Something terrible.

A chill touched Wolfeas spine as he realized how deep Jessicaas fear must have been during the attack. Despite his vow to wear her down until she agreed to an annulment, he couldnat help but ease her closer to his body, cradling her, protecting her because at that moment she was too defenseless to protect herself.

aJessi,a Wolfe said very softly against her ear, alet me go. Donat make me hurt you any more.a Although he was certain she heard, she didnat answer him in any way.

aIs that what you want?a he asked roughly. aNo quarter asked and none given?a Jessica neither moved nor spoke. It was as though nothing had been said between them.

aSo be it,a Wolfe said, his voice bleak. aNo quarter asked and none given.a

4.

T HE Rocky Mountains rose steeply beyond Wolfeas home. Their icy peaks were swathed in clouds, their broad shoulders streaked by the changing season, and their feet firmly rooted in the plains Jessica had learned to love while on safari with Lord Stewart. She had never been to Wolfeas home, for Lord Stewart had preferred to hunt in Wyoming Territory. Even so, she hadnat expected Wolfeas house to be large, for she knew that most Americans couldnat afford such splendor as Lord Stewartas country mansions.

However, Jessica hadnat understood what living in a small house meant in terms of day-to-day intimacy. Wolfe had. He had been antic.i.p.ating her dismay with real pleasure, a.s.suming that it would bring him a quick victory in the battle for annulment.

aYour house is quite handsome, butaa Jessicaas voice died.

aYes?a Wolfe prompted, knowing very well what was bothering Jessica.

aThere is only one bedroom.a His black eyebrows lifted in silent, sardonic amus.e.m.e.nt. aAre you certain?a aQuite,a Jessica said, slipping back into the clipped accents she had worked so hard to shed. aAnd there is only one bed in that room.a He nodded.

Smiling, forcing her voice to be teasing, Jessica asked, aAre you going to make your bed in the willows with the birds?a aWhy would I do that? The bed is large enough for two.a aWolfe, Iam serious.a aSo am I. Iam not an aristocrat, your ladyship. Iam an unt.i.tled b.a.s.t.a.r.d. In America we have a quaint custom among the lower cla.s.sesa"husbands and wives share the same bed.a Jessicaas heart began to beat frantically. She clasped her hands together to hide their trembling and smiled coaxingly.

aSurely youare joking.a He laughed and said distinctly, aNo, I am not.a aYou must be,a Jessica said, her voice light despite the pleading in her eyes. aNo woman would suffer a man every night.a aNo aristocrat, surely,a Wolfe retorted. aBut a Western woman would. Ask Willow Black. She and Caleb share the same bed night after night after night, and both of them spend their days looking like theyave swallowed the sun.a The naked longing in Wolfeas voice irritated Jessica so much that she forgot her fear of sharing not only a bedroom with Wolfe, but a bed as well.

aWillow again,a Jessica said, concealing her annoyance beneath a sigh. aWhat a paragon she must be.a aYes.a aWhere do Western women who arenat paragons sleep?a Jessica asked mildly. aIn the stable?a aOnly if they donat spook the horses.a aNo stable for me, then.a She took off her hat and shook down her half-unraveled braids. aThe horses will take one look at my hair and think the hay is on fire.a Unwillingly, Wolfeas expression softened. In the days since the attack on the stagecoach, it had become nearly impossible to be with Jessica and not enjoy her company. She had been unfailingly cheerful, agreeable, charming, and witty. With one exception, she had enlivened the long stage ride for everyone.

The exception was the powerful blond stranger who had given them only one name: Rafe.

Wolfe and Rafe had tacitly realized they would tangle if they both stayed caged up with a laughing young woman dancing between them. Without a word spoken on the subject, Rafe had spent the remainder of the ride with the driver. At the second stage stop, Rafe had bought a horse and saddle from a homesick Easterner and ridden off toward the setting sun after expressing his appreciation of Jessicaas nursing once again.

