Nevada Nights (11 page)

Cameron wondered how long she could endure having Colt in the room, those dark eyes pinning her, those lips parted in the most tempting of smiles.

"How much longer?"

Cameron lifted her hair from her damp neck and stretched her cramped muscles. Quenton looked up from the canvas suddenly.

"I’m sorry, Cameron. I’ve been so immersed in my work, I forgot how long you’ve been holding that pose." He set down his brush. "I think I’ve burdened you enough for one day. Can we continue this tomorrow?"

She nodded.

When she again looked up, Colt had left the room, as silently as he had entered.

Quenton began cleaning his brushes. "Would you like Rose to help you change?"

"No. I can manage. Should I stop by your father’s room before I leave?"

"Yes, if you don’t mind. If he’s still awake, I’m sure he’d like to wish you good day."

Cameron climbed the stairs and let herself in to Elizabeth’s room. Once again she was struck by the musty odor of disuse.

She walked to the closet and removed a sachet-scented hanger. Placing it on the bed, she straightened and attempted to reach the fasteners at her back. The door opened, then closed softly, and Cameron turned with a smile.

"Oh, Rose, I’m so glad—" She stopped in mid-sentence, at the sight of Colt.

He leaned against the closed door and crossed his arms over his chest. She was reminded of a mountain lion flattened against a rock ledge, about to strike an unsuspecting deer.

Cameron could feel her heartbeat begin to accelerate. This house was so big, no one would hear her if she called for help. She studied Colt’s face. His gaze trailed from her delicate features to the pale column of throat, and to the soft swell of breasts exposed beneath the daring neckline.

She felt herself begin to blush at the way he was looking at her. Heat infused her skin and coursed along her veins. She ran a tongue over lips gone suddenly dry.

"Please, Colt. Leave me alone."

His frown turned to a smile. There was no happiness in the smile. There was a thread of danger in the curve to his lips. "At least you’re learning some manners, Cammy. This time you said please."

In swift strides he was across the room and caught her by the shoulders. "I only wanted to look at you. And to touch you. To see if you were real or a vision."

She lifted her head proudly, to deny the fear that his presence created. Her nostrils flared. "And what have you decided?"

His hands kneaded her bared shoulders. "Oh, you’re real, Cammy. A very real woman." His voice lowered ominously. "Downstairs, did you know what I was thinking?"

She flushed.

"I thought about carrying you away and lying with you, alone, somewhere on a hillside, beneath the stars. I thought about undressing you, gently, and taking the time to look at you, and touch you, and hold you."

She was too paralyzed to speak.

His hand circled her throat and pressed against the back of her neck. "And now, I’m beyond thinking."

She felt a tremor pass through her. His breath was warm where it feathered the hair at her temple. His head dipped lower, drawing her slowly to him, and her eyes widened, anticipating the kiss.

He stared into her eyes, loving the warmth of those green depths. And then her lashes fluttered, and his lips claimed hers.

He wanted the kiss to be gentle. He wanted to taste, to touch lightly. But the moment his lips found hers, the kiss became hot, seething with the passion he fought to control. His hands pressed her tightly to him, and still it wasn’t enough.

His mouth was avid, moving over hers, drawing her deeper into his passion. His hands moved along the satin-clad back, sending sparks skittering along her spine. Everywhere he touched her she was infused with heat.

The satin gown, the roughness of his hands, the growing passion she could sense in him, combined to test her control. She felt a searing, blinding heat and flashes of color in her brain as his lips moved over her lips, her eyelids, her cheeks.

"Oh, God, Cammy. How I want you." The words were spoken inside her mouth.

She moaned softly, clutching his shoulders for support. "Colt. Oh, Colt. I feel ... I feel on fire."

He lifted his head, studying her lovely face. Her lips were moist and swollen from his kisses. Her eyes, round and luminous, seemed too large for her face.

His eyes narrowed. In one swift movement he lifted her in his arms and deposited her on the bed. Then he was beside her, pulling her roughly into his embrace.

