A Fire in the Blood (16 page)

      
Roundup was over, and plans for the big celebration dance were under way. It would be held at J Bar this year. Germaine worked all the servants at a killing pace. Not a crevice or cranny in the big house escaped her scrutiny. Every inch must be dusted, scrubbed, polished, or painted before the grand event.

      
Three girls were hired just to act as maids and to assist with the enormous number of kitchen chores. The ball would include a lavish buffet table. Marcus Jacobson stinted nothing when he entertained. Because there had always been such animosity between the housekeeper and Lissa, the younger woman refused to have anything to do with planning the menus or overseeing the beautiful house.

      
She could not cook. In fact, she possessed no domestic skills whatever. Would that make her a poor wife? Not if she married a rich townsman like Lemuel Mathis, who wanted nothing more than a beautiful ornament. What would Jesse Robbins want in a wife? He was not rich or socially prominent. Baking a good pie was probably worth more to him than being a graceful dancer.

      
He had kept his distance ever since the incident at Evers's rodeo, preferring to avoid her and the trouble that always sparked when they were together. She had overheard her father and Moss arguing about the extra gunmen Jess was bringing in from Texas and New Mexico. Some sort of a big showdown was brewing with the rustlers, but she did not know when or how it would come about. She only knew that once it was over, Jesse Robbins would ride out of her life forever. And she would never be the same again.

      
"I must escape this infernal heat! It's affecting my mind." An idea popped into her head. As a child, she had often sneaked away during the summer to a small swimming hole that she and Cridellia had discovered when they were children, still playing together before growing up and becoming spiteful rivals.

      
If only Lissa could remember where it was located. The more she thought of a long, cool swim, the more the idea cheered her flagging spirits. She quickly donned an old cotton blouse and riding skirt and gathered up a blanket, a thick towel, soap, and shampoo, determined to find that secluded pool. The hands all used a deep, wide spot out on the southern fork of Lodgepole Creek as their summer cooling-off place. No one would intrude on her blissful, forbidden fun.

      
Smuggling her gear from the house proved easy enough, since she took the bane of Germaine's existence—Cormac—with her. The last time he had bounded through the parlor to greet her, he had shattered two very expensive Royal Worcester vases with his thrashing tail and had frightened one of the extra maids so badly she had fainted.

      
Lissa told the housekeeper that she was going to take Cormac for a long walk, then spend some time with Vinegar down at the cook's shed. Always happy to have the girl out of her hair, Germaine scarcely noticed when she left. Sneaking into the stable and saddling Little Bit was easy. When Luke Deevers asked where she was riding without an escort, she assured the old man that she would go no farther than the creek. Since she had the big wolfhound with her, he accepted her story.

      
Before the sun was at its zenith in the blindingly bright sky, she was riding across the open plains with the hot summer wind blowing her hair like a fiery banner behind her. Her father always said thirsty cattle could smell water from ten miles away. So hot and desperate for its respite was she, she could smell the swimming hole from five.

      
"The place hasn't changed much," she said to Cormac as she dismounted and scanned the small pool bubbling up from deep in the earth. Much of J Bar land held underground water sources that erupted here and there into swift-running creeks and deep pools that were cold even on the hottest days. This one was especially well hidden in a narrow, rocky ravine only a few miles from the flat, fertile basins where the main herds were held. Since grass and water were abundant there, no one bothered to ride over the barren escarpment to disturb the circle of lush green trees and shrubs at the bottom of the steep little canyon.

      
Of course cattle wandered everywhere, and cowboys followed to reclaim them. She walked around the edge of the small pool after leaving her pinto to drink and graze. The soft mud at the bank bore no traces of recent visitors, except for deer and wolves. Although prairie wolves did not prowl during the day, Lissa was glad of Cormac's protection. The lacy rustling of a stand of birch drew her to undress beneath its canopy. She peeled off her skirt and blouse, boots and underwear, and stood with the sunlight softly dappling her pale ivory skin as it danced between the rustling leaves.

