Jocelyn set her plate aside and then stretched before leaning back against the pillows scattered under the silken lean-to, which was set up for her luncheon each day. It was one of the luxuries she wouldn't need much longer. With the days as cool as they now were in late November, a shaded area in which to eat the noon meal wasn't necessary anymore, was only still being erected at Vanessa's insistence, since she was of the old school that believed a lady's skin should never be touched by the sun, even if it was a cold sun. She clucked her tongue disapprovingly over the slight golden tan Jocelyn had acquired by riding every day now that the torrid southern heat was bowing to winter.
Two weeks had passed since leaving Silver City. They'd dipped south briefly to get around the southern mountains, then ridden almost straight east, until they crossed the Rio Grande River and turned to follow it north. It was much easier traveling after that because they encountered the ancient El Camino Real, or Royal Highway, that stretched from Santa Fe, which they were heading toward, clear down to Mexico City. In fact, they could have used this old road, which had first served as a trade route more than three hundred years ago, if they hadn't originally planned on going to California.
According to Billy, the El Camino Real met up with the Santa Fe Trail, another old trade route. It had been established only some sixty years ago and would lead them out of the mountains, east again, and straight onto the Great Plains, which were the flat grasslands that reached clear into Canada. They'd also found out from Billy just how far away this Wyoming was. If they had known to begin with that it would take nearly two months to reach. but that was a moot point now, considering how far they had already come-.
The road, however, made for a less bumpy ride, and the scenery was lovely, with the San Andres Mountains on the right, the river on the left with more mountain ranges beyond it, trees now in abundance in magnificent fall colors, and even, for several days, the wideopen Jornada del Muerto valley to ex-ercise the horses in.
The desertlike quality of the land had not disappeared entirely, however. There was still cactus to be seen, white and purple sage and creosote bushes, long stretches of parched ground or even white sands, and very little grass other than grama, but they were accustomed to such after traveling so long in these southern regions.
Now, as they neared the Rocky Mountains and Santa Fe, which was only three days away, there were even more ranges on every side, and more lovely val-leys to explore. But Jocelyn didn't feel like exploring today. Her sigh must have suggested the same to Vanessa.
"It's not the heat, and the lunch was light enough," the countess remarked beside her. "Didn't you sleep well last night?"
"As well as usual," Jocelyn replied, which wasn't admitting much, since Vanessa was unaware of the many bad nights she'd been having recently.
She knew the cause, though that did nothing to alleviate the problem. She was simply suffering a long-drawn-out case of severe embarrassment over her conduct during the last encounter with Colt.
That blasted fight. She couldn't get it out of her mind, even two weeks later.
The very next day she had begun her monthly time, which she had eagerly used to excuse her uncalled-for tears that night, as well as her horrid behavior. But she still burned with shame every time she re-called how she had allowed Colt to reduce her to the role of a screaming shrew, complete with spite, de-rision, and malice. She hadn't known she had it in her. Well, how could she have, when she had never in her life acted like that before? But it would never happen again, by God. That she had promised her-self, a promise she would keep no matter what that heartless man did to provoke her — if he ever talked to her again.
She had seen him no more than twice in all this time, and then only from a distance when she was exercising Sir George. He had stopped coming into camp at all, not even to sleep. Where he bedded down at night was anyone's guess, though she suspected it wasn't that far away, since Billy rode out before dawn to meet him each morning to confer on the arrangements for the day, and he was never gone long.
She had missed Vanessa's next question. "What?"
"I asked if you were too tired for your ride today. I believe Sir George has already been saddled."
Jocelyn didn't budge from the pillow, nor did she open her eyes to answer. "Not too tired, Vana, but I don't really feel like it. One of the grooms can take him out."
"And what about Miles? You know how much he enjoys your rides together."
With a prickle of irritation, Jocelyn wondered when her friend was going to stop matchmaking. It simply wasn't working.
