King's Ransom (9 page)

"Sure,"
Maggie urged, bustling about the kitchen. "Go on to your room, honey. I'll
be there shortly and help you get ready for bed."

"I think
I'll be fine," Jesse said, and then caught herself before she refused all
offers of help. There was one thing her hands still weren't strong enough to
tackle. The faucets on the bathtub in her room were old and stiff. She knew
she'd never get the water on.

"There's
just one thing
I
may need help with and King can do that,
dear," she said. Maggie looked worn to a frazzle. It had been a long day
for someone her age as well. "You know how stiff the faucets are on my
bathtub. I'll need someone to run my bath. Maybe in a day or two, when my hands
get stronger, I won't have to ask."

"Sure I can,
Jesse." King had also noticed how exhausted Maggie seemed to be. They were
all so used to her coping with every aspect of ranch life that they hadn't
noticed she was growing older. It was good that Jesse was back. Maggie needed
company. "You go on to bed, too, Maggie. I'll lock up and see to Jesse's
needs. After all, I haven't done such a bad job for the last few days, have I, Jess?"

Jesse smiled
shyly and turned away, suddenly afraid he would see more in her expression than
she wanted him to.

Maggie didn't
argue. She just gave Jesse a weary hug before heading toward her own rooms off
the kitchen area. "Sleep tight," she called back, and then closed her
door.

"Come on,
Jesse Rose," King teased. "You're next. By the time I get all my
women put to bed, it'll be time to get up."

All his women
indeed! Jesse glared at his back as they walked down the hallway leading to the
bedroom wing and wrinkled her nose at him in teasing fashion, knowing full well
he couldn't see her actions.

"Just
because you have no middle name," she muttered, "doesn't mean you
need to wear mine out."

"Well,"
King answered, stating his point with unequivocal assurance. "After naming
a baby King, what in hell else could follow?"

Jesse grinned and
followed him into her room. She watched him disappear into her bathroom, and
heard the sounds of water splashing full force into the depths of the
old-fashioned claw-foot tub. She loved it, and had refused offers of having a
new model installed years ago. It was long and deep, and was ideal for soaking.
But the fixtures were old and stiff and resisted all but the firmest of grips.

"It's
running," King announced, as he entered the bedroom area. "Need any
help unpacking? I don't know what Sheila included, but if you don't have something
you need, just make a list. I'll take you to
Tulsa
anytime you want to go."

"I'm sure I
can manage," Jesse said, and continued to search through the open bags
while King waited for the tub to fill. Her hands felt the familiar, well-worn
softness. She smiled, pulling a faded, black, oversized T-shirt from beneath
the neatly folded lingerie. Thank goodness for Sheila! She remembered.

"It's my
favorite," Jesse said gleefully, holding it up under her chin and spinning
around to the mirror over her dresser.

King watched the
look of glee on Jesse's face and then saw what had made it appear. He didn't
know whether to laugh or taste the smile on her face. The feeling that pulled
at him was unfamiliar and probably marked the beginning of a sleepless night.
He couldn't get past the image that flashed in his mind of taking that damn
"Bo Knows" T-shirt off her body and making sure he was the only one
who "knew" Jesse LeBeau.

"The tub's
running over," Jesse cried, and dashed toward the bathroom, right behind
King.

"Sorry,"
he mumbled, mopping at the floor with the fluffy white towels Maggie had
provided. She was going to kill him for using them on the floor, but he'd
grabbed them before he thought. "I'll get you fresh towels," he
offered, then grinned sheepishly at the look of merriment on Jesse's face.
"If you don't tell Maggie."

They both burst
out laughing and the tenseness he'd felt moments earlier disappeared. He didn't
know what was getting into him. Jesse didn't deserve his betrayal at this
crucial time in her life, and he had no intention of frightening her with any
sort of out-of-character behavior. She'd suffered all the surprises she needed
for the time being.

"I'll be
fine now," she said, pushing him out the door of her room. "And,
King," she called as he entered the door of his room across the hall,
"thanks for everything."

She closed the
door without waiting for an answer and King felt oddly alone.

Jesse had dawdled
long enough. She'd unpacked, admired the flowers, taken a long, soaking bath,
done the prescribed exercises on her hands, brushed haphazardly at her hair,
and knew it was time. She was going to have to get in bed, turn out the lamp,
and try to sleep. Just the thought of closing her eyes made her sick. She
rubbed sweaty palms down the sides of her "Bo Knows" T-shirt and
silently cursed the helpless feeling that was threatening to overwhelm her.
Logically she knew she was safe. King was just across the hall. No one could
hurt her here. But logic was lost in the terror that took over her senses when
the lights went out and she was in bed . . . alone.

"Damn
him," Jesse muttered aloud. "I won't let what that creep did—or tried
to do to me—ruin the rest of my life. I won't."

She walked around
the familiar old four-poster bed, pulled back the lightweight coverlet and
crawled on her knees up into the middle of the mattress. The central air
conditioning made sleeping under a sheet quite comfortable, but Jesse couldn't
bring herself to lie down or turn out the lights. Finally, she allowed herself
the luxury of just leaning against the nest of pillows at her back. She was so
tired. She'd only close her eyes for a moment. She wouldn't turn out the light,
not just yet . . . not until she accustomed herself to her old room again . . .
and the shadows . . . and the night sounds in the country. She fell asleep
within minutes, curled into a tight little ball. And, in spite of all her
determination, she began to dream.

It was always the
same—the instant knowledge that she wasn't alone, the awful smell of an
unwashed body, the odor of alcohol, the rough ugly words . . . and the knife.
Jesse moaned softly, tossing about as she lay uncovered in the middle of the
bed, kicking weakly in her sleep. The moans became a plea for mercy, the plea
became a cry, the cry a scream.

