Dakota Dream (21 page)

"But, Hazel, I can't," she groaned. "It will make me sicker than I already am."

"Humph. You should have thought of that before you decided to swill a whole bottle of the devil's own brew."

With a low moan, Dominique collapsed against the pillows on her bed. "That's not fair. I didn't know what it was. I thought it would ease my miseries." And it had for a while. Now her cramps were back, stronger than ever, second only to the roaring pain thundering against her temples. "Please, Hazel. Just let me go to sleep. Tell Aunt Libbie that I took sun-sick like you told everyone else.
Please?"

"I shouldn't let you off the hook so easily. What I ought to do—" A couple of sharp raps against the door cut into her thoughts. "I'll bet that's your aunt now. What shall I tell her?" Hazel slid off the bed and hurried to the door. When she opened it, Mary stared back at her.

"
Scuse
me,
miz
, but
they's
a soldier wanting to see Miss Nikki. Says it be mighty important."

"Oh? Did he leave his name?"

"Stoltz.
Private Stoltz."

"Jacob's here?" Dominique bolted off the bed and stumbled over to the looking glass. "Tell him I'll be right down, Mary. Oh, dear Lord, I look a fright. Hazel, quick,
help
me with my hair."

With one raised eyebrow, Hazel nodded to Mary. "Tell the private
I'll
be down in a moment." Then she closed the door and stalked over to the dresser. "You can't seriously be thinking of entertaining the swine who got you in your cups this afternoon."

"Hazel, please. Fix the back of my hair." She pinched her cheeks,
then
gave each one a hard slap. "And kindly stop saying that. Jacob didn't mean to get me drunk. He thought the elixir was medicine, too."

"Of course he did, my dear." Hazel blew a long low whistle as she finished knotting Dominique's hair. "Boy, do you have a lot to learn about men."

Some of Dominique's sparkle returned as she winked at Hazel's reflection. "You're right, of course, but how do you expect me to finish my education while standing in here with you? Shouldn't I be downstairs—with one of
them?
"
She
twirled, brushing a few lingering bits of straw off her blue gingham dress, and started for the door.

"Not so fast, missy."
One step behind her, Hazel went over the rules. "First off, it's highly improper of you even to see a fellow who doesn't have an invitation to visit you. Second, you will not be seeing him alone. I shall accompany you."

Dominique stopped in her tracks and spun around. "It's not as if I'm some young schoolgirl, you know. I think I can manage the private all by myself."

"As you did this afternoon in the back of the wagon?"

Dominique pursed her lips. "I told you that was an accident. Why won't you listen to me?"

"Oh, all right. I'll compromise. I'll greet him with you, and then I'll disappear into the drawing room to work on my crocheting. Just be warned—if it gets too quiet out in the parlor, I shall have to return."

Dominique rolled her big brown eyes.

"Take it or leave it, girl," Hazel said firmly.

"I'll take it."

Raising the hem of her skirt, Dominique made her way down the long curving stairway,
then
carefully strolled into the parlor. "You wish to see me?" she said to her guest as she entered the room.

Jacob nearly dropped the carved ivory elephant he held. Replacing the statue on a small occasional table, he faced the women. "Yes. I came to see if you were well."

"No thanks to you, Private." Hazel advanced on him, but stopped her progress at a scathing glance from Dominique. Backtracking, she excused herself. "I'll just be in the other room. I trust your visit will be brief, Private. Miss DuBois needs her rest."

"I will not stay long." As soon as Hazel was out of sight, Jacob studied Dominique for signs of ill effects. Other than a general appearance of fatigue, she looked as beautiful as ever. With a sheepish grin, he said, "Your friend sounds as if she is quite angry with me."

"Don't worry about it, Jacob. She's none too pleased with me, either."

"Are you well?" he asked softly, concern reflected in his sea-blue eyes.

"As well as can be expected, I suppose. I have a dreadful headache and feel as if I may be sick at any moment.
How about you?"

"I have definitely felt better," he said with a quiet laugh. "Perhaps what we need is a shot of Professor Harrington's elixir."

"Oh, Jacob, I don’t think so." Swaying against him, Dominique brought her hand to her mouth in an effort to stifle her laughter. She caught her breath and whispered, "I was afraid you might be mad at me for getting so silly after I drank that awful stuff."

With a quick glance over his shoulder, Jacob satisfied his sense of privacy. Then, in a bold move, he cupped her face between his hands, forcing her to look into his eyes.

"I am to blame for any harm caused to you this afternoon. It is I who begs your forgiveness."

He was so close she could feel the warmth from his breath, catch the faint scent of peppermint it carried. Again she swayed, but it had nothing to do with illness or potions, the miseries or a sense of propriety. It had everything to do with Jacob, the man. "Please don't say that. You've done nothing to forgive. You tried to keep me from taking too much of the potion, and even after it was too late, I know how difficult it must have been for you to handle me."

