Only Series - Only Mine Part 3

aIs that why you were so angry with me over our marriage?a Jessica asked in a strained voice. aWere you expecting to marry Willow instead?a aNot likely. Iad have to take on Caleb Black to do that, and only a fool would take on Caleb Black,a Wolfe said dryly. aHeas an Old Testament kind of man. Not much forgiveness in him.a aWho is Caleb Black?a aWillowas husband, and one of the best friends a man could have.a Wolfe watched with interest the relief that Jessica couldnat completely hide.

aI see,a Jessica said. She drew a deep breath before she asked the only question that really mattered to her. aDo you love Willow?a aBe hard not to. Sheas everything I ever wanted in a woman.a Jessica felt herself going pale. Until that moment she hadnat known how deeply she had been certain that Wolfe was hers, that he had been hers since he had plucked her from the haystack, that he would always be hers.

She had never expected Wolfe to love another woman. The pain of it was shocking. It took the world away, leaving only a blankness where each heartbeat shook her, making her dizzy.

The stagecoach lurched and bucked over a rough spot. The driveras shouts and cracking whip vied with the rattling of the wheels to deafen the pa.s.sengers. For once, Jessica was glad of the violent motion. It made further conversation unnecessary. She braced herself as best she could, closed her eyes, and wondered how she could hurt so much and show no visible wound.

Wolfe gave Jessica a hooded glance. He knew she was only pretending to sleep, for her body was too stiff and she shivered from time to time as though standing in a cold wind. She clearly didnat have any more questions about Willow Black. It was equally clear that Jessica had no desire to hear any more on the subject of Western women.

With a rather grim smile, Wolfe tipped his hat forward over his eyes, braced his feet on the facing seat, and congratulated himself on finding a c.h.i.n.k in the aristocratic armor surrounding Lady Jessica Charteris Lonetree. He had been beginning to wonder if she had one. Her stubbornness had surprised him. He had expected her to give up and return to England long before now. She was accustomed to being waited on, to having endless rounds of teas and b.a.l.l.s, to being protected and comforted by everyone within reach of her bewitching smile.

None of that had happened in America. Wolfe had deliberately left her alone. When that hadnat affected her determination, he had made her go without servants, but that had been harder on him than on her. He would never forget the silky electricity of her hair clinging to him as he brushed it, or the elegant femininity of her back beneath fine lingerie as he b.u.t.toned each tiny b.u.t.ton for her. Nor would he forget the stab of fear he had felt when he heard her scream, or the relieved laughter that had followed when he found her safe, though held prisoner by her braid.

A girl that helpless wonat last long out here, Wolfe a.s.sured himself silently. The West requires a woman with staying power. A woman like Willow.

But it wasnat Willowas blond hair and hazel eyes that haunted Wolfeas thoughts and his fitful sleep. It was a sensuous red-haired elf weeping crystal tears.

3.

T HE silence between Wolfe and Jessica wasnat broken until afternoon, when a young, rather pregnant woman got on board. Her single trunk had been lashed awkwardly to the boot, for Jessicaas trunks took up much of the top, even though Wolfe had decreed that only three would come on the stage with them. The rest had been put aboard a freight wagon destined for Denver.

aThank you, sir,a said the young woman, as Wolfe handed her into the stagecoach. aIam afraid Iam more clumsy each day.a aItas a difficult time,a Wolfe said, subtly eyeing the girlas waistline. In the stagecoachas dim interior light, she looked at least six months pregnant. aAre you traveling alone?a The kindness in Wolfeas voice made the girl smile shyly at her hands. aYes, sir. I couldnat bear being away from my husband any longer. My aunt and uncle wanted me to stay in Ohio until the baby was born, but I just couldnat wait. My husband is stationed at Bentas Fort, you see.a aThen you have an even longer trip than we do. Weare going only as far as Denver.a The girl sat down thankfully and smoothed her hands over her dress. The costume was as expensive as Jessicaas, and considerably less mussed. The girl looked barely seventeen. She was plainly uneasy at the prospect of the stage ride.

aIall sit up with the driver,a Wolfe said. aIt will be more comfortable for you.a aOh, no, sir,a she said quickly, looking no higher than his chest. aItas too raw out there for man or beast. Besides, itas the wilderness that makes me nervous, not you. There are rumors of Indians.a She shuddered. aThe thought of those murderous heathens being anywhere near me just gives me the shivers.a Wolfe concealed his amus.e.m.e.nt.

