Texas Blonde Page 7

  For one crazy moment he pictured a row of towheaded children seated along that table. He smiled wistfully.

  "Evening, Mr. Josh," Candace called, coming across the ranch yard to where he had paused near the barn.

  Josh quickly wiped the smile from his face and watched her progress through narrowed eyes. She looked as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. Josh knew that look. She was coming to plant a few ideas in his head, and Josh was willing to bet that those ideas concerned a certain Miss Felicity Storm. He waited patiently for the inevitable.

  Candace slowed her pace a little, sensing his wariness. Her Joshua was not a stupid man. He already knew what she was up to. It was a little game they played. She would let him know, very subtly, what she wanted him to do, and then she would feign total ignorance when he questioned her about it. Of course, she would then feel obligated as his mammy to give him her considered opinion in the matter and trust that his natural good judgment would lead him to make the proper decision.

  They had played this game for years. Had she been his real mother, she could have given him advice outright. Had she been merely his servant, she would not have dared to advise him. Since her true status lay somewhere in between these two clearly defined areas, she had devised this method of guiding him. She had never tried to guide him on such an important matter, however, and Candace knew a slight quiver of apprehension as she approached him.

  "I was just wondering if there was anything special you'd like to wear for tomorrow so I can make sure it's ironed proper," she said with just the right degree of subservience. Josh would have liked to irritate her by pretending he'd forgotten the photography session scheduled for tomorrow, but since the other men had talked of little else all day- except maybe crullers-he could not. "Whatever's already clean will be fine," he said, knowing his lack of enthusiasm for the girl's project would satisfactorily annoy Candace.

  If Candace was annoyed, she did not let it show. Instead, she sighed dramatically, "It's just a shame that a man like you doesn't have his own woman to do things for him," she remarked.

  Josh fought the grin he felt tugging at his lips. Candace was never very subtle. "I've got you," he pointed out, willing to play his role to the hilt.

  Candace sighed again, and Josh was hard-pressed once again not to smile at her melodramatics. "Yes, but I'm not getting any younger. Why, sometimes I'm so crippled up by the rheumatism that I can't hardly haul myself out of bed in the morning. I'm not getting any younger, and someday-"

  "Candace," Josh interrupted, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, "there's nothing I need done for me that you can't do perfectly well."

  Candace's dark eyes glittered wickedly and her wide mouth split into a triumphant smile. She sidled up closer to him, until she looked him directly in the eye, and said, "Oh, I think there's one or two things that a sweet young wife could do for you that your poor old mammy would never even dream of."

  Before Josh could even register the shock of her words, she was gone in a swish of calico. He stared after her as his startled brain formed some very interesting images concerning the begetting of that row of towheaded youngsters. Only when the pretty blond woman in his fantasy announced that she didn't want any more children did Josh emerge from his fog. Shaking his head to dispel that ugly vision, he frowned as old memories came back to haunt him. No, he was being foolish to consider marriage. Women brought only trouble. He knew that too well. Turning on his heel, he continued on his tour of the ranch yard.

  Ordinarily, Josh used this peaceful time after the evening meal to inspect the ranch buildings and make a mental note of anything that needed to be done the next day. Although he had never admitted it, even to himself, he also used this time to renew his bond with his land, to silently enjoy the buildings that were the physical proof of his union with this place.

  But Candace had destroyed any possibility of contentment this evening. Restless, Josh stalked unseeing past the barn and the corrals, not allowing himself to think about what Candace had said. Instead he tried to think about Ortega, the Mexican bandit who came north each spring to rustle cattle from the Texas ranchers and drive them back across the border for sale in Cuba. Every year Josh chased him, and every year the sneaky snake managed to slither back to safety across the border with some of Josh's cattle. This year would be different, however, Josh vowed as he successfully distracted himself from thoughts of the girl. This year he would get Ortega once and for all.

