Wildstar

by Nicole Jordan

  As if he knew precisely the effect he was having on her, Devlin smiled. Not the charming, seductive grin he had perfected to an art. This one was cool, aloof, and more than a little arrogant. When she stared, he inclined his head at her briefly, almost insolently, in recognition. Jess's heart sank. Devlin didn't look at all as if he were in love with her. In fact, he looked downright disinterested. She heard the Denver capitalist say something to her, but she could no more have responded than she could have moved one of the Rocky Mountains.

  The next half hour was pure torture for Jess; she was nervous, restless, anxious, and scared. When a waiter prof­fered a tray loaded with glasses of champagne, she ac­cepted one and drained it more quickly than was wise. The fizzing wine gave her false courage and filled her with the desire to do something wild and reckless. By the time Ashton Burke found her again, she had regained a measure of bravado.

  "I should be honored if you would help open the danc­ing. Oh, not with me," Burke said with a smile when she started to take his arm. "I fear etiquette demands I partner the plump Mrs. Greely. I have someone else in mind for you."

  He took her elbow and lead her straight to the crowd gathered around Devlin. Jess almost balked when she real­ized what Burke intended, but her pride kept her from pulling away. That and the knowledge that if she and Dev­lin were going to have a reconciliation, it would be up to her.

  His unsmiling features gave her no encouragement as he stared coolly down at her.

  "Mr. Devlin, my I present a lovely partner for the waltz?" Burke asked.

  She thought for a minute that he might refuse, but in­stead Devlin inclined his head. "It would be my pleasure."

  Burke left them alone then, and an awkward silence de­scended between them. When Devlin politely offered his arm to lead her out onto the floor. Jess nervously took it. She felt a muscle jump beneath her touch, which heartened her a bit; maybe Devlin wasn't as unaffected by her as he pretended.

  Other couples began gathering around them in prepara­tion for the dance, but Jess scarcely noticed as they stood waiting for the music to begin. She was only aware of the stunningly handsome man beside her who was treating her like a stranger.

  Gazing up into wood-smoke gray eyes, she falteringly began her rehearsed speech. "Riley says that maybe . . . that he thinks . . . I may have judged you too harshly."

  "Indeed?"

  His tone was curt, cool, unforgiving. She swallowed. Devlin wasn't making this the least bit easy for her. "He also said . . . I should talk to you about it."

  Devlin's penetrating gaze stabbed her. "Is this an apol­ogy?"

  "No. Yes . . . I mean . . . I just wanted you to know . . . if you have anything to say about what happened, I'll lis­ten."

  He pressed his lips together in a tight line. "That's very generous of you, Miss Jess, but I have nothing to say."

  The orchestra struck up the chords of a waltz, but nei­ther she nor Devlin moved.

  "You aren't going to tell me why you were kissing her?" Jess asked in a trembling voice.

  "That depends." He eyed her coolly. "If you've already made up your mind about me, there's no point in discuss­ing it."

  "No . . . I haven't made up my mind."

  There was a long moment of silence while Devlin seemed to deliberate her answer. His gray eyes were shad­owed with emotion, but it wasn't anger she saw in them now. Oddly, it was vulnerability and a certain wariness.

  Suddenly he grasped her hand and turned on his heel, pulling a startled Jess behind him.

  Ignoring the curious looks of the guests and servants alike, he led her through the whirling dancers, off the crowded floor, out of the room, and along the hall. Finally he pushed her into a large, dimly lit chamber that looked like a library.

  Trying to catch her breath, Jess turned in time to see Devlin rotating the key in the lock. Facing her, he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the door.

  Devlin's stance was more an effort at control than bel­ligerence, though. The fear running through him was pal­pable. The interminable weeks of frustration and uncertainty while he'd waited for Jess to make up her mind about him had culminated in this single moment, when his future, his entire chance at happiness, would likely be decided.

  Yet nearly as strong as fear was desire. After weeks of denial, the mere sight of Jess had made his blood hot. That gown she was wearing showed a provocative amount of her splendid figure. Her naked, scented shoulders, the hint of luxurious cleavage, the knowledge that the layers of skirts hid a pair of long silken legs, all were driving him crazy. He'd grown hard just watching her.

