Sweet Laurel

by Millie Criswell

  “Hello, Chance,” she said, wondering if that breathy sound was her own voice.

  Thrusting the bedraggled-looking flowers at her, Chance swallowed past the lump still lodged in his throat. “You’re looking lovely as ever, angel.”

  An awkward silence followed, then Crystal laughed to break the tension and reached for her coat. “Well, three’s a crowd, as they say. I guess I’ll be heading back to the Aurora now. Gus is expecting me to have dinner with him this evening.”

  “Thanks for everything, Crystal. You’re a good friend.”

  The two women stared meaningfully at each other, and Laurel’s heartfelt gaze brought tears to a woman who hadn’t shed them in years. “Take good care of her, Chance,” Crystal whispered before disappearing out the door.

  “Do I dare ask what that was all about? You two look as solemn as mourners at a funeral. Surely you can’t be that sorry to see me, angel?” Grinning, he winked, and her heart flip-flopped.

  The old Chance was back, and for some reason, Laurel found that knowledge comforting. “Not everything revolves around you, Mr. Rafferty. Would you care for some tea or hot chocolate?” she asked, offering him a seat. “I’m afraid we don’t have anything stronger around here.”

  Chance remained standing. “I don’t need liquor when I’m around you, angel.”

  His compliment brought a teasing smile to her lips. “Does that mean you’re planning to shut down the Aurora? Hortensia will be pleased.”

  “I didn’t come here to discuss business—mine or yours. That just seems to get us into disagreements.”

  “Then what did you come for?” she asked, sniffing the bouquet, pleased by the thoughtful gesture. “The flowers are lovely.”

  Not nearly as lovely as you, angel. “I came to apologize for everything that’s happened between us.”

  “Everything?”

  “I’ll never be sorry for that, angel,” he admitted, and a warm feeling infused her entire being.

  “Neither will I.”

  He reached for her hand and engulfed it in his own, accepting her statement as one of forgiveness. “I was wondering if you’d like to take a walk with me to see the new church I’ve been building for Gus and his flock. It’s almost completed, and I thought you might like to see what we’ve done.”

  She would dearly love to see the new church. But what if she had one of her queasy spells while she was out? How would she explain that to Chance without alerting him to her condition? She chewed her lower lip for a moment, then replied, “I’d love to. But I must warn you that I’ve been under the weather lately. A bit of the influenza, I’m afraid. I still might be contagious.”

  He stepped closer, until she could feel his warm breath on her face. “Is this something that can be caught from kissing? Because if it is, I’m willing to die for it.” Removing the bouquet from her hand, he tossed it onto a nearby chair, bringing her close to his chest. “I’ve missed you, angel. More than you’ll ever know.” More than he’d ever realized was possible.

  She buried her face against his sheepskin jacket, reveling in the familiar masculine scents of tobacco and aftershave lotion. It felt so right to be in his arms; it felt like coming home. “I’ve missed you, too.”

  He kissed her then, a long, slow, thoughtful kiss that made her toes curl heavenward. A kiss that sang through her veins like the finest aria from a Puccini opera. A kiss that said “forever” and made her hope for things that might be.

  Caught in the rapture of their embrace, they didn’t hear the front door open, but they did hear the outraged gasp. Breaking apart at once, Laurel’s heart, which had been soaring high, suddenly plummeted to her feet.

  Drucilla stood there, her lips puckered as if she’d been sucking a tart lemon. “Miss Tungsten will surely hear about this, Laurel. And she’s not going to be pleased by your vile actions.”

  Chance took a menacing step toward the dour-faced woman, whose eyes widened in fear, but Laurel held him back. “Nothing you can do or say is going to deter Drucilla from having her revenge.”

  Drucilla’s hatred was palpable, but Laurel ignored it saying, “Why don’t you run along and tattle, Drucilla? It’s what you do best.”

  As soon as the vindictive woman had stalked out of the room, Laurel reached for her coat. “If we’re going to leave, we’d best do it now, before anyone else returns. I’m afraid Drucilla is going to make things difficult for me when Hortensia gets back from her meeting.”

