"But my desire to savor my triumph is not the only reason for my delay. I have not forgotten that despite his present circumstances, Mr. Dale still has influence in high places. My true concern is that we allow a plausible period of time to elapse so Mr. Dale will believe we instituted a search for information about his daughter at his request. He must be made to believe we have triumphed over him not through an illegal act, but through the unique position I hold within this community. Only then will we truly be free of the risk of retribution."
Again Mary paused. A hard smile curved her lips. "But in truth, daughter, I will savor this period of waiting for another reason as well. I have nourished inside me a supreme hatred for Mr. Harvey Dale that will not be easily satisfied. I wish him to suffer a little longer, as I suffered when his hands touched your chaste flesh, when he took your innocence, when he came to know you intimately through no desire of your own. I would savor the justice of Harvey Dale's unspoken fear in knowing his bitter enemy holds his beautiful daughter as totally under his control as he held you. It is true justice, indeed, that Harvey Dale's misuse of his power over you will bring him to keener appreciation of that which his daughter is undoubtedly being made to bear. Ah, yes, daughter, sweet is victory over this man, but sweeter still is the knowledge that he writhes in the same pain he caused others. A few more days, Lily…"
Lily's dark eyes held her mother's gaze intently, fusing with its strength. A small smile flicked across her perfect
lips."A
few more days."
The purple shadows of twilight were beginning to deepen across the endless expanse of rolling hills. Devina, almost fully recovered from her brush with death and again clad in the old shirt and trousers, was alone in the cabin. In the silence, Ross's image returned vividly to her mind, and she flushed at the spontaneous warmth of her own reaction. Her body, inexperienced and untutored in the ways of loving, reminded her in countless ways of Ross's unrelenting, loving attentions, but the tender aching of her soft flesh served only to return the recollection of passionate ministrations that had wrought it.
In an attempt to put aside the memories flooding her mind, Devina stood up and walked unsteadily toward the fire. She stirred the simmering stew and breathed deeply of its appetizing aroma. Uncertain of the exact moment he had entered the cabin, Devina was suddenly conscious of Ross's presence behind her just an instant before his strong arms closed around her from behind. His hands slipped up to cup her breasts through the coarse fabric of her shirt, and she leaned full back into his chest. His warm lips played against the side of her neck, sending small shivers down her spine, and she closed her eyes as a multitude of feelings assaulted her senses. The moist heat in the pit of her stomach expanded. It robbed her of her strength even as it moved to settle in the deep inner core of her being, the place no man had touched before Ross brought her to full, throbbing life. It was a part of her that was his and his alone, although she dared not openly declare it so.
Ross's lips moved to her ear. He whispered low, heated endearments, and she raised a hand to the hard planes of his cheek. She loved the feel of this man. She loved being in his arms. She loved having him inside her.
But who was this man she loved? That sobering thought made Devina stiffen, but Ross's knowing hands continued to caress her breasts, sending wave after wave of pulsing emotion along her spine. His gentle, loving lips cajoled her, tormented her into mindlessness once more. His strong arms turned her in their embrace, and his lips found hers.
Ross devoured her mouth with a passion that bespoke a hunger as deep and insatiable as her own, and Devina submitted to its driving assault. Her searching hands found his shoulders, her arms encircled his neck. She was merging, melting into the hard, firm body, which sought to consume hers with its loving strength.
But Ross separated himself from her, holding her at a distance even as he kissed her mouth, her cheeks, her eyes, the throbbing pulse in her temple. Seeking to feel him close to her again, Devina sought to be free of his restraint, only to realize that her rough shirt was being stripped away. It fell to the floor as Ross's mouth closed over the naked, engorged crests of her breasts.
Devina gasped, myriad searing emotions assailing her even as Ross's name rang over and over in her mind in an endless, loving litany:
Ross, yours is the mouth that has brought me love. Ross, yours are the hands that have brought me alive. Ross, you are the fulfillment for which I have longed. Ross, I know this now, I know this as surely as I know I will never be happy without you again
.
Ross's tender, burning touch moved to the soft flesh at her waist, and he unfastened the closure on her trousers. She felt the rough fabric slipping down over her hips and legs. Ross dropped to his knees, and she felt his lips following the path of his hands. She gasped again at the new emotions he raised within her. His mouth moved against the light curls between her thighs, and she gave an involuntary shudder.
Ross's passion-filled gaze rose to hers, even as he cupped her buttocks firmly, supporting her. His soft words rose to her ears as if in a dream filled with matchless beauty, "Devina, I want to love you completely. Give yourself to me, darling."
Unable to resist his impassioned plea, Devina relaxed in his arms, allowing his intimate kiss, his unexpected caresses. His mouth teased lips yet
unawakened
to his kiss, found the waiting bud of her passion, caressed it into full, flowering bloom. She was quaking under the magic of his touch, shuddering. Her knees buckled, and Ross lowered her slowly, cautiously to the floor before the fire. Smoothing her skin, fondling her, leaving not an inch of her warm flesh untouched, unloved, he returned to the warm, moist nest he had abandoned only minutes before.
With tender diligence Ross assailed her with his loving, raised her on great, billowing waves of passion until she floated high above them, drifting in the full, dazzling spectrum of colors racing across her mind's eye… pink, gold, red. Glorious, breathtaking. Then the colors burst, careening, streaking on a ragged, erratic course as she soared freely above the common plane, clutching Ross close. Her body pulsed with the magic he had wrought, and Ross devoured its homage to his lovemaking, drew that part of her inside him, his and his alone.
Devina was motionless as Ross moved to cover her with his length, his mouth touching hers. Her low gasp of acceptance resounded in her mind as Ross slid himself hard and deep inside, as he plunged again, again, as she met the violence of his loving measure for measure, in breathless wonder.