aNot all Indians are murderous,a Jessica said. aSome are quite hospitable. Iave spent time in their camps.a aYou were a hostage?a the girl asked, horrified and fascinated at the same time.

aHardly. Lord Robert Stewart was a friend of the Cheyenne. We were guests.a aIad sooner befriend the Devil as a redskin, and thatas a fact. You canat trust them.a She smoothed her dress again and changed the subject with transparent determination. aThatas a lovely dress, maaam. Is it French?a aYes. My guardian preferred English styles, but I like the simplicity of the new French fashions.a The girl looked quickly at Wolfe, wondering if he was the guardian in question.

aMy husband,a Jessica added, stressing the word lightly, aprefers no style at all. Isnat that correct, Mr. Lonetree?a aThereas little use for silks and foolishness in the West, Lady Jessica.a aLady?a said the girl quickly. aThen youare English?a Jessica bit back the temptation to correct the girl. aClose enough.a aA true t.i.tled lady?a the girl persisted.

aNot here,a Jessica said. aHere I am Mrs. Lonetree.a aIam Mrs. OaConner.a The girl hesitated. aLonetree is an unusual name.a aThe true name is Tree That Stands Alone, but Lonetree is easier for most people,a Wolfe said.

aIt sounds Indian.a aIt is.a The girlas face paled. She stared at Wolfe, noticing for the first time the man beneath the expensive city clothes.

aDear Lord, youare a redskin!a aSometimes,a he agreed. aSometimes Iam an over-civilized citizen of the British Empire. Most of the time Iam just a Western man.a The young Mrs. OaConner made a low, unhappy sound and began twisting her handkerchief between trembling fingers. She looked everywhere in the coach but at Wolfe.

Wolfe sighed, settled his hat more firmly on his head, and reached for the door of the bouncing coach. When the door was opened wide, he braced himself in the doorway and reached for the luggage railing that ran around the top of the coach.

aWolfe, what on eartha?a Jessica asked.

aMrs. OaConner will feel easier if Iam not inside with the civilized folks.a With that, Wolfe swung himself up onto the top of the stagecoach with feline grace and moved forward to sit next to the startled driver. The coach door banged shut.

aYouare acting like a complete ninny hammer,a Jessica said, eyeing the young woman coolly. aMy Wolfe is more a gentleman than anyone Iave met in America.a aMy family was murdered by redskins when I was twelve. I was hiding, but I saw what they did to Mother and Sissy, and Mother was seven months along.a The girlas hands smoothed over the swell of her own pregnancy. aThat poor little babe died before he ever lived. Savages. Murdering savages. I hope the Army sends them all back to the devil that sp.a.w.ned them.a Jessica closed her eyes as nightmares turned and coiled just beyond the reach of memory. She, too, had seen babies born dead. There was a horror in those tiny, still bodies that words couldnat describe.

Shivering, Jessica pulled her heavy travel cloak more tightly around her body. Wishing she could curl up against Wolfeas warmth, she did the next best thing. She curled up against the small leather travel bag Wolfe kept inside the coach with the rifle case.

Numbing miles went by. Jessica made no effort to speak to Mrs. OaConner again. The loathing and fear in the girlas voice when she spoke of Indians were not subject to reason any more than the aristocrats who spoke of athe viscountas savagea were amenable to seeing past Wolfeas Cheyenne mother and b.a.s.t.a.r.dy to the man beneath.

Finally, Jessica slept, only to be brought awake by the sound of shots and a high scream of terror from Mrs. OaConner.

aIndians!a the girl screamed, crossing herself frantically. aJesus and Mary, save me!a Jessica bolted upright and yanked open the side curtain while the young Mrs. OaConneras screams pierced the interior of the coach. At first Jessica could see nothing but the flat landscape. Then she realized the terrain wasnat as flat as it seemed. The land was folded gently, providing shelter for men and animals. It also provided ambush sites for unwary travelers. Apparently, a band of Indians had waited in one of those folds for the stage to approach.

aDear G.o.d,a Jessica breathed as she heard rifle fire booming from the low hills.

Wolfe was on top of the stagecoach, exposed to every shot. He could use the driveras shotgun, but there was no accuracy with such a weapon. It was intended to deter hold-ups, not an Indian attack.

The driveras whip cracked repeatedly as he yelled at the team, demanding every bit of speed from the big horses. The coach bucked and swayed wildly each time it hit a rough spot on the road, and there were many spots. Jessica braced herself as best she could and stared out the window.

