Wildstar

When she lifted her mouth to his, Devlin returned her kiss perfunctorily, with his eyes open, finding it impossible not to compare the kiss he'd taken from Jess last night to this one—with surprising results. Beautiful, sultry, seduc­tive Lena, even with all her experience and skill, came in a distant second to the unpracticed, tawny-haired firebrand he'd ached to make love to last night. And, while Jessica had adamantly refused his advances, Lena's embrace was proprietary and clinging.

She was also apparently fishing for information. Draw­ing back slightly, Lena pouted prettily. "Where'd you go last night, sweetie? Not to some other woman, I hope."

He gave her an apologetic smile and a gallant answer. "What sane man would want another woman if he could have you?"

Somewhat mollified, Lena suggestively pressed her vo­luptuous body against his, which amazingly did nothing to arouse him.

"The truth is," Devlin prevaricated, "I spent last night alone, out in the open, on the cold hard ground, playing nursemaid to a mine shaft. Not an experience I relished."

Unwrapping her arms from around him, he poured Lena a shot of whiskey and sat her down in the leather armchair so he could explain about his involvement in the mine feud and ply her for his own information. Stretched out on the large bed, his hands behind his head, he told her about accepting the job guarding the Wildstar mine.

Lena wasn't at all pleased that he'd taken sides against Ashton Burke, or that he'd become involved with anything having to do with Jessica Sommers. But she told him ev­erything she knew when he asked about Zeke McRoy— which wasn't a lot more than he'd already learned. Zeke was a trigger-happy drifter who'd ridden into town one day and hired on as a guard at the Lady J mine. He was on the payroll for almost a year before he'd disappeared about six months ago.

Lena did, however, have a lot to say about how the bit­ter feud between Ashton Burke and Riley Sommers had started. It was, naturally, over a woman.

"Mercy, but it was a big scandal at the time," Lena re­flected. "Not that I recall it—I was only a baby back then. But I've heard a lot of talk since. Jenny Ann Elliot was a real pretty girl, not fancy or anything, just nice and a bit shy. Well, one summer Ash got smitten with her and began to pay her a lot of attention . . . dishonor-rable attention, you might say. Being British and all, Ash has these notions. He says he's the son of some esquire back in England, what­ever an esquire is. Doesn't sound very important to me. Anyway, Jenny Ann wasn't good enough for him to marry. Her pa was well-to-do, but only a doctor, and Ash was a rich man even back then.

"It shocked everybody when one day she up and mar­ried Riley Sommers. Riley was only a miner, working for another outfit. But I guess Jenny Ann finally got wise to Ash and was willing to settle for being poor if she could have a respectable ring on her finger. Of course, she would never have become his mistress. Wasn't the type. But that was all Ash would have offered. Still, the way Ash saw it, it was like she'd jilted him."

Lena frowned down at her glass. "You know what I think, Garrett, honey? I think Ash named the Lady J mine after Jenny Ann. It was his way of causing talk and getting back at her for giving him the cold shoulder. Maybe he wanted to make her remember what she gave up. Not that she gave up much. He would have lost interest in her after a while, and then where would she have been? Ash only wants what he can't have."

She looked up and gave Devlin a half smile that held a bleakness that oddly touched his heart. "You know, I guess I ought to thank you, sugar. Ash has been a lot nicer to me since you came to town. Maybe it's the competition, you think?"

Devlin couldn't help the sympathetic urge he felt. Drag­ging his weary body off the bed, he crossed to Lena's chair, bent over her, traced her lips with a gentle finger, and gave her a chaste kiss that was more consoling than passionate. "I think Burke must be a blind man to over­look what you could offer him."

Lena's dark eyes grew moist. "You sure do know how to make a girl feel wanted, sugar." When Devlin smiled and tucked three gold double eagles into the pocket of her morning gown, her gaze turned solemn. "Jess Sommers ain't your type, any more than her ma was Ash's. You sure you want to get tangled up with her?"

He was already tangled up, but that wasn't an answer he could give. "After being up all night," he said instead, "the only thing I'm sure of right now is that I want a bath, a shave, a meal, and a soft bed—not necessarily in that or­der."

"I guess you want that soft bed all to your lonesome."

"If I had the energy, sweetheart, I would love the com­pany, but I'm wrung out. And I was supposed to report for duty at the Sommers place several hours ago."

Lena gave him a sad little smile as she rose. "Well, you know where to find me if you change your mind."

Devlin didn't change his mind during the following week. In the first place he was too busy settling in to his new job and adjusting to his strange new schedule, not having slept during the day in years. In the second place, he remained distinctly uninterested in the notion of taking any woman to bed other than Jessica Sommers. Taking her, though, was out of the question. Besides the fact that she was a virginal young lady, having an irate father on his hands was not something Devlin wanted to deal with.

He was already under suspicion, it seemed. That first morning when he'd arrived at the Sommers home, bedrid­den Riley Sommers grilled him for a full half hour—about his name, his background, his previous occupations, and his current prospects—to make certain his intentions we

re honorable.

Devlin kept to the truth as far as possible, revealing that in the past he'd worked cattle, been involved in railroad construction, and served a stint as a law officer. But it was only when he admitted to having done some hard-rock mining in the Dakota Territory and that he could hold his own on a double jack team that Sommers reluctantly de­cided his character would pass muster. Double jacking was the old-fashioned method of breaking up rock. It required two or three skilled men, one to hold and rotate the drill steel, the others to pound the steel with a double-weight hammer. It was faster than single jacking—one man alone—but ten times slower than the new steam-driven pneumatic drills, which independent miners like Riley Sommers could rarely afford to own.

"Takes a good man to double jack," Riley conceded, his words slurred by pain. Obviously hurting from his back wound, he winced and shifted carefully on the mattress, as if trying to find a more comfortable position. "Still," he observed, "working a mine isn't the same as guarding one. You ever done that kind of duty before?"

"Not professionally," Devlin answered truthfully. "But I had a claim in the Black Hills that I couldn't leave un­guarded for a minute, not if I wanted to protect it from claim jumpers. For three months I did nothing but camp there with a rifle, sleeping with one eye open."

Riley nodded wearily, discernibly beginning to tire but apparently not yet satisfied. "So why did you agree to hire on with us? If Burke wants the Wildstar bad enough to shoot me, he isn't likely to give up. It could get pretty rough."

"Your daughter persuaded me to take the job, Mr. Sommers. The salary she offered was generous, and I have nothing better to do at the moment."

"She's using the money she saved," Riley muttered, with a grimace of pain not entirely due to his bullet wound.

Devlin judiciously remained silent.

"It still doesn't set well," Riley said finally. "I don't like letting somebody else fight my battles for me. But I guess I'm in no position to be choosy." Giving in to exhaustion and pain, he closed his eyes. "Doc says I'm to lie on my stomach for a week, and then maybe I can get out of this blamed bed for short spells." He gave a sigh. "All right, Mr. Devlin, you've got the job guarding the Wildstar. And I'm much obliged for your help."

To his surprise, Devlin found himself liking the older man. After the hardships Riley had apparently put his daughter through over the years, Devlin had expected to find a selfish son of a bitch who thought only of his mine and himself, but Riley obviously cared as deeply for Jessica as she did for him.