Ben had seen Rachel leaving town with Nell and had followed them to the miner’s shack. He hadn’t gone far beyond that when he met Jason on the road and told him what was happening. Frustrated and angry, Jason wondered why in the hell Rachel had refused to stay put after she’d given her word that she would.
Now, he was within shouting distance of the miner’s shack, although the heavy brush hid him from view. Two of the renegades from Ty Holliday’s band stopped at the edge of the road near him. The one called Leo had completely shaved his head, save for a hank of hair flowing down his back. The other one, Cam, had blackened his face, making him appear fierce and menacing—which he was.
“The saloon keeper killed Ty,” Leo told Jason. “All Ty did was ask for his money, and the White killed him. We didn’t help kill the two soldiers, Two Leaf, but we know that Ty and the other two did. Now, the saloon keeper must pay for Ty’s death, and the deaths of the others.”
Jason didn’t answer right away. There had to be a way to do this without causing any more bloodshed. “The law will take care of the saloon keeper.”
Leo nudged his mount forward. “No,” he replied firmly. “White man’s justice is no good. They won’t punish him for killing Indians.”
“But they will punish him for killing the soldiers. After all, he hired Ty to do it. And he attempted to kill the soldier’s woman many times. All of these things will keep him in jail, maybe even worse.” Jason watched their faces, hoping they would agree with him.
“They might kill him?”
Jason nodded tentatively. “They might.”
“Then why not let us do it? I dream of it every night,” the menacing one said, thirsty for Justice’s blood.
“Because if you do it, the white man’s marshal will come after you.” Logic. Would they see it?
“The white man’s marshal is weak; he won’t bother to chase us.”
Everyone saw Tully’s weaknesses. Even Tully. He’d told Jason just the day before that he’d requested a replacement. “But Marshal Tully is going to retire. And surely whoever replaces him will be young and strong. And anxious to do a good job.”
The two rebels looked at each other. Finally, Leo asked, “How can we be sure the saloon keeper will get what he deserves? Whites are never punished for doing bad things to our people.”
“I promise you I’ll see to it, even if I have to take him to Sacramento myself,” Jason vowed.
“I’m not happy with this,” the menacing one groused, nosing his mount toward the cabin.
“Wait,” Jason called softly. “Help me do it my way first.”
“Why should we?”
“Because Nell is in the cabin with the soldier’s woman. If the saloon keeper knows we’re coming, he might kill both of them.”
The renegades paused. Besides being one of their own, Nell was a valuable herb doctor. “All right,” Leo answered. “We will try it your way first. But remember, Two Leaf, if your law does not punish him, we will find a way to do it ourselves.”
Jason breathed a sigh of relief, but he knew it was only transitory. “We can’t waste any more time. This is what we’ll do,” he said, huddled with the bloodthirsty renegades.
Suddenly the menacing one jabbed his heels into the ribs of his mount and took off toward the cabin, his earsplitting war whoop cutting through the air.
One moment the cabin was quiet, the next, there was an explosion of sounds, the most frightening of which were the high-pitched shrieks of the black-faced Indian who kicked open the door.
Rachel’s heart stopped and her breath caught in her throat. The savage swung a lassolike tether at Bram, intending to rope him like a calf, but Bram was quick. He turned and fired, hitting the intruding Indian in the chest. As the Indian staggered backward, Bram dove behind Rachel’s chair, pressing his forearm against her throat.
“Easy, now, Mrs. Weber. No quick moves.”
Briefly closing her eyes, Rachel strained back against the chair. The slightest indication of a struggle, and she knew he’d cut off her breathing. She’d had him pegged for a dandy; his athletic prowess surprised her.
She stared at the open door. The fallen Indian lay lifeless across the threshold. Glancing carefully sideways, she saw Nell look furtively at the window beside her. Rachel followed her gaze and saw the top of a bald head pass beneath it. She quickly looked away, unsure if she should feel relief at the possibility of being rescued, or more frightened than she already was.
