Authors: Jo Goodman
Stunned, Jay Mac could not keep himself from staring out over the valley. He heard Rennie's approach on foot but did not turn. "I had planned to come out this way to see the progress of the line myself," he said.
"I didn't know that," Rennie said.
Jay Mac shrugged. "I didn't tell you on purpose. I wanted to see the lay of this country firsthand, learn for myself if you were right about the valley flooding."
"I thought you didn't believe me about it."
"I believed
you
believed it." He slipped his arm through hers as she came to stand beside him. "You've never understood how I had to do things back in New York. I had people who've been working for me for years, a score of years in some cases, telling me in no uncertain terms that your conclusions were the wrong ones. I approved the Queen's Point project on their recommendations, Rennie, because that's the way things had to be. They had already proved themselves to me. But you're my daughter, and as much as I trust those men, I love you more. I came here because of you, because I had to prove privately that my daughter's judgments were also sound."
His admission took Rennie's breath away. She closed her eyes briefly, prayerfully. "Thank you for that," she said.
Jarret looked on as father and daughter made their quiet peace. He sidled Zilly closer. "I think you can see the valley's ripe for flooding," he said. "When the winter snows melt only a dam could make a difference. No one's going to put one of those here. The project that Rennie proposed would bring the tracks up from the other side of the mountain. There's more work involved, more expense at the outset, but you can see for yourself it won't be a waste of time or money."
Jay Mac nodded. "There's already been incredible waste of both those resources."
"But the project's not yet started," Rennie said. "You haven't—"
Jarret interrupted. "I think what your father's trying to say, Rennie, is that he's already approved payments for materials that aren't here and wages for men who were never hired. Is that right, Jay Mac?"
"In a nutshell."
"You didn't tell Rennie you were coming here as part of your other business, but did you tell anyone at Northeast?"
Jay Mac shook his head. "No. I didn't want Hollis and the others to think I was checking up on them, or worse, questioning their judgment after approving the project. I knew there wouldn't have been a lot of work done yet, and there'd be no problem routing the rails the way Rennie wanted. At the very worst I only expected to show them they could make mistakes as easily as the next person. They would have had to give more weight to Rennie's ideas in the future. I sure as hell wasn't expecting this."
Neither was Jarret. He was so certain Jay Mac must have spoken to someone about his plans. "So no one knew you meant to come to Queen's Point."
Jay Mac looked over his shoulder at Jarret. "No one at Northeast," he said. "But I mentioned it to my wife."
"Moira wouldn't—" Jarret began.
"My
wife,"
Jay Mac said pointedly. "Nina."
Rennie felt all the warmth rush out of her body. Her knees grew weak, and her skin was as white and as cold as the snow around her. She sagged against her father, and when he couldn't support her they both stumbled. Jarret leaped down from his horse and hauled them both up the slope to safer, more even ground.
Jay Mac had his cane to lean on; Rennie leaned on Jarret. "What's wrong?" he asked. "For a moment it looked like you were going to faint."
Rennie pushed a strand of hair away from her cold cheek. She was aware of Jarret's steady regard as well as her father's. "I'm just a little dizzy," she said. "It was nothing. The height, that's all." They both knew her, both loved her, and Rennie wondered if she had convinced either of the lie. She kept her head low so that they couldn't see her face and suspect the depth of despair she felt. Her father had wanted her to tell Jarret the truth. It seemed to Rennie the time was nearly upon her.
Jarret helped Rennie mount Albion when she assured him she was recovered. "If there's no business either of you have in Queen's Point, we'll start back to Echo Falls. Jay Mac can send a telegram to Denver and New York from there."
Jay Mac nodded. "It's about time I let a few other people know I'm alive." The way he said it, almost threateningly, let Jarret and Rennie know he wasn't only speaking of his family.
"Please, Jay Mac," Rennie said imploringly, "don't send any message until we've talked about it. Please. I'm thinking of Mama. We should make certain someone's with her when she hears of it."