The Indians were a bit ahead and considerably to the left of the coach. They were too far away for accurate shooting. Granted, they were racing closer with every moment, and firing as they came. Even so, Jessica had hunted enough game to realize that the trapa"if indeed it was a trapa"had been sprung too soon.

Mrs. OaConneras screams rose to the point of pain as she began to claw frantically at the door, as though she believed safety lay outside the coach rather than within. When Jessica grabbed the girlas hands and dragged them away from the door, Mrs. OaConner turned on her like a wildcat. Jessicaas palm smacked against the girlas cheek with a force that cut through her hysteria. Abruptly her screams gave way to sobbing. She sank to the floor and hid her face in her hands.

In the silence, Jessica suddenly heard Wolfeas rough voice and his fist pounding on the outside of the stage. Apparently, he had been trying to make himself heard over the screaming for long enough to lose his temper.

aJessica, stop that d.a.m.ned screaming and hand me the rifle case!a The frightened Mrs. OaConner heard only a harsh male voice demanding something unknown.

aWhat?a she screamed, her voice so shrill it was almost unrecognizable.

aThe case on the floor!a Wolfe yelled fiercely. aPa.s.s it up to me!a Jessica had already grabbed the presentation case and was shoving it through the window opening. Before she finished, the case was yanked from her hands. It leaped upward as though it had wings and vanished from sight. Bracing herself against the wild swaying of the coach, Jessica looked out the window. The Indians had disappeared behind a fold in the land.

Suddenly a horse burst up over a nearby rise, running flat out. A rider was bent low over the horseas neck, urging the lathered animal on. The rider was white, not Indian.

A ragged line of pursuing Indians thundered up over the rise several hundred yards behind the man. They fired sporadically, trying to bring down the fleeing rider.

On top of the stage, Wolfe braced himself and sighted down the gleaming barrel. The Indians were more than a thousand feet away and the stage swayed unpredictably. Real accuracy shouldnat have been possible under those conditions, even for someone with Wolfeas uncanny rifle skills.

Wolfe began shooting methodically, picking targets, squeezing the trigger, levering in another cartridge, shifting the barrel to a new target, squeezing the trigger again, ignoring the return fire despite his vulnerable position atop the stage. The man fleeing the Indians was in much more immediate trouble than Wolfe was.

The horseas pace fell off a few hundred yards from the stage. All that prevented the Indians from closing in for the kill was the withering fire Wolfe poured down on them from his swaying perch.

Praying through clenched teeth, her hands curled into fists, Jessica watched the man rein his horse into a long, shallow curve that brought him up to the stage. When the man was alongside, she kicked the door open and dragged Mrs. OaConner out of the way.

The rider stood in the stirrups, grabbed the luggage railing with his right hand, and swung himself into the stage through the open door. She realized suddenly that he was a big man, bigger even than Wolfe.

Jessica yanked the door shut behind the man. A bullet ricocheted off the iron rim of a wheel with an eerie whine.

aObliged, maaam,a the stranger said. aMight you know if the rifleman up top is getting low on cartridges?a aOh, Lord!a Jessica grabbed Wolfeas travel bag and rummaged quickly inside. aHe has some in here. They were one of our wedding presents, like the repeating rifles.a aSounds like my kind of wedding.a Jessica looked up into a pair of tired, yet amused gray eyes. Wordlessly, she held out her hands. There was a full box of cartridges in each. Then her breath came in with a harsh sound as she saw the blood sliding out from beneath the cuff of the strangeras jacket.

aYouare wounded!a aIall live, thanks to you and your husband. I canat shoot worth a d.a.m.n right-handed and Iad run my horse into the ground trying to get free of those Indians.a Reflexively, Jessica and the man ducked as bullets thudded against the stage. An arrow pierced one of the side curtains and buried its lethal point in the opposite side of the stage where Mrs. OaConner huddled. The sight of the arrow set her to screaming again.

The stranger ignored the pregnant girl. He scooped both boxes of cartridges into one big hand and turned to a front window. His shrill whistle pierced the sound of screaming. He shoved his arm out the ruined curtain and held the boxes up as close to the roof of the stage as he could. The cartridges were taken from his hands instantly.

The stage lurched and staggered, slamming the man against his wounded arm. With a stifled curse he lowered himself to the seat, reached across his body awkwardly, and drew his six-shooter with his right hand.

