Deborah Camp (30 page)

She clung to him, clutching his upper arms as he set a blistering pace. For a few crystal-clear moments she was able to delight in the sight of his body and the glistening beads of sweat that dotted his brow and ran in rivulets down his neck and chest. He’s a glorious animal, she thought, remembering the first time she’d inspected him and had likened him to a hairy beast. She loved the beast in him because it brought out the beauty in her.

Her climax rushed upon her, swamped her, and left her gasping for air as Rook continued to steal kisses from her parted lips and explore her mouth with a tongue that took her breath away. Suddenly he tore his mouth from hers and flung back his head as his own pleasure exploded within him. He moved through her, mingling with her soul and driving to the very heart of her. Cassie sighed and felt tears sting her eyes as she rode his thunder. She knew she would never, never, never love like this again. This is as good as it gets, a wise, triumphant inner voice informed her, and she thanked all things holy for the pleasure and the pain of it all.

Cassie slipped into a white cotton dressing gown that Jewel had given her and tiptoed from the bedroom. The sun had set, but the air had not given up its heat. Cassie went to the bucket and drank two dippers of water; then she poured a third over her hands and splashed her face. It cooled and refreshed her.

Rook peeked around the doorframe, saw the dipper in her hand and the glistening drops of water on her face and neck, and grinned.

“Good idea,” he said as he came into the room, unmindful of his nakedness.

“I swear, Rook,” Cassie said, blushing and handing the dipper to him. “You shouldn’t walk around like that.”

“Can’t help it. I was born this way.” He drank the water, dropped the dipper back into the bucket, and
wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. “Cassie?”

“Hmmm?” It was all she could manage. She didn’t want to move because she was afraid he might stop feathering the skin just below her ear with his darting tongue.

“How can you be falling in love with Rutledge when you’re shivering in my arms?” He smoothed his hands along her head and tipped it back so he could see her eyes. Smiling gently, he waited patiently for her to open them. “How can that be? You’re not the type of woman to two-time a man, are you? I think you’re confused. I think I’m the man you’re falling for. What do you think?”

“I—I don’t know what to think,” she said truthfully, her defenses down. “I’ve been just barely muddling through ever since I met you.”

He placed his hands over the thin cotton covering her breasts and felt her nipples harden and press against his palms. “I never thought I’d come to feel about you the way I do,” he murmured, turning her around to face him. His eyes held hers while he parted her dressing gown and then he let his gaze drop to the high white mounds of her breasts, firm yet unaccountably soft. “Oh, honey. Making love to you is a special kind of picnic.”

His mouth closed on one breast, and his tongue darted across her nipple. Cassie drew in a sharp breath and her body arched forward in an unconsciously demanding motion. His reference to a picnic made her think of Boone, and thinking of Boone confused her. Oh, lordy! What was she doing, going from one man to another like one of Jewel’s girls? She squirmed away and turned her back on Rook as she pulled the dressing gown closed with shaking fingers.

“Cassie, don’t,” Rook begged. “It’s too late to push me away.”

“There’s no future in this for me. You talk bad about Boone, but I trust him. I can trust that he’ll be around tomorrow and the next day. I can’t say the same for you. The only thing I can say about you is that you’ll be gone one day and I won’t never see you again.” She faced him
again, her expression carefully arranged so as not to reveal the regret she was experiencing.

Take your medicine like a man, Cassie Mae. Like a man
.

“You’ll ride off one day, and for all I know you might join up with your brother’s gang,” she said. Then she added, turning the knife, “You say you’re not like him, but I’m not so sure. I figure bad blood might run in your veins too.”

Her accusations hit their mark. The vestiges of his ardor disappeared and he turned his gaze away. Self-consciously he grabbed the blanket from his cot and slung it around his waist, releasing his breath in a short, mirthless laugh.

“Bad blood, huh? You think Jewel’s no good?”

“No. It’s got nothing to do with Jewel. Your pa was no saint though, and you might take after him.”

