Clutching her hands together, she tried to fashion a reply. But her mind went blank as he plucked a suit jacket from the back of a chair.
After slipping it on, he smoothed the fabric along his chest. If anything, he stood even taller. Right there on the expensive Aubusson rug, under a gilded chandelier and surrounded by dark ruby-colored curtains and wallpaper. He was a man used to being in charge. A man used to making decisions and commanding an audience.
For the first time since she’d arrived, his voice adopted a thread of impatience. “I am waiting for a response, miss.”
Tell him, she cautioned herself. It isn’t as if you have anything to gain by keeping your silence. There’s no way you’re going to have an ounce of pride left after this experience anyway. “I was, well, cleaning a guest’s room when he returned unexpectedly.”
“What happened then?”
How could she tell him she’d been so afraid? How could she when she was standing right here in the same room with the man? What was the difference between what was happening at that very moment and what had happened moments earlier? Was it because the other man was from her past?
Or was it because she didn’t fear Major Kelly?
Beyond flustered now, she hedged. “It became difficult. He didn’t want me to leave.”
“Difficult? What is that supposed to mean?”
“I was afraid.”
“Forgive me for being obtuse, miss. But am I to understand he made an untoward advance against you?”
Caught between a nod and a shrug, she kind of twitched. “Yes, sir. But it’s all right, because I—”
“It’s not all right. Nothing about that was all right.”
No, it wasn’t. But what could she say? “If you will excuse me, I’ll be on my way.”
“Not yet, if you please,” he murmured as he turned to his dresser. Methodically, he slipped that very fine gold watch into his vest pocket. Then, just as calm as you please, he sat down on the dark-gray winged chair and slipped on his fine-looking black leather boots.
All while she stood and continued to watch him.
After rubbing his thumb along a scuff in the leather, he stood. “In what room did this occur?”
She’d already said too much. “I don’t recall.”
“Come now. Let us not start lying to each other.”
Was it possible for one’s skin to become any more flushed? “All right. The truth is that I would rather you not be involved.”
“I’m already involved, though, aren’t I?”
Was he? “Yes, but—”
“So what you really mean is you do not wish me to be any further involved.”
“Yes, sir. That is what I mean.” Just to make sure she was clear, she added, “I’d rather you not become any further involved in my business, Major Kelly.”
A new, amused glint shone in his eyes. “I’m afraid it’s too late to wish for that.”
“It’s not.”
“I have to disagree.” His voice lowered into a slow, languid drawl. “Don’t forget, you’ve seen me practically naked.”
She couldn’t deny that. However, she could free herself from this travesty of a situation. She needed to leave. Just leave. Forget about asking for permission. Forget about how tarnished her reputation was going to be.
Yes. She needed to leave. Immediately.
She could go to her room and begin to make plans to start over somewhere else. New Braunfels, perhaps? Just as she reached for the glass doorknob again, a light knock sounded from the other side.
“Major Kelly, sir?” a high, shrill female voice called out. The woman followed with another series of sharp knocks.
As Lizbeth realized who was now standing on the other side of the door, she bit back a moan. She hadn’t thought her predicament could get worse. But, as with rain, heat, and war, it seemed it certainly could.
3
After the knocks came a tentative voice Lizbeth knew all too well.
“Major Kelly? Sir, I hate to disturb you, but if I might have a moment of your time?”
Lizbeth stared at the door in dismay. Aileen was on the other side. Her employer. What choice did she have but to respond?
She looked at the major, and he narrowed his eyes just as she started to turn the door’s handle. “Wait,” he said, his voice once again low.
Lizbeth cleared her throat and lowered her voice as well. “Major Kelly, I do believe my cousin is knocking at your door.”
“Cousin, is it?” A new light, one a lot like amusement, she was afraid, entered his eyes. “Is that right?”
“That is Aileen Howard. She and her husband, Dallas, manage this establishment.”
“Yes, but that still doesn’t help me understand why she is knocking so urgently.”
Lizbeth realized she did understand her cousin’s persistence. No doubt the other man had complained about her. But how did Aileen know where Lizbeth was? “I think it would be better for all of us if I went out to speak to her, sir.”
He stepped forward, bringing with him the faint scent of bay rum and soap. “Will you trust me? I can help you, if you’ll give me your trust.”
Trust him? She didn’t trust any man. Not any longer. Having no words, she shook her head.
His eyes darted to the scar on her face. A flash of concern she didn’t understand entered his eyes before he spoke more forcefully. Did he feel sorry for her? “I won’t harm you. I promise.”
But he didn’t realize promises meant nothing to her. “Beyond the fact that I know you frequently leave your clothing scattered around your room, I don’t know you, Major,” she said stiffly. “Furthermore, we both know I am none of your concern.”
“Reconsider.”
One word. The same word Bushnell had said to her minutes earlier. And just as forcibly said. Both men were used to giving commands. Even more used to being listened to.
The major wasn’t Bushnell, but she wasn’t one of his soldiers either. She was nothing to him, and he … well, though he was mannerly and polite, he still symbolized everything that had ruined her life. “I would like to leave, sir.”
