But it was too late. When she looked at the combatants again, it was to see Colt already down, with the Apache on top of him. She nearly fainted with the realization she could never reach them in time to stop it. She could only watch, as the others were doing, as the Apache immobilized Colt’s only defense by holding his knife hand to the ground with his own left hand and prepared to stab him with the right.
Jocelyn swung around, unable to bear witnessing the fait accompli, but it was a complete turn she made, for she couldn’t bear not knowing either. And in those mere seconds, Colt had pulled off the impossible. He was now on top, his knife at the Apache’s throat.
“What? How?”
Sir Parker seemed disgusted by the outcome. “The Indian didn’t have the strength to keep his arm pinioned. Thunder managed to bring his knife over to block the stab. The Indian lost his blade in the process, and his balance, since he was still holding onto Thunder’s wrist when it happened.”
Jocelyn started to smile, but it wasn’t over yet. Or was it? Colt got up slowly, reached behind him to cut free his right hand, then offered his left to help his opponent rise. So he hadn’t killed the Apache, though the man’s lack of movement until then had made her think otherwise. But the defeated man refused his offer, got slowly to his own feet, and moved directly to his horse.
Colt waited there until the Apache had rejoined his companions and they had all ridden away. He then mounted up and returned to the coaches, annoyed to see the duchess still outside hers. When he stopped by her, her eyes seemed anxious as they roved over his body, looking for signs of blood. She also seemed relieved to find none, and that annoyed him even more. He didn’t want this woman worrying about him. Her concern worked like talons against his heartstrings, making him feel…Christ, just more frustration because he could never have her.
“I’m glad you didn’t kill him.” She smiled up at him.
Her smile brought out his worst frown. “Are you? Were he Cheyenne, I would’ve had to, for my people would rather die than face the disgrace of defeat. But Apache customs differ in many ways from mine. They prefer to live to fight another day, so I’ve allowed him that.”
That got rid of her smile. “And if that other day brings him back to try for Sir George again?”
“It won’t. I told him the stallion was mine. That being the case, as he saw it, his only chance to gain him was to kill me, which he failed to do.”
“You mean you…he…Sir George would have…” She gritted her teeth for a second in extreme agitation, completely forgetting her soaring relief of a moment ago that he was alive and unhurt. “What, pray tell, would have happened if you had lost?”
Colt infuriated her even more by grinning before drawling, “That wouldn’t have been my problem, Duchess, now would it?”
Chapter Nineteen
Vanessa gave a weary sigh as she watched Jocelyn through the coach window, stirring up a great cloud of dust as she exercised Sir George. She didn’t ride the stallion far anymore, not since that encounter with the Apaches, which Vanessa was still grateful she only had to hear about instead of witness. Against a vivid blue sky the duchess made a splendid picture, despite the drab landscape surrounding her.
It was getting depressing, that drab landscape, though Jocelyn seemed not to mind in the least. At one point lavender mountains had surrounded them on every horizon, but so far in the distance they seemed unreachable. More than anything else had been the endless stretches of flat, parched land, cracked in more places than not, the only green an occasional cactus, everything else, from scrub brush to patches of wilted grass, all washed silver by the blazing sun.
Did it never rain in this part of the world? Since they had left that violence-invested town of Tombstone—so aptly named, that—there had been nary a drop. And only one little watercourse in all that time, San Simon creek, which was a mere trickle so late in the year, and muddy, that even baths had been out of the question. If they didn’t carry their own water barrels, they would have been in quite a pickle.
Vanessa didn’t complain, however, not in the least, not since that night she had done so deliberately, just to point out their guide’s orneriness. And to be truthful, she wouldn’t have wanted to miss seeing this part of the country, for it might be drab and tedious and eternally dusty during the daytime, but twice a day, at dawn and sunset, the most magnificent bursts of color appeared. Sometimes the sky seemed to be wreathed in flames, the reds and yellows were so gloriously vivid. And then the moon would rise in such huge grandeur, you felt you could almost reach out and touch it. With such a monstrously large glowing sphere hanging over the horizon, the sky refused to blacken into true night, and campfires were needed only for cooking and warmth.
Jocelyn never failed to be outside to watch these spectacular entertainments from above at the end of each day, but at the same time she would surreptitiously be scanning the camp, hoping for Colt Thunder to appear. He never did. He was still making himself extremely scarce to everyone except his brother, to whom he would give the general directions for each day’s travel.
It annoyed Vanessa no end to see Jocelyn’s disappointment at the close of a day when she hadn’t seen the guide, even from a distance. But what had started some genuine alarm was hearing Jocelyn describe the encounter with the Apaches, and sensing the underlying emotions she had experienced in the watching, especially when she retold how close Colt had come to dying. The girl had gone from facing a dilemma to having Colt solve it, to horror at the way he solved it, to anguish at the thought of his death, to overwhelming relief that he survived, ending with total vexation with the man that unfortunately didn’t last long.