  But as Josh rounded the corner of the barn, he stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of the gaily painted wagon that the men had parked there. Her wagon. He found even the sight of it disturbing, and all thoughts of Ortega vanished from his mind. He was about to turn his back on it when he heard a thumping sound. Someone was inside.

  Felicity took one last look around the place that had been her home for half her life. Everything was in readiness for tomorrow, and she had gathered all her belongings into a bundle to carry back to the house. She could leave now, but she paused one last moment, savoring the familiar sights and scents.

  The interior of the wagon smelled strongly of the chemicals she and her father used for making photographs, the odor of which had long since permeated the wood of the wagon body. The wagon itself had served as an army ambulance during the war. Her father, who had worked as one of Matthew Brady's photographers to memorialize that war, had "requisitioned" it afterward, and put it to good use. Not only had it carried their equipment, but it provided a traveling darkroom for developing their pictures, as well as a place for them to sleep when the weather was bad.

  This wagon had been home to her and her father, and bittersweet memories of those past. times washed over her. Shared laughter, and quiet times, and jostling each other in the dark as they prepared the photographic, plates. Long evenings beside a campfire, and an endless stream of strange towns and stranger people. Tears stung her eyes.

  "What are you…" Josh began, and then the shadowy figure turned and he recognized her. "Oh, it's you," he said, nonplussed by the surge of pleasure the sight of her brought. The rays from the setting sun caught the gold in her hair. "Is anything wrong?" he asked gruffly.

  "No," Felicity said, lifting a hand to her chest to cover the clamoring of her heart. He did look rather forbidding silhouetted in the open doorway like that with the sun making a red-gold nimbus around him. She forced a smile to her Ups. "I was just making sure everything was ready for tomorrow. And I gathered up the rest of my things to take back to the house," she added, picking up the bundle she had made.

  Josh watched her move toward him, involuntarily noticing the slender curves of her body beneath the blue gingham dress and the way her eyes glittered like diamonds and the way the sunlight glowed in her hair. As if she also reflected the heat from the sun, Josh felt himself grow warmer as she approached the doorway, where he stood.

  "Excuse me," she said softly. He stepped back out of her way, reaching up instinctively to help her down the step to the ground.

  Felicity's heart seemed determined to beat its way out of her chest. She kept telling herself that she need not fear Mr. Logan, but the closer she got to him, the more strongly her body reacted to him, as if it were preparing her to run to safety. No wonder she almost gasped when his strong fingers gripped her elbow.

  "Thank you," she murmured, stepping away from him. "I'd better get back to the house now."

  "I'll walk with you," Josh offered, quite against his conscious will. He knew perfectly well that he should stay as far away from this girl as possible. Still, what could it hurt to spend a few extra minutes with her?

  Having rationalized his conduct, he reached out and took the bundle from her. "I'll carry that for you," he said.

  "You… you have a very nice ranch here, Mr. Logan," she said in a frantic attempt to fill the silence that vibrated between them. She still did not look up at him, although she was painfully aware of his every movement as they walked toward the house.

  Josh glanced down at her suspicio
usly, but what he saw confirmed his earlier belief in her ignorance of Candace's plan. Candace could not have coached her very well if she was trying to get on his good side with flattery. Of course, if she started going on about what a big, strong, handsome man he was and how she'd like nothing better than to take care of him for the rest of her life, he'd know he was wrong. He waited, reserving judgment.

  Felicity was too nervous to notice that he had not responded to her statement. "I've seen a lot of ranches, traveling around like we did. Yours is one of the finest anywhere. You must love it very much." What an odd thing to say, she thought, uncertain where such an idea had come from but too flustered to figure it out.

  Josh looked at her sharply. How had she figured that out? "Do you need anything special for tomorrow?" he asked to change the subject.

  "No, I have everything I need. I hope everyone will enjoy the photographs. The posing and the waiting can be a little boring."

  "I doubt that anyone will mind the waiting," he said noncommittally.

