Archer, Jane (28 page)

Alexandra stirred the beans slowly, mechanically as they came to a boil, then decided that she could do nothing more for them. The kitchen would have to be cleaned, but not in her riding habit. It was the only one she had. She would simply have to change to something more suitable.

Going back to Jake's bedroom, her bedroom now, Alexandra opened her bags and looked through the assortment of gowns. They all looked heavy, hot, and completely inappropriate for cleaning a kitchen. They even seemed wrong to wear in the hacienda. She would undoubtedly ruin them in no time cleaning. Well, there was nothing to be done, unless—

She slipped out of her riding habit, then folded it carefully before laying it on top of one of the bags. She stood there in her sheer chemise, reveling in the coolness without the hot clothing. She would simply not put anything else on. The men wouldn't be back until late and no one would see her. She'd have time to take a bath and dress before anyone returned. Pleased with her plan, she padded, barefoot, back to the kitchen.

Men, she thought as she looked around herself, had no conception of what a kitchen was supposed to be like. Not that she'd had that much experience, but she'd learned a lot from Ebba. She began sorting the food, putting it away after she'd scrubbed the shelves. It was hard, dirty work, but there was satisfaction in the job, too. The beans were finally getting soft, and she decided to put another large pot of water on to boil, planning to bathe when she finished the kitchen.

Looking up later, she realized that the day was getting on—soon it would be sundown. She thought she heard something outside, but it was too early for Jake and Lamar. She hesitated, listening, but when there was no other noise, she turned back to survey the room. It was sparkling clean. Pushing a strand of hair back from her hot, sweaty face, Alexandra looked up at the open door.

She froze. A man stood there watching her, showing white teeth against a dark, swarthy face as he grinned, his eyes appraising her almost nude body. He was a slight man dressed in dark pants, high boots, a dark red shirt, a blue bandanna tied loosely around his neck; his face was shadowed by a huge, wide brimmed sombrero. His eyes were small, beady and black, and they raked her insolently as he leaned against the door jam, his right hand hovering near the six gun slung low on his hip.

There was only one word for him—deadly. She shuddered, wishing for the first time that Jake had not left her alone. This Mexican was terrifying.

"I've no plan to harm you, chica. Heard about the calvalry patrol and the fine lady they escorted here. Gets a man's curiosity up. You're a pretty gringa, aren't you? Jake's had a change in taste, I see."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm here to visit his uncle, Lamar Jarmon."

The hard black eyes swept over her again, then back to her pale face, with chin held high. "Maybe, little one, maybe, but I know this hombre. You're Jake's woman."

Alexandra flushed vividly red, only too aware of her lack of clothing and this man's leering eyes. "If you don't mind, I'd like to change. Jake and Lamar will return shortly and if you'd care to wait—"

"I'm not here to see them, señorita. I'm here to see you, and you've made that very easy."

"Well you've seen all you're going to see. Now leave!" Alexandra hissed, forgetting the gun in her growing anger.

"Temper? Nice, real nice. I like you. Jake won't mind sharing you with me. After all, I shared Rosa with him until he kicked her out."

"Rosa?" Alexandra asked, a cold feeling beginning to grow in the pit of her stomach.

"Sure, my intended, Rosa. She worked here as a cook, a housekeeper. She was Jake's woman for a while—until he got tired of her."

"Well, I know nothing about that. It happened before I came and doesn't concern me in the least," Alexandra said haughtily.

"It concerns you now, chica. Jake took my woman. I take his. Then we're even. Si?"

"No!"

"You talk too much, little one," he said, beginning to move toward Alexandra.

She stepped back, watching him warily, then screamed before turning to run out of the kitchen.

She could hear his spurs jangling as he came after her. Suddenly, she slipped on one of the rugs and fell heavily to the hard floor of the main room. Groaning, she tried to get up again, but he was on her immediately, grabbing her hands and pulling them up high over her head as he straddled her legs, pinning her to the floor. She screamed and screamed. Someone had to hear her! Cursing a long string of oaths in Mexican and English, the man slapped Alexandra hard across her face.

With his free hand, the man felt of her body, barely covered by the sheer chemise, with quick, experienced movements. She twisted in his grip, trying to free herself. He strengthened his hold, hurting her painfully as she struggled against him, trying to kick, bite, scratch, but he held her pinned to the floor.