It was the worry and concern for this American half-savage that alarmed Vanessa. Those were feelings that led too easily to love, and although Jocelyn hadn’t realized that yet, Vanessa did. Such a happenstance was not to be considered. But it hadn’t happened yet; at least Vanessa prayed it hadn’t. And since Jocelyn was still determined to have the fellow, the only way to assure that love didn’t enter into it was to get the deflowering over with as soon as possible and Colt Thunder sent on his way.
But there was a very big obstacle to seeing that accomplished, besides the fact that Thunder was rarely around. Simply put, he was the only guide they had, and until they came to some sort of civilization where he could be replaced, they were stuck with him.
As it happened, however, the rough terrain they had been crossing at such a brisk speed had played havoc with the vehicles, as well as with the animals, and a blacksmith’s services were seriously in need. There was enough work to hold them up for at least several days. Their guide could no longer steer them around towns, if there had even been any to steer around in all this time.
“I’ll say one thing for him,” Vanessa remarked as they rolled into Silver City late the next morning. “At least it’s not a one-street town with a four-room hotel he’s brought us to for repairs…brought grudgingly, I might add.”
Jocelyn didn’t turn from the window where she was viewing this newest Western town with interest. “You know he’s right about avoiding towns, Vana.”
“I suppose,” the countess allowed, but she was still chagrined over the fact that they had entered New Mexico several days ago and hadn’t known it. “It would have been nice if he had deigned to inform us of the progress we had made in crossing into a new territory. Do you suppose he’ll inform us when we reach Wyoming?”
Jocelyn turned with a grin on hearing one of Vanessa’s driest tones. “As a guide he’s done very well, hasn’t he, especially since he never professed to be a guide? We’ve gotten this far without mishap. And need I add that he wasn’t hired to give us a tour of the countryside?”
“Speaking of why he was hired, I think you ought to take advantage of our delay here and see the thing accomplished. A room to yourself should help, and you can use any pretext to get him alone in it. After that, one thing should lead to another, and—”
“You’re forgetting one min
or little point,” Jocelyn interrupted, no longer grinning. “He doesn’t like me.”
“I wouldn’t go so far as to say that, my dear.”
“I would. He’s gone out of his way to prove it. Nor does he find me even a little bit attractive.”
Vanessa almost snorted. She settled for “Bosh. Has it occurred to you yet, my girl, that he might be tempted but feel he doesn’t dare bestow his amorous attentions on someone of your importance?”
“He’s not an Englishman, or even a European who would notice class differences, Vana. Didn’t his brother give Sir Dudley a dressing-down about the importance Americans place on equality?”
“Indeed he did, but we’re talking about an American of a different breed here, one who snubbed you in public to protect your own reputation, or had you forgotten that? And ‘importance,’ I will allow, was the wrong word to use. What I meant was someone of your…color.”
“Because I’m what he calls a white woman?” Jocelyn gasped with belated understanding. “Good Lord, do you think that’s all it is?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. At the very least, it might explain why he’s gone to such trouble to, shall we say, frighten you into keeping your distance from him.”
“But…how do I get around that?”
“A good question. He’s already been informed that his half-breed status means nothing to you, so either he is prejudiced himself, but in the reverse, which I sincerely doubt, or he has misinterpreted all your signals for the simple reason that he doesn’t believe you could actually desire someone like him.”
“I don’t like either of those possibilities, Vana,” Jocelyn said stiffly in Colt’s defense.
“But the second one does seem the most likely.”
“I can’t believe that he would have such a low opinion of himself.”
“My dear, you can’t imagine what his life has been like, or what circumstances have formed that life to make him how he is today. So let us just suppose for a minute that I am right. If he still isn’t aware that you desire him, the thing to do is make him aware of it.”
“I shall simply tell him.”
“No—you—will—not!” Vanessa replied with appalled vehemence. “Where in the world did you get the idea that my suppositions are infallible? I will not have you suffering the most horrid embarrassment should I be wrong. On the other hand…it wouldn’t hurt if you were a teeny bit more blatant in the matter of this seduction.”
“A teeny bit?”
Vanessa smiled conspiratorially. “One of your French negligees when you receive him alone in your room, perhaps? That ought to take care of the matter most quickly.”
“And get me raped most foully,” Jocelyn retorted.
“Well, if you’re going to take that attitude—”
“Now don’t get all huffy.” Jocelyn grinned. “It’s a good idea. I’m just not sure it will bear the right results. He has warned me not to be alone with him again, and he does get awfully mean when I don’t heed his warnings.”
“But that’s just it, love. Why would he warn you off if not for his own sake, because the temptation is just too great for him to easily resist? It sounds to me as if that man wants you as much as you do him, if not more. Get past his defenses and you have him.”
A tingling excitement rushed into Jocelyn’s belly at those encouraging words. “God, Vana, I hope you’re right.”
I do too, dearest, Vanessa replied, but to herself.
Chapter Twenty
Jocelyn could not sit still as she waited for Colt to knock on her door that evening. He couldn’t refuse to come this time. After all, he worked for her now. And she had even come up with a legitimate excuse for summoning him, to ask how much longer it would take to reach Wyoming. In making the decision to go there, she had not once considered where this place was or how long to get there.