His lips roamed her face, then dipped to her throat. She gasped and for a moment stiffened in his arms. His lips continued to nibble at the sensitive skin of her shoulder until he felt her resistance waver. Boldly, he slid the satin from her shoulders and moved his lips lower, until they probed the delicate swell of her breasts.

She moaned softly, unable to stop him, and unwilling to end the pleasure his lips brought. The need for him was becoming almost pain.

Passion was driving him, until he no longer cared if she protested. She wanted him. He could sense it in her response. And he wanted her with all his being.

His fingers slid the satin lower until his lips could claim the breast whose nipple grew taut at his touch. He heard the moan that escaped her lips and felt her arch toward him.

Cameron’s heart lodged in her throat. Her body was on fire. Her mind refused to respond to her commands. She felt fear. Yet even the fear was being overruled by a growing passion. She was at Colt’s mercy. And she sensed that he had gone beyond all thought.

"Cammy." Her name was breathed against her throat, and then his lips covered hers, taking her deeper, until she writhed and whispered his name.

"Colt." Her hands cradled his head, her fingers twining in his dark hair, while her lips opened to his kiss.

They had slipped over the line of reason into a hard, driving need. They both sensed it. He hovered over her, gripping her shoulders until she nearly cried out.

She was slipping away, losing herself to this man’s touch. His lips, his fingertips, his breath mingled with hers, were all that mattered now.

"Miss McCormick?" Rose’s muffled voice sounded from beyond the door. "Would you like some help undressing?"

Colt lifted his lips from hers. Her eyes widened. Her mouth opened, but no words came out.

He gave her a wry smile and touched her hps with his fingertip.

"Miss McCormick? Quenton thought you might need a hand."

Cameron swallowed. Even now, Colt’s lips brushing her shoulder brought a tremor of delight.

"Thank you, Rose. I can manage." Her own voice sounded strange to her. She hadn’t realized how difficult it would be to speak.

"I’ll just wait here then. I want to be certain Miss Elizabeth’s gown is properly fastened before I put it away."

Reluctantly, Colt and Cameron moved apart, each struggling for breath. It seemed an eternity before their breathing returned to normal.

With a sigh, Colt struggled to his feet. He wore a grim smile as he whispered, "It seems again it wasn’t meant to be. Farewell, little Cammy, for now."

He lifted her hand, then allowed his gaze to travel lazily over her one last time. She lay on the bed, her hair a fiery contrast to the green eyes smoldering with newly discovered passion. Her lips pursed in a little pout. The satin gown caught the rays through the gauzy curtains, making her appear like a sun goddess. He pressed his lips to her palm, then curled her fingers over it, as if to hold his kiss.

Without another word, he stalked to an adjoining door and was gone.

Slowly, almost languorously, Cameron stood and studied her reflection in the dressing mirror. Was it this dress that had so changed her, from the prim maiden to a wanton? Was it Elizabeth’s ghost, infusing her with a passion that was alien to her? Or was the passion her own, springing to life at Colt’s touch, banked now for the moment but simmering just below the surface, ready to leap to life whenever Colt summoned it?

With a long sigh, she removed the velvet ribbon and the fiery emerald and slid the satin gown over her hips. When she had dressed once again in the prim cotton dress, she again studied her reflection. It told her nothing.

She opened the door for the patient servant.

"Thank you, Rose. I’ll go now and say my goodbyes to Mr. Lampton and Quenton."

"The old man is asleep. But Quenton is waiting downstairs."

Cameron walked slowly down the stairs, puzzling over all that had happened to her this day.

Quenton was waiting on the sagging porch. "Will you come tomorrow, Cameron?"

"Yes. I’ll try. Tomorrow."

"Noon. We’ll lunch with my father again."

He helped her mount. He studied her face for long moments. She was wearing the same cotton dress, the same bonnet. Yet she seemed somehow different.

Without another word, she wheeled her horse and was gone.

"Miriam, didn’t you tell me the mines had been abandoned years ago?" Kneeling beside Miriam’s wheelchair, Cameron’s voice was edged with excitement.