      
Cormac sat and watched her disrobe, curious at first, for he had never been allowed upstairs in her room. She stretched languorously, experimenting with the delicious freedom of being completely nude in the open air. The hound's big brown eyes studied her, then he turned his attention to the pond, as if daring her to race him into the icy water.

      
"What are you looking at? Do you think I'm beautiful, Cormac?" She studied her body uncertainly, wondering how it would compare to that voluptuous music hall entertainer's. "Her breasts are larger," she conceded grudgingly, "but I have more delicate hands." She ran her fingers over her hips and buttocks, remembering how Jess had cupped them, pulling her against the bulge in his pants. Her cheeks flamed.

      
"I came here to cool down, not heat up more," she whispered hoarsely, quickly dashing over to the large boulder that had served her and Cridellia as an elevated platform from which to plunge into the frigid water. They had quickly discovered that inching their way in from the bank was an exercise in self-torture.

      
Cormac had no such qualms. He galloped into the shallows, splashing and barking furiously, then began to paddle back and forth across the small, deep pool. Lissa teetered on the boulder for a moment, working up her nerve for the jump. What if she had forgotten how to swim? What if the cold water paralyzed her with cramps?

      
"I'll just have to rely on you to rescue me, old friend," she said, then jumped from the rock, landing with a big, ungraceful splash beside the frolicking dog.

* * * *

      
Jess had ridden since dawn in the growing heat, checking Sligo's line shack rendezvous, which had received no recent visitors, then cutting sign but finding nothing. The rustlers must have been warned to lie low. He saw a deer break from some low juniper and vanish over the escarpment ahead of him. The thought of a savory venison stew as a break from the endless beef and beans appealed to him. Sliding the rifle from his scabbard, Jess kneed Blaze into a trot and followed the deer.

      
The rocky shelf left no trail, but Jess had spent a lifetime hunting in bleak West Texas terrain. In this heat, spooked deer would eventually head for water unless dogged too closely. After half an hour traversing the escarpment in the direction the deer had taken, Jess was rewarded when the ground dipped sharply, falling away to a small, narrow ravine. He reined in and peered down its steep side to the circle of green below.

      
"Even if the buck gets away, that looks mighty inviting, old hoss," he said to the stallion, who was nickering excitedly as he smelled water.

      
A quick search yielded a rough, zigzagging trail into the ravine. Once he hit level ground, Jess heard the racket. Loud woofs that fairly reverberated off the rocky walls mixed with peals of silvery laughter. He froze in disbelief. Lissa!

      
Swinging down from the black, he led him toward the pool, which was hidden by dense stands of birch, willows and serviceberry. When he cleared the bushes, the pool lay like a gleaming gemstone in front of him, its placid surface broken by the roughhouse playing of the woman and her huge hound. She had just finished working a thick suds through that magnificent mane of fiery hair and was trying to rinse it. Cormac jumped at her, knocking her backward. Laughing, she tumbled beneath the surface.

      
He held his breath when she emerged shaking her head and sending water flying in every direction as she waded into the shallows. Her milky flesh gleamed with silvery droplets that traced sensuous patterns, following the curves of small, perfectly upthrust breasts and slim, subtly rounded hips. Blood raced to his groin, pooling there in a deep, unrelieved ache that tore a primitive growl from him. He remembered the feel of her soft, yielding flesh when he had cupped that sleek little bottom, pulling her against him. And she had come so willingly, issuing the same invitation she had given him again and again until he was tormented beyond reason with it.

      
Avoiding her had not assuaged the need. Neither had his lusty romps with Cammie. Lissa had become a fire in his blood, singing her siren's song, luring him to his destruction. He walked into the clearing and let Blaze amble down to the water to drink.

      
The wind shifted and Cormac raised his head, sniffing, then turned toward where Jess was standing. He let out a joyous peal, barking his welcome.

      
"Cormac, what on earth—?" Lissa turned toward the bank where the dog's eyes were fastened. "Jess!" Her eyes widened and she stood knee-deep in the cold water, too surprised to cover herself. She watched him methodically strip off his clothes.

