Texas Blonde

Chapter Fourteen

Felicity snuggled up to Joshua, savoring the feel of his naked body pressed up against the length of hers under the covers of their marriage bed. His arms tightened possessively around her, and he sighed contentedly in the aftermath of their passion. Playfully, she stroked the three-day growth of whiskers that shaded his cheeks.

He smiled lazily. "I told you to let me shave first, but you were in such a hurry," he teased, capturing the tiny fist that thumped him on the shoulder in retaliation and kissing each clenched knuckle.

"It seems to me you were in a little bit of a hurry yourself," Felicity reminded him with mock indignation. She remembered that very well, although she only vaguely recalled him muttering something about needing a shave as he was busy tearing her clothes off.

"Can you blame me?" he asked, nuzzling the sensitive spot just behind her ear.

"No," she whispered. She did not blame him at all for being eager, although at first she had feared a very different outcome for this evening.

Joshua had been furious when she told him she had spoken to another doctor, even after she assured him that Dr. Strong had not examined her. Not that she would have minded, of course. Before going to see the good doctor, she had decided she would submit to anything that might return her marriage to normal.

However, Dr. Strong had listened to her story and then informed her that an examination at this time would probably not accomplish anything.

"You should wait at least a year before even thinking about having another child," he had told her. "If, when your body has had a chance to heal, you decide you want to try again, come back and see me."

"A year!" she had protested, and with much embarrassment, had managed to convey her husband's fears of impregnating her if they made love in the meantime.

That was when Dr. Strong had embarrassed her even more by explaining how she and Joshua could make love without fear of pregnancy. All the way home on the train she had agonized over exactly how she would explain the process to Joshua without actually swooning with humiliation, but she had found the task surprisingly easy. As soon as Joshua calmed down about the doctor visit and she showed him the things Dr. Strong had given her, he had quickly comprehended the procedure.

Felicity had anxiously watched the expressions flitting over his handsome face as he gradually realized what this would mean to their marriage. His final expression had been pure, wholesome lust.

"Are you going to show me how to use these things?" he asked provocatively, sending a wave of heat to her cheeks and various other parts of her.

"I'll try," she had replied with feigned primness, "but I'm new at it, too. I may need a lot of practice at first…"

She hadn't even had a chance to finish her teasing. The next thing she knew, they were in the bedroom and clothes were flying everywhere.

Now, with that first burst of passion slaked, Felicity stroked his prickly cheek. Only one worry marred the bliss of the moment. "Was it… was it as good for you as before?"

Dr. Strong had warned that her husband might complain about a certain dulling of sensation.

"It was perfect," he lied. He had noticed a difference, a lessening of pleasure, but what did that matter when weighed against the choice of never having her again? "Couldn't you tell how pleased I was?" he asked with a grin.

Yes, she had been able to tell that. "You weren't half as pleased as I was," she taunted playfully.

Josh pretended to consider that remark. "I suppose that means you must have missed me," he concluded, only half teasing.

"Terribly," she said, no longer teasing at all. "And… did you miss me?"

"Oh, a little," he allowed, but then he saw how her expression had changed, how her blue eyes were clouded with doubt. "I only missed you as much as I would miss my heart if somebody cut it out and carried it off to Philadelphia," he told her raggedly.

"Oh, Joshua, I love you so much," she said, pulling him close and closer still until only the ultimate union could bring the oneness she desired.

"I love you, Lissy," he whispered, his voice urgent with need. "Don't ever leave me again."

Felicity wanted to remind him that she had not been the one to leave, but his mouth was on hers, effectively blocking any argument. After a while, making the point no longer seemed important.

Joshua's hands were gentle but relentless, leaving no part of her body unexplored. Places she had never dreamed could be sensitive sprang to life under his loving touch. Perhaps her reaction was so intense because her body was starved for him, but she did not care to analyze her response at that particular moment. She just wanted to experience it.

And experience it she did, with every sense, every nerve, every fiber of her being, until she heard her own voice, hoarse and breathless, begging for release.

"Help me, Lissy," he commanded, gasping when she swiftly obeyed with fingers made clumsy by all-consuming desire. Then she guided him to her with a boldness she had never shown-and never known-before.

He took her slowly, tormenting them both by prolonging the agony and the exquisite pleasure of delay.

"Don't… ever… leave… me," he chanted against her mouth as his body drove her to unknown heights where the air was thin and she gasped for every breath. She was so high she might have touched the stars, but when she tried, they exploded around her in a brilliant burst of flame.

Jeremiah chewed the last bit of meat off the tiny rabbit bone and tossed it aside. He was still hungry, but that was to be expected when one small rabbit had to feed four grown men. He glanced at the motley group clustered around the campfire and shook his head in disgust. Only four of them remained out of the dozen who had invaded Logan's ranch, and one of the four was so badly wounded, Jeremiah doubted he would live until morning.

"We've got to get out of here before we starve to death," Jeremiah said to the wizened man squatting to his right.

Ortega turned his beady black eyes toward Jeremiah, eyes filled with hate and suspicion. "I will not leave until I have killed Logan," he said with the air of one repeating a catechism.

"You won't be able to kill Logan if you're dead yourself," Jeremiah pointed out with what he hoped sounded like perfect logic. "We're out of food and it's too dangerous to hunt this close to Logan's ranch. They're bound to hear the shots. We can't live on rabbit forever." Jeremiah made a disdainful gesture toward the remains of the animal he had been lucky enough to snare that morning.

"We could leave now if you had killed Logan when you had the chance," Ortega snarled, his thick lips curling in contempt.

Jeremiah fought down the swift wave of anger that threatened to cloud his judgment. Too much defensiveness would only convince Ortega that he was right. "I told you," he said calmly. "The old woman tricked me. She called out a warning and Logan got the drop on me. If Jose hadn't come in when he did and distracted him, I'd be dead now, too."

Ortega studied him with those hate-filled eyes, and Jeremiah forced himself to meet that gaze unflinchingly. Fearing that Ortega would challenge his story again, Jeremiah went on the offensive. "And what makes you think you can get to Logan with this crew?" he asked, making another disdainful gesture at the men gathered around the fire. One of them murmured incoherently in feverish delirium. Another favored a badly sprained leg. Even Ortega sported a bloody bandage on his forearm. Only Jeremiah had emerged from the attack unscathed, and that had won him Ortega's well-earned suspicions.

