Texas Blonde

Chapter Four

When she had taken photographs of all the men, Felicity explained that they would have to stop the session for a few hours because the sun was too high. The shadows it cast would spoil the pictures.

Cookie managed to rustle up a cold meal, and soon the men drifted over to the house for dinner. Felicity could not help lingering alone in the yard for just a moment to stare longingly at the empty road one last time. She hated herself for missing him, for feeling hurt at the way he had snubbed her, but she couldn't seem to stop.

"How long do we have to wait?" Cody asked when at last she wandered into the dining room.

"A few hours," she replied, trying to match the other's enthusiasm. "When the sun starts slanting toward the west, it will be just right for photographing the house. I want to get some pictures of all of you in front of it."

This information excited the men all over again, and they began to discuss whether or not to change their clothes. Felicity listened to the conversation with only half an ear. She was straining to catch the sound of a wagon pulling up in the ranch yard.

On the drive out from town, Josh spent a good deal of time considering who this mysterious stranger might be. He figured that the man must be one of Candace's relatives, a brother or uncle if what Hankins had said about the resemblance was correct. What he could not credit, however, was Hankins's theory that the man meant Candace no good. After thinking it over, he realized that a black man, a former slave, traveling alone in Texas would have to be tough in order to survive. Hankins must have mistaken that toughness for evil, bestowing on the man a malevolence he did not possess.

This was the only explanation Josh could find since the very idea that a man would come halfway across the country for some sinister purpose against Candace was preposterous. He would still ask Candace about him, of course. The man might very well have arrived at the ranch already, making such an inquiry unnecessary, but if not, Candace would certainly want to know to expect him.

No longer feeling any urgency about his mission, Josh drove leisurely up to the ranch. He was a little surprised to find the yard deserted when he drove in, but he was pleased to note that the camera was still in position. He quickly surmised from the time that everyone had gone inside to eat. In an effort to distract his mind from thoughts of photographs-and photographers-he reminded himself that he had to see Candace.

Except that he could not find her. Having no other choice, he followed the sound of voices into the dining room.

"Hey, Mr. Logan! You're back!"

"Now Miss Felicity can make your picture!"

The men greeted him boisterously while Felicity tried very diligently not to react at all. She had heard his wagon in the yard, heard every one of his footsteps from the moment he entered the house. She calmly raised her head and looked at him. She would make him no offers. If he wanted his picture taken, he would have to say so.

"I thought you were finished out there," Josh said, stalling.

"Oh no," Cody explained helpfully. "We just had to stop because the sun got too high. We'll be starting up again any time now. We can do you first thing."

Josh knew an inexplicable anger at Cody's use of the word "we," but before he could reply, the very person he had been fruitlessly searching for appeared at his elbow.

"You'll have to change your clothes first, Mr. Josh," Candace ordered.

"I need to talk to you, Candace."

"Course you do," Candace agreed readily, taking his arm and drawing him out of the room. "I'll see he's ready," she called back over her shoulder to Felicity.

Candace did not stop until she had taken Josh into his own bedroom and closed the door. Josh appreciated the privacy.

"There's a man in town-" he began, but Candace wasn't listening.

"I ought to wear you out for what you did," she whispered furiously.

A little taken aback, Josh stared at her. "What did I do?"

"You insulted that poor little girl. She set this whole thing up just to show you how much she appreciates the way you took her in and then you go running off to town like you didn't have anything better to do. You hurt her feelings." Candace glared at him, crossing her arms over her chest.

Josh thought this over and supposed she was right. He hadn't really thought about Felicity's feelings in all of this.

Candace did not give him a chance to defend himself. "Now, you put on them clothes," she said, gesturing to the suit still laid out on the bed, "and get yourself out there and let her take as many pictures of you as she wants." Turning on her heel, she flounced to the door, but before she opened it, she turned back. "And if you're half the man I think you are, you'll apologize, too."

Josh swore as the door slammed behind her, but he wasn't certain if he was swearing at her or at himself. Furiously, he tore off his dusty clothes, all thoughts of the mystery man wiped completely from his mind.

Not quite certain that Mr. Logan would really allow her to photograph him, Felicity still gave her instructions to Cody, who enlisted a few helpers and headed back to the ranch house. While they were gone, she had some of the other men roll up the backdrop she had been using and hang up another one in a new position to take advantage of the altered position of the sun.

Cody and the other men soon returned with the items she had requested from the house, and she directed them on just how to arrange the scene. They put the bearskin rug down first in front of the backdrop and then placed the large wingbacked chair in the center.

Felicity knew she was silly to feel so apprehensive. Mr. Logan was no different from any other man she had ever posed, even if he had kissed her. Still, if he did let her photograph him, she wanted the picture to be the best one she had ever taken. She wanted a good photograph so she would have something to remember him by when…

Not letting herself finish that thought, she forced a bright little smile to her face when she heard the other men greeting him. But her smile froze in place, exactly the way her heart did, at the sight of him.

It was the clothes, she told herself. She'd rarely seen a man so finely dressed. He was wearing a black broadcloth suit that fit his broad shoulders and his long legs perfectly. His shirt was snowy white, and for one electric moment she wondered if it was the same one she had slept in that very first day.

"Come and sit down, Mr. Logan," she said stiffly, gesturing toward the chair.

Josh stepped forward, but he didn't sit immediately. Instead he examined the backdrop she had chosen for him. It looked like the wall in a very fancy house. A parlor house, Josh thought, disgusted.

Felicity studied the stubborn set of his jaw as he examined the backdrop, uncomfortably aware of how tall he was. The top of her head barely reached his shoulder. Last night she'd had to stand on tiptoe to… "Is anything wrong?" she asked hastily, struggling to banish that picture from her brain.

"No," he said, resigned to the inevitable, and seated himself in the chair. She stood in front of him, her small breasts directly in his line of sight. He stared for one long moment, recalling only too clearly how they felt pressed against him.

"Oh, dear!" Felicity cried, pressing a hand to her chest. For a second Josh thought she was trying to shield herself from his lascivious gaze. "I forgot to prepare the plate. Don't move," she cautioned him as she darted back to the wagon.

