by Shirl Henke
Lissa sat down by Johnny and began stripping off his covers and then his clothes until he wore only his napkin. Talking soft baby talk to him, she elicited a gurgle. Johnny was delighted with the attention. She felt his blanket. "This is damp. I'll put it near the fire to dry. I'm glad Clare packed the other bedding in oilskins." Holding the nearly naked infant in her arms, she approached the fireplace, where bright orange tongues of flame were beginning to illuminate the small bare cabin with a warm glow.
Jess looked up at her. "Other bedding? What the hell were you planning, Lissa? You said something about our needing to settle things." He looked at her suspiciously.
"A picnic," she said with a theatrical sigh. Camella was not the only actress in Wyoming. "If you unfasten that bedroll you'll find the blanket I was going to spread under the big cottonwood down by the creek."
He stood up and did as she suggested, trying not to gaze on the wriggling infant in her arms. "The baby's blanket isn't the only thing we need to dry out," he said with a savage undertone in his voice. "If we stay in these clothes, we'll catch pneumonia." He looked her in the eye accusingly. "You planned this."
"Certainly. I'm such a spoiled little rich girl, even the weather obeys me!" She rolled her eyes. "Actually, I really did set out for a picnic." She pointed to the basket. "Here, hold Johnny and I'll get everything in order." Without giving him a chance to refuse, she thrust his son into his arms.
Jess held the kicking infant as if he were made of china—very slippery china. "I'd forgotten how little they were. . . ." he whispered in an awe-filled voice as he inspected Johnny's fingers and toes, then studied the tiny face with its big bright eyes.
Lissa continued wiping off the table and then set the basket of goodies on it, all the while watching Jess enraptured with his son. Finally, she broke the silence. "You hold him as if you'd had practice." There was so much she did not know about Jesse Robbins.
"I used to watch Jonah for our ma."
"He's at your ranch," she said almost accusingly.
Jess continued studying Johnny. "Yes. He runs it for me while I'm off on jobs."
"What's he like? Jonah." She was pleased that he seemed willing to talk.
"Nothing like me. He's the white Robbins. Yellow hair and light skin. Looks like our pa." Just then Johnny let out a squall and began to gnaw hungrily on one tiny fist. "I think he's worked up an appetite."
He faced her, holding out the baby. As the storm raged outside, they stared into each other's eyes, the crying baby between them. Lissa felt the heat from the fireplace, but knew the fire in her blood roared more fiercely than the flames in the hearth. She took Johnny from him and began to unfasten her blouse with clumsy fingers. The wet cloth made the buttons stick. She could not undo them one-handed.
"Let me help," he said thickly, reaching out and slipping the buttons through the loops with sure, strong fingers.
She looked down at his hands, so slim and graceful. The heat rushed over her in swift, terrible waves, pooling low in her belly. "You said we should remove these clothes before we catch our death."
He pulled a chair near the fire. Lissa sat on it and put Johnny to her breast. Instantly his fussing stopped as he nursed greedily. She felt the flush scalding her cheeks as Jess watched the intimacy. Not daring to meet his eyes, she closed hers, letting the bliss flow over her in waves as the baby's hungry mouth pulled on her nipple, suckling it the same way his father had so many times. The way she wanted him to touch her again. I'm as greedy as my son.
When she opened her eyes and looked up, Jess was staring raptly. They communicated silently as rain and wind lashed the small shelter. Slowly, ever so slowly, he reached out and touched the baby's head with one hand, caressing the silky black hair. A tingling shiver ran down Lissa's spine. His other hand lighdy brushed her loose blouse away from her other breast, then gently cupped the swollen globe until she emitted a low gasp of startled pleasure.
"So long. It's been so long, Jess." The fury of the storm carried away the sound of her voice, but he understood.
With patient hands he caressed her as she held the nursing infant. Leaning her back against the chair, he unplaited her hair and spread the dark, cherry-red waves over her shoulders, combing the thick, satiny hair with his fingers, gently massaging her scalp.