Ortega considered Jeremiah's question thoughtfully as he, too, studied what was left of his gang. "You're right," he said at last. "I have to go back to Mexico."

Jeremiah experienced a sense of profound relief. The only reason he had sought out this hidden camp after the fire- the camp he himself had located for Ortega's gang as their base of operations while they conducted their raids on the Rocking L Ranch-was because he wanted to be sure Ortega had given up his plans for revenge against Josh Logan. But Jeremiah's relief was short-lived.

"I will need more men to do what I have planned. Not many, just a few good men that I can trust," Ortega murmured thoughtfully. "Men who know how to treat a woman."

"A woman?" Jeremiah echoed in sudden alarm. "What woman? What exactly do you have planned?"

Ortega smiled, showing blackened teeth. "I cannot beat Logan in an open fight. I cannot even take enough of his cattle to hurt him. But I can take something more precious to him than any of his other possessions. I will take his wife."

"But she isn't here," Jeremiah protested, feeling a growing apprehension as he realized Ortega was deadly serious about this plan.

"She will return, sooner or later. I am a patient man. I can wait. When she comes, when I have found the right men, I will come back." His grin grew sly as he considered Jeremiah's reaction to his words. "Or maybe I do not need any other men. As I remember, you are a man who knows how to handle white women. Maybe I will just turn her over to you."

Felicity shivered slightly as she looked at the new barn in the golden glow of morning and tried to imagine the horror of that night when the old one had burned. Josh came up behind her on the porch and placed his hands on her shoulders in a comforting gesture. "The barn was old," he said. "We needed a new one anyway."

She turned to face him, searching his expression to discover his true emotions. Last night they had been so distracted by the intoxication of simply being together again, they had not discussed the other important things. "Blanche said Jeremiah saved your life."

Josh nodded grimly, remembering the events of that night all too clearly. "He killed one of his own men to save me and Candace. The really strange part was that he had come that night especially to kill me."

Felicity shuddered at the thought. "What happened to change his mind?" she asked, needing to hear all the details.

Josh led her over to the porch swing, where they sat down before he began telling her of the events of that night. Felicity held his hand tightly as he spoke, sharing his emotions as he relived the shock of the fire and the awful scene in the parlor. When he was finished, they sat in silent communion for a long moment before Felicity finally spoke.

"It's easy to understand why Jeremiah hated you so much. He must have felt that nobody loved him at all. But he was really a good man, deep down. He proved that when he saved your life and Candace's," she said, wiping away a tear and trying not to think how close death had come to her beloved.

"Yes," Josh agreed. "It's easy to see how he got mixed up with Ortega, but he proved what kind of a man he really is."

"What I simply can't believe is that your mother could do something so awful to an innocent boy. Poor Jeremiah," she said.

"She was a very selfish person. From what Jeremiah said, she must have been a little crazy, too. That's what Candace thinks, anyway. We talked about it afterward, and it's the only explanation that makes any sense."

Felicity nodded. "I just wish…"

"You wish what?" he asked when she did not finish the thought.

"I wish we could make it up to Jeremiah. I wish he could come and live here with us." She gave him an apologetic smile, certain that he would disapprove of her suggestion, but instead he smiled back, warmly and lovingly.

"I wish the same thing," he said, reaching up to stroke the soft curve of her cheek. How strange that they should both want the same thing for his half-brother. "Unfortunately, he's guilty of rustling, and he's still wanted for rape, even if he's innocent of that crime. If he stayed around here very long, he'd wind up on the end of a rope."

"It just doesn't seem very fair," Felicity said, nuzzling against his hand.

"Life is hardly ever fair," Josh said. "We just have to be grateful when we get a little lucky, the way you and I are right now," he added with another warm smile.

Felicity closed her eyes for a moment against the pure bliss his words brought her. They really were lucky, very lucky, when she considered what might have happened. And then she remembered someone else who had not been quite so fortunate. "How is Candace doing? She seemed fine last night but…"

"She keeps it all inside. Like I said, we talked some right after the fire, but not since. She never mentions Jeremiah's name."

"Then maybe I'd better go see her, and let her talk it out," Felicity said, remembering how often Candace had comforted her during difficult times. Reluctantly, she removed Joshua's hand from where it was still caressing her face. "She's helped me over a lot of rough spots. Now it's time I returned the favor."

Josh nodded his agreement as she rose from the swing and gave him a parting smile. He watched her moving away, enjoying the graceful sway of her body as she walked across the porch and back into the house to look for Candace. In those few seconds, he came to realize how much she had changed. The frightened girl he had found on the prairie was now a woman, a new woman, and he loved her in a new way. Last night, when they had come together in the heat of passion, had been wonderful, but strangely, this quiet time together had been equally satisfying.

He spent a few moments trying to decide why and came to the rather startling conclusion that he genuinely liked his wife, something he had never noticed before. He had always thought of her as a lover and a wife and sometimes even as a mother for his children, but never had he thought of her as a friend. The idea was intriguing, but perfectly logical when he gave it some thought. Who knew him better or understood him as well? To whom were his concerns more important? Who else could share both his sorrows and his happiness? And what other person had brought him more happiness? The word was the very meaning of her name. Josh smiled slowly as he recalled all the reasons why he had selected her as his bride. They had been the wrong reasons, but in his ignorance, he had made the right choice anyway. The innocent, frightened girl he had taken to wife was all grown up, molded by tragedies and hardships that might have destroyed someone else. She was everything he had always wanted, and he would cherish her as he had never cherished another person.

Josh glanced doubtfully at the letter Felicity had just given him to mail. "What makes you think Asa even wants to come back to Texas? He just spent over a year here, looking for you. I'll bet his saddle sores aren't even healed yet."

"He'll come," Felicity said confidently, "especially when he reads that letter."

"What on earth did you tell him, Mrs. Logan?" Josh asked, narrowing his eyes at her in an attempt at intimidation.

The attempt failed, as he had known it would. "I just hinted, ever so discreetly, that Blanche might look upon him favorably as a suitor," Felicity informed him, meeting his disapproving gaze squarely.

Josh resisted the urge to kiss that satisfied grin of hers into something far more interesting. But they were, after all, standing on the front porch of the ranch house, where anyone might see. Still, it was tempting, especially when he saw the silent invitation glittering in her blue eyes. The little vixen had developed into quite a temptress since her return. The past two weeks had been like a new beginning for them in which the sensual intoxication of their renewed intimacy was enhanced by the depth that tragedy and hardship had given their relationship.

