Wolfe shot a sideways glance at Jessica. aTissue paper keeps out the wrinkles.a aWrinkles?a aThe things you take out of clothes with a flatiron.a She blinked. aYou do?a aNo. You do. Ironing is a wifeas duty. So is washing, drying, and folding the clothes.a aWhat is the husband doing all the while the wife is at work?a aGetting things dirty again.a aA truly taxing duty,a she said sardonically.

Wolfeas smile faded. aAny time you want to go back to being Lady Jessica Charteris, complete with maids and footmen to do your bidding, let me know.a aDo hold your breath waiting, my lord. It will make the time so much more pleasanta"for both of us!a

2.

J ESSICA moved sleepily and burrowed closer to the warmth that held the cold dawn at bay.

aFor G.o.das sake,a Wolfe muttered.

The weight of her against his usual morning arousal was altogether too hot. When small hands slid beneath his coat to reach the warmth of his body, his heartbeat speeded. Without waking, she tucked her face against his neck and sighed.

Wolfe closed his eyes, but it didnat help. Nothing could shut out the memory of Jessicaas creamy, pink-tipped b.r.e.a.s.t.s rising from the ruins of her peignoir. Before that moment, he had never permitted himself to think of his redheaded elf as anything but a child.

Now Wolfe could think of little else but the womanly shape of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

He had suffered the torments of the d.a.m.ned every time Jessica dozed off on the endless stage ride. Invariably, the stageas erratic motions would threaten to send her to the floor. Invariably, he caught her, supported her, then finally cradled her across his lap while she slept, her breath tangling softly with his. Invariably, he found himself wanting her with an urgency that infuriated him, for he knew she didnat want him in return.

And even if she had, he would not take her. She was the wrong wife for him. No amount of desire could change that.

Yet the warmth of Jessicaas breath against Wolfeas mouth as he turned his face to her went to his head like wine. The softness of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s begged for his hands to cup and caress them. The sweet weight of her hips against his aroused flesh was a torment he both savored and prayed would end soon.

Jessica murmured and nuzzled against Wolfe sleepily, knowing only that he was warmth and the world was cold. The brush of her lips against his skin sent a painful shaft of need through his body.

aWake up, d.a.m.n it,a Wolfe said beneath his breath. aIam not a feather bed for your ladyshipas convenience.a When Jessica made a protesting sound and clung more tightly, Wolfeas arms pulled her closer despite his better judgment. He searched her face, telling himself it was the gray dawn rather than exhaustion that had drained the radiance from Jessicaas skin and put shadows under her eyes.

But he knew it wasnat simply a trick of the light. Stage travel was hard on grown men. For a young woman who was used to cossetting, travel by stage was an endurance contest she couldnat hope to win.

d.a.m.n it, Jessi. Why wonat you give up and go back where you belong?

Yet even as Wolfe formed the thought, he was smoothing back Jessicaas hair from her face with a gentleness he was helpless to combat. She looked like fine porcelain, defenseless against a world more harshly made than she was.

With no warning, Jessicaas eyes opened and looked full into Wolfeas. Even the dawn couldnat conceal her shock at finding herself held so intimately.

aW-Wolfe?a With more speed than gentleness, Wolfe set Jessica on the bench seat opposite him, yanked his hat down over his eyes, and ignored her. Shortly, he was asleep.

Dazed by her own fitful sleep, stunned by awakening in Wolfeas arms when she had fallen asleep slumped in a hard, drafty corner of the seat, Jessica simply stared at her husband and tried to remember where she was, and why. Finally she opened the side curtain in an effort to orient herself.

Dawn was simply another, lesser shade of darkness spreading across the sky. In all directions, the land was flat, bleak, and featureless but for the icy ruts that marked the stage road. No smoke lifted into the sky, announcing manas presence. No fences marked off pastures. No roads led to distant houses or farms.

At first, the lack of trees and habitation fascinated Jessica, but after a time the unbroken monotony of the landscape numbed her as much as the cold wind pouring through gaps in the side curtains.

Jessica braced herself against the uncomfortable seat and fought to stay upright. Since theyad left St. Joseph, time had been a blur to her. She couldnat remember whether she had been traveling three days or five or fifty-five. Hours and days ran together without anything to separate them, for Wolfe had insisted that they travel constantly, sleeping upright, getting down from the stage only to use the privy when the horses were changed at one of the miserable stations that dotted the long route west.

