The thought of seeing Kell had her brimming with excitement and a little fear. Somehow she would find a way to deal with the man’s refusal to make a commitment. He had to feel something more than desire, there had been tenderness between them.
It was only when she went to scoop up Dewberry that she spied the stain on the quilt. Her eagerness to see Kell all but disappeared. Her hand faltered on the cat, who licked her fingers in the hopes of more petting.
“What have I done, Dewberry?”
Her hand moved of its own volition to her waist. What if she had conceived a child last night? Shaking, Annie felt a cold sweat break over her. She had never thought to ask the doves how to protect herself.
The thumping of Aunt Hortense’s cane warned her she could not linger a moment longer. She lifted a protesting cat and settled him in the crook of one arm, flipping over the edge of the quilt to cover the stain with her free hand.
Somehow she had to find a way to talk to Kell about this. She refused to let the worry already gnawing at her be her responsibility alone.
All thoughts of being a freethinking, independent woman fled her mind, just as Annie fled her room. What would she do if he refused to marry her? But how could she think of marriage to a man who opposed everything she believed in?
Halfway down the stairs, Annie realized that the small crowd gathered below had fallen silent when they saw her. She set the cat down, and he, coward that he was, ran across the lobby and disappeared through the dining room.
“Annie,” Lucinda demanded, coming to stand at the foot of the stairs, “you must do something about those women.”
“That’s right,” several others chorused. “Make them leave.”
Bewildered, Annie looked from one to the other, her gaze searching every face turned toward her. Abigail’s pursed lips, Velma’s frown, Ruth McQuary’s impotent fury, all brought a groan of despair from her.
“A moment, ladies,” she pleaded, forcing herself down the stairs. But as she took the last step, they converged on her, all talking at once.
Pressing her fingers to aching temples, Annie heard the shrill rise of their voices, and that of the others closing in on her.
“Quiet!” she yelled, as startled by her shout as the women, who obeyed instantly. “One, and only one, of you tell me what has happened now.”
Glances were exchanged, and while Annie had expected Lucinda or Abigail to come forth, it was Ruth who spoke to her. Annie couldn’t meet Ruth’s eyes that reminded her of apple seeds. The dark, small eyes set in a face that was near to the same slightly yellowed shade as apple flesh held a warning gleam. With her feathered and flower-laced hat bobbing up and down so that Annie reared back to avoid having her eyes poked, Ruth began.
“I was the first to arrive this morning. Your parlor is full of those awful women. We want them gone, Annie. We agree that we will not worship in the same room with those shameful creatures.”
As if to underscore her announcement, chords were struck on the piano, all bass and sounding like a death knell. Annie shot a look at the closed parlor doors, knowing that Pockets must be in there, for a sweeter tune now seeped into the lobby.
‘This is all your fault, Annie. You made those women welcome in your home. How could you think to do this to us?” Velma stated, satisfied with the instant agreement that arose.
Keeping her voice low, both to aid her pounding head and to keep the doves from overhearing her, Annie said, “Last week I spoke to you about showing these women a better way. You have done nothing to contribute to my effort. You condemn them without knowing them, without making any attempt to know them. How can you claim to come to worship the Lord here, or anywhere, when there isn’t a Christian soul among you?”
“Annie! We are your friends,” Lucinda exclaimed.
“Then support me,” Annie countered.
“You haven’t seen them. They are a disgrace to every decent woman here. Dressed in their devil’s gowns!” Ruth shouted. “Go on and look for yourself, Annie Muldoon. Go see and then come out here and tell us that we shouldn’t be affronted by them.”
“They are painted, Annie,” someone shouted behind her as she slowly made her way to the parlor doors.
“Either they leave or we do,” Abner Duffner announced, meeting the look Annie shot over her shoulder at him with a warning glare.
Herman Lockwood, thin and balding, spoke up. “Annie, we care a great deal about you. Especially in the light of you having no menfolk to look after you. Listen to my wife, listen to our good ladies. You don’t know the tales I’ve heard about that man. They aren’t fitting for a lady’s ears, so I won’t be repeating them, but I heard them from someone who would know.”