If Josh had had his druthers, he would have spent every hour of every day in bed with Felicity, making love now and again but mostly just talking, exploring these new depths. He had confirmed his earlier theory that talking with her, sharing thoughts and dreams, worries and concerns, was actually another way of making love. And an equally satisfying way, too.

"Felicity," he said, giving her what he hoped was a chastening look, "did Blanche tell you to write to Asa?"

"Well, no," she admitted reluctantly.

"Did she tell you she wanted him to court her?"

"Not in so many words…"

"Felicity!" he said in exasperation. "You can't go meddling in other people's lives like this. What if Asa comes all the way back here, and Blanche won't have anything to do with him?"

"But she will," Felicity insisted. "The only reason she's mad at him right now is because he left her in the first place. If he comes back, everything will be just fine."

"Then let her tell him herself. You can't meddle-"

"Yes, I can," she said. "Blanche meddled in our lives, and just think what might have happened if she hadn't."

Josh frowned at the memory. "I would have come for you," he reminded her.

"Yes, but we would have lost a whole week together, and besides, things might have worked out differently if you'd come to Philadelphia spoiling for a fight." She crossed her arms in silent challenge. They had argued this point before, and he had conceded that she was probably right.

He did so now, but still, he fingered the envelope doubtfully. "I just hate for Asa to come all this way and be disappointed."

"He won't be," she promised, and then smiled lovingly up at him. "I came all this way and I wasn't disappointed a bit."

No longer able to resist the temptation, Joshua swooped down and planted a kiss on her perfect little mouth. When he let her go, she was blushing prettily.

"Mr. Logan, behave!" she said, giving him a playful swat. "You're making a spectacle of yourself."

"I'll do more than that if you don't stop flirting with me right out here in public," he threatened with a grin.

She dimpled. "I wasn't flirting!" she protested. "If you want to see flirting, I'll-"

"No, please!" he said, lifting his hands in mock surrender. "I'll wait until I get back from town and we're in a very private place. Then you can feel free to drive me absolutely crazy. Until then," he warned, grabbing her chin, "behave yourself!" He gave her another quick kiss and made a hasty escape to the horse that was waiting to take him to town.

Felicity watched him ride away, standing on the porch and waving until he was out of sight. Then she sighed and moved over to the porch swing, where she slumped down wearily. Closing her eyes, she fought the wave of fatigue that threatened to overwhelm her and considered the wisdom of taking a short nap before Joshua returned home.

In Philadelphia, she had blamed her lassitude on missing Joshua and on the late hours she and Richard had kept by attending parties and plays and social events. Hadn't Dr. Strong explained to her how the human mind could play tricks on the body? Her worry about Joshua and about Richard's unwanted attentions had worn her out physically. That was all there was to it.

Except her simple rationalization did not explain why she continued to be so tired now that she and Joshua were together again and everything was fine.

"Are you all right, Miss Felicity?" Candace's voice cut into her thoughts.

"Yes, I'm fine," Felicity said, managing to smile reassuringly at the black woman who had just come out onto the porch. She was glad to see Candace had regained her old spirit once Felicity had managed to convince her that Jeremiah no longer held her responsible for what had happened to him. The fact that he had saved her life and Joshua's proved it.

The old domineering Candace glared down at her now. Joshua Logan's mammy was not fooled by Felicity's protests that she felt fine. Candace shook her head and clucked her tongue disapprovingly. "That man's trying to wear you out. You ought to tell him 'no' once in a while. It wouldn't hurt him none," she advised.

Felicity smiled tiredly at Candace's tone. "You're right, Candace," Felicity said, eager to accept this explanation for her tiredness. She couldn't let herself consider any other possibilities, not when everything was going so well for her and Joshua. "And I think I will lie down for a while… just so I won't have to tell him 'no' tonight!" she added with a twinkle.

Asa Gordon had the oddest sensation of deja vu as he reined up in Blanche Delano's front yard. The only difference was that this time the flowerpots were full of lush greenery and vibrant color. And this time, instead of freezing, he was sweating, and not just from the late June heat, either.

How long had it been since he'd been this nervous over seeing a woman? Never, he admitted, realizing that no other woman's reaction had ever been quite so important to him. Would she be happy to see him, as Felicity had promised before he had left her house this morning, or would Blanche send him packing, as he so richly deserved? Taking a deep breath to control his anxiety, he called out.

"Hello, the house!"

Inside the ranch house, Blanche Delano shook her head, wondering if her ears could be playing tricks on her. Cautiously, not daring to hope, she moved toward the front door. She could see a man sitting a horse in her front yard. She told herself that he was probably a drifter looking for work. There must be hundreds of men built like Asa Gordon with deep baritone voices. But this man was dressed in a suit, as if he was going someplace very special. And then he lifted his hat to wipe the moisture from his brow, and she got a good look at his face. Her heart did a little flip-flop in her chest and her stomach seemed to drop all the way to her toes and bounce back up again. It was Asa! He had come to see her. But why?

The question echoed in her mind for a moment before she was able to get a grip on her emotions again. She was wasting time standing here wondering, she told herself sternly. She should go on out there and find out.

She opened the screen door carefully and stepped onto the porch. He seemed to stiffen at the sight of her, as if he, too, was wary.

"Well, hello, Mr. Gordon," she said, hoping her voice sounded more normal than she felt. "You're a long way from home. Not lost again, are you?"

Asa managed a smile, even though he felt as nervous as a schoolboy with his first girl. "I hope not."

Blanche hoped not, too, but she didn't say so. "I reckon you'd like to come in out of that hot sun. There's a nice shady spot here on the porch, if you'd like to join me," she said.

Asa almost sighed aloud, so great was his relief at the invitation. At least he would have a chance to plead his case. As he dismounted and tethered his horse at the hitching post in front of the house, Blanche called to her maid to bring them some lemonade.

Blanche was waiting for him when he climbed the steps to the porch. She was wearing a bright blue Mother Hubbard without corsets, in deference to the heat, and the sight of her unfettered figure made his mouth grow dry. He would be glad for some lemonade.