King was on his
feet and inside her room before he fully realized he'd gotten out of bed. But
he knew v/hat was wrong with Jesse the instant her terrorized screams had
pierced his sleep.

Hesitating no
longer than the time it took him to reach her bed, he scooped Jesse up into his
arms with a single motion and spoke her name aloud in a calm, soothing tone of voice.
She was awake almost instantly.

It took another
moment before the tears came, but when they did, they were cleansing; washing
away the nightmare King had put to an abrupt end.

"Is she all
right?" Maggie asked, trying to mask the panic she'd felt as she heard
Jesse's pitiful cry. She'd reached the room only seconds behind King and had
seen the natural way he'd handled the tense situation. Instinctively, he'd done
the right thing. She took in the sight of the scantily clad girl, the big,
half-dressed man holding her tightly, and squashed the thought that crept into
her heart.

"She will be
now," King said, lowering Jesse to the floor, refusing to relinquish his
hold on her. "We've been through this before, haven't we, Jess?"

Tilting her chin
back with the tip of his finger, he wiped away the last of her tears and
sighed. "It's okay, Maggie. Go back to bed. I'll stay with her for a
while. I should have anyway. She hasn't been alone since the attack and this
was just to be expected."

"I'm
sorry," Jesse whispered, as she leaned weakly against King's strength. She
felt his heartbeat against the back of her head, and knew by the race of the
rhythm that she'd frightened him as much as she'd frightened herself. "I
seem to be saying that a lot lately, Maggie. You didn't know what you were
letting yourself in for when you and King wanted me here, did you?"

The quiver in
Jesse's voice and the vulnerability in her brimming eyes was enough for Maggie.
Whatever it took to make her girl whole again was going to have to be all
right.

"Don't be
silly," she answered. "You're not a bother. You're family. Now, King,
you go on and do whatever you've been doing to help our girl get through
this."

She wiped at her eyes
and pulled nervously at her long, grey braid, then bustled out of Jesse's
bedroom, talking to herself as she disappeared down the hall. "Whatever it
takes . . . that's what we're going to do. Whatever it takes."

King took in her
tear-stained face, the rumpled T-shirt, the bare legs beneath, and knew he was
asking for trouble. But for Jesse's sake, he didn't have a choice.

"Come here
to me," King beckoned in a husky voice, and took her with him across the
hall. Turning back the covers on his king-sized bed, he pointed to the unused
side and gruffly announced, "I'm not sleeping in your room. That bed's
too damn short." He softened his words by the gentleness of his touch as
he crawled between the sheets and pulled Jesse down beside him. "Now go to
sleep, Jesse," he whispered, and gathered her stiff little body against
him.

He felt a slight
hesitance from her before fear overrode propriety. She backed into the curve
of his body, relaxing with a shaky sigh as she felt the cool firmness of his
long, muscular arms pull her against him.

"Thank you,
King," she whispered, and drifted off to sleep.

Don't thank me
yet,
he
thought with a silent groan, as the soft curves of her hips settled against his
lower stomach.
I've got to get through this night a sane man.

Turner's old
rooster crowed twice before Jesse forced herself to open her eyes. It had been
so long since she'd been awakened by anything other than alarm clocks that it
took her a moment to re-orient herself. Last night came crashing rudely back.
All the fear and terror of the night had ended simultaneously with being
wrapped securely in King's tender grasp. She allowed herself the luxury of
watching the first early rays of the sun catch in the gold-tipped hair on
King's arms and reveled in the quiet strength emanating from him, even as he
slept.

The weight of his
arm across the flat of her stomach was only a little heavy and Jesse knew she
would have gladly welcomed all of him in a way King would never imagine. She
turned her head slightly and tried not to let the catch in her breath alert him
as she watched him sleep. He was so beautiful. She smiled to herself. Men
weren't supposed to be beautiful, but . . . tell that to her heart. She
couldn't quit watching his mouth as he slept peacefully, unaware of her. It was
slightly parted, and the thought of tasting the firm, full-cut lips was
intoxicating. Her gaze wandered upwards toward the thick, dark lashes that lay
fanned over his upper cheekbones and knew that they covered dark eyes that
rarely missed anything. Hair lay in mussed abandon on his wide, sun-tanned
forehead. She resisted the urge to gently comb it away from his face. Instead,
she allowed herself to see King as few saw him: quiet and vulnerable.

But this was
getting her nowhere and making her more than a bit miserable. Jesse sighed
softly and stretched, trying to get enough incentive to move. Yet she didn't
want to move, ever. This was exactly where she'd yearned to be for as long as
she cared to remember. The only thing wrong with the picture was that she was
here for all the wrong reasons. King was doing this out of love all right, just
not the kind of love Jesse wanted from him.

She felt the
strong, solid length of him, and his even, steady breathing. Carefully, so as
not to alert him, she began to scoot from under his grasp. Even asleep, King
sensed her movement and pulled her back against him. Jesse felt his hand splay
over her stomach, then slide upward until he seemed to find a more comfortable
spot. She held her breath as his hand wandered, then let her breath out slowly
as his hand come to rest just under the soft, generous curves of her breasts.
His sigh of satisfaction made quick tears come and go in Jesse's eyes and she
blinked furiously, anxious that he not awaken to see her in this state.

She'd
successfully hidden her true feelings for King for years, never allowing
herself to dream that something such as this would ever come to pass. But now
to be thrust in such close quarters for the wrong reasons was the epitome of
irony.