A
ll
that bravado left Jake when he realized he had no clue how to find Bruisner now. Waiting was never easy, and he had a job back in Plateau. He missed Meredith so much he thought he was losing marrow in his bones. They felt achingly weak. Skipping every other stair, he headed into the hotel’s lobby, thinking about eating. But it was right at noon, and a crowd of people swallowed the anteroom to the restaurant. Sighing, for he never liked being in a throng, he decided to head to his room when his eye caught on a most decidedly tiny woman.
She wore expensive purplish silk, her dress swirled the way the ladies of the day wore it, gathered here, puffed there. It was tucked around her wee waist, reflecting the woman’s curves. Curves he knew intimately.
Meredith.
Lord, how he wanted to race to her. How he wanted her in his arms and to feel her little body against his. Rip those clothes off, for she was his earthy fae, best naked or with a loose sheet, revealing her like a present.
But there she stood, talking to a man.
As Jake’s heart smashed into his ribs, he watched the intense way they spoke to each other. He couldn’t see the visage of the fellow, but his back and side. He had more than a foot over Meredith, and there was power through his chest and shoulders, the way military men sometimes carried it. Then Jake finally noticed his coloring—the blackest of black hair. His heart beat triple time then, for the man resembled Thomas, his younger brother.
Were they here to surprise him? His woman and his family had found him at long last? His eyes felt as though sand gathered in them, his throat closed.
Then the man turned revealing more of his face. Not Thomas.
Jake’s heart collapsed. He found it difficult to stand with the weight of what had just happened.
Some woman squealed and threw herself into the man’s arms. He smiled broadly, welcomingly, holding a tall blonde. Meredith grinned bashfully then dipped her gaze to the thickly red-carpeted floor. Slowly, so slowly her eyes caught his. Like an idiot, he hadn’t moved since he’d had the stupid thought his family would be searching for him, that his woman would be here for...him.
She appeared to shuffle toward him. The noonday’s light streaked through, the way the winter sun can with fragile rays, but somehow all of them found her bonny face, illuminating her, ensuring him she really was here. Turning enough to look straight at him, he saw a cut along her lips, a bruise on her jaw stained Meredith’s otherwise perfect creamy with golden freckles complexion.
Moving without thought, he raced to her. She’d been hurt. And that was all he thought of.
His hand cradled her cheek carefully, while he examined her injury. “What happened?”
“Um, Meredith?” the blonde woman asked protectively.
When he’d touched her, she had nuzzled into his hand, closing her gorgeous purple eyes, her dark, glossy lashes casting shadows over her cheeks. But now her lids shuttered open. She held his hand, moving it away from her soft visage.
Smiling, she said, “This is Jake.”
The tall blonde raked her gaze over him, scrutinizing the whole time. Then her lips curled up at the ends. “He’s handsome.”
The man whose arm was still around the blonde scowled at her.
She merely giggled, placing a hand on his chest. “You’re very handsome, husband of mine.”
He grinned again, then studied Jake too. “This is the man you two Calamity Janes have been hunting?” His accent was undeniably English. Smooth like an aristocrat. Jake forced himself not to bristle.
Granted, at one time he’d idealized English officers who happened upon MacKay country, but after Cromwell...even with two hundred years between the Rump Parliamentary usurpation and now, he was hard pressed not to instantly recoil at such an accent.
However, Meredith made it easy to forget, as a blush grew along her cheeks.
“You know Calamity Jane?” the blonde woman asked with a reverent whisper.
The man pointedly looked at Jake with a nervous smile. “My wife doesn’t think I keep current of the times.”
Jake had heard whispers about a Calamity Jane, but, hell, there were more myths and legends of the West than there seemed to be real people.
“I, er, right.” The blonde smiled at him. “I’m Erva and this is Will. We’re friends of Meredith’s.”
Jake wondered about their surnames, why the introduction was so...intimate, but held out his hand. Social dictates and all. He might have been a bit rough shaking the Englishman’s hand, but when he swooped in and kissed Erva’s, when she giggled, his sour disposition eroded somewhat.
“You’re fawning over the man,” Will said with a teasing glint in his eyes directed at his wife.
She giggled again, then smiled at Meredith. “I like him.”
Meredith softly chuckled herself, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. Even though she still held his hand, it wasn’t enough for Jake. And although he knew the Englishman was devoted to his wife, Jake’s jealousy had flared to life, and he felt an overwhelming need to claim Meredith as his own. What that claiming looked like he didn’t know. Perhaps he’d barbarically throw his woman over his shoulder and stomp back to his hotel room? The idea had merit, he thought.
But then glancing down at his wee fae, the bruise along her jaw, the cut in the corner of her lips, she’d been hurt and had yet to explain what had happened.
“I think we should leave these two alone to talk,” Erva said.
“Yes,” Will agreed. “And I should take you away from the man before you fawn even more over him.”
“Jealous, my darling?” She turned more towards Will. They were creating a cocoon of space betwixt the two of them, and Jake knew he was jealous. He wanted that with Meredith, but the last words she’d spoken to him suddenly taunted him:
I never want to see you again.
“When it comes to you, darling, always.” Will smiled, bowing slightly to Meredith and Jake. “So nice to meet the two of you, but I fear I must take my wife away now. I’ve rented a hotel room. 2B. Shall we meet again, have dinner in a few hours?”
Meredith opened her mouth, then looked at Jake. “Would you like to have dinner with us?”
He was confused, angry, a bit melancholy, and so happy all at once. He had no idea why Meredith was here, her injuries, but they did need to talk. She needed to clarify why she would spurn him and now hold his hand as if she’d never let it go. He needed to tell her of his intentions.
Jake gave a quick nod.
“Lovely.” Will beamed then reached down and swung his wife in his arms, while she tittered. “You, missy, have some ‘splaining to do,” he said with an odd Spanish accent.
