Victoria Thompson: Texas Blonde

From time to time, Josh looked down at his passenger. She was sound asleep, sleep she sorely needed, judging from the purple smudges beneath her eyes. She murmured something and shifted slightly, and he knew she must be dreaming. Telling himself that he was only trying to comfort her, he cradled her more closely, and tried not to notice how good her body felt pressed up against his.

Josh drew a shaky breath and struggled to concentrate on something else. He'd been without a woman for too long, that's all it was, he decided. Why else would he be having such lustful thoughts over this poor, helpless creature? He hadn't had any trouble at all before the flood, when he'd thought she was a child. She was still the same person with the same body. He should be able to hold her just as dispassionately as before.

But he couldn't, he admitted reluctantly. It had just been too long. He guessed he was a fool not to take what the buxom Mrs. Delano offered. Any other man in his position would have, and gladly, too. Of course, Josh knew that there was a price attached to Blanche Delano's favors, and that price included marriage. Josh Logan simply did not want to get married.

Or at least he never had before. For some reason the idea suddenly did not seem quite so distasteful. He was, as he had admitted a little while ago, alone in the world, as alone as the girl he held in his arms. He recalled the protective, almost fatherly, feeling he had experienced earlier when he thought her a child. He had enjoyed that feeling and could not help wondering how it would be to hold his own child.

Memories of him and his father enjoying moments of companionship teased at him. Along with them came the security of knowing his father had cared for him enough to preserve the land he loved, the land that was his heritage. But whose heritage was it now? If Josh had no children, what would become of this ranch when he was gone? The question disturbed him.

Of course, to have children meant having a wife, something Josh had studiously avoided all his adult life. Maybe, just maybe, he had been wrong to do so. Maybe he should now consider marriage. He wasn't getting any younger. If he wanted to see his own son grown and settled, he would have to get started soon.

Unfortunately, the only available woman around who didn't completely repulse him was Blanche Delano. A man could do worse-a whole lot worse-but Blanche Delano was simply not the woman he wanted. How odd, Josh thought. He knew exactly what he did not want but did not have a clue as to what he did want in a woman. He supposed he would have to give the matter some more serious consideration.

Meanwhile, he thought, shifting the girl he held to a slightly less intimate position, he should make a trip to San Antone and ease himself at one of the bawdy houses there before he found himself tempted beyond endurance.

The girl in his arms stirred again, shifting her small breasts against his chest, and Josh inhaled the fresh, clean scent of her rain-washed body. San Antonio suddenly seemed very far away.

The trip that had taken two hours going out took almost three coming back, but at last the ranch buildings materialized out of the murky dimness that surrounded them. The full fury of the storm had blown itself out, and the rain had settled into a steady downpour. Grady and Cody were also sharing a slicker, but no one was more grateful to reach the ranch than Josh.

"We're here," he said, shaking the girl a little to rouse her. He did not relinquish his hold on her as he threw one leg over the saddle to slide down to the ground.

The movement jarred her awake. Momentarily disoriented, Felicity glanced around, getting a vague impression of ranch buildings and a large, substantial-looking house before her gaze came to rest on Mr. Logan's face. All her old fears came surging back. This man was taking her to his house. What would he do to her? Was he the one who had been following her? Her sleep-fogged brain stumbled over the questions, but before she could find any answers, Mr. Logan's shout startled her.

"Candace! Come see what we've brought you!" he called loudly enough to be heard above the downpour.

Candace. Of course. Felicity had forgotten that Mr. Logan's wife would take care of her. Her fears began to ebb again.

"Land sakes! What have you got there?" a woman's voice demanded, and Felicity looked up at the strangest person she had ever beheld.

Candace was glaring down at the three men mounting the porch steps. Glaring down came easily for her since she stood almost six feet tall. Her high-breasted body was slender and regal and her beautiful ebony face unlined, even though gray now threaded her glossy black curls. Clearly, her African forebearers had been a noble race, and her direct ancestors must surely have been chieftains. The queen of Ethiopia, Felicity thought wildly. "It's the girl I told you about," Cody was saying, his voice cracking with excitement. "Nobody believed me, but now they will," he added triumphantly.

"What are you doing, bringing a girl here, Joshua Logan?" Candace asked angrily. "You should take her to Miz Delano. That's the proper place."

"Blanche is in Dallas for at least another week," Josh explained testily, "and in case you hadn't noticed, it's raining." He really did not need a lesson in etiquette from his former mammy, especially when he was wet and cold and tired. He knew only too well that a Negro servant could not properly chaperone a white girl. Although no one who knew Candace would ever classify her as a servant, the fact remained that she fit no other description.

Sensing his irritation, Candace softened immediately. "Well, if Miz Delano is out of town," she mumbled as Josh approached carrying the girl. "Let's see what you've got there." She pulled back the edge of the slicker to get a better look at Felicity.

Felicity stared at the black woman in astonishment. She had met many Negroes in her life, but she had never heard one chastise a white person. The formidable Candace reached out a work-worn hand to brush the dripping hair back from Felicity's forehead and test for fever. Too proud to flinch, Felicity met her concerned gaze steadily.

"Poor little thing, she's half-drowned!" Candace exclaimed. "Get her inside. We'll put her in the yellow room."

Candace started issuing rapid-fire orders, and before Felicity could even think, the ranch cook had been commissioned to prepare her something to eat, and Grady and Cody were sent off to haul hot water for her bath.

As Mr. Logan carried her into the house, Candace whipped the dripping slicker off over their heads and disposed of it. For one awful moment, Felicity almost cried out a protest, feeling suddenly exposed, but she managed to bite back her words just in time. She was being completely ridiculous. She was fully clothed beneath the covering of the slicker. How silly to have such an odd sensation.

But once inside the shelter of the house, with the storm only a gentle patter against the tile roof and the thick adobe walls, she realized what had caused the uncomfortable sensation. Mr. Logan was still carrying her, still holding her tightly against his chest, and she still clung to him as if her life depended on it. Without the danger that made such behavior necessary, Felicity became acutely aware of how intimate, how unseemly, was her position. White hair or not, Mr. Logan was a man, and she was a woman. Felicity blushed hotly, especially when she realized that she had no desire to be put down.

Mr. Logan carried her across the front room, an enormous place with beamed ceiling and a stone fireplace and comfortable leather-upholstered furnishings, and on through a door which opened into a smaller room. Felicity's eyes widened as she glanced around the prettiest bedroom she had ever seen. The whole place was done in yellow- yellow walls, a yellow rug, and a quilt pieced in shades of gold covering the bed. Yellow curtains hung at the window, hiding the drops that still beat mercilessly against the glass outside.