Backed against the doors, holding tight to the handles as she faced them, Annie noted the disappointment on a few faces when Herman stopped. The words she could have easily spoken yesterday stuck in her throat. She was afraid to defend Kell, afraid of what she would reveal about her own feelings. And they were confused at best right now.
The only thing she was clear about was the anger that flared inside her for the small-minded judgments these people were making.
“I can’t force any of you to stay. I can’t say I’ll order these women to leave, either. Each of you has a choice to make, but if you leave me now, don’t bother coming back. I told you why I rented the rooms to them. You all shared my dream of building a real church here with a minister of our own to hold services. If you can lose sight of that, we have nothing more to say to each other.”
Ruth sobbed above the shocked silence and turned to her husband’s arms. Annie opened one of the parlor doors slightly. A quick peek inside showed her the doves sitting in the front row, all but Laine, arrayed in their finery. She had to squeeze her eyes closed against the new onslaught of pain as the pounding in her temples increased. It was indeed an array of garish finery, all bright, clashing colors.
But she was unwilling to expose the doves to more of the unwarranted hostility of her neighbors. Annie inched the door just wide enough for her to slip inside. She had almost made good her escape when the front doors banged open.
Backlit by the sun, a furious Kellian York filled the doorway, Bronc right behind him. He stood there for a few long minutes, his gaze pinning each and every one in place. Annie could see only his face, and it was shadowed by his hat brim. But with the new sensitivity the long night past had given to her, she had a sickening feeling that his appearance boded ill for her.
When Kell finally moved, he looked at no one, spoke not a word, but strode through the path made for him straight to Annie.
“You can’t deny it any longer. Someone is sabotaging my every effort to rebuild. What’s more, you know who it is.”
“No.”
“Bronc, don’t let anyone leave. I want them all to see this.”
Annie couldn’t tear her gaze from him. He was wearing the linen shirt she had mended, the same one he had had on the night of the fire. Despite the fury coming off him in waves, despite the fact that they weren’t alone, she couldn’t control the shiver of sensual awareness in her lover’s presence.
She didn’t even notice what he was carrying until he set it down in front of her with a bang. She looked from his booted foot on the top of a small keg up to his eyes.
“Do you know what the hell happened last night?”
“Kell?” Annie swallowed, unable to force another sound, much less a word, past her lips. The eyes that met hers were not heated with a lover’s passion. They weren’t even warm. His gaze was the same winter sage green that had chilled her the first time he had broken into her room. She wanted to cringe and hide from every avid gaze that targeted them. How could he ask her such a question?
How dare he ask her such a question? Anger surged and took over the bewilderment she felt, for this was not the greeting she had expected from him. She rather ruthlessly disposed of the hurt his words caused. Courage might be in short supply, but any
woman could dig deep enough and find enough to cope with a man.
“I have no idea what you are asking, Mr. York.”
Kell thumbed back his hat. “Don’t you, Muldoon?”
Courage, Annie. Don’t give him the satisfaction of seeing how much that hurt. Most especially in front of witnesses.
“I asked,” he repeated with exaggerated patience, “if you knew what happened last night, Muldoon?”
“I answered you. No. I don’t know what happened. No, I don’t care what happened.” Leaning closer, Annie whispered, “Muldoon? You dare to call me that now?” She was too furious to care who knew it.
“I’ll call you that and more. This nail keg is one of four that have been filled with glue. Useless to me. And not only were my nails ruined, but a stack of lumber was soaked with kerosene. Figured to have more than one fire going at a time, Muldoon?”
“You crude, immoral, arrogant … arrogant man!”
Annie was shouting in his face. She didn’t realize that she’d gotten as close as she could until the door hit her rump and only Kell’s arms stopped her from falling.
