Though Buster assured Jessica a few moments later that Ned had already gone up to his room, only silence met her ears when she tapped on the door. She knocked a little harder, and heard the bedsprings protest as someone rolled across them.
Ned's strangely muffled voice came through the door. "C...comin'. Just a sec."
The Ned who opened the door wasn't in any condition for Jessica to discuss the tale of her ride with. He swayed as he stepped back, and Jessica caught a whiff of cheap whiskey on his breath.
"Oh, Ned," she said softly. "What would Mattie say?"
"Well, we don't really have ta tell her, do we, Jes?" He winked sloppily at her and twisted his lips into a sly grin.
Jessica found herself laughing at him. "No, I guess we don't, Ned. But I've never seen you take more than a drink or two in my life."
"Haven't too often, Jes. But there's at least one friendly feller in this town. Got to talkin' we did, and time just got away from me."
"And I'd guess the number of drinks you had got away from you, too."
"Must have, Jes," he agreed with another wink.
"Who was he, Ned?"
Ned reached up and scratched his head. "Well, now, come to think of it, I never did get his name. He sure was likable, though."
"He must have been, for you to sit drinking for over two hours with a stranger whose name you didn't even know," Jessica said in a dry voice. "Do you think you can be ready to go down to supper by the time I change? Or should I have Eloise bring you up some coffee first?"
"I'll be ready, Jes. You go on. I'll just wash up and be right there."
Jessica sniffed and turned to the door, where she paused for a moment.
"You might put on a different shirt, too, if you have another clean one. That one smells like tobacco smoke."
She closed the door, then shook her head and smiled to herself as she walked across the hall to her own room. She cared too much about Ned to chastise him for a couple hours' enjoyment after their long days on the trail.
In her room Jessica walked over to the wash basin sitting in the late afternoon sun shining through the window to warm it slightly. She pulled the shade down, unbuttoned her blouse and reached for the washcloth to wet it and clean the dust from her face.
The cloth wasn't really as soft as she would like. In fact, it rasped against her face slightly, feeling almost like a man's whiskers. She drew it down over her neck and across the tops of her breasts under the chemise.
The coldness of the cloth she unconsciously drew back and forth over her breasts finally brought her to her senses a time later. She gave a start and dunked it back into the water to warm it. After wringing it out again, she stood over the basin and watched the ripples of water calm once more. She stared into the water, now somewhat murky with dust.
She had a face now to put with the voice and body that had kept her tossing and turning all the night before. She could almost see it peering back at her from the water. Those eyes — at times so hard with shadowed pain they were as flat as the eyes of the snake on the trail. Other times they softened to almost brown when he looked at her.
She found herself longing for Mattie and the frank talks they shared. How many times had she come home from a barn dance or church social all starry eyed over some young cowboy's attention? There were plenty of stolen kisses in the shadows when couples could escape the sharp eyes of the dance chaperones. None of the kisses she received ever stirred her as much as the stranger's did, though, she admitted.
She had also received her share of rides home from church and evenings spent on the front porch swing at the ranch house with one or another of her latest suitors. And, true to Mattie's frank warnings, none of the young men she allowed to kiss her at the dances or on the porch were satisfied for long with only kisses. Each time the familiar groping would start — whether in the darkness of the front porch or maybe on a picnic she allowed herself to be talked into — she would feel a repugnance crawl through her veins. The suitor would be cut dead by Jessica's cold eyes the next time he dared approach her.
Not once had she ever even slightly experienced the feelings that Mattie hinted she would find with a man some day.
"Maybe that's been the trouble all along," she mused to herself. "All those others were just boys. The person I met out there is definitely a man."
A man who's seen lots of pain in his probably at least twenty odd years, her mind continued. Maybe even closer to thirty. A man who has something to hide.
Instead of the thought scaring her, Jessica felt her heart tug inside her breast.
And how could she ever have imagined how she would feel in those strong arms? Was it the lust Mattie had also frankly told her some people mistook for love? Was there a sensuous part of her that could be stirred to the point where she lost her control? To the point where she would have lain down in the stones on the trail with him if he hadn't pushed her away?
Oh, she had no delusions about lust. Who could watch the stallions cover the mares on the ranch, then see them walk away to graze without a backward glance and not know about lust? Quickly satisfied, lust was.