  Another awkward silence fell while Felicity cast about for something else to say, sensing that the silence held unseen dangers. "I don't think I ever thanked you for… for all you've done for me," she said at last. "You've been so nice, and I appreciate it very much. The room is lovely and the clothes are the prettiest I've ever owned and everyone has been so kind…"

  She knew she was babbling but could not seem to help herself. They had started up the porch steps, and he stayed with her right across the porch and through the door and into the parlor, as if mesmerized by the sound of her voice.

  "… and I sometimes wish I could stay here forever," she said, instantly shocked by her own boldness. What a thing to say!

  "You can't stay here," Josh said, instantly defensive. He tossed her bundle onto the settee and turned on her somewhat belligerently.

  "I know I can't," Felicity hastily assured him, appalled by the tears that seemed only too ready to blur her vision lately. Blinking furiously, she did not see his expression soften. Nor did she see him reach for her.

  She looked so vulnerable, and he only meant to comfort her, but he had forgotten how wonderful she felt in his arms. He pulled her closer, reaching up to stroke the golden softness of her hair.

  Felicity stiffened instinctively as his arms closed around her, but her natural reserve melted in the warmth of his embrace, the same embrace that had comforted her during the storm. This was what she had been longing for ever since her father's death, someone to hold her and tell her everything would be fine. She surrendered to his strength.

  Sensing her surrender, Josh almost groaned aloud. Her body burned against his like a living flame, scorching wherever it touched. Yet he pulled her closer still, eager for his own destruction. His hands moved over her back, tracing her slenderness, memorizing the feel of her through the thin material of her dress. She was so small, yet so vibrant. Life seemed to radiate from her, and Josh had the vague impression that he could absorb that life into himself, that he could warm his soul on the heat of her vitality, if he could only hold her tightly enough.

  Felicity looked up into his face. His eyes were the color of storm clouds, but she knew he was not angry. She liked those eyes, liked the way the lashes framed them, dark at the base and fading to pure white at the tips, where the sun had bleached them. He smelled of horses and leather and sunshine and Josh Logan. Felicity savored his scent as his hands compelled her closer.

  Her eyes were so blue, but now he noticed that there were tiny golden flecks in them, too, as if the hand that had created her had added them to match the gold in her hair. Dark brown lashes curled up gracefully, and Josh remembered how they had looked brushing her cheeks when she had slept peacefully in his arms. He could see where her dimple would be if it were showing. But it wasn't showing. Her lips weren't smiling. Instead they were parted slightly to allow her sweet breath to sigh out. Her mouth was pink and soft, and he knew just how she would taste, like honey, thick and luscious, dripping from the comb.

  His lips touched hers, closing out light and sound and everything else except the delicious sensation of mouth against mouth. Quite of their own accord, her arms came up, encircling his waist, and she felt as much as heard the moan that started deep in his chest.

  Josh crushed her to him in the futile pursuit for unity, ignoring the warning his subconscious mind was sending him that so delicate a creature might not bear rough handling.

  Felicity felt the change in him, the shift from exploration to desperation. Frightened by forces she did not understand, she tried to break away.

  Startled, Josh released her, and she broke free of his embrace, stumbling backward a few steps before lifting her eyes to him again. They stared at each other in mute horror.

  Felicity lifted the back of her hand to her throbbing mouth. She felt as if she had run a mile, and she noticed that his breath was coming in ragged gasps, too. Mr. Logan had kissed her. The thought was so astounding that it could barely get a foothold in her seething brain. Why would he do such a thing? And why had she allowed it? But how could she have prevented it? And what would happen now?

  Josh could not believe what he had done. The girl was under his protection, and he had grabbed her and kissed her as if she were some two-bit whore. He must be out of his mind. "That didn't happen," he said hoarsely.

  Felicity was only too happy to promote such a delusion. "No, it didn't," she whispered, unable to make her voice work normally.

