Twelfth Moon (8 page)

Jonah’s bark of laughter made Cade’s gaze swivel toward him, his green eyes snapping. “Kid, I doubt you’ve had the pleasure. Your balls are probably still smooth as a baby’s bottom. You sure don’t have any facial hair to speak of.”

“I was asleep,” Cade said through gritted teeth. “I didn’t know what I was doing. And my…
balls
…are none of your business.” His face got even redder, if that were possible. “I know what goes on between a man and a woman.”

“What do you know about that?” Disbelief colored Jonah’s tone.

“I know enough.” Cade looked away at some distant point on the horizon. He’d said it so quietly, Jonah almost hadn’t heard him.

Maybe Cade did know more…not about what went on between men and women, but the twisted, depraved cravings of particular men. He certainly didn’t seem as interested in the subject as most boys his age would be.

BY THE TIME THE town of San Antonio came into view, Jonah noted how Cade’s chin was scraping his chest. The kid looked weary and bedraggled, like he’d been dragged through the mud for the last couple of miles. The bruises on his neck were beginning to fade, at least what Jonah could see of them through the layer of trail dust coating his skin. The kid’s voice was sounding better, too, not so gravelly as it had been, and the scabbed-over cuts on his cheek were healing.

Once he was cleaned up, Cade would be a good-looking kid, Jonah predicted. With those striking green eyes and that head of curly black hair, he’d have all the girls batting their eyelashes at him.

It was late afternoon when they finally hitched their horses in front of the town’s saloon. Jonah waited until Cade stumbled from his horse and grabbing an arm, propelled him forward through the swinging doors.

He stepped up to the bar, his hand still clasping Cade’s arm. “Are you the proprietor of this establishment?” Jonah asked the man behind the counter.

“Yes, I am.” The man wiped his hands on a stained apron tied around his waist. He was tall and thin, his long chin covered by a growth of short, stubbly whiskers. “Name’s Colby. Cyrus Colby, at your service. What can I get fer ya?”

“I need a room with two beds if you’ve got one. And I’d like to have a tub of hot water prepared, if that’s no trouble.”

Cyrus scratched his chin. “Only rooms we got here have one bed.” He grinned widely, displaying a mouth full of crooked yellow teeth. “Not much sense in having more than one, considerin’ what usually goes on up there.” He winked. “I can have hot water brung up fer a bath, though.”

“That would be fine.” Jonah slapped a gold coin on the counter. “I’d like a bottle of your finest whiskey and two glasses brought to our table.”

Cyrus’s eyes widened at the coin before he scooped it up, bit into it, then slipped it into his pocket. “Yes, sir.”

Jonah guided Cade to an empty table and with a hand on his shoulder, pushed him into one of the chairs. He sat down, facing the doorway and performed his customary scan of the room. There were only a couple of tables that were occupied at this time of the day.

At one of them, there appeared to be a quiet poker game in progress. The three old-timers playing glanced in their direction, curious about the two strangers who’d just arrived. When it was obvious there was nothing unusual about Jonah and Cade, they turned their attention back to their game.

The other table was occupied by a couple of trail-dusty cowboys, probably just passing through after a long cattle drive. They looked harmless enough, but Jonah thought to keep an eye on them, nonetheless.

The bartender brought the bottle and glasses to their table, set them down, and went back behind his bar.

Jonah poured a shot in each glass, sliding one in front of Cade. If anyone needed a stiff drink, it was the kid, after everything he’d been through.

“I don’t want any,” the kid said. “I’d rather have a glass of water.”

Jonah snorted. “Drink it. It’ll put hair on your chest – and your
balls
.” He snickered and downed his shot in one swallow.

Cade’s face became flushed, his lips tightening. “I said I don’t want it.”

“Drink it.” Jonah speared a look at the kid that made most men quiver in their boots.

