Sundancer (Cheyenne Series) (56 page)

      
“If you hadn't, I never would have met you—you're worth more than your damn maidenhead, Roxanna!” His hands cupped her shoulders, fingers digging into her soft flesh as he willed her to believe him.

      
Her eyes glistened with tears as they met his. “Don't tell me it didn't matter to you on our wedding night—that's why you believed I'd been unfaithful with Larry.”

      
“That’s on me, Roxanna. I was a fool.” He tried to gather his chaotic thoughts, taking her clenched fists in his hands and forcing them open, interlacing his fingers with hers and bringing them up to his lips, “I didn't know on our wedding night. After all, I'd never had a virgin before, but I imagine it's highly overrated.

      
“What made me jealous of Larry was a hell of a lot more complicated. You know how I felt about my Cheyenne blood, my bastardies. For once I'd been given the prize instead of my brother. You were my wife and I wasn't about to share you with any man. It had nothing to do with what happened to you before we met.”

      
“But I lied to you and deceived you into thinking I was a sheltered St. Louis belle.”

      
“I deceived you in a far worse way. I hid my past and I made that deal with Jubal. All along, I tried to convince myself I was doing it for the promotion, the power—my revenge against my father. But the harder I fought against you, the more I fell under your spell. And I resented it, Roxanna. I was afraid of your hold over me. I couldn't admit the truth—not even back in Leather Shirt's village after the Sun Dance. I know now that even if they made me president of the Union Pacific, it wouldn't matter worth a damn without you. I love you, Roxanna. I love you more than life, wealth, anything.”

      
Roxanna looked into his eyes, which were glowing with unshed tears—and love. She reached up and touched her fingertips to the scar on his cheek, caressing it softly, letting the wonder of the moment wash over her like spring rain, clear and sparkling with new promise, so utterly wonderful that it robbed her of breath. His heart was revealed in his eyes, open and vulnerable.
He is still afraid that I'll reject him.

      
“I have wanted to hear those words from the time we met on the banks of the Niobrara.”

      
He could hear the tremor in her voice, see the smile on her lips reflected in her eyes. ‘Then it isn't too late?”

      
“If you can leave the past behind, so can I—we can do it together. Oh, Cain, I love you, I love you, I love you,” she cried, throwing her arms around his neck with a sob of joy. “I've spoken the words a thousand times in my heart, but I've waited so long to say them out loud.”

      
“I love you, Roxanna—and I'll say those words every day for the rest of our lives.” He could feel the tears on his cheeks and did not care, for her soft lips kissed them away as he did the same for the salty drops on hers.

      
They held on to each other for several moments, communicating in silent joy. Then he reached into his pocket, pulled out a tiny box and handed it to her. Eagerly she opened it and gasped. The heavy gold wedding band she had returned to him when she left Denver lay nestled beside a magnificent brilliant cut diamond ring mounted in delicate filigreed gold.

      
“I always intended to give you an engagement ring. I had Jubal send the gold band to me in San Francisco so the jeweler could match it for the set.” He waited expectantly as she slid the rings on her finger.

      
“It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life—but Cain, the size of the diamond—it must’ve cost the whole earth!”

      
He smiled, bemused at the past week's revelation. “I can afford it. I can afford to shower you with diamonds, Roxy. When I reached San Francisco and made arrangements for my father and brother to be buried, Andrew's attorneys contacted me. It seems after I confronted him, accusing him of stealing from the Central Pacific, and told him I was going to ruin him, he changed his will. Then he came after Larry.” A haunted expression shadowed his face. “What must have gone through the old man's mind? He left me everything, darling—his shares in the Central Pacific, his shipping business, the land.”

      
“He finally realized that you were more deserving than Larry—he planned to acknowledge you as his son.”

      
He raked his fingers through his hair and shook his head. “Hell, I don't know. I know he still hated my Indian blood. Maybe that's why he was so appalled when he learned I'd pledged to make a Medicine Lodge. I'll always wonder if he came back here deliberately to kill Larry for his treachery—or, if things had come out differently, to give him a second chance.”

