King's Ransom (27 page)

He clasped her
face in his hands and ran the tips of his thumbs carefully along the line of her
cheeks down to the corners of her mouth, before he pulled her into his kiss
with a low, hungry groan.

He drank from the
comfort of Jesse's touch, seeking solace from her taste just as he'd sought
solace from the empty glass and half-empty bottle on the floor beside the sofa.
Neither took away the slow burn inside his belly.

Finally he
released Jesse's mouth and buried his face in her hair.

"I can't
make it go away," King whispered hoarsely. "I can't even get drunk.
Help me, Jesse Rose. Just help me get through tonight."

King felt her
tears fall in sparse sprinkles on his face and neck, as her mouth captured the
sun-tanned skin on his body in sharp, hungry bites. She moved silently over
him, feeling with every caress of her fingers the growing urgency and need in
his body.

King yearned for
Jesse in a way he'd never imagined possible. Tonight, they both needed to be
reminded of life—death had been too near.

King lay still, a
willing victim of Jesse's tender mercies. When he heard her removing her
clothing in the thick darkness, he quickly followed suit.

Suddenly there
was no time for pretense, no time left to wait for the passion to build.
Urgency took away what was left of will power as King took Jesse into his arms
in one powerful motion, and drove his hard, aching body into her sweet warmth
with a desperate thrust.

The sensation was
devastating. Every muscle in Jesse's body tensed and then pulsed around and on
King. She felt him begin to shudder, heard the harsh gasps for breath as he
thrust into her again and again.

Tiny moans
slipped between their mouths as Jesse took King's breath and traded it for her
own. Her hands clasped tightly behind his neck as her legs wrapped around his
waist, pulling him deeper and deeper into the only solace she could provide.

Release came
suddenly in the form of a white-hot flash of pleasure that sent them both
falling backwards onto the sofa in weak relief.

Jesse sat
straddling his lap, as King buried his face in the gentle swell of her breasts
beneath his searching hands. She felt the tension flowing from his shoulders
and his heartbeat kick into a lower rhythm as all sense of desperation and
urgency passed in the quiet darkness.

"I love you,
King McCandless," Jesse whispered as she gently brushed the damp locks of
his hair from his forehead.

King sighed
softly and pulled her into a fierce hug of thanksgiving. He just wished he
could love himself. Maybe then this awful, growing guilt would disappear, and
he could love Jesse back the way she deserved to be loved.

The following
week was a nightmare Jesse feared would never end. It began with continuous
phone calls, most from old friends, some from journalists, looking for a new
angle to an old story.

The more
confusion that erupted, the farther King withdrew. He didn't communicate with
anyone unless he had to. Even Jesse suffered from his long bouts of moody
silence. She knew he'd eventually come to realize none of this had been his
fault, but it would take time. Nothing she nor anyone said now was getting
through to him. He needed time. She was going to give it to him.

She had to go
back to St. Louis and tie up the loose ends of her old life. She was ready for
a new one.

"Maggie,"
Jesse called down the hallway, "is Turner outside yet?"

"No, honey. But
he should be here soon. Need any help?"

"No,"
she answered, and dashed breathlessly into the living room where Maggie stood
watching for her ride to the airport. "I'm just taking an overnight bag. I
don't plan on being gone more than a day . . . two at the most. I'll spend the
night with my friend Sheila, and use the day to finalize my errands. I'll be
home before you know I'm gone.

"I already
miss, you, honey," Maggie said, hugging Jesse quickly, then returning to
her vigilant post as lookout for Turner and his pickup truck.

Jesse had tried
several times over the last few days to talk to King. She wanted to tell him
about her need to go back to St. Louis for a short time. She had a buyer for
her house, and needed to see her principal at the school and get an official
release from her teaching contract.

But each time she
broached the subject, King would plead an urgent duty or totally ignore her
efforts to get close. He wouldn't touch her except in the most casual of
manners. It was as if their time together had never existed. Jesse was staying
in her own room again, alone and frustrated at King's refusal to share his
sorrow with anyone. He wouldn't even admit he felt sorrow, when in fact he was
utterly miserable.

"He's
here!" Maggie called. And, before she knew it, Jesse was gone. She had a
feeling that when King came home tonight, he wasn't going to like this one bit.

A long, hungry
rumble accompanied the clouds darkening the sky over Tulsa. Maggie looked
anxiously out the window and muttered, "Lord, if you're just teasing, stop
it right now. We've needed rain too long to be disappointed again."

But the thunder
continued, and the sky got darker and darker. Maybe this time it was finally
going to rain.

King hammered the
last nail in place in the big gate separating the house and cattle pastures.
His muscles ached, his blue chambray work shirt had a three-cornered tear
Maggie was going to fuss about, and the perspiration had plastered his Levis to
his long legs with stubborn stickiness. He was tired, dirty, and hadn't felt
this good in weeks. Maybe when he got home this evening, he could talk Jesse
into going out for dinner, that is, if she was still talking to him.

He knew he'd been
uncommunicative. He knew he should have been able to talk to Jesse, but somehow
he just couldn't. He felt
so
responsible for what had happened to her,
and he kept remembering how he'd wanted to kill the man who'd hurt her. No
matter what his brain kept telling him, his heart told him differently. Duncan
was dead, and he'd watched it happen.

