A dying ember popped in the fireplace and Jessica's eyes flew open. For a moment, she snuggled back down under the blanket covering her, then realized how warm she was. When she tossed back the blanket, her hands encountered the silken gown.
She let her fingers linger where the gown covered her stomach, luxuriating in the feel of it as she recalled Uncle Pete's gift one Christmas. She never knew how the old mountain man had read her thoughts, since she always told herself she never yearned for the silken underthings and dressing gowns displayed inside one fine shop in town. Somehow each trip would find her with an excuse to stroll by the shop and scan the window display of fashionable gowns, though.
Once in a while she would go in and spend a spare coin on a ribbon or scarf, and each Christmas she would splurge on some nonessential from the shop for Mattie, which Mattie would wear proudly for a day, then tuck away. No sense ruining her finery by wearing it while she did housework, Mattie would say. She would urge the fine shawl or silk gloves on Jessica when they attended church or a dance.
Somehow Uncle Pete had known. She had gasped in awe when she pulled the lilac peignoir and matching dressing gown from the box. The one she wore now was the same color as the one from Uncle Pete.
Uncle Pete. And the gold. Where was she? It had to be daylight, but the room remained shadowed and the dying fire made it much too hot.
Her gaze fell on the canopied bed and the covered figure on it. Oh, yes. Idalee's bedroom — and Storm. She should check him and make sure his wound hadn't fevered. She should be on her own way, too. Time marched resolutely on and the days left for her to find the gold and get back to Wyoming were dwindling fast.
Jessica slipped her legs over the side of the cot and rose. Lord, the room was stifling. She crossed to the shade and pulled at it. It slipped from her fingers and clattered loudly as it wound around the wooden spool at the top.
Jessica glanced back at the bed, but the figure on it only stirred and resettled under the covers. She turned back and tugged at the window, finally managing to open it a few inches. Sunlight streamed through the clear panes and a cool breeze flowed through the opening, drying the slight sweatiness of her body. She lifted the front of the gown a little to allow the breeze to feather across her legs.
Storm tried to shake the lethargy still lingering in his mind from the laudanum Idalee had insisted he swallow. His eyes remained fixed on the window, where an ethereal figure stood. He blinked, but the traces of the drug blurred his vision, outlining the figure in a hazy purple glow.
He squinted his eyes a little and the outline firmed somewhat. Still a purple haze lingered, but a darker shape filled in the center of the violet shadow — a shapely center. The sunlight outlined Jessica's trim figure to his eyes and he found himself unable to tear them away.
Sable curls floated down her back to a tiny waist and perfectly rounded hips flared out beneath the fall of silky tresses. And legs — legs more defined, since she held the front of her gown up. Legs that tapered down to trim ankles. Legs definitely long and luscious.
He tried to stifle the groan in his chest when he felt himself spring to alertness between his own legs. Damn, he hadn't had problems like this since his teen years!
Jessica turned at the sound behind her, unaware that the sun now outlined her uptilted breasts beneath the bodice of the gown. She blushed slightly when she realized she still held the hem of the gown in her hands and dropped it quickly. Her embarrassment kept her in place as she tried to determine if Storm's eyes were open.
"Storm," she called quietly across the room. "Storm, are you in pain?"
Pain? God, he felt like he would burst from the pain, though not from his shoulder. His eyes struggled to travel up to Jessica's face, but remained glued on the dark shapes of her nipples. When they crinkled into points clearly outlined by the lilac silk — as though they felt his eyes on them — his voice left his throat in a snarl.
"Get the hell away from that window and put some clothes on! Do you want the whole damned town to see you standing in a whorehouse window!?"
Jessica gasped and flew across the room to grab the dressing gown from the bottom of her cot. Keeping her back to the figure on the bed, she threw it around her and snugged the belt tightly. She took a deep breath before she turned to face Storm.
"What do you mean, a wh...brothel window?" she demanded.
Damn! The snug belt of the dressing gown only accentuated her body. What the hell had Idalee had in mind by giving her something like that to wear? Why, any man who saw her would want to....