  “Angel, why don’t you . . .” At the look of misery on Laurel’s face, Chance bit back his retort. Arguing about Laurel’s leaving the league wouldn’t serve any purpose now, and would just drive another wedge between them. “Why don’t you fetch your scarf,” he said instead. “It’s cold outside.”

  * * *

  Neither the biting February wind nor the muddy streets beneath her feet could dampen Laurel’s spirits as they traversed the short distance to Reverend Baldwin’s new church. Though the sun shone brightly, the air was wretchedly cold. But there was a warmth in her heart that no freezing temperature could dispel.

  For the first time in weeks, Laurel felt free; unencumbered by difficulties. No obstacle seemed too big to overcome with Chance by her side, and she squeezed his hand to communicate her joy.

  He looked down at her and smiled. “Are you cold? I guess I should have rented a buggy, but we’re almost there.”

  “Don’t be silly. I love to walk. And besides, the streets are congested enough without adding another conveyance to them.” Every day seemed to bring new arrivals to the bustling metropolis known as the Queen City of the Plains.

  Folks looking to make a new start, or to strike it rich with the lure of silver, flocked to Denver by the hundreds. Gold had founded Denver, but it was silver that had laid the foundation for wealth and culture in the frontier town. The population was expanding at an astounding rate. One had only to look at the city’s skyline to see the multitude of church spires rising to the heavens to greet the throngs of new worshipers. For a city steeped in sinners, Denver had its share of pious Christians, too.

  It was an odd mixture, much like Gus Baldwin’s congregation of miscreants and misfits who sought the word of the Lord by day and the rattle of the roulette wheel by night.

  “Well, here we are. What do you think?” Chance asked with pride in his voice.

  Laurel stared in awe at the imposing, nearly completed brick structure. As churches went, this one was first-rate, and she told Chance so. “You should be prouder than a peacock, Mr. Rafferty. This is a splendid example of what caring people can accomplish in a short amount of time.”

  He shuffled his feet, embarrassed by the compliment. “I had help. Lots of it.”

  She squeezed his arm. “Can we go inside? I’m dying to see what it looks like. Gus must be bursting at the seams with excitement.”

  With his hand resting on the brass doorknob, Chance’s face grew solemn. “He cried, Laurel. The day we completed the exterior of the building Gus cried like a baby.” Chance had been at a loss for words that day, and Gus’s emotional outburst had nearly brought tears to his own eyes. Good grief! He was becoming as dotty as an old woman, he thought.

  “There’s no shame in a man’s tears. Especially a man as fine as Augustus Baldwin. Some people feel things more deeply than others, and aren’t afraid to express their emotions.”

  Chance wasn’t certain if her remark was directed at him, but he felt his cheeks color anyway. “Yeah, well . . . This is the new church,” he said, pushing open the door.

  The scent of freshly cut pine whirled about her as Laurel stepped into the vestibule. The floors had been sanded as smooth as a baby’s behind, and the twenty rows of pews, ten on each side, were painted white, as were the pristine plastered walls.

  A great deal of hard work had gone into the construction of the building, and Laurel could see Chance’s fine hand in the exquisite stained glass windows, which filtered the sunlight into ribbons of subdued color.

  “I�
�m so impressed,” she said, reaching for his hand and kissing it in an emotional display of affection. “You’ve done a marvelous job. I’m so proud of you.”

  Her praise touched him as nothing else could have. No one, except for Gus, had ever thought to applaud him for his deeds. It was a good feeling to be recognized for one’s efforts, especially when those efforts didn’t center around a card table.

  “It was just something that needed doing,” he replied with a shrug.

  “Is there no heat?” Though warmer than outside, the church was still chilly, and Laurel shivered, rubbing her arms to warm herself.

  Chance shook his head. “Not yet. The coal-burning furnace I’ve ordered from San Francisco hasn’t arrived. But we did install a wood stove in Gus’s office, so he can continue to work. Would you like to go in there where it’s warm?”