Her words were almost too much for him. If only she knew how badly he longed to handle her, to touch her. If they were back in his lodge in the camp of his father, it would have been a simple thing. Dominique would have been his by now. She would share his tipi, his life. This he
knew,
this he believed without a doubt. Thinking not of their uncertain future, but only of the moment, Jacob raised his fingers to her brow and brushed a lock of golden- red hair aside. "You were no problem," he said in a throaty whisper.

But she knew she had been. Ever since her return to the house, vague, disturbing glimpses of her adventures in town had been popping out of the shadows in her mind. She remembered the potion, Jacob's warnings, Jacob's dark blue eyes, the way he smiled down at her with playful desire as he tried to comfort her in the wagon. She'd guessed it was desire because she felt the same thing, wondered if those feelings were there because of, or in spite of, the elixir. She remembered wanting to kiss him, had an idea she might even have asked him if he would do her the honor. Dominique's cheeks grew fiery at the thought.
Had
she verbalized her desires?

"Oh, Jacob, I'm afraid I said some terrible things to you, asked you to do some things a lady would never—"

"You are wondering if you asked me to kiss
you?
" He smiled, allowing one hand to fall down from her shoulder to her waist. "Yes, you did. But I also know the medicine made you say the words without your permission. Do not feel ashamed."

Dominique blushed. "I don't feel shame, Jacob. I feel embarrassed because I asked you to do such a thing, because with or without the medicine, my lips had my permission. Because," she added, looking up at him with languid eyes, "it's something I've been
wanting
to do for a long time. If I feel anything, I feel cheated because it didn't happen."

His breath caught as his heart thundered against his throat. "This is the way you feel now?"

"Now more than ever," she said, leaving her lips moist and slightly parted.

And because he was only a man at that moment,
neither Sioux nor soldier, savior nor avenger,
Jacob accepted her invitation without another thought. His arm tightened around her waist and he drew her against the length of his body in one swift movement. Then he claimed her mouth with his.

Startled at first by the near violence of his kiss, the force with which he came to her, Dominique went limp and compliant under the onslaught of his kisses. Then passion—honest and heady, a genuine sensation, no longer just a word in a forbidden book—welled up inside her. A new awareness lapped at her senses, roused in her a curiosity and an enormous need, enticed her with a siren's wail from deep within. Her hands moved of their own accord, explored the ridges of his muscular shoulders, followed the hard valley of his spine, and massaged the softer flesh protecting his ribs.

Then suddenly, as abruptly as he'd come to her, Jacob tore his mouth from hers and backed away. "Someone is coming," he said, his voice thick with desire.

As she reeled in the strange new world of passion, Dominique's lashes fluttered and she wobbled when she tried to make her way to the rocking chair.

Reaching out to steady her, Jacob gripped her arm until he heard the front door open, then slam. He released her and stepped back into the shadows just as Elizabeth Custer passed under the high archway.

"Nikki," she greeted. "How was your trip to town?"

Dominique remained standing, even though she'd reached the rocker, and worked at catching her breath. "Fine, Aunt Libbie. Private Stoltz"—she gestured toward the corner—"was good enough to show me around the city."

Libbie spun on her heel, surprised to learn she and her niece were not alone. "Oh, Private—I didn't realize Nikki had company." She looked back to
Dominique,
one eyebrow raised, and asked, "Does the private have some special army business here?"

"Not exactly."
Dominique picked at a hangnail, struggling to find one of her usually quick retorts, and finally said, "Private Stoltz just stopped by to inquire about my health. I took sick on the ride back home today."

"Oh, Nikki.
Why wasn't I informed? I was only two doors down." She rushed to her niece's side and promptly pressed her palm against Dominique's brow. "You do seem a bit warm." Leaning back, she took in her niece's appearance. "Oh, and look at that high color. Why, you're positively flushed, girl. You should be in bed."

Not even trying to control her reaction to Libbie's observations, Dominique exchanged glances with Jacob,
then
lowered her head to hide her sudden grin. "I'll be all right, Aunt Libbie. I was just in the sun too long."

"Well, whatever the cause, you should be upstairs resting. Now run along."

This time Dominique bit back the impulse to argue, knowing that to push any more tonight would only rouse suspicion. She exhaled loudly and nodded. "I think you're right. Thanks again for the lovely afternoon, Private. Maybe we can do it again some other time."

"I would be honored, Miss DuBois."

Dominique curtsied, whirled around, and took one dramatic step toward the hallway before she stopped.
"Oh, Aunt Libbie.
There is one other thing. Private Stoltz is the soldier I invited to join us a few days past. It seems his invitation was destroyed before he ever had a chance to read it. Do you suppose it would be all right to extend him the same courtesy, oh,
say
... Friday afternoon?"