But what about the winter mornings she knocked on Mattie's door to find her still ensconced in bed with Ned, lingering for a moment longer before she rose to face another busy day? And what about the times she came into the kitchen to find Ned sneaking a quick kiss from Mattie before he set his hat on his head and left?
Mattie would only get a dreamy expression on her face when Jessica questioned her. She would know someday, Mattie would tell her.
A sharp rap on the door jerked Jessica around.
"Ready, Jes?" Ned called through the thin structure.
"You...you go on down, Ned," Jessica called back. "I'll be there in a minute."
Jessica heard him grumble something about how long it took women to dress as he moved away.
"My God, Storm! I wish you wouldn't do that!" Idalee's hand flew up to cover the low decolletage of her dress as the big man stepped out from behind a sheltering curtain.
She raced across the room when he smiled and held his arms open, straight into his warm embrace. She snuggled against him, then threw her arms around his neck to draw his face down for a brief kiss. Her hands caressed his cheeks as she pulled back to look up at him.
"One of these days you're going to give me a stroke."
Storm chuckled softly and released her without answering. Stepping away from her, he settled in a comfortable, stuffed chair beside the curtains. He stretched his long legs out, crossing them at the ankles, before he sighed and smiled at her.
"Wouldn't be any fun if I didn't surprise you once in a while, Idy."
"And how many times have I asked you not to call me that? Huh, Storm?" Idalee said grumpily. "And where the hell have you been all this time?"
"Around," Storm replied vaguely. "I see your language hasn't improved. You got anything here to drink besides that rotgut you serve your customers?"
Storm watched Idalee purse her lips into a disapproving pout at his insult and walk over to the velvet bell pull beside the speaking tube in the corner of the room. She hadn't changed at all in the months he had been gone. Still the same proud tilt to the small, pointed chin and the same luster to the red-gold curls tumbling down her back.
Her emerald gown, a bit too much for this early in the afternoon, encased her tiny figure to perfection. Only a spattering of freckles on a pert nose set under cat green eyes remained to remind him of the pigtailed creature who had followed him around years ago.
Funny. Once he had thought Idalee had grown into the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, though he enjoyed teasing her about the freckles way too much to tell her they only added to her elfish beauty. But today the silky softness of sable curls and the gold flecks in a pair of brown eyes tugged at his senses — and lips just full enough to be meant for kissing.
Idalee had never set a horse as though born to the saddle, yet still exuding the essence of femininity. And the fuller figure of the pretty lady fit the space in his arms just exactly right.
Storm relaxed a little and allowed his lids to droop over his dark eyes. He would probably never see her again, unless he stumbled across her yet another time when her own foolish actions placed her in danger. Beauty the pretty lady might have, but she obviously had been hiding under a cabbage leaf when the Good Lord passed out brains. She needed a guardian angel!
It damned sure wasn't going to be him, Storm told himself as he tried to fight the drowsiness overcoming him. He needed to talk to Idalee about...what? Of course. He really should apologize for not coming to see her as soon as he escaped, if only to thank her for the comfortable hiding place she fixed up for him. He could almost feel safe there. And here. Almost. And damned it felt good after so long on edge day in and night out.
Idalee turned and stilled the terse words on her lips telling Storm the lemonade he enjoyed was on the way. Her mouth softened and the green eyes took on a look of love for the large man stretched out before her.
His body almost overpowered the chair, his shoulders touching each side of the curved back. She would have to talk him into staying long enough to give him a haircut. Though the shiny black locks shone with health, they almost brushed his shoulders.
Idalee's eyes traveled down the arms encased by the blue plaid shirt to where his thumbs hooked into his denim jeans on each side of the top button. Plenty of room in the overstuffed chair for his narrow hips, but she knew from the times she teasingly patted him on the backside that the back of his jeans would be pulled tight.
The front, too, she laughed silently to herself. Maybe she could figure out some way to get him a set of men's clothing from the general store without arousing suspicion. Elias's clothes wouldn't fit him, and that jagged tear on the frayed jeans loomed dangerously close to his crotch — though how anything embarrassing to him might escape the tight material she couldn't imagine.
She would definitely have to find a way to at least get him a pair of jeans, she thought, letting her eyes wander down the thin material covering his long legs. Why, the denim was so worn as to be almost transparent and it clung tightly to his muscular thighs. At least his moccasins looked in fairly good shape, but she guessed he had made them himself.