  "If you expect me," Devlin managed to say evenly, "to discuss my reasons for what happened, you're going to have to tell what set you off that last time."

  "I should think that would be obvious."

  "Tell me anyway."

  He was going to make her humble her pride, Jess real­ized. "Well, I . . . I was jealous."

  The tightness in Devlin's features visibly relaxed. "Why?"

  "Well . . ." Unable to meet his gaze any longer, Jess looked down at the floor and began twisting her fingers to­gether. "I just didn't want you kissing her, that's all."

  "Why?"

  He wasn't going to give up, evidently, until she con­fessed. Jess took a deep breath. "Because . . ." Her voice dropped to a miserable whisper. "Because . . . I love you."

  Until she'd said the words, Devlin hadn't realized how desperately he'd needed them, wanted them. The cold fear inside him dissipated. His heart seemed to swell and melt with tenderness all at the same time. And yet he didn't in­tend to let Jess off the hook quite so easily. "Say it louder, angel. I couldn't hear you."

  Lifting her chin, Jessica suddenly glared at him. "I love you, all right? And I couldn't stand seeing you kiss that woman. It hurt. I thought that if you were kissing her, you couldn't possibly care for me."

  "Did you ever stop to consider how you hurt me every time you accused me of having base motives?"

  "Well, I'm sorry. I was wrong, I admit it! Now are you satisfied?"

  Devlin cocked his head. "No."

  Jess looked at him in frustration. "What do you want from me, a pint of blood?"

  "Your trust would be adequate, darlin'," Devlin said wryly.

  "I . . . I trust you."

  "Then you believe me when I say the kiss I gave Lena was entirely innocent?"

  "I . . ." Jess couldn't bring herself to swallow that much. "It didn't look that way to me."

  "That's what trust is, Jessica. Believing in someone on faith, even if all the evidence points to the contrary."

  Having no defense, she remained miserably silent. It was true, she hadn't trusted Devlin. She'd always assumed the worst about him, never even giving him the benefit of the doubt.

  "I see I'm going to have to teach you the difference be­tween kisses of passion and kisses of friendship," Devlin said finally.

  Pushing himself from the door, he strode toward her. There was little gentleness in his fingers when he gripped her upper arms and pulled her against him. His lips, when they descended, were hot and fierce, his tongue thrusting and hard. His sensual assault sent Jess's senses reeling.

  His withdrawal was just as abrupt. "That's how I kiss a woman I want. The chaste peck I gave Lena meant abso­lutely nothing."

  "You w-want me?" Jess asked, shaking.

  "More than I've ever wanted anything in my life," Dev­lin said solemnly.

  "That's . . . all she is to you? A friend?"

  "That's all."

  Jess closed her eyes as a vast relief swept through her. Weakly she leaned against Devlin, burying her nose in the curve of his shoulder. He smelled clean and masculine, with a hint of citrus shaving cologne.

  "I thought you didn't want me," she murmured.

  Devlin gave a sharp laugh as he rested his chin on her tawny hair. "You stubborn, infuriating hellcat. How could you possibly think that? I haven't been able to keep my hands off you since we met."

&n
bsp; "That isn't true. For the past month you haven't even spoken to me, much less touched me."

  "Which is your fault entirely. If you hadn't jumped to the wrong conclusion again, we could have been enjoying each other all this time. Instead, you caused us both misery.

  She lifted her head to give him a searching look. "Were you really miserable?"

  The comer of his mouth kicked up in amusement as, in reply, he took her hand and guided it to the stiff bulge in his trousers. "As miserable as a man can get."

  "Oh," Jessica said, color rising to her cheeks.

  Still smiling, Devlin bent to kiss her bare throat. Jess's blood temperature shot up an instant ten degrees. His se­ductive touch vividly reminded her of how much she had missed him, how much she had ached for him to do just this to her. When his mouth moved lower, to her bosom, and his tongue shot out to trace hot little circles on the swells of her breasts, Jess's knees nearly buckled beneath her. "D-Devlin . . ." she moaned.

