Savage Thunder (18 page)

C
olt felt wonderful. He hurt like hell, but inside he was in control again, his emotions spent, his anger leashed, manageable. He could probably even confront the duchess now and get it over with, or so he thought until he saw her standing there watching him.

Back came the irritation, first because she had managed to approach him without his hearing her. He could blame that on the slight ringing in his ears from one of Grahame’s punches. He shook his head, but the ringing persisted. He glanced around then to see if anyone else whom he didn’t know about had followed him, but she was the only one there. And that was why his irritation increased. She just never learned, this woman. He’d avoided her, he’d warned her off. How much clearer could he get? But it was no more than he could expect with her stubborn streak, so it shouldn’t irritate him. It still did.

“What’re you looking at?”

Jocelyn let out a sigh, hearing Colt’s surly tone. To think she had actually been concerned when he had stumbled out of camp. Sir Parker had been rendered unconscious, and Vanessa, who was seeing to him, had assured her he would be all right. But Colt still had been on his feet at the end of the fight and had
left before anyone could attend to his cuts and abrasions.

He had doused his head in the water hole they had camped next to, and had just finished drying his face with his bandanna when he’d noticed her. Whoever had last toted water from the hole that evening had left a torch behind, stuck in the ground. From that light, she could see the swelling of his left cheek, the cut over his eye still trickling blood down his temple. His clothes were filthy, his pants ripped at the knees. His other injuries were likely hidden, since Sir Parker had concentrated most of his blows to the body. There would be many, however, for the fight had lasted a good fifteen minutes.

“You look terrible. Does it hurt?”

“Does a dog piss?”

Her back stiffened. “I’d appreciate a civil answer, thank you.”

“Then go talk to someone else. Here you take your chances.”

“I could have sworn you would have had your nasty temper worked off after your exercise this evening.”

“Me too,” he sneered. “Just goes to show how wrong a dumb Indian can be.”

“Don’t do that,” Jocelyn said angrily.

“What?”

“Belittle yourself like that. You may not be educated in the normal way, Colt Thunder, but you aren’t stupid, and we both know it.”

“That’s debatable, honey. I’m here, aren’t I?”

She drew in her breath sharply. “Meaning what? That you shouldn’t be?”

“Damned right!”

“Then leave! No one’s stopping you.”

“Aren’t you?” In two long strides he reached her and gripped her arms to shake her. “Aren’t you?” he repeated in a furious hiss.

“If I am…I’m glad,” she said, already regretting that she had offered him an out in the heat of the moment, but relieved that he hadn’t jumped on it. “You are needed, after all.”

Colt turned away from her, defeated by a single word. Every time she said it, it did crazy things to him inside. Mostly it inflamed his lust, even though he knew full well her use of the word wasn’t meant to be provocative. Christ, how he wished it were.

“It takes integrity and honor to keep faith with something you find so disagreeable,” she said quietly behind him.

“What is this?” he demanded sharply, glancing over his shoulder with a black scowl. “Soothe the savage beast with a bone of flattery?”

Jocelyn gritted her teeth. “No,” she said, wanting to shout it, but afraid now that if she let her temper loose, it would be the excuse he needed to quit. “I’m trying to tell you I’m sorry you don’t like the job…but not sorry enough to release you from it.”

He turned around slowly. “To hell with the job,” he said almost conversationally. “That’s not the problem and you know it. You’re the problem, you and that unexpected little bonus you bestowed on me without warning.”

Jocelyn tried to look away at that point, sensing
what was coming. Colt brought her gaze back to his with a hard grip on her chin.

“Don’t mistake me, Duchess. I’m honored.” The sudden sarcasm in his tone said otherwise. “But why don’t you clear up the mystery, anyway? Why me?”

She knew exactly what he was asking, but denied it. “I don’t know what you mean.”

That answer got her another hard shake and a shouted “Why me?”

“I—I wanted you. It’s that simple.”

“Wrong. A virgin can want every man who comes sniffing, but she won’t do anything about it without a ring on her finger, or love clouding her judgment. Now, since neither of those reasons applies to you, let’s hear the real one.”

It unnerved her that he was so sure those reasons didn’t apply to her. How could he know that, or that her attraction to him wasn’t the only thing that had motivated her?

“Not that I can see why it matters, but I wasn’t just any virgin, I was a widowed virgin. Therefore, I didn’t have to wait for love or a ring, as you so put it, if I desired a man. Who is there to tell me that I can’t do as I please or have what I want?”

He stared at her for a long moment, running that through his mind, before he finally shook his head. “That was a widow’s philosophy, sure enough, but just as you weren’t just any virgin, you weren’t just any widow. The whys of your special circumstances don’t interest me. You were still a virgin, and virgins don’t give it away without a damn good reason. I haven’t heard yours yet.”