Inside the dark wagon, Felicity chastened herself for becoming so flustered. She would have to get a grip on herself. With fingers that trembled slightly, she carefully coated the next plate. By the time she exited the wagon and handed the plate holder to Cody, she was feeling much calmer.

She returned to posing her subject, noting with approval that he was wearing a new Stetson, not the stained one he usually wore. She lifted it carefully from his head.

"Hey, What're you doing?" he protested, reaching for it.

"I'm going to put it right here on your knee," she informed him, proud that she was able to treat him just as she had treated all the other men. "Now put your hand right here, like this, and hold it." With finger and thumb, she made a minor adjustment to the angle of his wrist, trying not to notice how warm his skin felt through the cuff of his shirt. He smelled clean and fresh, like outdoors, and faintly of tobacco, and so blessedly familiar. "Now rest your other hand on your other knee," she said a little breathlessly.

He obeyed, but she could tell from his expression that he wasn't very comfortable with the situation, either. Still being very careful not to touch him any more than necessary, she moved his hand slightly, appalled to note her fingers were trembling again.

It was only because he was staring at her, she decided. Yes, that had to be it. Felicity stepped back a pace to examine her handiwork. A lock of silver hair had been dislodged when she removed his hat and had fallen over his forehead. With great care, she reached over to smooth it back in place. She was a little surprised that it was so soft. Somehow she had expected his hair to be coarser, the way her father's gray hair had been. She let her fingertips play over it another second.

She was leaning over so close to him that Josh could, with very little effort, have kissed the tip of her breast. "Ahem." He cleared his throat.

Felicity jumped back, startled. "That looks fine," she said, scurrying back to focus the camera.

"Don't look so mean, boss," she heard Bill Grady say. "Looks like you're mad at somebody."

Josh knew he was mad at somebody, but he didn't like to think about who that somebody was. It would have to be the person who had gotten him mixed up with Miss Felicity Storm in the first place, and he could think of no one to blame for that except himself.

Felicity came out from under the cape. Mr. Grady was right. Mr. Logan looked mad, and she had a pretty good idea at whom. Still, she wasn't about to let him ruin her picture. "Mr. Logan?" she called sweetly.

Josh swung his gaze over to where she was standing looking like the picture of innocence. "What?" he asked warily.

"Would you like some nails?" she inquired.

Josh frowned in puzzlement. "Nails? What for?"

"Why, to chew, of course. That's just what you look mad enough to do," she explained.

A moment of silence followed her announcement, and then the men broke into loud guffaws. Josh needed a minute to realize he had been the butt of a joke. He could not remember the last time anyone had been bold enough to make fun of Joshua Logan. He should have been angry, but the sensation was so novel that he could only marvel at it. Candace was the only person in the world who dared to tease him, and now this tiny slip of a girl was making fun of him.

He knew she was getting a small measure of vengeance for his desertion this morning, but that no longer seemed to matter. He took her in from the top of her golden head to the toes of her shiny black shoes. Small she might be, but she was all woman. He knew that from the kiss that hadn't happened. How would she kiss him if she weren't frightened? A curious smile twitched at his lips.

"That's more like it," she decreed. "Now look right up here! Don't move! Ready?"

Felicity removed the lens cap and recited her little verse, stumbling once she noticed Mr. Logan was looking at her instead of at the camera, but recovering nicely.

Like a man hypnotized, Josh watched the way her soft pink lips formed around the words of the nonsensical rhyme, remembering how those lips tasted. Candace's suggestive words echoed in his mind. Yes, there were several things a sweet young wife could do for him that his mammy never could.

Felicity finished the rhyme, her voice trailing off uncertainly. It was funny the way Mr. Logan's eyes could make her feel hot and cold all at the same time, like she wanted to run away from him and toward him, both at once.

"Better put the cap back on," Cody urged, nudging her slightly.

Startled, she quickly snapped the cap back in place. What had gotten into her to start daydreaming like that? She might have ruined the picture! Hastily, she turned and instructed Cody to remove the plate holder from the camera, but he was already doing so. Feeling more foolish by the moment, she hurried over to the wagon, grateful when Cody followed her so that she could close the door on what she imagined were many pairs of staring eyes.

Actually, only two pairs of eyes were staring. One pair belonged to Josh. The other pair of staring eyes belonged to Candace, who had come outside to watch Joshua having his picture made. She hadn't missed a thing that passed between him and Felicity. She grinned to herself. Much as she would like to, when all was said and done, she would not be able to take any credit for getting Josh and Felicity together. No, Mother Nature could do that, or whoever it was who'd made Josh a man and Felicity a woman.

Inside the wagon, Felicity forced her jumping nerves into obedience again. "If you don't mind, Cody, I want to develop this plate myself," she said, hoping Cody wouldn't ask her why. She wasn't really sure why herself, since Cody had already proven that he could do a perfectly adequate job.

"All right," he said, setting the plate holder down and moving out of her way in the darkness.

"You're doing a fine job, and you can do the rest of them. I just want to do this one myself," she explained.

"I understand," Cody said. He sounded as if he really did, too. Felicity wished that she did.

Because Felicity did both the developing and the preparation of the new plate, the process took a little longer than the routine that she and Cody had established. Josh waited impatiently, resisting with difficulty the urge to bang on the door and demand to know what was keeping them. When they finally did come out, he felt inordinately relieved.

"You've done got everybody's picture now, Miss Felicity. Do you want us to start packing all this stuff up?" Grady asked.

"Oh no," Felicity replied, grateful for this distraction. For some reason she was having a very difficult time keeping her eyes from straying over to where Mr. Logan was standing. "I don't have everyone's picture yet. Where's Candace?"

The men thought this was a terrific idea, and they eagerly dragged her forward and presented her to Felicity. Candace was protesting rather vigorously, but Felicity noticed that she was wearing a gorgeous new calico dress and had her hair wrapped in a matching turban. No woman dressed that carefully just to watch other people get their pictures made. Felicity took great delight in posing her on the same set she had used for Mr. Logan.

"Now I'm going to take group pictures, and some shots of the ranch buildings," Felicity announced when she and Cody emerged from developing Candace's plate. "Could some of you men fetch a bench and put it over there? Cody, I'll need to have the camera moved to right about here," she instructed, using her heel to draw a mark in the dirt.