He was truly a magnificent male specimen. Why, she had even had a short infatuation with him herself in their teens, when both of them were trying to get a handle on their emerging sexuality. Recalling the puzzled look on Storm's face the couple of times they had shared an experimental kiss, Idalee giggled quietly. She had probably had that same look on her own face.
All the books said that flaming passion started with kisses — passion that swept away reason and ended with a girl getting in "trouble". Or, at least that was what her mother had insisted, though she and her girls knew better now.
But there hadn't even been a tiny spark to begin a flame when she and Storm kissed. Probably the most mature decision they had made in their teens had been to accept the deep friendship between them — to agree to always be there for one another, while realizing that the love they had for each other wasn't marriage love.
With Elias, though....
A soft snore met her ears and Idalee glanced up to see Storm's head cushioned against the side of the high back chair. She smiled tenderly, then turned quickly when she heard a pair of high heels tapping down the hallway. Before the person approaching could knock on the door and wake Storm, Idalee slipped outside and reached for the tray of lemonade.
"I'll take it, Sassy," she said to the sleepy-eyed woman wearing only a chemise and pantelets above her dangerously high-heeled shoes. "Where's Elias?"
"Oh, he's fixing one of his concoctions in the kitchen, mum," the woman replied in a decidedly British accent. "I went in to get a drink of water and he asked me to bring this to you."
"You're up awfully early, Sassy."
"Not up, mum. Just thirsty. I'm going on back to bed now. I do so enjoy it when I have my bed all to myself."
"Why, Sassy," Idalee said with a smile. "I thought you enjoyed it when you shared your bed also."
Sassy's lips curved up and her blue eyes took on a small sparkle. "That I do, mum," she said, but almost immediately she frowned slightly. "Well, most of the time, anyway."
"Sassy, you know you have the right to refuse anyone you want to here."
"I know, mum. But needs my tips, I do."
"I've offered to loan you the money to bring your son over from England."
"To what, mum? No, not yet. When he comes, it's going to be to a place far away from here, where nobody knows me."
"I understand, Sassy." Idalee shifted the tray in her hand and reached for the doorknob behind her. "For now, you better go on back to bed and get your beauty sleep. You've only got a couple hours left, and men don't tip a girl with circles under her eyes very well."
"Right you are, mum."
Idalee watched for a second as Sassy walked away, waiting until she rounded the corner in the hallway before opening the door. Sassy liked to talk a lot, and she wouldn't put it past the woman to remember something she wanted to discuss and turn back to do just that. Today Sassy's sleepiness overcame her desire to talk, though, because the woman didn't hesitate as she made her way down the stairwell leading to her second floor room.
Closing the door softly behind her, Idalee walked silently over to a table to set the tray down. An ice cube in the crystal glass beside the pitcher shifted, tinkling loudly in the quiet room. She felt as much as heard Storm come to immediate alertness, and when she turned back, his black eyes met hers without a sign of drowsiness.
"Storm, you know you don't have to be afraid here. No one saw you come in, did they?"
"'Course not, Idy. But some things just become ingrained in a man."
"I don't need to ask what you mean by that," Idalee said with a sigh. "But you're so tired. Why don't you have your lemonade and then lie down on my bed for a nap? I've got some things to do below and everyone here has strict orders not to enter my quarters uninvited."
"Even Elias, Idy?"
Idalee ducked her head to hide her flushed cheeks and turned back to the pitcher of lemonade. A little sloshed over the side of the glass when she poured it with a slightly shaking hand, but she wiped it on a linen napkin and turned to hand it to Storm without speaking again.
Storm took a long swallow and sighed contentedly as he leaned back in the chair again.
"You know, Idy," he continued as though not aware of the embarrassment his words caused the small woman, "I just don't understand it. Why, Elias cooks well enough to have a fine restaurant somewhere. And I've never seen two people who are meant for each other more than you two. Seems a shame you're both buried out here in the wilderness. You always did have a yen for the finer side of life. I remember more than once when I had to literally pull you away from the fashion magazines each time a new one arrived in the dress shop."
Idalee abruptly turned away from him and flounced over to her bed. She grabbed the newel post holding up the canopy and kept her back to Storm when she spoke.
"No, you don't understand, Storm," she threw over her shoulder. "These girls need me. Why, there's not a one of them who isn't working toward getting a better life for herself. They don't stay here long. I know Sassy's got almost enough money saved to bring her son over from England and start a little business of her own somewhere. And I'll bet my corset that Catarina's going to end up leaving with Eddie when he finally gets up nerve enough to break away from that arrogant uncle of his and buy his own spread. Besides...."