"You're a wildcat, aren't you, chica?" he asked hoarsely as his hand reached for the buckle of his belt and began to unfasten it. His black eyes held her wide, green ones, filled with hate and loathing. "That's all the better. I like that. I only wish my Rosa had fought so well."

Suddenly soft, measured footsteps sounded in the room, but before the Mexican could react, Jake said in a low, controlled voice, "I wouldn't move, Pecos, if I were you."

The man over Alexandra tensed, his mouth tightening, but not a muscle moved. He knew how close to death he was as he looked up into Jake's cold blue eyes and the dark muzzle of the drawn forty-five.

"That's my woman you're straddling. Finish only if you don't want to walk out of here alive."

Alexandra had never before heard such deadly calm in anyone's voice. She didn't move either, afraid he'd shoot her, too, if given half a chance. She could see the difference in the man over her. He wasn't quite so sure anymore, even though she could feel the anger seething in him.

"I've no desire to be a dead man, gringo. I only do what is right."

"Hell if you do. Now, very slowly, very easy, throw your gun over here, and don't get smart."

Alexandra lay there, watching the man almost in disbelief. Could this really be happening? Did men really go about solving their differences with guns? Where was the law? But the man slowly, carefully removed the gun barely touching it, then flung it toward Jake's feet.

"Good. That's good, Pecos. Now carefully, remember I'd just as soon shoot you as look at you, the knife. The one you wear in your right boot."

The Mexican scowled, but began to move his free hand down toward his boot. Could the man really be armed with a knife as well as a gun? Alexandra could hardly believe the savagery of this land. But soon the silver blade gleamed for a moment over Alexandra's face before it was thrown beside the gun.

"That's right. I may yet let you live, Pecos. Slowly, very slowly, get up. Be careful not to touch my woman any more. I don't like my woman touched by another."

"Neither do I," the Mexican muttered as he slowly raised himself from Alexandra.

"Don't move, Alex, until I tell you to," Jake commanded. He knew the Mexican was a dangerous and clever hombre. He didn't want him grabbing Alexandra in defense. It could lead to her death.

"For your information, Pecos, Rosa came here wanting work and wanting to get in my bed. I merely obliged."

"Sure, gringo, and you're calling her a—"

"I'm calling her nothing. I'm telling you the facts. She's gone back to her family. Let that end it. It's finished here. As you can see, I've got another woman. Rosa's yours. Leave it at that."

"It may be easy for you to forget, hombre, but I am a man and she is my intended."

"Get out, Pecos, and don't let me see your face or the faces of your amigos on the Bar J again. I want an end to all this. Rosa is nothing to me. She's yours. If I kill you, you won't be able to enjoy all her little delights."

The Mexican flushed darkly, barely holding his temper in check as he walked slowly from the room, feeling Jake's gun pointed at him still. At the door, he turned back, glanced at Alexandra, then back to Jake.

"It's not over, gringo. You've dishonored Rosa. We don't forget that. You'll be hearing from us."

Then he was gone, slipping away as quickly as he'd come.

Jake hurried to the door and watched him ride away while Alexandra cautiously got up from the floor and draped an Indian blanket carefully around herself. When the sounds of the retreating horse died away, Jake holstered his gun, and walked slowly back to Alexandra, his blue eyes hard. He stopped in front of her, then jerked the blanket from around her shoulders and tossed it aside. She still wore only the chemise and was marked with dirt and grime from her afternoon cleaning, but she lifted her chin in defiance.

"That's all you were wearing, Alex?" Jake asked.

"It was hot, Jake. I was cleaning," Alexandra said, her anger growing now that the danger was past. "You said I'd be alone. That man was going to rape me!"

Jake laughed shortly, a harsh sound. "Once a whore, always a whore. You may be able to live without clothes in a brothel, but my dear, in my home, you will clothe yourself properly."

Alexandra exclaimed. "Well, this was appropriate for cleaning. I could hardly wear satins and silks, now could I? You seem to have forgotten that I didn't expect to take the place of Rosa, that Mexican bitch. I'm no whore—"

Jake slapped her, the crack sounding like a shot in the room as his pent up fury finally broke. "Rosa was no bitch. You're the only damn bitch around here, Alex, and you're trouble, nothing but trouble."

