Savage Heat (34 page)

Regina drew a deep breath.

She was being foolish. Why should she feel threatened because Senator Berton had insisted that the two of them have dinner alone? She should be honored, not anxious. But she was anxious. She had not been alone with the senator since that hot afternoon she and Larry had very nearly been caught in a highly compromising situation.

Regina’s knees went weak at the recollection.

Such a close call had left her almost ill for the rest of the day. It had been a nightmare. She and Larry Berton, stark naked, in one of the guest rooms, their clothes nowhere in sight. The two of them fleeing frantically through the carpeted corridor while the senator and her husband climbed the stairs. She had barely made it to her suite before Thomas opened the door and called to her, and she’d had a devil of a time explaining why she was so out of breath.

Regina shook her head as if to clear it.

Thomas hadn’t suspected a thing, nor had the senator. She was just being foolish. The distinguished senator had quite simply invited her to join him for dinner this evening because he was leaving for Washington at week’s end and he enjoyed her company. And besides, with Larry and the colonel away at Fort Collins, it was only natural that the two of them should dine together.

Regina began to smile.

The senator, with his thick silver hair and sophisticated charm, was an interesting, attractive man. The slight limp only added to his urbane appeal and she suspected it didn’t hamper his performance in bed. There was, she happily surmised, a lusty, sexual animal beneath the veneer of the polished, aristocratic gentleman.

Her doubts pushed aside, an expectant, glowing Regina Darlington descended the giant staircase, eager for a pleasant, intimate evening with the powerful Virginia senator.

Any ridiculous unease she had suffered earlier dissipated completely as she sat across the candlelit table from her engaging dinner companion. Easily Senator Berton charmed her with his usual witty, informative conversation. That is, after he’d graciously kissed her hand, held it for a moment longer than necessary, and complimented her on her beauty.

Now as he sipped his wine and carved the rare roast beef, he smiled at her, his eyes twinkling, and Regina knew she’d been a ninny to have worried.

Taking a long drink of the vintage Lafite, she felt a familiar flutter of excitement begin in her stomach. Her husband, the colonel, would not be returning to the estate for another four days. The senator’s son, Major Berton, was not due back for a week. They were, for all intents and purposes, alone here at the foothills mansion. Finally the military guard surrounding the estate had been removed. All was quiet and peaceful once more. The early autumn weather had chilled and a warm, blazing fire was burning in the opulent drawing room. Perhaps after a couple of brandies by firelight the silver-haired senator would like to go upstairs and get more comfortable.

Regina looked at the senator’s wide mouth. His lips were gleaming wet from the wine. The fluttering of her stomach grew more pronounced. Ah, yes, it promised to be a very enjoyable night. That anticipated enjoyment drew closer when, after finishing their rich dessert, she suggested brandy in the drawing room.

“Splendid idea,” said the senator, and came around to pull out her chair. Once in the high-ceilinged drawing room, he poured for them both, handed a glass to her, and touching his glass to hers, said, “To the days ahead.”

Smiling seductively, she added, “And to the nights.”

She sipped her brandy while the senator downed his in one swallow, then poured himself another. He drank down the second glass, set the empty aside, and went directly to the fireplace. Regina, watching him, noted the rise of his shoulders in his custom jacket as he drew a deep, long breath. He turned to face her.

He said, “Mrs. Darlington, I’m certain you’d be delighted if your husband were to receive a much deserved promotion. Am I correct?”

“Why, I … Senator, nothing would make me happier.” Smiling at him, Regina felt she might laugh out loud. This handsome Virginia senator so desired her, he was willing to give her husband a promotion just to have her. My God, this was even better than she’d hoped. A long, romantic night with the senator and a long hoped-for promotion for dear, sweet Thomas.

“I thought you’d feel that way, my dear,” the senator said, “knowing what a devoted wife you are.” Something about his smile, as he advanced on her, was all wrong.

Regina swallowed with difficulty. “I … I … try to be a good … ah …”

He had reached her. “Let us drop the pretense, Mrs. Darlington.” He continued to smile.

Again inexplicably uneasy, Regina lifted a small hand to his crisp white shirtfront. Toying with a gold stud, she said, “Very well, Senator.” She allowed her thick eyelashes to flutter down for a second, then looked him squarely in the eye. “Am I to assume you’d like to strike a bargain?”

