Peter moved his arm beneath her breasts and pushed them up until she couldn't help but glance down. His arm was brown and covered with black hairs and contrasted vividly with the pale smoothness of her breasts. She had never really looked at her breasts before. They did seem to be alarmingly round and full and the tips were flushed and extended into hard points. When her husband's thumb brushed against one, an intoxicating rush swept through her middle, and her hips surged against his finger again. Her eyes widened as they stared down at where Peter had his hand.
"I want you, Jenny. I want to be inside you again. But I don't want to make you cry. Will you let me try again, or shall I stop?"
He was giving her a choice! Amazement flooded through her. He was asking, not demanding. She could feel the thick length of him pressing between her legs, knew the muscular strength of the arms wrapped around her. He could force her with ease. They both knew it. But he wasn't taking that advantage.
"Could we wait?" she whispered. She knew he was hoping that if he asked, she would say yes. She ought to say yes. He was her husband and her duty was to say yes. But just this once, just once, she would like to feel that she really had a choice.
He kissed her temple and reluctantly moved away. "Will you tell me sometime why you cried? I won't be able to stay away from you as much as you might like. I'd like to make it easier for both of us."
He was actually climbing out of bed. Janice was so surprised that stupidly she turned over to watch him. She saw a good deal more than she was prepared for.
There was enough light in the room to see the muscles bunch in his back and buttocks as Peter stood up and brushed the hair from his eyes. He was tanned down to the line of his trousers, and she stared at the tight muscles below his waist. And then he swung around to look down at her when she didn't answer, and she was confronted with the swollen male part of him. She backed hurriedly against the wall.
He had put that inside her? Her eyes widened in disbelief and she continued staring even when he hastily reached for his trousers and drew them on.
"Janice? Are you all right? You did say you'd been with another man before, didn't you?"
He seemed more anxious than angry, and she didn't know whether to nod her head or shake it. She just suddenly realized that she was as naked as the day she was born, and she jerked the sheet up around her.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean... How..." She couldn't get the words out. She didn't think she'd been embarrassed in years, but now she stuttered like an adolescent. She watched as he gingerly tucked himself inside his trousers. He didn't attempt to fasten them entirely, and her gaze was distracted by the dark swirl of hairs disappearing into the V beneath his trouser band.
He leaned one hand against the wall and gazed down at her in puzzlement. "You weren't a virgin. Janice. How could you not know how men are made?"
She averted her eyes. "Please, I don't think I can talk about this."
He tipped her chin up until he had captured her gaze again. "We're going to have to, but not right now. Feed me one of your bountiful breakfasts, and then I'll ride out to face the Hardings and get that money I need. Then we'll have all the time in the world to learn about each other."
"Money?" She watched as he crossed the room, evidently meaning to wash before he dressed.
He stopped in the doorway and looked back. "Money." He straightened and shoved the hair off his forehead. "I told you. I need money to buy that mountain. I'm down to my last red cent. I'm hoping the Hardings will loan me what I need."
Janice felt her cheeks lose color.
"The Hardings haven't got any money. They spent every last penny on buying that government land, and the bottom fell out of the cattle market. Their bank is likely to go belly up any minute."
Chapter 14
Peter stared at her, uncomprehending. "Belly up?"
"Broke." Janice jerked the sheet tighter around her as she looked for something decent to pull on. "Everyone is. People began fencing their lands so the herds couldn't range free. Those cows need a whale of a lot of land to range. So like everyone else, the Hardings had to start buying that government land they'd been using for nothing. Then they had to buy fencing. The Double H was lucky to have a free source of money in the bank, but when the bottom fell out of prices, they couldn't pay back the loans. If they borrow any more, they'll be tapping into the funds of little old ladies and schoolteachers like me. Jason won't do that."
His wife's pragmatism had a way of taking the starch out of him. The desire that had been burning so heatedly just moments before rapidly died. What she was saying couldn't be true. The Double H was the richest spread in this part of Texas, everybody said so. And the Hardings owned a damned bank. There had to be money there somewhere.
Peter watched her reach for a wrapper. He took a deep breath. "I still have to talk to them. It would be simpler if I could get the money here. Time is running out."
He turned and left the room. Janice's hands trembled. Surely he hadn't meant what he said about not having a red cent. He was a Mulloney. Mulloneys had more money than anyone could possibly spend in a lifetime, Daniel had told her so. Not having a cent probably meant something different to Peter than to her.
She washed in the cold water in the washbowl, pulled on a wrapper, and went to the kitchen to start breakfast. Now that she was married, her only responsibility should be the house and the children they didn't have yet. Her husband could worry about the money situation. That was the way it was supposed to be. She didn't want to worry about where the next meal came from anymore. That was the reason she had married.
Peter would have to hold up his end of the bargain. She didn't see any reason why they should own a mountain of gold. She would be quite content with just a house of her own.
He entered through the back door, clean-shaven, with flecks of water still glittering on his face and chest. Without a word, he picked up his clothes and returned to the bedroom to dress.
Janice felt the tension in him, and it multiplied the anxiety eating at her. She told herself not to worry, but she had spent a lifetime worrying. She didn't know how to break the habit.
