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  "Beautiful legs,” he murmured, his hands moving to her knees and stroking up the front of her thighs. “Feels good, doesn't it?"

  Jessica didn't know. A powerful, deep throbbing had started inside of her and threatened to swallow up every thought in her head. Again the hand stroked up, now on her inner thigh, on skin so sensitive that she pressed her knees together in reflex, both to hold off the burgeoning sensation and to retain it. Travis stroked up again, into the silky hair where her thighs were pressed together, making her buttocks clench and flex. He smiled into her eyes, now wide open, and flicked his tongue across the joining of her lips as his hand moved down to curve gently around her knee and nudge it out and up so that he could lie between her legs. Her whole body clenched in last-minute rejection.

  "Don't be afraid now, love,” he murmured reassuringly, even as he moved carefully and she felt the pressure start. “What follows—"

  It wasn't going to work, she thought desperately. He was pressing harder into her, and there was no...

  "—is going to feel as good—” he whispered.

  He was going to hurt her. She felt something—Penelope had been—

  "—as what went before."

  Jessica's eyes flew open as, astonished, she felt him push deep into her body. And it didn't hurt, not after the first brief moment.

  "All right?” he asked as he lay still, his body over hers and in full possession.

  She nodded, thinking that next time she'd believe him. It wasn't terrible at all, and the first part had been—well, very nice. And she didn't think she'd disgraced herself by enjoying it, because he couldn't have known what she was feeling. Jessica wondered when he'd get off her. Although the sensation of him inside her was pleasant, even causing some of those little quivers she'd felt before, still he was heavy. Ah, there. He was drawing back. She began to edge her knee in.

  "Don't do that, love.” He balanced above her on an elbow and used his free hand to lift the other knee aside.

  Then he slid up into her again, and Jessica gasped. That was—he did the same thing again. And kept doing it. Jessica's hands closed urgently over his shoulders. Her whole world was tilting off its axis. He was winding her up like a music box. Tight. Too tight. He was going to break her spring, she thought in desperate incoherence as sensation built on sensation inside her and she had to dig her nails into his back to hold on, to keep from disintegrating.

  His breathing was rough against her ear now, and from her own throat tiny, pleading sounds came. “Soon, love,” he promised, and then her body turned from flesh to a million tiny glittering points of rapture. A moment later Travis shuddered deep inside her and gasped, “Ah, Jess.” He held her some moments longer as their breathing returned to normal. Then he rolled to the side and pulled her close in the circle of his arm.

  "Still frightened?” he asked, a smile warming his voice. Jessica shook her head. “Go to sleep,” he murmured, his arm tightening in a brief hug. He did. His breathing evened out almost immediately. Jessica took longer. Although she was drowsy, she stayed awake long enough to feel the sweat drying on her skin and his as the slight breeze brushed across their bodies, to slant her eyes curiously at his powerful nudity, outlined by the moonlight, to pull a sheet up lest a maid enter in the morning and find them without their nightclothes. Then she drifted off, too content to really give much thought to the momentous thing that had happened.

  As he had every morning of his life, Travis awoke before the first light of day. The difference this morning was that his wife lay beside him, sleeping. He looked down at Jessica and thought what a dark horse she was, so much more passionate than he could have expected, so much more loving than he deserved. Maybe Penelope Gresham, without meaning to, had already begun to pay him back for what he had lost seventeen years ago. She'd given him her daughter. Smiling at the thought, he bent to kiss his wife, and Jessica awakened to the touch of his lips on her shoulder.

  Even while the ripples of delight were still radiating out from that touch, he smiled into her sleepy eyes and said, “I have a wedding gift for you,” and he sprang out of bed, still quite nude, and strode to the curved-front walnut dresser with its heavy mirror.