"What brings you back to Texas?" she asked, crossing her arms beneath the fullness of her bosom in a defensive gesture. She needed all the protection she could get from his potent male presence. For the second time in her life she felt weak and vulnerable and intensely feminine. It was a delicious sensation, but a dangerous one, too. She would have to be careful.

Asa stopped before her and removed his hat as he took in the smooth whiteness of her skin and the glossy ebony of her hair, but most of all the glittering emerald of her eyes. He considered telling her his real reason for coming but decided that could wait. Instead, he settled for a half truth. "The Logans invited me."

That surprised her and irritated her just a bit. To cover her reaction, she turned and led the way over to where two cushioned wicker chairs sat in a coolly shaded spot on the porch. Why hadn't Felicity told her they had invited him or at least warned her that he was coming? Surely she must have known.

"How long have you been here?" she asked, hiding her annoyance.

"Since last night," he said, watching closely for her reaction. He was not disappointed.

"Last night!" she repeated, both surprised and pleased. "You certainly didn't waste any time coming to call, did you?" she asked, glancing at the morning sun and thinking that it could not yet be nine o'clock.

Asa smiled, glad that he had impressed her. "I would have been here sooner, but I wanted to be sure you'd finished breakfast."

Blanche considered all the ramifications of this confession. "And now that you are here, maybe you'll tell me why you've come," she said, suddenly suspicious. Had Felicity sent him? And what was he up to?

Asa gave an inward sigh. This was it, his one remaining chance. If he ruined it, there would be no third opportunity. "I came to see if I could get you to understand why I had to lie to you about being Felicity's uncle. I know it's hard-"

But Blanche interrupted him with an impatient noise and a wave of her hand. "I already told you I forgive you for all that. I don't want to hear about it again. What I want to know is why you're here now."

Asa stared at her, momentarily nonplussed. He had planned it all out. He would ask her forgiveness. If she granted it, he would obtain her permission to call on her. After a suitable length of time, when he was more certain of her feelings for him, he would confess his own. Now she was insisting he bypass all the preliminaries and simply blurt out his intentions. He shifted uncomfortably in the chair. "I… I'd like to court you, Blanche."

She was instantly wary. Had he traveled ail this way with the express purpose of marrying her? This was too sudden and too drastic a move fora cautious man like Asa Gordon, a man who had spent his adult life carefully investigating every situation. "Why do you want to court me?" she demanded.

"Why?" he repeated incredulously, searching frantically for a respectable-sounding reason. He certainly couldn't afford to offend her at this point by telling her how he had been dreaming for months of having her in his bed, as his wife, for the rest of his life. "Well, you're a very attractive woman and-"

"What is it about me that you find attractive?" she challenged, sounding almost angry.

Puzzled, he swiftly considered all her many charms, trying to decide which ones to mention… and which ones he could mention. "Surely you must know how beautiful you are…" he tried.

"Is it my beautiful self that you want or my beautiful money?" she asked, no longer bothering to conceal her fury. Her money was the only thing she could think of that might have brought him back here so determined to win her hand. If he had felt some unrelenting passion, he never would have left in the first place. She could see Felicity's hand in this. The poor girl had probably been trying some matchmaking and had innocently let slip the information that had brought Mr. Gordon rushing back to Texas to plead his case.

Asa frowned. At last her animosity made sense, but it opened a whole new set of problems for him. "Are you very rich, Blanche?" he asked, dreading the answer.

"Don't you know? Surely Felicity told you all about me. Is that why you came, because you decided to try to catch yourself a rich widow?" Blanche knew her anger was out of proportion to the situation, but she could not seem to help herself. The thought that he had sensed her attraction to him and, learning about her financial status from Felicity, had decided to take advantage of it infuriated her.

"Then you are a rich widow," Asa said with genuine disappointment. "I've been afraid to ask. I was hoping that since your husband's death, you'd been just barely scraping by, holding this place together by the skin of your teeth. Maybe you'd even be happy for some help from an unemployed Pinkerton detective."

"Unemployed?" Blanche echoed.

Asa nodded resignedly. "I quit my job before coming here. That double-damns me, doesn't it?" He didn't bother to add that Allan Pinkerton would hire him back in a second. There was no use in making excuses. Blanche Delano was not a woman to be impressed by excuses. His best bet would be to beg her pardon yet again and make his escape while he still had a few shreds of dignity intact. But just as he opened his mouth to do so, a slender Mexican girl emerged from the house carrying a pitcher and two glasses.

"Our lemonade," Blanche announced, grateful for the interruption. At least she would have a few moments to collect her wits and analyze the things Asa had told her so far. She sat quietly as Maria poured their drinks, smiled tentatively at both of them, and then went back into the house. Asa drained his glass in one gulp.

"More?" Blanche asked, lifting the pitcher that Maria had left sitting on the small wicker table that stood between the two chairs.

When Asa extended his glass for her to fill, she noticed the slightest tremor in his hand. Instantly her gaze flew to his face. She had been studying men's faces all her life, reading their thoughts and their intentions. It was the only way she had been able to survive in a man's world. What she saw now in Asa's face was not what she would have expected from a determined fortune hunter.

He looked positively vulnerable. And discouraged, too, as if her accusations had ruined his plan. But if his plan had been to win her fortune, such a setback would not have mattered. A veteran charmer like Asa Gordon would simply overwhelm her with flattery and make her feel so desirable that she would forget all her doubts. Why wasn't he doing that?

The answer came to her in a blinding flash of insight. For the first time in his life, Asa Gordon was trying to be honest. The trouble was, he was so used to lying that he didn't quite know how to go about being honest without ruining everything. It was only a theory, of course, so Blanche decided to test it.

"I'm not really the fine lady that you think I am," she began, filling his glass and setting the pitcher down again.

A little disoriented by the sudden shift in subject, Asa said, "You're not?" for lack of a better response.

"No, I'm not. You see, I was raised in a whorehouse." Blanche waited for his reaction, but it was not the one she expected.

"So was I," he said.

What was it she saw in his eyes? Pity? No, empathy. He was not lying. He really understood. "But it's different for a girl," she continued relentlessly. "When you got old enough, you left. When I got old enough, my mother turned me out to whore, too. That's what I was when Sam Delano found me."

For an instant real pain flickered across Asa's face, pain for what she must have endured, but his expression quickly changed to suspicion. "Why are you telling me all this?" he demanded.

Blanche did not deign to reply. She simply gave him a moment to reach his own conclusions.

