The Wildest Heart (53 page)

“Christ, I don't know! You're such a damned unpredictable woman, Ro. I never have known what to make of you, or what you wanted of me.” He had begun to roll a cigarette, each movement swift and impatient. For a moment, as the match flared, I saw the familiar green fires come to life in his eyes. “An' I still ain't certain…” he went on in the same deliberately expressionless voice, just as if he had not paused.

In the sudden silence between us I heard Monique's high laugh from inside the house.

“Then that makes two of us.” I couldn't keep the slight breathlessness from my voice. “Lucas, don't you see?”

“I can see that it's time you went back inside, before your husband starts wondering what you're doin' out here for so long, with the hired help.”

Why did he have to remind me of Mark? I bit my lip, trying to keep my voice as even as his.

“But we have to talk. Please, Lucas!”

He shrugged. “Sure. You're the boss.” In the faint glow of his cigarette his face looked bleak and withdrawn. It was almost as if he was determined, after what had just taken place, to put a distance between us. And I was equally determined not to let it happen again.

“When?” I persisted, and saw his brows draw together.

“Tomorrow maybe. I'll think of something.”

Something in his voice warned me not to press him any further, and yet I was not content to leave things as they were. I wanted reassurance. Before I was forced to go back indoors to the man who was my husband, I wanted, once more, to feel of my lover's kiss on my lips.

I saw him send the half-smoked cigarette arcing away into the darkness and put my hand up, tracing the outline of his mouth with my fingers.

“Lucas.”

With a fury that startled me he caught my wrist, forcing it down.

“Don't!”
I had the impression he spoke through clenched teeth. “Go back in the house now, Rowena. I've had just about all I can take for one night—what the hell are you trying to do?”

He was still holding my wrist, fingers gripping it so hard I thought it must surely snap. But I almost welcomed the pain, because he was inflicting it, and I knew why.

“Do you think I want to go back in there? Oh, God, Lucas, will we ever stop hurting each other? I'm not pretending—I never have, with you. It's only been my pride that's made me try to hate you. Even to hurt you, if I could, because you hurt me. You see, I haven't loved a man before, I haven't been prepared.”

“Don't, Ro.” But this time his voice was a husky whisper, no longer harsh as it had been a moment ago. “You didn't have to tell me that, I guess I always knew it, and yet I—Christ, if you only knew how mixed up I've been! But tomorrow…” He kissed me then, without another word, his kiss at once gentle and angry, tender and cruel. And when he released me, he said roughly, “There! Take that back with you to your bedroom tonight!”

It seemed that it was only seconds later, as I still stood there with one hand on the railing to support myself, that I found myself listening to the sound of retreating hoofbeats; Lucas's words still echoing in my ears.

I had to go inside.

Straightening my shoulders, I pulled the shawl closely about myself as if to ward off the chill I felt gathering in me like a cold hand closing about my heart. Without giving myself any more time to think, I pushed open the door and the heat and the cigar smoke hit me like a blow in the face. And I told myself that if I had never acted before, I would act now, and deceive them all.

Four pairs of eyes turned to watch me as I walked slowly into the center of the room. Monique's slanted green gaze—amused, and somehow knowing at the same time. Montoya's dark, glittering stare, over his twisted, cynical smile. John Kingman's eyes told me nothing. Mark…

I let the shawl slip to the floor with a careless shrug of my shoulders, smiling at them all.

“My goodness! Are you still talking business?” I sat down in the chair that Mark held stiffly for me and picked up the fan I had left on the table, beginning to fan myself languidly. “It's so hot in here, after the cool air outside.”

“Did you walk far?” Mark sounded as if the words had been forced from his throat. I met his eyes, and they seemed unusually bright.

I raised my shoulders negligently, almost glad that the role I had chosen to play kept my thoughts occupied and concentrated. “Oh, we stayed on the porch in the end, and talked. I didn't care to ruin my slippers in the dust.”

I looked around at them all, my eyebrows raised. “Why is everyone so silent? Mark…” and this time I looked directly into his eyes, noticing his flushed, almost sullen face. “You didn't mind, did you? After what we had talked about, I knew that you would understand.”

