Henry dropped the ax and came forward, still highly colored. “You’re the one who should be here doing this! Not me!”
Candice bit her lip. “Henry!”
“And just how is it you’re on such close terms with my wife?” Jack asked, with no inflection except to the last word.
“I—”
“We met through Doc Harris,” Candice cut in, using the first lie she could think of. She gave Henry a warning look, then flamed when she saw Jack reading it.
They stared at each other.
Henry broke the silence and awkwardness. “Candice, I guess I’ll go.” With that he turned and retrieved his coat, shrugging it on. Jack didn’t move, his arm still around her until Henry had mounted and was riding out.
“You go inside,” Jack said, looking at her with piercing eyes. “I have to rub down the black.”
“Jack …”
“We’ll talk inside.” He led his horse to the covered remuda.
Candice turned and went into the house. There was no mistaking her joy. She was apprehensive, too, because of Henry. But if Jack had never left her, she wouldn’t have the need for another man to do her domestic chores. She was just praying that he wouldn’t think it meant something more.
And then there was the anger. Even though it had taken a backseat to her happiness at seeing him again, he had left her at a terrible time, and that wasn’t something she could forgive him for so quickly. Even now she could feel her body tensing.
But maybe he had come back to stay.
She was standing with her hands on a chair when Jack entered, tossing his rawhide hat onto a peg. Their gazes locked. Nervously Candice said, “Jack, Henry only helps out because of my condition.”
He unstrapped his gunbelt and hung it on a peg, then turned, eyes blazing. “He’s in love with you.”
Candice went red. “I don’t think so. It’s not what you’re thinking.…”
He removed the ammunition belts, tossing them on a chair. “No?” His tone was as cold as ice chips.
He had left her. If he’d stayed, she wouldn’t have needed Henry’s help, and now, now he was making accusations … “How dare you!” she cried. “What are you accusing me of? Are you calling me a whore again?”
His fist smashed down on the table, making it jump, knocking a pitcher and bowls to the floor, where the pottery shattered. “Has he touched you?”
“You left me. You abandoned me, you have no right coming in here demanding—”
He grabbed her, pulling her up against him. “I have every right. You’re my wife. Did he touch you?”
Candice could feel the entire length of his hard body, and it was trembling with fury and jealousy. She herself was shaking, enraged and sick. “Damn you, Jack, damn you! I needed his help, you left me, and Henry was kind.”
“How kind?” Jack gritted.
“You bastard!” she cried. Tears welled up in her eyes. “All right, he kissed me once, damn you, once, and if you were here he wouldn’t have. It’s all your fault!”
For one instant Jack stared into her eyes, and she thought she saw it all, the anger, the hurt, the jealousy, the love. Then his mouth came down, hard and abrupt, on hers. Candice tried to turn her face away, but he held her jaw. “Did he kiss you like this?” He claimed her lips again.
“No.” Candice sobbed. “Don’t. Not like this.”
Jack froze, eyes squeezed painfully closed, his big body rigid. She felt him fighting with himself, felt him begin to relax, felt his hands slide up her arms. Their gazes met, and the agony in her own heart was clearly mirrored in his eyes. “Don’t cry,shijii,”he said, his voice husky. “I’m sorry.” He kissed her, slowly and sensually, and she could feel him trembling with the restraint of his pent-up passion.
“Don’t leave me again, Jack,” she said, tears streaking down her cheeks.
He groaned and his arms went around her. “Darling.” He kissed her again, this time with urgency, and she opened to him, just as urgently.
After a long time he lay her on the bed and began removing his clothes. She stared at the necklace of turquoise and silver lying on his broad, muscled chest. Need for him rose up in her, swelling her painfully. It pounded through her veins. It throbbed in every pore. “Oh, Jack.”