Jessica stamped her bare foot, wincing at the absurd sound it made on the carpeted floor, then crossed the room to the bed. She placed her hands on her hips as she glared down at him.
"I asked you a question, Storm. Does Idalee run a brothel here?"
Storm managed to fix his gaze on her face and a small smile tipped his lips. The golden flecks in Jessica's brown eyes flashed at him, and for some reason he found himself wanting to antagonize her further.
"Why, I thought anyone who came to Baker's Valley knew about Idalee's place five minutes after they got into town. In fact, lots of people ride miles and miles just to get here."
"Harumph. Lots of men, I suppose."
"Well, the women get here someway, too. You're here, aren't you?"
Jessica choked on her rage, her face taking on a hue a shade darker than her gown.
"You...you don't think I work...? Why you stupid son of a...son of a bang tailed cayuse! I should've left you out there to bleed to death!"
Storm's snort of laughter sent Jessica's anger surging higher. She clenched a fist and barely kept herself from slamming it down on his chest when she remembered his wound. When he grasped her wrist, his weakened state from his wound allowed her to jerk her hand free. Or was his weak state caused by the guffaws now erupting unchecked from his chest?
Her red anger left her slowly as she gazed down at him and she raised her hand to smother the giggle emerging from her own mouth. The laugh crinkles around his eyes told her he was teasing her — and something else told her that he needed this laughter. She hiccuped with the effort of not joining him, then gave the gales of laughter free rein.
Storm reached up and pulled her down onto the bed with him. He quieted for a second, then made the mistake of looking into her face. When she tried to moue her mouth into a pout, her effort sent another snicker building in his chest. He snaked an arm around her waist and drew her down to lay on the uninjured side of his chest, while they both erupted into more peals of laughter.
Several long moments later, Storm released his hold on Jessica's waist to wipe at his eye. He drew his finger back in surprise and stared at the moisture on it. When Jessica sat up to look down at him, he reached out and wiped his finger on the belt of her dressing gown.
"God, I needed that," he said.
Jessica ran her thumb through the crease around his other eye. She had to fight the urge to lick the moisture from her thumb with her tongue, but she succeeded in wiping it beside the other damp spot on her belt.
"You haven't laughed in a long while, have you?" she asked softly.
His head sagged back tiredly into the pillow. "No," he agreed. "There hasn't been anything to laugh about in years."
"Well," Jessica said with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "I guess we'll just have to find someone else for you to mistake for a brothel lady."
Storm's eyes centered on her face. "Why did you call them that, Jessica?"
"What?"
"Brothel ladies," Storm explained. "Most people just call them tarts."
"Most men," Jessica returned.
"No," Storm denied. "It's the women, too."
"I guess so," Jessica said as she shifted to a more comfortable position — slightly closer to him, with her hip touching his. Her face puckered into a frown and she unconsciously laid a hand on his chest, one fingernail entwining around a black curl of hair.
"I don't know if I can really explain it," she said. "It's just that...well, I've always felt that there must be a reason for a woman to lead such a life. There aren't a lot of options open for a woman, you know. We're expected to get married and raise children. If that fails, we can run a dress shop. Take in washing. Maybe be a waitress at a cafe or hotel or someone's maid."
"It's not fair, huh?" Storm shifted slightly to raise his leg. Lord, don't let her eyes fall below his waist!
"No, it's not really." Her fingernail curled the ball of hair to her satisfaction and she started on another piece. "A few of us are somewhat lucky. My father left the ranch to me when he died, but then I ran into other problems. After a spring blizzard almost wiped me out this year, the bank wouldn't loan me any money to keep the place going because I'm a woman."
"So that's what you're doing around here? Looking for another piece of land to start over on?"
Jessica found herself strangely loath to let him believe the story she and Ned had decided on.
"Not exactly. Uncle Pete...I...." Her nail scraped a nubbin hidden in the hair under her finger and it immediately sprang free from the curl. Jessica gasped and pulled her hand back.
"Oh! Oh, I...."
Storm chuckled softly and grabbed her hand. He laid it back on his chest and kept it covered so she couldn't remove it.