Montoya interposed smoothly, “I think we were all rather worried because my headstrong friend does not take kindly to following orders. And especially those given by a woman. But I was sure, señora Rowena, that you would not find it difficult to persuade him otherwise.”

I shrugged, as if I had dismissed an unpleasant subject “We argued a great deal, of course. But at least I made him admit that he had lost fairly. I believe that when he is over feeling angry he will keep his word.”

Monique's laugh broke the slight tension that had seized us all. “There! Didn't I tell you? ‘Rowena is quite capable of holding her own,' I told these silly men. And you see, I was right.” Her eyes caught mine in what was almost a conspiratorial look. “And now that you are back,
cherie,
and quite unharmed, shall we retire? I think we will have a long day ahead of us.”

I do not choose to dwell too closely on the rest of that night. Once we had left the others, Mark's indifferent attitude changed to one of anger and jealousy. The only way I could calm him was to affect an air of arrogance.

“For heaven's sake Mark! Don't act so—so middle class. Surely you remember that I married you of my own free will?”

He had drunk too much brandy, and swayed slightly on his feet, the flush on his face more apparent than ever.

“Yes, by God! I remember that. But do you? Does he?”

“You brought him here, Mark. Pray, do not spoil the effect of your clever idea with a display of jealousy.” I pouted deliberately. “Surely you trust me? I am already beginning to see him through your eyes, now you must allow me the opportunity you promised—of bringing him to heel. Perhaps I might even be able to persuade him to admit to a few of the crimes he has committed.”

“Rowena, Rowena! If I thought…”

Mark's hands tightened on my shoulders, but I continued to remove the diamond stars from my hair, wrapping each one carefully in tissue paper before I put them away in the chamois leather bag I kept them in.

“If you're afraid of him, Mark, then why don't you send him away? Tell him we've changed our minds, that his services are no longer needed.”

My purposely indifferent tone had the effect wanted.

“Damnation! Of course I'm not afraid of him! An illiterate, half-breed gunman, with barely enough intelligence to follow orders… and you'll see that for yourself too, soon enough!” Mark began unhooking my gown, and his voice became almost feverish. “Yes—we'll use him, and the blind hate he has for my uncle—his own killer instincts. And he won't even guess it! When Lucas Cord is the one to kill Todd Shannon there won't be a person in the whole territory who won't think it was done out of revenge. And in his turn, he'll die for it! There'll be no more reminders, nothing left to come between us. And it will happen soon—very soon, my darling.” Mark laughed triumphantly. He went on, his words slightly slurred, “I think that you must be the one to suggest it to him. After all, he gave his word that he would follow your orders. And I will arrange for just the right opportunity. Nothing will go wrong this time! Don't you see the subtle irony of it all?”

This time, Mark had said. What had he meant? Was it possible that… but no, I must not start thinking along those lines yet. I still had a part to play. It was all I could do to control my expression, to force a faint smile as I met his bloodshot eyes in the mirror.

“You're even cleverer than I had already suspected, Mark. But when is all this to happen?”

“Soon.” He mumbled the word, and I realized, with a feeling of relief, that he was more inebriated than I had thought. He swayed against me as he bent his head to kiss my bare shoulder, and it was all I could do not to shudder.

“Soon,” he repeated, his hands cupping my breasts. “There's no reason to wait any longer! We'll leave here very early in the morning, the day after tomorrow. You're well enough now to travel, aren't you?”

Fortunately for my state of mind, the most I had to suffer that night was a few drunken caresses. It was not difficult to persuade Mark that it was my turn to undress him tonight, if he would only help me by lying down, and no sooner had he done so than he fell into a drunken stupor. I took off his boots, and let him continue to sleep as he was, lying as far away from him as possible when I finally went to bed myself. But before I turned out the lamp, I could not help turning to look at Mark's sleeping face. How handsome and almost boyish he looked, in spite of his flushed cheeks and slack mouth. Was it possible that this was the same man I had once thought of as my dearest friend? Had I really pitied him, and blamed myself for using him?