Rafe had been much too appreciative of Jessica, as far as Wolfe was concerned. Watching Jessicaas glance follow the soft-spoken Rafe until he vanished into the incandescent eye of the sun had rankled Wolfe deeply. He couldnat help wondering if Jessica would have stared at Rafe in fright as she had at Wolfe when she awakened on the stage and found herself in his arms.

aYou may sleep in my bed like a Western wife or you may sleep on the living room hearth like a favorite hound,a Wolfe said coldly. aItas your choice, just as the marriage was your choice.a Jessica forced herself to smile. aThatas very generous of you. I know how well you like hounds.a Wolfeas indigo eyes narrowed, but before he could say anything, Jessica turned away and looked at his bedroom once more. At first she didnat really see it, but gradually the lines and colors beguiled her as they had at first glance. The room was like Wolfe himself, elegant and very masculine at the same time. It was the elegance of a falcon or a cougar, a matter of balance and strength rather than delicacy.

Like the exterior of the house itself, the roomas walls were composed of peeled logs. The inner face of the logs had been sanded to smoothness and polished to a fine l.u.s.ter, giving a warm, subtly rich feel to the room. Although the furniture had been made by a man who loved the grain and flow of wood, the stark simplicity of the design was almost startling to eyes accustomed to European luxury.

Yet the lines of bed and dresser, table and chair drew Jessicaas eyes again and again, pleasing her in the same way that patterns of geese flying against an autumn sky pleased her. The beautifully colored blankets and the pale, luminous fur throw that had been folded at the foot of the bed were as rich as anything owned by a duke. A sunburst of clear crystals had been placed like a bouquet on the bedside table, but unlike a bouquet, the crystals would never fade and die.

aYou have a fine sense of texture and proportion,a Jessica said slowly. aThe room is quite beautiful. The furniture isaextraordinary.a aSarcasm, Lady Jessica?a Wolfe retorted, looking around his bedroom.

She stared at him, startled by the bite in his voice. Before she could speak, he did.

aThe furniture was made by a backsliding Shaker in exchange for room and board over a long winter. The blankets are standard trade goods from the Hudson Bay company. So are the furs.a aIf I intend sarcasm,a Jessica said tartly, ayou wonat have to inquire. Youall know.a aWill I? Then tell me what you see in this room to please a gently raised ladyas eye.a aMany things,a Jessica said, accepting the unspoken challenge. aThe lines of the furniture are simple to the point of starkness, which emphasizes the appealing warmth of the fire, the rich colors of the blankets, and the inviting texture of the fur. The fireplace is quite clever, for it opens into two rooms at once. And is that a hipbath behind the screen?a aYes.a aItas quite large.a aSo am I.a Wolfe watched as Jessica ran her fingertips over the straight back of a nearby chair.

aYou have everything you need for comfort, and you have beauty as well,a she said quietly. aWhoever made this was a fine craftsman who loved wood. See how the grain of the wood both matches and repeats the lines of the chair?a Wolfe saw more than that. He also saw the latent sensuality in Jessica, the sheer physical pleasure she took from the feel of the smooth wood beneath her fingertips.

aAnd the fur,a she added, walking over to the foot of the bed, ais magnificent.a aIt comes from Arctic foxes. They live at the foot of glaciers whose creva.s.ses are the exact blue of your eyes.a aIs it a beautiful color?a she asked softly.

aYou know it is.a aIt never seemed so to me.a Jessicaas fingers speared through the thick white fur, seeking and finding its softest textures. The sound of pleasure she made as she stroked the fur brought every one of Wolfeas hungry senses to alert. The thought of those slender fingers tangling in his own hair sent a shaft of desire through his body. He turned away abruptly.

aIall bring your trunks in here. No matter where you decide to sleep, youall use this as your dressing room.a Jessica looked up curiously, caught by the husky note in Wolfeas voice.

aWhile I finish unloading the wagon,a Wolfe continued, ayou start fixing a cold supper and some hot coffee. The supplies are in the burlap sacks. You might as well put everything away. Then youall know where everything is when you need it for cooking.a aWolfe,a Jessica said quickly.

