Bushedwhacked Bride (37 page)

Jessica sobbed, her tight tissues throbbing at the unex
pected, unyielding pressure, then giving way to a hot
flood of pleasure.

“You like that, eh?”

She nodded, shivered, and bit her hand.

“Scoot a little closer.”

She froze.

“Don’t just go wide-eyed on me. Do it.”

She slid downward, and his fingers invaded more
deeply. Shudders of ecstasy shook her.

“What pleasures you the most?” he asked. “What’s
your hottest spot, sugar?” He pressed even deeper, until she squirmed, then pushed upward.

Cole soon had his answer as she cried out. Kissing her all the while, he stroked the spot relentlessly. She panted and moved against his hand. But just as she was about to
climax, there came a knock at the door.

Jessica panicked and tried to push Cole’s hand away.
He refused to budge, shooting her a warning glance and whispering fiercely, “No!”

“But there’s someone outside!” she whispered.

Cole only grinned, even as an annoyed male voice out
in the hallway inquired, “Is someone in there?”

“Yeah!” Cole yelled back irritably. “It’s occupied. Get
lost.” He turned back to Jessica. “Now let me see your pleasure.”

Though his words excited her wildly, she was equally
horrified. “Have you lost your mind? There’s a
man
outside!”

“There’s a man in here, and he’s gonna have his way
with you,” Cole retorted stubbornly. “Now start moving,
woman.”

About to die from mingled mortification and passion, Jessica realized it was futile to argue further with her determined lover. She moved tentatively against Cole’s fin
gers. With a groan, he leaned over and took her mouth
with a French kiss while boldly twisting his fingers. She
lost all control, whimpering, moving frenziedly, suc
cumbing to an ecstasy she’d never known before.

Seconds later, he pulled back, smiling into her dazed,
breathless face. “How ‘bout that?”

“Wonderful,” she gasped. “But please, let’s go.”

“Nope,” he replied proudly. “My turn now.”

“Cole!”

If he had ever doubted he would linger to take his own
pleasure, the scandalized look on Jessie’s face convinced Cole he would stay. How he loved making her blush and squirm. Watching her take her pleasure had touched him
deeply. He stood and quickly stripped off his clothing. Excitement stormed through him anew as he caught her
eyeing him, her gaze riveted on his swollen shaft. “You
want it, sugar?”

“Oh, yes.”

He stepped closer to the tub. “Then prove it.”

Her sexy, glistening flesh had never looked more en
chanting as she rose to her knees. When her face moved
close to his manhood, when he could feel her warm breath
on his throbbing flesh, he thought he might explode then
and there. Then her hot, delicate tongue contacted the sen
sitive tip of the shaft, and the pleasure all but staggered him. At once her arms came up around him and her slick fingers dug into his butt, nestling him closer.

“My God,” he groaned.

“Your turn to be tortured, cowboy,” she whispered back.

So the lady had a few tricks in store for him, too. It
was, indeed, torture. Cole thought he might die as Jessica
teased him, drawing her tongue over him in tormenting circles. He breathed hard, his manhood now so engorged
it hurt. Then her hot mouth closed over him and she
sucked him in.

Cole clenched his eyes shut and struggled to hold on to
what remained of his control. Her mouth was sweet, her
tongue downright sinful. She drew him in deeper . . .

That did it. In a flash Cole was beside her in the tub,
drawing her astride him, then thrusting powerfully. She
was burning inside, tight and slick. She cried out softly and he clutched her close. “My Lord, sugar, am I hurting you?”

“In the best possible way,” she sobbed back.

Cole’s control was beyond him now, and he plundered
her slender body, losing himself in decadent bliss. She
was so eager, welcoming his deep thrusts, kissing him all over, whimpering softly, and his heart was bursting at her sweet, trusting surrender. Their coupling was fierce, near-violent, hot, wet, splashy. Within seconds they exploded
together, shuddering and clinging to one another.

At last they pulled apart to stare at each other in awe,
their bodies still tightly locked.

Cole gently stroked her cheek. “Sugar, are you all
right?”

Her smile lit his soul. “I’m wonderful.”

“Oh, Jessie.” Bursting with emotion, he leaned over
and tenderly kissed her. “I love you, sugar.”