"You were saying?"
Jessica smiled at him and felt him relax his grip. Jerking her hand away, she quickly rose to her feet and glared down at him.
"I was saying," she said. "I was saying we better see how your wound is. Idalee will skin me alive if I let you catch fever from not changing your bandage often enough. For some silly reason, she seems to care for you, although I have a problem understanding her feelings. You're just a typical man — definitely with marred judgment about women."
"And what's that supposed to mean?" Storm asked with a chuckle as he caught the teasing lilt in her voice.
"Oh, you know," Jessica replied with an airy wave of her hand. "That arrogant male attitude that says a woman should swoon into your arms at just a touch from you."
Storm's quirked eyebrow reminded Jessica she had done exactly that and she hastily decided to find a different focus for her teasing jibes.
"And...well, like a typical man, you have trouble distinguishing what type women the females you meet are," she continued with a saucy tilt of her head. "You don't seem to be able to tell a lady from a tart. Or a woman from a lady. Or...."
"But I can, pretty lady," Storm interrupted tenderly. "You're definitely a lady." He held out his hand to beckon her. "Come back here and I'll show you how a typical man treats a definite lady."
The twinkle faded from Jessica's brown eyes as she gazed at him. How silly. She wasn't the swooning type at all, but just then her legs started trembling and the flutter in her stomach had her placing a hand over it, surprised not to feel the skin jumping under her fingers. She took a step forward, her free hand reaching out toward the callused palm waiting for her to grasp it.
The rapping sound of someone knocking echoed through the room. Jessica's eyes flew to the door, but Storm grabbed her hand when she moved toward it.
"Not there," he said as he nodded behind her. "Over at the tunnel door."
"Who...?"
"Don't worry. No one knows about it except people we can trust. Go ahead." He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze before he dropped it.
Jessica hesitantly crossed the room and stopped by the panel of wood. Realizing she didn't know how to open it, she glanced back at Storm.
"To your right," he said. "Just above your shoulder. Press the panel fairly hard."
When Jessica complied, the door swung back silently to expose Ned standing there.
"Jes, I'm glad you're finally awake," he said as he hurried past her. "We've got to talk."
"What is it, Ned?"
"I ran into that Jackson fellow." Ned glanced at the bed and his voice lowered as he asked, "Are you all right, son?"
"I'm getting there, Ned," Storm answered. "What about Tobias?"
"He didn't believe me when I told him we hadn't found you," Ned replied. "When I left him, he was on his way to the sheriff's office to tell him about you being at his place and him shootin' you. I figure the sheriff's gonna start askin' questions real fast."
"And they'll probably search here first," Storm informed Ned. He struggled to raise himself. "I've got to get out of here."
Jessica gasped and hurried over to Storm. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she pushed gently against Storm's chest.
"You're too weak to leave here." Her face creased with worry when he gave a groan and fell back against the pillow.
"I have to," he said in a voice laced with pain. "Idy's the one who'll pay if they find me here. And all the rest of you, too."
"Son," Ned said. "I don't know all of what's going on here, but Elias told me a little. Reckon we're in this with you now."
"No!"
Jessica jumped slightly at Storm's loud voice. When he pushed himself upright this time, she glanced helplessly at Ned as her ineffectual hold on him failed to push him down again.
"Let him talk for a minute, Jes," Ned said quietly.
Storm steadied himself on one arm and glared at Ned.
"I don't want your help. I appreciate all you've done so far, but I can handle it now."
"Been used to ridin' a lonely trail, ain't you, son?" Ned drawled. "Leastways, when you were free to ride."
Jessica's eyes flew to Ned. He knew. He definitely knew and still wanted to help.
"Help me get my clothes on, Ned," Storm almost pleaded. "That's the last thing I'll ask of you."
The pounding on the door two stories below reached even their ears. Jessica gave a start and Ned moved to the bed, a grim smile on his face.
"Don't reckon we've got time for that now. Come on, up with you."
Jessica quickly rose to help Ned. Between the two of them, they managed to swing Storm's legs over the side of the bed.