But how clever Mark had been, how infinitely patient! I had begun to trust him completely, until one by one his lies and deceptions had been revealed—with a logical explanation for each one. And my mind had accepted what was presented to me as evidence. I had despised my instincts, disdained the pull of my emotions. Oh, God, why? Because Lucas was no lawyer, and had been too stubborn to answer to my accusations with excuses and “reasonable” explanations? How easy and how convenient to blame a man already branded an outlaw and a murderer with other crimes. And Mark—it came to me suddenly that all along it had been Mark who had subtly, certainly pointed out to me all the evidence that supposedly showed Lucas's guilt. Yes, and it had been Mark too, in just as subtle a way, who had contrived to make me see his uncle as a selfish, domineering man, even while he pretended to defend him. How could I have been so blind? Why had I let myself be trapped?

I didn't have to feign the headache I used as an excuse to lie abed late the next morning. I had only to study my face in the mirror later to see how pale it looked, with the dark smudges under my eyes testifying to the sleepless night I had spent. I grimaced at my reflection as I began to pin my hair up with slow, lethargic movements. I was becoming an accomplished actress. This morning I had put off Mark's expressed concern by snapping irritably that he had kept me awake half the night with his tossing and turning, and he had left me with an apology, announcing that he had promised to ride out with John Kingman to see to arrangements for our journey the next day.

No, I had not felt ready to face Mark yet; I was relieved that I would be spared his presence until later in the afternoon. I was beginning, slowly and painfully, to realize the full extent of the folly I had committed in marrying Mark. I was Mrs. Mark Shannon. I had given up not only my name, but my freedom as well. And what on earth are you going to do now? My pale reflection gave me back no answers. I might almost have been looking at a stranger's face that was far too thin, a haunted expression in the eyes.

The cheerful maid who was dusting the living room told me that Monique was out on the sun porch, where she could usually be found at this time of the day, a pitcher of iced tea beside her. “I'm lazy!” Monique admitted cheerfully. “I would like nothing better than to lie out here all day and sleep…”

But this morning, in spite of the oppressive heat, she was certainly not sleeping. I heard her gay laughter as I pushed open the door and stepped out onto the porch, my eyes blinking as they accustomed themselves to the sunlight.

Monique was not alone; clad in a cream silk shirt and a tightly fitting pair of leather riding breeches, she was perched on the wooden railing, one leg swinging as she smiled into the face of her companion. And he—did he have to be sitting so close to her that their shoulders touched? Before they noticed me I had time to observe that Lucas had shaved off his beard and trimmed his hair, leaving thick sideburns that came almost to his jawline. I could see the cleft in his cheek deepen as he smiled at something Monique had said. He looked younger and more carefree than I had ever seen him, his checked cotton shirt open at the neck to reveal a carelessly knotted blue bandanna, and I was shaken by a rush of love and desire that left me weak.

The next moment, when Monique put her hand on his arm, I was ragingly jealous. Now I understood how some women could threaten to scratch a rival's eyes out. I would dearly have liked to rake my nails down the smooth skin of Monique's face!

I deliberately let the door bang shut behind me, and was glad that the sound made Monique start. “Oh, Rowena! I didn't think you'd be awake so early! Have you eaten anything yet? Would you care for a glass of iced tea?”

Lucas, his eyes crinkling at the corners, had come to his feet with an easy, casual movement, and the angry thought flashed through my mind, as he put his hands on either side of Monique's waist to help her down, that he had learned some manners somewhere after all, even if he had never bothered to show me such consideration!

He had been smiling at Monique. Why did his eyes have to take on such a guarded look as soon as he looked at me? Even his husky voice held a slight trace of mockery as he acknowledged my presence. “Mornin'… ma'am.”

“Good morning,” I said coldly, and saw Monique's eyes flash from one to the other of us with a wickedly amused expression.

“Lucas,
mon cher,
will you bring a chair for Rowena? Oui, that one, by the door. Sitting on that railing would ruin her pretty gown.” The subtly caressing tone in which she spoke irritated me almost as much as Lucas's exaggerated politeness did. I found myself gritting my teeth when Lucas obeyed her without a murmur, without even offering to lift me up to sit on the wide railing as they had done.

Just as if she had not noticed my silence, Monique continued chattering unconcernedly.

“We have already been riding, Lucas and I. But it became far too hot, and I have so much to do, to prepare for our journey tomorrow.” She gave me an inquiring look. “Did Mark tell you?”

I tried not to notice that Lucas had resumed his original seat on the railing, his back against one of the wooden roof supports, one foot on the floor for balance.