  They moved down the aisle toward the front of the church, and Laurel envisioned them walking down the same aisle at their wedding. She’d be wearing a beautiful white satin gown adorned with hundreds of tiny seed pearls and a veil so long it would touch the rose petals at her feet. Chance would be decked out in impeccably tailored black formal wear, looking handsome, dashing, and incredibly Prince Charming–like. She sighed wistfully at the fanciful image.

  “That secretive smile on your face has me wondering, angel, what could be so darned appealing about a church.”

  “Is this the door to Gus’s office?” she asked hurriedly, pointing to the door on the left and purposely ignoring his comment.

  They entered to find the wood stove emanating warmth from the fire Gus had laid earlier in the day, and Laurel rushed toward it, rubbing her hands together. “We’re saved!” she said, laughing. “I think the cold’s gone clean through to my bones. I know it gets as cold as this in Salina, but right now I can’t remember when.” The intense look in Chance’s eyes made her blood much warmer than the heat coming from the stove.

  “There’s nothing like shared heat to warm a body up,” he said, stepping closer, and there was a husky, earthy sensuality to his voice that made goose flesh rise on her arms. “I’ll warm you up, angel, if you’ll let me.” He held out his arms, and she rushed into them, praying with all her heart and soul that he would finally declare himself.

  “I’ve missed you so much, Chance. And I’m sorry for slapping you that day.”

  “Ssh,” he said, kissing her lips as his hands moved to unbutton her coat. “That’s all in the past. We’ll start again.”

  Yes, she thought. Let there be a new beginning for us and for the child growing within me. “I know this sounds terribly sacrilegious, and I’ll probably be struck down for saying it, but I want to make love with you.”

  His surprise lasted only a moment, and then he grinned. “You took the words right out of my mouth, angel.”

  The sun had gone down, casting the small room into shadows of darkness, and Chance lit the kerosene lamp Gus kept on his desk. “I want to see you when we make love. I want to look into your eyes and see your passion and your pleasure.”

  She caressed his cheek with great tenderness. “If you look hard enough, Chance, you’ll see something else. You’ll see the love I have for you shining from my heart.”

  “Angel . . .”

  Scooping her into his arms, he carried her to the small bed in the corner, which Gus often used when his illness got the better of him, and began to undress her. It took only moments to remove her clothing, but to Chance, who had dreamed of this so often, it seemed an eternity.

  When they were both naked, he lowered himself to the bed and drew Laurel into his arms. “I think it’s fitting that we make love in a church, because you’re most certainly an angel that God has seen fit to send me.” With that heartfelt declaration, Chance covered Laurel’s lips hungrily, tasting and devouring the honeyed sweetness of her mouth.

  His words, his kiss, set Laurel’s blood rushing through her veins; everywhere Chance touched, her skin burned with exquisite heat. She wanted to melt into him, be one with him, be part of his life forever.

  “God, Laurel, I can’t wait to have you,” he whispered, moving his hand down to cup her womanly place, pleased to find her wet and ready for him. Closing his lips around her turgid nipple, he suckled, first one breast and then the other, reveling in her soft moans of pleasure. “You’re so sweet, angel. I’ve never known anyone like you before.”

  Laurel reached down to find his member hard and waiting, and she stroked it, guiding it to her entrance. “Take me,” she whispered. “I need you so.”

  With one hard thrust he entered, and she cried out her ecstasy as her body welcomed, reveled, ignited.

  Their joining was like putting flame to dynamite. The reaction was instantaneous and explosive. A choir of bells rang in Laurel’s ears as she reached her climax and felt Chance’s seed spill into her.

  “Angel . . . angel . . . angel . . .” He chanted her nickname like a litany, kissing her fiercely, possessively. “I love you, angel.”

  Laurel’s heart soared, and tears blinded her vision. “Oh, Chance! You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear you say that.”

  Still deep inside her, he brushed the hair from her forehead, placing tender kisses on her nose and chin. “How could you not know? You’ve made me crazier than any sane man should be. You’ve turned my orderly life upside down.” He smiled widely. “And the worst part is that you’ve turned a perfectly good gambler into a do-gooder. You’ve ruined my reputation.”