"Yes. Most of them were started by prospectors on their way to the gold fields of California. I suppose they took a look at these bleak hills and figured they had to be good for something. Unfortunately, the only thing they found was some awful blue clay that clogged their equipment and made separating the gold impossible."

"Could prospectors be digging on McCormick land without any of us knowing it?"

Miriam shook her head. "I don’t see how they could dig right under our noses without being seen. Why? What have you found today?"

Cameron lowered her voice. "I found a fresh mine shaft on my section of land today. It’s very near the border between McCormick land and Lampton land."

Miriam smiled at Cameron’s apparent confusion. "It’s just another old abandoned mine, Cammy. The landscape is littered with them." She shook her head knowingly. "Fools and their dreams of glory. Now, tell me what else you saw on your ride today."

Putting aside her own doubts, Cameron described the hundred and one things she had seen that she was certain would amuse Miriam. Through her eyes, the young woman confined to the wheelchair watched the flight of a hawk as it circled, then swooped down on an unsuspecting little rabbit, before finally carrying it off into the trees.

Miriam’s eyes widened at the description of a herd of wild mustangs loping across the barren hills. Cameron recognized the yearning for that same kind of freedom and found herself wondering, as she had so often, how Miriam had managed to keep her sanity in this house of hatreds. Until recently, a simmering anger seemed to be her only emotion. But lately Cameron sensed other emotions. Miriam was like someone who was awakening from a long slumber.

Ti entered carrying an embroidered lap robe. He placed it over Miriam’s knees, then lifted her easily in his arms.

"Nina says you are to have some sunshine." He looked down into her upturned face, and Cameron nearly gasped at the tenderness in his expression.

If Miriam couldn’t see the affection Ti felt for her, she must be blind.

Following them outside, Cameron watched as Ti settled Miriam onto a blanket spread on the grass.

"I’ll be back in a minute with fresh lemonade." He turned to Cameron. "Shall I bring you some too?"

"No, thank you, Ti. I’m leaving."

When he was gone, she knelt beside Miriam. "How long have Ti and Nina been here?"

Miriam frowned. "Alex left about seven years ago on a ship bound for the Caribbean. When he returned, he brought his bride, Nina, and her brother, Ti." She shook her head. "Poor Nina. Alex had convinced her father that he was a good, Christian man and a wealthy landowner in America and that she would live like a queen." Her voice lowered conspira- torially. "Ti and Nina are a real prince and princess, Cammy. Their family is royalty on a small Caribbean island. When they were here for a while, they realized that they had been brought back only to be used as unpaid servants."

"Why don’t they leave?"

Miriam glanced around before speaking. "I don’t think Alex would mind if Nina left. There is no love there. But she would never see little Alexander again. Alex would see to that."

"And Ti? Why doesn’t he go?"

Miriam frowned. "I’ve often wondered. There’s nothing here to hold him back."

Cameron touched Miriam’s hand. "I think there is, Miriam. You."

Miriam’s eyes widened in shock. "Me! Don’t be silly. Why would he stay for my sake?"

"I can’t believe you’re so blind. Can’t you see the way he looks at you? Ti is in love with you, Miriam."

She watched her half-sister’s gaze wander to the dark, handsome figure walking toward them. Standing, Cameron smiled at the look of shock on Miriam’s face. She was thunderstruck.

*  *  *

The day after their conversation, Cameron made it a point to ride to the same location where she had spotted the fresh digging. This time when she dismounted she walked to a stick she had pounded into the earth on her previous visit. She stared for long minutes, then mounted and rode in a circular path around the mine entrance, looking for anything that would give her a clue as to who could be digging on her land. She was certain now that there had been fresh work done here. Yesterday, the top of the stick had marked the height of the mound of dirt. Today, the mound was nearly a foot higher than the top of the stick. Someone had managed to haul a lot of dirt from below the ground. She was certain of one thing. This work hadn’t been done in the light of day.

As she headed her horse toward home, she came to a decision. She would grab a quick nap before dinner. Tonight she would need to be alert while she concealed herself along a ridge overlooking the fresh mine shaft.