The Men of Pride County: The Rebel (24 page)

“So that you can continue your quest for retribution, or so that you can live long enough to go home to practice law?”

“Both.”

“And if this traitor you seek is already dead? What will you have to drive you from day to day, Major Banning, if not thoughts of revenge?”

He didn’t answer for a long moment, and when he did, she wished he hadn’t.

“And what if this man I seek tried to kill your father to keep him from telling me his identity? You might try to discover that truth for me. It seems to be in the best interests of both of us now.”

Juliet paled. She hadn’t thought of that, but it made complete sense, an awful amount of sense. What better reason to kill her father than to silence him forever?

“I’ll take care of my father,” she said at last. “You’ll have your hands full with the Apache.” She glanced down regretfully at the drooping plants. “I’ve done all I can do here. If you’ll excuse me, Major.”

She started to turn away, but he still retained her hand, halting the motion. In a voice low and persuasive, he said, “I want to see you again before I leave.”

“Of course you will,” she replied nervously. “At noontime and dinner.”

“Alone.”

That clarification left her breathless.

“I—I don’t know if I can.” She didn’t know if she should.

He let go of her hand and said with a maddening lack of emotion, “Let me know what you decide.”

She spent all day trying to come up with a solution.

It was no great mystery why he wanted to see her alone. That she wasn’t opposed to the notion of sending him off satisfied should have alarmed her. She didn’t have loose morals. But she was practical. Did she want to pass up on the opportunity to be with him for what might be the last time? Did it matter if he spoke words of love and commitment or if he spoke of nothing at all? There was no question of what her heart wanted. It was persuading her mind to go along that gave her pause. He’d be leaving the fort with more than just a token of her esteem. He’d be riding out with her heart pinned next to the chevrons on his sleeve. And there was the chance of him leaving her with more than just pleasant memories.

She was momentarily distracted from her choice by the arrival of a freight wagon. The burly drivers claimed to have seen no trace of hostiles and were anxious to be on their way. One of the parcels they delivered was Juliet’s mail-order hat. Grateful to have something to lift her spirits, she carried it to the shade of her porch and tore open the paper.

The minute she lifted it from the box, her mood plummeted. She’d ordered a modest bonnet to provide practical shade and a few feminine frills. What she’d received for her twenty dollars and an additional twenty for
shipping was a huge, gaudy affair made up of satin bows and bobbing plumes, all in an eye-blinkingly brilliant shade of purple.

Lavender. She stared at the hat, her eyes misting over in dismay. Certainly she’d told the milliner that she wanted a pale lavender, a subdued hue to match one of her nicer calicos. But this grand monstrosity was too outlandish for anything less than the opera and certainly not appropriate for the mess hall.

“Oh, my,” gasped Maisy Bartholomew as she peered over Juliet’s shoulder. “Is that someone’s idea of a sad joke?” Her own amusement was clear in her sarcastic tone.

Having to admit her disappointment for Maisy’s entertainment suddenly stuck in Juliet’s craw. She set her jaw and forced a delighted smile and she plopped the creation atop her blond head. “Gracious, no. Poor dear, you must have been sadly out of touch with fashion out there in the wilds of the Carolinas. Why, this is all the rage in Paris. Jane ordered it for me from Washington. All the senators’ wives were wearing them.”

Maisy squinted. “Really?”

“Oh, yes.”

Hating to admit that she was behind on the current French fashions, Maisy viewed the atrocity more favorably. “It does have a certain
joie de vivre
.” Then her smile took a crafty turn. “Such a shame that color looks so poorly on you.”

Juliet gasped as if that news distressed her.
“Oh, dear. Do you think so?” She hurried inside to peer into the mirror to see that the hat sat upon her head like a Spanish galleon under full sail—purple sails. She pretended to be distraught. “Oh, Maisy, I fear you’re right. This shade does nothing for my hair. What am I going to do? I paid an absolute fortune for it, and my father will be so upset to think I threw my money away.”

Maisy grew positively sly. “Perhaps I can help. I know it’s not nearly what it must have cost you, but I would give you thirty dollars, just to save you the embarrassment.”

