"The countess reminded me earlier that I have been remiss in the way of introductions. Colt Thunder, al-low me to present my dearest friend and companion, Vanessa Britten."
"Ma'am," Colt said with a nod.
Vanessa was obviously encouraged, enough to say, "Delighted, Mr. Thunder."
"Oh, he doesn't like to be called mister, Vana. He answers to either name."
"Without preference? How odd."
"But it's rather nice, the informality, isn't it? It makes you feel you know a person better than you do."
"If you'll excuse me, ladies."
He said it even as he headed for the exit, prompting Jocelyn to step in front of him. "But you can't leave yet. You must stay and have dinner with us."
"Must?"
She lowered her eyes before correcting herself., "Will you please join us?"
"I don't-"
"At least stay and have a drink," she persisted. "You must be. " Wrong thing to mention, his likely thirst. "We have sherry… no, you wouldn't like that. Vana, why don't you see what Jane can find in the supply wagon in the way of more potent spir-its?"
"Haven't you learned yet that it isn't safe to be alone with me?"
Jocelyn swung around to see that Vanessa had left them without answering, the tent flap still fluttering.
They were indeed alone — for the moment.
"She'll be right back, and…" She peeked a glance at him. Good Lord, those eyes again. They sent shivers of excitement racing along her skin even when they were so inscrutable. "And haven't you learned yet that I'm not so easily intimidated?"
"What you are is crazy, woman. and asking for it," he retorted.
She was asking for it, but not in the way he me,ant. Why couldn't he see that? Why did he try so hard to appear mean and despicable? Because he really is mean and despicable, a tiny voice suggested. No, she wouldn't believe that, not for a minute. Besides, Sir George wouldn't have taken to a man who was inher-ently cruel.
"What I am, Colt Thunder," she said in a soft, whispery tone as her eyes sought his again, "is very attra—"
"Jane won't be but a moment. I told her to find that bottle of old brandy you bought from — oh, I say, I didn't interrupt anything, did I?" Vanessa asked.
Jocelyn was blushing profusely, but managed to shake her head as she stepped away from Colt. "No, not at all," she got out, nearly choking on the words.
She couldn't believe she had been about to confess her attraction for him. That simply wasn't the way things were done, especially when the second party's feelings were not in the least bit clear. Good Lord, how mortifying if she had done so and he hadn't re-sponded, or worse, had replied something to the ef-fect that it was her problem, not his. It was her problem, but for once she couldn't plunge right ahead in solving it.
"It's as well you came back so soon, Vana, since I was just getting around to asking Colt why he wanted us to avoid that town yesterday. The answer was of particular interest to you, wasn't it?"
"Indeed," Vanessa replied, though with reluc-tance.
It was all well and good to complain to Jocelyn about their guide's apparent spitefulness, Vanessa thought, but quite another thing to broach the subject with him, especially when he looked anything but friendly. In fact, the way he was looking at Jocelyn while her attention wasn't on him. Good Lord, what had happened while she was gone? His eyes were fairly smoldering with passion, but what kind of passion?
He didn't seem to have followed the conversation, so intent was his concentration on Jocelyn, so Vanessa prompted, "Was there a reason, ah — Colt?"
His gaze swung to her with what could only be described as impatience, but the fires were banked now, and then he was looking at the duchess again, almost as if he couldn't seem to help himself. "I kept you out of Benson because your best protection is out in the open, where you can see your enemy coming. In a town, you don't know who the hell to watch out for since you don't even know what this Englishman looks like, or his men. Out here, anyone who approaches is suspect. It's the simplest precaution there is, Duchess, keeping to yourself."
There was a double meaning there. Even Vanessa caught it. Jocelyn chose to ignore it entirely.
"There, you see, Vana, a perfectly good reason. And what's more, Longnose has been temporarily misled thanks to the detour Colt insisted on this morning. We couldn't be in more capable hands, wouldn't you agree?"
Vanessa nodded, but her attention was still on Colt, watching for his reaction. She couldn't fault Jocelyn's ageold tactics. She had let the man know his com-pany was desired, had been shyly avoiding his gaze as if she didn't dare look at him for fear her feelings would be blatantly clear, and now was using flattery. But none of it seemed to be working on the man, at least not as one would expect. If anything, the more agreeable Jocelyn was, the more disturbed he seemed.
Did he grasp the situation and just want no part of it? Or were his the actions of a man who had decided he couldn't have what he wanted? Now there was a thought, but one Vanessa couldn't very well pursue.
She wondered if she ought to mention it to Jocelyn. No, best let the girl proceed in her own way.
Besides, the answer couldn't be had without direct question-ing, and Jocelyn might be straightforward on most subjects, but Vanessa hoped she had sense enough not to broach this one. The embarrassment that could arise didn't bear thinking of.
Neither woman could have known that Colt would have welcomed a little straightforwardness at this point, for he still didn't understand the duchess's mo-tivations in the least. That she could want him, know-ing what he was, was the last thing that might occur to him.
But his wanting her was getting out of hand, and being this near to her again was just making it worse. It had been a bad mistake to come in here, even with his anger to sustain him. With the anger gone now, he needed to get the hell away and fast.
He did just that the moment the tent flap opened again with the servant bearing the brandy on a silver tray. "Ladies," was all he said in parting before stalking toward the exit. But he did first snatch the bottle from the startled maid. At least there was something of Jocelyn's that he could have without guilt, and he damn well needed it tonight.
Chapter Eighteen
Fox the next several days Jocelyn saw nothing of Colt, though she had assurances from others that he hadn't deserted them. He was simply gone before she awoke, and did not return until after she had retired for the night. It was not unreasonable that she should worry about him during these long absences as they moved through what was considered the very heart of Apache country, but it was unusual. There had been much to worry about these past three years, but not since Edward had she focused her concern on one man in particular.
So when Colt showed up one afternoon to ride at the head of the cavalcade, Jocelyn was not the only one who felt there must be a specific reason for it. That he offered no explanation was typical of him.
Getting voluntary information out of Colt Thunder was harder than finding water in this arid region. And if she hadn't already guessed that her men had formed a distinct dislike for him, the fact that not one of them would appease his curiosity by questioning him proved it.
She could have done so herself. It would only have been a matter of raising her voice a little since she was riding up with the driver of her coach while Vanessa napped inside. She thought about it for about two seconds. But she had caught a glimpse of his face when he rode up, and quite frankly, he had never looked more unapproachable.