  Jessica, because of the glass, could see both front and back of her husband and veiled her eyes. His privates looked much less intimidating this morning, but the rest of his body was corded with long, powerful muscles, rough with curling black hair, smooth with satiny brown skin. Even in the cool of early morning, the sight of Travis, with whom she had been so intimately entwined the night before, brought a flush of excitement over her and, as if in self-defense, her fingers closed in a tight fist on the edge of the sheet and drew it up modestly to her neck.

  "Hold out your hand,” he commanded, now back beside her on the bed. “Not that one."

  Jessica swallowed hard. He wanted the one holding the sheet. She changed hands while Travis laughed softly, and then she felt like a fool, for he had opened a blue leather box lined in cream silk and taken out a bracelet set with deep blue stones, sapphires she decided. The box held many jewels; her mother had such a set, which was called a parure. Travis lifted her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist, sending shivers all the way up the inside of her arm. Then he clasped the bracelet over the fine bones.

  "It's beautiful,” she gasped. She had never had a piece of jewelry so lovely, not even the pearls her mother and father had given her on her eighteenth birthday before she was sent away for yet another year.

  "Now the other hand,” he instructed. Jessica stopped staring at the bracelet and self-consciously changed hands on the sheet. Travis took the freed right hand and, under her wide-eyed gaze, carefully kissed each fingertip. Then he slid a magnificent sapphire ring onto her finger and pulled her close to him, breaking her hold on the sheet so that her breasts came bare against his chest as he bent to flick his tongue against the lobe of her ear. Jessica's breath whisked in sharply, but Travis was already threading a sapphire earring into the lobe he had kissed, then kissing and decorating the second.

  "Now the piece for your hair,” he murmured, reaching once more into the jewelry box. He took out an intricately wired gold and sapphire comb and laid it on the sheet where the fabric covered her thigh. Then he slid long fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck and tilted her head for a soft kiss before fanning the pale silk onto her shoulders and catching it up in the comb.

  "And now the best,” he whispered, taking up the necklace and fastening it carefully around her neck so that the heavy medallion fell between her breasts, which he cupped and lifted to his lips.

  At the touch of his mouth, Jessica trembled violently and let herself be borne back onto the sheets, only to find that he wanted to look at her. The sun was coming up in the window, streaming in soft buttercup light across their bed, and Travis, holding her wrists against the sheet, studied his handiwork. She twisted, embarrassed to be inspected.

  "Hold still, love,” he commanded. “I just need a moment to congratulate myself."

  She stilled in confusion.

  "I've got the color of your eyes exactly.” Then he bent over her, still holding her wrists to the bed, and murmured, “Now I'll have the rest of you,” as he began again to kiss her breasts, closer and closer to the tightened rose nipples, but too slowly.

  She wanted to moan with frustration and had to bite her lip to keep quiet, only to have her whole body jerk revealingly when at last his lips closed on her. Then she did moan, and toss, as he drew on the nipple, as he seemed to draw the very soul out of her. Every inch of her skin burned. Inside, the pulsing drumbeat restarted, even more overwhelmingly potent than it had been the night before, and she knew in a brief moment of panic that she had no control left over her body. Travis controlled her and was already moving to take his prize.

  "Wrap your legs around me,” he instructed, his voice low and urgent as he completed his first thrust.

  She did it, and Travis made a low, pleased growling sound in his throat and thrust again, his
hands under her to lift her closer, kneading her, thrusting until she gave herself over, mind and body, to the rocketing excitement, the bursting glory at the end.

  When he had released her and turned onto his back, breath rolling deeply from his chest, Jessica stared at the ceiling. She didn't think she could keep doing this. She felt as if she might never move again, never get up and take part in ordinary pastimes. His jewelry, cool and heavy, weighed her down as, hot and hard, his body had done a few minutes earlier. A wedding gift. She had one for him and had to shake off this lethargy, which, embarrassingly, she wanted to indulge. She had to offer her gift.

  "I have a present for you as well,” she said shyly. “It's not nearly so grand, but—"

  "Jessie,” he interrupted lazily, as he rolled onto his side and looked at her, “you've already given me a wonderful gift."

