by Sharon Ihle
But she couldn't, of course. Her own guilt, and maybe even a little sorrow, swelled in her throat, making it difficult for her to breathe. Instead she hung her head.
"Don't do that." Cain removed the pair of hairpins securing her chignon at the nape of her neck, freeing her long tresses. "Hold your chin high and be proud of yourself, no matter what happened back there."
With the tightening in her throat growing to unbearable proportions, Mariah did as she was told. Billows of thick ebony hair fell over her back and shoulders, and a few locks found their way past her bosom to coil in her lap like shiny black serpents. "I already told you what happened—some ruffians stole my money. There's nothing more to tell."
"Yes there is," Cain said, his voice a gentle whisper. "Maybe I shouldn't be the one to do the telling, but did you know that you're simply the most beautiful woman I've ever seen?"
In spite of her inner turmoil, Mariah laughed. "How is that supposed to make me feel better? You don't even remember any other women."
"Maybe not," he said, chuckling along with her. "But I do know this: I'm certain that I would have remembered knowing someone more beautiful than you. And I don't."
Mariah's heart leapt at those words, plummeted to the pit of her stomach, then raced back up again. She hadn't thought she'd ever hear such words—certainly not from Cain. Maybe tricking him out of his money had been the right thing to do after all, she thought with sudden satisfaction. If any woman deserved to be the object of these wonderful compliments coming from this magnificent man, it was her, not some cheap saloon girl who couldn't see past his wallet. And knowing that his declarations were probably prompted more by her love potion than by what he actually saw in her didn't make them any less splendid, either. In either case, she had coaxed them out of him.
Feeling better about herself, Mariah glanced in Cain's direction. He was still staring at her, looking at her the way he had in the alley, with no sign of condemnation or even a hint that he might consider her the slightest bit inferior to him. Mariah swallowed hard, but continued to bask in his open adoration. She loved seeing herself through Cain's eyes, for he looked on her simply as a woman, his opposite and his equal, in the most basic of ways. Cain saw Mariah as the woman she'd grown into, and saw her in a way no other man ever had, not even her devoted father.
Mariah finally looked away from him as she softly said, "Thanks for the lovely compliment, Cain. It means a lot to me, but I wasn't trying to do you out of a few kind words."
"Then what were you trying to do me out of?" He tugged on one of her long curls. "You didn't bring me all the way down here just to look at the river. Something's bothering you. What is it, princess? I'd like to help, if I can."
As the waters of the Animas roared around the boulders strewn throughout the river, the gurgling of the rapids lulled her into thinking maybe Cain could be of some help, even though most of her problems arose from the way she felt about him. Without meeting his gaze, she quietly asked, "Have you ever been in love?"
Cain considered the question a moment, plumbing the depths of his injured mind for some hint that his heart had once belonged to another, but he came up empty. "I don't know for sure, Mariah, but I don't think so."
Could the admission mean what she hoped it did? That the woman in his watchcase had meant nothing of a romantic nature to him? Mariah's pulse picked up a little speed. "Could you tell me what love means?"
"I'm not sure I know what you're asking, princess."
She could only explain by describing the way she was feeling about him at that moment. "I guess I'm wanting to know if it sometimes hurts you inside, and if it does, is it all right."
This all added up to one dismal fact, to Cain's way of thinking: Mariah was pining away for some lost love. He tried to shrug off his sharp sense of disappointment, but when he spoke, his voice came out sounding harsh. "I don't know the first thing about love. Why don't you ask your mother these questions? She's bound to be a bigger help than I am."
Mariah laughed. "Oda really is a wonderful person, but she is not the kind of mother a girl can talk to about such things. She almost fell over with apoplexy the day I asked her what these were for." She pointed to her breasts.
His gaze fell to the area she'd indicated, and Cain quickly looked away. "I don't want to talk about this anymore, Mariah. Maybe you can ask these questions of your father if your mother won't discuss them with you."