The process took only seconds. "Are you trying to put me off? Did you think I wouldn't want you if I knew?" he asked, suddenly furious. He slammed his glass down on the wicker table, making it tremble.

Blanche was unmoved. "Of course, enough money can help a man forget a lot of things," she remarked.

Asa swore and lunged to his feet. "I wouldn't care if you'd slept with half the men in Texas and didn't have a dime to your name," he informed her, wagging a large index finger under her nose. "And if you think for one minute you can scare me off…"

He stopped as he suddenly realized he was shouting threats at the woman he had come to woo. He lifted the hand he had been wagging in her face and used it to cover his own for a few seconds while he regained his control. He swore again, this time in despair. Now he had ruined everything. She would send him packing for sure. But to his infinite surprise, when he lowered his hand, she was smiling.

Blanche rose slowly, savoring this glorious moment, certain that she would never again see Asa Gordon quite so unsure of himself. "All right," she said cheerfully.

Asa blinked in confusion. "All right what?"

"All right, you can court me," she explained, still smiling. "But only if you don't take too long about it."

Asa opened his mouth and closed it, speechless for once. Finally, he managed to ask, "What made you change your mind?"

"I never changed my mind. I always wanted you to court me. In fact," she added, tipping her head coyly, as if to examine him from another angle, "I decided you were the man for me the minute I laid eyes on you."

Asa stared down at her for a long moment, not quite able to believe his ears but unable to doubt the sincerity he saw shining in her emerald eyes. Still, one thing did not quite make sense. "Then why did you act like you couldn't stand the sight of me?"

Blanche batted her eyes at him. "Because you were acting like a damn fool and I couldn't stand the sight of you. I thought you weren't going to apologize, that you really didn't understand how you had hurt me with your story about being Felicity's uncle."

"But I did apologize!" he protested.

"Yes, at the very last minute, and then you ran off and jumped on a train-" "I did not run off-"

"You most certainly did-"

"Blanche!" Asa said in exasperation. "Can we stop fighting for just a minute?"

"Why?" she challenged.

"Because I want to get started with my courting. You said you didn't want me to waste any more time."

"Well, all right," she allowed generously. "What would you like to do first?"

"This," he said, and wasting no more time, he took her in his arms and kissed her thoroughly.

The kiss was everything she had imagined it would be and more. When they were both breathless and clinging, he lifted his mouth from hers and gave her a shaky grin. "We can't keep this up on the front porch. Somebody will see us."

"Maybe we'd better go inside, then," she said with a provocative smile, "where we'll have lots of privacy."

But instead of eagerly agreeing, as she had expected, he frowned in disapproval. "Blanche, you hardly know me. Maybe we ought to take this a little slower…"

"Are you sure you want to?" she asked, teasing her body against the very obvious evidence of his arousal.

"No, I don't," he admitted hoarsely, "but I'm not the one who might be making a mistake."

"I'm not making a mistake," she assured him, pulling out of his embrace and taking his hand to draw him into the house. "And as for getting to know you, by the time this day is over, I think I'll know everything I need to."

Asa and Blanche's wedding was even more lavish than Josh and Felicity's had been, and certainly better attended. Everyone who had so much as heard of the Widow Delano wanted to see the mysterious Yankee who had finally won her heart. Even the scorching July heat did not keep anyone away.

As the resident photographer, Felicity had captured the event in a series of memorable pictures and a few that were best forgotten. Within the confines of the wagon/darkroom, she and Cody had decided that drunken cowboys should never be allowed to pose for photographs. But in spite of the trials, Felicity had thoroughly enjoyed the opportunity to practice her craft once again. She was even more disappointed than her subjects when the sun slipped too low in the sky to allow any more photographs.

"Just look at the two of them, Joshua," Felicity demanded that evening as they and all the other guests watched a beaming Asa guiding a radiant Blanche around the makeshift dance floor for the first dance. "See, I told you everything would work out if we could manage to get Asa here."

Josh gave her a resigned look. "You mean, if you could manage to get him here," he corrected.

She grinned up at him, unrepentant. "I did sign your name to the letter, too."

Then it was time for the best man and the matron of honor to join the bride and groom on the dance floor, so Josh took his wife in his arms and whirled her around to the music. After a few minutes, they were both damp from the exertion.

"I feel sorry for Asa," Josh remarked, looking up at the dark canopy of July sky. "It's awful hot for a wedding night."

"Mr. Logan!" Felicity cried, pretending to be shocked, but then she added wickedly, "I didn't think it ever got too hot for you."

"Mrs. Logan!" he cried right back, mocking her. But his expression quickly softened into a wondering smile. "You've certainly changed since you've been back from Philadelphia. The little girl I married would never have said a thing like that."

The training of a lifetime nudged at Felicity's conscience, and she found herself wanting to apologize for shocking him. Except that she hadn't shocked him, not really, nor had she displeased him. In fact, he was enjoying her, just the way he had been enjoying her-her, the new Felicity, and not the "little girl" he had married-ever since her return. But still, she had a few doubts.

"Joshua, do you ever… do you ever wish you had that little girl back?" she asked, feeling a slight apprehension over what his answer might be. After all, he had chosen that girl to be his wife, and he had grown to love her. Perhaps he preferred her meekness.

Josh frowned, sensing her genuine concern. "I still have her," he said. "You aren't so very different than you were before. I didn't mean to make it sound that way."

Without realizing it, they had stopped dancing and stood still in the middle of the floor while the other couples swirled around them.

"Come on," Josh said, suddenly noticing that they were presenting an obstacle to the gaiety. He took her hand and led her away from the crowd to a more secluded spot on the other side of Blanche's house. When they were alone, with the sound of the party only a dull roar, Josh turned her to face him and gently placed his hands on her shoulders. "Is something wrong?" he asked, not liking the worried frown that marred her perfect features.

Felicity hesitated a moment, not even certain if she could put her concerns into words that he could understand. "I found out something in Philadelphia, something about my mother, that I didn't understand," she said at last.

"What was it?" Josh asked, suddenly alarmed. God knew, he had learned more about his own mother than any child should have to know. But surely there were no ugly secrets about Claire Maxwell Storm.

"I found out that she was… that she was very different than the way my father had always described her to me," Felicity began.

"You don't remember her at all?" he asked.

