The Listening Sky (34 page)

“You’d let Ramon kill you?”

“Of course not. I’ll prove to him that you’re a liar.”

“Prove that you didn’t make me pregnant? How are you going to do that?”

“We’ve never been together like that and you know it.”

“Not because you didn’t want to.”

“I’ve not had a thought about you like that since you were sixteen.”

“It’s your baby,” she said confidently. “Would you deny your own son… or daughter?”

“Why are you doin’ this, Patrice?” Colin paced back and forth across the room.

“I want a father for my child.”

“Your husband is the father of your child.”

“Oh, pooh! Ramon will know it isn’t his.”

“You don’t sleep with him?”

“You’re hoping I don’t!”

“I don’t give a damn if you sleep with the whole Mexican army.”

“Ramon would care. He’s very possessive of his belongings.”

“It’s his right to expect loyalty from his wife.”

“Loyalty? Ramon doesn’t know the meaning of the word. You know as well as I that Ramon dips his wick in every little twat
he lays eyes on. If he were
half
a man,”—her voice dripped sarcasm—”he’d have fathered his own Mexican army by now.”

Colin stopped his pacing and stared at her. How could he, even when he was young and foolish, have thought he could care for
this woman?

“You planned this.”

“I didn’t plan to get pregnant, but now that I am, I see that it was a good thing.”

“I’m not going to kill him for you, Patrice. Get whoever you’ve been sleeping with to do your dirty work.”

“Darling, I’ve been sleeping with
you.
Ramon knows I’ve always been fond of you. Now, sit down so that we can discuss our future.”

Colin could only look at her and shake his head.

“This is what you told Sunday.”

“I had no choice. And it was kinder than letting her go on thinking she had a chance with you.”

Colin jerked open the door. For the first time in his life he wanted to strike a woman, and it was best for to get out while
he still had control.

“Think about it, Colin. Once you get over the shock of being a papa, you’ll see how right it is.”

He went out and slammed the door so hard that the side of the building shook. Out on the street he was jostled by two men
headed toward the saloon.

“Colin, Herb’s lookin’ for ya.”

“Yeah? Thanks.”

Colin walked rapidly away, turned into the darkness between two buildings, stopped and leaned against the side of one of them.
Breathing deeply, he tried to think rationally, but his mind was clouded with rage. Years ago T.C. had told him Patrice was
trouble. Colin suspected that before she married Ramon, she had wanted T.C. and he had not been interested.

He desperately wanted to talk to Sunday. He went down the street to the boarding house. Her room was at the side. It was dark.
He turned away and crossed the street. A light shone from the kitchen window and from T.C.’s bedroom. Colin let himself in
and went to the office where he had left his bedroll, rolled it out and lay down.

He had a lot of thinking to do.

“Did I hear Colin come in?”

Jane stood at the foot of the bed, happy but uncomfortable, not knowing how to act on this night of all nights when she would
sleep in the arms of her husband.

“He’ll not come in.”

“He missed supper.”

“He’s got a lot on his mind.” T.C. smiled down at her. “Are you nervous about being here with me, sweetheart?”

“A… little.”

“I’m a little bit scared of you,” he confessed. He took her hand and placed her palm over his heart. “Feel this. My heart
is about to run away with me.”

“I can’t imagine your being scared of anything”

“That’s where you’re wrong, honey. I’ve been scared to death I was going to lose you. I took the first chance I had to bind
you to me.”

“I’m glad you did.” She smiled up at him.

His eyes searched hers for a long moment before he bent his head and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips.

“I’ll go out for a little while.”

Jane watched him go out the door and wanted to run after him and beg him not to leave. This thing between them was too new,
too fragile, for her to really believe that it was true. What had she done to deserve the love of a man like Timothy Charles
Kilkenny? He was too honest, too decent, to say words he didn’t mean. And there was no reason for him to do so.

It was almost beyond belief that this was her wedding night; that in a few minutes she would be in bed with her husband. She
knew about what took place in the marriage bed, but she didn’t know how to do it. Lord,
help her not to be a disappointment to him.

