Lorraine Heath (29 page)

“Thought it could use a good washing,” Maura said as she came past the quilt. “Did I do something wrong?”

Dropping the pillow, Jake shot off the bed. “No, no. You’re right. It needed to be washed.”

Lord, he had to let go. It wasn’t easing his ache any to hold on. “I reckon I don’t need this hanging up anymore either.” He yanked on the quilt suspended from the ceiling, bringing it to the floor. “It probably needs washing, too.”

He looked around the house. What else was chaining memories to him?

“What’s that little girl of yours sleeping in?” he asked.

“Bri picked up a crate at the general store last time he was in town. She’s so tiny now, it’ll do her for a while.”

“Why don’t you take that cradle?”

Maura glanced at the cradle, feeling guilty because she had thought many times of asking for it.

“Nah. I canna take it. You put a lot of love into the making of that fine cradle.”

“I got no use for it. Take the rocker, too,” he said as he headed out the door.

Maura ran her hand lovingly over the cradle, wondering how Rebecca could have left it. Her head jerked up when she heard Jake come back into the house, turning his hat in his hands.

“I changed my mind.”

“Canna blame you for that,” Maura said.

“Why don’t you and Brian move in here? I got no need for a house. I’m seldom here, and I mostly watch the herd at night. All I need is a bed. Got plenty of those in the bunkhouse.”

Maura rocked back on her heels. “But you’re the owner, man. You canna sleep with the workers.”

“Where I sleep won’t change what I am. I want y’all to move in here. I should have built you a house as soon as I realized you were going to stay. Man and wife ought to have a house.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

Jake shrugged. “Say yes.” He set his hat on his head. “Thanks, Maura.”

She wasn’t sure exactly what the man was thanking her for. She was the one who should be thanking him.

As Jake walked out of the house, Frank pulled the wagon up in front of the barn and hopped down.

“Got the supplies!” he called out as he ambled over, his face beaming. “Got this, too.” He held out an envelope.

Jake took the worn envelope from him, handling it carefully. He read it before casually slipping it into his pocket.

“It’s from Reb,” Frank explained.

“I can see that.”

“Maybe she’s writing because she wants to come back and needs some money,” he said hopefully.

Jake shook his head. “I gave her money when she left.”

“Ain’t you even going to read it?”

“Later,” Jake said as he reached for the reins of his horse.

Frank grabbed his arm, then released it, and began an intense study of the soil beneath his feet. He looked back up, meeting Jake’s questioning gaze squarely. “I was wondering … well … I asked Arlene to marry me and, hot damn, she said yes. We’ll be getting married at the end of the month, and I was wondering if you’d stand with me.”

Jake quirked a brow, a small smile on his face. “Hot damn?”

Frank turned red, obliterating the freckles that covered his face. “Yeah. Her eyes tum brown otherwise. I figured out I need to keep those eyes green if I want her to be happy.”

Jake’s smile broadened. “I’d be honored to stand with you. Are you planning on staying on here?”

“Reckon so. Don’t know how to do anything else, and been spending my money, so I can’t buy us a spread yet.”

“Why don’t you take Arlene for a ride, find a spot the two of you like, and I’ll build you a house.”

“Goddamn! I mean, hot damn! You mean it?”

Jake’s smile grew into a grin. It was going to be a while
before Frank could keep those eyes green. “Yes. And take Maura and Brian with you. Let them pick out a spot.” He decided Maura and Brian’s brood would need a bigger place than his. “Guess if we’re going to have all these families here, I’d best start providing them with decent places to live.”

Frank took Jake’s hand, shaking it so fiercely that Jake thought Frank might have dislocated his shoulder. The young man went to unload the supplies and Jake rode off to visit a place he hadn’t been to since Rebecca had left.

Sitting on the hillside, Jake removed the envelope from his pocket, turning it over and over in his hand, weighing it, trying to decide whether he really wanted to know what was inside. He tore open the end, reached in, and pulled out the single sheet of paper.