The men leaped to do her bidding. All except Josh, who could not seem to take his eyes off her. Surrendering to a compulsion to be closer, he moved up behind her and asked, "How'd my picture come out?"

Felicity started and whirled around. "It… it's very nice," she managed, although she felt a trifle breathless.

Josh studied her face. She looked awfully pretty when her cheeks turned pink like that. "How soon do I get to see it?"

"I… I don't know; a couple of days or so…" she murmured.

Josh was so interested in the way the sunlight was gleaming off her golden hair that for a moment her words didn't quite register. "A couple days?" he asked incredulously when they finally had. "Why will it take a couple days?"

Felicity thought she had already explained the procedure, but then recalled that he had not been present. "It takes another whole day to make the prints. They have to sit in the sun for a few hours, and then…" She let her voice trail off in the face of his scowl.

Josh felt a slight sense of unease. He had been counting on getting rid of her tomorrow. "You'll be all finished by tomorrow evening, though, won't you?" he asked, calculating that a few hours one way or the other shouldn't make that much difference.

Felicity's eyes widened in surprise. "I can't do the developing tomorrow," she said.

"Why not?" Josh demanded, feeling his unease growing. It was all some sly female trick. He knew it. She was making this all up just so she would have an excuse to stay longer.

"Because tomorrow is the sabbath," she informed him. "I can't work on Sunday!"

Josh stared at her in disbelief. She was serious! Before he could challenge her statement, however, someone called, "Where did you want this bench, Miss Felicity?" and she strode away to issue some more orders.

It might very well be a sly female trick, but it was a good one, he acknowledged. How could he fault her for being religious? How could he order her to finish up her work tomorrow when it was against her principles? She had him, and she had him good. She would be here another two days. At least.

"I want everyone in this picture," she called out when the bench had been positioned to her satisfaction with the ranch house directly behind it. "Mr. Logan, you sit right here in the middle. Mr. Grady and Cookie, you sit on either side of him. The rest of you line up behind…"

She kept on talking, moving people around so that everyone was lined up by height, and Josh found himself obeying her just the way everyone else did. He had decided it would be foolish to do otherwise.

By the time the sun began to fade, taking with it the last of the necessary light, Felicity was running purely on nervous energy. All day she had felt as she often did during thunderstorms when she and her father were alone on the prairie: scared and fidgety, with every nerve tingling in the electrically charged air. She could have blamed it on the excitement of her first time doing a photography session alone. She could even have blamed it on the heady sensation of being the center of attention for some very attentive cowboys. She knew that neither of those situations was responsible for her state, however. Mr. Logan was responsible.

Even though she had tried to forget about the kiss, had even succeeded in partially distracting herself with the work, there was something about his presence that shimmered in the air like a tangible glow, brightening Felicity's world and sharpening everything to crystal clarity. The timbre of his voice thrummed through her body, tingling places she didn't even have a name for, and making her feel as if she wanted to jump right out of her skin.

Or jump right into his arms.

That was really what made her so nervous, the memory of how wonderful she had felt in his arms, at least until he had frightened her. And the knowledge that she wouldn't mind being there again under the right conditions. Of course, there were no "right conditions." Such behavior was evil and wanton. She would do well to remember that and do what Mr. Logan had commanded and forget it ever happened. Except she couldn't.

So she was only too happy to announce, "I'm afraid this is the last one. I've lost the light," as she closed the lens cap on what seemed to be the umpteenth portrait that day. Back in the wagon, she stood by silently as she allowed Cody to develop the final negative.

He had caught on surprisingly quickly, but then, she reminded herself, she had, too, once upon a time. The job wasn't really difficult, just time-consuming. It was making the plates in the first place that required the skill, spreading the collodion evenly so that no bubbles or bumps would appear in the final pictures and so the plate could evenly absorb the exposure. Shooting the pictures themselves also required skill and an eye for what would look good in a photograph. The making of the final prints required yet another level of skill, to judge the length of time required to develop the proper tones.

"Miss Felicity?" Cody asked.

"Yes?"

"Do you think… I mean… could you teach me how to make pictures? How to do the plates and all the rest of it?"

The wagon was too dark to see his face, but Felicity could imagine the eagerness that would be lighting his eyes. She hated to have to turn him down.

"I can show you how to make the prints, and I'd be glad to show you the rest of it, too, except…" Her voice trailed off wistfully as she experienced a sharp jab of disappointment.

"Except what?" he urged.

Felicity sighed. "Except that I won't be around here much longer to teach you anything." There, she had said it, and it sounded even worse than she could have imagined.

"Where are you going?" he asked, genuine concern in his voice.

"I… I don't know," she admitted reluctantly.

She heard Cody turn to face her in the confines of the wagon. "What do you mean, you don't know?" he asked.

"I mean, I haven't decided yet," she amended, trying to soften the impact of her words, as much for her own benefit as for Cody's. "Mr. Logan has told me I can't stay here and-"

"I know. He told me that, too," Cody said. "But surely you'll settle someplace nearby."

"Like I said, I haven't decided yet," she said, feeling all the hopelessness of her situation.

"Don't you worry none," Cody comforted her. "Mr. Logan'll see that you're taken care of."

"Thank you, Cody," she said, grateful for his concern but uncertain whether she was grateful that Mr. Logan would be taking care of her. She found the idea quite disturbing.

Josh stood outside, leaning up against a live oak tree and smoking a cigarette. He was watching the wagon, waiting for Felicity-and Cody-to come out. The other men were busy carrying the props from the photographs back where they had come from, but Josh was only vaguely aware of their movements at the corner of his range of vision. All his attention was focused on the wagon. All his thoughts were focused on the occupant of the wagon.

So she was going to be around for a while, he thought, knowing that the fact should disturb him but only mildly surprised to find he was rapidly getting used to the idea. She really was a pretty little thing. And she could cook. And although he hadn't kissed another woman in quite a while, he could not remember ever enjoying it more. Felicity. Even her name had a pleasant sound about it.

Candace had been watching the direction of Josh's gaze and finally strolled over to where the rancher was standing. "What do you suppose is taking them so long?" she asked casually.

Josh frowned. He had been wondering the same thing himself. He threw down his cigarette and ground it out with his boot heel. Then he strode purposefully over to the wagon.