“You are.”

She laughed softly. “Shall we forestall any further discussion until we get upstairs?” She paused, inhaled, and added, “Say, to your room? Or would you prefer mine?”

“Right where we are is suitable, Mrs. Darlington.”

“But, Senator,” she said, starting to giggle nervously, glancing toward the open double doors and already weighing the merits of the expensive Persian rug in front of the fireplace as opposed to the long, soft sofa. “The servants, they …”

“You’re quite right,” said the senator. And he wasted no time crossing to pull the tall double doors shut. Turning, he said, “Now. About that bargain.”

“Yes,” she said, breathlessly, “name your terms.” She placed a spread hand on her full, rapidly rising and falling bosom. “But first, may I make myself more comfortable?”

Crossing to her, he said, “By all means, my dear.”

Senator Douglas Berton was amazed at the speed with which Regina Darlington divested herself of the shimmering bronze silk gown. In seconds she was standing in the firelight wearing nothing but a revealing bronze satin chemise, her silk stockings, and her dainty bronze satin slippers.

She was, he had to admit, stunningly desirable. So very desirable, he couldn’t fault his healthy son for sampling her many charms.

He said, “Comfortable now, Mrs. Darlington?”

“Yes,” she murmured, “but I’d like you to be comfortable too.”

Thinking he’d be comfortable just as soon as he got out of that too-warm room, Senator Douglas Berton said, “You’re a beautiful woman, Mrs. Darlington, and …”

“Thank you, Senator.”

“So beautiful, I can’t blame Larry for making love to you.” He saw the alarm leap into her eyes.

“Why, I never in my …”

“You did, so let’s not dillydally. My son is my whole life, Mrs. Darlington. That boy is all I have; my wife died years ago. Larry has a brilliant career ahead of him and …”

“I … I … know that, Senator. You’ve got it all wrong; I would never look twice at your son.” She shook her head. “No, it’s you I …”

He took a step closer and put his hands on her bare shoulders. “Mrs. Darlington, I’ve spent the last ten years keeping ladies like you away from my boy. I should have acted sooner this time, but I thought surely with your husband and the military around …” He shrugged. “You picked the wrong man, Mrs. Darlington. Chances are Larry will be at Fort Collins for another year or more, so I can’t have you here in Denver.”

“You can’t have … this is our home, Senator. You can’t just …”

“Yes, I can.” He smiled then, and let his hands slide down her arms. “Don’t look so glum. You’ll benefit too. Colonel Darlington will be on the short promotion list and will get his star. You’ll be transferred to the Presidio. Leading the life of a general’s wife in the Bay City will be quite rewarding for a lady of your charm and beauty.”

“Yes,” she murmured, already seeing in her mind’s eye a fine Telegraph Hill mansion with all the gay, cultured California set calling often to pay homage. “Senator, you’ve made yourself a deal.”

“I thought so,” he replied. “I’ll see to the details as soon as I reach Washington.”

“How can I thank you, Senator?” she said, aware of the strong hands still clasping her wrists.

The Senator’s jaw hardened. “Stay away from my son!”

Scar slapped the Crow brave across the face. Bright-red blood spurted from the surprised man’s split lip and ran down his chin. He didn’t lift a hand to wipe it away, instead stood flat-footed looking at Scar.

Scar said, “I weary of these excuses you give, saying you learn nothing, you hear nothing.” He stepped away from the bleeding man, dropped down onto the spread blanket, and motioned the woman forward to continue with his bath. Naked, he sprawled there on the blanket in the afternoon sunshine, leaning on an elbow while the dutiful Crow woman swiped at his scarred massive shoulders with a soapy cloth. “Sit,” Scar commanded the bleeding brave. “And wipe your mouth.”

The nervous brave did both, dropping to his knees as he blotted his ripped lip on a shirt sleeve. Averting his eyes from the angry naked man lolling immodestly before him, he said, “Scar, the fault is not ours. The girl may be with Night Sun. Windwalker’s tribe never talks. And,” he added, “if she is there, we can’t just ride in and take her.” His eyes were on the ground.