  "Damn, but I'd like to find a bed."

  "Me . . . too."

  His chuckle was a breathy rasp against her skin. "Didn't anyone ever tell you you're not supposed to go to bed with a man who isn't your husband, Miss Jess?"

  "My mother told me . . . but she didn't even take her own advice."

  "If it weren't for the throng of guests on the other side of this door, I'd take you right here. You've never made love standing up."

  Her passion-hazed eyes widened in surprise as he lifted his head. "Can you really do it that way?"

  His seductive smile was wickedness itself. "There are countless ways, angel, and I want to show you every one."

  Her heart tumbled over itself at his remark. "Oh, Dev­lin."

  "Call me Garrett. And stop looking at me that way, sweetheart. My control is tenuous enough as it is without your beautiful eyes begging me to bury myself inside you."

  "You . . . think I have beautiful eyes?"

  "God, yes. And you look gorgeous in that gown. The only thing I'd like better than seeing you in that gown is seeing you out of it. But I suppose I'll have to restrain my­self. A score of people saw us leave, and your reputation is already on shaky ground. If I were to do what I'd like to do to you, I'd no doubt have to deal with both Riley and Burke—and two irate fathers are a little more than I want to tackle at once. One of them is going to come look­ing for you any minute now, I expect. And in any case, you and I need to get a few things straight first."

  "Like what?"

  "Like where we go from here."

  "Riley says"—Jess hesitated shyly—"that you're think­ing about . . . settling down."

  "Does he? Riley's a smart man."

  Jess suddenly grew interested in the top button of Dev­lin's waistcoat. "He said . . . maybe you might want a wife."

  "That's a distinct possibility. But I doubt you would be interested in the position." When Jess raised her anxious gaze to his, Devlin cocked an eyebrow. "You'd have to take me as your husband then, and I could never manage to measure up to your standards. No man could. They're damn near sainthood."

  His tone was teasing, but his expression was entirely se­rious; Jess didn't know whether to be relieved or dis­traught. "I don't want a saint for a husband," she mumbled.

  "Well, then, there's the matter of my bank account. First I was too poor for you. Then I was too rich."

  Squirming, Jess could barely meet his penetrating gaze. "I never objected to your being poor. It's just that I thought you were a good-for-nothing gambler."

  "So now I'm a good-for-nothing moneybags." His eyes narrowed. "You've got to get over this obsessive idea that rich men are all alike, Jessica. We're not—any more than all poor men are alike."

  "I know that . . . now."

  "And if you'd think about it, you would realize it isn't power and wealth you object to, but the misuse of power and wealth."

  "I know. I have thought about it, Devi—Garrett. I admit that I might have misjudged you—"

  "You might have?"

  "All right, I did misjudge you. Just because you're wealthy doesn't mean you're like Burke."

  "Thank you," Devlin said dryly.

  "No, I mean it. You aren't anything like him."

  "In one respect, I am. I make money for a living. If you can't accept that, then we have a problem. I don't see any need for me to slave away at manual labor for a mere pit­tance."

  "I can accept it."

  "And you're going to learn to trust me?"

  "Yes," Jess said in a small voice.

  He put a finger under her chin, keeping her from avoiding his gaze. "I want your promise. I don't care what the situation is, if I do something you don't like, you talk to me first before you go off half-cocked. Do we have a deal?"

  "Yes . . . yes, I promise."

  He smiled then and bent his head, giving her a kiss that held such tenderness it nearly shattered her soul. Jess clung to him for support, even after their lips had parted.

  "Oh, Garrett . . . I do love you so."

  "I'm glad you finally admitted it, sweetheart." Holding her gaze, he moved his hands to lightly frame her face, his thumbs tracing delicate circles along her cheekbones. "And since you have, I don't mind telling you that the feeling is entirely mutual."

  Jess's heart seemed to stand still. "You . . . mean it? You love me?"

  "I mean it, sweetheart. I've been waiting for a damned month—"

  His words were nearly drowned out when a tremendous commotion sounded from outside in the hall. Both Devlin and Jess wanted to ignore the intrusion, but the shouts didn't die down, and the sound of running feet seemed ominous.