Just as he reached it, though, the door came open, and Felicity stepped out. "All we have left to do is put the camera away…" She completely forgot what she was saying when her gaze met Mr. Logan's. "Is something wrong?" she asked, certain that there must be from the look on his face.

Cody ducked out the wagon door behind her and reared back at the sight of Mr. Logan's expression.

Josh looked at her and then at Cody and then back at her again, comforted by how innocent they both looked. If Cody had designs on the girl, he was moving very slowly. Josh forced his tensed muscles to relax and managed a reassuring smile. "No, nothing's wrong. I was just coming over to see if you were about finished."

"Almost," Felicity murmured, a little nonplussed by the sight of his smile. "We just have to…" His eyes narrowed, making her lose her train of thought again.

Cody watched the exchange in fascination, knowing that neither of them was even aware of his continued presence. "I'll get the camera," he offered, but they paid him no mind.

"Hey, Cody," Gus called from across the yard. "We're all going into town tonight. You coming?"

It was Saturday night. They always went to town on Saturday night. Cody considered his options. "No," he called back. "I'm broke. I'll just stay here." And see what happens, he added silently.

Josh thought it surely must be time for bed. He was certain the four of them had been sitting in the parlor for hours. Unfortunately, when he glanced at the clock on the mantel, he saw that barely an hour had passed since supper.

He looked around the room. Candace was sitting off in the corner, quietly sewing and looking very smug about something. Josh shifted in his chair, the same chair that Felicity had photographed him in earlier that day. He let his gaze wander over to where Felicity and Cody were sitting on the settee.

The two of them were deep in conversation, Cody's brown head bent over her golden one, an expression of intense interest on his boyish face. Of course there would be, Josh thought acidly. The boy had every reason to be intensely interested. But he doubted that Cody was really all that concerned about photography, which was ostensibly the topic under discussion. Nobody was that interested in photography. The boy had Felicity fooled, though. She was explaining it all to him with an earnestness that indicated she was afraid he might just keel over and die if he didn't fully understand the process.

Felicity tried not to notice that Mr. Logan was staring at her. Again. He'd been watching her on and off all evening, as if he expected her to do something untoward. Earlier, after she and Cody had packed everything away for the night, she had gone into the house and washed up in preparation for supper. When she got to the dining room, the two men were there waiting, and she experienced the oddest sensation that they were waiting there for something special to happen. Nothing did, however, or at least nothing that she was aware of, and the meal passed in strained silence. With all the other men except Cody gone to town, she had nothing to distract her from the fact that Mr. Logan kept glancing up at her throughout the entire meal. It was very unsettling.

After she had helped Candace clean up the few dishes, she discovered Mr. Logan and Cody sitting in the parlor, looking every bit like two dogs about to quarrel over the same bone. But as soon as she entered the room, the two of them suddenly cheered right up and started acting as if they'd always been the best of friends. Mr. Logan even teased Cody a little about becoming a photographer himself. That was what had gotten the conversation started, and Felicity had been only too happy to begin his instruction. Talking to Cody kept her mind off the fact that Mr. Logan kept watching her.

Josh knew it was crazy, but he couldn't seem to help himself. He kept remembering what Candace had said about a wife. A sweet young wife. He could not seem to get the idea out of his head. Almost unconsciously, he compared Felicity to the other women who had been thrown in his way through the years. None were even half as pretty as Felicity. And none of them kissed like her, either. No wonder he had never seriously considered marriage before.

A vision of Felicity the way she had looked that first morning, wearing only his shirt and standing silhouetted in front of the window, flickered across his memory with tantalizing clarity. For one long moment he imagined what might have happened if he had come up behind her and slipped his arms around her. He vividly remembered how she felt in his arms, soft and warm and round in all the right places. Josh shifted in his chair again, wondering why the room had suddenly grown so warm.

His gaze drifted over to the couple on the settee again. Cody was obviously smitten, and Josh recalled how the boy had mentioned marriage only last night. Would Cody really have the nerve to propose to her? And if he did, would she accept? Cody was good-looking enough but awfully immature, although Felicity might not notice that, since they were probably about the same age. Cody didn't have anything to offer her, either. As a cowboy he only earned thirty dollars a month and didn't even have a room of his own. Josh had it all over Cody when it came to that. He was a successful rancher with a fine home-hadn't Felicity said that very thing with her own lips? He could give her things she'd never had, things much fancier than gingham or calico dresses.

He wouldn't make the mistake his father had made, though. He wouldn't fall in love with her. That was what tore a man's guts out, whether the woman stayed or not. Josh would never trust his heart to any female ever again, not after what his mother had done. A woman could make a man's life hell. He recalled only too clearly his father's trials with his mother and how she had finally deserted them both for her family back East.

But Felicity didn't have a family back East, or anywhere else, for that matter. She would have no place to run away to, no one to shelter her except him. And she wasn't a bit like his mother anyway. His mother had known another kind of life, an easier life, far from the frontier, but Felicity knew only hardship and poverty. What Josh could offer her would be the most luxury she had ever known. Why would she ever want to leave it? Or him?

The longer Josh considered the idea, the more appealing it became. A wife, just what he'd been needing-although he might not have realized it until now. A woman to share his bed. And children to keep his ranch alive. Felicity was a perfect candidate to provide him with both. She'd be so grateful to him, she couldn't possibly want to leave. And she was so pretty, he knew he'd never mind having her around.

In fact, just the thought of having her in his bed, to do with as he pleased, made his mouth go dry. Even her name, Felicity, had a soothing sound, suggesting quiet nights and peaceful days. Josh almost sighed aloud.

Putting her sewing aside, Candace got up from her chair in the corner. She came slowly across the room to the hearth, picked up the poker, and prodded encouragingly at the fire. Then she turned to Josh, whose chair was nearby. She gave him a long, considering look. When she had his full attention, she lifted her elegant eyebrows and inquired softly, "Are you gonna let him steal her right out from under your nose?"

Josh briefly considered telling Candace exactly where she could go to mind her own damn business, but he didn't bother. First of all, she probably believed that Josh was her business. Secondly, he had just asked himself that very same question.

"No, I'm not," he informed her, and turned his determined gaze back to the couple on the settee.