He ran his finger over her smudged signature before carefully folding the letter back up and slipping it into his pocket, over his heart. She was in Montana, and he was here, and the chasm separating them was widening with each passing day.

Studying the man sitting before her, Rebecca was often reminded of her father. Brett wore a woolen suit every day, even when he rode the range. She couldn’t recall ever seeing him actually get down off his horse and put in any hard labor on the ranch in Kentucky either. He hadn’t worn a suit then, but she remembered him barking out orders even though he had only been at the Lazy A a few months. And she remembered men jumping to do his bidding. He simply had a mien that spoke authority. She tried to remember when it was that she first decided she loved him, and more
and more often she found herself wondering exactly why it was she loved him. She inhaled deeply, ignoring the fluttering in her stomach. “How would you feel if I was pregnant?”

Brett’s fork halted halfway to his opened mouth as his eyes snapped from the plate to her. Slowly he lowered his fork, his mouth closing tightly, his jaws working to unclench.

“To be honest with you, Rebecca, I wouldn’t like it much. Do you think Jake would come and take it after it was born?”

The invariable
it
again.

“I’m sure he would,” Rebecca said. “But I’m not sure I’d want him to. Part of the baby would be me.”

Brett looked down at his plate, moving the beans from one side to the other and then back again.

“I could never love it. I could never accept it as my own.” His eyes came up to hers. “But I’d never abuse it. When’s it due?”

“It’s not. I’m not pregnant.”

“Then why the hell did you ask such a damn fool question?” he bellowed.

“Because Jake accepted your child as his long before it was born, and I was just wondering if all men would do the same or if Jake was just special.”

Brett held up his fork, pointing it in her direction.

“I’ll tell you what Jake Burnett is—a fool. He was married to you and he let you go. Let me assure you now, Rebecca, I’ll never let you go. I love you too much. Once you’re mine, you’re staying mine.”

“Even if it would make me happier to leave?”

“I love you more than Burnett ever did, could, or would love you. I’m telling you now, woman, once we’re married, it’s for life. I love you too damn much to ever let you go.”

And Jake had loved her too much to ever make her stay. She wondered which love was the strongest.

Brett walked into the foyer. Rebecca gave a low whistle, coming to stand before him, running her hands up his white shirt.

“Don’t you look nice? Are we doing something special this evening?”

He averted his eyes. “I’m going into town.”

Removing her hands from his chest, she said, “It’s too late to buy supplies. And it’s a Saturday night. What are you going into town for?”

He released a short breath. “Look, Rebecca, you have a need to remain faithful to Jake until those damn divorce papers get here. I understand that. You gotta understand that I have needs, too, and there’s a little blonde in town that’ll take care of my needs.”

“I see. And how much does she charge you?”

“Charge me? Darling, women don’t charge me anything. As you are well aware, it is an honor and a privilege to have me make love to a woman. Hell, some of them have even offered to pay me.” He hesitated, judging the wisdom of his next words. “But I’ll stay here if you’ll unlock your bedroom door to me.”

Rebecca was shocked, realizing that the only way he could have known her door was locked was if he’d tried to open it after she’d gone to bed. “And why were you trying the lock on my door?” she asked.

“Because I love you, and I want you so much it hurts, and I’m getting damned tired of waiting!” He looked contrite. “Should I stay?”

“No, but I appreciate the opportunity to compete with the whore.”

He brushed his lips against hers. “Don’t wait up. I probably won’t be back until morning.”

She knew she had no right to be upset. She wasn’t giving him anything, and men did have powerful urges to mate. She squeezed her eyes tight, forbidding the tears to come. So he had never had to pay a woman to want him.

She walked to her bedroom, undressed herself, and slipped into bed, wrapping her arms around a pillow. She wondered what Jake was doing this Saturday night, if he was watching the herd so all the other men could go into town for a little recreation. Time was passing much too slowly up here in Montana. She shouldn’t be thinking of
Jake at all, but she did, every night before she went to sleep. And she missed him terribly.