“I
have
answered you!” she cried. “I don’t know what more you expect—”

“The truth!”

“Why won’t you believe me?”

“Because I see it in your eyes, woman.”

She paled. “What?”

“That you’re hiding something. And now it’s in your face. I pieced it together that night, that you had to have some ulterior motive for accepting me in your bed.”

“But I did want you,” she insisted. “It had to be you, don’t you see?”

“No, I don’t see. But I will, if I have to shake it out of you.”

Jocelyn stiffened, anger rescuing her from the turmoil his suspicions caused. “You’ve done quite enough of that, thank you. Now you will release me.”

“I don’t think so,” he said softly and drew her closer instead.

Intimidation had gotten him nowhere. And he recognized that stubborn streak of hers when he saw it. He could throttle her and she wouldn’t tell him another thing. But he had to know—one way or the other.

“What the devil are you doing?” she demanded when she felt his lips on her neck.

“All that talk of wanting and you have to ask?”

“But—”

“But what, Duchess?” His lips moved toward her ear while his arms tightened around her until there was no space left between their bodies. “That had to be a powerful need you had to make you give up your
virginity to satisfy it. Something that powerful doesn’t just go away…or does it?”

“No…it doesn’t,” she heard herself saying, to her surprise and his.

But it was true, obviously, since she had felt it the moment he put his arms around her, and it was growing stronger by the moment. He smelled of earth and sweat and man, and she wanted him again, just like before, regardless that she had no reason to indulge the desire this time other than for the sheer pleasure she now knew it would bring her.

His lips had left her skin when she answered him, and his wet hair was dripping on her shoulder and neck, making her shiver. Or was it his breath, which she could still feel warming the sensitive area around her ear?

“Why’d you get rid of it?”

She pressed closer at the sound of his voice. “What? Oh, please, no more questions,” she groaned. “Kiss me.”

He did, but teasingly, nibbling at her lips, drawing back when she strained to meld their mouths together. He kept it up until she was ready to do anything to bring his mouth crushing down on hers.

“Colt!”

“Why’d you get rid of it?”

Despite the maelstrom of her emotions, it seemed easier to answer. “It was a hindrance.”

“Why?” his voice persisted, a husky whisper, while his hands moved all over her.

“It prevented me from…from remarrying if I found someone…who would suit.”

“Why?”

“The duke’s affliction mustn’t be known.”

“But it didn’t matter if I learned of it?”

“You didn’t know him…were never likely to meet anyone who did.”

She was suddenly shoved back, his warmth gone, leaving her so frustrated she could have screamed—until she heard him swear. “Son of a bitch! I had to be right, didn’t I? Just this once I couldn’t be wrong?”

“About what?” she asked, reaching for him, but he knocked her hand aside.

“You used me!”

Jocelyn blinked, jolted out of her confusion, enough to realize what he’d done to her. He’d used her passion against her—just as she had done to him that night. She noted the irony, even supposed she deserved it. But there was a glaring difference in their tactics that caused the outrage now taking over her languor, blinding her to his own. She hadn’t withdrawn the moment she got what she wanted, as he just did. She hadn’t left him in need.

“So this is what your foul temper has been about these past days?” she demanded furiously. “You feel insulted because I wanted you?”

“Used, woman,” he corrected coldly. “Any man would have served for what you
wanted
.”

“And you didn’t use me? I wasn’t there that night, beneath you, filled with your flesh?”

He wanted to hit her for that, for making him burn to get inside her again with the vivid image her words created in his mind, even more than he already burned from holding her. And she wasn’t finished.

“Is that what you’re trying to tell me, Thunder? That you found no pleasure in my bed?”

“Shut up, damn you!”

“Then what exactly do you resent? That I chose you to be my first lover? Or that I took advantage of your moment of weakness?” And then she went for blood. “That’s what’s really bothering you, isn’t it? I know you didn’t want me. You made that abundantly clear every time I got near you. But I managed to seduce you into losing control anyway, and you can’t stand that, can you?”

He drew back his hand, but when she didn’t flinch from it, he clenched his fist and lowered it. “Answer me one question, Duchess. When did you decide to use me, before or after you forced this damn job down my throat?” When she didn’t answer him immediately, he sneered, “Just as I thought. When a man buys a whore, he makes sure he gets his money’s worth. Did you?”

She was furious enough to reply, “Of course. You are, after all, a prime specimen of manhood, quite the most handsome I’ve ever encountered.” There was enough sarcasm in her tone to make him doubt there was any truth in her words. And then she added just for spite, “But it was a trifling sum, if you must know. So you needn’t worry that you cost me dearly. You didn’t. Besides, you have so many other uses, I really did make a splendid bargain, didn’t I?”

