Wildstar

r /> But what was the alternative? If he didn't marry her, if he left her here and returned to Chicago without her, would he be making the biggest mistake of his life? The kind of mistake Ashton Burke had made and paid dearly for—was still paying dearly for? Riley had warned him not to let real love slip away—

Jess. interrupted his troubling contemplations by speak­ing.

"Devlin, I want to go home . . ." She lifted her quiv­ering chin. "To my father. I have to talk to Riley."

Forcing aside his own conflicting thoughts, he pressed a soft kiss on her lips. Now was not the proper moment to .sort out his future relationship with Jess. She didn't need to deal with anything else but this crisis just now, and he needed to take a good hard look at his feelings for her. Alone, without distractions. "All right, angel. But I'm rid­ing back with you. You don't need to be alone at a time like this."

"Thank you." She hesitated, gazing up at him. "Why are you always so nice to me?"

He gave her the kind of seductive, teasing, heart-stoppingly beautiful grin that couldn't fail to bolster her spirits. "Simple retribution. I want you to be properly re­pentant for all the terrible things you accused me of. By now you should feel like a lowly worm."

Her mouth trembled with a smile. "I . . . I guess maybe I was wrong about you."

"You guess?"

"All right, I know I was wrong. I'm sorry."

He dropped a light kiss on her mouth. "Apology ac­cepted. Now, come. Riley's waiting for you at home."

They returned to the canyon rim then. Jess studiously avoided looking at Ashton Burke, but Devlin saw that someone had taken charge of him. The marshal had rounded up all the prisoners as well, so there was nothing remaining for Devlin to do but take Jess home. He col­lected both her horse and his own, and helped her mount.

They hardly spoke on the long ride back. Devlin hesi­tated to interrupt the silence, for Jess seemed to need the quietude.

It was well after noon by the time they arrived back in Silver Plume and rode up to the Sommerses' small house. Riley must have been waiting anxiously, for he opened the front door the instant the horses came to a halt. Stepping into the sunlight, he took one long look at Jessica and seemed to shrink. The fear and hurt written on her face proclaimed louder than words that she had learned the truth about her parentage.

Riley stood there awkwardly while she dismounted, looking as uncertain, as vulnerable, as Jess did. They were facing each other before he managed to speak. "Do you hate me, Jessie?"

Her eyes filled abruptly with tears, "I could never hate you."

Her father held out his arms and, after the slightest hes­itation, she walked into them, accepting his embrace.

It was a poignant moment, too intimate, too painful, to share with outsiders. Devlin felt like an intruder.

Turning in the saddle, he looked away—up at the rugged mountains that pierced the crisp, blue Colorado sky. This was the moment he should take his leave. There really was no reason for him to stay. His job in Silver Plume was finished; he'd done what he'd come here to do.

They had recovered some of the money and much of the silver bullion that Purcell's gang had stolen. Three of the men had confessed to robbing the Colorado Central and identified the two others who had fired the shots which had killed the engineer and fireman. Purcell hadn't partic­ipated directly in the robberies, but he was the brains be­hind the gang and had provided information about train schedules and bullion shipments.

Devlin took an unsteady breath. He had delivered Jessica safely to her father, so he could leave with a clear conscience. In any case, she needed time to get to know Riley again, time to come to terms with the truth.

Silently he reined back his horse.

Just then Riley lifted his gaze and met Devlin's, over his daughter's head.

Devlin could see the unasked question in the older man's eyes: Will you be back?

It was a question Devlin couldn't answer just then.

"Take care of her." he said softly, before he turned his horse and rode away.

Chapter 19

How did one face the fact that the father you'd known all your life wasn't really your father? That was the question Jess wrestled with, waking or sleeping.

Riley's confession upon her return actually filled her with more doubts than it settled. She had talked to him long into the night—about Burke, about her mother, about what had happened twenty-odd years ago. But while Jess understood the logic behind the dissimulation, she still couldn't seem to get a handle on the truth emotionally. Outwardly she seemed unaffected; inwardly she was a mass of jumbled feelings, even though Riley had tried to reassure her.

"It didn't matter that you weren't my kid," he told her more than once. "I loved you like my own flesh and blood . . . maybe more, since it was because of you that your mother married me."

It wasn't that she didn't believe him. She knew Riley still loved her, just like she knew the sun would rise every morning and set every evening. It was just that she seemed suddenly to have lost her identity. She didn't know who she was anymore. She wasn't Riley's daughter, so what did that make her?