An Unlikely Lady (24 page)

She smiled at Annie. “I'm sure it will be fine.” Then she looked at Jesse and softly asked, “Are you coming?”

The question swept him back to the first time she'd asked it, standing on the stairs of the Scarlet Rose in that heart-stopping red silk dress . . .

“I don't think it's a good idea if we sleep in the same room, Honesty.”

He could have kicked himself for causing the hurt that flashed across her eyes. “Then I'll see if Justine minds sharing her room with me tonight.”

“That's not necessary. You take the blue room. I'm gonna sleep in the barn.” If he slept under the same roof as Honesty tonight, he wouldn't have the strength to keep away. At least in the stables he'd get a decent night's rest without images of her taunting him.

Or so he hoped.

Jesse awoke drenched in sweat and so hard it was a wonder he didn't bust a placket. Every time he closed his eyes, his mind filled with such explicit images of Honesty that he'd have sworn she'd been lying in the hay with him. Hell, the dreams he was having were a whole lot more memorable than the night he'd spent with her back in Last Hope.

Hoping the night air might cool him down, he went outside and took a seat in a chair outside the barn. A half moon looked down on him with pity.

He didn't know how long he stared the damn thing in the face before his thoughts turned to Brett's reaction to Honesty earlier. Brett had been quite the ladies' man before he'd married Annie, but never once since the day she'd agreed to be his wife had he so much as looked at another woman. And Honesty would only have been a girl during his player days, so he couldn't have known her that way.

The sound of footsteps on dried grass pulled him from his musings. He glanced around and found Annie strolling toward him, her arms wrapped around her waist. “What are you doing awake?” he asked. “It's three o'clock in the morning.”

“I was thinking about you.”

“Annie, we're married to other people,” he jested.

Her smile was brief. And sad. “She doesn't know who you are, does she?”

He didn't have to ask who she meant. “Nope, and we're going to keep it that way.”

“You can't judge all women by the actions of one,” she softly scolded.

“If I did that, I wouldn't be here.”

“You should tell her, Jesse.”

“Why?”

“Because I don't want to see you make the same mistake I did.”

“Ace always knew who you were, Annie.”

“His knowing is one thing, my not telling him is another.” She laid her arms over the top of the fence. “She has a right to know she could be in danger traveling with you.”

“I won't let anything happen to her.”

“You may not be able to help it.”

Jesse thought about the close call in Last Hope, and his jaw clenched.

“Just what I thought—you've got feelings for her.”

“Jeez, Annie, Ace is putting too many damn romantic notions in your head.”

“I
know a man in love when I see him.”

“I'm
not
in love. I'm just helping the woman look for what family she's got left.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Jesse.” She
laughed and patted his shoulder. “But a word of advice from someone who knows: be careful what you look for. You just might find it.”

After she disappeared inside the house, Jesse leaned back in the chair with the back of his head pressed against the rough log wall. Annie had gone out of her ever-lovin' mind. He wasn't in love with Honesty. In lust, yes. What man with breath in his body wouldn't be?

But in love?

With Honesty?

He'd never heard of anything so ridiculous in his life.

Still scoffing at the notion, Jesse dropped his hands to his knees and pushed himself out of the chair.

“You lied to me.”

Startled by the voice behind him, Jesse swung around. Honesty stood at the corner of the wrap-around veranda, looking madder than a wet hen.

“What?”

“You
are
an outlaw.”

“Hell, are we back to that again?”

“I heard Annie tell you that I could be in danger traveling with you.”

Jeez, what else had she heard? “Eavesdropping, now, are we?”

“Is it true?”

Jesse raked his fingers through his hair.
Maybe Annie was right. Maybe he should tell her.

She walked toward him, her head tilted to the side. “Are you an outlaw?”

“No, I'm not an outlaw.”

“Then who are you, Jesse Jones? Or is that even your name?”

“As much as yours is Honesty.”

He'd cornered her there. Until Deuce's death, Honesty would have argued herself blue in the face, but now . . . now she didn't know anything. “Just tell me this, then. Am I safe with you?”

“As safe as you'd be with anyone.”

She almost laughed. If he'd meant that to be assuring, he'd missed the mark by a mile. He cupped her jaw and turned her face toward his. “Honesty, I give you my word, you will come to no danger with me.”

After searching his eyes for several seconds, she turned into his arms and laid her cheek on his shoulder. He tensed, but she ignored it. He was the closest thing to security that she had in this world right now, even though she couldn't trust him farther than she could throw him. She was so tired. So afraid. So alone. “Hold me for a minute, Jesse. That's all I'm asking.”

Jesse stared at the head on his shoulder, protectiveness welling up inside him so strong and powerful that his chest ached. He shut his eyes
and as his arms closed around her, Jesse feared that Annie might be closer to the mark than he'd thought.

If he wasn't in love with Honesty now, he was coming dangerously close.

H
onesty slid another sidelong glance at Jesse, who saddled his horse with swift, impatient movements. His lips were pressed in the same grim line they'd been in since she'd woken an hour ago. Not a word had passed between them.

He wouldn't look at her. He wouldn't touch her. He wouldn't speak to her. Was he so angry with her that he couldn't bear to be around her now?

Honesty blinked back a sudden sting of tears. She never should have gone down to the barn. Never should have overheard parts of his conversation with Annie. Never should have confronted him with it.

It was just that she'd gotten so used to him
sleeping nearby, that the room had been . . . well, so darn lonely.

Only dimly aware of what she was doing, she buckled the bedroll onto the little gray mare Jesse had picked out for her, then gathered their filled canteens. Clutching them to her breast, she carried them to Jesse.

“Where will you go?” Brett was asking him.

“Tascosa.”

“Are you sure that's wise?”