“Annie Charlotte! I’ve heard enough,” Hortense announced, pushing through the door. “I’ve sat inside and heard yelling. Now, I hear you raving about gales and flues. What is happening?”
“Not gales. Mr. York’s nails have been glued,” she answered, shoving free of Kell’s hold and brushing off her skirt. Annie stepped to the side to allow her aunt room, only to raise her eyes to the ceiling when the doves and Pockets, even Fawn, crowded behind her.
“I remember Velma’s boy came to clean the flues in the spring. The oldest—”
“York? Mr. York? How can you call me that?” Kell demanded of Annie, yelling to be heard over Hortense’s rising voice.
“And my boy did a fine job,” Velma said in defense of her son.
“What makes you think any of us did this damage to your nails?” Abner asked Kell.
“I’ll call you Mr. York if you can call me Muldoon!”
“Yeah?”
Nose to nose with Kell, Annie threw up her hands. “Yes! And what’s more, if you don’t like it, I won’t even speak to you.”
Annie spun on her heels to make a grand exit; unfortunately there was no room to move. Kell’s grip on her arm sent her gaze down to his hand, while her chest heaved with indignation. “Take your hand off me!”
“You didn’t seem to mind them all over—Christ, Annie, I didn’t mean—”
She slapped him. Kell didn’t know who was more surprised, him or Annie. The rest he ignored. His grip on her arm tightened.
“Aunt Hortense,” he began.
“Aunt? Since when did you give him permission to call you—”
“Since he asked,” Hortense answered, using her cane to make room. “I do believe the front parlor would serve us better for a little talk. The rest of you may go. There will be no service this morning. There may never be another one held within these walls.”
Annie gaped at her aunt. She was smiling at that bounder. Smiling at him! Taking the arm he offered to escort her into the front parlor while she stood there.
Fine. Let Aunt Hortense deal with him. And let Kellian York scream himself hoarse trying to explain everything to her. She had had enough!
Her escape lasted for two short steps before Kell’s grip on her arm brought her up short. With a quick, twisting turn, he had her at his side.
“Come along, Annie Charlotte. Aunt Hortense wishes to talk to us.”
Wishing she could faint, for if ever a woman had good cause Annie thought she did, she nevertheless went along with him. It wasn’t until they were inside and he had locked the door that he released her.
Annie made a great deal of rubbing her arm and finding the chair furthest from the settee where Kell settled himself.
“I really don’t care to hear anything he has to say.”
“That’s enough, girl.”
“Listen to your elders, Annie—”
“And that’s quite enough out of you, young man. You’ve a bit to answer for and don’t think I’ll forget about it.”
“Before we begin,” Kell said, his gaze coming to rest on Annie, “I would like to apologize for offending you. I was angry—”
“You are furious,” Annie cut in.
“Right you are. I’m furious that someone ruined the wood and the nails to slow down the building. You’ve got to have some of idea who it was.”
“I told you before, I don’t. You keep insisting that one of those women here this morning would do it and I refuse to believe that.”
“Annie, I didn’t put glue in the nail kegs. It’s real. I didn’t spill kerosene on the wood. I’m only thankful that if someone came along and stopped it from being set on fire, I found out before that wood was used.”
“These are serious attempts to stop you, then?” Hortense asked from her chair at Kell’s side.
“Serious enough to put someone’s life at risk. If one of the carpenters smoked while he worked near the wood—”
“Yes,” Hortense said, interrupting him. “There is no need to explain further.” She turned to her niece. “I know you wouldn’t protect someone at the risk of anyone’s life.”
“No, Aunt, I wouldn’t.”
Hortense looked at Kell. “Why don’t you tell me everything that has happened since the night of the fire? But I caution you to remember my health and my age, young man. No need to swear.”
Somewhat mollified by his apology, Annie sat and listened as Kell told her aunt everything that he knew, from the wagon of whiskey being diverted and its return to other small incidents that Annie had not known about. When he told about the runway horse that nearly took the child’s life and what he found, Annie couldn’t keep quiet.