“Only that we will be leaving tomorrow.” I wanted suddenly to go to Lucas and run my fingers through his thick, dark hair—making him notice me, making him want me. He was bareheaded, the sun turning his hair bronze and gold. And when his face did not look sullen or angry, and he smiled, I could understand why so many other women, even Monique, had wanted him. With an effort, I took my mind back to what Monique was saying.

“…but how like a man! They never tell us anything. Of course I am
desolée
that John will have to stay behind, but perhaps such a long journey might have its consolations too, do you not agree?” She looked directly at Lucas, the glow in her green eyes almost predatory. How could any man not keep his eyes on her vivid, openly inviting beauty? Her auburn hair glowed richly, with a fire of its own; and as usual, it was obvious she had worn nothing under the thin blouse, with far too many buttons undone.

I said abruptly, “Where are we going?” and they both looked at me.

Again it was Monique who answered. “We should make camp just outside San Antonio tomorrow night. A very small and dusty town, not far from Socorro.” Did I only imagine it, or did she glance obliquely and somehow significantly at Lucas again? “And after that,” she went on, “we will have to cross the desert for a while, until we arrive at a certain place, close to Carizozo, where Montoya will meet us with the rest of his men. From there… but you know the rest, Rowena. You've listened to all our plans.” With a laugh, she stretched her arms over her head. “Rowena doesn't think we will succeed. Perhaps, Lucas, you can convince her that we cannot fail!”

I could hardly believe that she intended to leave me alone with Lucas, after the bold way she had been flirting with him, but she did.

“I have much packing to do. And if I leave you two alone for a short time, you would not mind too much, I think?”

Meeting Lucas's eyes, I was hardly aware when the door closed behind her, or which of us moved first. I forgot that only minutes before I had been jealous. His arms held me, I felt his lips against my temple, and I no longer resisted the instincts I had once decried as wanton. I slipped my hands under his shirt, and felt the muscles of his back move under my fingers. I heard myself say, “I wanted to kill Monique. And you too. I must be going mad.”

“How do you think I felt last night, knowin' you were going to lie with him?”

I tilted my head back, looking into his face.

“Lucas—what are we going to do?”

His arms tightened, almost cutting my breath off.

“If you're sure, woman, you know I ain't got nothing to offer you. You know what I am, an' how it's going to be. Running and hiding, maybe for all our lives. But, God, I want you, Ro. I've tried to fight it, I've tried to tell myself you're better off this way.”

“And I—do you think a woman is not capable of wanting as hard and as strongly as a man? I've always known I've wanted you. If I have nothing else, it's you I need. I want to be where you are, lie in your arms at night, bear your children—do you think anything else matters to me?”

He laughed softly, but this time it was not the bitter, cynical laughter of a man who had learned to trust in nothing and no one.

“I think you're crazy. Just like I am for even askin' you to leave everything and run off with me. Maybe you'll change your mind, once you've found out how it feels. But if you come, I don't think I'm goin' to let you go again.” His face suddenly hard, he looked down at me. “Ro—you're sure? Sure you trust me enough?”

“I love you. Isn't that enough?”

“Then sit up here an' stop distracting me. There's a few things you have to know first.”

The railing was sun-warm beneath me, and wide. But Lucas kept his arm around my waist while he spoke, his voice carefully emotionless.

“You might change your mind,” Lucas said again. “After you talk with Bragg.” He must have felt my stiffening, for I thought I felt the muscles in his arm become taut. “He's going to be at Fort Selden. He wanted me to bring you there, so he could explain things. That's what he said, anyhow. You know how he is, Ro, as well as I. Won't tell any more than he has to. Wasted part of the time I did hunting him up. You put questions in my mind, darn you! And Ro—you better know this—before I talked to him I had it all set in my mind I was goin' to leave you be; that you'd done what you always wanted to do, marry one of your own kind. But then he started hinting about Mark Shannon. ‘There are some men who are clever enough to plant seeds… and wait for them to take root,' he said. ‘The patient ones are the most dangerous.' But right up until the time I saw your eyes an' the sleep-walkin' look on your face, I wasn't sure. Ain't rightly sure now.”

“And I—I've been sure for a long time. I've had time to learn… a lot of things.”