Felicity was gritting her teeth. Just who did he think he was to sit there staring at them like that, as if they were doing something indecent? Even poor Cody had finally noticed and was squirming under the intense scrutiny of those gray eyes. She had a notion to ask Mr. Logan if he saw her petticoat showing or something, but she was afraid such delicate sarcasm might be wasted on him. For a long moment she indulged herself by imagining what else she might have said if she hadn't been a lady.

"It's getting late, Cody," Josh said at last. "You better hit the hay."

Cody wanted to protest that it wasn't late at all,, but something in Mr. Logan's expression stopped him. Cody couldn't imagine what had gotten into the man. Earlier, Cody had suspected his boss of being attracted to the girl, but he certainly showed no sign of it now. In fact, he'd never seen Mr. Logan looking so disagreeable. "Yeah, I reckon I better," he said, only too glad to escape Mr.

Logan's scrutiny.

Felicity breathed a sigh of relief. Soon she would be alone, away from those condemning gray eyes. As Cody rose, she rose, too, and wished him a good night. Then she turned to Mr. Logan, prepared to see him leaving, too, but he wasn't. He was just sitting there. Staring. She gritted her teeth again. Now what was he up to?

Seeking support, she glanced over to the corner where Candace had been sitting but found her chair empty. How long had the woman been gone? Felicity could not remember anything past the time Candace got up to poke the fire. Had Mr. Logan told her to leave? Had he planned for them to be alone? He was certainly doing his best to get rid of Cody.

What was he going to do? Was he going to try to kiss her again? And if he did, what should she do? Felicity swallowed with effort as she realized the question really was what would she do? She knew instinctively he would not force himself on her. If she struggled, he'd let her go as he had before. If she screamed, Candace could hear her out in her little cabin behind the house or Cody would come running from the bunkhouse. The problem was, she didn't think she wanted to scream or struggle or resist at all. Panic welled up in her, stretching her nerves taut until they seemed to hum in her ears.

Josh studied her face, easily reading her anxiety. That would work in his favor. Of course, he didn't plan to propose or anything, not just yet. He'd feel her out on the subject a little first, see what her initial reaction was to the idea. If she was too eager, he'd back off, knowing she only had designs on the wealth and security marriage to him would bring.

He briefly considered the possibility that she might refuse him completely, but then dismissed it. What other choice did she have, after all? She needed wealth and security. He could give her what she had never had: a home. That seemed more than a reasonable exchange for what she would give him in return.

When Cody had gone, Felicity remained standing for a long moment, hoping against hope that Mr. Logan would take the hint and leave, too. But he didn't, so then she thought about simply going off to bed herself, except she felt uncomfortable at the idea of going to her bedroom with him watching her. He wasn't going to leave, that much was certain, she realized at last.

Resignedly, she seated herself on the settee once again, smoothing her skirts perhaps a little more than absolutely necessary. "I think you'll be very pleased with the photographs I took today," she said to break the uncomfortable silence.

Well, that was as good a subject as any, Josh decided, playing along. "I'm sure I will," he replied. "You seem to know quite a bit about photography."

"My father was a good teacher," she said, sadness clouding the blue of her eyes for a moment.

Josh hadn't intended to dredge up unpleasant memories, but on the other hand, it was a perfect opening. "Have you given any more thought to where you're going to go and what you're going to do?" he asked with what he hoped was appropriate concern.

Felicity eyed him warily, not quite trusting his concern. "There really isn't all that much to think about, is there? I mean, I don't know anyone except you…" Mortified, Felicity stared at him, feeling the heat burning her cheeks. She hadn't meant to say that. Now he would think… What would he think?

Josh watched the gingham tighten briefly over her breasts and then forced his gaze back to her reddening face. A little disturbed over her response, he narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Was it possible she was not as innocent as she appeared? Could she have set this whole thing up to trap him? "You know that you can't stay here," he said, testing her.

"Oh yes," she quickly agreed, eager to correct the impression she had given.

"Truth to tell, the fact that you've been here several days already, unchaperoned, looks pretty bad," he continued, leaning back in his chair to watch the effect of his words.

Felicity's eyes widened. She had not considered this possibility. Of course, no one around here knew her, so she really had no reputation to tarnish. But if she stayed in the area, this could ruin her. "I… I didn't realize…"

Josh relaxed. She seemed genuinely upset. If she had designs on him, she would now be demanding that he give her the protection of his name. Instead, she was shocked by the magnitude of her problem. All he had to do was solve it for her. "There is one way you could stay here and everything would be completely proper," he remarked.

"What?" she asked absently, preoccupied with her predicament.

"If you were a married woman, living here with your husband, then nobody would think twice about it," Josh pointed out reasonably, liking the way he had phrased it, making it sound as if he might have been marrying her off to anyone except himself.

Felicity stared at him in complete surprise. To whom was he planning to marry her off? He couldn't possibly think she was interested in any of the men. Or maybe he did. He might think she liked Cody more than a little from the way she had let the boy help her today. That would explain why Mr. Logan had been watching them so closely all evening. For some reason she did not fully understand, she did not want Mr. Logan to think she liked Cody. "But there's nobody on the ranch I want to marry," she explained quickly, knowing even as she spoke that it was a lie. There was one man she would consider, but of course, he would never…

"There isn't?" Josh asked. Either she was a very good actress or else she had really not considered the possibility of marrying him. The thought should have pleased him, but it did not. Perversely, he felt annoyed. "What about me?" he demanded.

Felicity stared at him in surprise. He was teasing her. He had to be. This was all some great, ugly joke. Unfortunately,

Felicity did not feel like laughing. "Don't be silly," she said faintly.

Josh stood up, slowly and deliberately. "Why is it silly?" he asked, placing his hands on his hips in silent challenge. This wasn't at all the reaction he had expected from her. She didn't even seem to consider him a viable candidate.

If he could see himself at this moment, Felicity thought, he wouldn't even need to ask why the idea was ridiculous. Standing there like a conquering general in the midst of his fine home, a bearskin rug (which he no doubt had bagged himself) stretched out at his feet, his silver hair gleaming in the firelight and his handsome face twisted into a frown, he was just about the last man on earth whom anyone would pair up with little Felicity Storm. She didn't want to say all that, though. Casting about in her mind, she came up with a more practical-sounding reason. "Well, you're a little old for me."