Cade’s eyes flashed fire as he glared at Jonah, but then he grabbed the drink and defiantly tossed it down in one large gulp. Jonah watched with amusement as the kid’s eyes began to water, and then he choked and wheezed. Chuckling, Jonah poured another shot in each glass. His expression sobered. “Drink.”

Cade obeyed, swallowing the contents with a grimace. He choked again, coughing, his face contorting with distaste. “This tastes awful,” he croaked. “Why do you drink it?”

“It washes the dust of the trail from your throat, and here’s the best part – it has a pleasant side effect.”

Cade pushed his glass toward the bottle. “I’ll have another,” he rasped.

Jonah nodded his approval, pouring a shot, as well as another one for himself. “It goes down better after the first couple, doesn’t it? Now that we’ve passed this hurdle, I should hire a whore to make a real man out of you.”

Cadence sputtered, having just downed her drink, almost shooting it through her nose.
A whore?
Good Lord, if he only knew! She was starting to feel warm…her limbs going weak, a sense of languid desire overcoming her. Her vision blurred and she blinked her eyes, bringing Jonah’s face back into focus.

He was very handsome.

She wanted to kiss him…to undress him…to undress herself and make love to him. She absently drank from the glass, the liquor sliding down her throat much more easily now. It left a pleasant burning sensation in its path as it made its way to her stomach. She smiled lazily.

Jonah corked the bottle, grabbing it in one hand and stood. “It’s time for your bath, kid.”

Six

CADENCE WATCHED JONAH with a silly grin, her eyelids drooping. He came around the table and lifted her with a hand under her arm. She was pulled reluctantly to her feet, her legs wobbling like a pair of noodles. “But I’m not ready to go. I was comf – com-fer-uh-bull.”

“I promised you a bath when we got to San Antonio, and that’s what you’re gettin’.”

A bath?
Cadence tried to remember why that might not be a good idea, but her befuddled mind couldn’t think of an answer right now. Jonah practically had to drag her up the stairs, her feet seeming to have grown too large to maneuver.

And then they were in their room.

Jonah shut the door and she heard the snick of the lock. For a moment, a feeling of panic shot through her as she recalled another time when she found herself in a room, with a man who’d locked the door behind him.

Then she focused on his face and realized this was Jonah. He wouldn’t hurt her. Somehow she knew it deep in her soul that he wouldn’t hurt her.

He set the bottle on an old dresser that stood by the door and stalked toward her. “Take off your clothes, boy, and get into that tub.”

His deep voice sent shivers up her spine.

She backed up.

He continued forward until the backs of her legs met the edge of the tub. She looked up at him, her gaze shifting to his mouth. “You’re sho beautiful,” she whispered.

His stern warning didn’t intimidate her as it was obviously intended. Instead, all she could think of was how his lips would feel against hers. She closed the gap separating their mouths, placing hers gently on his. They felt wonderful, warm, firm, his breath carrying the faint hint of whiskey.

It took a moment for Jonah’s brain to register what the kid was doing. It was too far beyond the realm of reality. Recovering from his shock, he shoved Cade backward into the tub of steaming water, clothes and all. There was a loud
thunk
as the kid’s head hit the edge on his way down. He sank under the water, unconscious.

Thinking quickly, as it would take more than a few shots to have any real effect on him, Jonah kneeled by the tub, grabbed Cade by the shirtfront, and pulled his head from under the water. In the process, the material of the kid’s shirt separated, revealing a delicate gold chain. Curious, Jonah pulled the chain the rest of the way out. On it was a locket – and Robert’s ring.

Fury and rage burned through Jonah’s heart as he thought of his brother’s murder, the savageness of it – the blood. And the one who did it was right here in front of him. He shut his eyes tightly, tears squeezing through his dark lashes. He could just let the little bastard sink into the water and that would be the end of it.

But no, he wanted revenge – restitution for what Cade had done. He wanted to punish him. Torture him. Slowly. Painfully.

With shaking fingers, Jonah reached for the chain, viciously wrenching it from Cade’s neck. His action left behind an angry red mark, another to match the one already fading. Through his haze of anguish, he noticed a strange binding under Cade’s shirt. He pulled the gaping sides farther apart. Slipping his knife from his boot, he cut the binding.