“Probably not, but it's my best shot of finding someone to take Honesty to find her brother, and while I'm at it, I'll see what I can do about getting this marriage annulled.”

She caught Brett's eye over Jesse's shoulder, and wished the earth would open up beneath her feet and swallow her.

“You sure you want to do that?” he asked Jesse, though his gaze never wavered from her.

Several heartbeats passed without Jesse's reply, and Honesty didn't realize how badly she wanted to hear him say, “Hell, no, she belongs to me” until he said instead, “Yeah, I'm sure.”

She shut her eyes and turned away. She didn't know why it surprised her. He hadn't said anything she didn't already know.

Well, this was it, she supposed, striding to the little gray mare being lent her. They'd reach Tascosa, he'd find her another escort, she'd pay him the measly twenty-two dollars and thirteen
cents she had left, and they'd go their separate ways.

And she'd never know what it felt like to be loved by him. Or made love to by him.

She swallowed the thick knot of regret rising in her throat. As much as wished she could deny it, she'd been attracted to Jesse almost from the instant she'd seen him riding up that old dusty road back in Last Hope. And with each day she spent in his company, that attraction, that longing, had done nothing but grow until she could hardly bear it. To feel his hands on her, her hands on him, his breath whispering across her body . . .

“Sleep well?”

She gave Jesse a brief glance out of the corner of her eye and shrugged. “You?”

“Fits and snatches.”

“Maybe you shouldn't have spent the night in the barn.”

“If I'd have spent the night in that house, neither of us would have gotten
any
sleep.”

Honesty's mouth fell open. He couldn't have meant what she thought he meant. The idea that he might actually have wanted her as badly as she'd wanted him sent a delightful warmth rushing through her blood, and lifted her spirits so high her feet barely touched ground as she attached her carpetbag.

They set out on a westerly path through the
eternal prairie blanketed with yellow amaryllis. Above her, the sky had never been more blue, and below her, the grass never so green. She didn't know what to say to Jesse, but she longed for the sound of his voice, so she said the first thing that popped into her mind. “Your Mrs. Corrigan is an unusual woman.”

“That she is. But she not ‘my'
anything
.”

“Really? I thought there was something between the two of you.”

“Me and Annie?”

“You clearly have feelings for her.”

“'Course I do. I respect her and admire her. The woman's got more courage in her little finger than most men I know. But that don't mean I love her. Besides, Ace would kill any man who looked twice at her.”

“Would you?”

“Look twice at Annie?”

“Kill any man who looked at your woman.”

“If she meant as much to me as Annie does to Brett, I'd tear him limb from limb.”

Oh, gosh . . . “I envy her that love. To be the center of a man's devotion, his reason for coming home at the end of a long journey . . .”

“No reason you can't have that, Honesty.”

“Someday, maybe, but not—”

“What?”

Not with you
. Horrified at what she'd nearly divulged, Honesty quickly sought a safer topic.

“It's so beautiful out here. The way the wind makes the grass ripple and the sun turns everything to gold. Can you hear the music?”

“I don't hear anything.”

“That's because you aren't listening. Close your eyes, Jesse. If you listen real close, you can hear the wind sing to you.”

Jesse felt like an idiot when he closed his eyes, but she sounded so light and happy that he couldn't deny her.

At first, the only thing he heard was the eternal rush of wind. Then slowly, the steady beat of hooves provided the percussion. The birds up high resembled flutes and clarinets, and the wind through the reeds became a violin solo.

And for the first time in fifteen years, Jesse found himself humming aimlessly. The unknown notes came from a place so deep inside him that he'd forgotten it even existed. His spirit soared beyond his body, his mind filled with the sound of an orchestra, and his fingers . . . he could almost feel the ivory beneath them.

Finally, with the last note of the composition drifting slowly back down, Jesse opened his eyes to the sight of Honesty staring at him, her mouth opened in speechless astonishment.

And Jesse wished he could just disappear.

He cleared his throat and gave his horse a nudge with his heels.

“I had no idea you could sing,” she said, catching up to him.

“It's not something I do very often.”

“Haven't you ever considered making a career of your music?”

“What for?”

She shrugged. “Fame. Fortune. Personal satisfaction. I'd be willing to wager that if you took to the road, people would stand in line to hear you play.”

Jesse thought of all the years he'd performed for the scions of society, playing the piano and singing ballads, while his father stood off to the side, wearing that smirk that declared to one and all, “I created this.”

“I don't want fame, have no use for fortune, and I find my personal satisfactions elsewhere.” Most of the time, anyway, he thought with a twist of his lips. He hadn't had any personal satisfaction in months that he could remember.

“Then what will you do when our business is finished?”

The million-dollar question. Hadn't he been asking himself that same thing? And it hit him with sudden clarity: he wanted to be everything his father wasn't. The day he'd left Chicago, he'd given up his name, his fortune, even his music. He shrugged. “Might try my hand at ranching.”

“You?”

“Why not me?”

“Good cow feathers, Jesse, you'd be as happy tending a bunch of steers as you'd be busting rock in a quarry.”

“How do you know what would make me happy?”

“You're a man who thrives on challenge. There is no challenge or adventure in riding a fence that will pen you in as much as it does the dumb beasts meant for slaughter.”

“Well, I won't know unless I give it a try.”

“That's true,” she conceded. “Most of life's greatest achievements are discovered because someone took a stab at it.”

Jesse couldn't contain a laugh. “God, Honesty, you're beginning to sound like my mother.”

“So where do you think you'll begin this little venture?”

“I'm not sure. Here in Texas, maybe. Or New Mexico. Might even try Montana. I've heard there's good grazing there. I'll know it when I find it.”

“I suppose we're all looking for something.”

“What are you looking for?”

“What everyone looks for I guess. A place to belong, someone to belong to.”

“That's it?”

“To some people, that's everything.”