"Old?" he repeated, completely puzzled and not even certain he had understood her correctly. How could she possibly think he was too old for her? There couldn't be more than ten years difference in their ages, and on the frontier even a difference of twenty years or more wasn't considered excessive. For a moment he thought she must be grasping at straws, but one look at those guileless blue eyes convinced him otherwise. Her objection was perfectly sincere. Another, very unsettling, thought occurred to him. "Just how old do you think I am?" he inquired.

Felicity thought this an odd question and certainly one she was loath to answer. No one liked to have his age guessed incorrectly, as Felicity knew from bitter personal experience, and she had no definite concept of his age. But she also knew that he was going to insist on an answer. She studied his face. He wasn't as old as her father had been, because he didn't have nearly as many wrinkles, but she also knew he must be pretty close to her father's age because of his white hair. She swallowed and ventured, "Forty?"

"FORTY!" Josh shouted, making her jump. "I'm TWENTY-EIGHT," he informed her, taking what she interpreted as a threatening step toward her.

Felicity sprang to her feet in instinctive self-defense and said, "Oh." She couldn't think of anything else.

"What made you think I was forty?" he demanded, feeling more affronted than he knew he should.

She made a vague gesture toward his head. "Your hair…" she said feebly, trembling in an agony of embarrassment. She should have known better than to respond to such a question in the first place. Now she had made him angry.

"All the men in my family go gray at an early age," he explained, forcing himself to sound calm again. If he wasn't careful, she would soon be cowering, and who could blame her? He had no excuse for hollering at her. She had made an honest mistake, and from the look on her face, she honestly regretted it.

"I… I'm sorry," she murmured, "I didn't know…"

Of course she didn't, Josh reminded himself. She was awfully young. Anyone with white hair must seem quite old to her. Although he was still a little disgruntled, Josh managed to conceal it. In a perfectly reasonable voice, he asked, "Do you have any other objections to me, now that you know I'm not too old?"

This time Felicity couldn't prevent her mouth from falling open. He actually looked as if her answer mattered to him, and mattered a great deal. She was having a time of it, what with having to completely readjust her opinion of him in light of the fact that he was no longer old enough to be her father. On top of that, he wanted her to all of a sudden come up with any objections she might have to him as a possible husband. The whole situation was more than a little overwhelming. "Mr. Logan, you can't be serious!" she protested, certain that he wasn't.

"Why not?" he asked, taking another step toward her. At least she didn't flinch this time.

Felicity wanted to stamp her foot in frustration. This conversation couldn't really be happening. She must be having a nightmare. "Mr. Logan, you can't possibly want to marry me," she said, sure that in doing so, she would bring him to his senses and make him stop asking her such outlandish questions.

Josh watched her azure eyes cloud over and knew that she really believed that. "What makes you so sure I can't possibly want to marry you?" he asked, almost as concerned as he was curious. That lovely face hid nothing of her emotions. He knew she wasn't just being coy with him.

Felicity shook her head in wonder. Didn't he have any idea of the gulf that separated them? "I'm a penniless orphan, a nobody," she explained patiently, "and you, you're Josh Logan." She made a gesture with her hand to indicate the scope of her statement, that not only was he Josh Logan, the man, but he was Josh Logan, the rancher. If that didn't convince him of the differences between them, nothing would.

Josh frowned in disapproval. "I'm not exactly a prince, you know. I can still marry anyone I want to. She doesn't have to be royalty, for God's sake."

"You shouldn't use the Lord's name in vain, Mr. Logan," she murmured in an attempt to distract him while she busily considered something else entirely. At some point, the focus of this conversation had shifted. In the beginning, he had been suggesting that she marry someone else. Now he was insulted because she didn't want to marry him. In fact, he seemed determined to convince her that she should marry him. Why would he do that, unless… An incredible thought occurred to her. "Mr. Logan, are you… did you… I mean, you couldn't have…"

"What?" he urged impatiently.

Felicity swallowed hard and forced the question past her reluctant throat. "You aren't trying to say that you've fallen in love with me, are you?" Saying it aloud made her feel even more a fool than thinking it had, but it was the only explanation that might justify his strange behavior. That would certainly explain why he had kissed her. What she didn't want to admit, even to herself, was how very appealing the idea was.

Josh frowned. That was a woman for you. All they could think about was love. It would be easy to tell her that yes, he had fallen madly in love with her and couldn't live without her. Then she would get all mushy and touched and would probably agree to marry him just to put him out of his misery. Josh would never tell a lie like that, though. He had no intention of falling in love with her, now or at any time in the future. Neither did he want her to think she had that sort of hold on him. "Well, no," he admitted, "but I don't think that's so very important…"

"Well, I do!" Felicity cut in, unaccountably stung and unreasonably disappointed. "Do you want to spend the rest of your life with someone you don't love? I certainly don't!"

The fact that she didn't love him either should not have surprised him, but somehow it did anyway. It was a remarkably unpleasant surprise, too. Josh found himself fighting a bitter disappointment and struggled to regain control of the situation. How could his plans have gone so far awry? He had thought that her desperate need for a home was more than strong enough to compel her to accept his proposal, but apparently he had been mistaken.

Her words echoed back to him in challenge, however, especially the words "the rest of your life." She considered marriage a lifetime commitment. He liked that, and he already knew she was everything he wanted in a wife. He'd be a fool to let her go. If reason could not convince her, if she demanded emotions, he could stir her emotions. Recalling the way she had surrendered, however briefly, to his kiss, he knew that with a few more kisses, he could make her think that she was in love with him. That love would be just one more link in the chain that bound her to him.

Felicity was regretting her hasty words. She had been so careful not to rile Mr. Logan up until now, and a good thing, too, judging from the strange look on his face. When he reached for her, she knew a moment of sheer panic. "Don't!" she protested in the instant before she realized his true intent. By the time she did realize it, she was unable to say anything.

His mouth came down on hers with determined force, not roughly but with a power she could not have denied, even if she had wanted to. For a moment she felt awkward, staring up at him with her eyes so close to his face. The feel of his mouth on hers was more alarming than exciting, but then he pulled her to him and her eyes closed of their own volition. Left in darkness, her body remembered their first kiss. She tuned in to other sensations, the hardness of his chest beneath the hands she had raised instinctively to ward him off, the strength of the arms embracing her, the gentleness of the hands caressing her back.

