by BJ James
A small leak in the dam she could deal with. A leak and a stiffened spine were an equal match. Comfort and tenderness could be her undoing. A deluge, with one pent-up emotion tumbling over another, and another, could be too much. Too much, too soon.
Going against every ingrained instinct, but certain he was right, Jefferson held himself apart. But not aloof. He could never be aloof where Marissa was concerned.
Black Jack whinnied, calling to the horses in the pasture. Drawn to the stallion, The Lady trotted away. Marissa's hand drifted to the splintered railing. As she clutched it, leather served as protection against stabbing splinters of wood.
The land was quiet. Only the stream, cleaving the lull as it cleaved the canyon, raced along its banks, babbling in whispers, catching light in ripples as it went. The canyon would be a canyon without water. But what it brought to the land made it a better place. As loving Jefferson made her a stronger woman. One who could do what she must, for all but herself.
The thought surprised her. She'd never seen her life in that light before. She'd seen only her own shortcomings. Condemned no one but herself for emotions she couldn't control.
"I grieved for both of us. For what we discovered too late and could never have. Then, there was guilt." Turning, with her back to the fence, her body nearly touching his, she looked up at him. Her eyes, normally unfathomable darkness, were spangled with light as they studied the lines of his face. "I spent years wallowing in guilt because I couldn't love Paulo. A good man, a man of old values, guided by old standards. Who with my parents, counted on Marissa Alexandra being the dutiful daughter as they denied her the most important choice a young woman can make. The man she would love and spend her life with.
"You asked me to stay." Tears threatened and were denied. "Like a fool, I didn't."
"Never a fool, sweetheart." Jefferson couldn't let her assume another burden. "You were what you were expected to be. Your father was desperate." He didn't know how desperate a father must be to do what Alexandre had done to Marissa. But it was too late to judge. "You made the choice any caring daughter would make, bearing the brunt of your father's mistaken business ventures and their need to sustain a lifestyle."
The perfect daughter. She'd used the words herself. Subconsciously condemning her shortcomings. What only she considered failures. This, Jefferson thought, explained decisions she'd made in the past, and the unwarranted blame.
"You weren't perfect, Marissa. But out of love you made selfless choices. Adams made the same sort of choices and bore the same sort of consequences for me."
Marissa wouldn't look at him. Instead, she stared down at the ground. Freed from its binding ribbon, the fall of her dark hair tumbled over her shoulder, veiling her face. He knew she was wrestling with the sense of what he was saying.
Sliding off his gloves, letting them drop where they would, Jefferson risked a touch. With a bare finger at her chin, he lifted her face to his. "In an act of love, you
married a man you didn't love. In another act of love, Adams took the blame for a blow I struck in a brawl I instigated. You both went to a prison of sorts, for someone you care for."
"Marriage to Paulo wasn't a prison, Jefferson." She wouldn't paint the marriage black to excuse herself.
"No?" His finger moved from her chin, skimming the line of her jaw to the sensitive spot at the corner of her mouth. At the slow caress, she shivered, but didn't speak or move away. Years had passed since he'd discovered the wonderful response. But a hundred more could pass before he forgot. ‘‘I suspect that if the two of you compared notes, you would find strong similarities. In some ways, Adams's prison offered more freedom."
"Don't make me a martyr. I never suffered in my marriage."
‘‘Perhaps not. But can you deny you were the sacrificial lamb on the altar of riches?"
She was silent. How could one argue with the truth?
Jefferson's knuckles moved over her lower lip, then her chin and the line her throat. Unfurling his fist, he stroked the base, measuring the rush of her heart in the tiny hollow. His voice was deeper when he spoke again. "Adams was deprived of his freedom, and I can never forgive myself for the years my senseless act of bravado and vengeance took from him. But even prison didn't take from Adams what marriage took from you."
Marissa understood, then, what she hadn't thought to consider before. Jefferson was speaking of her body. Of the mating of a husband and wife as expected within marriage. But her marriage to Paulo Rei was never based on normal expectations.