“Look at me, Kaytennae,” said the fat, disgruntled Crow. While his woman lifted a heavy arm and soaped a furry underarm, Scar said, “Night Sun has the golden-haired woman. I want that golden-haired woman and I am going to have her. You find her or I’ll”—he knocked the woman aside, reached out, grabbed his Colt .45, and cocked it—“I’ll kill you and feed your bones to the dogs.”

The brave nodded. “Let’s head south tomorrow. Ride until the Little Missouri turns into the Belle Fourche. If we don’t find them there, we can turn east to the Powder.” He looked nervously at the big naked man with the cocked pistol.

Waving the Colt, Scar nodded. “Good. Tell the others we leave at daybreak. And tell them if they’ll help me find her, they’ll be rewarded. Now get away from here, I’m trying to get a bath.” He laughed suddenly and laid the revolver aside. “I want to be nice and fresh for the general’s pretty blond daughter.”

* * *

General William Kidd stared broodingly out the window of his Fort Collins quarters. It was almost sunup on that cool September Sunday morning. His favorite time of the day. His favorite time of the year. But the morning, the season, brought him no joy.

His was a heart forever broken.

They weren’t going to find her, he had finally faced it. His only child, his little girl, was gone, most likely had perished, and with her his joy in living. The sound of recall no longer stirred him. The sight of the blazing aspens beyond his open windows left him cold. Good food, good whiskey, good friends, no longer held any charm for him.

The general sighed and put his head in his hands.

Never did the darkness fall that he didn’t hear her calling for him, the sounds of her sobs following him into fitful slumber. Never did the light of dawn touch his eyelids that he didn’t tell himself this was the day he’d get her back.

But he knew better.

Martay was dead. He believed it. And, in a way, it was a comfort for him to believe it. Far better for her to be dead and in Heaven than held captive somewhere by some sadistic madman who …

Swallowing the bile that rose to his throat, the general raised his graying head. He rose and slipped long arms into his military blouse, buttoned the brass buttons up his still-trim frame, picked up his campaign hat and suede gauntlets, and headed for his office.

Within the hour he was seated across the desk from Colonel Thomas Darlington and the colonel was diplomatically questioning the general’s decision to ride with a detachment being sent north toward the Canadian Border with hopes of a skirmish with hostile Sioux.

“With all due respect, General, you shouldn’t make such a difficult journey.”

General Kidd, hands laced atop his desk, thumbs idly twiddling, replied, “Colonel, if I don’t do something, I shall go mad.” His hands came undone and he pushed his chair back from the desk. “Since the search has terminated, I …”His shoulders lifted wearily in a shrug of defeat. “Besides, if our informers are right and Gall is planning to lead a band down into the Dakotas, I want to be there to face the red bastard!” His face flushed with color.

“Sir, I know you detest the Indians. We all do, but I’ve never understood … ah … that is …”

General Kidd bounded out of his chair. He strode to the window, looked out at the dusty parade ground, where a few troopers were exercising their mounts in the cool morning air. He turned about. “When I was a boy my family lived in Minnesota on a beautiful farm within sight of the Mississippi. My father’s younger brother lived with us and I dearly loved my Uncle Dan. Dan was just a teenager himself, but I, being only six, thought he was a grown man and I wanted to be just like him when I grew up.”

The General came back to his desk.

“One summer afternoon when my parents were in town and my uncle and I were down at the river swimming, a band of Sioux came riding up onto our property.” General Kidd gritted his teeth. “They didn’t harm me, but they killed my Uncle Dan.” He closed his eyes, opened them. “Scalped him and left him to die. He bled to death in my arms.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “Goddamn them all to eternal hell!”

“I can understand how you feel,” said Colonel Darlington.

General Kidd nodded, calming immediately. “Strange, I hadn’t thought about Dan in years. Sometimes I’ve almost forgotten why I hate Indians so much.” He rose and went to study the calendar across the room.

He squinted. “September twenty-first,” he said aloud. And Uncle Dan and the hostiles and Colonel Darlington were all forgotten. His eyes sad, he said wistfully to himself, “Fifty-seven days.”

“I beg your pardon, General?” said Colonel Darlington.

“It’s been fifty-seven days since I saw my child.” He turned and looked at the seated man. “If Scar can’t find her, then she can’t be found.” Tears sprang suddenly to his green eyes and his voice was rough when he said, “I won’t see her again until we meet in Heaven.”

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