She tried to rake his face with her nails, fury pounding in her brain, making everything red and hot. She wanted to hurt him as he'd hurt her, as he was always hurting her. But Jake was swift and grabbed her wrists, twisting her arms behind her, forcing her body against his so that her breasts strained against his chest.

"You'll do as I say, Alexandra. You belong to me," he said gruffly, feeling himself responding to the soft body quivering against him.

"No! I'll never belong to you, you animal!" Alexandra cried, kicking out at him.

Cursing, Jake lifted her up into his arms and strode out of the room. Carrying her into his bedroom, he kicked the door shut behind them, then crossed the room to the bed.

Throwing Alexandra down on it, he said, "You're mine and you know it, Alex. I'll prove it once again since you seem to have such a short memory."

"No! No, Jake," Alexandra cried, struggling as his powerful hands reached out and tore the chemise from her body.

Quickly joining her on the bed, he pulled her legs apart, then pushed his knees up between her thighs. His own anger with Pecos lent fury to his actions and he undid his pants with no thought to Alexandra's own feelings.

Seeing his bulging manhood so ready to take her, Alexandra cried out again, "No! Not like this, Jake."

She struggled, fighting him, but he quickly wrenched her arms behind her back, then grabbed her hips in his hands to pull her toward him, her softness completely exposed to his desires.

Could he never feel that Alexandra was really his? The only time she seemed to respond to him was in bed, when he had pushed her beyond all control. At no other time could he believe that she was completely his, that all the other men were blotted from her mind, her body. Even here in his own home, a man had come and would have taken her. And how much would she have protested?

Furiously he thrust into her, knowing he was hurting her for she was dry, unready, but he wanted it that way. He wanted to hurt her for all the other men, for his inability to conquer her, and so he drove deeper, hearing her cry out in anguish. Then he forgot his reasons, his motives as his flaming desires took over. Blood pounded in his head. He couldn't think. He could only focus on the point of fiery hunger that he drove over and over into her, determined to blot out the others once and for all.

Then he could feel the difference in Alexandra. She wasn't fighting him anymore, but instead was holding him to her in the same urgency that he field her and she was soft and moist inside, letting him slide easily in and out. He covered her lips with his own, plunging his tongue into her mouth as his staff plunged into her softness. She was his! She belonged to him. She wanted him, too. He knew, he could feel her surrender, her acceptance of him. He moved harder, faster, bringing them both to the peak that blotted out reality, leaving only a clear, clean union of their two bodies.

And as he withdrew from her, she moaned, clinging to him, and all his memories suddenly returned. Cursing her as well as himself for his need of her body, he jerked away, sitting up quickly. He had to catch his breath, but he didn't look at Alexandra again until he got up, fastening his pants, for he knew if he saw her soft, yielding body, he wouldn't leave. No matter how he intended to hurt her, it was he that seemed to die a little each time he buried himself deep within her. What was happening to him? He'd never been this hungry for a woman before.

"Get up, Alex, and get dressed. It's time for dinner. I'd like to see how well you cook. Somehow, I imagine that the kitchen is not as familiar to you as the bedroom."

He chuckled at the fury in her face, then quickly left the room before she had time to answer him.

Alexandra flounced off the bed. She'd show him. She'd just learn to cook. It couldn't be too hard. Lots of women did it. So she'd just learn and prove him wrong. Of course, if her body wouldn't turn traitor in his arms, he'd think her less the whore. But when he touched her, she was lost!

Sighing, she walked over to the dresser. Fortunately, she'd brought a clean pail of water into the room earlier, for now she'd never get the desired bath. After quickly washing herself all over, Alexandra began hunting through her bags for something to wear, but nothing was at all appropriate. She finally decided on the coolest looking gown—a low cut, soft green silk with a matching chemise. She slipped these on, hardly aware of how they emphasized her beauty. She put her hair up loosely and decided she was ready. It was the best she could do.

She went into the kitchen. She didn't know what to serve with the beans since she didn't have the right ingredients to make cornbread, the one bread she knew how to make since Ebba had taught her. She knew how to make coffee and after starting that, she decided to serve some dried beef she found.