But over the past
few days, being back at the ranch and working long, hot hours either with the
men or alone, he'd begun to heal.

Thunder rumbled
across the sky. He looked up in surprise. He hadn't noticed the air cooling, or
the sky darkening. He whistled for Tariq, who was grazing aimlessly along the
fence line, and watched with admiration as the beautiful animal jerked his
head up and answered his call on the run.

"Come on,
boy," King murmured, as he slipped his tool belt into the saddle bag.
"We better get off this hill before we fry."

He wasn't anxious
to be a target for the lightning he saw in the gathering clouds. "Let's go
home."

King made it to
the house just ahead of the first deluge. The clouds opened and literally
poured water onto the arid land. The drought was over.

"Where's
Jesse?" King asked, as he wandered back to the kitchen where a very stern
Maggie was preparing the evening meal.

"Gone,"
she announced shortly. She, too, was irked at King's continuing silences. If
he'd listened, he would have known where Jesse had gone.

King felt the
floor tilt beneath him. A dull, aching throb began behind his eyelids. He could
barely speak.

"Where?"
he asked softly.

"St.
Louis," Maggie replied. "She tried to tell you for three days, but
you were too busy to listen. It couldn't wait any longer."

"She left
me?" King whispered, and sank down on the bar stool behind him.

Maggie relented
at the look of utter desolation on King's face. He'd suffered enough the last
few days to last a lifetime.

"She'll be
back," Maggie said, and walked over to King. "Come here, boy,"
she said softly. "I need a hug."

King felt her
arms go around his neck as she pulled his head down on her ample shoulder.

"I'm
sorry," he said, past the ache in his throat. He relished the familiar
comfort, yet the empty spot in his heart continued to grow wider. He fiercely
returned her hug.

"I'm not the
one you need to be saying that to, mister," Maggie said. She planted a
swift kiss on his cheek, then turned and busied herself back at the sink. She
didn't want him to see her cry.

Maggie needn't
have worried. King couldn't have seen her tears for the ones blinding him. He
walked slowly out of the house and stood beneath the shelter of the porch as
the rain continued to fall, washing the trees and the land clean from the long
months of stifling dust and heat, as it washed the last remnants of guilt from
King's soul. He watched the day end with a promise in his heart of a better
tomorrow.

"I need a
one-way ticket to St. Louis," King growled. He couldn't believe he was
actually getting back on a damn airplane. But it was the fastest way to get to
Jesse.

"Yes,
sir," the lady behind the ticket counter replied. "Moving, are
you?"

"No!"
King answered, ignoring the curious look on the woman's face.

"Have you
checked your baggage?" she asked, stamping his ticket, then handing it
back across the counter

"Don't have
any," King said shortly, then glared, daring her to continue her nosy
harangue. "I'm coming back today."

"Then you'll
want a round-trip ticket," she announced, and started to pull the ticket
away.

"No, I
don't," he argued, and stuffed the ticket in his pocket. "This is the
last time I willingly get on an airplane. I'm coming home today. If I have to,
I'll buy a car, but I won't get back on another damn tin bird."

He walked away,
already dreading the sick sensation of lifting off the ground and the feeling
of being out-of-control. Jesse better know how much he loved her, because he
wouldn't be able to do much more than shake when he arrived.

Jesse folded the
last of the clothes she intended to take back to Tulsa, and piled the rest in a
stack headed for Goodwill.

The painters had done
a good job of cleaning up her bedroom, yet she could hardly bring herself to
stay long enough in it to get her belongings. Too many bad memories hung
heavily in the air. Her principal was more than happy to release her from her
contract. The certified substitute he hired had proven to be a good teacher. It
was going to work out nicely all around.

Jesse said
goodbye to her friend Sheila, made promises to visit, and breathed a sigh of
relief. Now all she had to do was load her car and she would be on her way home
...
to King. When she got back, if
she had to, she'd kidnap
him
until he stopped
this foolish silence. King was just going to have to learn how to share more
than his body with her. She smiled a slow, secretive smile, and thought to
herself,
But,
his body was a good place to start the sharing process. We'll take it from
there.

She worked in
comfortable silence until the ringing doorbell interrupted her progress.
Assuming that it was probably Goodwill coming to pick up her clothing donation,
she got the shock of her life when a man's large shadow loomed in the doorway.

"King!"
Jesse cried. "Honey, are you all right?"

The look of
desolation in his eyes scared her silly. Had something else happened? She was
almost afraid to ask as she pulled him by the arm into her house.

"You left
me," he accused in a husky voice.

Jesse breathed a
relieved sigh, threw her arms around him in a boisterous welcome, then began
kissing his shirt front. It was as far as she could reach.

"Didn't
Maggie tell you?" Jesse asked, as she cupped his face in her hands.
"I tried to, but you wouldn't listen . . . and this couldn't wait."

King closed his
eyes, turning his face into the palm of her hand, tracing her lifeline with the
tip of his tongue, then grabbed her roughly and pulled her off the floor.

"Jesse,"
he whispered against her lips. "I'm so sorry, baby. I know I should have
been able to talk . . . especially to you. But somehow it got all twisted up in
my head. I felt like it was my fault. It took days for that feeling to lessen.
I need you to make it go away."