Chuckling again, she said, "That's a ridiculous idea. Zack is less interested in telling me about these love things than Oda is. I thought you said you and I could talk about anything."
"We can." Cain took a length of her loose hair, threading the silken strands between his fingers, and gave them another gentle tug. "But not about that. Talk like that makes me think of you in, shall we say, less-than-cousinly terms. A fellow could get himself hanged for having ideas about a family member as beautiful as you. Is that what you want for me?"
Loving not the words so much as what she heard behind them, Mariah smiled coyly as she said, "Of course not. That would be perfectly awful." Prompted by Cain's gentle fingers, which were weaving in and out of her hair, she inched closer to him. "It's been better than six years since a fellah's been jerked to Jesus here in Durango. I don't think I could stand it if you were the one to break that long dry spell."
She'd spoken the last sentence so quietly, that Cain had had to lean in toward Mariah to hear what she'd said. And that had brought his mouth within inches of hers. He had just been kidding when he said he could be sent to the gallows, but if anyone saw him now, he figured, they'd "jerk him to Jesus" on the spot for lusting after his own cousin.
Cain could almost feel the rough texture of the hemp circling his throat, but he couldn't seem to back away or stop gazing at those dusky, roseate lips. Would it really be so awful, he wondered, desperate for a taste of her, to indulge this shocking need? All he wanted was a kiss, he told himself, a brief sharing of the lips, nothing more. Would it really be such a crime—moral, legal, or otherwise?
Mariah watched Cain's changing expression, thinking he looked like he was about to say something, but when his lips parted, nothing came out but a short gasp of warm breath. He smelled of malt, probably from the beer he'd had at the saloon, but it wasn't an unpleasant aroma. Rather it beckoned her, drawing her closer to him. His eyes had darkened beyond the color of the forest, and taken on an odd but thrilling sheen, and his nostrils were slightly flared, as if he'd sprinted for a block or two.
At the more-than-pleasant sensations his very nearness brought out in her, Mariah found herself gripped by a surprising desire to run her fingers over the thick auburn hairs of his Lincoln beard, and to crush her mouth against his.
And why not? she mused, shocking herself. She'd often wondered if she had what it took to lure Cain into pulling her against his chest and kissing her until she couldn't breathe. But could she bear it if he rejected her, or suffer the consequences? At the thought of folding herself within the warmth of his strong arms, of feeling his hot, full lips on hers, Mariah began to feel light-headed, as if she were fading away with the rapidly setting sun. How on earth could she ever have thought of this man as less than irresistible?
The consequences of her actions be damned, Mariah leaned forward and offered her mouth to the lawman she'd at one time hated enough to deceive.
Chapter 7
It wouldn't be right to kiss Mariah, Cain knew, but he found himself slipping one arm around her waist and the other across her shoulders, preparing for something that could never take place. It was wrong, so terribly wrong. He wouldn't go through with what he had in mind. He couldn't.
But he did.
The very instant Mariah leaned forward and lightly brushed her slick, satin lips across his mouth, Cain realized that nothing could have kept him from her. He met those dusky lips, kissing her softly at first, sweetly, staying within the bounds of decency, stretched as those limits might be. All he need do was remain in complete control of himself, or
at least pretend that he was, and he would be able to keep this unholy desire in check.
But he didn't.
As Mariah began to respond to his lingering kisses, parting her lips tentatively, and then her teeth with a virginal coyness that nearly drove him over the edge of sanity, Cain forged ahead, engaging her tongue in a ritual as primal as mating itself. She tore her lips from his at the onset of this display of lust, eyes and mouth both wide with surprise, and then dove back in, eager for the other revelations which might lay in store. And Cain was only too happy to provide them.
She was new at this, maybe even a complete apprentice, and the thought that his might be the first lips to have caressed hers filled him with an exquisite sense of power, made him feel reckless. He continued to kiss her, pressing against her breasts and hips until they were practically lying down, the willows a lush, deep mattress which shielded them from the world outside. Cain's hands, both tangled in Mariah's long raven tresses, wandered across her back, fingered her ribs and collarbone, and then went to her breasts.