Still cradling her head in his hands, he leaned over her from behind the chair and kissed her forehead. His lips blazed with the heat of the fire as they moved lower, brushing her thick lashes and caressing her closed eyes, her cheekbones, then
nuzzling an ear. His tongue flicked inside the tiny shell, and she shivered with pleasure. He did the same to her other ear and moved to her throat.
She reached up with her free hand and brushed back the lock of straight inky hair that fell over his forehead, then touched his cheek tenderly. When he stepped around and knelt beside the chair, she traced the harsh beauty of his face with her fingertips. He moved near her naked breast, daring to claim what his son had not already taken.
One touch of his tongue circling the nipple led her to cry out his name. As the baby finished his meal and lay back, dozing off contentedly in the heat, Jess continued his attention, teasing and tasting. "Sweet, so sweet, Lissa," she heard him murmur near her heart.
Her hand circled his nape, pulling him closer. His arms now encircled her and the infant with such gentleness that it made tears sting beneath her eyelids. Then he lowered his head to Johnny and kissed his forehead reverently. "Lissa, I love you both," he whispered so softly that she had to strain to hear the agonized confession over the noise of the storm.
Jess stood up on shaky legs and took the dozing baby from her, loosely fitting the dried blanket over him as Lissa rose. "Let me change him so he can go to sleep," she said.
Cormac watched with curiosity as she moved across the small space to the bed, where Jess had laid out the blanket. She placed Johnny on it, then took the pack with clean baby clothes from Jess. In a few moments she had their son ready for bed. Jess placed the carefully wrapped infant on the top bunk and braced the saddle packs around him so he could not roll off the bed. The dog settled himself back in the corner and went to sleep after Johnny quieted.
When Jess turned to his wife, she stood beside him, holding her blouse and chemise in front of her, her eyes liquid gold, fathomless. "Love me, Jess." She mouthed the words silently, and silently he obeyed, guiding her to sit on the lower bunk. He knelt and pulled off her boots and stockings. Then his hands moved up to her waist, and he unfastened her riding skirts and slid them over her hips, pulling her pantalets with them until she lay naked on the narrow bunk, her skin pale against the dark blanket.
He ran his hands softly across her belly, marveling at its concave flatness, imagining how she must have looked, great with his child. His fingertips grazed the points of her nipples until she arched up from the bed. Her arms reached out, pulling him down over her for a fierce, sealing kiss. As their mouths brushed and devoured hungrily, she ripped frantically at the buttons of his shirt until it was free. Tugging it from his denims, she peeled it down his arms without breaking the rapacious kiss.
Jess threw the shirt away, then left the sweet fire of her lips to stand up. His eyes locked on her face as he stripped away the rest of his clothes. She watched the firelight gild his lean, dark body a marvelous, glistening bronze. Her fingers ached to touch the beautiful symmetrical patterns of black hair that covered his chest and tapered down, only to bloom where his sex stood straining, erect.
When he neared the bed, she sat up and took his staff in her hand and stroked it, feeling him tremble. Her other hand slid down his scarred thigh, then moved back to cup one hard buttock. With a feral growl, he removed her hand and climbed onto the bed, covering her body with his own. Their mouths rejoined greedily.
His hand tangled in her hair, holding her head as his tongue plunged deep into her mouth. He felt her hands pressing against his back, gliding up and down, as she opened her slim, silky thighs and scissored his hips
between them.
Her cries were muffled against his mouth as he reached down and touched the wet heat of her. She was as slick as satin and he groaned, anticipating what was to come, forcing himself to roll to his side and wait until his passion came under control. He wanted nothing on earth as much as to plunge deeply within her and find the soaring bliss of release. But it would be no good unless she felt it too. So he held himself teetering on the edge, kissing her breasts, her throat, her face, relearning every curve and hollow of her body. And realized that he had never forgotten a single inch of it.
Lissa could feel the thudding of his heart as he caressed her. Her own heart beat like a mad thing ready to explode within her chest. Where his hands and lips led the way, liquid flame followed, enveloping her whole body in a fire so bright the storm outside could never extinguish it. Her hands clutched at him, clawed at him until he rose and poised himself over her. Then he slid deeply into her, slowly, and held still.