"Wait, Jes," Ned said. In two quick, limping strides, he crossed the room and grabbed the blanket from the cot Jessica had used. He brought it back to the bed and slipped it around Storm's shoulders. Elbowing Jessica gently aside, he threw the comforter back and pulled the blanket around to cover Storm.
"Now, Jes," he said. "Help me get him up and into the tunnel."
Storm swayed alarmingly when they got him to his feet, and Jessica took as much of his weight as she could on her own shoulders. Heart pounding in fear, she staggered beside Storm and Ned across the room. When they finally got Storm onto the landing outside the tunnel door, Ned propped him against the wall.
"The cot, Jes," he gasped. "Hurry. God, he's heavy."
Storm muffled a groan as Jessica slipped out from under his arm. She spent a valuable second glancing at his pain torn face, then ran to get the cot.
A few seconds later, they had Storm lying on the cot. It barely fit on the small landing and Ned had to move to the first step on the stairs. He leaned across the cot and placed his hands on Jessica's arms.
"Go back in there and get in the bed, Jes. Pretend you've been asleep."
Jessica nodded and reached down to run her hand over Storm's forehead. It came away covered with sweat.
Storm caught her hand, then looked up at Ned. "You're both a couple damned fools, you know that?"
Ned chuckled. "Maybe so."
"Thanks," Storm whispered. He squeezed Jessica's hand and looked up at her. "Thanks, pretty lady. But don't do anything foolish in there to protect me."
"Oh, you know us brothel ladies," she said as she gave his hand an answering contraction. "We're pretty good at thinking on our fe...backs," she finished with a giggle and pulled her hand free.
"Jes."
Jessica paused in pulling the tunnel door closed.
"What, Ned?"
"His clothes. They're on the foot of the bed."
"I'll take care of it, Ned."
She closed the opening and hurried across the room. Grabbing the denim jeans and blood-soaked shirt, she shoved them under the comforter and climbed into the bed. Footsteps pounded on the stairwell. Loud footsteps, probably made by men wearing boots. She pulled the comforter over her and her eyes fell on the moccasins on the floor. The footsteps came down the hall toward the bedroom and she glanced at the door. They had to be just outside!
Just as a knock sounded on the door, Jessica stuck out one bare foot and kicked the moccasins back under the bed. She didn't have time to see if she had managed to hide both of them. The door creaked open a crack as she tugged the comforter over her and laid her head on the pillow.
"Jessica." Thank God, Idalee's voice.
"Jessica, are you awake?"
Jessica turned her head on the pillow and raised one hand to knuckle at her eye. She gave a yawn and lowered her hand.
"Well, if I wasn't, I am now. Heaven's, Idalee. It sounded like you had a herd of cattle climbing your stairs."
"Not cattle, Jessica," Idalee said as she stepped into the room. "Just a couple jackasses."
"Idalee!"
"Miss Morgan!"
Idalee whirled to face the two men behind her. "I'll thank you both to remember that I'm the owner of this place. I've agreed to let you search, but I didn't say I'd keep my mouth shut about my opinion of your tactics!"
"Yeah," Harlin Baker said from beside the sheriff. "You always were an opinionated little brat that didn't know when to keep its mouth shut. You just better remember whose town your damned whorehouse is setting in."
"And maybe you should remember that it's the only house like this for fifty miles, Harlin. And who some of my visitors are."
"You'll go too far one of these days, Idalee. Come on, Sheriff. We came here to search, not get into a useless discussion with a brothel madam, remember?"
"But I wasn't saying anything, Mr...."
Idalee threw her hand out behind her. "Search!" she said. "Help yourselves. I'm sure Jessica has nothing to hide."
Harlin Baker stared at the bed as Jessica sat up. "Miss Callaghan? What the hell are you doing here?"
"Obviously, I was trying to get some sleep." Jessica had no trouble putting the proper amount of disgust in her voice. She couldn't abide the men standing in front of her, staring at her silk clad body. She gave a slight shiver and pulled the comforter up over her breasts.
"But...but this is a wh...whore...." Harlin Baker stuttered to a stop.