For that she was grateful to Paulo. No matter what else he wanted of her, none of it had been physical. In this bargain, he had been kinder and more generous than she'd expected.
Such a man deserved to be mourned by a celibate wife.
But Jefferson had been kind as well. He deserved the truth. Moving a little, only enough to break physical contact, she admitted what she'd once thought she would never speak of to anyone. "My marriage to Paulo wasn't that sort of arrangement. We were..." With the halting of a confession that would be shocking, she searched for the right words to make this easier. But, she discovered there were no such words. No easy way.
She had never lied to Jefferson. At the same time, she hadn't been as honest as she should have been. It was time he knew the truth. All of it. When her lashes lifted and her eyes sought his, he saw more pain than he'd ever seen before. "Paulo and I were never intimate. Our marriage was never consummated."
Nothing she could have said would have shocked him more. No man in his right mind who was married to a woman like Marissa would be content in a platonic relationship. "That's impossible."
With a shudder, he bit back his doubt. Marissa wouldn't lie about this. Which meant she wouldn't have lied to Paulo Rei either. "You told him about us, and the day in the swamp."
"Yes." She wouldn't equivocate about something as important as what she must tell Jefferson. "All he asked was who my lover had been. Then he confessed that during the time I had spent in Belle Terre, a medical condition caused him to be impotent. There couldn't be the sort of union and the children he'd planned, but he still wanted the marriage. With no recriminations, no demands and only one restriction—that there be no other lovers.
"The greatest surprise of all was that he offered to release me from the agreement completely and he would for- give my father's debt anyway." A shoulder lifted in regret. "But there was the matter of the questions and gossip. Perhaps a scandal I didn't want my mother to face. Then, there was my father's honor."
"Damn his honor!" Jefferson snarled. "What honor is there in any of this? Except yours, when you kept the agreement?"
Marissa's gaze held his, in her pale face, her eyes were bleak. "Haven't you done exactly the same sort of thing for your own father, Jefferson? Haven't you made costly sacrifices in pride and peace of mind for Gus Cade? Don't most children at some time in their lives? Tell me which of your brothers has not."
His anger died on his lips. How could he fault such courage and wisdom? He wouldn't spoil the time they had, brooding about time lost. "You're right. We won't speak of it again."
"Perhaps we should," Marissa began.
Though he wanted to hear the rest of what she had to say more than anything, with a finger at her lips, he stopped the revelation. "Listen. Someone has gotten past the guards."
With that warning, neither moved. In the dusty corral, with only the shuffle of restless horses breaking the quiet, Marissa strained to hear what Jefferson heard. At first, there were only the noises of the ranch. Then she could distinguish the sound of a car or a truck, negotiating the precarious incline into the canyon. Someone who was driving recklessly.
It was the scrape of metal against rock that captured Jefferson's reluctant attention. Reluctant only for that frozen instant. With a second scrape, he was galvanized into action. "Marissa, I want you to go to the bam."
"No." She had no intention of running for cover, leaving him to face whoever and w
hatever this was alone.
"I'll be fine." He'd caught a glimpse of the vehicle. "I recognize the car. It belongs to a friend. A very close friend, one I trust. But there's no need in taking a chance she's not alone." He turned her toward the barn. "You've only a minute and one more turn before we're visible from the road. Hurry."
Marissa hurried. Jefferson scaled the fence, and went to wait for Cristal Lane in front of the house.
"Hello, handsome." As Jefferson closed the door of Cristal's convertible, she rose on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.
"Hello, yourself, Miss Cristal." With a concerned check of her tires, he leaned against a glossy red fender a layer of dust couldn't dim. "What brings you so far from Silverton?"
"You make it sound as if it's been a long time since I came by to visit." A long red nail traced down his throat to his chest. "When I was here just..." Eyes as green as new, sweet grass laughed up at him. "Well, I was here sometime not so long ago."
"Three months ago," Jefferson supplied. "You were worried because I hadn't been into town in a while. Instead of celebrating your third twenty-ninth birthday with patrons of the saloon, you drove this wicked machine across Benedict land bringing your celebration to me. To find out how I was."
