by Diana Palmer
She had asked if his family was Methodist, and he assured her that they were. But she noticed that he did not like to speak of his family and that he became irritated if she asked questions about them. He hated being that way. It was just that his guilt was ever-present. Even though they had grown closer together, he worried about her eventual reaction, because one day she would have to know who he was and who his people were.
Meanwhile, he discovered that she had suffered frequent mishaps as a child, and that despite being pampered, she had an adventurous spirit. He spoke little of his own childhood, except to recall that it had been boisterous and he and his brothers had been happy. He wanted to tell her everything, including how close he and King had been and the misadventures they had shared. One day, he promised himself, he would.
“You are very deep in thought,” she said.
Drawn out of his contemplation, he smiled at her across the table. “And you are very pretty,” he said, watching her brighten at the compliment. “And uncomfortable?” he probed delicately.
She was sitting stiffly, glancing around as if she were afraid someone might see her here, in a saloon.
“Cal, I have lived such a stuffy life,” she confessed, laughing. “You must make a few allowances for me.”
“You’re doing fine,” he said enthusiastically. “Except that you aren’t drinking that champagne. It’s the best they had. French, and of an excellent vintage.”
Often he came out with remarks like that. He knew things that should have been Greek to a working cowboy, like the fact that her hats came from Paris and what vintage a good wine, or champagne, was. He spoke quite intelligently about politics in the States and even overseas, and he was perfectly at home in the best restaurant in Beaumont, with table manners and charm that would have befitted royalty. He amazed Nora with his gifts. She had had no opportunity before to see how versatile he was, or how educated.
“I shouldn’t know that, should I?” he murmured, a little less reserved than usual. He laughed at her expression. “Well, I wasn’t always a cowboy,” he told her. “I’ve worked in oil fields and I’ve spent time in New York. I’ve even been overseas, over most of Europe, in fact, and not just when I was an army officer in Cuba.”
An officer! She hadn’t known that.
“An officer?” she ventured, hoping to draw him out.
“I thought I was going to be a career man. I enlisted ten years before the Spanish-American War, two years after I went off to college, when I was young and full of vinegar. I rose to the rank of colonel and mustered out after the war was over.”
She was too impressed to be able to hide it. The revelation was shocking to a woman who’d accepted that her husband was an uneducated cowboy.
He smiled at her lazily. “Would you have liked being the wife of a career officer, I wonder? It would have suited you, giving afternoon teas and entertaining dignitaries from Washington.”
She flushed. “I like the oil business just as much,” she said stoutly. “And I even enjoyed ranching, just at the last.”
“You lie beautifully,” he accused softly.
Her hand lifted the glass to her lips and she sipped it. It had been a long time since she’d tasted champagne. She’d forgotten how smooth and fragrant a good vintage was. Her eyes closed and she murmured with delight.
“An excellent bouquet, is it not?” he asked as he finished his glassful. “I have not had better since Paris.”
She was learning a lot about her mysterious husband. He was traveled and he had been an officer, so perhaps he was in long enough to have been given a pension. That would explain where he got the money to finance his oil well. But if he had gone to college, where had that money come from?
She looked around, frowning when she saw his crew. “Where is Mr. Pike?” she asked curiously, because she didn’t see him with the celebrants.
“God knows. He’s probably passed out and gone to his room.” He chuckled. “He’d better get back on his feet quick. It will take all of us to cap the damned thing.”
“I had forgotten that it would be necessary.”
“Yes, well, you can’t pipe oil that’s shooting up into the sky,” he mused.
“I did realize that,” she laughed. She let him fill her glass again, and she began to be more and more relaxed as she drank it.
Cal got quieter by the minute. He didn’t seem to be a violent man in his cups, but he looked at her in a dark, brooding way that was very exciting. After her second glass and his third, he stood up suddenly and took her by the hand.
“Time we left,” he said, sweeping up his hat. “Say good-night.”