      
“Then why would he have cut Larry out of the will and given everything to you?”

      
Cain sighed. “I suppose I was the lesser of two evils at that point.”

      
She could hear the lingering pain in his voice. “Remember, he told Larry that he made a mistake by not acknowledging you.”

      
“No, he said perhaps it had been a mistake. His last words were, ‘You always had the brains. You beat me—damn, it was always a game to him. He pitted Larry and me against each other all of our lives. I was the tough one who'd learned to survive on my own. He sicced me on my brother like a damned dog.”

      
“Larry had his own way of fighting back, Cain. You can't put that entirely on Andrew Powell—if he were completely at fault, you would’ve turned out worse than your brother did.”

      
“I almost did,” he said with regret. “And you paid for my sins.”

      
“I think you paid for them yourself in the Medicine Lodge.”

      
An ironic smile touched his lips. “Sees Much told me I had a lot to atone for when I was preparing for the ritual.”

      
“A very wise man, as is your grandfather. What will become of them with the army and the railroad invading their hunting lands?”

      
“Dillon knows Leather Shirt's people are peaceful. He'll let them alone. As for the rest...” He sighed. “Sooner or later those that survive will end up on a reservation somewhere.”

      
“Can we visit them after the transcontinental is complete? I think Leather Shirt will be as pleased with his great grandson as Jubal.”

      
Cain smiled. “So you think it'll be a boy, do you? I rather had in mind a little silver-haired vixen like her mother, but in either case, we can locate their Cheyenne branch of the family after the baby's born.”

      
“You will let me come with you this winter? Dr. Milborne will be there to deliver the baby, and the railcar Jubal gave us is a veritable palace. Say yes, Cain, please!” She lowered her lashes and added slyly, “Unless you can't bear to watch me get so fat I don't have a sideways anymore.”

      
His hands moved to her waist, then up to her breasts. “So far I don't see that you're getting all that fat... Tonight I'll—”

      
A loud oath in a thick Scot's burr exploded from downstairs, then the sound of Jubal's footsteps clambering up the steps followed as he called out their names.

“We're in here, Jubal. Roxanna is all right,” Cain replied.

      
Winded and white-faced, the old man leaned against the doorjamb. “When I saw that devil woman laying there, it peeled a decade off my life.” He looked at Roxanna's scratched face and half-unfastened chignon. “Yer sure yer all right, lassie?”

      
She went over to him and gave him a fond hug. “Yes, I'm fine, thanks to my husband.”

      
“And Jubal. He kept an agent in the small town near the Darby plantation to watch her. If I hadn't intercepted a wire from the man, I'd never have reached here in time,” Cain said, placing his arm around her shoulders.

      
Seeing that the young couple needed time alone, a relieved Jubal MacKenzie went to handle the disposition of Isobel Darby's mortal remains. Within an hour the Cheyenne constabulary had accepted his glib tale about the widow's “tragic accident.” But first the frugal Scot had retrieved the remainder of his fifty thousand dollars from her person saying, “She dinna' keep her part of our bargain. The money is still mine.” The undertaker carried off her body for burial in the local potter's field.

      
The cook, maid and Li Chen all returned later in the day, unaware of the harrowing events. Dinner was served on time. After enjoying the meal with Cain and Roxanna, Jubal asked them to share some fine ten-year-old bourbon with him. The big man poured three glasses, then paused, a bit unnerved, and said, “First there's something I want to ask the both of you.”

      
He looks nervous, Cain thought with surprise as he replied, “Go on, Jubal. Spit it out.”

      
Roxanna too leaned forward expectantly, watching as Jubal harrumphed, clearing his throat, loosening his tie with one hand.
What is he going to do?

      
“Have you given any thought to what the newest director of the Central Pacific should call himself? Will you be Damon Powell again?” he finally asked Cain.