Her voice fell to a whisper, but Storm caught her words. "...he hasn't asked me."
Storm rose to his feet and drained his glass before he set it down beside the pitcher. On cat soft feet, he crossed the room and folded his arms around Idalee. When she turned and buried her face on his chest, he tightened his arms and dropped a kiss on her red-gold curls.
"Maybe you ought to do the asking, Idy," he said in a soft voice. "Seems to me it shouldn't always have to be the man's responsibility to ask. We're just as afraid of getting turned down as we can be."
Idalee shook her head against his chest. "Oh, I couldn't," she breathed. She drew her head back and stared into his dark eyes. "I couldn't, could I?"
Storm raised a hand and caressed her cheek with his index finger. "Just think on it, Idy," he said. "Time doesn't stand still for anyone. Days pass and turn into years, and neither one of us is getting any younger. You have to decide if this is the way you want to spend the rest of your life, just because you want to rub their noses in the embarrassment you're causing them. Or if you want to reach for the things we dreamed about when we were kids."
Storm dropped his arms and turned to look out the window. "And speaking of time passing, I better get going. You might be surprised, but it's a whole lot easier slipping in and out of town in a crowd than it is after dark. Guess people just aren't as much on guard."
"Storm, don't go," Idalee said as she reached out to grasp his arm. "You need to rest a while. And I can cut your hair and get you some decent clothes before you go."
"Can't, Idy," he said with a negative shake of his head. "No matter what you think, it's not safe for me here. I just stopped by to let you know I was around and thank you for all you've done."
Idalee sighed hopelessly as she watched him walk over to the wall of the room and push gently on one of the sections of panelled wood. The doorway to the hidden passageway opened on silent hinges.
"Storm," she said, trying to hold him a moment longer. "Isn't there anything else I can do?"
Storm paused, hand still on the doorway. "Well, there might be one thing."
"What?" she said eagerly. "There's got to be a way we can clear your name."
"That's not what I meant, Idy. There's only one way to do that, and I'm not sure I have the right to ask that of her." His soft voice took on a thread of steel. "But one way or the other, I'm gonna break the hold those bastards have on this valley. If it means seeing them dead to do it, then so be it. They've already made me an outlaw. Might as well have the satisfaction of at least earning that reputation myself."
"Storm," Idalee said with a gasp. "That's not you talking!"
Storm caught himself abruptly and smiled across the room at Idalee. "Don't worry, honey. I haven't totally given up yet. Anyway, what I was talking about a moment ago. Do you think you might talk Elias into taking you for a ride tomorrow afternoon?"
Idalee tried to sort out her thoughts at his abrupt change of subject. "A ride? Why...why, I guess so. We do that sometimes."
"Have you seen anyone new ride into town today?" he questioned her.
"New? Whatever are you talking about, Storm? Well," she admitted when he continued to stare at her in silence. "Well, I did see a man and woman ride in today. The man was older, but the woman was awfully pretty. In fact, they stopped right here under my window for a moment and seemed to be looking at my flowers. Then they went on into town."
Storm again — to Idalee's mind — abruptly changed the subject. "You remember that waterhole where we used to swim when we were kids? Think you could ride out that way?"
"Of course I remember it, Storm. Why wouldn't I? And yes, it's a pretty ride out that way, and I'm sure Elias wouldn't mind. But whatever for?"
"I spotted a good looking roan stallion and another horse grazing out that way when I came by. The stallion's bred too well to be a mustang and my guess is he belongs to someone. You might ask that woman who rode in with her friend if she knows anything about those horses when you get them back to town."
"You come back here and explain yourself!" Idalee said with a stamp of her foot as he ducked inside the door. "Storm B...."
His head reappeared, cutting off her words. "I've asked you not to call me that, Idy," he said quietly just before he disappeared again.
Idalee ran across the room, but she already knew he wouldn't be there when she pushed the door open again. She stared down the receding passageway into the dimness, her mind filled with questions. But one thought came to the forefront.
"What about you, Storm?" she whispered into the silence. "When will you be able to reach for the dreams we shared with each other years ago?"
Then, "I love you, Storm," she called quietly into the dimness. Somehow it didn't matter that she didn't dare speak loudly enough for him to hear. Somehow he would know.