  Chance’s mock outrage made Laurel smile, and she wrapped her arms about his middle, hugging him close, and felt the awakening effects of his response. “You’re hardly respectable, Mr. Rafferty. No respectable man is capable of performing quite so readily.”

  He arched one eyebrow. “And how would you know that, Miss Martin? I thought I was your one and only.”

  She pulled him down and kissed him hard. “You are. But have you forgotten that I’ve had the benefit of some very excellent and experienced tutors in Crystal and Flora Sue?”

  He rolled his eyes, then gave her a wildly erotic smile. “Let’s see just how much you’ve learned, angel.”

  An hour later, dressed and basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking, Laurel and Chance stood before the altar, their arms wrapped about each other.

  “You’ve made me very happy, angel.”

  She heaved a sigh of pure contentment. “As you have made me.” She still couldn’t quite believe that he loved her. But Chance had said the words over and over again.

  “I guess we’ve christened Gus’s new church pretty good.”

  “Chance! You’ll be struck down if you make any more comments like that.”

  “Probably. But I’ll die a happy man.” He tweaked her nose and laughed.

  Her eyes sparkling with happiness, her voice filled with enthusiasm, she said, “Just think, Chance, we can be the first couple to be married in this church. We can ask Gus to perform the ceremony. We can—” She stopped abruptly at the horrified expression on his face. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “I never said we were getting married, angel.”

  “But . . . You told me you loved me. Naturally, I assumed . . .”

  “Laurel, don’t you see? A marriage between us would never work.”

  “Why not? We love each other.”

  “I’m not the kind of man who’d be content to settle down to a mundane kind of life, to be the kind of husband you need. I’m a gambler, for chrissake! I live above a saloon. And who knows how long I’ll be able to hold on to that. Business isn’t exactly booming.”

  He didn’t mention the temperance league, but the implication was there just the same. “If I don’t object to your line of work, why should you?”

  “Practicalities aside, angel, I’ve always believed that marriage is a death sentence. It destroys whatever’s good between two people. I saw it happen to my aunt and uncle. I don’t want to lose what we have.”

  Disappointment and fear clutched at Laurel. Disapp
ointment at Chance’s reluctance to wed her, and fear for the future of her unborn child. If he didn’t wed her, the baby would be a bastard. She could tell him about the child she carried, force him into a marriage of necessity, but her heart told her that would be wrong.

  “Just because your aunt and uncle didn’t get along doesn’t mean we won’t. I love you, Chance; you love me. As long as there’s love between us, nothing else matters.”

  He shook his head at her naïveté. “That’s just a fairy tale, Laurel. A pretty dream that has nothing to do with reality. Marriage has a way of bringing out the worst in people. I’ve seen it happen all too often.”

  “My parents were very happily married,” she countered. “And look at Bertha and Jup. You couldn’t ask for a more devoted couple.” She clutched his arm. “Don’t let your fears destroy our happiness, Chance. I want to be with you always, bear your children, be your wife.”

  The tears in her eyes were ripping his guts to shreds. “I love you, Laurel. Isn’t that enough? We can continue to be together. You’ll move in with me. Nothing has to change.”

  “We can’t have a relationship worth anything without commitment, Chance. Don’t you realize that? I can’t move in with you without the benefit of marriage, like some whore or kept woman. How could you even think I would?”

  Her stubbornness annoyed him. “Aren’t you being hypocritical, angel? Some of your best friends are whores. Some of the kindest, most caring women I know have walked the line a time or two. At least whores are honest and don’t make demands on a man.”

  Laurel’s face crimsoned. “Like Pearl?”

  “I told you before, there was never anything between me and Pearl. We had a brief encounter that meant nothing to me. It was sex, pure and simple.”

  “Is that what we’ll end up having, Chance? A brief encounter? Sex, pure and simple? I want more than that. I want a lifetime of love and happily-ever-after.”

  “I can give you the love, angel. But that’s all I can give. I hope it’ll be enough.”