      
“Well, first off, I'm not a director, just the owner of a sizable share of stock. Next, I never had any legal claim to the Powell name. Still don't, even if the old man left me his estate. I honestly don't think I'd want to be called Powell anyway.”

      
“How do you feel about the MacKenzie name?” Jubal's big hands trembled slightly as he placed them flat on the table, leaning forward. No more the calculating bargainer here. He wore his emotions as plainly as he ever had in his life. “If you agree, I'd like to legally adopt you as my son, make you and Roxanna and yer children my heirs. And you do na' even have to call me ‘father.’ ”

      
Roxanna's eyes filled with tears. So did her husband's as he replied, “I'd be honored to be a MacKenzie...to be your son.”

      
The two men clasped hands, then stood up and embraced, sandwiching Roxanna between them. When everyone had regained their composure, Jubal handed them their glasses and raised his. “Here's to America, the land of opportunity—”

      
“And damn good whiskey,” the two newest MacKenzies chorused.

      
When the celebration had finished, Jubal returned to his new office to apply himself to Union Pacific accounts. The young lovers went upstairs to their bedroom suite...to apply themselves to other matters...

      
Cain stood in the door between the sitting room and the bedroom, watching Roxanna take the pins from her hair.

      
Seeing his reflection in the mirror, she turned as he approached and smiled. “Remember that...er, lesson you gave me while we were in Chicago?”

      
His mouth went suddenly dry. “I'll never forget it. Do you plan to give me another demonstration?” he asked hoarsely.

      
“No, I don't think so,” she replied consideringly as she stood up very close to him, letting her fingers glide up his shirtfront and skitter over his shoulders. “I think you should undress me...take off everything but my rings.” She flashed the diamond in front of his face and chuckled at his growl of pleasure, then added, “After that, I'd like to watch you.”

      
“Watch me?”

      
“Sometimes a woman likes her man to strip for her”

      
One black eyebrow raised as he looked down at her with a wicked, wicked grin spreading across his face. “She does, does she?... Well, never let it be said that I'd disappoint my woman.” He took her hands and led her to the big canopied bed in the center of the room. She perched on the edge. Then he knelt with one knee on the stool and slid off her shoes, letting his hands caress the arches of her silk-clad feet until she all but purred.

      
“Now come here,” he commanded as he stood and took her in his arms, lifting her once more to the floor with her back to him. With deft fingers he worked the dozen satin-covered buttons from their loops and slid the smooth butter-soft fabric from her shoulders. His mouth, hot, moist and insistent, followed, pressing kisses on the pale creamy skin above her chemise.

      
When the dress was bunched at her hips, he reached around to cup and lift her breasts inside the sheer silk of the chemise, murmuring against her neck, “Mmm, they are growing heavier.” He flicked his thumbnails across the nipples, which instantly puckered as she gasped, arching forward into his hands. “More sensitive too.”

      
His hands glided lower, around her waist. “Not much thicker yet,” he commented, then quickly unfastened the tapes of her petticoats and shoved the whole satiny mass to a glistening puddle around her feet. “Now let me examine that little belly,” he said, running his palm over the rounded swell of it as he turned her in his arms.

      
She held on to his shoulders as he pulled the drawstring holding closed the neckline of her chemise, then let him pull it up over her head and send it floating down to the floor, while he bent his head and nuzzled one breast, then the other. Before she realized it, he had her pantalets sliding past her hips and pooling at her ankles. She stepped out of them in a haze of sensual pleasure, her fingers buried in his long night-dark hair.

      
He stood back and looked at her, naked but for her garters and silk stockings. She felt his eyes sweeping over every inch of her and had to ask, “Am I shapeless already?”

      
A low wicked chuckle rumbled deep in his chest as he scooped her into his arms, saying, “You—ten months pregnant—could never be shapeless, Roxy, my love.” He laid her on the bed, then sat down beside her and began to peel off her garters and hose slowly, kissing his way from thigh to toes, then back up on both legs, until she was writhing with excitement.