Tears spilled from her eyes. “I love you, too, Cole.”

“Oh, honey.” Deeply touched by her words, he looked
down at her face, then brushed a tear from her cheek.
“What’s this? Don’t cry.”

“They’re tears of joy.”

Cole snuggled her close again, his arms trembling at
the feel of her firm, slick breasts against his chest. “I
know what you mean, sugar. I’m about ready to bust out crying myself.”

She nestled her head under his chin and sighed happily.

They held each other for a long, languid moment; then
he glanced about and spotted the floor. “Damn, sugar,
look at all that water. Did we make a mess!”

“Do you suppose the gentleman is still waiting outside?”

“Naw—but we’d best clear out, anyway.”

They quickly dried each other off, emptied out the bath,
donned their dressing gowns, mopped up the floor as best they could, and grabbed their things. But when they
stepped outside, both did a double take; Jessica was ap
palled to note that they had drawn a crowd! A small con
tingent of guests stood in line waiting for the bath—and all
were glowering at them in fierce disapproval. The contin
gent included an elderly gentleman in brocaded dressing
gown, an old woman with a pince-nez, and a young train
engineer still in his uniform.

Jessica blushed to the roots of her hair.

Cole merely grinned. “Sorry to keeping you waiting,
folks, but the lady had some difficulty with her bath—
you know, getting the stopper out.”

Ignoring outraged comments and Jessica’s horrified look, Cole grabbed her hand and pulled her away with
him, laughing all the while.

***

Later, lying with Cole in the darkness, Jessica whispered,
“Do you really mean what you said, Cole? Do you really
love me?”

“God, yes, sugar.” He kissed her brow. “In fact, when
we get back, I’m only going to give you a few more days
to adjust. Then we’re getting hitched—even if I have to
drag you to the altar.”

Thrilled but also taken aback, she asked, “Does that
mean you’re willing to give up your outlaw ways?”

“
Yep. I’m willing to do whatever it takes.”

Rapt with new hope, she asked, “And you’ll share with me—everything?”

“Yes. But you have to share with me, too.”

Quietly, she asked, “Will you try to believe me, Cole?”

He sighed in the darkness. “I’ll try, honey. But I won’t
ever let you go.”

Tears burned Jessica’s eyes again. “Please don’t ever
let me, go, Cole. Please don’t—”

Jessica couldn’t say the rest, didn’t need to. Cole was
kissing her again.

Chapter Thirty-three

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The next morning, Cole brought the
Chronicle
in to Jes
sica with her breakfast tray. Setting the tray on her lap,
he winked. “Well, you won, darlin’. Look at page
three.”

Jessica squealed with joy and tore open the paper. She
found the small article and quickly read it:

Are the
Aspen
Gulch Mines Safe?
E. J. Battle, Editor

Miss Jessica Garrett, a visitor from Mariposa, has
complained to the
Chronicle
regarding what she
calls “deplorable” conditions at the Aspen Gulch
Mines, owned by the Springs’s own Elijah Miser and his Aspen Gulch Consortium. Miss Garrett
claims that the entire eastern operation of the mine
is on the verge of a major collapse, yet the consortium continues drilling.
Is Miss Garrett an alarmist, or are conditions at the mines truly as dangerous as she claims? The
Chron
icle
intends to dispatch a reporter to the Mariposa
area forthwith to investigate this troubling matter.

Finishing the article, Jessica clapped her hands. “Yes!”

“You’re pleased?” Cole asked.

“Well, it could have been a little stronger, though I can
understand
Battle
’s taking a cautious approach at this
stage. Still, it should be enough to wake up Miser.”

“And how,” Cole agreed. “Want to stick around till he
comes storming over here—or telephones?”

“Of course not. I want to go out and have some fun.”

“But what if he calls?”

“Let him sweat it. The hotel can take a message.”

“Hardball, eh?” he teased.

“Yep. Hardball.”

He reached out, toying with one of her curls. “I might
just want to play a little
hardball
myself.”

She smirked. “You already have.”

***

They had great fun about town. They shopped and rode a
horse-drawn trolley; at noontime, they had the blue plate
special at a local drugstore.