  He drew a ragged breath and hurried from the house, slamming the door behind him. Out on the porch he tried to roll himself a smoke but found that his hands were shaking too badly. With a curse he flung the mangled mess away and stormed down the steps and across the ranch yard.

  Felicity stared at the door through which he had gone for several minutes, hardly daring to move.

  "Did he kiss you?" Candace inquired casually from the other side of the room.

  "No! Of course not!" Felicity lied, whirling to face the black woman.

  "Oh," Candace replied calmly, noting what a poor liar the girl was. "I wonder whatever made me think a thing like that. Did you fetch your things from the wagon?" she asked, gesturing to the bundle sitting on the settee.

  "Yes." Felicity snatched up the bundle. "Mr. Logan helped me carry my things over to the house. That's all. I… I think I'll go to my room now. I'm a little tired, and tomorrow will be a busy day."

  "Good night then," Candace said, but the girl was already closing the door behind her. Candace smiled smugly. Things were going perfectly.

  Much later Josh entered the bunkhouse, where most of the rest of the men had already turned in for the night. A lamp was burning at the far end of the room, where Josh's bunk was located. He crept silently toward it past the rows of sleeping men. Cody was lying on the bunk next to his, flipping through an issue of The Police Gazette. Looking at the pictures of scantily clad ladies, no doubt, Josh thought. Josh guessed he wasn't the only one around here obsessed with women lately. The boy looked up, smiling a greeting as Josh began to prepare for bed.

  After a minute Cody closed the magazine and stuffed it back under his mattress. He stretched out on his back, propping his hands behind his head. "She sure is a nice girl, isn't she?" Cody asked, apropos of nothing.

  Josh didn't have to ask to whom he was referring, of course. Since he did not trust himself to reply, he did not.

  But Cody needed no encouragement. "Wouldn't it be great if she could stay here? Forever, I mean?"

  Josh felt his nerves stretch taut. Was that all anyone around her could think about? "She can't stay here, Cody," Josh said. "It wouldn't be proper."

  "Oh, I know that," the boy agreed readily enough. "But she could if she was married. You know, if she married… one of us."

  Josh was just about to inform him that such a thing would never happen when he noticed the hopeful gleam in the boy's brown eyes. Cody wanted to marry her himself! Josh could only stare for a long moment. "Turn out the light," he finally managed to
say before slipping into his own bunk.

  He lay there for a long time in the darkness, wondering if the bitter taste in his mouth could possibly be jealousy. But how could he be jealous when he had no feelings for the girl himself? After a while, he reluctantly admitted that he did have some feelings for the girl, but certainly not honorable ones. Not the kind that led to marriage.

  Josh couldn't imagine ever having those kinds of feelings for a woman, not after what his mother had done. The thought of his mother-and of her betrayal-sliced into him with an almost physical pain. She had been gone nearly twenty years, but he could still see her lovely face just as plain as day. He remembered times when she had come into his room at night and kissed him, remembered the softness of her lips, the scent of her perfume. But mostly he remembered the things he wasn't supposed to have seen-his father reaching out to touch her and her lily-white hands pushing him away.

  "Don't, Gideon," she had said.

  "But it's been so long." His father's voice, pleading as Josh had never heard it.

  "I told you, I won't have any more babies. I almost died the last time. You know that." Her voice, shrill and angry.

  Now he was angry, too. "But you're my wife. I have rights."

  And then Josh had run away from the angry voices. He hadn't understood then what they had been arguing about, but he did now. Knowing helped him to understand why she had left finally, but understanding had never helped him to forgive. He also remembered another conversation he was not supposed to have heard.

  "I'll only stay a few months. My mother's sick. She needs me, Gideon," she had said,

  "Don't lie, Amelia. We both know that if you leave here, you'll never come back," his father had replied.

  "I will! I promise!" she had lied again. "I just need some time away. I'm dying here, Gideon, stuck on this ranch alone all the time with no friends and no parties and no fun."

  "You'd leave your son?" he had asked, sending fear coursing through Josh's small body.