Song of the West (12 page)

Obeying, she allowed the warm strength to seep into her veins and relaxed with a sigh. “Bree certainly came through this better than I did.” She drank again. Jake straddled a chair, leaning his arms on the back. “When I left her, she was lying there with the baby, looking like she'd just finished having a picnic. Dan looked like he was about to keel over, I was ready for someone to cart me away. Yet Bree lies there, glowing like a rose.”

“Your sister's quite a woman.”

“I know.” Her eyes dropped to the surface of the table. “She said she has someone to depend on her now. I guess the time's come to stop playing big sister. She doesn't need that anymore.”

“So, what will you do now?” His voice was casual.

“I'll stay around a couple of weeks, then I'll go on.” She struggled, seeing only a void.

“To what?”

Her fingers tightened on her glass. “To my work, to my life.” She drank, and the brandy was bitter.

“Still set on leaving?” He lifted his own glass, swirling the liquid. Amber danced under the kitchen light. “You haven't seen Wyoming in the autumn.”

“No, I haven't,” she answered, evading his prior question. “Maybe I'll come back next year.” She stared down at her hands, knowing she never would.

“She's hungry!” Dan charged into the kitchen, his grin threatening to split his face. “Just had a baby, and she says she's hungry. Sam, I love you.” Plucking her from her chair, Dan tossed her into the air. Her laughter ended on a shriek as she clutched at him on her journey down. The shriek was strangled as she was smothered by a bear hug. “I swear, if bigamy wasn't against the law, I'd marry you.”

“If I was still all in one piece,” she managed, turning her face and gulping for air.

“I ask you, Jake.” He consulted the other man as his arms threatened to destroy the alignment of Samantha's rib cage. “Have you ever known another like this one?”

“Can't say that I have.” She heard the smile in his voice, though it was impossible in her position to see his face. “I'd say Samantha is unique. One of a kind.”

Rising, he lifted his brandy and toasted them both.

Chapter Twelve

“Sam, you're going to spoil her.”

“Impossible.” Sitting in the front porch rocker with the week-old Jennifer, Samantha smiled at her sister. “She's much too intelligent to be spoiled. Anyway, it's an aunt's privilege.”

As she continued to rock, her lips strayed to Jennifer's soft tuft of dark hair. I won't be able to do this much longer. She looked to the massive peaks gleaming silver-blue in the afternoon sun. A light breeze stirred the air, bringing the sweet scent of freshly mowed grass. She breathed it in, and the soft scent of Jennifer's talc mingled with it. A sigh escaped.

She had not realized such a small creature could wrap her way around the heart so completely. Another love to leave behind. In just a week, I'll have to say good-bye to all the things that matter: Bree, Dan, Wyoming, and now Jennifer.

Dents and bruises, she thought again, but not the open wound that comes from leaving the man. Arrogant and gentle, demanding and kind, hot-tempered and easy; the parts that made up Jake Tanner were complicated and many, but to Samantha, it was a simple equation of love.

Blast you, Jake Tanner, if it weren't for you, I could stay. I belong here. I felt it from the first time I saw the mountains. There's nothing for me in Philadelphia. You've left me without anything to go back to.

“Looks like Lesley's coming to pay a visit,” Sabrina observed. Samantha jerked back to the present with a snap.

She watched the late-model compact winding down the drive. Ignoring the flare of impossible jealousy, she set her features in casual lines.

“Sabrina, how well you look.” Lesley's greeting was obviously tinged by surprise. “It's only been a week, and you look positively . . .” She hesitated, searching for a word.

“Radiant?” Sabrina suggested, and laughed. “I just had a baby, Lesley, not open-heart surgery.”

“But to go through all that here, and without a doctor.” She turned to Samantha. “I heard from Jake that you were marvelous and handled everything.”

Samantha shrugged, uncomfortable at hearing Jake's praise from Lesley's lips. “It was nice of him to say so, but Sabrina did all the work.”

“Well, having a baby is not a prospect I look forward to.” Lesley shivered delicately. “I certainly intend to put it off as long as possible.” Gliding over, she bent her head over the sleeping infant. “She is quite lovely, Sabrina. Very sweet.”

“Would you like to hold her?” Samantha offered.

“Oh, no.” Lesley stepped back. “I'm afraid I'm not very good with babies.”

As she moved, Samantha caught the glint of the large square-cut diamond on her left hand. Lesley followed her gaze and held out her hand. “You didn't know I was engaged, did you, Sabrina?”

“No.” Sabrina cast a quick glance at her sister. “We hadn't heard.”