She called her goodbyes to the men, who were a little too happy to notice, and followed Cal out into the night air.
He took her back to the boardinghouse, up the stairs and into the room they’d rented. But for once, he didn’t leave her to get ready for bed and then come in after she was asleep. He locked the door and proceeded to undress her, with all the lights on.
“You mustn’t!” she gasped, because it had been a long time indeed since he’d looked at her, and she was shy.
He laughed deep in his throat. “Do you want the lights out?” he chided.
“Well…yes!”
“All right, chicken.”
He turned out the gas lamps and then stumbled back to her in the darkness, laughing a little unsteadily.
“Cal, you said that we wouldn’t,” she began.
He pulled her to him and his mouth found hers. Even in his less than sober condition, he was tender and expert. She leaned into his tall body and felt his hands slide up to cup and caress her full breasts. She, too, was less than sober. He eased her down onto the bed and, between kisses, removed every stitch of clothing, first from her body, and then from his own. Then he proceeded to make her mindless with an uninhibited ardor that he’d never shown her before.
By the time he moved over her, she was totally receptive to him, her legs parted eagerly, her body lifting to accept the deep, slow, aching penetration of his.
He murmured something sharply and drew in his breath as he felt her absorb him in her warmth. He felt for her mouth in the darkness, and his breath jerked into her lips as he levered up and began to move on her taut body.
All at once, the abstinence and his need broke through the reserve he’d always shown her. He groaned harshly and his hands gripped her hips. He whispered things that brought the blood to his face, and suddenly there was a violence of passion in him that would have frightened her only months before. Now it kindled a heat that was startling in its suddenness and intensity.
He drove into her like a wild man, his hands touching her in ways he’d never touched her, his mouth on her breasts, on her lips, as he rolled over and back again with her body joined to his, pulling and pushing and dragging her against him until she was mindless with desire.
She pleaded with him for some relief from the agony of hunger he made her feel, her voice high-pitched and sobbing at the last.
He stopped, poised just above her, his breath coming quick and ragged while he waited.
“Please,” she sobbed, shivering as she tried to lift, to bring him back. “Oh…please…I can’t…live…if you stop!” she wailed.
He whispered to her, his voice a deep drawl in the silence of the room as he told her graphically what he meant to do. She whispered back, shocking things, provocative things. Her body arched slowly until her spine was strained, and she shivered as she felt him begin to lever down over her. She wished that she hadn’t wanted the lamps out, because she wanted to see his face. She wanted to see his eyes.
“No!” he said jerkily when she tried to engulf him. His hand caught her hip and stayed its movement. “No. Lie still.”
“I can’t!” she whispered desperately, gritting her teeth as the tension grew beyond bearing.
“You can,” he said into her mouth as he lifted again. “I’m going to take you breath by aching breath. Just…like…this.”
&nbs
p; “Oh, I want you,” she sobbed, clinging.
“Arch your hips to mine, very, very slowly,” he bit off. He eased down, stopped, listened to her sobbing breaths. He moved again. It was killing him, too, but he knew, as she didn’t yet, the violence of completion it was going to give them both.
“Cal,” she wept.
“Lift up,” he whispered. “Just a little, sweetheart, just a little. Wait, now. Don’t move.”
“Please,” she whimpered, shivering. “Oh, please!”
He felt her fingernails biting helplessly into his shoulders. He knew to the second when she was going to go over the edge, and when he felt her control go completely, he pushed down, as hard as he could.
There were no words for what she felt then. She cried out hoarsely, stiffened, and abruptly lost consciousness in a burst of hot pleasure that surpassed anything she’d ever experienced in her entire life.
Poised on the edge, Cal went over with her, his body clenching with anguished pleasure. He laughed harshly and groaned, his voice loud in her ears as he convulsed over her. It never seemed to end, the wash of helpless ecstasy that tensed and released, tensed and released, until he was one long throb of satiation.
