Wildstar

Listening to his retreating footsteps, Jess shut her eyes. In agony, she turned and buried her face in the pillow that smelled

hauntingly of Devlin.

She lay there curled on her side, hearing the reverbera­tion of the slamming door echo the beat of her aching heart.

Chapter 14

Jess suffered from an overdose of self-condemnation during the three days following her break with Devlin. She hated herself for being taken in by a smooth-talking bounder with a bank account the size of the U.S. mint. She'd compromised her deepest principles by even giving him the time of day, let alone surrendering her body, but at least then she'd had the excuse of ignorance. She hadn't known then what kind of dandified polecat she was deal­ing with.

But she'd known what Devlin was when he'd made love to her that last time. She hated herself for falling into bed with him the instant he'd kissed her. And she hated herself for still wanting him. Her lips felt bruised from his passion, her heart tattered, but she couldn't stop remem­bering the shattering ecstasy she'd found in his arms, or the powerful way he'd made her feel-—all weak and fem­inine and trembling and hungry for love.

She must be touched in the head to have fallen for him. Her mother had warned her a hundred times against men like Devlin. It was a cardinal rule. No matter how charm­ing or handsome or glib of tongue a man was, no matter what promises he made, never, never give him your trust until after the ring was on your finger. Wealthy barons weren't like normal folks. Success and power went to their heads, until the only relationships they were capable of were based on manipulation and lust. Love was the last thing on their minds. They didn't even know how to love. Her mother had discovered that the hard way with Ashton Burke.

Fiercely Jess tried to swallow the ache in her throat. Devlin would never love her. He wouldn't want marriage and a family—

The startling thought that flashed through her mind just then made Jess draw a sharp breath. Her hand stole to her stomach. What if she were pregnant? What if making love to Devlin resulted in a child? She would want the baby, but Devlin wouldn't. He'd told her as much that time on the trail when they'd talked about what they each wanted out of life.

It was a long moment before she decided there was no point in tormenting herself with such possibilities. She would just have to face it if it happened.

But the terrible ache in her heart wouldn't go away. She'd known Devlin didn't want a wife and family. What she hadn't realized was that their whole association was based on a lie. He had used her. For his own purposes, his own convenience. She couldn't forgive that or forget.

Confound it, she would forget it—and him! If she had to dose herself with laudanum for the next century, she would quit thinking about Devlin day and night and every minute in between.

Trouble was, she hated laudanum and the headachy sluggishness it always left behind. Trouble also was, ev­eryone around her seemed to conspire against her. No one would let her forget Devlin. Riley was pushing ahead with the renovation of the Wildstar and the expansion of his op­eration, and he refused to hear a word against the man who'd made it possible. Clem, while still unhappy, had ac­cepted the situation when Devlin's money financed five brand-spanking-new ore wagons and mule teams. That many would be needed just to keep up with the new steam-powered mechanical rock drills they'd ordered. Flo couldn't stop talking about how grand it was that that "gorgeous fella" was obscenely rich and that he was gonna give Burke his comeuppance.

Jess could hardly stand it. Could no one see what Dev­lin was doing with his filthy money? Pretty soon he would have total control of the Wildstar. Oh, maybe not legally, but her father would be under such a financial obligation that he couldn't dare refuse whatever Devlin wanted to do with it.

She nearly took Flo's head off one afternoon for merely mentioning Devlin's name, but it didn't seem to faze the widow one bit.

"What's got you so het up?" Flo demanded.

"Not a blessed thing," Jess returned resentfully. "I like seeing my father being taken in by a snake-in-the-grass."

"You talking about Devlin?"

Jess gritted her teeth, remembering what he had done yesterday. She'd gone to the bank to draw out the two hundred and fifty dollars she owed him, which put a huge hole in her savings. She'd sent Mr. Kwan over to Devlin's hotel with the money, but Devlin had sent back double the amount, with a note scrawled on the back of a gold-embossed calling card saying he carried more in pocket change and why didn't she buy herself a pretty gown with it, something soft and feminine? Reading the note brought back the red-hot shame Jess had felt when he'd last ac­cused her of acting like a man. And then he'd had the gall to show up for dinner yesterday at the boardinghouse when she wasn't there. Not only had he weaseled Flo into serving him a three-course meal, he'd managed to sweet-talk her into swallowing his side of the story.

"Yes, I'm talking about Devlin," Jess ground out. "He lied to me from the start about who he was, pretending to be a tinhorn gambler when he was as rich as Croesus, and then—"

"Come on now, Jess, he explained all that."

"Okay, maybe he had cause for not telling the whole world who he was at first, but there was no good reason for not telling us. Especially after he found Zeke McRoy. All Devlin did was use us," she added bitterly. "And he had no call going behind my back to buy the mine from Riley. He didn't even have the gumption to tell me to my face." Jessica had more she could say about why she felt betrayed, but she wasn't about to tell Flo. Her seduction at Devlin's hands—or his seduction at hers, if she was per­fectly honest—was not something she intended to discuss with anyone.

"Don't you think you're being a mite unfair?" Flo de­manded. "Not every rich fella is like Mr. High-n'-mighty Burke."

"Devlin's like him. Worse, even. At least I knew better than to trust Burke. As far as I'm concerned, Devlin can take his fat bank account and ride out of town with it."

"I swear I don't understand what has you so riled."

"You don't understand? He's already started trying to run our boardinghouse, and he's changed everything up at the mine—how can you be so blind? If we keep taking his money, he'll be able to ride roughshod over us any time he takes a notion."

"Well, I think you're gettin' stirred up over nothing."

"I am not! And if he tries anything else . . . if he so much as looks crossways at me, I'll . . . I'll . . . box his ears."

"Us widows aren't so picky as you young gals," Flo said cheerfully. "That gorgeous fella can look at me any which way he wants, and I'll be right glad of it."

Jess shook her head, but she understood very well the appeal Devlin held for females of any age. She herself couldn't deny the fierce attraction, no matter how hard she tried. But it wasn't Devlin's stunning looks that she ob­jected to. It was the way he used them to get his way.