“Well, you have been rather busy.” She moved her fingers, enjoying the changing lights. “And we haven't made any formal announcement yet. We're planning a bit of a party for next week. As a matter of fact, I'm just on my way into town to begin shopping for my trousseau. Of course, I'll have to make a trip into New York for some proper clothes, but I'll just have to make do locally for the time being. We've set the wedding for the end of September.” She smoothed her perfectly groomed hair with a well-manicured hand. “I could have done with a bit more time, but men have no idea how difficult things are to arrange properly.” She smiled again. “Well, I must fly. I have so much to do. I do hope you'll be able to make it to the wedding, Samantha.”

Sabrina glanced again at her sister. “Sam won't be here in September, Lesley.”

“Oh, too bad.” The regret in Lesley's voice was mild. Her mind had already run ahead to her wardrobe. She opened the door of the compact and slid behind the wheel. Lifting a slim arm in farewell, she drove away.

Rising, Sabrina took the sleeping Jennifer from her sister's arms and went into the house. When she returned, she sat on the arm of the rocker and laid her hand on Samantha's shoulder.

“I knew it was going to happen,” Samantha murmured. “I just didn't want to be here when it did. I didn't think it would hurt this much. Oh, Bree.” She looked up at her twin with helpless, swimming eyes. “What am I going to do?”

For the first time in their relationship, their situations were reversed, and Samantha was vulnerable, seeking comfort and advice.

“Sam, you can't go on like this. Why don't you talk to him?” Sabrina stroked the thick fall of her sister's hair. “Something is wrong here, and the two of you have to talk things out.”

“No. I won't give him the opportunity to feel sorry for me.”

“Pride can be a very cold companion,” Sabrina murmured.

Samantha stood up. “I'm going back early, Bree. I can have everything arranged by the day after tomorrow, maybe even by tomorrow night.”

“Sam, you can't run away from this.”

“Just watch me.”

“Mom and Dad won't be here for a few more days. They'll be disappointed.”

“I'm sorry, I hate to miss them, but I can't handle this.” Pausing, she repeated, the admission surprising her, “I
really
can't handle this.”

“But, Sam . . .” Sabrina joined her at the porch rail. “You should at least talk to Jake. Don't you want to know how he feels? You can't just go flying off without speaking to him, without saying good-bye. Something's not right about all this. I've thought about the two of you. I've seen the way he looks at you.”

Shaking her head, Samantha moved toward the door. “No, he hasn't shown his face since the baby was born, and Lesley Marshall has his ring on her finger. A diamond. He has what he wants.”

***

Samantha spent the evening packing, while Shylock watched her in silent accusation from his habitual place in the center of her bed.

Once in bed, she spent most of the night staring at a moon-washed ceiling. When the first pale light of dawn crept into the room, she rose. The mauve shadows under her eyes were a sad tribute to the restless hours.

The house slept on, and she deserted it, making her way to the stables. She saddled her mount with quick, deft movements, then galloped over the faint mist of morning.

As the sky lightened, the air came to life with the sweet song of birds. Sadly, she listened to the song of the west, for she knew that the melody would linger forever in her heart. She watched the mountains transformed by the dawn. Ribbons of rose and gold melted into blue until the peaks were no longer silhouettes, but stood proud in the full glory of the sun. She stayed for a last look at the white-faced Herefords grazing on the short, coarse grass. She knew now that her love for this wild, free country was forever bound up with her love for Jake. In saying good-bye to one, she was saying good-bye to the other. Straightening her shoulders, she turned the little mare back to the Lazy L.

When she returned to the house, she greeted her sister with bright chatter, the meaningless words no disguise for sleep-starved eyes. Sabrina made no comment, and shortly disappeared into the bedroom to tend to the baby.

Alone, Samantha wandered aimlessly from window to window. Tonight, she thought, slipping her hands into the pockets of her jeans, I'll be on a plane. And tomorrow morning, all this will just be a dream.

“Morning, ma'am.”

She whirled, nearly upsetting a vase of roses with the movement. Jake leaned against the door frame, legs crossed at the ankles, as if he had been watching for some time.

“What are you doing here?”

He took a few strides into the room. “Well, now, I came to fetch you.” This information was imparted in an irritatingly slow drawl.

“Fetch me? What are you talking about? I'm not a dog or a maverick calf to be fetched.”

“Maverick calf sounds pretty close. You're always running off in the wrong direction.” Reaching out, he took her arm. “Come on, we're going for a ride.” His voice was pleasant, but the steel was there. She jerked away, angry with his arrogance, wary of his tone.

“I have no intention of going anywhere with you. Why don't you just go away and leave me alone?”

“Now, I can't do that, Sam,” he returned in a reasonable tone. “We have some unfinished business to attend to. Your time's up.”

The fire in her eyes flickered and died. “You can't be serious.”