Other pa.s.sengers came and went at various stops, and ate or slept in the low, rudely built stage stations. Jessica and Wolfe did not. He brought her food to her and they ate inside the stage, where they also slept. At least the past night had been spent in privacy, for no other pa.s.sengers had chosen to endure frigid hours on the stage. But the result of the relentless travel was to make Jessica feel as though she had been born into the jostling, jouncing, pounding stagecoach box and would die in the same place.

She hoped it would be soon.

Wearily, Jessica stretched and rubbed her aching neck. With cold hands, she took down her hair and attempted to brush and braid it into submission. Wolfeas stinging comments about girls who were too useless to comb their own hair had rankled deeply, as did the memory of his laughter when he had found her long braid trapped in the trunk.

By the time Jessica had managed to make two uneven braids and pin them in a coil on her head, the stagecoach began slowing. With a flurry of shouts and curses, the driver pulled the horses to a halt alongside a crude sod building that appeared, at best, uninviting. Despite that, Jessica looked forward to the stop as a break in the punishing ride.

Wolfe woke and stretched. His long, powerful arms and wide shoulders seemed to fill the interior of the stage. The necessity of completing the journey to Denver without spending a night in any of the station houses had eaten into even Wolfeas endurance. At least Jessica a.s.sumed it had. It certainly had shortened his temper to a hairas breadth.

Yet Wolfe showed no sign of discomfort. He climbed down from the stage with the muscular grace that was as much a part of him as his high cheekbones and blue-black eyes. Jessica both admired and resented the resilience of her husbandas body. She felt like a carpet after a spring beating.

Nonetheless, Jessica smiled cheerfully at Wolfe when he glanced her way, for she was determined not to lose her temper with him again. No man wanted to live with a shrew, and to be fair, Wolfe hadnat even had the chance to choose his wife. It was up to Jessica to be unfailingly sweet, gentle, and pleasant to be around. Then Wolfe would be less irritable, less difficult, and more like the wonderful companion of Jessicaas memories.

When Wolfe turned and held out his hand for Jessica, she leaned on his strength in a distinctly unladylike manner as she descended stiffly.

aA lovely morning, is it not?a Jessica asked, smiling into the teeth of a cold wind.

Wolfe grunted.

aI donat know when Iave ever seen so many delicate shades of gray,a she continued cheerfully. aQuite enough to put a dove to shame.a Wolfe shot Jessica a look of disbelief. aIave heard a cold March morning called a lot of things out here. Lovely wasnat one of them.a She sighed. Perhaps Wolfe would feel better after he had the wretched coffee Americans so admired. As far as she was concerned, there wasnat enough sugarcane in the world to sweeten that evil brew.

There was no more conversation while Wolfe strode alongside Jessica to the privyas miserable comforts. When she emerged, clutching her scent-drenched handkerchief, the cold prairie wind cut through her wool cape and dress as though they were sheerest silk. She looked longingly at the smoke streaming from the canted chimney pipe of the stage station.

The thought of being close to a fireas warmth made Jessica shiver with pleasure. Ever since Wolfe had set her so abruptly on the far side of the coach, she had been getting steadily colder. Even worse, the sound of the wind had been gnawing at her nerves, eroding her self-control.

aWolfe, letas eat inside this time.a aNo.a aBut why? Weare the only pa.s.sengers. Surelya"a aSee those horses?a he interrupted curtly.

Jessica looked. There were indeed horses tied on the lee side of the rudimentary barn, which was more a lean-to attached to the station than a true barn.

aThose are saddle horses,a Wolfe said.

She schooled her expression into one of cheerful interest. aWhy so they are. You can tell by the number of legs.a Wolfe started to speak, gave a crack of laughter, and shook his head. How anyone who looked so worn and fragile could be so full of mischief was beyond him. He reached out and gently tugged a wisp of mahogany hair that had unraveled from Jessicaas crown of coiled braids.

aThat means the station is full of men who are waiting for the stage,a Wolfe explained.

aWhy? They have horses, after all.a aThey could be borrowed. In any case, theyave been hard used. A smart man wouldnat set out for a hundred-mile ride on a played-out horse.a Wolfe shrugged. aBut even if the station were empty, I wouldnat let you go inside. This is Cross-Eyed Joeas place.a aDo you know him?a aEveryone between St. Joseph and Denver does. His station is the worst of a sorry lot, and heas the sorriest of all. Heas a crude, blaspheming, drunken son of a b.i.t.c.h whose breath could back down a wolverine.a Jessica blinked. aThen how does he hold his job?a aHe cares for horses the way a mother hen cares for her chicks. Out here, being afoot can be a death sentence. You can forgive Joeas smell when he puts strong, eager horses in the traces.a aWhy would being afoot be so dangerous? Lord Robert never mentioned danger when we were here before.a aLord Robertas anative guidesa fought even better than they tracked game,a Wolfe said dryly. aNo Indians or outlaws were going to take on the kind of trouble twenty well-armed men could offer, no matter how tempting the prize.a Broodingly, Wolfe looked at the unusually well-bred, obviously trail-weary horses tied in the lee of the station. Perhaps those horses belonged to honest men rather than to men whose lives depended on the ability of their horses to outrun the law.