Felicity shook her head. "Only vaguely. She was good and kind and soft and she smelled nice, but that's all. I don't even remember her face. But Papa always told me that she was a perfect lady, that she never raised her voice or did anything unseemly or shocking. He made her sound like a saint, and he wanted me to be just like her. But Joshua," Felicity said, her eyes wide with wonder, "she wasn't like that at all."

"Then what was she like?" Josh asked, still unable to understand her concern.

"Aunt Isabel said she was wild, that she said whatever she thought and that she wasn't afraid of anything or anybody," Felicity explained.

Josh smiled, thinking that he was beginning to understand. "Maybe it just seemed that way to Isabel because she's such a frightened little mouse."

"No, that's what I thought, too, at first, but Grandfather said the same thing. If he thought she was outspoken and rebellious, she must have been. And don't forget, she had the courage to defy Henry Maxwell and run off with a penniless nobody. The woman my father described to me would never have done something like that! Why did my father lie to me, Joshua?"

Felicity watched his face as he considered the answer to her question, a question that had haunted her for months, ever since she had learned the truth about her mother.

"He told you that your mother was like Isabel," Josh murmured, thinking aloud. "And he wanted you to be just like her, and not like your mother… That's it! He wanted you to be like Isabel," he concluded.

"But why?" Felicity asked, more puzzled than ever.

"It's simple," Josh explained. "Twenty years ago, your mother defied her father and ran away, never to be seen again. Twenty years later, Isabel is still by her father's side. When your mother died, you were all your father had left, and he wanted to keep you. He saw that you were like your mother, or at least enough like her to frighten him, so he tried to change you, to mold you into the obedient daughter who would stay with him."

Felicity mulled this over. "And that's why he never wanted me to talk to strangers, especially young men," she realized.

"And why he made you dress like a child. At first even I didn't realize how old you were. Remember?"

Felicity nodded. "Oh, Joshua, how foolish of him! I would never have done what my mother did."

"But he couldn't have known that. And neither can you. Who's to say what anyone will do when they're desperate?" As if he also was desperate, Josh drew Felicity into his arms and held her tightly against his chest. Suddenly he realized that he might have been speaking of his own mother. Once she, too, had faced a situation with which she could no longer deal, and she had run away, leaving behind her husband and her son. Although he would never be able to forgive her that or the evil she had done since, he could at least understand.

Felicity clung to him, grateful for the security of his arms and for the way he had helped her understand this final mystery about her family. As she considered his words, she wondered what she herself would have done if she had met Joshua while her father was still alive. Would they have fallen in love? Would she have been forced to forsake her father for Joshua the way her mother had done for her father? Glad that she would never have to make that decision, she gave her husband one last hug and drew reluctantly away.

"We'd better get back before we're missed," she said with a smile. "We don't want people thinking we sneaked off alone together."

"No, we don't want that," Josh agreed, grinning. "How scandalized they'd all be, an old married couple like us. But we will sneak away later, after Asa and Blanche disappear," he warned, leaning over to give her a lingering kiss full of promise.

When he lifted his lips from hers, she gazed up at him, wide-eyed. "I thought it was too hot for you, Mr. Logan," she said with false innocence.

He gave her a comic leer. "If you think it's hot now, just wait until later."

As they wandered back toward the celebration, hand in hand, Felicity allowed herself a moment of pure bliss unmarred by the worry that had continued to plague her for the past weeks. Although the preparations for Blanche's wedding had taken up most of her time, she still found herself counting the days and the weeks and the months.

The fatigue she had suffered no longer bothered her. In fact, she now felt better than she had in months. Even Blanche had commented on how well she looked when she had arrived to help dress the bride this morning. And Joshua had commented just last night that she seemed to be gaining weight… in all the right places.

Had his gray eyes been clouded with an unasked question? Did he share her suspicions, her fears? And if he did, why hadn't he said something to her? Probably for the same reason she had said nothing to him either. They were afraid. They were both afraid of even asking that question, as if to voice it might make it true.

But it couldn't be true, she reminded herself. She and Joshua had been so careful, following Dr. Strong's instructions to the letter.

"What are you thinking about?" Joshua asked, interrupting her thoughts. His handsome face reflected the concern in his voice.

Did her fear show? Could he sense it? She forced a smile to her lips. "I was just thinking about the heat," she lied.

"What do you hear from Philadelphia?" Asa asked Felicity one Sunday afternoon six weeks later. He and Blanche had just returned from their honeymoon and had come to tell the Logans all about their trip. The newlyweds exuded the unmistakable aura of two people who had discovered complete happiness at last.

Had she and Joshua once looked like that? Of course they had, she reminded herself, and not so very long ago, either. But in the weeks since Blanche's wedding, their relationship had grown gradually more strained as the weight of Felicity's secret seemed to crush her heart. She found herself short-tempered with Joshua as her fears threatened to overwhelm her.

Felicity felt like wincing when she saw the private, bedroom smiles that Asa and Blanche shared, smiles that no longer passed between her and Joshua. Now he rarely smiled at her at all. His gray eyes simply watched her in silent accusation.

"Felicity?" Josh prompted, frowning. "Asa asked you a question."

"What?" she said, momentarily flustered.

Asa smiled apologetically. They were all seated in the cool dimness of the parlor, which was shuttered against the late August heat. "I asked if you had heard from your grandfather lately."

"Oh yes," she hastily replied. "He writes to me quite often."

"He wants to be sure she knows how much attention her photographs are getting at the Exposition," Josh said, and Felicity thought she heard an accusation in his voice, too.

"It's only because I'm a woman," she explained, as much to Joshua as to Blanche and Asa. "There are thousands of photographs on display that are much better than mine, I'm sure."

"Don't be so modest, Felicity," Blanche chided. "You're a very talented photographer. Those pictures you took at our wedding are wonderful!"

"Her grandfather thinks she should return to Philadelphia and set up a studio," Joshua reported grimly. "People are clamoring to have their portraits made by her."

Asa and Blanche exchanged a look, silently informing each other that they now understood the reason for the tension they both sensed between their two friends. Josh must be disturbed over this invitation. Probably they had even argued over it.

Josh saw the look and decided it was just as well they thought that. He didn't want them to know the real reason he was so troubled. He didn't even want to know that reason himself.

Alarmed by all the undercurrents swarming in the room, Felicity rose abruptly. "Would you care for something cool to drink?" she asked.

"I'll help you," Blanche offered, rising also and following Felicity from the room.