  "I have?"

  "Yes.” He brushed his thumb lazily across her lips. “You enjoyed my lovemaking."

  Stricken, all of Penelope's admonishments repeating ominously in her mind, Jessica burst into tears.

  "Jess, for heaven's sake.” He swept her up tight against his chest. “What in the world?"

  "My—my behavior has been—has been—"

  "What?” he prompted.

  "Unseemly.” She rarely cried and hated it that she couldn't seem to stop.

  "In what way?” Travis demanded.

  "In—because I—last night—and this morning—"

  "Ah.” He rubbed his hand comfortingly over the back of her neck. “Jess, who put such ideas in your—no, you don't have to tell me. Penelope."

  She nodded against his chest.

  "My lovely wife,” he said gently over the top of her bowed head, “don't you know that you're every man's dream?"

  "I guess you mean that men dream of—of unseemly women, but they never—never respect them."

  Travis laughed and said firmly, “Any man who wants a cold wife is a fool. It means he has to go elsewhere for warmth."

  "Elsewhere?” Jessica's tear-stained face came up from its hiding place against his chest.

  "Elsewhere,” he assured her.

  Jessica didn't like that thought at all. Travis was hers.

  "I'm glad to see the idea doesn't please you. It probably would your mother, and you're to pay no attention in the future to any of her nonsense, Jessie. Do you remember your promise yesterday in church? You promised to obey me. Well, that's an order; ignore Penelope. Now, let's see my present."

  "Of course,” Jessica mumbled, wondering whether he really felt the way he'd said. She had to stretch for her nightgown and then wiggle into it under his eyes, a miserably awkward maneuver while she was trying to keep herself covered with the sheet. She knew he was watching her with great amusement, but she didn't care; she could never, as he had, walk across the room in front of him without a stitch on.

  "Here,” she said, thrusting the leather case into his hands a minute later. Travis pulled her down beside him on the edge of the bed and opened his present, which contained, nestled in separate maroon silk-lined compartments, a set of razors with silver and mother-of-pearl handles, a glass shaving mug in a silver holder, and various brushes with mahogany handles decorated in silver. Travis lifted out each item and inspected it, looked at himself in the diamond-shaped mirror that was set into the lid, ran his thumb over the razors after unfolding them from their beautiful handles.

  "It's a travel grooming set,” said Jessica anxiously. She was still wearing the jewelry he had given her and, for once in her life, wished that she had had lots of money to spend on a gift for him.

  Travis smiled at her and said, “This is the nicest present I've ever been given."

  Because there was such sincere pleasure in his face, she was flooded with happiness and mumbled impulsively, “You're the nicest gift I've ever been given."

  "Why, Jessica."

  She flushed and tried to turn away, but Travis wouldn't allow it. He held her face still and gave her a long kiss, which she finally broke off herself, saying nervously, “I'm afraid the hour is scandalously late."

  "In that case,” Travis replied, laughing, “I think we should do something scandalous to celebrate the hour,” and he tumbled her backward onto the rumpled sheets. “Now off with that nightgown,” he ordered, grinning. “It doesn't show off your jewelry at all."

  "Travis,” Jessica protested breathlessly.

  "I know you're in a hurry, love,” he replied, laughing so heartily that she had the sinking feeling he could be heard all over the second floor, “but you'll not get so much as another kiss until you've taken off your shift.” He nuzzled her ear, then murmured into it, “But I am willing to help."

  Jessica wondered dizzily if other brides spent more time out of their nightclothes than in. Then she stopped thinking at all and gave herself up to the pleasures of the morning.

  Chapter Seven

  "It's a nice little company,” said Hugh expansively. “Their formula for cattle dip is, I'm told, the best on the market, and they have a salesman who could sell whiskey to a Baptist.” Hugh poured himself another brandy and raised his eyebrows inquiringly to Travis, who declined. “Not that cattle dip takes much selling. Because of tick fever, every rancher in Texas needs it. The best part is that I can sell that company to a northern buyer for an immense profit and earn a commission besides for seeing that it goes on the market."