He turned around.

She started to explain that she didnat know the first thing about fixing suppers, whether cold or hot. The aura of expectancy in his stance told her that he was waiting for just such an invitation to bait her again on her inadequacy as an American wife. She wasnat certain her temper was up to that at the moment.

The long, uncomfortable wagon ride from the stage terminus in Denver had tried Jessicaas resilience and resolve to their limits. She was stiff, cold, bruised, and more exhausted than she had ever been in her life.

But she was expected to cheerfully conjure a meal for that most demanding of all creatures, a Western husband.

aYes?a Wolfe asked in a silky voice.

aI was just, er, wondering where to put my clothes.a aAs I didnat know I was going to acquire a wife in England, I didnat buy any dressers or armoires for your clothes.a His smile was a thin white curve against the darkness of his face. aNot that it matters. You wonat be here long enough to repay the trouble of unpacking even one trunk.a aOh? Does that mean weare leaving on another trip right away?a Jessica asked in an artificially bright voice.

aWe arenat. You are. Back to London.a aAh, that trip. Well, you know how foolish it is to count unhatched chicks. I feel the same could be said of unhatched trips.a Wolfe looked at Jessicaas bright smile and felt his temper fraying. If she had sulked or complained, he could have berated her, but her inexhaustible well of cheerfulness made that impossible.

She knew it as well as he did. Better, perhaps.

aThe kitchen, your ladyship, is through that door.a aWhy, so it is.a She gathered the skirts of her ruined travel outfit in her hands and eased through the doorway that was filled by her unwilling husband.

aIall expect supper within the hour,a Wolfe said as yards of soft wool brushed over his thighs, tightening every muscle in his body. aIall expect the coffee a h.e.l.l of a lot sooner.a aIam sure you will,a Jessica agreed.

But she wasnat sure Wolfe would get it.

The kitchen had a brick floor, cupboards everywhere, a pump, a sink, and a big stove. The small table in one corner obviously had been made by the Shaker craftsman who had furnished the bedroom. Sacks of supplies were lined up the length of the floor.

Now that Wolfe was no longer present to measure Jessicaas mood, her smile vanished as thoroughly as though it had never existed. In the place of her determined cheer was a physical fatigue that made even standing upright an ordeal. Mentally, she was no more resilient.

Nor was there any relief in sight. No matter how hard she tried to coax some simple human warmth from Wolfe, since the Indian attack he had remained abrupt, difficult, cold, and impossible to please. If that wasnat bad enough, the wind seemed to moan without pause over the land. When she was alone, she heard the wind with terrible clarity.

She was always alone now, and never more so than when Wolfe was nearby. Automatically, her hand went to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Beneath her clothes, the locket lay concealed among soft folds of lace. The familiar contours of the necklace rea.s.sured her.

aWell,a Jessica said, forcing cheerfulness into her voice, for anything was better than the unborn horror keening within the wind. aWhere do you suppose Wolfe has hidden his coffeepot? And what do you suppose it will look like when I find it?a The low ululation of the wind was more answer than Jessica wanted to hear. Hurriedly, she fumbled for the matches and lighted a lantern, for Wolfe had shuttered the windows before he left for London. She had watched various servants light various lamps all her life, but it took several tries for her to get the right combination of match, wick, and oil. The lamp smoked annoyingly, but it was better than nothing.

The wind raked over the roof and made the cap on the stovepipe rattle like distant chains, reminding Jessica of her childhood in Scotland, when she had hidden in the kitchen with the scullery maids because she could no longer bear the sounds coming from her fatheras suite of rooms. It had been a very long time since Jessica had thought of such things. She didnat wish to begin now.

Humming to shut out both the wind and her darkly stirring memories, Jessica set to work. The air she hummed was one of her favorites, aBonnie Laddie, Highland Laddie.a The words had always stuck her as over-simple, but the melody had a fine lilt that lifted her spirits. The more fiercely the wind blew, the more loudly Jessica sang her lively, wordless song, opening and closing cupboards as she searched for the coffeepot.