Perhapsabut Wolfe doubted it.

Jessicaas glance followed Wolfeas to the station house, but for a different reason. A week ago she wouldnat have kenneled a dog inside something as disreputable as that sod house, but now it looked like a haven from the bleak landscape. When visiting the prairie with Lord Robertas hunting expeditions, she had thought the place beautiful with its tall gra.s.s and unexpected ponds, its melodious birds and arching blue sky, and its clean, endless vistas.

At the moment, Jessicaas view of the prairie was less charitable. The landscape was in the dying grasp of winter. Mile upon mile upon mile of land lay half-frozen around her. Flat, featureless, treeless, empty of lakes or rivers, inhabited only by the long, low howl of the north wind, the prairie defined desolation; and the sound the wind made was the disbelieving cry of a soul newly d.a.m.ned.

Jessica had heard that sound before in her nightmares. Shuddering, she looked away from the emptiness and knew she had to be out the reach of the wind, if only for a few minutes.

aWolfe, please.a aNo. It isnat a fit place for an English lady.a aIam Scots,a she said automatically.

Wolfe smiled, but there was no humor in his expression. aI know. Scots or English or even French, that place still isnat fit for a lady.a Jessica was very tired of hearing what was and was not fit for a lady, for it seemed those rules always worked against her. On the other hand, losing her temper only caused Wolfe to bait her all the more.

aIam an American wife,a Jessica said, smiling through her teeth, anot a foreign lady.a aThen obey your husband. Iall bring breakfast, if itas fit to eat. I doubt that it will be. The food here has been pa.s.sed up by skunks.a aNothing can be that bad.a aThis is. If youare hungry, weall eat farther up the line. One of the army wives makes egg money supplying the stage stop with baked goods.a The windas eerie cry raked over Jessicaas nerves. She trembled and looked at Wolfe with an unconscious plea in her blue eyes.

aWolfe, just this once, just for a few minutes?a aNo.a Fear and exhaustion shook Jessica. Fiercely, she fought the desire to cry. Her motheras experience had taught Jessica that tears served no purpose except that of announcing weakness, and weakness was invariably attacked.

aGet back to the stage, your ladyship,a Wolfe said curtly. aIall bring you any food thatas fit to eat.a Jessicaas spine straightened as anger swept through her, driving out fatigue and fear for a few blessed moments. aHow kind of you. Tell me, what did you do for entertainment before you had me to torment, pull wings from b.u.t.terflies?a aIf being an American wife instead of an English ladya"a aScots.a aa"is such a torment,a he continued, ignoring her interruption, athen you have only to say the word and youall be free of this rude frontier life.a ab.a.s.t.a.r.d.a aWithout doubt, but the word I had in mind was annulment.a The wind moaned with a chill promise of d.a.m.nation that made nightmares awaken inside Jessica. When the stagecoach was moving, there was at least the endless rattle and clatter of the wheels to dull the voice of the wind. But now the stage was motionless and the traces empty while the horses were switched. Now the stage shifted and shivered beneath the cruel force of the wind.

Jessica knew if she sat in that fragile sh.e.l.l and heard the wind screaming, she would start screaming, too. Yet she didnat dare show such weakness to Wolfe. If he understood how much she feared the wind, he would use it against her, driving her back to England and a marriage with the likes of Lord Gore.

Then her nightmares would be real, rather than remaining black dreams she never quite remembered upon awakening.

Without a word, Jessica picked up her skirts and walked past Wolfe, who was staring at the weary saddle horses. As he had feared, some of them bore the marks of horses used by the South in the recent war. More than one band of outlaws had begun in the embittered rabble of a lost cause. Some had come from the North as well, men who had gotten a taste for looting and killing that hadnat gone away when the war ended.

Wish to h.e.l.l Caleb or Reno was here, Wolfe thought grimly. I could use a good man at my back right now.

A motion at the edge of Wolfeas vision caught his eye. It was Jessicaas long skirts being whipped by the wind. She was headed for the station building rather than the empty stage.

aJessi!a She didnat even look back.

