“You know, Chase, time's a-wasting. Winter will be gone before you know it, and then they'll have missed the opportunity to laze the cold days away, snuggled up in front of a fire like this."

"Who will?" he asked, as if he didn't know. His wife had been able to talk of little else lately.

"Colt and his duchess. I really ought to do something about it."

"I thought you agreed they could find their own way."

"Well, I didn't know they were both going to be so pigheaded stubborn about it. She's been over at the Callan spread for three weeks now. She's got the place all fixed up. Furnishings have been coming in every day from the East. She's even got a new stable built."

"And you haven't told her yet whose place she bought?"

"She'd already spent so much money on it before I found out, I didn't have the heart to tell her. But I suppose that could be one reason why Colt won't go over there."


"Honey, if she was interested, don't you think she would have come up with an excuse or two to visit us here, where she might run into him? That she hasn't ought to tell you something."

"Only that she's stubborn — and maybe needs a lit-tle encouragement. He didn't even tell her good-bye, you know. The last she saw of him was that night he brought her here. And she was still under the impres-sion then that he was glad to be rid of her."

"Maybe he is.."

Jessie snorted: "If you ask me, he's laboring under the same impression."

"Laboring? I see you've been to visit the duchess again."

Jessie grinned to herself, running her fingernails down his bare chest under the fur cover. She didn't always take the bait when he teased her.

"You're just looking to get something pinched, aren't you?"

Since he knew she wasn't mad — the difference was easy to discern after all these years — he pulled her half on top of him and suggested lazily, "If you'll kiss it to make it better afterward, you can pinch me anywhere you like."

"I figured you wouldn't mind too much." But when her hand drifted down between his legs, he went tense, making her giggle. "What's the matter, honey? Don't you trust your sweet wife?"

"Sweet, hell," he grumbled at her own teasing. "Sometimes I think you're still as wild and untamed as you were the day I met you."

Her head turned slightly so she could twirl her tongue around his nipple. Soft turquoise eyes peeked up at him for his reaction.

"Would you want me any other way?"

"Hell, no."

* * *

Later that afternoon, Jessie rode up into the hills to Colt's cabin. It still made her smile each time she passed the spot where she and Chase had first made love, there in the lower hills overlooking the valley.

That first time had been wonderful, even though it had ended badly. He'd thought he wasn't ready for marriage yet and settling down. He'd found out dif-ferently. He had even brought her back up here after they returned to Wyoming, to do it right this time, he said. Did they ever do it right.

The years had been good to them, exceedingly so. She might still be gruff with him at times — old habits died hard, and she'd always been quick to show her temper — but she knew the man loved her as much as she loved him, which was one hell of a lot.

Colt's cabin was higher up in the mountains near the creek where she used to swim as a girl, with a view of not only the valley but the plains beyond. Even with a few inches of snow covering the slopes this high up, she still found him outside wearing only a pair of old buckskin breeches as he chopped wood. He had a small mountain of wood piling up behind him. He swung that ax with a vengeance too. As chilly as the air was, sweat sheened on his chest and back.

She decided not to comment on his method for working off steam, which she had little doubt was the reason for such exertion. "Any coffee left on the stove?"

He didn't look up as he nodded, having known who his visitor was long before she came into sight of his little clearing. "Help yourself."

She did, taking note that his cabin was a mess and about a dozen bottles of whiskey filled a box in the comer, all empty. She came back out to stand in the doorway, cup in hand. He still didn't stop his chop-ping.

"You catch any horses lately?"

Since his corral was empty, it was really a question just to annoy him. It didn't work.

"No," was all he said.

"Billy will be taking the train to Chicago next week. I think my mother's actually going to listen to him now about that extra schooling he doesn't want. It wouldn't hurt him none to have it, though. Maybe you and I could talk him into changing his mind."

"The boy's old enough to make his own decisions, Jessie," he said with another swing of the ax.

She let that tack go. "You haven't seen him since he led those foreigners into town. Are you going to at least come down to say good-bye? I notice you've been remiss in that department lately."

She got his attention with that one. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Jessie shrugged. "Just that your duchess remarked on your absence the morning she left. She hadn't re-alized she wasn't going to see you again."

He swung the ax once more, making no comment other than "She's not my duchess."

"Well, of course not," Jessie allowed. "I didn't mean it that way." She moved out of the doorway to sit on a tree stump closer to the woodpile and re-marked casually, "She sure is a lady who knows how to get things done. I heard she just walked into the bank and came out less than a half hour later with a deed in hand."

"To the Callan place."

So he did know. She hadn't been sure. "Well, there wasn't much else available already built. She's fixed it up so you wouldn't recognize it, but I guess she's still not that happy with it. She also bought land run-ning clear up into the mountains and plans to build a mansion in the foothills come spring. There's already some famous New York architect working on a design for her, and she's got whole crews willing to travel all this way—"

"How do you know so much, Jessie?"

"I've paid her a visit or two. She is my neighbor now, after all, and only a short ride away."


"I know."

She frowned at the disgust in his tone. "Is that a problem?"

"Why should it be?"

"Well, you sure don't sound too happy about it."