After opening every cupboard, peering in, and holding the smoky lamp aloft, Jessica still hadnat found anything that resembled the graceful sterling silver urns Lord Robertas servants had taken coffee from. Nor did she find anything like the small, plump sterling silver pots or tissue-thin china that had been used for service in the bedroom.

aBlazes,a she muttered.

Jessica began the search and the song all over again. Halfway through the cupboard, she sensed that she was no longer alone in the room. She spun around.

Wolfe was leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed over his chest and an odd expression on his face.

aThat songaa he said.

aaBonnie Laddie, Highland Laddiea. Itas a rather silly air about a Scotsman wearing a cap.a Wolfe cleared his throat and tried not to reveal the laughter that was shaking him. aOf course. Itas been so long since I heard the original words, Iad forgotten.a He made a strangled sound and looked away from a moment.

aAre you well, Wolfe?a Silently, Wolfe struggled not to smile.

aI know my voice isnat of stage quality,a Jessica said, smiling wryly, abut no one has ever laughed at it before. However, if it amuses you so, Iall sing more often.a aI doubt the verses you know would be as amusing as the ones I know.a Wolfe watched Jessica tilt her head and look at him with wide aquamarine eyes. aYou look like a cat when you watch me with such stillness.a The intensity of Wolfeas eyes made Jessicaas breath catch in her throat. An odd sensation trembled in the pit of her stomach, as though he were stroking her hair. But he wasnat touching her. He was simply watching her.

With an effort, she forced herself to speak. aWhat verses do you know that I donat?a aMany.a aWonderful. Teach me and weall sing together.a Wolfe compressed his lips against the smile that threatened to overwhelm his efforts at self-control. aThe verses I know would horrify you.a aWhy?a aThey deal with Adamas staff, among other things,a Wolfe said blandly.

Jessica looked blank. aWhy would talk of Adamas staff horrify me?a aItas also celebrated as a flea shooter, a hoe, a fishing rod, a drummeras stick, a Roman candle, a branding iron, a dagger, a sword, a dowsing rod, a ramrod, a pistol and, lately, a repeating rifle.a Wolfeas voice vibrated with suppressed laughter. aThere are other names as well. Many names. And for each one, a verse to the tune you were singing.a Jessica frowned. aA tool for many purposes, is that it?a Wolfe gave up the fight, tipped back his head, and laughed without restraint.

The rich, masculine sounds made Jessica feel as though she was standing close to a fire. Some of the tension seeped slowly from her. The feeling of relief was almost dizzying, telling her how much she had feared that she would never be able to make her husband smile again.

aAs you say,a Wolfe managed finally, aan allpurpose tool. Fortunately, Eve was equally well endowed.a Jessica blinked. aI beg your pardon?a aAdamas staff had its complement in Eve.a aI donat understand.a aEve had a fertile field for Adam to till,a Wolfe said gravely, aa shadowed pool for him to fish, a deep well to be discovered by his dowsing rod, a supple sheath for his knife or sword to lie withinaah, the sunrise of understanding shines pinkly on your face.a Blushing, Jessica covered her mouth with her hands, but couldnat prevent the sound of her giggles from escaping. Her laughter was contagious, setting off Wolfe again. Soon Jessica was laughing so hard she had to hang onto the cupboard door or fall.