“That so?” He tucked the ends of the blanket into place, retreating into its comparative safety as if to shield himself from her stinging attack. The urge to defend himself made him adopt a belligerence he didn’t feel. “And what makes you so high and mighty?
Your
pa wasn’t exactly of the best stock, was he? If we’re going to compare blood, let’s be realistic. What makes you think that a banker’s son would want to mix his blue blood with that of a penniless, uneducated spitfire like you? I have no doubt he whispered sweet nothings in your ear so he could get into your pants, but that’s all the words meant—nothing. Face it, Cassie. You’re not a blueblood.”

His burst of malicious anger came to an abrupt end when he saw Cassie’s eyes fill with tears and her mouth twist up from the pain his words had caused, before she managed to pinch her lips together in a grim, tight line. Rook reached out to her in a purely instinctive appeal for forgiveness, but she spun around and quickly moved away from him.

“I knew you were mean. I hate you,” she said, and the simple, stark statement chilled him to the bone.

“Cassie, forgive me. That’s my wounded pride talking.” He held out his hands in a helpless gesture and waited for some sign that she had relented and was still his lover. He quickly realized he’d ruined any chance of
that and despised himself for it. Discarding his meek behavior, he batted aside a chair and thrust his face close to hers.

“What’s the use?” he grumbled, glaring into her stony eyes. “I sure as hell can’t take back my words if you won’t let go of them.”

Cassie went woodenly into the bedroom, instinctively seeking a place where she could weep in peace. What hurt the most was that Rook had planted a bad seed in her mind. Boone was a banker’s son, an upstanding citizen. Why was he courting her? It didn’t make much sense, and she hated Rook for pointing that out to her.

Standing outside the mine, Cassie drank deeply from the canteen and pressed her hand against the small of her back where the aching was most intense. She squinted against the sun and guessed the time to be around three o’clock. She and Rook had been working the mine since right after sunup, stopping only for a quick noontime meal at the cabin before heading back with pickaxes and shovels.

The lure of the soft grass was more than she could resist and Cassie sat cross-legged, her arms propped behind her. She tipped her head back and closed her eyes to the glare of the sun, seeing pink and lavender against her eyelids. She and Rook hadn’t had much to say to each other during the day. No more than a few grunts had been exchanged over dinner, and their pickaxes had done all the talking in the mine. Feelings were still too close to the surface and smarting mightily from yesterday’s jagged-edged words that had cut so close to both their hearts.

She didn’t hate Rook, but she didn’t think too kindly of him for pointing out her social shortcomings so readily. He wasn’t any saint himself, Cassie thought with a burst of righteous anger. He snored and he took too many baths and he complained about working as if he thought he was too good for honest labor. He had a one-track mind too. No matter what you talked about he brought sex into it. Disgusting!

Rook came out of the mine pushing a wheelbarrow filled with dirt and rocks. He dumped out the contents, adding to the mound that grew bigger every day. Cassie handed
him the canteen and ran her eyes over his brawny chest. He gleamed like well-oiled mahogany. Thick veins ran down his arms like vines and Cassie found them absolutely fascinating. She examined her own arms, so slim compared to his. Blue-tinted veins were barely discernible beneath her skin.

“Holy Moses, it’s as hot as hell in that mine today.” He ran a hand down his chest where the hair was matted and damp. “Summer must be upon us, Sassy Cassie.”

She frowned at his new name for her and glared at him. “Why don’t you put some clothes on?” she asked sharply, angry at herself for having admired his body. “I think it’s downright sinful the way you strut around half naked in front of me.”

“What’s the matter? Does the sight of my manly form get you all hot and bothered?” He laughed when she glared at him again, then worked his shoulder. “The sun and air are good for my wound. It’s almost healed up.” He peered around at the puckered scar that showed white against his tanned skin. “It mostly just itches lately.”

“How would you like it if I went around half naked and—” Too late she realized the interest this statement was bound to arouse in him, but she waved it aside. “Never mind. Don’t answer that. I can tell your mind is as filthy as your body.” She sent him a long, slanted look, hoping to appear repelled rather than attracted by his semi-nakedness. “Let’s get back to work while the sun is still shining.”