Mrs. OaConner kept screaming.

Jessica leaned past the broad-shouldered stranger and shook Mrs. OaConner. When that had no effect, Jessica slapped her just hard enough to get her attention. The screams stopped as abruptly as they had begun.

aThere, there,a Jessica said, hugging the terrified girl and stroking her disheveled hair. aScreaming doesnat do a bit of good. It only makes your throat raw. Weall be all right. Thereas no finer rifleman alive than my husband.a aIall second that,a the stranger said without looking away from the window. aHe sat up there cool as a gentleman at a turkey shoot. And what he aimed at, he hit.a Mrs. OaConner cringed when Wolfe opened fire once more, but she didnat scream again. She simply wrapped her arms protectively over her womb and trembled while the coach shook and bounced her around. Jessica smiled encouragingly before she turned back to the stranger.

aLet me help you, sir.a aItas been a long time since anyone called me sir,a he said, smiling oddly. aMy name is Rafe.a aMr. Rafe,a she began.

aJust Rafe.a He squeezed off a shot, then hissed through his teeth as the stagecoach lurched and banged against his wounded arm.

aSave your bullets,a Jessica said as she began undoing b.u.t.tons on Rafeas jacket. aWolfe has enough for a time. Let me see to your wound.a aWolfe? Is that your husband?a She nodded.

aLucky man.a Startled, Jessica looked up. Rafe was watching her with clear gray eyes. There was appreciation in his glance, but nothing impolite. She smiled uncertainly and went back to work removing Rafeas jacket.

aLuck is a matter of opinion,a Jessica said. aCan you get your jacket off your right shoulder?a Shots came from overhead. A few shots came in reply from the Indians, but they sounded distant. Rafe looked out the window, holstered his gun, and shrugged out of his heavy jacket. Jessica realized anew how big the man was. Were it not for the humor in his gray eyes, he would have been a rather fearsome presence.

aTheyare still coming, but not for long,a Rafe said. aYour husbandas pure h.e.l.l with that rifle. Besides, their horses canat take much more. They ran me a good long ways before I cut the stage road.a With his good arm, Rafe braced both Jessica and himself in the wildly jolting stage while she examined his wound. Her lips tightened as she saw the amount of blood covering his gray wool shirt. Saying nothing, she ripped more of the cloth away from the wound. After a better look at Rafeas muscular arm, she let out a sigh of relief.

aItas not as bad as I feared,a Jessica said as she pulled up the hem of her dress. aThe bullet missed the bone. You lost a chunk of skin and some muscle, but you have plenty of both to spare. Do you have a knife?a Rafe took a long knife from a sheath at his belt and held it out to her, haft first. aWatch out. I shave with it.a She grasped the knife carefully, glanced quickly at the golden-bronze stubble covering his face, and smiled an almost hidden smile. aDo you? When?a He chuckled, then shook his head and said wistfully, aYou remind me of my sister. She was a sa.s.sy little thing, too. At least, she used to be. I havenat seen her in years. Too many of them. Wanderl.u.s.t is as bad as gold fever for keeping a man away from his family.a Jessica sliced off strips of petticoat with remarkable speed. The knife was indeed razor sharp. It made quick work of the fine, ice-blue silk petticoat whose color matched the wool of her dress. As she began binding Rafeas arm, rifle fire broke out again.

Rafe c.o.c.ked his head, listening. No return fire came. aSounds like theyare giving up.a aPraise G.o.d,a Jessica said fervently. aWolfe was so exposed up there.a aYou were hardly out of the line of fire, maaam. The stagecoach isnat thick enough to stop bullets at close range.a aI hadnat thought about that,a she admitted. aI was too worried about Wolfe.a aLike I said, heas a lucky man.a aMaybe one day heall think so, too,a Jessica said under her breath. She ripped the trailing end of the silk down the middle and tied off the bandage. aThere. That should help the bleeding. At the next stage stop, Iall wash the wound with soap and clean water.a aThat isnat necessary.a aYes, it is,a she said as she helped Rafe back into his jacket. aA man called Semmelweis discovered that the horrible infections of childbed fever could be prevented if the doctor simply washed his hands before he treated each patient. If one infection can be prevented by washing, it stands to reason that others can, too.a aAre you a nurse?a Rafe asked, easing his arm into the coat with her help. aYou have very good hands, gentle and quick.a Jessica smiled. aThank you, but I have no formal training. My guardian raised me to be able to handle the common emergencies of a country estatea"broken bones, fevers, gashes, and such. Iave also had experience with pregnancy and childbirth.a Enough to know that I want no part of either, Jessica added silently as she turned away to check on the girl, who was still hugging herself. If I learned nothing else from my mother, I learned that.

aAre you all right, Mrs. OaConner?a Jessica asked.