"Oh," Cristal said. "Can't a disreputable saloon keeper spend her own holiday with a friend without ulterior motives?"
"Yes, she can," Jefferson agreed reasonably. "But she shouldn't. Not when there are better opportunities in town."
Slender shoulders moved in an elegant shrug. A coil of windblown auburn hair fell over her cheek. "Maybe I'm not looking for opportunities. If I were, name me one in Silverton."
Jefferson raised an incredulous brow. He could name a half dozen or more. And one in particular, who didn't know yet quite what to think of this supposedly shady lady whose heart was pure, bigger than the world, and twice as tender. "So," he said, "I take it you were worried again."
"Okay." Color flooded Cristal's tawny cheeks, turning green eyes greener. Exasperated that she was so transparent, she threw up her hands. "You got me, handsome. Billy said you'd been home for a visit. I wondered how it went."
"How would you expect it to go?" Billy had done his work well. The surprise was that he'd chosen Cristal, the one person in Silverton least likely to gossip. Especially about Jefferson Cade. "Or did Billy tell you that, too."
"Okay, so Billy Blackhawk didn't tell me anything." Cristal came to lean against the car beside him. "The truth is the great Apache hardly acknowledges me with more than a scowl. You'd think I was the prerequisite fallen woman and he the dedicated sheriff waiting for a reason to run me out of town."
Jefferson chuckled and ruffled her tousled, auburn mane even more. As the chuckle grew into a laugh, he threw an arm around her shoulders and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. "Last time I looked Billy was only half Apache and he was sheriff of Silverton. I don't think either's due to change anytime soon."
"Half Apache by blood. All Apache in mind-set. He's hated me since I came to town. Stubborn, too gorgeous for his own good..." Cristal searched for proper castigation. When it escaped her, she sighed. "... bullheaded, gorgeous creature."
Jefferson laughed. "When are you two going to decide what you're going to be when you grow up?''
"Decide?" Cristal scowled at her favorite friend. "What's to decide? We hate each other. It's in the genes. The age old clash of the stalwart lawman and the bawdy lady."
"You're repeating yourself. Same song, second verse." He stroked her hair, taming it. ' 'If you and Billy hate each other, I hope someone hates me as much some day." The comment was tongue-in-cheek and utterly serious. "Not Billy, of course."
An elbow in his ribs took his breath away. Cristal muttered, "That was a dumb thing to say."
"Which part," he asked when he could speak again.
"All of it." With an exasperated gesture, Cristal raked a hand through her hair, undoing Jefferson's taming.
"Ah. You're that sure, are you?"
"As sure as my name is...well, what it is."
Jefferson chuckled then. "Tell me that when you two finally decide if you're going to be friends, foes, or lovers."
"That's a no brainer. I just finished saying our magnificent Blackhawk has absolutely no use for me. Or I for him."
"Perhaps the gentleman protests too much. And the lady."
Cristal stared at him. "You've gotta be kidding." Another look turned into a frown. "You're not kidding."
Recognizing a lost cause, Jefferson shifted subjects. "What I'm doing is wondering what really brought you here."
"Belle Terre, like I said. Jasper and Billy were talking in the post office about your trip. I eavesdropped."
‘‘Ah.'' If Billy wanted word of his supposed trip to Belle Terre to filter through the territory, Jasper Hill, veteran postmaster, inveterate gossip, was the one to do it. "I suppose Jasper decided that's why my mail was accumulating."
"Actually, he was wondering why your brother, Adams, would be writing you here while you were visiting him there."
"If Jasper's reading postmarks, he needs more to do."
"Billy told Jasper he would bring the mail out later this evening. After Billy left, I decided it was time I took an afternoon and evening off to visit my favorite lowlander.
So, here I am, Silverton's newest mail deliverer. Or something."
"So now you've seen I'm in one piece and healthy and you're still lingering. Something else on your mind, Cristal?"
"I'm waiting to be introduced to your lady friend."
"My what?"
"Your lady friend. The tall brunette who dashed to the barn as I came down the grade. You might also explain the good-looking cowhand patrolling the road by the rim of the canyon. I know all Sandy's men, remember. Almost as well as Sandy."
