Wildstar

When he turned to speak to Clem, Flo leaned over to whisper in Jess's ear, "Gracious, doesn't that gorgeous fella have fine manners?"

"Fine manners don't make a fine man," Jess snapped back in a waspish tone.

Her defensiveness only increased, for a minute later Devlin offered her his arm to escort her out to the carriage. A glance of appeal at her father only received a stern frown, and Jess knew she was trapped. She couldn't refuse Devlin's offer without appearing incredibly rude. Gritting her teeth, she took his arm. She had promised her father she would get through this evening, and she would do it, even if she ground her teeth down to mere nubs.

Devlin tucked her fingers in the crook of his elbow and covered them with a gloved hand—far too possessively for Jess's peace of mind. She endured his touch, though, not about to give him cause to question her ability to conduct herself as a woman should.

As he walked her to the street, she even forced herself to say politely, if falsely, "I trust you have been well, Mr. Devlin?"

"Indeed, Miss Sommers. I enjoy the best of health."

"How unfortunate," Jess muttered under her breath.

The corner of his mouth kicked up in amusement, indi­cating he had heard her nasty remark. "I trust you have been well," he retorted in a low silken voice. "You didn't suffer any ill effects from our little tussle in bed the other day?"

At the reminder of her shameful behavior, Jess colored fiercely and glanced wildly over her shoulder to see if her father had overheard. She was vastly relieved to see that Flo was holding both Riley's and Clem's attention.

Determined not to be provoked, she took a deep breath and tried again. "I thought you would have left town by now."

"I'm devastated to disappoint you, angel, but I intend to stick around for a while longer. I never leave unfinished business."

They had reached the street by then, and he paused to look down at her, his gaze so unwavering that it startled her. His look seemed to imply that she was his unfinished business. There was something in his eyes that was both a promise and a threat. A dangerous threat. Dangerous and intimate. Jessica felt her heart lurch in confusion and alarm. Was he planning some kind of revenge in return for the accusations she'd made against him? His slow half smile gave her no clue. With a bland expression of benev­olence and generosity, he handed her into the carriage.

The vehicle was an expensive landau, with gold-etched door panels and maroon leather seat coverings. Devlin gave the ladies the forward-facing seats, intending for the gentlemen to take the opposite ones. Clem, however, stub­bornly climbed up beside the young driver Devlin had hired for the evening and took over the reins, declaring no wet-behind-the-ears kid was going to handle a team while he was around.

The two-mile drive to Georgetown was generally pleas­ant. The landau's top had been dropped in deference to the unusual warmth of the September evening, letting the pas­sengers enjoy the blue sky and golden mountain air. Under normal circumstances Jess would have relished such an outing. This part of Clear Creek Canyon was unspoiled by mining works and provided some of the grandest scenery in the district.

The narrow road followed the twists and turns of the canyon, running alongside the rushing, boulder-strewn stream, whose banks were lined with willows and alders. Great walls of rock flanked the road, rising almost straight up. The surrounding mountains were clad with green pon-derosa pines, as well as aspens and mountain maples that were just starting to turn brilliant gold and red in a prelude to fall.

Jess was relieved she wasn't sharing her seat with Dev­lin, yet having him directly across from her was almost

worse. She suffered his scrutiny in annoyance and bewil­derment. She couldn't dismiss the intensity and awareness in his eyes, the speculation. His shrewd gray eyes were measuring her, as if he were mentally undressing her and then regowning her in something far more feminine and revealing.

Twilight was begining to fall as they reached George­town. They drove along quiet, prosperous streets, beneath golden aspens and leafy cottonwoods, passing pretty clap­board houses with picket fences, and attractive Victorian mansions built in the Queen Anne and Gothic Revival styles, where the recognized pillars of society lived.

Georgetown boasted several fine hotels and restaurants, but Devlin was taking them to the finest—the Hotel de Paris, which was renowned for its elegant decor, superb food, and excellent wines. When they arrived at the hotel and were shown to their table in the dining room, she could almost understand Devlin's earlier scrutiny of her at­tire. All the other ladies there wore evening gowns that left the shoulders bare and set off the tasteful jewelry at their throats and ears. Jessica suddenly felt dowdy in compari­son. She should have done as her father had suggested, she decided, and bought a new outfit, even if it sent her into bankruptcy.

To her dismay she found herself seated next to Devlin, who, as host, claimed the head of the table. The owner and chef himself, Louis Dupuy, came out to greet Devlin per­sonally. Jess listened in surprise as Devlin spoke in French. When he had introduced his guests and Monsieur Dupuy had gone off to prepare what he promised would be a fabulous meal, Clem gave Devlin a narrow-eyed stare.

"How'd you learn to talk that la-dee-da Frenchy jawin'?"

Devlin smiled easily. "My esteemed father insisted on a gentleman's education for his only son. It's come in handy a time or two in my business dealings."

He might have said more, but Flo interrupted in order to threaten Clem. "You behave yourself, Clem Haverty, or you'll be eatin' nothing but greens for the next month."

Clem scowled, but subsided into silence—for about two minutes, until the waiter brought the champagne. Flo thought that a big treat, but Clem grumbled about wanting some good whiskey instead of this pap that passed for li­quor. Flo lit into him then, giving him a blistering lecture on manners and gratitude.

Under the cover of her scolding, Devlin turned to Jess on his right. "I hope the champagne is to your taste, Miss Jess."

His formality irked her. After the intimacies they'd shared, it seemed absurd that he should revert to calling her "Miss Jess," even though she had been the one to start it. But then, he was only doing it to provoke her, she was sure.

"It's very good," she answered politely. "I suppose you drink champagne ail the time?"

"I have it for breakfast occasionally."

He was taunting her about his wealth, Jess decided, her temper rising ten degrees. Only three times in her life had she ever even tasted champagne.

When she didn't reply, Devlin tilted his dark head to one side, giving her the full effect of his lazy smile. "You'll have to become accustomed to champagne, now that you're a wealthy young woman."