Juliet’s brows rose. “I couldn’t let you do that. That’s too much to spend just to be kind.”

“Forty.”

“Oh, I really can’t—”

“Fifty. I insist. Think nothing of it. I’ve got more hats than I need, but I suppose I could use one more. Donald won’t mind.”

Juliet gave her a blameless look framed in purple. “Well, if you’re certain.”

Maisy practically snatched the feathers from her head, then preened before the mirror, congratulating herself on the fashion coup. Juliet watched her, thinking something about pride going before a fall.

But when the ladies promenaded before the dinner hour and Maisy appeared in bold purple plumage, the amazing sight brought everyone to a gawking standstill.

Jane, the soul of discretion, took Maisy aside
to whisper sympathetically, “Thank heavens I caught you before anyone saw you.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Oh, dear, that hat, I simply could not forgive myself if I let you wear that to the shame of your husband.”

Maisy blinked at her in owlish disbelief. “But it’s all the style.”

“
Last
year’s style. Heavens, no one in the East would be caught dead—I mean, it’s just too, too much. Perhaps if you removed the feathers and most of the bows and dyed it a more appealing shade. Lavender, perhaps. Yes, that would be lovely. Don’t despair. It’s not a total loss.”

Maisy turned a malevolent glare upon Juliet to see if she was laughing at her expense. But Juliet appeared honestly ashamed enough to murmur, “As you’ve told me, Maisy, and often, I have no sense of sophistication. I should never have thought to advise you on fashion. I’d be happy to return the money—”

“There’s no need for that,” Maisy snapped, hanging onto her pride with a fierce smile. “Excuse me while I go change.”

As soon as the self-inflated female was gone, Jane looked to her friend with new admiration. “Juliet, tell me you were somehow behind that awful hat.”

Juliet felt no real joy in admitting it. True, the woman had practically begged to be humiliated, but dishing it out sat heavily upon her conscience.

Then Jane changed the subject abruptly. “Albert is riding out with Major Banning in the morning.”

Juliet was immediately all concern. “Oh, Jane, I didn’t know.”

The frivolous Jane Howell took a deep, bracing breath to display the fortitude of a soldier’s bride. “I’ll send him off with a smile and cry for him every night until he comes home. And you?”

“Me? My father isn’t going.”

“I wasn’t referring to your father.”

Seeing no reason to lie to her best friend, Juliet admitted, “I’ll most likely shed my share of tears, too.”

“We’ll have each other for company tomorrow, but tonight I plan to enjoy my husband while I still have him. What are your plans, Juliet?”

The gentle prodding caused her to mutter, “I haven’t decided.”

As Noble Banning strode the length of the parade ground in full dress, Juliet’s gaze followed in helpless longing. Jane put an arm about her shoulder.

“You’d better decide fast, darling.”

Noble had washed up and was in the process of bundling extra clothing, a blanket and a rubber sheet to ward off the chill from damp ground, his rations, 150 rounds, half a pup tent, extra shoes for his horse, fifteen pounds of grain, a short-barreled carbine, and his rifle
into a pack that he’d strap behind his saddle, where his armaments would be within easy reach. His mind should have been on the details of moving fifty men across the desert floor in search of a dangerously elusive enemy.

But he couldn’t steer it away from the equally elusive lover he couldn’t manage to lure across the parade ground for one final good-bye.

He wasn’t a fool. He’d gone into battle too many times not to know there were even odds that he wouldn’t come back. He’d gained an entirely new respect for the Apaches’ fighting ability after stumbling behind their horses. It wasn’t a position he wanted to be in again. Nor did he want to come back to Crowley admitting to failure.

It wasn’t the amount of time he’d be living out of a saddle that bothered him. It was the amount of time Miles Dougherty would have to charm Juliet in his absence. There was little he could do to keep her out of Miles’s arms from a hundred miles away.

He threw his pack into a corner and wondered if he was being overly optimistic to think he might actually be able to sleep tonight.

A tap on his back door broke into his broodings. And when he opened it, all was forgotten.

“Juliet! Did you bring me a book after all?”