His answer was to snarl, “I suspected you were a spoiled bitch!”

“And I knew you were an arrogant bastard. So what does that prove? How blind lust can be?”

It was the last taunt Colt could stand without giving in to his urges, and at the moment his greatest urge was to cut out that razor-sharp tongue of hers. The only other thing he could do was leave, which he did.

She misunderstood, however, and shouted after him, “Don’t mistake me, Thunder! I have no intention of releasing you from my service until you’ve finished the job you agreed to. Do you hear me? Don’t you dare quit on me!”

He stopped, but only after putting enough distance between them. With the brightly lit camp behind him, she could only see his silhouette, which was just as well, since his expression was now murderous.

“I don’t quit, but I give you fair warning, woman. For the last time, stay the hell away from me.”

“With pleasure!” she retorted, but his long strides had already increased the distance between them, so she wasn’t sure he’d heard her.

She watched until he disappeared behind one of the wagons, then turned about to stare blindly at the far-off mountains. For her ears only she mumbled, “Hateful beast,” and then promptly burst into tears.

J
ocelyn set her plate aside and then stretched before leaning back against the pillows scattered under the silken lean-to, which was set up for her luncheon each day. It was one of the luxuries she wouldn’t need much longer. With the days as cool as they now were in late November, a shaded area in which to eat the noon meal wasn’t necessary anymore, was only still being erected at Vanessa’s insistence, since she was of the old school that believed a lady’s skin should never be touched by the sun, even if it was a cold sun. She clucked her tongue disapprovingly over the slight golden tan Jocelyn had acquired by riding every day now that the torrid southern heat was bowing to winter.

Two weeks had passed since leaving Silver City. They’d dipped south briefly to get around the southern mountains, then ridden almost straight east, until they crossed the Rio Grande River and turned to follow it north. It was much easier traveling after that because they encountered the ancient El Camino Real, or Royal Highway, that stretched from Santa Fe, which they were heading toward, clear down to Mexico City. In fact, they could have used this old road, which had first served as a trade route more than three hundred
years ago, if they hadn’t originally planned on going to California.

According to Billy, the El Camino Real met up with the Santa Fe Trail, another old trade route. It had been established only some sixty years ago and would lead them out of the mountains, east again, and straight onto the Great Plains, which were the flat grasslands that reached clear into Canada. They’d also found out from Billy just how far away this Wyoming was. If they had known to begin with that it would take nearly two months to reach…but that was a moot point now, considering how far they had already come.

The road, however, made for a less bumpy ride, and the scenery was lovely, with the San Andres Mountains on the right, the river on the left with more mountain ranges beyond it, trees now in abundance in magnificent fall colors, and even, for several days, the wide-open Jornada del Muerto valley to exercise the horses in.

The desertlike quality of the land had not disappeared entirely, however. There was still cactus to be seen, white and purple sage and creosote bushes, long stretches of parched ground or even white sands, and very little grass other than grama, but they were accustomed to such after traveling so long in these southern regions.

Now, as they neared the Rocky Mountains and Santa Fe, which was only three days away, there were even more ranges on every side, and more lovely valleys to explore. But Jocelyn didn’t feel like exploring
today. Her sigh must have suggested the same to Vanessa.

“It’s not the heat, and the lunch was light enough,” the countess remarked beside her. “Didn’t you sleep well last night?”

“As well as usual,” Jocelyn replied, which wasn’t admitting much, since Vanessa was unaware of the many bad nights she’d been having recently.

She knew the cause, though that did nothing to alleviate the problem. She was simply suffering a long-drawn-out case of severe embarrassment over her conduct during the last encounter with Colt.

That blasted fight. She couldn’t get it out of her mind, even two weeks later.

The very next day she had begun her monthly time, which she had eagerly used to excuse her uncalled-for tears that night, as well as her horrid behavior. But she still burned with shame every time she recalled how she had allowed Colt to reduce her to the role of a screaming shrew, complete with spite, derision, and malice. She hadn’t known she had it in her. Well, how could she have, when she had never in her life acted like that before? But it would never happen again, by God. That she had promised herself, a promise she would keep no matter what that heartless man did to provoke her—if he ever talked to her again.

She had seen him no more than twice in all this time, and then only from a distance when she was exercising Sir George. He had stopped coming into camp at all, not even to sleep. Where he bedded down at night was anyone’s guess, though she suspected it
wasn’t that far away, since Billy rode out before dawn to meet him each morning to confer on the arrangements for the day, and he was never gone long.

She had missed Vanessa’s next question. “What?”