Somewhere in that brief moment of allowing his hands to roam beyond the boundaries of decency, Cain finally realized his folly.
He pushed away from her, rolled to his side, and then stumbled to his feet, turning his back to her. "I—I don't know what to say. Sorry isn't nearly a good enough apology for what I just did. Forgive me if you can." Then he staggered off toward the river, his legs sluggish under the increased weight of his arousal—and his conscience.
Mariah didn't breathe a word in reply. In fact, she couldn't breathe at all. She lay in the willows as if struck by lightning, too stunned to speak or move, and watched as Cain made his way down to the riverbank. When he hunkered down at river's edge and began to splash the icy waters of the Animas against his face, his words of apology finally sank in. He was sorry? Whatever for? For giving her the most wonderful experience of her life? Mariah's lips were still tingling, and the rest of her body was so remarkably alive with sensation, she felt almost omnipotent. As long as she lived, she knew she would never forget the way his mouth had fit against hers, a perfect match. How could Cain even think of blaming himself for something she'd so blatantly instigated? And why did there have to be blame at all?
Without bothering to smooth her tousled hair or straighten her skirts, Mariah jumped to her feet and hurried down to the riverbank. Cain was still dousing himself with ice-cold water as she crept up behind him and said, "Why do you feel you must apologize to me?"
He'd been thinking that the only way he was going to cool this raging fever within would be to throw himself into the frigid river, clothing and all. When he heard Mariah's voice, and the message she brought, he nearly did fall in, freezing the lust right out of his body.
After balancing himself, he finger-combed his damp hair, then stood up to face Mariah. Cain saw no censure in her eyes, no mortification or shame in her expression, but he repeated his apology anyway.
"I wanted you to know how really sorry I am for taking advantage of you like that. I acted like a vile, disgusting animal, and there isn't an excuse in the world good enough for me to justify my actions. All I can do now is promise that it won't happen again." Even if I have to leave you to make sure I keep that promise.
Mariah, still reeling with the newfound sensations, was much too distracted to understand why their embrace had disturbed him so. Quite innocently, she said, "I don't see what you're so upset about. Whatever did we do that's so all-fired disgusting, anyway?"
"Come on, Mariah. I may have forgotten my entire past, but I do remember that it isn't exactly good manners to go around kissing my female cousins and putting my hands where they don't belong—and on a first cousin, at that." He closed his eyes. "I ought to be horsewhipped for even thinking of you in that way."
His cousin. Lord almighty. In her haste to sample the forbidden delights this man possessed, Mariah had completely forgotten about that aspect of their relationship. No wonder he was so remorseful. She was willing to do almost anything to ease Cain's mind—except tell him how wickedly the Penny family had deceived him.
Instead, she offered him the second-best thing: the secret of #20 potion.
Laughing breezily, she said, "It's me who owes you an apology, Cousin Cain. I have a feeling that my new recipe is what's making you act all spunky around me, not some nasty side to your nature."
Cain would have grabbed at any excuse to absolve himself of this crime, but he was pretty sure where this was leading. "What new recipe is that?"
"The tonic I've been having you take twice a day in order to strengthen your blood."
"What about it?"
"Well, truth is, it's not exactly a simple spring tonic. It's a little something I mixed up special to sell by mail order once I got the kinks worked out of it. I didn't think you'd mind too much, so I decided to test it on you. It's a... love potion." She gave him a sheepish grin. "Looks like it works, doesn't it?"
She waited for some kind of response from Cain, but he didn't answer right away, or even look as relieved as Mariah expected him to be. In fact, he looked downright angry. After a nervous chuckle which came out sounding strangled, Mariah went on. "I wouldn't lie about thing like this, Cousin Cain, if that's what you're thinking. Why, in that second batch alone, I dropped in twice the ginseng I usually do, and even added a little myrtle root bark for good measure. As powerful as that potion is, I'm surprised you've been able to remain a gentleman as long as you have."
