Microsoft Word - Jenny dreamed (3 page)

The effect was immediate, for she was used to nothing stronger than champagne. Tense muscles relaxed and Jenny returned to bed, convincing herself with slightly intoxicated reasoning that the shock of Rodrigo's burial had precipitated the strange dreams. Somehow she had drawn on her mother's memories of life with the Black-foot and her imagination to create a bizarre fantasy.

Slipping again beneath the gold damask coverlet, she plumped her pillow until she was comfortable. Everything would be much less frightening in the morning's light, she assured herself, as the brandy lulled her to sleep. This time she slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep that would carry her safely forward to meet the day.

Langdon,Monlana-April 20) 1873

One

The timbered, two-story house was built in the style of an English hunting lodge. Its split-shingle roof and g,{bled windows gave it a rustic look, but its very size was imposing, even against a backdrop of breath-taking, snow-capped mountains. A huge spring-fed lake, whose icy waters abounded in trout and northern pike, was situated to the left of the house. A bam and corral were in the rear. The property stretched for miles in all directions before it reached the fences that marked the boundaries of Jared Bryant's Montana estate.

As was their custom in midsummer, the Bryants were in residence at their year-round home in London. Each spring they sailed from England to spend several months of leisure time at their estate. After months of life as a conservative English gentleman, Jared always looked forward to returning to the wide onen spaces and sprawling lands of Montana, where he had met his beloved Mariah. Despite the owners' absence, the house was obviously being readied for company. Colorful Aubusson rugs and brilliantly embroidered tapestries were hung over clotheslines at the back of the house, and the windows were opened wide to air the rooms.

Only one room was darkened-the fair-sized room in the servants' quarters that had been set aside for the housekeeper. The shades were drawn on its two windows, the heavy curtains pulled tight against the glare of a late morning sun.

No one was about to hear the low, muffled moans that issued from the room, the breathless cries of ecstasy on a silent, spring morn; no one to discover that the proper, red-headed daughter of the very pious, very righteous Reverend Solomon Sparks lay pinned to the bed, encouraging her darkly tanned lover to greater prowess.

Dev Cantrell was pleased to answer Sally's needs-more than pleased, he was appreciative and a bit overcome by the wild abandon that had surfaced after he'd managed to persuade her that there were more pleasant ways to pass a morning than dusting furniture.

As his lips planted a trail of searching kisses across Sally's bountiful breasts, Dev reminded himself to be more observant in the future. He should have known there was something simmering beneath the girl's religious maiden lady facade. The bright fiery hair that was always bound in a severe knot, the plain, prim dresses. Sally had done her best to keep her virtue intact by appearing as unattractive as possible. More'n likely with the full approval of that Hellfire'n' brimstone spouting pa of hers!

"Oh, Dev ... oh, I never …" Sally's voice trailed off to a whisper, a gasp that built to a shuddering sigh as Dev noted her obvious enjoyment and increased the pace of his movements. Her plump, white thighs were draped over his shoulders, easily facilitating the deepest penetration of the soft, rosy flesh, allowing his hard, pulsing length to enter and withdraw, to enter again until dark, golden-brown curls met and fused with coppery red. A gleam of sweat frosted skin so white it appeared as translucent as fine china.

Sally's eyes closed as her head whipped from side to side, letting the feelings her prudish nature had dammed flow forth unrestrained. Dev's lean body mastering her own set her pulses racing madly, chasing away inhibitions that had kept her alone and frustrated for many years. One scream escaped her as the sensations that assaulted her mounted to a feverish, unbearable pitch. Dev's mouth ground against her bruised lips, claiming the cry of ecstasy even as it left her. Together they rode the crest of aroused passion, their bodies straining together, heated flesh against flesh until the last ounce of pleasure was exacted.

Dev eased himself away from Sally, collapsing at her side with a weary but satisfied sigh. He was drenched in sweat, and every muscle seemed to tingle from the exertion. A quick glance at Sally brought a grin of satisfaction at the dazed happiness on her face.