Vanessa might have complained that they would be traveling for weeks, but she had been joking. The truth was, neither of them had ever heard of Wyoming before Billy Ewing had mentioned it, and all they knew about it was that it was “up north.” Silver City, according to the hotel clerk, was in the southwestern half of New Mexico, and what with the winter months approaching, the time and distance they had yet to travel had become a matter of some concern, especially when Jocelyn needed to be settled someplace before her mares were ready to foul in the spring.
So she had a good excuse for demanding Colt’s presence. And if he was crass enough to make some comment about the way she was attired, well, she had an excuse ready for that too. The late hour, fatigue from the long day, and the assumption that he wasn’t coming, since she had sent for him hours ago.
Actually, Pearson and Sidney had only just been dispatched to find him and send him to her room. Vanessa had insisted that the scene be completely set beforehand, in case they located Colt immediately.
Jocelyn could not fault that reasoning, or the atmosphere Vanessa had helped to create. The mussed-up bed, as if Jocelyn had already been in it; all but one lamp extinguished, and that one dim. But the crowning touch was herself, bathed and perfumed and draped in shimmering satin so thin, it was utterly indecent.
She would not have chosen this particular negligee if left to herself, but she bowed to Vanessa’s judgment since she was more experienced in these matters. It was new, created by a French modiste they had discovered in New York, and ordered on a whim after Jocelyn had met Charles Abington and matrimony had first entered her mind. A lime green that was almost the exact color of her eyes, the gown was simplicity itself, gathered at the shoulders, clinging to waist and hips, without trim, and with a loosely draped neckline so low that the material only covered her breasts as long as she remained in an upright position. The matching long-sleeved robe was bordered with white lace, but had not a single clasp or tie to close it with, not even a belt, since its purpose was not to conceal the gown, but to teasingly frame it.
The final touch was her hair, freshly washed and brushed until its shine rivaled that of the satin. It was left unconfined to flow as it would, down her back or over her shoulders, depending on her movements.
“He saw it like this when you met, but you mark my words,” Vanessa had told her after she finished brushing those flaming locks herself. “Tonight he won’t be able to resist finding out if it burns to the touch.”
Only Jocelyn had not been reassured, had instead remembered that Colt’s fingers had already been in her hair, painfully; and along with the nervous excitement she was feeling, there was a certain amount of trepidation. But she couldn’t deny she wanted Colt Thunder, so she was willing to risk all on the hope that tonight would be different from those other times she had been alone with him. Tonight he would be the gentle lover she had dreamed about ever since she had made the decision, a few hours after meeting him, that he would be the one to introduce her to lovemaking. If she allowed the uncertainty to intrude, she would never have the courage to open the door when he knocked.
Waiting for that knock had her jumping at the slightest little sound, especially as the minutes turned into hours and the town outside her window quieted. The servants must be having trouble locating him. She should have anticipated that. But one of them would find him, and then he would come immediately, which could be any second now.
So she kept telling herself, increasing her agitation, not by slow degrees, but in leaps and bounds as she walked to the window to look out on the sloping roof of the hotel porch, then over to the bed made up in her own silk sheets. Here she would try to sit, but after a breath or two she was up and moving about, over to the full-length mirror that threw back a reasonably clear image of a pale young woman who looked totally alien to her. She would slap her cheeks for some color, then be off again, over to the door to see if she could hear footsteps approaching, then back to the window to start the whole process once more.
Unfortunately, it was not a very large room, though she had been told it was the largest to be had. No suites here, and only two floors of rooms, so
not all of her people had been accommodated, some sent to the boardinghouse down the street, some electing to stay with the vehicles. Because she couldn’t have the whole floor to herself, a guard was stationed outside her door, but she never heard a peep from him when she listened there, again, and again, and again.
If Colt didn’t show up soon, she was going to be a nervous wreck when he did, and how then would she convince him she was surprised to see him, that she had been “sleeping”? Blast the man, what was taking…?
It felt as if her belly dropped several inches when the knock finally sounded, and all she could do was stare at the door, immobilized by a total loss of composure, not to mention courage. So when the door unexpectedly opened to reveal Vanessa instead of Colt, Jocelyn’s relief was so great she nearly collapsed with it.
“I’m sorry, dear,” Vanessa said in a whisper before she closed the door, then added in a more normal, though regretful tone, “They’ve looked everywhere, the other lodging houses, the saloons, the—ah—more unsavory establishments. He’s being true to form, as elusive as he was on the trail. Not even his brother has seen him since we arrived in town.”
“It’s all right, Vana. We’ll be here a few days. We can try again tomorrow.”
“You’re taking this awfully well. I would be spitting mad, after all the preparation—”
“What preparation?” Jocelyn grinned in her relief. “It’s not as if I spent hours dressing for a ball. I prepared myself for bed—”
“You prepared yourself for a man, which is not the same thing at all.” But then the countess added knowingly, “Was it so terrible, the waiting?”
“Excruciating.” Jocelyn laughed. “There is much to be said for spontaneity.”
“And much more to be said for a well-planned seduction,” Vanessa retorted. “You’ve tried spontaneity without results, if you’ll recall.”