  "I thought the owner didn't want to sell,” said Travis, who often found himself on the receiving end of Hugh's confidences over the after-dinner brandy bottle. The man had no one else to brag to about his business triumphs since his wife was interested only in the money they produced.

  "He doesn't,” Hugh agreed. “Dead set against it. Loves that company."

  "Then I don't see how—"

  "Oh, everything's possible when you know how to go about it,” said Hugh with a crafty smile. “He wants to expand but doesn't have the money. I have the money, and I'm willing to lend."

  "And?” Travis felt a cold prickling up his spine as he remembered how willing Hugh Gresham had once been to lend money to Travis's father.

  "In fact, I'll lend him more than he asks for. Within six months he'll be in trouble, so I'll have to call the notes.” Hugh smiled and raised his glass to the absent owner of the cattle dip company. “A banker has to think of his shareholders."

  "Yes,” said Travis. That was just what Hugh had done to William Henry Parnell. The bastard! How many good men had he ruined since he pulled that same trick seventeen years ago?

  "I can't afford to do it too often,” Hugh confided, “only when I see a particularly profitable opportunity."

  "Remind me not to borrow money from you,” said Travis, and the two of them laughed easily.

  "Justin.” Hugh Gresham looked nervous. “I'm surprised to see you in town with roundup so close."

  "Jessica's been living in your house,” said Justin, scowling.

  "Why, yes,” Hugh stuttered. “Nice girl. We've—"

  "I want her out of there. More accurately, I don't want her anywhere near Penelope."

  Hugh flushed. “Jessica's a grown woman,” he said defensively. “And they came to us. Of course, Penelope was delighted to help."

  "I find that hard to believe,” snapped Justin. “Penelope never made a helpful move in her life unless she expected to get something in return. In this case, I'd guess it's to even an old score with me, but I'm not letting her use Jessica to accomplish that."

  "You do Penelope an injustice,” said Hugh. “She has a genuine affection for the girl."

  "Nonsense.” Justin stared broodingly across the desk at a man who had once been his friend. “I understand she's already married Parnell."

  "Several days ago."

  "Why are they still in your house?"

  "Because that's what Penelope wants,” said Hugh resentfully. “You needn't think it was my idea. The wedding cost me a fortune, and the trousseau was worse."

  "I'll reimburse you if you make sur
e that Penelope never sees her again."

  "She won't agree.” Hugh sounded as if he wished she would.

  "On the other hand, I'll pull out of the bank if you don't."

  Alarm flashed into the banker's eyes. “That would hurt you as much as it would me,” he pointed out quickly.

  Justin shrugged. “I can absorb the loss; I doubt that you can—especially if the sale of my shares triggers a run on the bank.” He smiled coldly and added, “Think how Penelope would react if you had to curtail her extravagant spending."

  "This is ridiculous, Justin. What harm can it do for Penelope to spend some time with her daughter?"

  Justin was glad to see that he had managed to frighten the banker. “Penelope tried to kill Jessica when she was a baby,” he revealed bluntly. “God knows what she'll try when she gets tired of having a daughter around this time."

  Hugh had gone pale. “That's a lie. Penelope wouldn't—she'd never—” Then his face cleared. “You're still angry because she was unfaithful to you, because she fell in love with me."

  "You really think Penelope committed adultery because she was overcome by passion for you?” Justin asked sarcastically. “You must have found out in twenty years of marriage that Penelope is never overcome by passion."

  Hugh flushed and suggested stiffly that Justin leave.

  "She's never motivated by anything but greed and vanity. Penelope hated ranch life and was looking for a second husband richer than me. You were it."

  "She loved me."

  "She loved money. The only reason she backed off demanding half my assets when we divorced was that she knew I could send her to jail for attempted murder."