A very short while ago Jocelyn's interest would have been quite snared by such a man. In personality and looks he outshone Charles Abington, and she had seriously considered marrying Charles. But now there was another man she couldn't help comparing Miles Dryden with, and in her doing so, Miles wasn't quite as fascinating. He became too pale, too charming, too ingratiating. Even his misfortune could be picked apart to reveal a touch of cowardice. Colt wouldn't have run from failure to start over somewhere else. He wouldn't have stranded himself in a town, either, because of a close touch with death. And she couldn't imagine Colt standing by and doing nothing while someone robbed him. Indeed, no.
Devil take it, she had to stop thinking of that man, but she still didn't feel like riding, even for the diver-sion. "One day isn't going to crush him, Vana."
"I wouldn't be too sure. I believe he is quite smit-ten. Maura thinks so, and who would know better than his sister, whom he is most likely to confide in."
Jocelyn nearly snorted. The pair were as thick as thieves. If the man was smitten with anyone, it was with his sultry sister. She leaned up to see them walk-ing together near the clifflike banks of the river, deep in conversation.
Glancing at the countess, she said, "I suppose she told you that?"
"Indeed."
"Well, I wouldn't believe everything that girl tells you. IVe already caught her in one lie."
"What?"
"The other day she told me that her father had owned some of the finest racers in the eastern states, and that she so regretted their loss when everything had to be sold, even though she doesn't care to ride herself."
"So?"
"So the first time I allowed Miles to try Sir George, he remarked that he'd always wanted to own a Thor-oughbred, but that his family had only kept carriage horses, which were all that was necessary in the city."
Vanessa found that merely amusing, if her chuckle was any indication. "It's very common to want to impress someone of your stature, my dear. You should know that by now. The girl is merely a bit prideful and envious. That's nothing to be concerned over."
"I wasn't concerned. I just wouldn't accept everything she says as the literal truth."
"Very well. But in this instance, concerning Miles' affections, I'm inclined to agree with her. I've seen the way he dotes on you myself, after all. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if you don't get a proposal long before we reach the railroad that will take them back East."
"I wouldn't be surprised either."
Vanessa frowned. "So, you do know he's smitten. Whyever have we been arguing about it, then?"
Jocelyn grinned. "I wouldn't call this discussion an argument, Vana. And I didn't agree he's smitten."
"But you said—"
"That I wouldn't be surprised if he proposes. How many proposals have I had in the past three years?"
Vanessa sighed, "Too many to count. So you mink he's just another fortune hunter?"
"I'm afraid I do."
"You could be wrong, you know. Look at the attention he lavishes on you. And he's so deucedly handsome — and civilized, I might add."
That stung, so Jocelyn retorted, "He isn't likely to ignore me with my fortune on his mind."
"But what makes you so sure, my dear?"
"His eyes."
"His eyes?"
"Yes, the way he looks at me. There's nothing there, Vana, not even the tiniest spark of interest. Oh, he says all the right words, but his eyes belie every one of them. He's simply not attracted to me. But then few men are."
"More fools they," the countess said in her behalf. "It doesn't matter, dear. We weren't considering him for a husband, merely as an entertaining diversion, so don't let it bother you."
Jocelyn had to force down a smile. "I won't."
But Vanessa was having a hard time letting the idea go. "You're positive?" she asked after a moment.
This time Jocelyn did smile. "Vana!" And laugh. "He looks at you with much more warmth than he does me." At the countess's blush, she added, "Ah, you have noticed that, at least?"
"Well, I assumed you were receiving even more admiring looks," Vanessa said defensively.
"Now you know better. But don't fret about it. He has been entertaining, and quite amusing, which was partly what you hoped for, wasn't it?"
Again Vanessa blushed. "I meant well, my dear."
Jocelyn leaned over to hug her. "I know, and I love you for it. And you needn't worry about our mean-tempered guide anymore. If you haven't noticed, he's been avoiding me like the plague. It's quite over."
"Is it really?"
She didn't want to explain about the argument, not at this late date, so she said simply, "Yes." But knowing Vanessa wouldn't leave it at that, would start to pick it apart for her own assurance, she cowardly added, "I think I'll have that ride after all."