When he came back, fully dressed and looking the part of a wealthy financier again, she wanted to ask him why he couldn't just wire Daniel for the money. Instead, she set a plate of sausage and biscuits in front of him and made small talk about the kinds of clothes she should pack. She hadn't figured out how to fit into the mold of wife yet. She had this vague idea that wives didn't question their husbands about finances. She didn't want to insult Peter this early in the game. She would just have to hope he knew what he was doing.
"If we're coming back through here for Betsy, you don't need to pack your warm clothes yet," he answered absently. "Just take whatever you need to be comfortable right now. We'll be traveling light this trip."
She could tell his mind wasn't on the conversation. She wanted to ask him how broke was one red cent, but she didn't have the courage. She was strong, and she had her own opinions about many subjects, but she had never learned to intervene in other people's lives.
Tight-lipped, she poured more coffee and brought him a piece of hot sweet bread. She had coated it in honey and pecans left from last fall, but he didn't seem to notice.
He cleaned his plate and went to the dishwater in the basin to wash the stickiness from his hands. "I shouldn't be long at the ranch. I'll check at the stage office to see what times they leave. Will you be all right out here?"
He looked over his shoulder at her. It was a perfectly ridiculous question, but Janice rather liked the concern behind it. It had been a long time since anyone had showed concern for her.
"I have more than enough to do," she reassured him. "Go on and get your business done."
He dried his hands, caught her shoulders when she turned to pick up a pan on the stove, and pressed a kiss against her temple. "Thank you," he murmured into her hair.
Startled, she looked up to ask him what he was thanking her for, b
ut he had already gone out the door. In wonder, she stared after his departing back. Peter Mulloney was nothing like she had expected. Actually, she had never even thought he was human. She didn't know if she wanted him to be a man with all the failings of a man. It was much easier to dislike a devil. But it had been a long, long time since someone had touched her with such easy familiarity. She could come to like the sensation.
When the sun rose toward noon, Janice set out for town. She didn't need to spend the entire day packing her few meager summer dresses, and without knowing how long they were remaining here, she couldn't pack everything yet. Her time would be more wisely spent in running a few other errands.
With great trepidation, she went to the bank to draw out her carefully hoarded savings. She didn't want to rely on her husband for everything.
She offered smiles and hurried excuses to the women stopping her in the street to offer their congratulations. She didn't even have time to listen to Ellen's wails about losing her schoolteacher. Janice merely made her purchases, patted the girl reassuringly, and hurried on to the butcher's. She had to make something for dinner, and maybe supper. It was difficult to know how much she needed.
She hastened back to the house and had time to discard her bonnet and gloves and start the meal before she heard a horse riding into the yard. A glance told her Peter had come home, and her heart skipped an erratic beat. Her husband made an imposing presence even when there was no one about. He sat straight in the saddle, hands firmly on the reins as he brought his mount to a halt. She couldn't see his face beneath the hat brim, and nothing in his posture as he swung down warned of his state of mind. She hurried back to the stove.
She heard him washing the dust off his face and hands before he came in. To Janice, that alone was a sign of his good upbringing. But she couldn't bring herself to smile once he stood in the kitchen. She just watched him through worried eyes.
He didn't smile either. He hung his hat on a hook by the door and ran his hand through his crushed curls. When he saw that she was cooking, he fell into their usual routine, reaching for the plates in the high cabinet.
"Tell me when I overstep my bounds," Janice murmured, her back to him. "But I've spent my life worrying about money. I can't just turn it off now. What happened?"
"They gave me the names of a few banks where I might use them as reference. Did you say your sister was staying with the Monteignes?"
Tension emanated from him in waves. She could almost hear his teeth clenching. Nervously Janice stirred the creamed corn. "Yes, but I thought you said it would take too long to go get her."
"I have to travel east anyway. I'd rather go to a friend than to a bank where I'm not known. Can you ride? I'd rather leave you here and not have you sleeping on the trail, but I imagine your sister won't appreciate it if I went to Natchez without you."
Janice looked up, incredulous. "Wouldn't the train be faster? There's a station at Fort Worth. The stage will take us right there."
Peter's expression was hard and unreadable. "I told you, I have no money. I left most everything I had with my partner back in New Mexico so he could buy supplies."
Janice stifled her growing fury and fear at the words "no money." Her stomach churned as she fought for control, a control she had tended carefully these last ten years. Ten years ago she had learned that love was dangerous; hysteria and anger, worse than useless; happiness, ephemeral. Emotions could not deal with reality. She would not give into that disabling panic and anxiety now.
But her hand went instinctively to that part of her abdomen where even now a child could be growing. She had a choice to make. She could take her few coins, go to Natchez, collect Betsy, and find a job elsewhere. Or she could offer what she had to her husband and pray that he would make the best of them. It was a terrifying choice, one she didn't feel qualified to make. She knew little or nothing of this man she had married. What little she had thought she knew seemed to be wrong.
Cautiously, she inquired, "Won't Daniel loan you the money?"
Peter's mouth hardened into a grim line. "I'm doing this on my own. I'll thank you to keep my family out of our affairs."