Numbly, the girl nodded.

aAnd the babe?a Jessica said bluntly, putting her hands inside the girlas coat and pressing lightly against the womb. aIs it well, too?a The girl stared, shaken out of her apathy by the gentle, unexpected explorations of the other womanas hands.

aIs there any pain?a Jessica asked.

Mrs. OaConner shook her head.

A soundless sigh of relief came from Jessica. The girlas torso was supple and resilient rather than rigid with untimely contractions. Smiling rea.s.suringly, Jessica arranged the girlas coat snugly again and sat next to her on the bench seat, giving Rafe the opposite seat all to himself.

aTell me if that changes,a Jessica said.

The girl nodded, then smiled hesitantly. aThank you, maaam. Iam sorry if I insulted your husband. Itas justaa Her voice died and she crossed herself with a trembling hand. aIam so frightened of Indians. It sh-shames me.a aDonat worry yourself about it,a Jessica said. A feeling of sudden, overwhelming tiredness claimed her as the urgency of the moment pa.s.sed, leaving her drained. aI understand nightmares and daytime fears better than most.a The girl looked at Jessicaas hands, saw their trembling, and made a startled sound. aYouare afraid, too!a aOf course I am. Iam not too stupid to know when I might be mauled or murdered. Iave simply learned how to hide my fear.a Jessica shoved her hands beneath her cloak, pulled the heavy folds tightly around her, and closed her eyes, fighting for control. It had been much easier when there had been something to do besides sit around like a chicken trussed for the spit.

Finally the sounds of gunfire faded, became sporadic, and stopped completely. The pace of the stagecoach didnat slow. One of the jolts was so great that a rear wheel lifted completely off the ground, sending Jessica and Mrs. OaConner tumbling across the narrow aisle into Rafe. Jessicaas head cracked against the side of the stage, stunning her for a moment.

Rafe caught Jessica with his right arm and braced her across his chest as the coach slammed back down onto all four wheels.

aIam terribly sorry, sir,a Mrs. OaConner said, flushing as she righted herself and sat across the aisle once more.

aNo problem,a Rafe said. aMaaam? Are you all right?a Dazed, Jessica shook her head, trying to clear it. Sounds seemed to come at her from all sides, battering her, making it impossible to think or speak. Darkness spun around her, closer and closer.

Struggling despite the certainty that she couldnat win, Jessica fought the dark tide that was closing over her. Her last thought before she went under was a sick certainty that this was how her mother had felt each time the earl had dragged her into the marriage bed despite her screams and flailing fists, forcing her to accept the seed that one day would tear her apart.

Mrs. OaConner made a horrified sound and went to her knees in the narrow aisle in front of Jessica. aMrs. Lonetree?a Rafe didnat bother calling to Jessica. He had felt her body go utterly slack. He cradled her cheek against his chest, covered her exposed ear with his hand, and whistled shrilly enough to shatter gla.s.s, demanding the attention of the men riding on top of the stage.

aSlow down!a Rafe yelled. aOne of the women is hurt!a The words sent a chill through Wolfe. He grabbed the railing and bent down until he could look through a torn curtain into the stagecoachas interior. At first he could see nothing. Then Mrs. OaConner moved aside and he saw Jessica cradled in the big rideras arms.

The stage was still rolling when Wolfe swung down, ran alongside, and opened the door. With catlike quickness, he leaped into the stageas interior.

aIs she shot?a Wolfe demanded, setting aside the rifle he had kept in hand.

aNo,a Rafe said. aThe stage hit a b.u.mp and sent her flying. She hit her head so hard that it stunned her.a Wolfe grunted. aWell, that explains why the screaming stopped.a Rafe shot him a surprised look, but Wolfe didnat notice. He was too busy lifting Jessica from the strangeras big lap and onto his own. Mrs. OaConner drew back to the far corner of the seat to make room for him. Wolfe barely noticed the girlas retreat. He was too busy controlling the irrational anger that had seized him when he saw Jessica in another manas arms.

