Bound By Marriage(7)

"I don't take orders well."

"Funny, you followed them perfectly last night."

Her spine stiffened to ruler-straightness. "Exactly the kind of thing a woman wants to hear after her first time."

He winced. "Point taken."

Her mouth fell open at the oblique apology. Gabe took full advantage, sliding

his hand to her nape and claiming the kiss he'd asked for. Still  sensitive from the unbridled sexuality of the previous night, her  defenses were pitifully weak.

She was horrified to hear herself make a sound of protest when he began  to pull away. But Gabe liked it. Folding her into his arms, he kissed  her with even more intensity.

By the time he finally left the room, she was in complete emotional disarray.

This had not been in the plan, this acute response to his touch. She'd  always talked about love and sex in the same breath, always assumed  she'd care deeply for any man she made love with. Yet here she was,  shattering every time Gabe touched her. It shamed her deeply.

And the worst thing was, she had no idea how to fight it. Her love for  Damon had insulated her against other men since the day she'd reached  adulthood. But that shield had buckled under the potent seduction of  Gabe's masculinity.

Unable to think of anything that would make her feel better about her  sudden descent into lust unaccompanied by love or romance, she did what  she always did when she needed to think. She pulled out a sketch pad and  began to draw.

She began every project with a detailed sketch, never putting oil paint  to canvas until she'd worked out all the dimensions and angles. In  truth, she wasn't impulsive in any area of her art-she carefully thought  through the subject before she created, step by slow step. But today  she let her hand run free with no conscious interference. What emerged  was an image of the face she'd carried in her heart for over a decade.

If only Damon hadn't waited so long to make that drunken call, she  wouldn't be here. They would have been married long before her father's  death, would have found some other way to hold onto Randall Station. But  he'd waited until it was eons too late, Kayla's pregnancy combined with  Jess's debt to Gabriel opening an impassable chasm between them.

That distance hurt. Damon had been her closest friend since childhood,  their relationship a combination of mischief and laughter. He'd helped  her see the sunshine again after her mother's early death, teasing her  out of tears and forcing her to rejoin the world. She'd confessed her  secrets to him, listened to his in return, and somewhere between  childhood and womanhood, she'd fallen in love.

He'd broken her heart when he'd married Kayla. And he'd crushed it again  with that phone call. "Why?" she whispered to the sketch. "Why did you  wait so long?"

It was as well they hadn't met before her wedding-Jess wasn't sure she  could have withstood his declarations in person. And now she was  Gabriel's. Not that it mattered. If Damon had truly meant what he'd  said, he would have tracked her down the moment she arrived home. But he  hadn't. Why?

Throwing the pencil to the floor, she dropped her head into her hands.  "Help me." It was a tortured whisper. But no one was listening.

Several hours later, Jess looked out at the Dumont family plot from  inside the Jeep. She'd forced this visit but now that they were here,  she was no longer sure she'd made the right decision. It was apparent  that Gabe would much rather be elsewhere.

"Are you coming?" she asked, opening her door. He'd surprised her by  accompanying her to her parents' graves. She had no idea what to expect  from him this time, especially since he'd been so silent on the long  drive back to Angel.                       
       
           



       

He undid his seat belt and got out, not saying a word as she opened the  back door and reached for the greenery and flowers she'd gathered from  around the station. But he was by her side when she walked toward the  final resting places of Stephen, Mary, Raphael, Michael and Angelica  Dumont.

Stopping in front of Raphael's grave, she looked up at him. "Would you like to lay the flowers?"

"No." His tone made it crystal clear he considered this a waste of time.

She was cut to the quick but refused to rush. This was important.

Gabe reacted only when she went to put flowers on his mother's resting place.

Striding over, he moved them to his sister's instead.

"Gabe?"

"Are you done?"

"Yes." She rose from her crouch, eyes on the harsh lines of a face she found impossible to read. "But … "

"But what, Jess? They're dead and have been for twenty-five years." He  glanced at his watch. "I have to check some fencing. We'd better head  back."

She grabbed his hand to stop him when he would have turned away, acting  more out of instinct than logic. His eyes slammed into hers, but she  found the courage to stand her ground. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize how  much this would hurt you."

He raised an eyebrow. "I'm fine. You're the one who wanted to come out here."

"Gabe," she began, convinced she'd glimpsed a deep vulnerability behind  his uncaring mask. Hope fountained in her blood. Perhaps her marriage  wouldn't be a soulless one after all. If Gabe could feel so intensely,  then maybe what had gone on between them last night hadn't been based on  lust alone.

"Jess, you know me. I'm not some wounded hero you have to save. I was  ten years old when they died. I barely remember them." Turning, he  shrugged off her hand and strode to the car.

Jess wanted to believe he was lying but the look on his face as he'd  spoken had been nothing but calm, nothing but completely in control.  Hope crumbled. No wonder Gabe never visited his parents' and siblings'  graves-the man didn't even have the heart to love their memory.

An entire day and a surprisingly undisturbed night of sleep later, Jess  was sketching on the verandah when a battered old pickup roared down the  drive. She waited for whoever it was to park and walk over, but the  driver raced all the way to the edge of the verandah before braking to a  sudden halt on the grass.

Frowning at the theatrics, she put down the sketch pad. Who in the-? The  vehicle's door swung open and out jumped the last person she'd expected  to see.

"Jessie girl!" Running up the steps, Damon wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her off her feet.

It was impossible not to be happy to see him, not when she'd missed him  so very much. Blue-eyed with jet black hair, Damon had the looks of a  movie star or a playboy. But it was his smile she'd fallen for, a bright  slash that constantly proclaimed his amusement at the whole world.

She laughed for the first time since arriving back in the country. "Let me down, you idiot."

That familiar smile faded. "I don't ever want to let you go." But he  lowered her until her feet touched the floorboards. "Couldn't you have  waited till I got back?" It was a pained accusation. "You didn't even  give me a chance."

Butterflies in her stomach. The bad kind. "What?"

"I heard you got hitched while I was out of town."

"You heard right." Said in a quiet but lethal voice, the statement came  from the other side of the verandah. "So I suggest you get your hands  off her."

Aware how it must look, Jess moved out of Damon's arms, face flushing alternately hot and cold. "Damon came to say hello."

Gabe walked over to put his own arm around her waist. Rebelling against  the display of ownership, she tried to pull away but unlike Damon, Gabe  wasn't willing to budge. "Did he?"

Jess was surprised to see Damon's eyes narrow. "Did you even tell Jess I  wanted to speak to her when she got back?" His chin jutted out.

"Funny," Gabe said, his tone completely reasonable and indefinably  dangerous at the same time, "I thought they had phones all over the  country."

Jess was starting to be scared for Damon. He was strong but no match for Gabe.

She pleaded silently with him when he glanced at her and to her relief,  his next words were civil. "I think me and Jessie need to talk."

Gabriel's arm became a steel trap. "You want to talk to my wife, you can do it right now."

"Yeah, sure. Later, Jess." Damon left with the same turbulence with which he'd arrived.                       
       
           



       

Jess didn't speak again until his pickup was a blur in the distance.  Then she wrenched herself out of Gabe's hold to face him, arms crossed.  "What did you think you were doing?"

"I thought I was making it clear that you're now my wife, something you  seemed to have forgotten." His eyes glittered with anger. "How long were  you planning to make out with him in front of half the station?"