His lips shifted against hers, demanding a response. Without meaning to, she was suddenly kissing him back. Her hands slipped up and over his shoulders until she was clinging to him. Her breath came quickly, filling her senses with his musky, masculine scent and making her weak with some nameless longing. When he ended the kiss, she knew a deep regret.

Josh lifted his face a fraction of an inch from hers to draw a rasping breath. "Oh, Lissy," he whispered in wonder, instinctively reverting to the nickname she had revealed to him the first time he had ever held her. She was like warm honey in his arms, all liquid sweetness. When her eyes flickered open, he knew she was slightly dazed and hadn't a clue as to what he was doing to her.

She started to say something, but when her pink lips parted, he swooped down on them again. Taking advantage, he slipped his tongue inside, teasing first the sensitive skin inside her lips before plunging past her teeth to taste of her essence. Her startled gasp told him that he was the first to ever do so. He vowed he would also be the last.

Felicity knew what Mr. Logan was doing was wicked, but she didn't care. She should have pushed him away and slapped his face, as any properly brought-up young lady would have. She should have at least struggled free as she had before. Instead her hands were clutching at his shirt as if she would never let him go. In truth, she didn't think she ever wanted to.

She did try to push his tongue out of her mouth with her own, but she failed miserably. Instead of ending the peculiar invasion, she only encouraged it. As her tongue tangled with his in a moist duel, he groaned, pulling her closer still, until her breasts flattened against his chest and she could feel his heart pounding against her own. Someone made a funny sound, almost like a moan, but she could not have said which one of them it was.

His mouth left hers then, allowing her to breathe just in time. One more second of his passionate assault and she would have fainted dead away, but before she could fully form the thought, she was distracted by another assault. Tender lips trailed across her cheek to caress the delicate shell of her ear, exploring curves and hollows and sending delicious shivers coursing down the length of her body. Long fingers tangled in her hair, urging her head back to allow him access to the silken length of her throat, access she granted willingly. This time she knew the moan came from her own throat as she voiced her disappointment that the modest neckline of her dress barred him from other parts of her that ached for his touch.

Strong hands clutched at her hips, molding her to him, lifting her on tiptoe into the cradle of his thighs. He breathed her name again, calling her "Lissy," the name that those who loved her most always called her. Something inside of her began to melt.

The next thing she knew, the bearskin rug was against her back and he was looming over her. His hand was on her breast, where she knew it shouldn't be, but when she tried to push it away, he kissed her, drowning all her protests in a tide of new sensation. This time, when his mouth left hers, her body was pliant and yielding. She was only slightly shocked when his lips encountered no cloth barriers as they moved down the column of her throat. Cool air touched her chest, and she vaguely realized that he had unbuttoned her bodice. But when his breath warmed her, she no longer minded.

One strong arm cradled her while the other caressed. His large hand cupped first one tiny breast and then the other, slipping beneath the sheer fabric of her chemise to gently coax them. Instinctively, she arched into his touch, even while some distant voice of reason sounded a warning. This was wrong, even more wrong than his strange kisses had been. Feebly, with the last ounce of her free will, she pushed his hand away. He did not resist, but before she could register her victory, his mouth replaced his hand, capturing one pouting nipple in moist warmth.

Felicity gasped as the twinge started by his lips raced downward and spasmed between her legs. The melting that had begun earlier finished now, seeping out to dew the insides of her thighs. "No," she whispered, even as she buried her fingers in his silver hair to hold him to her.

The word was no more than a puff of sound, as quickly forgotten as uttered. She strained against his mouth, offering herself more fully to him. He suckled gently, teasing and tormenting first one pink tip and then the other until she was writhing with want.

She could no longer hear that warning voice. The blood pounding in her ears had drowned it out. The only sounds now were his rasping breath scorching against her tingling flesh and her own tiny cries of need. When his hand found her knee underneath the tangle of her skirts, she did not think it odd for him to be touching her like that. Instead she moved under his hand, inviting his caress and encouraging his further invasion.

Josh ran his hand up her thigh, touching at last the slender curves he had remembered so many times. He had only intended to kiss her a few times, but somehow a few kisses were simply not enough. The fragrance of her skin was like an opiate, singing in his blood, and like a true addict, he craved more. Much more. She fairly purred as he stroked her, snapping his tenuous hold on reason. His unfulfilled need became a searing agony, a descent into the dark pit of loneliness and despair. Only she could save him. He had to have her. He had to have her completely.

Felicity moaned a protest when he withdrew, but then he was holding her in a new way, lifting her, the way he had that very first day, except this time his mouth was on hers. She clung to him shamelessly. Then he was laying her down again, on something soft and cool. Her eyes flew open and she caught a glimpse of yellow curtains. They were in her bedroom. On her bed!

This was wrong, so very wrong, and she pulled her mouth from his. "No, don't," she said frantically.

But his hand was on her breast, stroking so gently. "I won't hurt you, Lissy," he said.

He kissed her again, and she believed him. The kisses went on and on, drugging her, robbing her of reason and will until she once again lay pliant in his arms, lost in a world of sensation as his lips explored her body. She gasped when he trailed his fingers over the sensitive skin of her inner thigh to cup her center through the barrier of her pantalettes. She tensed at this most intimate intrusion, but she had no will to stop him.

When his fingers found the fastening of her drawers and then slipped inside to stroke the quivering skin beneath, her breath caught on a strangled sob. When his fingers slipped lower to tangle in the nest of curls that cloaked her womanhood, she stiffened in protest. He shouldn't be touching her there. No one should ever touch her there. It was wrong, wrong, wrong. Her body didn't seem to know that, though, and even as her mind screamed objections, her hips lifted to his touch. She cried out in surprise when he found her most sensitive spot. "Please, don't," she begged, but he paid her no mind, probably because her traitorous hands were clutching at him much too eagerly.