“A needle was stuck in the harness?” she cried.
“That’s right, Annie. There were four or five women near the dress shop that day. They were close enough to—”
“No! I refuse to believe this. Aunt Hortense, tell him. He doesn’t know our friends. Not one of those women would do such a thing.”
“Annie,” Kell said before Hortense could answer, “I take no pleasure in telling you this. But you keep denying what’s true. One of the good ladies of this town is trying to get ride of me.”
“Annie, dear, listen to him. Would a man have stolen your cap and left it near the fire? Would a man have need to disguise himself to get rid of the whiskey?”
“Well, if it was Abner or Alan McQuary or even Herman—”
“No, dearest. You’re wrong. I’m afraid that I agree with Kellian. What I don’t understand is why any woman would go to such lengths to prevent you from rebuilding. Not that I approve of the way you intend to earn your living,” she said to Kell, banging her cane on the floor for emphasis.
“Mr. York doesn’t need or want your approval, Aunt. He doesn’t think what he does is sinful.”
Kell felt the grate of Annie’s prissed-up voice on each of his nerve endings. Last night she had been all sweet, soft whisperings, and this morning she made a return to Miss Starch and Vinegar. Scorched, indeed. He liked being audacious and wicked. Annie could take her Miss Morals and high ideals with all her proper sterling qualities and … and bring them back to his bed anytime. Kell jerked himself upright, blinking and rubbing his hand over his face. He cleared his throat, scowling at the thoughts that filled his head. It was the redheaded petunia’s fault.
He combed back his collar-length hair, shooting a resentful glare at Annie. She had him running scared. The fire that left his inheritance a smoldering ruin was a match-size blaze compared to the desire he felt for her. And he the fool who had to prove she couldn’t tame wildness and stop his pleasure. No, he had to teach her about finding pleasure and free the wild, sweet body and every bit of passion that she hid beneath layers of clothing.
“I must say that your sober contemplation is heartening. Dare I believe there is hope yo
u are reflecting on a change of your stubborn insistence to rebuild that den of iniquity?”
“No, Annie Muldoon, you most certainly may not. My brother wanted me to have the Silken Aces, and have it I will in spite of every damn—your pardon, Aunt Hortense—obstacle in my way.”
“Young man, you know it is wrong to earn money from selling the flesh of others. We fought a war—”
“I’ve never taken a half-dime from the doves. But no one can expect me to kick them out.”
“It’s true, Aunt.” Annie didn’t know who was more surprised; her aunt, Kell, or herself.
“Thank you for your support,” Kell said, unable to stop the hard, mocking edge in his voice. “If you can believe that, then why don’t you believe that one of those women is capable of attempted murder?”
Annie bit her bottom lip, shaking her head. She sent a pleading look toward her aunt, but she was watching Kell. “It would destroy me to believe it,” she answered finally with innate honesty. “But there is someone else you have never accused. Laine.”
“Is that the shameless hussy chasing you, Kellian?”
“Aunt Hortense!”
“Don’t ‘Aunt Hortense’ me, Annie Charlotte. I’ve seen that one switching her tail whenever she’s near him. She’s the one that brought those doves here. Kyle didn’t.”
“How did you know, Aunt?” Annie couldn’t look at Kell, so afraid she would see that wicked, smug look he sometimes wore.
“Oh, I might surprise you, dear, by all that I know that goes on, not only in town,” she said, with a sly glance that went from her niece to Kell. “Yes, indeed, I keep apprized of all the doings in my boardinghouse as well.”
While Annie felt the heat that had to be coloring her cheeks, she looked on in amazement when a flush tinted Kell’s high cheekbones.
He cleared his throat again, leaning forward with his hands folded between his spread legs and stared at the floor. “Can we get back to the problem at hand?”
“Yes,” Annie agreed quickly, “by all means, let’s. I asked you if it were possible that Laine could be behind this. I’ve heard that she thought your brother would have left the property to her.”
Darling Annie Page 24