Wolfe began running, but it was the stage he headed for, not Jessica. He knew he had no chance of reaching her before she got to the station house. He yanked open the stagecoachas door and leaped inside with the agility of a cat. The leather presentation case that held the matched rifle and carbine was on the seat.

Just as Jessica closed the station house door behind her, she looked back, expecting Wolfe to be on her heels. When she saw that he wasnat, she let out a sigh of relief. The sigh turned to a soundless gasp when she turned to face the occupants of the room.

Wolfe had been right. This wasnat a place for a lady.

It wasnat the roomas dim, smoky interior, its filth, or its feral smell that put the place off limits for a lady. It was the intent masculine eyes measuring her the way a merchant measured gold dust, one soft bit at a time.

A man who had been sitting apart from the others stood up from the uneven table and swept off his battered hat.

aSomething you need, maaam?a he asked unhappily.

Even in the bad light Jessica recognized the stagecoach driveras long, bushy mustache. She smiled at him with relief, not realizing how beautiful her smile might be to men who hadnat seen a white woman for months, much less one wearing a dress that had been sewn by expert seamstresses to fit her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and waist like a soft blue shadow. Even wrinkled and mussed from long travel, she was like an exotic flower blooming in the midst of winter.

aI was chilled,a Jessica said softly. aI saw the smoke.a aCome on in,a one of the other men said, standing. He gestured toward the bench where he had been sitting. aAll warmed up and ready to ride, like me.a Several of the men snickered.

The man who had spoken should have been handsome. He was tall and well-proportioned, with even teeth and regular features. His clothes were frayed but well-made. He wore a heavy split riding coat. He was the only man who was cleanshaven. His posture was as proud as any gentlemanas.

Yet there was something in the young man that made Jessica profoundly uneasy. His eyes were like the winda"colorless, empty, and cold. He was watching her with a reptilian intensity that made the skin on her arms ripple in a primitive comprehension of danger. She longed to be back in the stagecoach with Wolfe at her side.

Jessica would have turned and fled, but she sensed with great certainty that showing weakness to this man would have the effect of dangling wounded prey in front of a pack of starving hounds.

aMy nameas Raleigh,a the young man said, tipping his hat in a gesture that was more familiar than polite, abut pretty gals mostly call me Lee.a aThank you, Mr. Raleigh,a Jessica said with clipped formality, abut itas not necessary for you to give up your seat. Just being in out of the wind is enough for me.a aNonsense,a he said, coming toward Jessica. aCome over here where itas warm.a He kicked one of the menas feet on the way by. aSteamer, get off your b.u.t.t and get the pretty English miss some grub.a aScots,a she said softly, forcing herself to be calm when every nerve in her body screamed for her to flee.

aWhat?a aIam Scots.a Raleigh smiled thinly as he reached for Jessicaas arm. aWhatever you say, la.s.sie. Now get your pretty self over here and tell me what a girl like you is doing in Cross-Eyed Joeas place.a The door behind Jessica opened, letting in a cold blast of wind.

Wolfe stepped inside. He looked out of place in his city clothes. In the muted light, the silver and gold inlay on the carbine shimmered like water. The effect was like that of a snakeas scales, a warning rather than a lure.

aMorning, boys,a Wolfe said.

A few surprised grunts and sidelong looks answered him. The accent and rhythm of Wolfeas speech, unlike his clothes, were Western.

With a leisurely glance that was just short of insulting, Wolfe summed up the room. Though his eyes didnat linger, each of the seven men had the feeling he had been marked for future reference. Only Raleigh didnat seem to notice the danger in Wolfeas bleak eyes.

aThereas a mean wind blowing,a Wolfe said casually.

Muttered agreement rippled through the room.

Raleigh dropped his hand to his side and stood relaxed and easy, watching Wolfe. Jessica saw that Raleighas riding coat had come open. The right side was pushed out of the way behind the six-gun that he wore on his hip.

aWell, well, take a look at that,a Raleigh said, whistling between his teeth. aThatas some fancy carbine, suh. Never seen its equal.a He held out his hand, confident the well-dressed city man wouldnat refuse him. aMind if I try its balance?a aYes.a For a moment, Wolfeas refusal didnat register. When it did, a thin flush appeared on Raleighas cheekbones.

aYouare not very friendly, suh. Some would even say youare insulting.a Wolfe smiled.

