Desire beat in harsh waves through Wolfe, but he remained motionless. He didn’t trust himself to touch Jessica. If she responded to an outright caress with the laughter and honesty she had just shown, he wouldn’t stop caressing her until he was sheathed within her.
Then the marriage would be all too real. She would be bound for life to ahalfbreed mustang hunter, and he would be bound for life to a girl who was afraid of being a woman.
«I think,» Wolfe said distinctly, opening his eyes, «it’s time to get on with teaching you how to make coffee. There’s too much water in the coffeepot. Pour the extra into the priming pitcher. And next time, fill the pitcher first.»
«Why?»
«Because if it’s dry when you go to pump the next time, you have to walk to the spring for water before you can get any water from the pump.»
«I must pour water in the pump before I can pump water out.» Jessica shook her head. «That hardly makes sense.»
«Most rituals don’t.»
«What if I pump without adding water first?»
«The mechanism wasn’t made to work dry. You’ll ruin it.»
«And your temper, too?» Jessica guessed.
«Count on it. Reno’s, too. He helped me put in the pump.»
«Is he a neighbor?»
«No,» Wolfe said. «He hunts for Spanish treasure in the desert when he’s not staying with Willow in the SanJuans.»
«Truly? What does Caleb think of that?»
«He approves.»
«That’s quite, er, exceptional of him.»
«Reno is Willow’s brother.»
Jessica blinked and muttered beneath her breath, «Daunting prospect, being brother to a paragon.»
Wolfe handed Jessica the coffeepot and gestured toward the stove. When she set the pot down, water sloshed onto the black surface of the stove. The cast iron was cold. After fumbling for a bit with the stove door, she managed to open it and peer inside. Kindling was laid out in orderly array.
«Looking for these?» Wolfe asked.
Jessica straightened. He was holding out a cup full of matches he had taken from a shelf near the stove.
«You do know which end to scrape against the iron, don’t you?» he asked dryly.
«The lamp didn’t light itself,» she pointed out.
Wolfe glanced at the lamp smoking happily on the counter. «So I see. Were you planning on smoking fish over the chimney?»
«Don’t be silly. Even I know the difference between a lantern and a fish smoker.»
Jessica scraped a match over the stovetop. It broke. She took another matchstick from the tin cup.
«Besides, I’m not to blame for the smoke,» she muttered, taking another swipe at the stovetop. «I did nothing but light the lamp.» The match didn’t catch. She pressed harder and tried again. No flame jumped to the tip. «It must be the oil you use that’s causing the smoke.»
«No, it’s the wick you used. It’s the wrong length,» Wolfe explained. «If you trim it correctly, the lamp won’t smoke.»
«Then by all means, trim the wick,» she retorted.
Jessica dragged the match over the stove yet again. The head of the match caught and broke off at the same time, sending a shower of burningsulphur tumbling down her skirt.
«Blast!» she said under her breath as she shook off the sparks.
When Wolfe had adjusted the wick properly, he went back to the stove. Jessica was in the process of breaking another match in half while trying to strike it on the smooth, greasy portion of the stove’s metal surface. With a muttered word, she took a new match from the diminishing supply in the cup.
«Here,» Wolfe said, reaching past Jessica and putting his hand over hers. «Hold onto the match. Now bring it across the spot where the fire below burned the hottest. The metal is clean there. No soot or grease is left to foul the match tip.»
As Wolfe spoke, he drew Jessica’s hand beneath his over the stove in a swift, firm stroke. The match blazed instantly to life.
«See?» he said.
Jessica looked over her shoulder at Wolfe. The burning match was reflected in his eyes. The contrast between the flame and the blue midnight of his irises enthralled her, as did the straight, black length of his eyelashes and the pronounced arch of his eyebrows. The intensity and intelligence in his eyes was brighter and more alluring than even the dance of flame.
The odd, shivering sensations returned to her stomach.
«Jessi?»
«Yes, I see.»
«Do you? You look rather baffled.»
«Just a bit shocked.»
«By lighting a match?»
She smiled oddly. «No. By you. I just realized how very handsome you are.»
Wolfe’s eyes widened a fraction, then narrowed. The pulse at his throat speeded.
«I mean, I’ve always known you were handsome,» Jessica continued, trying to explain. «Everyone from duchesses to maids has rattled on about your looks for years, but I neverreallyknew. It’s rather unsettling suddenly to see you as they must have seen you.»
She laughed uncertainly. «Don’t stare at me so. I feel foolish enough as it is. How could I overlook something so obvious for so many — oh!»
Jessica’s hand jerked as the match burned down to her skin. She snatched her fingers to her lips and dropped the still flaming match onto the stovetop.
«Are you all right?» Wolfe asked.
Jessica blew on her fingertips before staring at them critically. «Just a trifle scorched.»
«Let me see.»
He looked at her fingertips, then bent his head and gently ran the tip of his tongue over them. When he lifted his head again, Jessica was watching him with an expression on her face that could have been shock or disgust.
«You needn’t look so appalled,» Wolfe said curtly. «It’s only what a cat would do for a foolish kitten.»
Jessica opened her mouth but no words came out. A visible shudder ran over her. Wolfe turned away and lit another match with a swift slash of his hand.
«Go unpack the trunks, your ladyship,» he said as he set the match to the previously laid fire. «Theviscount’ssavage will fix supper tonight.»
Jessica flinched. She hadn’t realized how warm and affectionate Wolfe’s voice had become until she measured it against the return of ice and distance.
«Wolfe? What have I done?»
«When you’re finished unpacking, be sure to take some of those aristocratic bed linens you brought and make a pallet by the hearth. A nun like you wouldn’t want to do something so bestial as to sleep near any man, much less a savage like your husband.»
Wolfe stood up. Behind him the stove fire blossomed into orange flames.
«But —» she began.
«You said when I tired of your company you would leave me alone,» Wolfe interrupted, slamming the stove door shut. «Do that, Lady Jessica. Now.»
Even an aristocrat had some common sense. Jessica picked up her skirts and fled to Wolfe’s bedroom. But even there, she found no peace.
The sound of the wind was very loud in the silence.