The flaming red curtains whispered in the open window, the red satin pillows thrown hither and thither around the room. A solitary candle sought to provide an intimacy to an intimate act which under the circumstances was anything but intimate.

“You can just set the two dollars on the dresser there, darlin’,” Velvet directed the man standing uncertainly beside the door, looking as though he might dart out if she moved too quickly. If she hadn’t closed the door, he wouldn’t even be in the room.

Looking at the lace doily resting on top of the scarred wooden dresser, the only decoration in the room that he thought was homey, he dug down into the pocket of his pants and brought out the two required coins, laying them quietly on the dresser.

“Did you take a bath before you came? The madam insists that our patrons be clean.”

For the first time since she had started flirting with him downstairs, he met her gaze squarely. She had never before seen such beautiful eyes on a man.

“Yes, ma’am, I did.”

“Then come here, darlin’.”

Torn between putting off the inevitable and rushing to get it over with, Jake walked over to Velvet, her red corset laced so tight he wondered how she could breathe. The woman wasted no time in placing her hands on his shoulders, turning him slightly and pushing him gently down on the bed. She swung a leg over his lap, presenting her firm backside as she lifted his foot and grabbed his boot.

“Just put your foot on my butt and give me a little shove, darlin’.”

Jake closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, wondering why the hell he had come, knowing full well why. “I’d rather not, ma’am. I can take them off.” Velvet glanced over her shoulder. “It won’t hurt me.” “I can take them off.”

She shrugged, swinging her leg high and turning to clear
his lap. She had once danced the cancan in fancy saloons, but the money wasn’t as good and men were always pawing her. She had figured then she might as well get paid for their pawing. She stood back, watching the man slowly removing his boots. She never asked her clients their names—she didn’t want to know them. They’d never speak if their paths crossed on the street anyway. And Velvet wasn’t her real name, so what did it matter if she didn’t know their names?

“This your first time, darlin’?” she asked.

Jake set the boot down and looked up at the buxom redhead, her breasts straining to break free of the material keeping them imprisoned. She had pretty violet eyes, and he figured that was the only color on her that she had been born with. Nature couldn’t make hair that red or skin that white.

“No, ma’am.”

His eyes left her as he set about removing the other boot, and she studied him. Men came to see her for all kinds of reasons: they were lonely, hurting, missing someone special. He was here for all those reasons and more. Sometimes men would jump on her as soon as the door closed, be done in less than a minute. This man was not one of them.

“Was she pretty?” Velvet asked in a soft, understanding voice.

The brown eyes snapped up to hers, the pain reflected in them making her hate a woman she didn’t even know.

“I’d rather not talk about her, if you don’t mind,” he said, easing his shirt out of his pants and beginning to undo the buttons.

Velvet shoved herself away from the wall. She straddled his lap, placing warm hands on the back of his neck, kneading his muscles.

“No, darlin’, I don’t mind. It’s your money. You just tell Velvet what you want.”

He looked away from her, gauging his answer. Then his eyes met hers, his voice hoarse. “I want … I want you to want me.”

She pressed him down on the bed, laying her body on
top of his. “I do, darlin’, I do want you,” she said in the sultry voice she had perfected over the years.

It wasn’t unusual for men to be depressed, sad, just plain down when they stepped into Velvet’s room, but they usually didn’t step out that way. She had the distinct impression that the man lying on top of her was feeling worse now than he had before. He had called out a name, and she was certain it was the name of the woman who had hurt him. She didn’t like to care about the men who came to see her; it just wasn’t good for business. But she was finding it increasingly difficult not to care about this one. His trembling stopped, and she ran her hands along his firm back.

“Since you’re already here, darlin’, if you’d like, I’ll want you again for a dollar.”

Jake lifted his head from where it had been buried in her flaming red hair. “No, ma’am.” He eased himself off of her and began putting his clothes back on. “But thank you anyway.”

Velvet pulled herself to a sitting position, her back against the red velvet headboard that had been specially made and ordered out of New Orleans. She drew her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms tightly around her legs, resting her chin on her knees.