Startled at the anger in his tone, Janice didn't inquire further. Daniel was her friend. That didn't mean he was Peter's. Under the circumstances, she could understand Peter's resentment. Daniel, after all, had usurped the place Peter had once thought was his.
She covered her faux pas by saying, "One of the women in town offered to buy my cycle." She was merely thinking out loud, searching desperately for some way to satisfy the conflicting needs of supporting Betsy and making this marriage work. "I won't be able to use a cycle in New Mexico, will I?"
Peter looked at her with curiosity. "No, I suppose not. I don't think those things work well on mountains."
"I'm sure I could get enough for train fare, and maybe a little extra. And I have enough saved to buy a round-trip ticket. We can ride to Natchez. I don't know if there'll be enough to go any farther."
Peter stood frozen with his hands full of plates while he contemplated her suggestion. She could tell it went against his grain to take money from her. She could almost see the battle of wills inside of him. He wanted to refuse, but he was too practical to allow pride to make that decision.
Janice didn't know if she ought to be relieved or not. She ought to feel triumphant at stinging the arrogant pride of a Mulloney. Instead, she just felt frightened and uncertain.
"I'm your wife," she reminded him gently. "I didn't bring much into this marriage but myself, and I'm not much of a prize. If we're going to be partners, you'll have to let me contribute what I can."
He took a short breath and set the plates on the table. "I'll accept only because I can't leave you here. I want you somewhere safe, with friends."
She didn't like the way he said that, but she began dishing out the meal without saying a word. She had learned how to ignore orders and go her own way a long time ago.
They rode the last train out of Fort Worth that night.
Janice stared at the ill-matched curtains of her bunk and thought what an odd way this was to spend her second night of marriage. The bed had room for only one, and Peter had chosen to take a cheaper seat. She was relieved for that in one way, but in all others, it didn't bode well.
Unreasonably, she wanted him near. The bumping, grinding, and rolling of the train were taking her away from the security she had known these last five years. The train carried her to an uncertain destination, an uncertain future, a life she had never anticipated. She wanted reassurances. She knew Peter had none.
She clutched her fingers in the linen covering her abdomen. She knew only one thing for certain: she didn't want a baby until she again had a home to call her own. Peter would have to understand that.
She didn't think he would be very amenable to her decision. It didn't matter. He was the one who had married her under false pretenses. He was supposed to be rich.
When Peter walked down the aisle of the sleeping car some time later, he found his wife sound asleep, clutching her sheet to her breast. There was something vaguely defiant in her expression, but he attributed it to her dreams. So far she had been so wonderful about all this that he wanted to pinch himself to be certain he was awake, only he feared he really would wake up.
He brushed a straying strand of hair from her cheek and she stirred restlessly beneath his touch. He liked knowing she was his, that he had the right to touch her like this. This journey would put some serious dents in his plans to teach her how to make love, but they could make up for lost time when they reached Natchez. Time was running short, but by taking the train, he saved a great deal of it. They would be able to spend a few days getting to know each other.
He just didn't know how to let her know he wouldn't have time to take her back with him. He would have to ride flat out to make up for these lost days. He wouldn't have time for the luxury of a stage on the last leg of the journey.
But she would be with friends now. She would u
nderstand. He had married a reasonable woman.
Peter let the curtain drop and wandered back to his lonely seat. He could amuse himself by counting the hours until he had his wife back in his bed again. And when that failed to amuse him, he could picture the number of different ways he would make love to her. He'd learned any number of useful and pleasurable things these last few years. He thought with time Janice would come to learn to appreciate them.
They couldn't afford the time or the luxury of taking the train into New Orleans and a steamboat up to Natchez. They got off at the first station in Louisiana nearest the Mississippi, rented a wagon, and transported themselves to the dock. From there, they took the first boat traveling north.
If she weren't so worried, Janice would have almost enjoyed the journey. The scenery through East Texas and Louisiana was so lush and green that she wanted to reach out and touch all of it. The wagon part of the trip gave her the opportunity to smell the rich magnolias. Peter even obligingly stopped once so she could run up and touch one of the waxy blossoms. She had seen them on her first trip out here, but no one had ever given her the opportunity to really drink in their scents.
And she felt like royalty on the steamboat. The last time she had come through here, she'd rode on the lower deck with the humbler passengers. When she'd suggested they do the same now, Peter had to be told about steerage. He had barely been aware of its existence.
When he discovered it meant they would have no access to the luxurious salons of the main deck, he'd been adamantly opposed to his wife traveling in such a manner. She could tell he debated the possibility for himself, but she refused to go above unless he was with her.
That had settled it, and their brief journey to Natchez was done in style. Self-conscious at first that her plain traveling gown could not compare to the rich silks and laces of the rest of the company, Janice quickly forgot herself in the myriad amusements. Lavish crystal chandeliers danced in the sunlight, sending rainbows reflecting against mirrored walls. A piano player made soothing music to converse by while uniformed waiters circled among the passengers, taking orders for drinks. Peter indulged her with a glass of champagne, and for the first time in her life, Janice felt the frivolous bubbles tickle her tongue.
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