Jarret raised the brim of his hat and looked at Rennie consideringly. There was a measure of desperation in her voice that struck him oddly. He caught her eyes, but she turned away immediately, not able to give him a hint about what was troubling her.
The remainder of the journey to Echo Falls passed largely in silence. When there was discussion it never dwelled on the revelations at Queen's Point. Rennie avoided being alone with Jarret and, to an equal degree, avoided being alone with her father. She stayed to herself, following at a distance on the trail, or worked at solitary tasks so that she didn't have to strike up conversation.
They reached Echo Falls at night. By mutual agreement they had chosen to travel after sunset so that they could look forward to some simple creature comforts that evening. Jay Mac was exhausted, his legs like leaden weights. Jarret had to help him dismount in front of Mrs. Shepard's Boardinghouse. The widow was happy to make a room for him, though she was less cordial to Rennie. Jarret's quiet insistence helped.
Rennie stayed with her father until he was comfortably settled before she went to her own room. Jarret was waiting for her there, sitting in the room's lone chair, his feet propped on the edge of the bed. He looked up when she entered.
"I thought you'd be gone," she said, shutting the door gently. "The widow surely thinks you're gone."
"I came in the back way. I thought we needed to talk."
Rennie pulled out the ribbon at her nape and shook out her hair. Leaning against the door, she closed her eyes and massaged her scalp. Her weariness was complete. "Please," she said, "can we talk later? I can't think of anything right now save a hot bath and a full night's sleep in that bed." She pushed away from the door, only to find herself bumping hard into Jarret's chest.
He steadied her and held her startled gaze when she opened her eyes. "All right," he said, "but only because I'm thinking of just about the same thing." He kissed her on the forehead. "I could do with less than a full night's sleep if I was sharing that bed with you."
"Oh, Jarret." She slipped her arms around him and pressed her cheek to his chest. "Promise you won't forget that I love you."
"Rennie?"
"Promise."
He rested his chin in her hair. "I promise." Unable to fathom the bent of her mind, he held her just that way for several long minutes, his fingers sifting through her hair. "You're going to fall asleep standing up." He gently prodded her toward the bed. "I'll mention to the widow that you want a bath."
"She'll be shocked," she said, lying down and shutting her eyes. "You're not supposed to be here."
Jarret kissed her cheek. "If you're not at my cabin before sunup, then I'm coming back here, and to hell with Mrs. Shepard or your father."
"Hmm."
"I mean it."
She brushed aside the finger that was tapping the end of her nose. "I'll be there. I want to talk, too."
Jarret straightened. "It's not the only thing I have in mind."
Rennie buried her face in the thick feather pillow. "Me either."
* * *
He wasn't certain that she'd even remember their conversation, much less oblige him by showing up at his cabin. Still, a few hours past midnight Jarret heard the door being pushed open and the familiar light clicking of Rennie's shoes on the floor boards. The glow from the fire reached him as she added wood and stoked the embers. The ladder rattled against the loft as she began to climb.
Jarret lay back and pretended to sleep.
Taking no particular pains to be quiet, Rennie crouched in the loft and stripped out of everything except her cotton shift. She dove under the covers and snuggled against him. He didn't move. Rennie raised herself on her elbows and leaned over him. She brushed his nose with hers. "I think you're faking," she said softly, her breath warm against his lips. "I know just how to touch you to wake you up."
Jarret kept his eyes closed, though it was harder not to smile. He anticipated her fingers fiddling with the drawstring of his drawers, dipping just below the waist... which was why he nearly came out of his skin when Rennie thrust her icy feet under his legs. He captured her wrists, wrestled her onto her back, and nuzzled her neck with noisy, playful kisses.
Their foreplay was laughter, but their joining was intense. She was ready for him and he was in her, driving hard. She gasped at the force of his entry, but when he stilled she was the one who arched, driving into him. It was a battle of wills and greedy pleasures where surrender was a victory. She said his name huskily and bit off the sound of his wild pleasure. When he collapsed against her she welcomed the warm sweat-slick weight of him. He shifted to the side, and now she rolled with him, raising her thigh to trap his legs while stretching her other leg against his.