“I'm dead serious.”

“What . . . what about Lesley?”

“She's not invited,” he returned simply.

“I'm not going with you,” she said, somewhere between terror and fury. “You can't make me.”

Stopping, he looked down at her from his overpowering height. “Sure I can,” he corrected with easy confidence. With a swift movement, he swung her over his shoulder. “See?” He walked effortlessly down the hall. “Nothing to it.”

“Let me down!” Furious fists beat against his back. “This is crazy, it's illegal. I'll have you thrown in jail!”

“No kidding? Sam, you're scaring me to death.”

He continued easily down the hall, as if he carried an empty sack, rather than an irate woman who was thumping against his back. Pausing, he touched the brim of his hat as Sabrina appeared in the bedroom doorway, the baby in her arms.

“Morning, Sabrina.” His greeting was genial, and he cocked his head to get a better view of Jennifer. “She's a real beauty.”

“Thank you, Jake. We certainly think so.” She shifted the baby and smiled. “Are you two going out?”

“Thought we'd go for a little ride,” Jake informed her. “We may be gone some time.”

“It's a fine day for it, hardly a cloud in the sky.”

“Bree.” Samantha's voice was desperate. “Don't just stand there,
do
something.” She pushed at the hair that hung over her face. “Don't you see what he's doing? He's kidnapping me. Call the police, call Dan.” She continued to plead as Jake touched the brim of his hat once more and moved down the hall. “Bree, say something.”

“Have a good time” was her sister's surprising response.

Samantha's mouth fell open in dumb astonishment. A stream of imaginative curses was hurled on Jake's unperturbed head as he took the reins of his mount from a grinning cowboy.

“Looks like you got yourself a real handful there, Jake.”

“No more than I can handle,” he countered, swinging into the saddle with Samantha still held over his shoulder. With a speed that defied his easygoing manner, he had her in front of him in the saddle, spurring the horse into a gallop, before she could think of escape.

“You're going to pay for this,” Samantha promised, clutching the saddle horn to keep her balance. “You can't just run off with me this way!”

“I didn't see anybody try to stop me,” Jake pointed out.

He followed the road for some time without decreasing his pace, then cut across an open field. At a small grove of trees, he reined in, gripping Samantha around the waist when she attempted to wiggle down.

“Now, don't do that, Sam,” he warned in a friendly voice. “I'd just have to catch you, and I throw a mean lasso.”

He slid from the chestnut, and before her feet could touch the ground, she was back over his shoulder. Without ceremony, she was dumped under the fragile, bending leaves of a willow while he towered over her, grinning with obvious enjoyment.

“You're going to be sorry,” she predicted, smoldering with fury. “I'm going to . . .” The rest of her words slipped back down her throat as he dropped down next to her. “You—you can't do this, Jake. You're not the kind of man who forces himself on a woman.”

“Who says?” Pushing her back on the soft grass, he covered her body with his.

Her body betrayed her with instant response. Her skin tingled as his mouth brushed over it. “You're not really going to do this.”

“I told you once—” his mouth moved to her ear, and his words were warm and soft against it “—not to forget your own words. There are some things you just have to do.”

His kiss was long and lingering.

When her mouth was free, she drew in a deep breath and spit out with all her strength, “What kind of man are you, to make love to one woman and plan to marry another?”

His eyes lazily narrowed. He propped himself on one elbow, his other arm pinning her down. Lifting his head from his elbow, he undid the top button of her blouse. “Suppose,” he continued, moving down to the next button, “you tell me whom I'm supposed to marry.”

His fingers trailed a slow line from her throat, down the smooth skin her open blouse revealed, and rested on the next button. The blood began to pound in her ears. His eyes alone held her still as he spread her blouse apart. Slowly, his fingers roamed up the warmth of her skin, moving with casual possession over her. Her eyes clouded with growing need as he explored.

“Tell me who I'm going to marry, Samantha.” His body shifted again, molding to hers. His shirt was warm against her naked flesh.

“L-Lesley,” she stammered.

“No.” His mouth lowered to the curve of her throat, his tongue teasing the vulnerable skin.

She felt the waist of her jeans loosen under his hand. His finger pushed away the material and moved along her hip. With her last claim to lucidity, she pushed against his chest.

“Please stop.”

“Now I just can't do that, Sam.” His hands teased the curve of her hip, trailing back up to the side of her breast. “I've waited a good long time to get you where I want you.”

“I'm not staying . . . Did you say you weren't marrying Lesley?”

He frowned down in consideration, winding her hair around his finger. “Seems to me I did mention that. I don't know why you're always piling your hair on top of your head when it looks so good spread all over.”

“But she was wearing your ring.”