Wolfe was little better off. It had been years since he had teased Jessica until they were both weak with laughter. He hadnat known how much life had lacked until this moment.

aIave missed you,a he admitted before he could think better of it.

aNot as much as I missed you.a aDid you?a aOh, yes,a she said, blotting tears of laughter from her eyes. aWhen youare with me, I never hear the wind.a aWhat an odd reason to miss someone.a aElves are odd creatures.a Wolfe looked at the row of open cupboard doors. aYes, they are. Why were you going through the cupboards, elf?a aI was looking for your coffeepot.a aItas on the stove.a Jessica straightened and stared at the pot-bellied stove. She saw nothing but a battered container that looked like a tall, rather narrow pot. It was wider at the bottom than the top and had a slight flare on the rim. A wire handle stood upright above the lid.

aA coffeepot on the stove,a she said neutrally.

aUmm.a The sound Wolfe made was rather like that of a very large, contented cat. Jessica glanced at him from beneath thick auburn lashes.

aHow does this coffeepot work?a aQuite simply. You fill the pot with water, put it on the stove to boil, add coffee grounds, boil for a time, and then add cold water to settle the grounds.a aAh,a she breathed, brightening. aSimple indeed.a Jessica went to the stove, took the lid off the pot, and looked around for a pitcher of water. There was none.

aWater comes from pumps,a Wolfe said. aYou do know what a pump looks like, donat you?a aYouare teasing me.a aIam not sure. Elves are unpredictable creatures. Itas difficult to be certain what they know.a Jessica hadnat ever used a pump, but she certainly had seen one used. She went to the sink, set the pot down beneath the pumpas spout, and picked up the long iron pump handle. She had to go up on her tiptoes to lift the handle to its fullest.

aWait.a Jessica froze, teetered, and began to lose her balance. Before she could topple and accidently bring the pump handle down, Wolfe rushed forward and s.n.a.t.c.hed her off her feet. She made a startled sound.

aYou forgot something,a he said calmly.

She looked into midnight blue eyes that were intriguingly close to her own, for Wolfe had lifted her until her head was on a level with his.

aWhat did I forget?a aYou didnat prime the pump.a The blank look Jessica gave Wolfe told him that she didnat know what he was talking about. He started to set her down, but her small, warm waist felt too good between his hands to let go of just yet.

aSee that pitcher of water next to the pump?a Wolfe asked.

The deepening of his voice ruffled Jessicaas nerves in a way she liked without knowing why. She nodded. He shifted her suddenly, turning her away from him. The breathless sound she made was lost in his words.

aPick up the pitcher, elf.a She leaned across the counter, and in doing so, pressed her bottom into the cradle of Wolfeas thighs. He closed his eyes and told himself to put her down. Instead, his hands tightened around her, savoring the supple warmth of her against the ache of male hunger and need that had concentrated between his thighs.

aNow pour the water into the opening at the top of the pump,a he said a low voice.

The motions Jessica made pressed her more intimately against Wolfeas hungry flesh. Water splashed and danced, shimmering in the lantern light. Belatedly, Wolfe remembered what he was supposed to be doing. He shifted Jessica again, holding her against his body with one arm while the other worked the handle of the pump. Soon water gushed out of the pumpas spout and into the coffeepot until it overflowed.

aThat,a Wolfe said, letting Jessica slide down his body until her feet touched the floor, ais called priming a pump.a Ruefully, he acknowledged that the pump wasnat the only thing that had been primed during the lesson, but he could hardly blame Jessica for that. She hadnat known what she was doing when she pressed her backside against his groin until he could feel the very feminine flare of her hips beneath all the folds of cloth in her traveling dress.

aWhy did you do that?a she asked.

For an instant, Wolfe thought Jessica was referring to the change that had taken place in his body while he held her; then he realized she was talking about the pump. He opened his mouth to answer, but the thought of explaining to a wide-eyed elf the intricacies of suction, pressure, and pumping involved in the mechanisma"while at the same time his body was on firea"defeated Wolfe.

aThink of it as a religious ritual,a he said finally.