“Let’s take a rest. I feel like a field mule.” He started to sit down beside her, but Cassie sprang to her feet and walked briskly toward the mine entrance. “Hey, hold on a minute,” he called. He grabbed her elbow and spun her around. “What’s the hurry? Why are you so all-fired anxious to work a played-out mine?” He tilted his head to one side and studied her with open curiosity. “You’re not telling me something, Cassandra Mae Potter. You say this mine is worthless, but you want to break your back in it day after day. Doesn’t make sense to me.”

“Not much makes sense to you,” she shot back at him as she jerked her arm free. “Let’s go to work.”

“No. I’m not working anymore until you tell me why you’re killing yourself in there.”

“Suit yourself.” She shrugged and picked up a shovel and a pickax. “I don’t need your help.”

“Cassie, for heaven’s sake!” He reached out and grabbed a fold of her blouse. “Quit being a bitch and talk to me!”

“Why should I? I’m nothing but a penniless, uneducated—”

“All right, all right!” He held up his hands to stop her venomous repetition of his fault-finding tirade of the day before. “We both said some stupid things yesterday.”

“You say stupid things every time you open your mouth, so why don’t you keep it shut for a change?”

His eyes widened at her in an exaggerated expression of shock at her words. “Aren’t we sharp-tongued today?” Before she could prove it further, Rook glanced toward a place he knew held bad memories for her. “Shorty was shot right outside this mine. Do you think there’s a connection?”

His change of subject worked like a charm. Cassie’s high-and-mighty indignation was gone in a flash, and she turned to look with grief and anger at the place where Shorty had died.

“I dunno.” Her voice was suddenly that of a little girl’s, and it tore at the heart. “Maybe. He thought he’d found something in there, but I can’t be sure. He was always dreaming and scheming.”

“Found something?”

Cassie shivered and stared blindly at Rook for a moment.

Found something, Cassie. Found something!
The voice from the past echoed through her and then merged with the present.

“What did he find?” Rook asked, coming closer and resting his hands on her shoulders. “Did he show you?”

“No,” she said after a long sigh. “I’m sure the mine’s worthless.”

“I think you have some doubts about that.”

“I’m not sure I should trust you.” She squinted one eye
in a way that clearly expressed her distrust. “I’m not sure I should trust anybody.”

“You’re letting me work with you in there, so I guess you trust me a little bit.” He looked past her at the gaping hole in the side of the hill. “I hope there’s something in there for you, Cassie, but it doesn’t look too good.”

She couldn’t mistake his sincerity in his voice, and that made her want to confide in him. After all, he
had
been slaving away in the mine with her. Rook was lots of questionable things, but he’d never struck her as money hungry.

“When did he tell you he’d found something?” Rook asked, breaking into her thoughts.

“Right before he was kilt.”

“ ‘Killed,’ ” Rook said, correcting her automatically. “Well, what do you think he found? Gold?”

“Didn’t say.” She shook her head to discourage Rook’s growing interest. “Pa was bent a little. What I mean is, his mind sorta wandered. He told me more than once that he’d seen evil faces in there and heard angels talking. So you see?” She spread her hands helplessly. “You can’t put much faith in what he said that day.”

“But you do,” Rook said, and one side of his mouth rose in a crooked smile. “You’re not convinced that he wasn’t serious.”

“There’s a chance he spotted something valuable, but we’re about finished working the whole mine and we haven’t found one thing worth a nickle.”

“You didn’t tell Romeo about this, did you?”

At the mention of Boone Rutledge, Cassie became furious all over again. “I don’t want to talk about him to you. Wasn’t yesterday enough? We both got so mad and acted so foolish that I couldn’t hardly face you today without hiding my face in shame.”

“Such melodrama!” He held the back of one wrist against his forehead in a feigned swoon. “So we had a little fight,” he said, shrugging it off. “Happens to the best of lovers.”

“We’re not lo—!” Cassie clicked her teeth together and waved a finger in his face. He could be so ornery sometimes,
she thought, and so endearing at others. “You love to get my goat, don’t you?”

“Your goat isn’t what I’m after.” He retrieved his shovel and pickax. “Did you tell Romeo about your possible wealth?”

“No, and his name is Boone, as you well know.” She took another swig from the canteen and wiped moisture from her mouth with the back of her hand. “Who’s Romeo anyways?”

“A character in one of Shakespeare’s plays.”