“I asked if you were too tired for your ride today. I believe Sir George has already been saddled.”

Jocelyn didn’t budge from the pillow, nor did she open her eyes to answer. “Not too tired, Vana, but I don’t really feel like it. One of the grooms can take him out.”

“And what about Miles? You know how much he enjoys your rides together.”

With a prickle of irritation, Jocelyn wondered when her friend was going to stop matchmaking. It simply wasn’t working.

A very short while ago Jocelyn’s interest would have been quite snared by such a man. In personality and looks he outshone Charles Abington, and she had seriously considered marrying Charles. But now there was another man she couldn’t help comparing Miles Dryden with, and in her doing so, Miles wasn’t quite as fascinating. He became too pale, too charming, too ingratiating. Even his misfortune could be picked apart to reveal a touch of cowardice. Colt wouldn’t have run from failure to start over somewhere else. He wouldn’t have stranded himself in a town, either, because of a close touch with death. And she couldn’t imagine Colt standing by and doing nothing while someone robbed him. Indeed, no.

Devil take it, she had to stop thinking of that man, but she still didn’t feel like riding, even for the diversion. “One day isn’t going to crush him, Vana.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure. I believe he is quite smitten. Maura thinks so, and who would know better than his sister, whom he is most likely to confide in.”

Jocelyn nearly snorted. The pair were as thick as thieves. If the man was smitten with anyone, it was with his sultry sister. She leaned up to see them walking together near the clifflike banks of the river, deep in conversation.

Glancing at the countess, she said, “I suppose she told you that?”

“Indeed.”

“Well, I wouldn’t believe everything that girl tells you. I’ve already caught her in one lie.”

“What?”

“The other day she told me that her father had owned some of the finest racers in the eastern states, and that she so regretted their loss when everything had to be sold, even though she doesn’t care to ride herself.”

“So?”

“So the first time I allowed Miles to try Sir George, he remarked that he’d always wanted to own a Thoroughbred, but that his family had only kept carriage horses, which were all that was necessary in the city.”

Vanessa found that merely amusing, if her chuckle was any indication. “It’s very common to want to impress someone of your stature, my dear. You should know that by now. The girl is merely a bit prideful and envious. That’s nothing to be concerned over.”

“I wasn’t concerned. I just wouldn’t accept everything she says as the literal truth.”

“Very well. But in this instance, concerning Miles’
affections, I’m inclined to agree with her. I’ve seen the way he dotes on you myself, after all. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if you don’t get a proposal long before we reach the railroad that will take them back East.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised either.”

Vanessa frowned. “So, you
do
know he’s smitten. Whyever have we been arguing about it, then?”

Jocelyn grinned. “I wouldn’t call this discussion an argument, Vana. And I didn’t agree he’s smitten.”

“But you said—”

“That I wouldn’t be surprised if he proposes. How many proposals have I had in the past three years?”

Vanessa sighed. “Too many to count. So you think he’s just another fortune hunter?”

“I’m afraid I do.”

“You could be wrong, you know. Look at the attention he lavishes on you. And he’s so deucedly handsome—and civilized, I might add.”

That stung, so Jocelyn retorted, “He isn’t likely to ignore me with my fortune on his mind.”

“But what makes you so sure, my dear?”

“His eyes.”

“His eyes?”

“Yes, the way he looks at me. There’s nothing there, Vana, not even the tiniest spark of interest. Oh, he says all the right words, but his eyes belie every one of them. He’s simply not attracted to me. But then few men are.”

“More fools they,” the countess said in her behalf. “It doesn’t matter, dear. We weren’t considering him
for a husband, merely as an entertaining diversion, so don’t let it bother you.”

Jocelyn had to force down a smile. “I won’t.”

But Vanessa was having a hard time letting the idea go. “You’re positive?” she asked after a moment.

This time Jocelyn did smile. “Vana!” And laugh. “He looks at
you
with much more warmth than he does me.” At the countess’s blush, she added, “Ah, you have noticed that, at least?”

“Well, I assumed you were receiving even
more
admiring looks,” Vanessa said defensively.

“Now you know better. But don’t fret about it. He has been entertaining, and quite amusing, which was partly what you hoped for, wasn’t it?”

Again Vanessa blushed. “I meant well, my dear.”

Jocelyn leaned over to hug her. “I know, and I love you for it. And you needn’t worry about our mean-tempered guide anymore. If you haven’t noticed, he’s been avoiding me like the plague. It’s quite over.”

“Is it really?”

She didn’t want to explain about the argument, not at this late date, so she said simply, “Yes.” But knowing Vanessa wouldn’t leave it at that, would start to pick it apart for her own assurance, she cowardly added, “I think I’ll have that ride after all.”