Read Online Only Mine by Elizabeth Lowell - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Elizabeth Lowell
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eyes, and wondered how she could hurt so much and show no visible wound.
Wolfe gave Jessica a hooded glance. He knew she was only pretending to sleep, for her body was too stiff and she shivered from time to time as though standing in a cold wind. She clearly didn’t have any more questions about Willow Black. It was equally clear that Jessica had no desire to hear any more on the subject of Western women.
With a rather grim smile, Wolfe tipped his hat forward over his eyes, braced his feet on the facing seat, and congratulated himself on finding a chink in the aristocratic armor surrounding Lady Jessica Charteris Lonetree. He had been beginning to wonder if she had one. Her stubbornness had surprised him. He had expected her to give up and return to England long before now. She was accustomed to being waited on, to having endless rounds ofteas and balls, to being protected and comforted by everyone within reach of her bewitching smile.
None of that had happened in America. Wolfe had deliberately left her alone. When that hadn’t affected her determination, he had made her go without servants, but that had been harder on him than on her. He would never forget the silky electricity of her hair clinging to him as he brushed it, or the elegant femininity of her back beneath fine lingerie as he buttoned each tiny button for her. Nor would he forget the stab of fear he had felt when he heard her scream, or the relieved laughter that had followed when he found her safe, though held prisoner by her braid.
A girl that helpless won’t last long out here, Wolfe assured himself silently. The West requires a woman with staying power. A woman like Willow.
But it wasn’t Willow’s blond hair and hazel eyes that haunted Wolfe’s thoughts and his fitful sleep. It was a sensuous red-haired elf weeping crystal tears.
3
T HE silence between Wolfe and Jessica wasn’t broken until afternoon, when a young, rather pregnant woman got on board. Her single trunk had been lashed awkwardly to the boot, for Jessica’s trunks took up much of the top, even though Wolfe had decreed that only three would come on the stage with them. The rest had been put aboard a freight wagon destined for Denver.
“Thank you, sir,” said the young woman, as Wolfe handed her into the stagecoach. “I’m afraid I’m more clumsy each day.”
“It’s a difficult time,” Wolfe said, subtly eyeing the girl’s waistline. In the stagecoach’s dim interior light, she looked at least six months pregnant. “Are you traveling alone?”
The kindness in Wolfe’s voice made the girl smile shyly at her hands. “Yes, sir. I couldn’t bear being away from my husband any longer. My aunt and uncle wanted me to stay in Ohio until the baby was born, but I just couldn’t wait. My husband is stationed at Bent’s Fort, you see.”
“Then you have an even longer trip than we do. We’re going only as far as Denver.”
The girl sat down thankfully and smoothed herhands over her dress. The costume was as expensive as Jessica’s, and considerably less mussed. The girl looked barely seventeen. She was plainly uneasy at the prospect of the stage ride.
“I’ll sit up with the driver,” Wolfe said. “It will be more comfortable for you.”
“Oh, no, sir,” she said quickly, looking no higher than his chest. “It’s too raw out there for man or beast. Besides, it’s the wilderness that makes me nervous, not you. There are rumors of Indians.” She shuddered. “The thought of those murderous heathens being anywhere near me just gives me the shivers.”
Wolfe concealed his amusement.
“Not all Indians are murderous,” Jessica said. “Some are quite hospitable. I’ve spent time in their camps.”
“You were a hostage?” the girl asked, horrified and fascinated at the same time.
“Hardly. Lord Robert Stewart was a friend of the Cheyenne. We were guests.”
“I’d sooner befriend the Devil as a redskin, and that’s a fact. You can’t trust them.”
Wolfe gave Jessica a hooded glance. He knew she was only pretending to sleep, for her body was too stiff and she shivered from time to time as though standing in a cold wind. She clearly didn’t have any more questions about Willow Black. It was equally clear that Jessica had no desire to hear any more on the subject of Western women.
With a rather grim smile, Wolfe tipped his hat forward over his eyes, braced his feet on the facing seat, and congratulated himself on finding a chink in the aristocratic armor surrounding Lady Jessica Charteris Lonetree. He had been beginning to wonder if she had one. Her stubbornness had surprised him. He had expected her to give up and return to England long before now. She was accustomed to being waited on, to having endless rounds ofteas and balls, to being protected and comforted by everyone within reach of her bewitching smile.
None of that had happened in America. Wolfe had deliberately left her alone. When that hadn’t affected her determination, he had made her go without servants, but that had been harder on him than on her. He would never forget the silky electricity of her hair clinging to him as he brushed it, or the elegant femininity of her back beneath fine lingerie as he buttoned each tiny button for her. Nor would he forget the stab of fear he had felt when he heard her scream, or the relieved laughter that had followed when he found her safe, though held prisoner by her braid.
A girl that helpless won’t last long out here, Wolfe assured himself silently. The West requires a woman with staying power. A woman like Willow.
But it wasn’t Willow’s blond hair and hazel eyes that haunted Wolfe’s thoughts and his fitful sleep. It was a sensuous red-haired elf weeping crystal tears.
3
T HE silence between Wolfe and Jessica wasn’t broken until afternoon, when a young, rather pregnant woman got on board. Her single trunk had been lashed awkwardly to the boot, for Jessica’s trunks took up much of the top, even though Wolfe had decreed that only three would come on the stage with them. The rest had been put aboard a freight wagon destined for Denver.
“Thank you, sir,” said the young woman, as Wolfe handed her into the stagecoach. “I’m afraid I’m more clumsy each day.”
“It’s a difficult time,” Wolfe said, subtly eyeing the girl’s waistline. In the stagecoach’s dim interior light, she looked at least six months pregnant. “Are you traveling alone?”
The kindness in Wolfe’s voice made the girl smile shyly at her hands. “Yes, sir. I couldn’t bear being away from my husband any longer. My aunt and uncle wanted me to stay in Ohio until the baby was born, but I just couldn’t wait. My husband is stationed at Bent’s Fort, you see.”
“Then you have an even longer trip than we do. We’re going only as far as Denver.”
The girl sat down thankfully and smoothed herhands over her dress. The costume was as expensive as Jessica’s, and considerably less mussed. The girl looked barely seventeen. She was plainly uneasy at the prospect of the stage ride.
“I’ll sit up with the driver,” Wolfe said. “It will be more comfortable for you.”
“Oh, no, sir,” she said quickly, looking no higher than his chest. “It’s too raw out there for man or beast. Besides, it’s the wilderness that makes me nervous, not you. There are rumors of Indians.” She shuddered. “The thought of those murderous heathens being anywhere near me just gives me the shivers.”
Wolfe concealed his amusement.
“Not all Indians are murderous,” Jessica said. “Some are quite hospitable. I’ve spent time in their camps.”
“You were a hostage?” the girl asked, horrified and fascinated at the same time.
“Hardly. Lord Robert Stewart was a friend of the Cheyenne. We were guests.”
“I’d sooner befriend the Devil as a redskin, and that’s a fact. You can’t trust them.”
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