Wondering if she had done everything she should have done, Jane lay in bed waiting for her husband. She had washed in the
basin, used the chamber pot she found under the bed, and put on the nightdress she had worn only one time since it was washed.
Trying not to look at her scratched face in the mirror when she stood before the bureau, she took the pins from her hair and
turned away to brush it.

Jane listened for T.C.’s footsteps in the hallway. It still seemed to her that what had happened, was happening, was to someone
else. She had never known a closeness with anyone, never shared her thoughts or her dreams with anyone but a dying man. She
had talked endlessly to Doc late at night when it had seemed to her they were the only two people in the world. Though she
had not been sure he was even listening, she had stopped short of revealing her terrible secret.

T.C. opened the door and came into the room. His eyes held hers as he came toward the bed, sat down beside her and studied
her white face, her mane of thick dark-red hair gathered at the back of her neck and tied with a ribbon, her trembling mouth.
He held out his hand. She placed her palm against his. He lifted it to his lips and kissed it gently and sweetly and with
deep dedication.

It had been so long since anyone had loved her, almost a lifetime. She wondered if he could possibly know how he filled that
vacant place in her heart. They sat quietly for a while just holding hands. The wonder of the love they had found kept them
in an awed silence. Jane loved this man with the silver eyes. She loved the sound of his voice, the uncompromising line of
his jaw, the curve of his mouth. Most of all she loved the strength of his character.

Jane made a silent vow to do everything in her power to be a good wife, a helpmate. But if fate tore them apart, if after
all he found he couldn’t bear the pressure of being married to the bastard daughter of one of the most hated men in the Colorado
Territory, she would have a thousand sweet memories to call forth and cherish.

“Mrs. Kilkenny. Do you like the sound of that?”

“I like the sound of Mrs. T.C. Kilkenny.”

“You’re awful pretty, Mrs. Kilkenny.” He bent over her. A soft, loving light shone from his silver eyes. Then his mouth was
warm and sweet against hers.

“It’s not true, but I like to hear it.” Her arms slid up to encircle his neck. “You’re pretty, too.”

“It’s not true, but I like to hear it.” He laughed softly after repeating her words; then he whispered against her lips, “I
love you.” His words and the sound of his deep voice caused her heart to stumble, then to jump with joy. His eyes caressed
her flushed face and moved to her hair, and with gentle fingers he brushed the strands at her temples. “I’ll never, never
force you… or hurt you.”

Jane nodded and sighed deeply. She blocked out everything but this moment… this night. She heard his ragged breathing as if
from far away.

“Can I call you Timmie when we’re… together like this?”

“If you want to.”

“Come to bed, Timmie,” she whispered.
Oh, Lord! Did he think her brazen?

He lifted his head and looked into her eyes, studying her with an ineffably tender expression.

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered humbly, but his eyes shone with amusement, and she knew her invitation had pleased him.

Jane watched as he removed his shirt and hung it on a peg. His shoulders were broad and heavily muscled. She remembered Bill’s
telling her that T.C. was the one to beat in an exhibition of bare-knuckle fighting. His chest had a soft sprinkling of dark
hair that tapered to his waist.

Could this magnificent man really be her husband?

His eyes caught hers. The tightness in her stomach intensified. He bent to blow out the lamp and the room went dark. She could
still see him in her mind’s eye: dark hair falling over his forehead, eyebrows that were as thick and straight as if put there
by the stroke of a paintbrush, eyes that seemed to look into her very soul.

It seemed to her hours, but could only have been a minute or two until she felt the blanket being lifted and his weight on
the bed.

T.C. stretched out beside her, raised his arm over her head and rolled her to him so that she lay alongside him, her cheek
on his shoulder. Jane’s body tensed as she tried to stop trembling. Her hand slid automatically over the warm hard flesh of
his chest

“You’re trembling, honey.” His voice was soft, urgent. He moved his hand caressingly up and down her back. “Don’t be scared
of me.”

“I’m not. You… feel different without—”

“—My clothes on? I am different, sweetheart. I’m hard and rough, you’re soft and sweet.” He took her hand and placed it palm
down on his chest and moved it up and down. “Do you like being here in my arms?”