Nora was gasping for breath when the spinning stopped and he could make his lungs work. Under him, her body was trembling and damp with sweat. He could feel the heat of it like a brand, and he smiled, exhausted. He couldn’t even move off her, for the exquisite fatigue he felt.
“Like dying,” he whispered drowsily. “Too much pleasure for even a saint to bear. So good, Nora, my darling. The sweetest sensation I’ve ever felt in my life!”
She clung to him, her face buried in his hot throat as she came back to awareness. He slumped, and she felt his breathing grow deep and steady. He had fallen asleep, but his weight was precious, delightful. She held him to her, her body still locked to his intimately, and after a minute, she, too, fell asleep.
SOMETIME DURING THE NIGHT, they had separated and gotten under the covers. Cal woke up first when the light came in the window, groaning as he felt the size of his head. Only three glasses of champagne, but they had been big glasses and on an empty stomach. He tried to sit up and took two tries managing it.
He moved, aware of a faint soreness that carried more than a trace of remembered pleasure. His eyes turned to the other side of the bed and he went very still.
Nora was lying beside him, totally naked, with the sheet thrown off and her body open to his eyes. He had had her in the night. It took no second-guessing to know it. She was smiling in her sleep, and when he moved, her body writhed sensuously, as if in memory of the explosive culmination he’d given them both.
His first, terrifying thought was that there could be a child. He was obviously fertile, and what they had shared, even with the alcohol to enhance it, had been unique in his experience. He could not remember one single encounter that had dealt him such a devastating climax.
She stirred again, and her eyes opened slowly. They met his and she went scarlet.
“You should blush,” he said in a stern tone. Then he smiled wickedly. “My God!”
Her hand grabbed for the sheet and dragged it up to her chin. Over it, her horrified wide blue eyes met his.
“You did it!” she accused. “You got me drunk and seduced me! It wasn’t my fault!”
“I didn’t really mean to, you know,” he defended himself weakly. “But all that champagne…”
She clutched the sheet tighter. “I shall follow that woman’s footsteps and take an ax to the saloon today without fail,” she assured him. “Now that I have truly experienced the evils of drink.”
He quirked an eyebrow in her direction. “Did you say ‘evils’? You didn’t seem to think so last night,” he pointed out.
She went absolutely scarlet and her eyes fell. “I have never had more than a small glass of wine in my life until last night,” she began in self-defense.
“Oh, I have no quarrel with your behavior, Nora. In fact, it tempts me to send out for several cases of champagne,” he mused as he watched her.
“You roué!” she gasped.
He tugged the sheet out of her hands and rolled her into his arms. “Admittedly,” he murmured as he eased her down on the bed and his mouth found hers. In no time at all, her weak struggles ceased and she clung to his strength.
He lifted his head and searched her soft eyes. “I tried to spare you the hardship of another pregnancy,” he began.
She put her fingers over his mouth. “I am strong now,” she assured him, her eyes bright and happy. “And I would very much like to…feel again the way you made me feel in the darkness of the night,” she whispered.
“So would I,” he said hungrily. He threw off the sheet and bent again to her mouth. “If a child comes of it, God knows, I shall not mind,” he whispered ardently. And then he said nothing more for a long, long time.
THE WELL WAS CAPPED without Pike, who had apparently vanished into thin air. Cal, sensing trouble, went to see the local constable in Beaumont and explained the situation. The other officers were alerted to watch out for the man, but he did not appear. On a hunch, Cal went to the office of the new lawyer in town who had been friendly with Pike, but the office was closed, and no definite time stated for the return of its occupant.
“I can’t find Pike,” Cal told Nora when he returned to the cabin later. He scowled. “I don’t like the look of things. He was good at his job and came highly recommended. Now I feel much less confident about him.” He stared at her across the table. They were eating a light supper. “You never liked him. I should have trusted your instincts.”