Bram’s focus was on the door. “Ladies,” he said quietly, “I have no bad feelings for either of you. But I’ll kill you both before I let another savage come through that door.”
There was a slight sound behind them. Suddenly Bram grunted, releasing his hold on Rachel.
The Indian they’d seen at the window dragged Bram out from behind them, a lasso firmly in place around his torso and his hands already tied behind his back. Bram began cursing violently, threatening to kill them all.
Rachel had no idea how the bald Indian had gotten into the cabin. It was as though he’d miraculously materialized inside until she glanced behind her and saw the wooden covering to the root cellar flipped over on its back. Some root cellars had outside entrances; this one must, too.
Glancing back at the open door, Rachel went limp with relief as Jason appeared on the threshold. He bent to check the pulse of the fallen Indian, then immediately crossed to where Rachel sat, still tied to the chair.
Without speaking to her, he untied her chafed wrists.
Rachel was so happy to see him she nearly wept. “Thank God, thank God, thank God…” she murmured over and over again.
He said nothing until he’d untied Nell. “I don’t think I want to know what went on here, Nell, but can I assume that you’re responsible for this?”
Nell, usually so proud and defiant, bowed her head and nodded. “I… I thought he just wanted to kidnap her for the money. Honest, Jason, I didn’t know he meant to kill her.”
“He’d have killed both of you.” Jason’s voice was calm, but Rachel could see the tension building in his body.
“Two Leaf.” The bald savage held a knife to Bram’s throat and nodded toward his fallen friend. “He killed Cam. I must kill him.”
With her eyes on Jason, Rachel absently rubbed her irritated wrists. She could almost see the wheels churning wildly in his head.
“I thought we’d struck a bargain,” Jason replied carefully.
“That’s right.” Bram’s eyes were wild. “Don’t let him kill me. I swear to God I wasn’t going to kill the woman. I was just going to frighten her. I’d always meant to just frighten her.”
The bald Indian took out a rag and stuffed it into Bram’s mouth, then tied a handkerchief around it to keep it in place. “White man’s words come out of his mouth like puke.”
“He’ll be properly punished, Leo. Don’t kill him. I’m not saying he doesn’t deserve it,” Jason said, “but I don’t want anything to happen to you. If you kill him, you know you’ll have to pay.”
Indecision flashed over the Indian’s face. “White justice doesn’t have anything to do with us.”
“And it never will if we keep acting like savages,” Jason reasoned. “Sooner or later, like it or not, we all have to change and make a few concessions.”
The Indian released Bram and shoved the knife back into his belt. “All right, Two Leaf, we’ll do it your way. But if this pile of donkey dung is not punished, you have my promise that I will do it myself.”
Rachel hadn’t realized that she’d been holding her breath. She let it out in a rush and hurried to help Nell move the dead Indian outside onto the ground.
“I’m sorry, Rachel.” Nell wouldn’t look at her, but her words seemed sincere.
“Let’s just forget it.” There was a mingling of sadness and relief in Rachel’s heart. She was anxious to get home, in spite of the chastisement she’d receive. But it wouldn’t be the same now that she knew Jason’s reasons for marrying her.
Bram Justice was taken to the Pine Valley jail and locked in a cell. Rachel gave her statement, and Marshal Tully whistled, astonished at what Rachel had to say. She left out nothing, implicating Bram in the deaths of the soldiers, Ty Holliday and his men, the theft of her money, and the numerous attempts on her life. Because he’d planned on killing her too, he’d told her everything—including the fact that he’d hit Tully by mistake outside the church those few months before.
Still, Tully said he couldn’t release Buck without authorization from August Weber. That worried both Rachel and Jason, although it seemed to weigh far more heavily on Jason’s mind.
They’d eaten a quiet dinner in the Corinthian Hotel dining room. Back in their apartment next to the office, Jason finally spoke to her.
“I told you not to leave.” His voice was stern and angry, but contained as he stormed around the room.
Rachel swallowed and stared at the floor. “I know.”
“Then, explain it to me, Rachel. Dammit, I can’t watch you every minute. I’ve got to be able to believe what you tell me.”