Afterward, they retrieved the horses and carriage from
the hotel stable and took a drive. As they ambled down a
shady street lined with lovely birches and huge Victorian
mansions, Cole pointed ahead at a massive stone house with wraparound verandas on both stories and towers at the ends. The handsome front door sported leaded-glass
panels; a uniformed maid was sweeping the gallery, while
out in the yard, a man was clipping the impeccable
hedges.

“That’s where Miser lives,” he stated.

“Oh!” Jessica gasped. “Talk about conspicuous consumption! That’s a house built on the misery of others.”

“You said it, darlin’.”

She sighed. “Let’s go back to the hotel. Seeing that
house just spoiled my day.”

When they walked back inside the lobby of the Antlers,
it was to face a flustered desk clerk. “Miss Garrett, thank
God you’ve returned.”

“Something wrong?” she asked.

“Heavens, yes. First, Mr. Battle came charging down
here this morning, ranting that Mr. Elijah Miser has threat
ened to ruin him and it’s all your fault.” Lowering his
voice to a conspiratorial whisper, the man added, “Then
this gentleman”—he jerked a thumb toward a man who sat
reading a newspaper about twenty feet away—”has been
waiting for you all afternoon. And no one could find you.”

Jessica glanced toward the familiar-looking stranger.
“Who is he?”

“Miser’s secretary,” came the grim response.

“Ah, I must speak with him, then,” she asserted.

“Good luck, miss.”

She and Cole crossed the lobby and paused before the
man, who was small and fair, with impeccable clothing
and a well-waxed mustache. Jessica remembered him
from the stage robbery, and was relieved when she spot
ted no recognition in his pale blue eyes as he glanced up at her and Cole.

Twirling her parasol, Jessica said, “Good afternoon,
sir, I understand you’ve been waiting for us. I’m Jessica
Garrett and this is my cousin, Mr. Lively. What can we do
for you?”

Setting aside his paper, the man rose and gave them a
cool stare. “I’m Calvin Stickles, miss, secretary to Mr. Eli
jah Miser. Mr. Miser would like to meet with you at once.”

Jessica winked at Cole. “Of course.”

Stickles escorted them outside to his handsome surrey,
then drove them several blocks to a large brownstone
building. Inside the posh edifice, they took an elevator to
the third floor.

Stickles led them down the hallway to an imposing
door with a frosted panel that read “Aspen Gulch Con
sortium.” Opening the door, Stickles escorted them
through the outer cubicle and into a spacious inner office.

Jessica at once recognized the thin, sharp-featured
man seated behind the mahogany desk as Elijah Miser.
She found him thoroughly unpleasant with hawkish fea
tures, shifty eyes hidden beneath bushy brows, and
coarse gray-brown hair. To his left on a leather settee re
posed a huge, pot-bellied, pug-nosed gentleman she also
vaguely remembered.

Stickles addressed Miser. “Mr. Miser, may I introduce
Miss Garrett and her cousin, Mr. Lively, both from Mari
posa. Folks, this is Mr. Miser and his associate, Mr.
Willard Peavy.”

Miser stood, flashing his guests a nasty smile, then of
fered Jessica his hand. “Well, well, so you’re the young
woman who has maligned me.”

Jessica ignored Miser’s hand. “I wasn’t aware that
telling the truth was ‘maligning.’“

Appearing taken aback, Miser dropped his hand to his side. “Ah, a young woman of spirit.” He scowled at Cole.
“You look familiar, sir. Have we met?”

Cole didn’t even blink. “Not to my knowledge.”

“Mr. Lively is a revered citizen of Mariposa,” Jessica
put in. “Very active in the church. You may have seen him
there?”

Miser ignored her comment. “Sit down, both of you.”

Seating herself in a chair next to Cole’s, Jessica said sweetly, “What may we do for you, Mr. Miser?”

She noted with pleasure that his eyes flashed angrily.
“What may you do? You may ask that contemptible cow
ard, E. J. Battle, to print an immediate retraction of your
lies in today’s edition.”

“Oh, I think not,” Jessica responded demurely, smooth
ing her skirts.

Miser appeared stunned. “Your gall astounds me,
young lady. Do you have any idea who I am?”

“I’m well aware of who you are.”

“Are you? Then what are you planning to do when I
sue you and that turncoat
Battle
for libel?”