Erva squealed again. “Ricky Ricardo! I love
I Love Lucy
! Do it again.”
Will laughed.
“Um, Erva,” Meredith called out.
Will wheeled about, still holding onto his wife.
Meredith blushed even more, then whispered, “Coyote.”
“Oh.” Erva nodded, then looked at her husband. “Put me down for a sec.”
He carefully released her back to her feet, his black brows furrowed.
Erva smiled at Jake nervously, then stood very close to Meredith, their skirts touching. Looking down at Meredith’s legs, she said, “I have a room for you and ordered a juicy steak with potatoes. Come with me so Meredith can talk to Jake alone.”
A muffled groan was emitted from under Meredith’s skirts, then Jake saw a dog’s tail flit from under one skirt to the next.
“He’s under your skirt?” Will asked incensed.
“Got a better idea how to conceal a coyote in a hotel?” Erva said defiantly.
“But he’s under your skirt.”
“He’s been good. The perfect protector. Right, Meredith?”
Meredith nodded enthusiastically.
Will rolled his eyes. He turned more to Jake with a huff. “Welcome to our merry madness, by the by.”
Something about what Will had said made Meredith stiffen. Ah, yes, the nickname of hers, Mad Mere. Lord, he and Meredith had a lot to say to each other.
“Will.” His wife pursed her lips. “Meredith and Jake need to talk.”
“Right. Right.” He smiled at Meredith then Jake. “Dinner it is. See you then.”
Meredith nodded and so did Jake, not having a clue what had just happened.
When the couple took their leave, ascending the winding stairs to the hotel rooms, Meredith turned and stepped closer to Jake.
“I—I have so much to tell you.”
He nodded. “Ye have a coyote as a pet? Ye speak in codes? What was the ‘I love I love Lucy?’“
Meredith grimaced, took a huge inhalation, then shook her head. “Before I explain that, I—I have to tell you I’m so sorry for what I said. I’m so sorry I acted that way. I was scared...I’m still scared—”
“I scare ye?”
She shook her head and glanced around the lobby. People still milled about, but they seemed to be too busy to pay much heed to the merry madness that had just ensued, let alone the whispering he and Meredith commenced.
“What happened to yer face, Meredith? That looks suspiciously like ye were punched.”
“Not punched. Slapped.”
“Someone slapped ye?” he asked a wee too loud.
She glanced around the antechamber again. “Do you have a room we could talk in?”
Lord, he’d wanted her there, but he was fearful of what she might say next, angered someone would dare strike his wee fae, and so damned confused.
He nodded.
“Will you show me to your room?”
The way her whisper suddenly turned into silk, the lushness of her voice, the innuendo of things they could do in his chamber...desire poured through him, making his stomach and groin tighten. He inhaled, praying for the strength not to rip her clothes from her little body, to be able to truly talk, for there was much they both needed to say to each other.
*
M
eredith’s hands shook as Jake showed her into a small room, complete with a brass bed, a night side table, and two chairs facing a fireplace with only smoldering orange coals warming the room. Red-orange curtains were pulled aside, revealing the gray sun of winter. Even without a roaring fire and frail sunbeams, the room was inviting. Meredith thought it was especially welcoming with Jake’s trousers strewn about the brass baseboard of the bed, a pair of boots by the fire, even his shotgun and rifle seemed a happy sight. Because they belonged to him.
She was ecstatic to see him and couldn’t stop touching him. He’d held her hand, tucked against his bent arm as they’d ascended the stairs to his room, but she’d wanted to reach out with her other hand and touch his glossy brown hair that curled under his hat. She’d missed him so much. Words were hard to come by when he shut the door of his little room.
All she could think of was how it was time to tell him the truth about herself, but how she starved to touch him again. Her belly fluttered, her heart seemed to be somewhere close to her throat.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated from earlier.
He nodded, took off his hat, flung it on the bed behind her. Then in one move he held her roughly against him, his lips pommeling down on hers. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled him down further, deepening the kiss. She licked at the seam of his lips and he opened, pushing his tongue into her mouth. Their tongues laved against each other’s. A moan came from deep within his chest, and her knees nearly buckled at the sound.
“I missed ye,” he whispered as he kissed along her ear, sucking in her lobe, making her curl her body into his.
But something about hearing his accent, knowing he was hiding part of himself, made her have the strength to pull away slightly. She smiled up at him. “We need to talk.”
“Aye, I agree. It just feels so damned good to hold ye again.”
She lunged for a deeper embrace then, just holding him, feeling his whiskered cheek against her own. “I missed you so much. I know it’s only been a little over a day, but I missed you...” so much, she thought over and over in her mind.
It was difficult to do, but she had to—gain a bit of distance, so she could talk to him, tell him who she really was. Taking him by his bulging arms, she guided him to the bed, where it slightly squeaked under his weight. He was so lean, so chiseled, that often she wouldn’t think him heavy, but he was tall and made from marble muscle apparently, since she could barely keep her hands to herself as she tried to refrain from jumping on him.
“I—I need to tell you a bit about myself,” she began, her voice reedy.
He shook his head, utterly surprising her. “The last thing I said to ye—”
“I didn’t mean any of what I’d said to you,” Meredith interrupted. “I—I was scared.”
“I scare ye? And, Jesus, Meredith, what the hell happened to yer bonny face? Lord, lass, did it hurt when I kissed ye?” His accent was thick now, lilting, almost as if he weren't trying to cover it any more.
She shook her head emphatically. Even if it had hurt, she wouldn’t have told him, because kissing him felt so much better than the pain.
Her hand shot over her cheek and the area along her jaw where Bruisner’s hit had bruised her. In an instant, Jake stood again, pulling her hand away from her face.