One strong, dark hand held her hip firmly as he seated himself. "Don't move, Lissa," he breathed against her neck.
But she was wild and heedless, so hungry that his impassioned words did not register. Lissa had waited for the past year, alone and aching for his touch, for his body to join with hers and fill it, to make her whole. She arched up against him and he was lost. They rode, fierce as the storm, and just as quickly as the rain had begun they finished together in a white-hot rush of ecstasy. He collapsed on her, shuddering, and she held him fast, trembling while they both struggled to regain their breath.
Finally he raised his head and brushed a damp curl from her temple, kissing her lips softly and murmuring, "That was too fast."
"Mmm, I don't know. After waiting so long, I couldn't have stood another instant... but that doesn't mean we have to stop ... does it?" She punctuated her words with tiny nibbling kisses to his nose, eyes, and lips as she held his face framed between her hands.
He buried his head against her throat and whispered, "No, I suppose not... but first.. ." He pulled away with a light kiss and stood up, reaching his hand out to pull her from the bunk. "That bed is mighty cramped."
When she stood up, he reached down and pulled the blanket off the mattress. When he spread it across the wooden floorboards in front of the fire, she followed and knelt on it, opening her arms to him. With the firelight silhouetting them in amber, they embraced, kissing slowly as they sank onto the blanket, as oblivious of the hardness of the floor as they were of the dying of the storm outside.
They made love with slow care this time, exploring each other, renewing every nuance of pleasure, communicating with words and with small inarticulate sounds that transcended speech. When they at last ascended the heights again, they lay still joined, as if unwilling to ever again be separated.
Suddenly, a cold wet nudge against his buttock brought Jess's head up sharply. "What the hell?"
Lissa chuckled as Cormac's long pink tongue scraped along Jess's thigh. "I think he's hungry," she said as she sat up. When her own stomach gave a rumble she added, "So am I."
He watched while she walked to the table and brought the hamper over to their "picnic blanket" in front of the fire. She moved gracefully, utterly unconcerned about her nakedness as she knelt and opened the basket. His stomach growled, and they both laughed.
They feasted on ham, cheese, and sweet-and-sour potato salad, washing it down with mellow white wine. Each took turns feeding the other small bites interspersed with tossing treats to the dog. Cormac finally settled for the remainder of the crockery bowl of potato salad and two large dill pickles.
When the hound had retreated to his corner again and lain down with a resigned sigh, Lissa gathered up their scattered clothes while Jess stoked the fire with more wood.
"My underwear is dry, but your denims and my riding skirt will take until morning, I think," she said with a question unspoken in her voice.
"It's full dark now. We'll have to spend the night," Jess replied. Rising, he walked over to the shelf and blew the dust off a granite coffeepot. "There's coffee and possibles enough to make breakfast."
Before he could say anything else, Johnny fussed in his sleep and Lissa went to check on him. Jess tugged on his damp denims and boots, saying, "I'm going to feed the horses."
When he returned, she had donned her undergarments and blouse and was packing the remainder of the food in the hamper. She looked up at him expectantly with such hope and fear written across her face that it hit him like the kick of a ten-gauge.
He met her eyes for a moment, then sighed and said, "Hell, Lissa, I guess we could try ... at least for..."
He got no further before she had flung herself into his arms and was kissing him joyously. "You won't be sorry, Jess, I swear you won't."
"I only hope you won't be the one who's sorry, Lissa."
Chapter Twenty-Two
Cammie held the feathered hat up in the light, inspecting the way it was put together, all the while cursing that snotty Charlene Durbin, who wouldn't sell her fancy merchandise to the town's scarlet poppies. Camella Alvarez was forced to purchase her finery from Union Mercantile. Just as she glided silently over to the small, dusty mirror on the counter, two low voices caught her attention.
"I still think it's mighty peculiar, Thad. What's a female doin' with that much arsenic?"