Jessica tilted her head back to look up at him and realized anew just how large her husband was. Yet being held by him hadnat frightened her or made her uneasy in any way. In fact, it had been very nice, as had seeing his eyes so close to hers and feeling the warmth of his breath on her cheek. The hard strength of his arm supporting her had been even more appealing, as had been the power and motion of his body as he worked the pump. Soft sensations shimmered through her at the thought of being held that way again.

aA religious ritual,a Jessica repeated in a dazed voice.

aI must have unpacked the parrot along with your sidesaddle.a Laughing softly, Jessica shook her head. aPriming the pump is a religious ritual, and you unpacked the parrot with my sidesaddle. Oh, Wolfe, do you think our wits were addled by the long trip?a aVery likely.a For a moment she looked into the dear indigo depths of his eyes. The delicate shimmering sensation in the pit of her stomach strengthened.

aYou do the most curious things to my stomach,a Jessica said in a husky voice.

aNausea, loss of appet.i.te?a Wolfe guessed wryly.

aFar from it. You make me feel as though Iave swallowed golden b.u.t.terflies.a The innocent admission forced Wolfe to close his eyes, for if he kept looking at Jessica he would reach out and trace the delicate curves of her upper lip with his fingers first and then the tip of his tongue. It had been difficult enough to keep his hands off her; it would be impossible if she kept watching him with wondering, luminous eyes and talked of the first, delicate tremors of pa.s.sion awakening within her untouched body.

Desire beat in harsh waves through Wolfe, but he remained motionless. He didnat trust himself to touch Jessica. If she responded to an outright caress with the laughter and honesty she had just shown, he wouldnat stop caressing her until he was sheathed within her.

Then the marriage would be all too real. She would be bound for life to a halfbreed mustang hunter, and he would be bound for life to a girl who was afraid of being a woman.

aI think,a Wolfe said distinctly, opening his eyes, aitas time to get on with teaching you how to make coffee. Thereas too much water in the coffeepot. Pour the extra into the priming pitcher. And next time, fill the pitcher first.a aWhy?a aBecause if itas dry when you go to pump the next time, you have to walk to the spring for water before you can get any water from the pump.a aI must pour water in the pump before I can pump water out.a Jessica shook her head. aThat hardly makes sense.a aMost rituals donat.a aWhat if I pump without adding water first?a aThe mechanism wasnat made to work dry. Youall ruin it.a aAnd your temper, too?a Jessica guessed.

aCount on it. Renoas, too. He helped me put in the pump.a aIs he a neighbor?a aNo,a Wolfe said. aHe hunts for Spanish treasure in the desert when heas not staying with Willow in the San Juans.a aTruly? What does Caleb think of that?a aHe approves.a aThatas quite, er, exceptional of him.a aReno is Willowas brother.a Jessica blinked and muttered beneath her breath, aDaunting prospect, being brother to a paragon.a Wolfe handed Jessica the coffeepot and gestured toward the stove. When she set the pot down, water sloshed onto the black surface of the stove. The cast iron was cold. After fumbling for a bit with the stove door, she managed to open it and peer inside. Kindling was laid out in orderly array.

aLooking for these?a Wolfe asked.

Jessica straightened. He was holding out a cup full of matches he had taken from a shelf near the stove.

aYou do know which end to sc.r.a.pe against the iron, donat you?a he asked dryly.

aThe lamp didnat light itself,a she pointed out.

Wolfe glanced at the lamp smoking happily on the counter. aSo I see. Were you planning on smoking fish over the chimney?a aDonat be silly. Even I know the difference between a lantern and a fish smoker.a Jessica sc.r.a.ped a match over the stovetop. It broke. She took another matchstick from the tin cup.

aBesides, Iam not to blame for the smoke,a she muttered, taking another swipe at the stovetop. aI did nothing but light the lamp.a The match didnat catch. She pressed harder and tried again. No flame jumped to the tip. aIt must be the oil you use thatas causing the smoke.a aNo, itas the wick you used. Itas the wrong length,a Wolfe explained. aIf you trim it correctly, the lamp wonat smoke.a aThen by all means, trim the wick,a she retorted.

Jessica dragged the match over the stove yet again. The head of the match caught and broke off at the same time, sending a shower of burning sulphur tumbling down her skirt.

aBlast!a she said under her breath as she shook off the sparks.