She had to admit to herself that, suddenly, what she had always wanted was taking second place to her desire to shock them, to show them what Thomas had made of her. She wanted her to feel bad, to feel guilty, to believe Jessica wild and immoral. To that end, Jessie had hidden all the beautiful dresses she had only just brought home, all the perfume and ribbons and jewelry she had finally been able to buy for herself. And she had sought out Blue, wanting him to make love to her so that she would find out and be shocked.
Thinking about it brought her mind back to Blue. He had crept closer, and as she turned to him he kissed her again, urgently this time. Her blue cotton shirt seemed to open all by itself while they kissed, and she was startled to feel his hand touching her breasts. Should she stop him?
The sound of a man clearing his throat saved Jessie from having to stop Blue. She was grateful, but she realized how this would look to the hired hand who had come upon them. She prayed it was only Jeb, who would understand.
Cautiously, she looked over Blue’s shoulder, then felt heat rushing to her face. He was a stranger, the man on the beautiful palomino horse. The man was looking down at them with outrageous amusement in every line of his chiseled dark face. He was young and, damn, the handsomest man she had ever seen. She was unreasonably mortified. Oh, why wouldn’t he stop staring?
Blue started to get up, terribly embarrassed, but Jessie grabbed on to his shirt, giving him a furious look. He had nearly revealed her state of undress to the intruder. Blue’s color heightened, and he grinned sheepishly. Jessie continued to glare at him while she pulled her shirt together. Done, she pushed at him to get up, and they both scrambled to their feet, Blue turning to face the man while Jessie hid behind him.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” the man said in a deep voice that clearly indicated he wasn’t sorry at all but found the situation highly entertaining. “I could sure use a little help, so I stopped to talk to you.”
“What kind of help?” Blue asked.
“I’m looking for the Rocky Valley and a Mrs. Ewing. They told me in Cheyenne I would find the ranch after a day’s ride north, but I had no luck yesterday or today. Could you tell me if I’m heading in the right direction?”
“You, ouch—!”
“—are trespassing, mister,” Jessie finished for Blue after pinching him into silence. She stepped out from behind him, her embarrassment gone as anger took hold. “And you’re a long way from the Rocky Valley.”
Chase Summers eyed the girl standing before him so belligerently. He was taken aback by her sudden hostility. After the situation he’d found her in, he hadn’t expected her to be quite so young. She looked fourteen or fifteen, just a kid, young enough to get away with wearing pants. An older girl wouldn’t dare dress that way. And the man looked to be in his early twenties, too old to be taking advantage of a child.
But it was none of Chase’s business. His expression didn’t change, not even when the girl’s blue-green eyes shot daggers at him. Damn pretty she was, and those unusual eyes were stunning.
“But—” Blue began, but she jumped behind him once more, pinching him again.
“I didn’t know I was trespassing,” Chase offered. “If you’ll just point me in the right direction, I’ll move on.”
“Just keep riding north, mister,” Jessie answered, and warned sharply, “and don’t come back this way. We don’t like strangers crossing our land.”
“I’ll remember that,” Chase replied. Then he nodded thanks and crossed the creek, riding on.
Jessie stared after him, glaring at his back for some time before she sensed Blue staring at her in the same way. His expression was a mix of confusion and anger, and she quickly looked away. Reaching down for her gun belt, she strapped it on, refusing to look at him.
“Just a minute, gal.” Blue caught her arm when she picked up her hat and started for her horse. “What the hell was that all about?”
She tried to shrug it off. “I don’t like strangers.”
“What’s that got to do with lying?” he demanded.
Jessie jerked her arm out of his grasp and faced him, her eyes flashing with all the fury pent up inside her. Blue nearly forgot his anger then, for she was something to behold, her eyes lit up with blue-green fire, breasts heaving, her long braid flung over her shoulder, the braid end touching her narrow hip. Her right hand rested on her gun, and although he doubted she would really shoot him, the threat was there, and he didn’t try to grab her again.
“Jessie, I don’t understand. If you’ll just tell me what’s made you so angry?”
“Everything!” she snapped. “You! Him!”
“I know what I did, but—”
“What you did you’d better never try again, Blue Parker!”
He frowned. She didn’t mean that. He wasn’t about to give her up, anyway. But it would be a good idea to get her mind on something else for a while.
“Well, what’d he do? Why’d you lie to him?”
“You heard who he was looking for.”
“So?”
“You think I can’t guess why he’s looking for her?”
Blue followed her drift. “You don’t know anything for sure.”
Jessie drew herself up. “Don’t I? He was too good-looking. He’s got to be one of her lovers, and I’ll be damned if I’ll let him come to my ranch and carry on with her under my roof!”
“And just what’re you gonna do when he finds out you lied to him and comes back?”
Jessie was too mad to give it any thought. “Who’s to say he’ll be back? He’s probably from the city, like she is. He probably couldn’t find his way out of a hole in the ground,” she added contemptuously. “Didn’t you see how packed his saddlebags were? He’s the type who can’t survive without store-bought goods. If he reaches Fort Laramie or gets back to Cheyenne, he won’t be eager to venture out on the range again, where the nearest store is days away. He’ll go back where he came from and wait for her to come to him—which can’t happen soon enough for me.”
Blue shook his head. “You sure do hate her.”
“Yes, I hate her!”
“It ain’t natural, Jessie,” he said softly. “She’s your mother.”
“She’s not!” Jessie stepped back as if he had struck her. “She’s not! My mother wouldn’t have deserted me. She wouldn’t have let Thomas Blair turn me into the son he wanted. My mother died here. That woman is nothing but a whore. She never gave a damn about me.”
“Maybe you’re just hurting, Jessie,” he said kindly.
Jessie wanted to cry. Hurting? How many times had she cried herself to sleep because there was no one there to soften the pain of her life, a life she hated. Hadn’t it all been because of her mother? Every single thing her father did was to spite the whore, as he’d called her mother. He had denied Jessie boarding school because her mother had wanted her to be educated. He had denied her anything feminine because her mother had wanted her to be a lady. He had made her what she was because he knew her mother would hate her. Irrationally, he had gone into debt to build a house fit for a queen, done it solely because it was what her mother would have loved and could never have.