The pounding of Ross's heart reverberated in her mind, echoing her own, and she was raised higher into the ecstatic world Ross and she alone shared. The rhythm became more intense, and a racing anticipation stole Devina's breath. Abruptly the moment had come. She heard it in Ross's low groan of climax, she felt it resound within her as she was suddenly thrust from the pinnacle of sustained ecstasy, whirling, gasping, spiraling in a breathtaking plunge into the deep velvet abyss of total reward.
It was long moments before Devina was able to rouse herself from the lethargy of complete satiation. She was so very tired. Ross's dark eyes met hers as she raised her heavy eyelids, and a sudden' anxiety touched her mind. What would happen when the world again touched them?
Ross caressed her cheek even as he lowered his mouth to hers for a deep, lingering kiss. Seeming to sense her unspoken fear, he whispered against her parted lips, "Don't worry, darling. Just a little while longer and everything will be settled. Everything will be all right."
Devina closed her eyes. Blocking out her anxieties, she allowed Ross's words to console her as she lay in the circle of his arms. She so desperately wanted to believe him.
Chapter XX
The last gray wisps of dawn had surrendered to the brilliant gold of morning, but Charles was oblivious to the beauty of the new day. He reined his horse up in front of the office of the O.K. Corral and dismounted. He dropped his reins into Wilt
Barrows's
waiting hands with a tired nod, untied his medical bag from the saddle, and started walking home. It had been a long, hard night. Isabel Rigger's third child had reluctantly made his way into the world in the early hours of morning, and there had been moments when Charles had doubted the oversize infant would make it. But all his worries had been for naught. Both mother and child had been doing well when he left them, and if the enthusiasm of Harry Rigger and his two daughters for the first male child was an indication, they'd both be receiving more care than they could possibly need.
Charles abruptly changed directions. He needed a good meal under his belt, and the best place to get one was at the Can-Can. Then a few hours' sleep and perhaps the self-pitying, morose individual he had become in the past few days would be put to rest.
Refusing to allow his mind to venture further with that thought, Charles raised his eyes toward the small frame structure at the intersection of Sixth and Allen. The memory of brilliant red hair and dancing brown eyes returned, and a familiar anguish touched his heart.
Turning with great deliberation into the Can-Can, Charles sat down at the first available table. With a few unsociable words, he placed his order, and soon a cup of steaming coffee was delivered to the table. He lifted it to his lips, scalded his mouth, and muttered a low, appropriate curse.
His eyes wandered to the offices of Till-Dale Enterprises, visible through the window by which he sat, and Harvey Dale came to mind. Tension tightened Charles's stomach into knots. Harvey Dale was up to something. Too much time had elapsed since he had returned those files to Dale and given him the accounting Ross had demanded in the ransom note. The appropriate sum should already have been deposited in Ross's name in the bank, and the title to Brad Morrison's mine transferred and signed. Harvey Dale was stalling. Damn the man. Didn't he realize he was playing with his daughter's life?
Charles took a more cautious sip from his cup and swallowed carefully as he continued to stare at the steady flow of pedestrians moving along Allen. His heart suddenly leaping, he spotted a glimpse of flaming hair glinting in the morning sun. Cursing the tall cowboy who sauntered in his direction, efficiently blocking his view, Charles squirmed in his chair in an attempt to see past the fellow's oversize form. His breath escaped in a low gasp as Camille's lush form came into sight.
Hungry for the sight of her, Charles stared as she walked in his direction. His heart was pounding. She was alone.
On his feet before he truly realized his own intention, Charles took only a moment to signal the startled waiter of his return before walking out the door. He was crossing the street when Camille saw him. She frowned as he stepped up on the sidewalk beside her.
"
Bonjour
, Charles. I had not expected to see you on the street so early in the day."
Charles attempted a smile. "And I didn't expect to see you walking alone. Where's the Count? I don't often see you on the street without him these days."
"I suppose that is so. Pierre and I have been very busy shopping and making last-minute arrangements for our return to France."
Charles attempted to ignore the sinking sensation in his stomach that Camille's words evoked. Camille resumed her step, and he took up beside her.
"When are you intending to leave?"
''Pierre and I will leave Tombstone within the next several weeks. It is a long journey home, but I will be happy to see my family again."
Charles nodded. "Yes, I suppose your sisters and brothers will be just as pleased to see you."
"For the brief time that I will spend with them." Camille gave a small shrug. "I am no longer a country girl, Charles. I have accepted that. But Paris has much to offer, and I will make the most of it, as I always have."
They had reached the intersection of Fourth and Allen, and Camille paused. "I am on my way to the post office to send a letter to my family, so I must turn here."
Charles felt a moment's panic assail him. He was tired, depressed. He wanted to talk for a little while. Nobody made him feel as good as Camille did.
Charles took her arm.
"I was just having breakfast." Charles's voice faltered. His tone dropped a note lower as he continued, "Please join me. I've missed you, Camille. I'd like to talk to you, just for a little while."
Camille's face flushed. She averted her eyes, only to look back a moment later with a small, regretful smile. "No, Charles, I think not. There has never been anything but honesty between us, and for that reason I will speak to you without pretense. We have both made a pact with ourselves, have we not, Charles? You are tired. You are feeling very alone, and you want someone to talk to. So you seek someone who had always given you all of herself in everything you have asked of her. But it is not meant that a casual friendship should exist between us, Charles. If the contact between us is renewed, it would not long remain as you now wish. You would then hate yourself, and your agony would begin again."
Camille shook her head, her warm eyes holding his with a directness so typical of her character. "I do not wish to see you suffer self-recriminations, Charles. And neither do I wish a resumption of my own distress. The break between us has been made. We must both remember our original intentions, and we must both be strong enough to fortify them now. Anything else would be unfair to both of us."