"Sometimes I think if you don't touch me, I'll die," she whispered, "then you touch me and it feels as if I'll die anyway."
"You know exactly the right things to say." Jarret's fingers trailed lightly on the arm that lay across her chest. "The first time I touched you, you didn't like it at all," he said.
"You dangled me off the floor."
"I swept you off your feet."
"You made me faint."
"I made you swoon."
Rennie punched him softly in the ribs. "You were horribly ill-mannered."
"You
were trying to slap my best friend."
She laughed, remembering. "You must have thought me mad."
"I thought you were wonderful."
"Really?"
"Well, not just at that moment, but it occurred to me eventually." This time Jarret was able to catch her fist before she landed the jab. Her light laughter washed over him. Jarret let it fade away; then he said seriously, "We should talk, Rennie."
"No," she said. "Not yet. Let's sleep."
He did for a while; but the loft became cold, and when he reached for Rennie she wasn't there. Jarret sat up, fear setting his heart slamming; then he heard her below. He leaned over the edge of the loft and saw her. She was sitting on a blanket in front of the fire, combing out her hair with her fingers, separating the damp strands. He had seen her like this once before, in her own room, her dark red hair spilling over one shoulder, her skin drinking in the colors of the firelight. He had wanted her, and there hadn't been a damn thing he could do about it then. There was now.
Jarret hitched a sheet around his waist and climbed down the ladder. He knelt behind Rennie and pulled her hair back. He let it fall through his fingers slowly. His voice was hushed. "I thought you wanted to sleep."
"I did. I couldn't."
"Neither could I, not without you there." He leaned forward and pushed her shift off one shoulder. His lips touched the naked curve of her neck. "You're beautiful." Her skin grew warmer, but she didn't flinch at his words. Her head tilted to one side as his mouth became more insistent, more seeking.
First it was the heat. His mouth on her throat. His hands on her breasts. Then it was the fire. His fingers trailing down her spine. The damp edge of his tongue on her skin. He dropped her shift to her waist. His palms slid along her shoulders, her arms. Back and forth. Learning the shape of her. She leaned back and was tucked against his body, her hair a silky screen between their skin. His hands slipped around her waist. Then lower. He ran his palms from her hips to her knees. Up and down. Gentle pressure urged her thighs apart. Her neck arched. She lent her throat to his mouth, lent herself to his fingers. Tension pulled her muscles taut, made her press herself intimately against him. He caressed; she responded. She breathed shallowly, air never quite filling her lungs. He explored the flat of her belly, pressing hard against her skin. He cupped her breast. The nipple rose. Hardened. He whispered in her ear, against her skin. His words, his mouth, raised a response. "Yes," she said.
Again, "Yes." He stroked her. The heat had a center now, the tension focus. The circle widened. His hand between her legs. His mouth sipped the light reflected on her shoulder. "Oh, God," she said. It was hardly a sound at all. Then, "Jarret." She was shattering, trembling. Her head fell forward. He held her, pushed aside her hair, and kissed the back of her neck. Her body was flushed. It cradled him.
They leaned forward together. Her hips were raised. He came into her from behind. A slow thrust. She held the length and heat of him. She rocked. He made a sound at the back of his throat. It was her name. She moved again. He filled her. She thought she could see their reflection in the flames, their bodies twined, joined. The pressing. The sliding. His hips rolled hard against her bottom. The thrusts deepened; his breathing quickened. "Sweet," he said. Her body tightened around him. He held her still, just held her, feeling the velvet tightness of her. The set of his face was taut, desire held in check. It couldn't last. He wanted it to last; he wanted it to last forever. She pushed against him, and he could not help himself, could not help the quick and shallow thrustings. His throat arched. He closed his eyes. His body contracted as he spilled his seed into her.