Josh watched them go, studying Felicity's slender figure, a figure that was not as slender as it had been just a few weeks earlier. He knew she was pregnant, and the knowledge chilled his soul even as the twin maggots of guilt and fear ate away at him.

But what disturbed him even more was the fact that she hadn't told him. How long was she going to wait? Did she think he was bund? Or stupid? She hadn't bled once in the three months since she had been back. Soon even total strangers would be able to tell her condition just by looking at her. And he had given her plenty of opportunities, commenting on the changes in her figure, inquiring about her health. But she had ignored them all and kept her secret.

Why? The question was like a canker in his heart, because he could think of only one answer. There was something suspicious about the pregnancy. He had tried not to believe it, tried to deny even the possibility, but the evidence was too real to ignore. She must have conceived the child in Philadelphia for her to be so far along. That much was certain. He also knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that something had happened between Felicity and Richard, something she did not want to discuss or even think about.

At first her letters had been full of Richard this and Richard that. Then her letters had stopped entirely. Since she had come home, she hardly even spoke her cousin's name, and when Josh brought him up, she changed the subject, unable to hide her distress over discussing him.

Could the son of a bitch have raped her? Josh found that difficult to believe. Richard was not a man to resort to force. No, more likely he would have used seduction. The thought infuriated Josh beyond all reason, especially when he realized how he had paved the way for such an act by not writing to his wife while they were separated. Had she been seduced? Was that why she was ashamed? Was that why she hid her pregnancy, because the fatherhood was in doubt?

"Josh? Is something wrong?" Asa asked.

Josh jerked his attention back to the present, surprised to find that his hands were clenched into fists, fists that ached to choke the life out of Richard Winthrop. "No, of course not," Josh replied, forcing his body to relax. "What were you saying?"

"I was just asking if you'd heard anything more about that Mexican, Ortega?"

"No, no, I haven't," Josh replied, glad for a subject to take his mind off Felicity. "The last word was that he'd gone back to Mexico."

Out in the kitchen, Felicity gave Blanche a cup of lemonade to taste. "Is that sweet enough?"

Blanche tasted the golden liquid and nodded. "Just fine," she said with a beatific smile.

Felicity considered that smile, having noticed it earlier. In fact, Blanche had been grinning like a cat with its head in the cream pitcher since the moment she had arrived. "Married life certainly agrees with you," Felicity remarked with an understanding smile.

"Asa agrees with me," Blanche corrected. "Oh, we fight now and again. I guess we always will, but that just makes the good times better."

Felicity murmured her agreement, trying to recall the last time she and Joshua had argued. Not for weeks, she realized. Lately they tippy-toed around each other as if afraid of causing offense. No, she mentally corrected, as if one harsh word might explode the tension that quivered between them. Felicity was terrified to discover what damage such an explosion would cause.

"Felicity," Blanche said, interrupting these disturbing thoughts. "There's something… Oh, I know it's early days yet and I probably shouldn't say anything at all, but I think… I might be in a family way."

"Oh, Blanche!" Felicity cried, flinging her arms around her friend and fighting back the tears that threatened. Joy for Blanche and the pain of her own personal agony warred for predominance. She concentrated on Blanche. "You can't be very far along," Felicity judged when she and Blanche parted.

Blanche shook her head. "I've missed one month and I'm late on the second."

"But you've only been married for six weeks," Felicity reminded her with a teasing smile.

Blanche shrugged her indifference. "We got an early start."

"Oh, Blanche! What a scandal you'll cause," Felicity chided happily.

"I know," Blanche replied with a twinkle. "Isn't it delicious? And at my age, too!" But her smile suddenly faded. "I was afraid maybe I was too old at all: I'm almost thirty, you know."

"And how does Asa feel about having a little 'proof of affection'?" Felicity asked, using a popular euphemism.

"Well," Blanche admitted, "we haven't actually talked about it, although I think he suspects. A few days ago he asked me if I had already gone through the change. I guess he finally noticed that nothing had happened. When I assured him that I hadn't, he gave me a funny look, but he didn't ask any other questions. I'm just as glad he didn't. Maybe I'm superstitious, but I'm afraid to talk about it yet. Does that make any sense?"

"Oh yes, it does," Felicity replied, understanding only too well.

That night, as Felicity lay beside Joshua in the dark, she felt the familiar flutter of life within her womb. Instinctively her hand went to cover it, to cherish it. She had come to terms with her condition weeks ago. Why, then, did she still refuse to speak of it to Joshua? Perhaps because she was just as superstitious as Blanche. To speak of something so dangerous yet so desired was to invite the demons of destruction to do their work. To acknowledge her secret to Joshua would mean that she would have to face her fears and discuss them. How could she bear it if this child died, too? And she would have to consider the possibility of her own death and the effect it would have on Joshua. And how would he react? She had made him a promise, and she had broken that promise. Would he be angry? Would he hate her?

But he would be afraid, too, afraid of losing her. She was already so frightened herself that she wasn't certain she could deal with his fear, too. If they were both afraid, who would be strong? She did not have an answer, and she had asked the question so many times, she was no longer certain there even was one.

And she was a fool to think that her condition was a secret. Joshua knew; he must know. How many times had he asked her leading questions, that silent accusation darkening his eyes? But still she had not been able to speak of it. She was certain that to speak aloud the truth that they both knew was to invite disaster. To admit the existence of their child meant they would then have to plan for an event that terrified her. The very thought made her tremble.

But time was running out. Soon others would notice her pregnancy and comment on it. She was surprised Blanche hadn't mentioned it today. Luckily, her friend had been too concerned with her own joy to notice anything else.

Felicity turned her head on the pillow, listening to Joshua's breathing. He was not asleep. She could tell him right now. She should tell him right now. She opened her mouth, but no words came.

Josh lay in the darkness, listening to her tiny movements. Why didn't she speak? Why didn't she tell him? She must know that he already knew. Was she afraid he would count on his fingers and figure out that he was not the father?

And was that why she had come home, why she had been so eager to be the perfect wife and lover, so she could pass Winthrop's bastard off as his child? Why then had she brought the sheaths if she was already pregnant? Because, the cold voice of reason replied, she knew you would never make love to her unless you thought she was safe. Now she can claim a failure in Dr. Strong's devices.