As his fingers stroked, Felicity's world faded, narrowing down until even he disappeared and only she existed in a place warm and wonderful. Strange colors danced behind her eyelids as the melting in her loins spread living flame throughout her entire body. The flame grew hotter and then hotter still, stoked by the man she could no longer see but whose hands she mindlessly obeyed.

She took his weight willingly, clutching him to her. The pain was swift, but even more swiftly forgotten. She was going to die, she knew she was. She was going to burst into flames and die, but even if they were the fires of hell, she could no longer resist them. With a strangled cry, she surrendered herself, falling headlong into the conflagration.

As one emerging from a dream, Felicity returned slowly to the real world. Spasms still shook her, but they were fainter now, and not the earthquakes they had been. At last they died away, leaving her weak and boneless. The weight that was crushing her shifted and someone groaned, startling her out of her fog.

When her eyes flew open, she saw that she was lying on the bed in the yellow room. Her bed. Summoning all her courage, she turned her head slightly to the right and found him lying beside her. He, too, looked as if he had experienced a cataclysm. His body trembled slightly, and he lay with one arm thrown across his eyes. His breath came in gasps.

Suddenly she realized her state of undress, the shameful way she was lying, completely exposed. The horror of what she had done, of what she had let him do, closed in around her, and she cringed away from him. A small sound of anguish escaped her as she turned from him and hastily, with fingers that shook in the aftermath of passion, jerked her skirt down and began to refasten her bodice.

"Are you all right?" Josh asked with concern, instantly recognizing the irony of the question. He himself was far from all right. Something had happened to him, something more than just the satisfying physical release he had craved so urgently. For the first time in his life he felt vulnerable, as if his soul had been scraped bare and lay open to attack.

It must be guilt, he told himself, guilt over the way he had seduced her and stolen her innocence when she was under his protection. Yes, the guilt was certainly a part of it, but that did not completely explain the debilitating weakness that seemed ready to suck, leechlike, on his heart.

In self-defense, he swiftly adjusted his own clothes and pushed himself up to a sitting position. She had not replied to his question, but he could see from the way her slight body trembled that she was as unstrung as he. Of course, he realized, she would be even more unstrung since she had been a virgin. Obviously, she had not even guessed he shared her anguish over what had happened. And she would not guess it, he decided, forcing aside his guilt and the other feelings he did not understand. He might have seduced her, but he had no intention of abandoning her. He would make things right.

The need to conceal his churning emotions made his voice gruffer than it might otherwise have been. "Now will you marry me?"

"What do you mean, you lost her?" Richard Winthrop demanded of the man behind the desk.

Asa Gordon shuffled through the papers on his desk with one beefy hand and, finding the one he wanted, glanced up at Winthrop. "According to the report, our operative found a traveling photographer answering Storm's description," he explained tonelessly. "The man had a daughter named Felicity. Our operative was very discreet. He had his picture made and engaged the girl in conversation. Unfortunately, our operative must have alerted the old man in some way, because when he went back to pick up his photograph, they were gone. From what he could gather, they left sometime in the night and no one knows exactly where they went. The operative has, as yet, been unable to pick up their trail."

Richard Winthrop's handsome face grew dull red as he absorbed this information, and he straightened the vest of his tailor-made suit in an impatient gesture. "I would have thought you'd put a competent man on this case, Gordon," he sneered.

Asa Gordon had been a Pinkerton detective for the better part of fifteen years, and he had extensive practice at concealing his true emotions. He used every bit of his training now to hide his contempt for Richard Winthrop. "Smythe is one of our best men," he said calmly, looking down his nose at the smaller man seated across the desk from him.

"My uncle will be very displeased to hear this report," Winthrop informed him. "As you may know, Uncle Henry is a personal friend of Allan Pinkerton. I could have your job for this!"

Gordon raised his eyebrows in mock amazement. "If you want my job, you're welcome to it, Winthrop, but somehow I can't see you as a detective," he said, ignoring Winthrop's outraged gasp. "You may inform your uncle that I will be going to Texas myself to follow up on this case. Storm and the girl have been found and lost too many times now for my peace of mind."

"If you're expecting a bonus for service above and beyond the call of duty, you'll be disappointed, Gordon," Winthrop said, rising regally to his full five feet five inches and enjoying the rare opportunity of actually looking down at Gordon, who still sat behind the desk. "Uncle Henry has already spent a fortune on this search. I won't authorize anything extra."

Asa Gordon grinned expansively. "Pinkerton men aren't allowed to accept bonuses, Mr. Winthrop," he replied with exaggerated civility.

"Well, I never…" Winthrop blustered, but he quickly recovered his dignity. "I will inform my uncle, but as I said, he will not be pleased."

Winthrop turned on one well-shod heel and moved with practiced grace toward the door, snatching his derby hat from the hat rack on his way out.

"Oh, and Winthrop?" Gordon called after him. When Winthrop turned warily back, Gordon added, "Give Henry my best, will you?"

Asa winced at the way the glass in his office door rattled when Winthrop slammed it behind him, but he was still smiling. Irritating Richard Winthrop was only part of what was making him so cheerful. The other part was the thought of traveling to Texas.

Gordon had spent some time there during the war, working undercover as a Union spy under Allan Pinkerton's direction. Although his stay had been brief, he could still remember the vast unsettled regions and knew a longing to once more see the sky uninterrupted from horizon to horizon.

He hauled himself up out of his desk chair and glanced with jaded eye out the window at the carriages manuevering in the street below. How long since he had slept under the stars or ridden a horse simply for the joy of it? Too long, he decided, absently rubbing the slight paunch he had developed during the last year. At first he had been pleased to be appointed superintendent of the Philadelphia office. The promotion meant a raise in salary and an end to the shadowy, unsettled life of a detective. Unfortunately, it also meant an end to the excitement. Instead of capturing criminals and gathering evidence and solving crimes, he had to deal with men like Richard Winthrop.

Gordon ran a hand through his curly brown hair and sighed. He would explain to Mr. Pinkerton that he was taking this case as a personal favor to an old friend and leaving the office in the very capable hands of his assistant for a while. Then, if he found Texas to be a disappointment, he could come back with no problem. But Asa Gordon had a feeling Texas would not be a disappointment.

He would find Felicity Storm and her father, and with any luck at all, he would find something for himself as well. He would soon be forty years old. He did not plan to get much older without finding that something else.