"Was I supposed to?"

"Well. yes, I kind of thought you might be. Weren't you and she friends?"

"She hired me to do a job. I did it."

"And that's all there was between you two?"

"Jessie," he began warningly, but she cut him off.

"White Thunder, this is me you're talking to. And I saw the way you looked at her, so you can't tell me you don't want her. Why aren't you over there doing some courting? My foreman is, every chance he gets."

"Emmett Harwell?" he snapped. "He's old enough to be her father!"

"Well, now, what's that got to do with anything? I heard her duke was even older than that."

He glowered at her for a moment, but went right back to swinging the ax. Jessie made a sound of ex-asperation. Directness just wasn't going to work.

She took a sip of coffee, then said, "You know, after hearing all about this English dude who keeps hounding the lady, I figured the first thing she'd do when she moved in was build a wall around the place, but she didn't. I even asked her about it, and you know what she said?"

She waited. It took about twenty seconds, but he finally looked at her and demanded, "Well?"

"She doesn't want to keep him out. She says she's entrenched and waiting for him to come to her.

Sounds like something you might have suggested she do."

"Maybe I did."

"That's what I thought, but I couldn't figure out why you weren't there waiting with her."

"She's got enough men—"

"But she doesn't plan to use them. She plans on shooting the Englishman herself, so she's making it easy for him to get to her."

Colt dropped the ax. "Where'd she get that crazy idea from?"

Jessie shrugged. "I wouldn't know. Maybe she was just trying to impress me with her courage, since it's something I might do. Like you said, she's got men aplenty. Stands to reason there'd be one or two around to get him before he reaches her."

Colt made no comment to that. He was already heading for his cabin. Jessie followed, trying not to grin.

"You planning to go over there?" she called after him.

"The woman doesn't make idle remarks like that, Jessie," he tossed over his shoulder. "If she said she'd shoot him, she means to do it. Someone's got to tell her it's a damn-fool idea."

"Well, while you're there, why don't you put an end to this silliness of drinking yourself sick each night and ask the woman to marry you?"

He swung around to scowl at her. "Mind your own business, Jessie."

"You want to, don't you?"

"What difference does that make? She's a white woman, or didn't you notice?"

She deliberately widened her eyes, as if she under-stood perfectly now. "Well, why didn't you tell me she was prejudiced?"

"Are you crazy? She doesn't even know the mean-ing of the word."

"Then she's too arrogant for you? I should have known, her being a duchess and all."

"She's no more arrogant than you are," he re-torted.

"Well, I'm not arrogant, so it must be she's mean-spirited. I never would have guessed."

"Cut it out, Jessie," he hissed. "There isn't a mean bone in her body."

"Then it must be her looks. And here I thought you didn't mind all that ugly red hair."

"Chase should have wrung your neck the last time he threatened to."

"What'd I say?" she asked innocently.

He chuckled then, and caught her about the waist to give her a hard hug. "You've made your point, sister. I guess I can't lose anything by asking."

Jessie stepped back, wrinkling her nose and wiping her hands on her pants. "Best take a bath first. You don't want her to swoon before she has a chance to answer you."

She barely got the last word out before she squealed and started running.

Chapter Forty-six

“You’re the first to know, dear. I've decided to get married."

Jocelyn swung around in surprise, nearly knocking the lamp off the table next to her. "Vana! You hardly know Mr. Harwell. He's only been calling on you this past week!"

The countess chuckled. "I'm surprised you even noticed, you've been moping around here so much."

"I have not!"

"Well, I don't know what else you might call it. But never mind. And I'm not marrying that nice Em-mett Harwell, though I do have him to thank for making my dear Robbie jealous enough to ask me."

"Robbie?"

"And why not?" the countess said defensively at Jocelyn's bemused look. "If you can fall in love with a man entirely unsuitable to your station—"

"The devil take my station! And I don't love him either!"

"Of course you don't, dear."

Jocelyn glared. Vanessa was blissfully unmoved by it. Jocelyn finally turned away with a sigh.

"It would be rather stupid of me to love a man who doesn't love me, wouldn't it?" she said in a small voice.

"Oh, definitely."(

Jocelyn glanced over her shoulder with another glare. "Why aren't you telling me he's too surly, mean-tempered, dangerous—"

"Because he can't be all that bad or you wouldn't love him."

"He's not, but if you haven't noticed, he hasn't come calling."

"You may have to do the calling yourself, dear. I understand he has an aversion to this ranch. His sister confided to me that he nearly died here some years ago — good Lord, sit down! What did I say?"

Jocelyn waved the countess off from trying to drag her to a chair. "I'm all right. It would have been nice if someone had told me, though. What horrid irony."

"What is?"

"That I should have purchased this place."

"Yes, well, you're not exactly going to remain here long, only until the spring. And besides, he may want you to live up in the mountains with him, in his rustic little cabin."

"I wouldn't mind."

The countess made a face, for she had merely been trying to bring some levity to the conversation. "Let's not overdo it with the old 'sacrifice for the sake of love' rubbish. Let him do the sacrificing and get used to the finer things in life."