"A brothel, Mr. Baker?" Jessica asked with raised eyebrows. "Yes, I know what it is." She glanced briefly at Idalee, but saw only a serene smile on the other woman's face.
"And it's a heck of a lot more comfortable than that cheap hotel you own, Mr. Baker," she continued. "More civilized, too. They've even got running hot water here."
"But Miss Callaghan," the sheriff said. "You shouldn't be in a place like this."
"How do you know, Sheriff?" Jessica said with a wide-eyed stare at the man. "You don't even really know who I am. Why, maybe that ranch I own back in Wyoming is really a place just like this. Maybe Mr. Olson won't loan me any money because he wants to get his lecherous hands on my ladies back there."
"Miss Callaghan!" Harlin Baker's voice thundered through the room. "I insist you get dressed and leave here with us right now. The sheriff's right — this is no place for you. I can't imagine what you're trying to pull, but Olson would have mentioned anything like you claim in his wire to me."
"Mr. Olson. Pooh!" Jessica steeled herself and threw back the comforter. "I'm tired of fighting with Mr. Olson over my ranch. There's no way I can get the money to save it in time and there's not really that much back there to save. Besides, this seems like a much more pleasant way to make a living than dragging cows out of the snow all winter."
She stood up and stretched as though to awaken muscles relaxed in sleep. A smile quirked her lips when both men's mouths fell open as they stared at her. A glance at Idalee showed the small woman biting her lower lip to stifle laughter and green eyes gazing merrily back at Jessica.
"I thought you said something about searching this room, Sheriff," Jessica said. "Well, hurry up. I want to take a bath. Oh, I guess you'll want to search the washroom before I use it, won't you?"
Jessica glided across the floor toward the washroom. A quick glance showed her the toe of one moccasin barely peeking from under the bed. She stopped to arch her back and place her hand in the small of it, turning slightly so the profile of her body was outlined to the sheriff and Harlin Baker.
"Oh, my. I seem to have gotten a kink in my back." Assured of the men's eyes on her, she slipped her foot out and nudged the moccasin under the comforter hanging down over the side of the bed.
"Will you two please hurry up and search?" she said grumpily when both men continued to gape at her. "I find myself having to use the other facilities in the washroom, also."
Both men gave a start and Harlin Baker walked across the bedroom. "You check the closet, Sheriff," he said over his shoulder.
"What in the world are they looking for, Idalee?" Jessica asked in a puzzled voice.
"An escaped convict," Idalee said around pursed lips. "For some reason, they think I might have him hidden here."
"A convict? Why, Idalee, a convict wouldn't have any money. And didn't you tell me earlier that the first thing you did when a man came here was make him show you the color of his money?"
"Shut up, both of you!" Harlin Baker growled. He shoved open the washroom door and took a quick glance inside before her faced Idalee.
"You know damned well why we came here. And I'm not leaving until we've searched every one of these rooms!"
Idalee sighed and walked over to the door. "In that case, I guess I better accompany you," she said. "I don't think my girls would like you waking them up and poking around their rooms by yourselves."
The sheriff slammed the closet door, making Jessica jump.
"He's not in there, Mr. Baker."
Harlin strode across the room, his face dark with anger. Grabbing Idalee's arm, he shoved her through the door ahead of him.
"Oh, Sheriff," Jessica called sweetly as the sheriff moved to follow them.
"What, Miss Callaghan?" he asked. "Have you come to your senses about leaving here with us?"
"Why, no, Sheriff. I'm perfectly content here. It's just that...." Jessica bent down to lift the comforter from the side of the bed, though not high enough to expose the moccasins lying hidden behind it. She allowed the dressing gown to fall free and her breasts swung loosely against the front of the gown, still covered fully.
"I just thought I'd remind you to look under the bed, Sheriff," she said with a saucy smirk over her shoulder. "Don't bad guys always hide under the bed?"
The sheriff snorted loudly and strode through the door.
Jessica quickly straightened and ran lightly across the room. Closing the door, she turned the key in the lock before she collapsed against it.