"Oh, really?" His words were sharp with sarcasm, devoid of any hint of amusement. "I think it's time I let you in a little surprise of my own."
Mariah didn't like the look in his eyes, the glitter of a quiet rage rising up from those emerald depths. She was almost afraid to hear his answer. "You have a surprise, too? For me?"
"Yes, dear cousin. For you. I swallowed one"—he held up a forefinger—"count it, one teaspoon of that medicine, and no more."
"But you've gone through better than two bottles of Number Twenty. Surely you didn't just pour it out."
Guilt muting his anger, Cain subdued his tone as he admitted his chicanery. "Not exactly. I managed to find someone who likes the stuff, so I've been feeding it to her."
"You've been giving the love potion to my mother?"
In spite of his raging emotions, Cain found himself wanting to laugh at the thought of unsuspecting Oda drinking down a daily dose of love potion—with slow-moving Zack on the receiving end of her amorous attentions.
"No, Mariah, not your mother," he said, catching his breath. "Daisy."
"My dog?" She gasped and clutched her bosom. "You've been feeding that concoction to my sweet little Daisy?"
He shrugged. "I couldn't see any harm in it. She loves it, and actually sits up on her hind legs to beg for her dose each morning and night."
Mariah wasn't at all happy about the idea of her precious little dog imbibing all those roots and herbs. She ought to lecture Cain about the danger he'd put the animal in by messing with her diet, but she couldn't help bursting out in laughter instead.
Cain grumbled under his breath as he said, "I don't see what's so damn funny about any of this."
"Oh, but I do." Still laughing, Mariah leaned against his broad shoulder for support. "Daisy's been getting all google-eyed whenever you're around, and she's the kind that never, but never cottons to strangers." After another burst of laughter, she admitted, "Why, I was beginning to get a little upset about the way you'd 'stolen' my Daisy away from me, and here all the time, it was just my potion. It does work."
Cain peeled her fingers off his arm, and then took her by the shoulders. "I wouldn't waste your time patting yourself on the back or worrying about that dog, Mariah. You're better off concerning yourself about me."
"You? But—"
"Daisy drank the potion. That means I don't have a damn excuse in hell for my behavior."
So stunned was Mariah by this declaration, and what it might mean, she could offer nothing more than a blank look by way of response
.
Cain filled in those blanks, making sure she understood. "That's why I apologized to you earlier, and apologize still. I want you, damn it, and I want you in a way no cousin has a right to. Even with your limited understanding of these things, you must have some idea of what I mean by that."
Mariah thought back to the way his body had pressed against hers in the willows, the heat and urgency in him, and there was suddenly no doubt in her mind what it meant when Cain said he wanted her. She shivered from head to toe, and then moistened her lips. "Yes. I think that now I do understand."
"Then you'll also understand that it's become a problem I'm going to have to deal with real soon. If I can't, I'll have to move on." Cain took her by the hand, accepting her shocked silence as censure, and began walking up the hill to where she'd left her bonnet, pulling her alongside him. "We'd better get you fixed up now, and then head back to the hotel. It's getting dark."
* * *
Late the following morning, Tubbs and Artemis rode into Durango, refreshed from the night they'd spent tucked away in the ponderosa pines just outside of town. They came in from the west, curving around to the north with the trail along the Animas River, and reached the town limits at a wide street called The Boulevard. From there, Tubbs, who'd learned the layout of the town when the Doolittle Gang had bungled their attempt to relieve the Bank of Durango of its assets, led his partner down Fifth Street to Main Avenue, where most of the town's businesses were located. They'd just turned the corner at the Denver & Rio Grande Depot, when Artemis spotted a commotion on the corner of Seventh Street.
Wild just to be in Durango, and with his hero, of all people, Artemis could hardly stay still in the saddle. When he twisted sideways to face Tubbs, he nearly toppled off his horse as he asked, "What do you suppose is going on up there?"