Now Cole surged forward in his chair, shaking a fist. “Don’t you go threatening the lady.”

Jessica touched his arm. “It’s all right, Mr. Lively.” She turned to Miser. “I’m afraid, sir, that you have no case. As
I understand it, the truth is always a defense against libel.”

“How dare you!” he blustered.

“Yes, I dare. Furthermore, what do you intend to do when the
Chronicle
sends a reporter out to the mines to
confirm my charges?”

“I’ll let no yellow reporter into my mines.”

“Then maybe he’ll just interview the miners. How well
would your sterling reputation hold up then?”

Miser pounded a fist, a muscle twitching in his cheek.
“
Battle
wouldn’t dare. Not after I got through with him
this morning.”

“Not everyone can be bullied by your threats, sir,” Jes
sica went on coolly. “If
Battle
won’t pursue this, I’ll contact the
Rocky Mountain News,
or
The
Denver
Post.
I’ll
continue until your brand of cruel exploitation is com
pletely exposed. That should do marvels for your senatorial campaign.”

He glared. “Damn it, young woman, you don’t know who you’re dealing with! I’ll see you crucified for this.”

“Just try it,” warned Cole.

All at once, the portly man stood. “A moment, Elijah.”

“What is it?” Miser barked.

Peavy moved closer, offering Jessica a conciliatory smile. “Miss, may I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Why are you doing this?”

She raised her chin. “Perhaps because I don’t want to
see dozens of miners—good men with families who de
pend on them—murdered in your deathtrap operation out at Aspen Gulch.”

That accusation brought Miser out of his chair. “Murdered? Young woman, I’ll have you know—”

But Peavy silenced Miser with a raised hand and a
warning look. “A moment, Elijah.”

His face a study in supreme frustration, Miser sat back
down. Jessica could barely contain her glee.

Patiently, Peavy continued, “Miss, we’re only business
men. The mines bring us revenue, and also put food on the
tables of the people of Mariposa. Is that so terrible?”

“It will be when most of those miners perish because
you’ve over-tunneled the mines,” Cole put in grimly.

Peavy shook his head. “What would you have us do,
sir?”

“Close the mines,” Jessica and Cole said in unison.

“What?” yelled Miser. “You’re mad, both of you.”

“No, you’re mad not to do precisely what we’re sug
gesting,” Jessica retorted stoutly. “Besides, think of the
good press.”

Miser appeared mystified. “Good press?”

Jessica assumed her schoolteacher mien. “Yes, sir,
there’s good press and there’s bad press. First, I’ll tell you
about the bad. It goes something like this: You’re busy running for senator, and twenty miners die in Mariposa
because the mountain collapses on them. Very bad press.”

He glowered. “And the good?”

“You close the mines now, give all the miners a gener
ous stipend that will feed their families until they can re
establish themselves in farming or other ventures.”

Miser waved a hand. “Now I know you’re out of your
mind.”

“Wait a minute, Elijah,” put in Peavy. “Don’t we have
Aspen Gulch pretty much tapped out?”

“So what if we do?”

“Wouldn’t it be better to close it down now rather than
risk a major cave-in during your senatorial campaign?”

Miser rapped his fingertips on his desk.

“Not to mention, we’ve been plagued with all those
robberies out at Mariposa, and the Pinkertons haven’t
been able to catch the Reklaws.”

At the mention of the gang, Jessica stole a glance at
Cole and was pleased to note he didn’t even blink.

Miser waved Peavy off. “I’ll give it some thought.”

“You may have until the end of the week,” Jessica informed him. “Or I swear, you will rue the consequences.”

Again Miser popped out of his chair. “Young woman,
how dare you threaten me! I’m warning you—”

Jessica, too, rose. “No, I’m warning
you,
sir. Either we
see an announcement in Friday’s paper that you’re plan
ning to close the mines and pension the miners, or I
promise you that within a fortnight, there will be a major
expose published here or in
Denver
detailing how you’ve
exploited the downtrodden out in Mariposa.”

“Young woman, that’s blackmail!”

This time Cole answered proudly for Jessica. “No, sir,
it’s hardball.”

Miser’s expression was utterly perplexed as Jessica and
Cole triumphantly turned and walked out of his office.