across the area beneath her eye. “It’s them nightmares. I ain’t been sleepin’ good on account o’ them bad dreams have been comin’ back.”
He felt immediate concern, hating the thought of her lying in bed with her nighttime demons.
“But I’m all right,” she hurried to reassure him. She sighed, unable to get her fill of him. As if she’d forgotten what he looked like, she memorized him by heart all over again, astonished by the fact that he seemed even more handsome, more devastatingly sexy, than he’d been a week ago.
His scent surrounded her like heat drifting from a fire. Sun, she thought. Steel and leather. Warm earth, and hard work, and fresh wind. His fragrance made her feel giddy with pleasure.
His wet shirt clung to every curve of muscle in his chest. “Hot outside, ain’t it? Hotter’n a two-peckered billy goat.”
Despite his uneasiness, he grinned. Santa Maria, how he’d missed her wayward tongue.
But his smile soon faded when the meaning of her words registered. He looked down at himself, wishing he’d thought to change into clean clothes before coming to her room. He’d been with the horses all day and was drenched with sweat. Maybe he even reeked. Anger welled. Ben Clayton had probably never sweat a drop in his entire life. Russia probably liked that. He took a step backward. “How’s Ben?” he mumbled.
“Fine, but why are you askin’ from the hall? Git in here.” She pulled him into the room and shut the door. “I ain’t seen you in a week, Santiago. What—”
“I told you I’d be busy with the horses. Your mare is ready for you to ride.” God, but she was gorgeous, he thought. She wore a yellow gown, and he noticed it brought out all the gold in her hair.
He noticed other things, too. Every available space in her room was filled with roses. Atop her dresser, he saw several satin-covered boxes of fine candies. Princely gifts, he mused miserably. Pushing his fingers through his hair, he walked further into the room.
Russia followed him. “We went to see Little Miss Muffet the other day, but she weren’t in her stall. We figgered you had her out. Then I seen you. Out in the distance. You looked…looked real good out there doin’ all them things with her.”
She closed her eyes for a moment, remembering that day. The wind had been blowing. Even from the distance she’d seen it whipping Santiago’s hair around his face and shoulders. As always, he’d been dressed in pure, somber black. He’d looked more than good that day. He’d been superb. Though she herself hadn’t seen a single one of his commands, the mare had responded to every one of them. It was like he was magic, or something.
“Yeah, real good,” she said again.
Unwilling to allow himself to enjoy her compliment, Santiago stuffed his hands into his pockets and thought of other things. “I bought you a saddle and bridle. I even fashioned a little wooden box that can be attached to the saddle. It’s for Nehemiah. I thought you might like to have him with you when you ride.”
His thoughtfulness touched her deeply. “Thanks, Santiago.”
“Hav
e you made any women friends here?” he asked, recalling that decent women usually spurned her. The few she’d met on the day of their arrival had warmed to her immediately, and no one knew what her line of work was, but her language often raised brows, and it went completely against his grain to allow someone, even a woman, to mistreat her.
“I meeted a real nice lady yesterday. Her name’s Trudy Lawson. Her and her husband, Cody, raise chickens nearby. Trudy wants to teach me how to sew.”
Things were going very well for her here in Whispering Oaks, he mused, glad for her, miserable for himself.
“Trudy’s gonna have her a baby in three months’ time,” Russia went on. “Says if it’s a boy she’s namin’ him Paul, and if it’s a girl she’s namin’ her Sarah. Cody made the crib all by hisself. I seed it, and it’s real nice. Trudy— Trudy knitted baby blankets.” She laid her hand across her lower belly. “Them baby blankets is purty. Real soft and real purty.”
He heard the suspicious quiver in her voice and caught the fleeting sadness that crossed her face. “Russia? What’s the matter?”
Still dwelling on the upcoming birth of her new friend’s child, Russia realized Santiago had recognized her melancholy. “I— Can you believe I might go to church this comin’ Sunday, Santiago? I didn’t never believe I’d one day be able to set foot in a church and actually be welcomed. But Ben wants me to git some good Bible learnin’.”
“Why?” Santiago demanded, with a deep and sudden sense of foreboding.
“Ben wants him a good God-fearin’ wife. He asked me to marry him last night. Got down on his knees and ever’thing. I almost failed outta my chair.”
She smiled, thinking of how surprised she’d been by Ben’s proposal. He was such a nice man, she mused. She would turn him down in the gentlest way she could. Tapping her chin with her finger, she tried to think of a way to do just that.
Santiago felt as though his heart had dropped out of his chest and plummeted to the floor. It was painfully obvious to him that Russia had accepted Ben’s proposal. And if by some remote chance she hadn’t, she was certainly considering it. He had only to look at the smile on her face and the faraway look in her eyes to know that.
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