“It’s heavenly—”

“For me too.”

He found her lips. Her mouth was as eager as his. While they kissed, his hand stroked her from her hip up her side to her
breast and moved back and forth. Small and firm, yet incredibly soft, it filled his hand. No one had ever touched her there.
Even through the cloth of her nightdress his fingers sent a message to the core of her femininity.

“Someday I’m going to love you with nothing between us at all.” His voice was a ragged whisper.

“You can.” Her whisper was a mere breath in the night.

Jane’s fingers worked at the buttons on her nightdress. When it was open, she pressed her naked breast into his palm. His
hand shaped itself over her tender offering.

“Sweetheart, I want to… touch you everywhere. I’m so hungry for you—”

His rough, calloused fingers found her nipple and stroked it to a hard peak. He ground his teeth and tightened his buttocks.
His desire for her was a deep pain gnawing his vitals, but he was determined not to show any aggression.

“That feels good—” Her voice was urgent. She reached for his lips and kissed him with a hunger that surprised him. Her mouth
was warm and sweet. She parted her lips, yielded and accepted the wanderings of his.

Her mound was pressed to his thigh. He could feel the heat through her nightdress. His hand, traveling from her back to the
hem, slipped carefully under to flatten against her buttocks and hold her tighter to him.

The freedom to touch him made her almost giddy. Her palm slid down through the soft hair on his chest to his flat, quivering
stomach. Her middle finger discovered his navel and lingered to feel it.

haven between her thighs and slipped into the warm wetness.

Something powerful throbbed in the area below her stomach. She moved restlessly, held him tighter, then began to squirm and
arch toward his hand, to whimper as his fingers continued to work their magic.

“Do you feel what I feel? Tell me.”

“Yes! Oh, yes!”

“The sweet pain?”

“Yes! Please—” Her arms clutched him, her hips moved in invitation. Blood swam in her head, pounded in her veins; and through
it all, she heard his murmured endearments.

There was no room for fear as her desire for him consumed her. He lifted himself above her and, using all his strength of
will to hold back, he slipped into her. She was warm, moist. He was so filled with love and desire that he forgot about the
barrier that was sure to be there and rammed through it at the first thrust.

Jane jerked and gasped. He pulled out immediately.

“Sweetheart!”

“Don’t go!” She pressed on his buttocks.

“Sure?”

“Please!”

She called his name as he entered her again, and he called hers. With muttered words of love, he moved within her in a careful
rhythm that increased in speed and intensity as her body adjusted to his invasion. She was swept along with him in the turbulence
of their desire. It was like flying, drowning, sinking, floating.

She heard the thunderous beating of his heart against her naked breast and heard his
hoarse,
murmured cries in her ear. A stunning, beautiful bloom of glorious rapture made her respond with a fierce ardor matching his.
Through the crescendo of emotions, a sudden joy erupted within her and burst over her like a great splashing wave.

The climax of their joining left them gasping. Hands that had guided her hips now moved to either side of her and relieved
her limp body of part of his crushing weight. He eased himself from between her thighs and shifted to lie beside her. His
face to hers, he smoothed her rumpled hair and moved his mouth tenderly ever her throbbing lips. She gave quick answer, returned
his kisses, then pressed her cheek on the smooth hardness of his shoulder.

Jane moved her hand down to his firm buttock and kept it there in a silent claim of possession. A tear pooled in her eye as
she curled up in his arms, feeling the peace of being loved and cherished.

“Did I hurt you, honey?”

“It was beautiful, wonderful—”

“My Indian. ancestors say it’s a gift from the gods, and each time we give each other a little part of ourselves.”

“I wanted to give you all of myself. I could feel you all through me. I keep thinking… is this real?”

“It’s real, sweetheart. Did you ever think you’d be like this with a conniving, sneaky, stony-hearted horse’s ass?”

“Mercy me! Did I call you all… that?”

“You sure did. Do you want to take it back?”

“I’ll take back the conniving, sneaky, stony-hearted part.” She laughed happily, nibbling at his chin. He hugged her, marveling
at his luck in finding her and the miracle that she loved him.