She stood in heavy shadow, her pale hair
concealed under a colorful Navajo shawl. When she stepped across the threshold, she let it fall away. And when her arms encircled his neck to pull his head down, tomorrow’s worries fell away just as easily.

She kissed him as if there was no tomorrow. She could be right about that, he knew. Her mouth was hot, aggressive, devouring, stating her decision for her. No explanations, no words, no promises were needed. He closed the door and snuffed the single candle between his fingers. It sizzled, just as they sizzled in the sudden darkness.

Juliet kissed him again and again, afraid that if she spoke a single word, all her fears and feelings would come pouring out in an unforgivable torrent. That’s not how she wanted to send him off—with a memory of her tears and clutching panic. Better he have something more pleasant to hold onto, something to encourage him to come home in a hurry—something like the image of her warm and waiting.

There was a moment’s chill as the night air met her newly bared skin, then Noble’s hands were there to stir the heat up again. Having anticipated, having hoped how their meeting would culminate, she wore nothing beneath her gown but a splash of lavender water. Within minutes of laying her down on his bed, he had her moaning his name in restless abandon. Then he was joining her in those hot throes of pleasure, twisting, twining together
on his tousled sheets, giving, taking, not caring about what would come with the dawn—only how they would spend this night together in search of mutual delights.

In the aftermath of their first discovery, Juliet sprawled in sated lethargy, with no ambition to move a muscle except to smile when Noble came up on his elbow beside her.

“You’ve a look that says you’ve been well satisfied.”

She chuckled and drew her fingertip through the black furring on his chest. “And in your vanity, you claim all the credit, do you?”

She arched and sighed as his mouth moved upon her left breast, willing to give credit where it was due, until he lifted himself up to say, “I can’t claim more than my fair share, darlin’. And you’ve done more than half toward exhausting me.”

“I’ve done my very best,” she purred.

“If you’d like to do more to convince me of it, go right ahead.”

Her mood grew serious. “I’d like to convince you to come back safely.”

His gaze probed hers intensely. “That’s my plan. I’ve too much to do to have it otherwise.”

Juliet looked away. Of course, his plans. His vengeance. His law practice. His carefully regimented life that could never include her. Suddenly, it was too difficult to pretend those thoughts didn’t devastate her.

“I have to go.”

Her quiet claim won an instant objection. “Right now?” The idea seemed somehow abhorrent to Noble. He rolled onto her sleek figure, pinning her between his forearms and knees. “What can I do to persuade you to stay?”

“You can’t—”

“Maybe this.” He nuzzled her neck, the hot brush of his breath exciting a shiver.

“Noble—”

“Or this.” He moved against her, letting her feel the power of his renewed interest pushing into her softer flesh.

“I can’t—” But her protest was weakening.

“How about this?”

His mouth claimed hers in a will-sapping exchange that continued to deepen until he felt her fingers press into his shoulders, until her legs shifted, knees lifting to accommodate him. He sank into the tight heat of her body, losing himself almost at once as she breathed his name in welcome and wonder. With a force of concentration that caused him to tremble, he held himself still, savoring the sensations until he could control the pace of their pleasuring, until slow, shuddering waves of completion took them both in perfect harmony.

And this time when she said she had to leave, Noble let her go, watching from the warm tangle of his covers, where the scent of lavender clung, as she swiftly, soundlessly dressed. Her quick farewell kiss twisted
sweetly to his soul, then she slipped out into the night, abandoning him to a restless slumber.

Juliet hurried through the shadows toward the single light she’d left burning. She hugged herself, holding in the feel of him, the memory of him for as long as possible, but knowing it wouldn’t last for long. She wouldn’t think about watching him ride out in the morning or of the long, fretful days that would follow. Instead, she would gather the moment about her to insulate her fragile heart from those inevitable sorrows.

Lost in those golden reminiscences, she slipped inside her adobe home to the sudden shock of discovery.

“Where have you been, Juliet?”

Chapter 18

She drew up with a gasp, then exhaled when she recognized her father’s silhouette by the stove and smelled his pungent pipe tobacco. Had he been waiting there for her, fully aware of where she’d gone and why? She tried a desperate bluff, not so much to protect her virtue as to keep the glow of the intimate night with Noble to herself in privacy.