“Nell said you needed me,” she said defensively. He made her feel like a wayward child, and she didn’t like it.
He threw his vest over a chair, then turned and studied her. “But I told you not to leave.”
Disbelief made her outspoken. “And what if you really had needed me? What if I’d ignored her request, and something had happened to you?” She swung away from him angrily. “How could I possibly have known Nell hated me enough to have me kidnapped? I’m sorry, Jason, but my mind doesn’t work that way. I’m not a vindictive person, so my first thought isn’t always that someone is out to get me.”
“Well, maybe, after all that’s happened to you out here, it should be.” His level of anger surpassed hers.
They stood and stared at each other.
“Maybe it should,” she answered quietly. “Maybe I should take lessons from Nell.” It was a nasty little dig, and beneath her, but she couldn’t let it pass. After all, Nell, the “perfect woman,” was Jason’s closest confidante, and that fact had been eating at Rachel all day and long into the evening.
He grunted a sigh and walked away from her. “I’m not so sure that’s very clever, either. Hell, she almost got herself killed today, too.”
“Well, please forgive me for not being clever enough to suit you,” she sniped, angry with herself for her jealousy.
“What in the hell is wrong with you tonight?”
“Me? What’s wrong with me?”
“Yes, you. You’re petulant and peevish. You’re not acting like yourself at all.”
She sniffed dramatically. “If I sound out of sorts, it’s because I was nearly killed again. That sort of thing doesn’t have to happen to me too many times before I begin to feel just a little bit uncomfortable,” she grumbled, her voice edged with sarcasm.
He raked his fingers through his hair and stared at her. “I guess you do have a reason to be irritable. But,” he added, approaching her with a small smile, “you’re safe now.”
She automatically froze, and she knew he saw it in her face.
“What is it?”
Stepping away nervously, she answered, “I’m just tired, Jason. Really tired.” And she was, but until today, she’d never have admitted that to him. She’d have gone into his arms eagerly. Willingly. She’d have found comfort and strength there. But not tonight, and probably not ever again.
She could feel his eyes on her, and his scrutiny scared her. Not wanting to give him any reason to delve into how she was really feeling, she forced herself to smile at him. “I am tired, Jason. I’m sorry I sniped at you.”
Escaping behind the privacy screen, she got into her nightclothes and crept into bed, pulling the covers up to her neck. She lay there, still as a corpse, barely breathing as she waited for him to join her. As he moved about the room, removing his clothes, she found she had to turn away. He was so beautiful to watch, all brown muscle and sinew. But his gaze was different now. It no longer made her melt; it made her want to cry. It had turned her cold, and it hurt.
She felt him watching her. Bravely she turned over and looked at him. She loved him so much she thought she might burst. Blinking back tears, she waited for him to join her. She almost hoped he didn’t. If he got into bed, it would be so tempting to curl up next to him.
He stood there, staring down at her.
“Are… are you coming to bed?”
He gave her a disgusted sigh and turned away. “I’ve got some work to do.” He slipped back into his shirt and was gone, leaving Rachel alone, as empty inside as she was in the bed.
The morning sun awakened Rachel, punishing her with its brightness. She automatically groped for Jason. When she discovered he wasn’t there, she remembered what had happened the night before, and the hollowness returned to her stomach. Glancing at his pillow, she realized that he hadn’t been to bed at all.
She curled into a ball and closed her eyes. Yesterday, when she’d overheard the awful news that Jason only married her to keep an eye on her, she’d thought she could continue on as if nothing had changed between them. Now she wasn’t sure. The more she thought about it, the more she knew it would only cause her more pain. And she did have some pride, although it had taken her a few months to realize it.
Staying with him in spite of everything had seemed a brave thing for her to do yesterday, but after lying awake half the night, she realized that it was no way to run a marriage. She wasn’t such a fool that she’d lower herself to ruining her life or Jason’s by pretending everything was wonderful. Yes, she loved him, and yes, she wanted to be his wife. But, she realized she wanted him to love her, too. Not just pity her because someone was trying to kill her.