Dev was not arrogant, but a sure confidence in himself and his ability to stir a woman into passionate abandon showed in every movement of his lean, muscled body. He settled back now, resting his head on one arm. Even in repose, his strong, angular features radiated the pride and innate self-possession of a young lion.

His face was large but in no way raw or undefined.The lines of his high cheekbones and firm, strong chin were inherently aristocratic, his forehead high and well-formed above a long, Roman nose. An upper lip that curved like a gull's wings in flight served to emphasize the full, sensual shape of his lower lip. Most appealing,' though, to women were Dev Cantrell's eyes. They were arresting. Their odd, gold-flecked color was ever-changing -at times a pale brown, at others, a leonine golden glare that intimidated those who had drawn him to anger. Full, straight brows framed the commanding eyes, in a shade slightly darker than his sun-burnished hair. Amber-brown lashes, as thick and long as any woman might covet, seemed at times to make his gaze inscrutable.

At the moment, Sally was not concerned with the attractiveness of the man sharing her bed.

Already, as the intense feelings of pleasure faded, she was considering the consequences of her surrender. Dear Lord, she thought, taken with a sudden fit of trembling, what would Pa do to her? Only once before had she given in to the temptation of sin. Somehow her Pa had found out and whipped her for the indiscretion. Since then she had maintained a firm grip on her sinful nature, but now she had slipped, and Pa would only have to take one look at her guilty face to know it!

"Dev?" In the half-light of the darkened room, Sally poked at his ribs. This was as much his fault as hers, maybe more, 'cause he was so blasted good-looking! "Dev, my Pa ain't gonna take kindly to this. I don't think you've ever seen him when he's all riled." Her voice shook a little, revealing her apprehension.

Dev sighed heavily, sitting up and shoving a pillow behind his back to soften the hard surface of the wooden headboard. "Unless you feel like confessing, girl, how will he ever know?" His tone was reasonable, soothing, as though he were explaining a simple fact to a child. "He'll know!"

"Believe me, honey, you aren't wearing a brand just because you did what comes natural."

He leaned over, reaching for his shirt on the floor. A second later his face was illuminated briefly as he lit a long, thin cigar. "Besides, your Pa won't be back from the mines for another six weeks. And who knows when your houseguest'll show?" A warm hand touched the edge of her breast and Sally shivered involuntarily at the intimate caress. "There's plenty of time to indulge a bit, and no one'Il ever be the wiser." His voice was as persuasive as the fingers that now traced light circles over her belly.

"Damn you, Dev Cantrell!" Sally felt wanton and immoral and she loved it, despite the fact that his teasing had drawn a rare cirss word from 'her. "Sometimes I think you got the devil guidin' you!" She heard a deep chuckle from his side of the bed and a brief sizzle as he tossed his cigar into the glass of water on the nightstand. A moment later she found herself drawn against his warm, naked body and as her fingers curved together behind his head, she added with a soft, resigned sigh, "Course they say he was a handsome one, too damn good-lookin', just like you!"

Later that same day, Dev rode reluctantly into town to meet the stage from Helena. He'd been expecting the "houseguest" for over a week now, and his temper had grown more testy with each hour-long ride into Langdon and each stage that failed to deliver Jennifer Bryant. He could have made the sixty-mile trip south to Helena, met the girl there, and escorted her back to her parents' home, but it had also been left to him to find a housekeeper and oversee the arrangements for this visit.

What had started as a simple request from his old friend Jared Bryant had become an irritating and disagreeable task. He had a brief rebellious notion simply to stay at the house and let the tardy Miss Bryant make her own arrangements, but he dismissed it immediately.

He owed Jared more loyalty than that and was determined to see this through until the girl was off his hands.

On his ride, he let his mount take the lead, knowing the sorrel was well-acquainted with the path. Dev's association with Jared went back some eight years now. He had been seventeen the year they met, and he might not have seen eighteen if Jared hadn't found him lying unconscious near the border of his property and brought him back to the house for Mariah to nurse. A stupid, foolish act of his own had made the palomino throw him. He'd been crossing the Bryant land on his way home to the tribe, returning from a barely successful hunting trip. Game had been scarce that year and many of the braves had lit out on their own, hoping to replenish the dwindling food supplies in the village.