      
Her mouth went suddenly dry, and a low trembling began to radiate from deep inside her, filling her with a strange lethargy. Yet at the same time she had never felt so alive, so breathless and eager as she did at the moment. "What. . . what are you doing?" Her voice sounded far away, hoarse and raspy, as if she had just run for miles.

      
He paused, tossing his shirt onto the growing pile of his belongings at the edge of the pool. "What does it look like, Lissa? You're reckless. I might as well be reckless, too."

      
"I'm not reckless." Her eyes devoured the ripple of muscles across his shoulders and the patterns of hair on his chest.

      
"Playing mother-naked in a deserted water hole where any man could come on you—that's not reckless? Almost forcing me to kill Brewster— that's not reckless? Wandering off into the hands of a couple of randy rustlers—that's not reckless? Almost breaking your horse's legs in a quicksand bog—not reckless? Lady, I haven't seen a woman get herself into so much stupid trouble since the last time I saw a showboat melodrama." His fingers moved to unbutton his fly.

      
The accusations made her face burn, but she refused to acknowledge their validity. "I brought Cormac along. He's more than equal to any man."

      
His eyes blazed at her, filled with scorn. "For some things maybe, but not for all." He paused and then asked, "For instance, when's the last time you saw Cormac fire a Winchester?" He resumed unfastening his denims.

      
She backed up a step, looking uncertainly over to the dog, who was standing, puzzled, in the shallow water with his tail beating a steady tattoo on the rippling surface of the pond.
      
"Some watchdog you are," she whispered as her gaze once more was drawn to Jess.

      
He kicked free of his denims and began to walk into the pool, slowly, deliberately, like a wild predator stalking his prey. Every hard, sinuous plane of his body was relentless, graceful, hungry. He was male, hot and hard and feverish to take her. She could see all of him this time as her eyes swept from his face down to that splendid chest, then over the faint reddish puckering where she had stitched the gunshot wound. When she looked below at the rampantly male part of him, standing stiffly, proudly erect, she stumbled backward another step, unwilling to protest, unable to run.
This is what you wanted.

      
As if echoing her very thought, Jess said, "You've hounded me since the day I set foot in Wyoming, Lissa. You've teased and taunted, flaunted that beautiful, untried little body until I lay awake nights burning. I'm burning now, Lissa. I can strangle you, or I can love you."

      
As if to emphasize his words, he stepped deeper and deeper into the icy water, oblivious of the cold, until he stood directly in front of her. She could smell sweat and male musk, could feel the heat radiating from his flesh. Against her will, one hand reached out and touched his chest. His heart slammed against her palm so hard she tried to jerk away, but his hand came up and covered hers, pressing it back where it had been.

      
Neither of them felt the blazing sun or the icy water as they stood gazing into each other's eyes. "See what you do to me?" he asked raggedly as he held her palm against his racing heart. "And what I do to you." His other hand grazed the curve of

her breast, then touched the pale pink tip, which had hardened into a nubby point. "You ache, don't you?" he whispered seductively.

      
Lissa gasped, feeling the tight, heavy throbbing gather in her breasts and pool low in her belly. Her other hand glided up his arm ever so softly, skittering over the curve of his shoulder, her fingers tangling in the long, straight hair at his nape. "Yes, Jess," she said simply.

      
With a feral growl, he scooped her into his arms and splashed through the water to the shore where she had earlier spread a blanket on the soft grass. She buried her face against his shoulder and held tightly to him as he knelt. Cormac, bored with the humans who were so roundly ignoring him, caught the scent of a squirrel scampering down the trunk of a tree. With two huge bounds, he cleared the pool and vanished down the ravine after it.

      
Jess laid Lissa down and covered her with his body, tangling his hand in her long, wet hair and tugging on it until she raised her face to his. His mouth came down, crushing hers, demanding entry. She acquiesced and his tongue met hers, gliding, twining, thrusting in sync with his hips as they rocked her rhythmically.