“I’m not so trustworthy,” she said with a smile. “I didn’t like you at first.”
His eyes softened on her pretty face. “I found you enchanting,” he said. “Pretty and spirited, and very much on your dignity. After a while, I could think of nothing except you.”
She reached out and traced her fingers over the back of his hand. “You’re not sorry that you were forced into marriage?” she asked.
His hand turned and captured hers. “I love you,” he said gently, and his eyes looked straight into hers. “Of course I’m not sorry.”
She flushed. It felt as if a bolt of lightning had entered her body. “What did you say?”
“That I love you,” he replied simply. He lifted her palm to his lips and kissed it hungrily. “How can you not know, after what we shared in our room the night of the celebration?”
“I know so little of men,” she admitted.
“Then let me reassure you that it is not quite a normal occurrence for a woman to faint and a man to sob like a child in the throes of ecstasy. Our experience was somewhat out of the ordinary.”
“I…thought so, but I had no way of knowing. Even in the past, when we were together, I had not felt quite so…so…complete,” she said finally.
He sighed, watching her lovingly. “And you, Nora?” he asked. “Is there some small part of you that still loves me, even after the pain I gave you?”
She looked shocked, and for a minute, he held his breath, waiting for her to speak. “Why, I have never stopped loving you,” she faltered. “I never shall.”
He held her hand to his cheek and closed his eyes in a surge of overwhelming joy. “Thank God,” he whispered.
“You silly man,” she laughed gently. “As if love can wear out on a man’s bad temper! As much as you growl when you are working, mine should have fled for the hills months ago!”
“I’m so glad that it didn’t,” he whispered. “Come here, darling.”
She got up, and he pulled her down onto his lap, kissing her until her head swam and his body made emphatic statements about its immediate needs.
“Yes,” she murmured against his mouth, and curled closer.
He stood up, with Nora in his arms, dazed enough to start toward the bed even though it was still light.
The sound of footsteps on the porch halted him. His head lifted toward the door and he s
tood there with his burden, disoriented.
The knock was hard. “Mr. Barton? There’s a man out here with some sort of legal paper. He wants to talk to you!”
“I’ll be right out!” Cal called back.
He eased Nora onto her feet and they exchanged worried glances.
“I bet this has something to do with Pike,” he said through his teeth.
He opened the door and stepped onto the porch, with a flushed Nora at his side.
The sheriff stood there, his badge bright against his suit coat, a folded paper in one hand. “Mr. Barton?” he asked, pausing just long enough to sweep off his hat and nod respectfully at Nora.
“Yes,” Cal confirmed.
“I’m Sheriff Culpepper.” They shook hands. “I have to serve you with this paper. It’s an enjoinment against your oil well there and prevents you from making any legal decisions until ownership of it is established in court.”
“I have no need to look at the signature to decide whose handiwork this is,” Cal said heavily. “Pike.”
“Mr. Pike and his attorney, Mr. Bean, met with the judge this morning to have the paper drawn up,” Sheriff Culpepper said. “Now, most of us in town know that you were the boss of the outfit and Pike was just an employee. But that lawyer has a way with words, and he’s about the nearest thing to a silver-tongued orator that anybody in these parts has ever seen. You want some advice, Mr. Barton? Get yourself the most expensive city lawyer you can afford. You’re going to need him. Good day, ma’am,” he added to Nora.
They watched him go out to his horse, mount it and ride away.
“Damn Pike!” Cal said angrily.
She took the paper from him and read it over. “Cal, what shall we do? With the well enjoined, we have no money, have we?”
He glanced down at her and smiled gently. “Don’t worry. I won’t let you starve.”
“It isn’t that, not at all, and you know it,” she said firmly. Her brow furrowed. “If I were to apologize to my father,” she added tightly, “perhaps he would be willing to send his own attorney out here—”
“You are not apologizing,” he said quietly. “Not ever. You did nothing to apologize for.”