"With your hell-for-leather driving, I'm surprised you see anything but dust." He was stalling. Cristal was too sharp and he didn't know how to explain. He chose diversion, while he gathered his thoughts. "How did you get past the new cowhand? Why would you think he's patrolling the canyon rim?"
Cristal's green gaze flashed to Jefferson's, seeking answers in their shuttered depths. "Why else would he stop me, asking what business I had on Benedict range, or the Broken Spur?"
"So, you showed him the mail, claiming to be the carrier."
"Well, yes." Her shoulders lifted again in a "what else could I do?" sort of twitch. "Isn't that what I am, today?"
"Today and the only day," Jefferson observed dryly. "But I see it worked. He let you pass."
"Well," Cristal drawled, hedging more than a little.
"Let me guess, Ethan didn't let you pass."
"Ah, so that was Ethan." Her face brightened. "I'd seen him in town, always going or coming from Billy's office. But then, cowhands are always in and out of there, resolving one problem or another. I didn't know until today that he worked for the Rafter B. I must say the name fits. He certainly looks like an Ethan, all stern and broody. And when he gets here, I suppose, angry."
"In other words, with the accelerator on the floor, you left Ethan in the dust." Jefferson wanted to shake her for being so foolhardy. "You could've been shot."
Cristal's laugh was low and husky. "No one shoots the local bawdy lady, especially when she offers to share the cookies she's brought to a friend."
For the second time in less than a very few minutes, the sound of an engine rent the usual peace of the canyon. ''Ah, that's surely Ethan, now." She was smiling in anticipation of a good row with a handsome, dangerous man. "He must've had a vehicle stashed somewhere out of sight. Quicker than a horse, no doubt.
"Why don't you run along to the barn and fetch your guest. Then when Ethan finally makes it down the incline, we can have lemonade and cookies while you both explain."
Jefferson was moving away from Cristal's car, ready to greet another visitor. When he recognized the truck that traveled only a little more carefully than she had, he laughed, though grimly. "I ha
te to tell you this, Miss Cristal, but I think you're the one who has some explaining to do."
"For visiting an old friend? For bringing cookies? Surely Ethan will understand. Or he will when he takes his first bite." Cristal had come to join Jefferson in the dirt track that served as the road. Now she stopped short as she recognized the truck.
"Oh dear," she muttered. "I don't believe that's Ethan."
"Somehow, I don't either. Not with a star on the door."
"Oh dear," Cristal had time to say again before the truck skidded to a halt. Dust was still billowing like smoke around them, when the door opened, then slammed shut, and a dark-haired, grim-faced golden-eyed giant bore down on them.
"'Oh dear' is right, sweet Cristal." Sarcasm dripped from Billy Blackhawk's greeting. If it could be called a greeting. Stopping before her, with barely a glance or a nod for Jefferson, massive hands fisted on his hips he glared down at her. "Well?"
Billy was known as a man of monumental patience. A man who never seemed to hurry, even when he did. Part Apache and all stoic, he rarely revealed either anger or frustration. Today was obviously an exception. In the rare times he flashed his attractive, but genuine smile, his teeth gleamed in contrast to his naturally dark skin. The dimples that smile revealed were intriguing, at odds with his magnificent, rough-hewn features.
As he stood toe-to-toe with her there was no monumental patience, or any patience at all. There was no smile, no dimples. If he was forever stoic, forever didn't include this day.
Offering her best smile in place of his, one that brought most men to their knees, Cristal looked up and up. From the button in the center of his shirt, to broad shoulders and a stubborn chin, to dark eyes blazing gold fire. What she saw in that beautiful glare made her smile wobble. Obviously Billy Blackhawk wasn't most men. With a touch of bravado and her own hands resting at her own hips, she drawled, "Well, what, Blackhawk?"
"Why the hell are you here?" Billy never cursed. Never.
Jefferson's brows shot up, but he stayed neutral and out of the fray. From where he stood, despite the disparity in size, they were evenly matched opponents.