Jonah sucked in a startled breath at what was revealed.

He was staring at a pair of perfectly shaped breasts.

They were round, firm…enough to fill a man’s hands and then some. The skin on her chest was pale, almost translucent, the blue of her veins visible beneath it. And there was a bruise – where he’d slammed her with his elbow last night.

The kid was a girl –
goddammit
– she was a woman!

With fingers that still trembled, he removed the rest of her clothes. While she remained unconscious – probably more from the alcohol she’d consumed than the bump to her head – Jonah studied her body. She had a small waist, pleasantly curved hips, and long, slender legs. His gaze was drawn to the patch of black hair at the apex of her thighs and he grew hard.

Using the washcloth and soap that had been placed on a nearby table, Jonah slowly, gently, washed her – washed away the dirt and grime. He cleaned her face, his touch tender on the bruises on her wrists and neck. She had other bruises, too. There was a large one on her hip, several marring the perfection of her legs, and a few on her back.

He groaned out loud.

He’d caused some of those bruises – maybe even most of them.

His hand slipped up the inside of one thigh, his fingers detecting the only imperfection she probably possessed. He touched it lightly, tracing the raised shape. It was odd. It didn’t seem to be any kind of birthmark – it was too…symmetrical. He turned her leg so he could see it.

There, on the inside of her thigh, branded into her delicate skin – was the letter ‘K’ surrounded by a circle.

Jonah hung his head, closing his eyes, his forearms resting on the edge of the tub. “Oh, my God, Robert,” he whispered hoarsely. “What did you do?”

“
He hurt me.”
Jonah remembered those quietly uttered words. She’d said Robert had hurt her, that she’d killed him in self-defense.

All the things Jonah had done to her in the last several days came rushing back to him – and all the things he’d said. It made him cringe. “Oh, God.”
It’ll put hair on your chest…and your balls
.

He groaned again.

What an ass!

He’d told her he should hire a whore to make a man of him. He’d thrown her belly-down over a galloping horse, tied her already raw wrists, handcuffed her to a tree, tackled her, got her drunk and then pushed her into the tub, knocking her out. And that was all
after
she’d been lynched and hung.

Jonah shoved his fingers through his hair, making it stand on end. He’d been raised to treat women gently, with respect. If he had known— He straightened his back. He was through with recriminations for now. He quickly washed her hair, and then grabbed a towel, throwing it over his shoulder. He lifted Cade –
her
– from the water. Was that even her real name? Her head lolled back over his arm, exposing her slender neck. The bruise from the hanging rope was still visible, as well as the mark he’d put there when he’d jerked on the chain. He cursed aloud, carrying her to a chair where he settled her in his lap.

He took on the task of drying her off as efficiently as possible, trying not to notice her curves, her satiny skin…her breasts. Even so, her soft bottom resting on his groin made him stiff as the barrel of his revolver.

When he finished, he laid her on the bed, rolling her to the side so he could pull back the sheets, and then tucked her under the covers. He stood looking down at her. Inky-black lashes fanned out against skin lightly bronzed from the sun. Below her neck, her skin was the color of pure cream.

Her black hair, no longer stringy and tamed by filth, had begun to curl as it dried, framing her oval face. His gaze moved to her small, slender nose, and then down to her mouth. Her lips were full and pink and soft. He recalled how they felt when she’d pressed them to his. If she had kissed him like that, the way she looked now, he would have fallen on her like a gold-crazed prospector who’d just discovered the mother-load.

Jonah shook his head in an effort to clear it. What was he thinking? She’d killed his brother. She was a murderess and here he was, imagining what it would be like to sleep with her! With a sound of disgust, he turned from the bed and headed toward the door. If there was one thing he couldn’t allow himself to do, under any circumstances, was to be swayed by her beautiful body, her luscious mouth, and those green eyes.