And what would happen now that Bram Justice was in custody, and there was no longer a threat on her life? Jason’s whole reason for marrying her no longer existed. Surely he was anxious to get on with the rest of his life.
Giving her head a weary shake, she flung the covers aside and rose from the bed. She grabbed a towel, went behind the privacy curtain and gave herself a quick, cold bath, adding lavish amounts of jasmine essence to her rinse water. With her towel wrapped snugly around her, she came out from behind the screen. Her pulse raced and every nerve in her body began to quiver, for Jason leaned against the door jam, staring at her.
“Jason.” Her voice was breathy, surprised. “I… I didn’t hear you come in.”
He gave her a hot, secret look. “I know. I love to listen to you when you bathe.”
The flush of desire crept into her cheeks in spite of her earlier resolve. She schooled in her hunger. “I’m so happy I amuse you. What is it you enjoy listening to? Do I grunt? Groan? Squeak?”
Obviously unaware of her inner turmoil, he merely grinned and gazed at her towel-covered nipples. “Nothing like that, Rachel love.”
Gritting her teeth, she turned away and hoped she could stay strong. She hated it when he called her that—it made her feel breathless and weak-kneed. She marched to the wardrobe and pulled out clean underwear, trying to ignore him.
“Don’t you want me to tell you what I imagine?”
Strutting past him on her way to the stove, hoping he couldn’t sense her confusion, she asked, “Do I have a choice?”
He still didn’t appear to see the change in her. “Ah, sexual banter,” he said, moving slowly toward her. “I love sexual banter.”
Pretending to discover a flaw in her drawers, she prolonged the need to drop her towel and dress in front of him.
“I imagine,” he said, tugging at her towel, “what it would be like to be that little square of cloth that you generously lather. I think about being pressed to that sweet, soft womanhood of yours, being rubbed back and forth, back and forth,” he replied, pulling then releasing his grip on the towel. “ ‘Ah, that lucky washcloth,’ I say to myself, imagining how you’d feel, how you’d smell, all clean and sweet, but with that special musty smell that comes after we’ve made love—or fucked, as you like me to say.”
She gasped. “I do not like you to say that,” she answered, barely able to contain her desire. She closed her eyes and let herself be drawn against him, her back against his chest.
“You’re a liar.” He held her tight, snaking his hand beneath the towel to cup her at the apex of her thighs.
She almost wept. She had no discipline over her feelings for him. Suddenly she didn’t care that he didn’t love her. He desired her, and she knew she’d hate herself for weakening afterward, but right now, she wanted him desperately.
The towel fell to the floor, giving him access to all of her. Her head flopped back onto his shoulder and she let him tease her nipples and stroke her between her legs. She was so wet for him, she could feel it trickling down the insides of her thighs. She shuddered, grinding her buttocks against his groin, feeling him harden beneath his jeans.
Unable to stand it any longer, she turned in his arms and feverishly opened the buttons on his fly. Plunging her hand inside his jeans, she felt the hot length of him pulsating against her fingers. She stroked him, cradled him, combed her fingers through his crisp hair.
He picked her up, carried her to the bed, and dropped her. She sat, bracing herself on her palms, her knees bent and her legs spread wantonly as the cool air licked at her groin.
He removed his jeans and joined her on the bed, but didn’t come into her. Resting on his knees between her legs, he grasped her calves and pulled them up over his shoulders.
She inhaled sharply as he pulled her toward him, so close she could feel his breath on the center of her desire. Gripping his thighs, she held on, perplexed and debauched as wave after wave of passion raced through her. Nothing prepared her for the sensation of his tongue as it moved over the slick, wet skin between her nether lips. She flailed hungrily and he held her firm. Suddenly an enormous spasm shook her, sending her higher against his mouth, and she cried out her release.
He let her slide to the bed, then, spreading her legs once again, he entered her, driving deep. She clung to him, waiting for him to find his satisfaction. When he did, she cried again. This time, for what might have been.