Raleighas body became less relaxed.

aJust trying to save you some grief,a Wolfe said. aThe triggeras real touchy. Been known to go off for no better reason than being handed from one man to another. That would be a crying shame, too. Handsome young boy like you would surely leave broken hearts all up and down the trail. Be more weeping and wailing over your grave than when Lee turned over his sword at Appomattox.a Raleigh stiffened. aAre you insulting the South?a aNo, but you are. Any man wearing a lieutenantas bars on his coat should have better manners than to grab for a ladyas arm.a Without looking away from Raleighas angry face, Wolfe said, aTom, help Cross-Eyed Joe get that fresh team in the traces.a aYessir,a the driver said.

He jammed on his hat and hurried out the door, careful not to get between Wolfe and the young man who had fought on the losing side of the War Between the States. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Raleighas hand began easing toward the b.u.t.t of his six-gun.

Jessicaas breath came in with a rush.

aI see him,a Wolfe said before she could speak. He smiled at Raleigh again. aDonat let all the gold and silver fool you, boy. Repeating weapons like this one shot Southern regiments to red ribbons. If you donat believe me, go ahead and reach for that belt gun. Iall have three bullets in you before you know what happened, and Iall still have ten more left for your friends.a Behind Raleigh, the men began edging for opposite ends of the table.

aIall shoot the next man who moves,a Wolfe said.

No one doubted him. They sat very still.

Jessica forgot to breathe as the silence stretched and stretched, plucking at her nerves more savagely than the wind. Then the young man laughed and relaxed again.

aNo point getting riled,a Raleigh said easily. aI was just having some fun to pa.s.s the time waiting for the stage.a aGoing east?a Wolfe asked.

aWest.a aNext stage west will be along tomorrow about this time.a aTomorrow?a Raleigh said, startled. aWhat about the one today?a aItas full.a aBut only you and the girla"a aMy wife,a Wolfe interrupted flatly.

aYouare the only ones on the d.a.m.ned stage!a aLike I said. Itas full.a Raleighas body tightened again.

aItall keep, Raleigh,a said one of the other men coldly. aIf the gent with the fancy rifle wants to fight the Indians up ahead all by himself, let him. One less Yankee b.a.s.t.a.r.d wonat bother me none. Iave got better game to hunt.a Raleigh glanced unhappily at the man who had spoken, but didnat argue.

aYour friend gave you excellent advice,a Wolfe said to Raleigh. aHereas some morea"stay inside until the stage leaves.a Jessica didnat wait for Wolfe to open the door for her. She didnat want him to have to turn his back on the men in the room. Without a word, she opened the door and hurried across the cold yard to the stage. Not until she was inside did she begin to relax.

Wolfe didnat. Inside the stagecoach, he kept the carbine across his lap and watched the station with predatory attention. No one came out.

Suddenly the driveras whip cracked like a pistol shot, the horses jerked forward in the traces, and the stage left the station as though the wheels were on fire.

aWill they follow us?a Jessica asked tightly.

aI doubt it. Their horses are played out.a Wolfe looked from the window to the wife he hadnat asked for, the young woman who set his body on fire, the delicate aristocrat who was utterly unsuited for the Western land he loved as he had never loved anything in his life. aYouare going to get somebody killed, your ladyship. You donat belong out here.a aNeither do you.a aThe h.e.l.l I donat.a aThose men took one look at you and knew you for a stranger.a Wolfe smiled. aNo one west of the Mississippi has ever seen me dressed like this, but I was d.a.m.ned if Iad look like your ladyshipas roustabout. Just as well. Jericho Slater was in that bunch at the stage station. If he had recognized me, there would have been h.e.l.l to pay.a aWho is Jericho Slater?a aOne of the few surviving members of Jed Slateras gang.a aWhy does he hate you?a aCaleb, Reno, and I did our best to kill every one of them.a Wolfe smiled thinly. ad.a.m.n near did. My only regret is that Jericho wasnat with them at the time. Heas as bad as Jed ever was.a Jessica frowned. aWhy were you fighting a gang of men?a aSlater made the mistake of grabbing Willow.a The change in Wolfeas voice and face when he spoke Willowas name made Jessicaas breath lock in her throat. Suddenly, she had no doubt that Willow was a woman.

aWho is she?a Jessicaas stark question made Wolfe glance over at her.

aA woman.a aI gathered as much.a aA Western woman.a aJust what does that mean?a Jessica asked tightly.

aA woman strong enough to fight beside her man if it comes to that, and soft enough to set him on fire when the fighting is over. Thatas one h.e.l.l of a woman.a Jessica forced herself to keep talking, to find out more about the woman who could make Wolfeas eyes and voice gentle when he spoke about her.