aThat was some fancy maneuver you pulled, mister,a Wolfe said as he examined the slight bruise forming on Jessicaas temple. aDonat know as Iave ever seen a man get on a stage like that.a aThe name is Rafe, and I wouldnat have had a chance without your shooting and your wifeas quick thinking. If she hadnat opened that door, Iad have had a h.e.l.l of a time pulling myself up on top of the stage one-handed.a aThank Mrs. OaConner. Iam afraid my wife was too gently raised to be of much use in a crisis,a Wolfe said curtly. He looked up at Mrs. OaConner. aAllow me to thank you as well. If you hadnat exposed yourself to fire long enough to pa.s.s up the rifle case, we all would have had a much worse time of it.a aIaa The girlas voice dried up as she looked at the fierce lines of Wolfeas face, seeing the clear presence of the savage beneath. She looked away quickly. aI did nothing.a Wolfe a.s.sumed the girl was simply being modest. He smiled at her and looked back down at Jessica. His smile faded. She appeared very small and fragile. Her face was bloodless. Even lips that were normally the color of ripe cherries had gone pale.

Now will you admit what I always knew? Wolfe demanded silently of his unconscious wife. Youare not the kind of woman who can survive the West, much less raise children in it. Youare a creature of lace and moonlight, an aristocrat who was never meant for hard use. You need a wealthy, t.i.tled husband who can wrap you in silk and satin and keep you from all harm.

Iam not that man. I never will be. I can no more change what I am than you can become a woman like Willow. 1 can only try to keep you alive until even your stubbornness has to give way before the truth.

We are all wrong for each other.

Silently, Wolfe held Jessicaas frail weight and cursed himself and her for the unholy tangle she had made of their lives; and beneath it all, he cursed the desire for her that gripped him even now, his body responding to the feel and scent of the girl he must not take, for then their marriage would be as real and final as death.

When Jessicaas eyes opened, the world swung dizzily around her, and the center of that world was a nightmare with dark eyes glowering fiercely down at her. With a stifled sound, she wrenched away. Wolfeas hand came down hard across her mouth as he held her close. The ease with which he overcame her struggles would have panicked Jessica, had not her eyes finally focused enough for her to recognize Wolfe. Her struggles stilled instantly, for she knew Wolfe would never hurt her.

aFinished?a Wolfe asked.

Jessica nodded, for his hand gave her no way to speak.

aGood. Weave heard quite enough of your screams of late.a aShe never screamed when I was around,a Rafe said evenly.

Wolfe gave the other man a look that would have frozen lightning.

Rafe gave the look right back.

aSheas a good hand at bandages, too,a Rafe added, opening his jacket enough to reveal his arm.

For the first time, Wolfe realized that Rafe had been wounded. Then Wolfe noticed that the bandage was made from an ice-blue silk that was the exact shade of Jessicaas eyes, which at the moment were quite icy indeed. He lifted his hand from her mouth.

aThank you, my lord,a Jessica said in a voice as cold as her eyes.

aIam not a lord.a aAnd Iam not a screaming ninnyhammer.a aCould have fooled me.a aIt is no great trick to fool a man who is deaf, dumb, and blind.a Rafe hid his laughter behind a cough. aHow is your head, maaam?a aStill attached.a Jessica closed her eyes for a moment. aAs is my tongue.a She looked up at Wolfe and remembered all her vows to be sweet, gentle, witty, and companionable. A wave of fatigue swept over her like another dark sea. It was very lonely being married to a man who looked at her with such unforgiving eyes.

aIam sorry,a Jessica said unhappily, her voice too low for anyone but Wolfe to hear. aIave done nothing but displease you. I wish we could go back to the days when you would run through a violent storm to find me. But we canat, can we? Iam sorry for that, too.a aWe can end it, my Lady Jessica. Just say the word.a aNever, my lord b.a.s.t.a.r.d,a she said softly, remembering the horror of having Lord Goreas teeth and hands raking her naked flesh. aNever.a Unable to bear Wolfeas eyes any longer, Jessica looked away. She had no more energy to fight him or the pain slicing through her temples with each jerk of the stage. Darkness tugged at her, a darkness it took all her strength to hold at bay. Yet it wasnat the blow to her head that drained her, it was the need to stave off the terrifying blackness of her unremembered dreams.

Somewhere deep inside her, a child screamed terror into the windaand was answered by a greater terror, memories condensing where none had been before.

aJessica?a There was no answer.

At first Wolfe thought she had fainted again. Then he saw that her eyes were open, fixed on something only she could see.