  Reluctantly Devlin pulled away. "We'd better see what's going on."

  Jess could have screamed in frustration at the untimely interruption. She ached to know what Devlin had been about to tell her. He'd said he wanted her, that— incredulously—he even loved her. But did that mean he wanted her enough to marry her? Enough to overlook her shortcomings and the awful way she'd treated him in the past? Enough to give up that Lena woman as his mistress? Or did he merely want her as a replacement for Lena in his bed?

  But all her anxious questions would have to wait, Jess realized when Devlin had turned the key in the lock and opened the door to the hall. Men and women in evening attire were frantically rushing past.

  Above the din, though, Jess could make out what one man was yelling.

  "Fire! Fire! The Plume is burning! Silver Plume's on fire."

  Chapter 22

  By the time Jessica and Devlin managed to push their way through the crowd and out the front door, they could hear a fire bell ringing, giving the alarm. Up the canyon, in the distance, a faint glow lit up the night sky.

  "Dear God," Jess breathed. She started to tremble, but it had nothing to do with the chill breeze attacking her bare shoulders.

  "It looks bad," Riley added fearfully as he came up be­hind her. "We've got to get home, Jessie."

  "We have to find a carriage first," Devlin responded grimly.

  He dragged off his coat and threw it around Jess's shoulders, then grabbed her hand and pulled her along through the frantic crowd. People were running in six dif­ferent directions, searching for loved ones and transporta­tion amid the tangle of horses and vehicles that had suddenly packed the residential street.

  The terror that the shouted word "Fire!" struck in the hearts of Westerners was well earned, Jess knew. Most towns lacked the adequate resources to fight a blaze of any magnitude. And while Georgetown had its own volunteer fire department and an efficient waterworks, Silver Plume had only one major source of water—Clear Creek—and no equipment to speak of. Bucket brigades would have to bat­tle the blaze until the Georgetown fire companies, with their hand-drawn carts and lengths of fire hose, could make it up the hill to help.

  With the ominous glow on the horizon, however, Jess was deathly afraid that Georgetown's rescue would be too late.

  Thankfully, Devlin managed to appropriate a carriage quickly—a closed brougham
that doubtless belonged to one of Burke's guests. He shoved Jess and her father in­side and climbed up in the driver's seat, taking the reins from an astonished groom. Just as he started to whip up the pair of bays, though, Ashton Burke came running to­ward them.

  "I'm accompanying you!" Burke shouted, and grabbed for the door.

  Devlin waited only long enough for Burke to climb in­side before springing the horses.

  Jess hung on tightly as the carriage lurched and swayed, while her lips move in a fervent litany, "Please, please, please . . ." Across from her, Burke sat in grim si­lence. Next to her, Riley leaned out the window, watching the rocky canyon wall streak past. It was highly danger­ous, racing through the darkness along the narrow road in the wake of dozens of other vehicles, but Jess had faith that Devlin would get them through in one piece.

  He slowed only when Silver Plume was in sight. From the carriage window, Jess could see the conflagration in the east end of town. It was roaring out of control through the densely packed wood-frame commercial dis­trict. Already the acrid smoke and heat were so intense she almost choked.

  "What shall we do?" Jess asked her father anxiously, wondering if they should try to save any of their belong­ings from their home or boardinghouse.

  "Better try to stop the fire first," Riley answered brusquely. "We won't have time to save much anyway if it gets as far as our place. And about the only thing that can't be replaced are the pictures of your ma. I won't let anything happen to those."

  Burke, wincing at the reference to Jenny Ann, leaped down from the carriage. Riley and Jess followed with Devlin, heading toward the fire. When they reached Main Street, they could see that a line of men had formed to haul leather buckets from the creek, but dozens of others milled about helplessly. Taking charge, Burke began shout­ing orders and organizing the stragglers into another line.

  Jess would have pitched in, but Devlin stopped her.

  "You help with the women and children! Get them out of here and keep them calm."

  Wishing she could do more, Jess nodded obediently and caught the hand of a sobbing boy, leading him to a safer place down the street.