Coming over a rise, he'd been startled to spot a deer, a large buck grazing beneath a stand of trees. Thinking only of how much meat he could bring home, he'd raced forward at breakneck speed, forgetting that neither he nor the stallion was familiar with the lay of the land. The horse stumbled, catching his foreleg in a gopher hole, and, though the animal recovered his footing, Dev was thrown and slammed to the ground, striking his head on a rock.

Dev stayed with the Bryants for weeks, and when he had stubbornly insisted that he must get up and continue to hunt, an even more stubborn Mariah insisted he stay. Jared had wholeheartedly agreed that Dev hadn't the strength to travel, much less hunt. Jared had come up with the idea of taking some of the staples in their well-stocked cellar to the Blackfoot; and when Dev explained that Gray Hawk would be too proud to accept such an offering from a white man, Jared had made a cryptic statement that "he would from this white man."

Despite Dev's doubts concerning the success of such a mission, he had silently been grateful and almost over-whelmed by Jared's generosity when the man left the next morning driving a wagon whose bed was packed full of provisions.

Mariah, sensing that Dev was still puzzled over Jared's confidence that Gray Hawk would accept the offered bounty, explained Jared's previous association with Gray Hawk. She told him of her own Blackfoot heritage and hesitantly touched on the reasons for the split long ago between Jared and his blood brother, Gray Hawk.

Perhaps it was the tenderness in her attitude as she cared for him or possibly the simple fact that he considered her the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, but by the time Jared returned from the trip north, Dev was more than half in love with Mariah Bryant. It was a case of a boy's first love, idealistic and chaste, and he hid it well, unwilling to embarrass a woman who was obviously very much in love with her husband.

Dev found he was actually reluctant to leave when he was finally well enough to travel. Jared and Mariah made sure he had adequate provisions and then joined him in the long, shaded gallery that ran the length of the front of the house to bid farewell. Jared had extracted a promise from him that he return to visit them as often as he could and had added that if he ever needed anything, to let him know.

When at last Dev returned to the village, Gray Hawk had concerned himself with his adopted son's healing head injury and well-being, adamantly refusing to discuss Jared Bryant's visit or the food that had helped to ease the tribe's hunger. Though not one critical comment ever escaped the chiefs lips, Dev knew the second visit he paid the Bryants before they returned to England and the time he spent with them each year troubled Gray Hawk. Still, Dev enjoyed seeing Mariah and was drawn into easy companionship with Jared. At the end of each winter's snows, he looked forward to their arrival with warm anticipation.

He and Jared grew closer with the passing years, and though the Indian life he'd been living for the past six or seven years was deeply ingrained, each time he headed for the Bryants'

house, he had a feeling he was going home. The couple had only one child, a daughter Dev had never met, and though they were immensely proud of her, both of them treated him as if he were the son they had never had.

One day during the third spring Dev had spent with them, Jared sat him down for a talk. He complimented Devon his ability to learn quickly, praising the sharp, natural intelligence he displayed, but reminding him that although he had been raised by the Blackfoot, his heritage was white, not Indian.

"I know your loyalty to the tribe, son," he said and added sadly, "don't forget I once lived with them, too. They're good people, but I'm only being realistic when I say their time is running out. I saw it over twenty years ago ... believe me, Gray Hawk knows it, too." He went on to say that Dev owed it to himself to make a place in the world in which his true parents had belonged. "With a little tutoring, you'd be fine college material, Dev. I'll see to it that you have everything you need. There are several good schools in the East. All I ask is that you give it a try ... as a favor to Mariah and me."

Dev protested, offering a number of objections, but in the end he had agreed, unwilling to disappoint either Jared or Mariah. The school they selected was in Massachusetts, a small college with a good reputation among the more elite. He lasted a year, found that he enjoyed the classes and absorbed as much learning as he could before the confining atmosphere of the city and the proper, conservative sons of wealthy men began to make him feel stifled. When his longing for the open country of Montana and the company of more earthy, honest people became too strong to resist, he quit, wrote a letter to Jared explaining his reasons and headed home.