"An' I still think it's none of our business what that hatchet-faced Frenchwoman does as long as she pays her bills. Besides, you'd never even a' knowed what was in that box if the wrapping hadn't got tore off when you unloaded it from the train," the stationmaster's wife admonished him.
They continued their argument as they wandered down an aisle filled with seed grains and hard tack.
Cammie put down the hat and tapped one lacquered nail against her cheek. The Frenchwoman must be Jacobson's former housekeeper, Germaine Channault. And arsenic was used by cattlemen to kill wolves. Could she be mixed up with someone in the Association who had poisoned Jess's water?
Why order more poison from an outside source when Jess said the Association kept a big supply on hand? To throw suspicion off the guilty member? Strolling from Union Mercantile out onto Ferguson Street, she decided to check around. Next week was the big Association gala that kicked off fall roundup. Perhaps she might have some very useful information for Jess and Lissa when they arrived in town.
* * * *
"We have to go, Jess. If we don't, we'll be cut out of fall roundup. We'll lose a fortune in beef sales," Lissa argued. "The Association would love nothing better than to see us give in this way."
Jess watched her deftly peel potatoes and plop them into a pot of water. He sat at the kitchen table, cleaning his rifle. "I'll ride into town and talk to Mathis about letting our reps ride to Diamond E and Empire Land and Cattle Company roundups."
"Without me," she said flatly. "I'm not made of china, Jess. I won't break if someone snubs me." She wiped her hands on her apron. "I'd love to go to the dance. The real business of roundup takes place around the punch bowl."
He studied the stubborn tilt of her chin. At times she looked disturbingly like her father. "What you really want is to face everyone down by dragging me to their fancy party. It'll just cause trouble, Lissa."
"Since when are you so afraid of trouble?" She walked over and put her arms around his neck, leaning forward to nuzzle his ear. "Admit it, wouldn't you like to see Lemuel Mathis's face when we show up?"
"This isn't a game, Lissa." He stood up and snapped the rifle's lever action closed.
"It's politics, and that is a game—a deadly serious one. Without me, you won't have an entree to their inner circle. The women may be snobbish, but the men will be too embarrassed not to talk to me. I can wheedle Cy and Jamie into letting our reps on the range."
Sighing, he capitulated. "Just be prepared for some ugly scenes."
In the week since the storm, they had arrived at an uneasy truce. They slept together in the big master suite each night after he sat and watched her feed and change their
son. She cooked his favorite foods, and he played with Johnny while she made dinner. Clare went about her chores quietly, giving no indication of how she felt about the new relationship between her employers.
Moss had quickly noted the change yesterday when he came up to the house to go over the tallies with Jess in the office. Lissa had come in with a tray of homemade apple pie and coffee and bustled around, serving the men as they worked. She was the picture of a dutiful young bride. His shrewd gaze had been hard and unreadable, but he thanked her for the pie and returned to business as soon as he consumed it. He told none of the hands that their new boss was there to stay. But was he?
Jess was not at all certain. Sitting behind Marcus Jacobson's big desk, he felt like an intruder. He and
Lissa spent the days being a happy family with little Johnny. Their nights were wildly passionate, obsessive—as if they could not get their fill of each other. Or as if they realized that this idyll could not last. But while she did not acknowledge that, Jess did. He had given his heart and committed his life to Lissa and Johnny. He prayed it would be enough, but feared it would not.
Now after only a few days, they would have to face the outside world. Jess would not mind for himself. He had become hardened since childhood, a childhood he did not want his son to face. And above all, he did not want Lissa hurt any more than she already had been. But she was right about the necessity of going to Cheyenne to make arrangements with Association members for the roundup.
"If only she wasn't so set on this damn dance," he muttered.
They took the best spring wagon to Cheyenne the next day with Clare riding in the back with their luggage while Lissa perched on the high seat beside Jess, holding little Johnny. As soon as they reached the city, Lissa felt the stares. A few men touched the brim of their hats, then looked quickly away. Women swished by, moving their skirts aside as if they would be contaminated by close proximity. A few of the bolder men glared with hard, hostile eyes. All observed the dark child sitting in her lap with various degrees of dislike.