As furious as such thoughts made him, as agonizing as the thought of Felicity with Winthrop was, Josh nursed yet another, even more horrible thought. Some small part of him wanted the child to be Winthrop's bastard because he knew that if the child was his, Felicity might die. Her death was a burden he did not know if he could bear.

Never to see her, never to hold her again. How would he live? In his pain, he reached for her, drawing her close in an almost desperate embrace. His mouth found hers, and her eager response stirred other, equally desperate emotions.

Swiftly, he removed her nightdress. Their bodies were already damp from the sultry August night, and his hands glided over the moist satin of her skin, tracing the swells and valleys of her body. His own need was fierce, born not of passion but of the desire to reassert his claim-on her body and her love.

Felicity welcomed his ferocity, needing to feel his strength, hoping that it would renew her own. She clung to him feverishly, meeting him kiss for kiss, until her blood roared in her ears.

Then, suddenly, he pulled away. "I'll be right back," he said, using the phrase that told her he was going to reach into the drawer of the bedside table.

"No, don't," she said, unwilling to let him go, unwilling to let the charade go on a moment longer. She felt his body grow tense.

"What?" he asked hoarsely.

"I said, don't go. You don't need those things," Felicity said, her own voice hoarse, and quivery with the strain of confession.

At last, Josh thought, relief and dread flooding through him. "Why not?"

"I… because… you know why not!" she cried in frustration, angry that he would make her say the words when he must know as well as she did.

"Yes, I know," he said, slumping wearily back against the pillows, the heat of his passion rapidly cooling. "There's no use closing the barn door after the horse is gone."

Stung by the bitterness in his voice, Felicity drew away from him, wishing she could see his expression. He didn't sound angry, but she feared this cold cynicism even more.

"Why did you finally decide to tell me?" he asked tonelessly. "Did Blanche figure it out today? Were you afraid other people would start to notice, too?"

"No! She didn't… That isn't why!" Felicity insisted.

"Then why?"

Felicity shivered in spite of the torpid heat of the room. "I was afraid to tell you…" she began, wondering how she could make him understand.

"Afraid?" Josh pounced on the word, a confirmation of his worst nightmares. "Why were you afraid?" he demanded, sitting up so that he loomed over her in the darkness. "Were you afraid that I'd figure out I wasn't the father?"

"What!" Felicity cried in horror. She couldn't have heard him right. This couldn't be happening. She must be having a nightmare.

"I hope you made Winthrop work for it," Josh said, his hate and bitterness pouring out in a flood he was unable to stop. "A man appreciates a woman a lot more if she keeps him guessing a while."

Felicity made an anguished sound as his words hit her with the force of a body blow. "You can't think…" she whispered.

"What else am I supposed to think? You show up on my doorstep out of a clear blue sky, all ready to forgive and forget all my past 'sins.' Then I realize you're pregnant, except you don't say a word to me about it, even when I practically beg you to. Is that why you came back? So you wouldn't have a baby ten months after your husband left you?"

"NO!" she screamed as sobs wracked her body. As much as she had feared his reaction, she had never expected. anything so ugly as these absurd accusations. She hugged herself against the agony.

Hearing her sobs, Josh cursed, turning away from her and fumbling to light the lamp. He had to see her. He told himself that by seeing her, he would be able to see the truth.

Felicity started at the flare of the match, glancing up to see Josh's powerful body outlined in the golden glow of the flame. Through the haze of her tears, she saw him turn and rake her nakedness with a merciless stare. Defensively, she snatched up the sheet that lay tangled at the foot of the bed and covered herself.

"Did you think I wouldn't notice?" he asked, contemptuous of her effort to hide herself. "I know your body as well as I know my own. I knew right away, as soon as you came back, that something was different, but I wouldn't let myself believe it, not at first. And then you wouldn't mention Winthrop's name. Every time I did, you turned white, and pretty soon, I figured it out."

"You can't believe that, Joshua!" Felicity sobbed, struggling to a sitting position. "You can't believe that I'd be unfaithful to you!"

The question was like a knife in his heart, and in self-defense, he lashed out at her. "What else am I supposed to think? What else could have happened between you and Winthrop to upset you so much?"

"He…" Felicity began, scrubbing the tears from her face and choking back her sobs. She had to make him believe her. "He kissed me and… he asked me to marry him."

Joshua's face twisted in rage. "Marry you? I hope you reminded him that you're already married!"

"Of course I did!" Felicity replied, equally angry. "And that's when I decided I had to come home."

"When you realized you were pregnant," he accused.

"No! I didn't know it then!"

"Are you trying to pretend you got pregnant after you came home?" he challenged. "That's a little hard to believe when I've been so careful…"

"You weren't careful that last night in Philadelphia!" she cried, twisting the knife in his heart.

The agony of the truth made him shudder. That was it, the thing he feared most, even more than the thought that she had betrayed him. He could forgive such a betrayal far more easily than he could forgive himself for placing her in so much danger.

"Oh, Lissy, I'm so sorry " he said, his voice an agonized whisper as he drew her into his arms. He held her rigid body against his chest, soothing her with his hands, and murmuring his broken explanations into the soft cloud of her golden hair. "I never really thought… about Winthrop… Please forgive me… I just couldn't… I know you'd never… I'm sorry…"

But she didn't believe him. The pain of his accusations still throbbed in her heart. How could he have said those things if he didn't think they were true? And how could he have said those things to her at all if he really loved her?

Gently, he lowered her back against the pillows, tenderly kissing away her tears. His hands continued to soothe her, stroking aside the sheet to caress her, and soon he was making love to her. He was infinitely patient and careful, worshiping her body with his own, but she could not respond. Her heart was frozen in her chest, freezing all her emotions. In spite of his persistent urgings, she lay unmoving beneath him. Afterward, he held her, pulling her close with a strangled moan that told her he knew the harm he had caused.

But he did not speak of it. To speak of it was to admit the depth of their pain, so neither of them spoke of it, not that night, nor the next day nor the next. Felicity had feared childbirth, had feared the death of her baby, had feared Joshua's anger and his fear, but nothing had prepared her for this cold emptiness that now pervaded her life.

The love she had been so certain of, the love that had sustained her, Joshua's love, had died. She no longer saw even a spark of it when he looked at her, his gray eyes dark and shadowed. And when he told her his plans, she was certain she had lost him.

"Felicity," he said to her a few days later, "I think you should go back to Philadelphia."