“All right, then.” Motioning with his hands, he said, “Open it up, if you will, Miss Barclay. Let us see what your cousin desires.”
Desires. His choice of words took her by surprise. She pulled open the door.
Aileen was, indeed, standing on the other side. As always, she was dressed becomingly. In one hand was Lizbeth’s crate of cleaning supplies.
Lizbeth called herself three kinds the fool. In her haste, she’d put the crate on the hallway floor when she was fumbling with her keys. All the while she’d been attempting to hide, her supplies were right outside the major’s door. They had been stationed there like a beacon, practically begging for her to be found.
She glanced at the major. He had clasped his arms behind him. He looked exactly like he was—a military man standing at rest.
For a split second, all three of them remained mute. Each staring at the other two. Lizbeth could only hope what was about to happen would do so quickly.
Ethan Kelly had liked to think that after four years of war, nine months in captivity, and six months of gambling in various disreputable saloons and on riverboats, nothing could surprise him.
He had been wrong.
He was now standing with two women. One whose voice was so brittle and high it grated on his last nerve. The other? Well, she was the star of his nightmares and the cause of his shame. He was torn between wanting to shield her from the rest of the world and turning his back to her in a feeble effort to retain what remained of his soul.
Impatient with the situation, he glared at the woman who was standing in his doorway. She was dressed in a becoming cranberry-colored day dress, stockings, and some fine black kid shoes. When she turned her head to look at Lizbeth, he could see her dark-blonde hair was styled in a low chignon.
“May I help you?” he asked with obvious sarcasm.
“I’m sorry, sir. I was
looking for this maid.”
Before Ethan could say a word, Miss Barclay stepped forward. “Obviously you have found me.”
“Excuse us, sir,” Mrs. Howard said to Ethan before directing her maid into the hall. Miss Barclay went out, never looking back in his direction.
Ethan knew the right thing to do would be to close his door. He needed to come to terms with the fact that he had just seen the woman whose home he’d raided in the war. Maybe have a drink. Maybe then he could pretend it had been a strange coincidence that their paths had crossed again but no harm had been done. She had obviously survived, just as he had.
But despite his best intentions, he found himself unable to pull his attention away. The two women were close enough for him to still hear every hushed word.
“Why were you inside Major Kelly’s room?”
“It was a mistake. I was only trying to find a quiet place to collect my bearings.”
Aileen’s voice rose. “In a guest’s room?”
“I didn’t know anyone was inside.”
“It is never okay to be in a guest’s room unless you were called in to clean it. You know this.”
“I know. But—”
“I can only assume you were in there for another reason.” She folded her hands across her chest. “Perhaps you were in search of money?”
“I wasn’t stealing anything!”
Ethan couldn’t deny he had thought the very same thing. Now, though, he wasn’t even sure if he cared. Who was he to deny something to a woman who had already lost so much?
With an exaggerated sigh, Mrs. Howard said, “Lizbeth, why were you trying to get your bearings?”
“I had to get away from a man who walked into his room when I was cleaning. He … Well, it was obvious Mr. Bushnell intended to take advantage of me.”
Her voice started shaking, as though she hated even uttering his name out loud.
“Surely you were mistaken. Mr. Daniel Bushnell is a gentleman.”
Daniel Bushnell?
Ethan jerked his head around the doorframe, but the women didn’t seem to notice.
Lizbeth shook her head. He thought he could see tears glistening in her eyes. “I know what his intentions were.”
Mrs. Howard pursed her lips. “That doesn’t change the fact that you ran into another man’s room while it was occupied. This is a problem, Lizbeth. My husband … I can’t allow it. You know what a hard time Dallas and I have making sure we have decent, reputable maids of unquestionable character. If the other women found out I let you stay after this, they would think they could do the same thing.”
Lizbeth slumped. “I understand.”
“Do you? I hate to do this, Lizbeth, but you are dismissed. You can stay the night, but leave in the morning.”
After nodding, Lizbeth turned and walked down the hall. Her cousin stood motionless, watching her for a moment before visibly gathering herself.
Ethan fought the torrent of emotions that boiled up inside of him. Dismay that the woman could dismiss Miss Barclay so easily. Guilt that he had somehow played a part in her dismissal. But even more powerful than that was the biting feeling of anger that flowed through him.
Daniel Bushnell, his former colonel, his enemy, was here in the same hotel. Just as Mrs. Howard started following Lizbeth down the hall, he strode after her. “Give me his room number,” he ordered in a fierce whisper.
Aileen startled and then shook her head. “I cannot give that to you, Major.”
“Of course you can, and don’t you start telling me about privacy or reputations. I’m not some helpless girl in need of a job.”
She flushed at his jab but lifted her chin. “I don’t know what you overheard, but I really do value our customers’ privacy. We wouldn’t have any guests if I gave out room numbers.”
“You won’t have any guests if you don’t give it to me.” He hardened his voice, speaking to her in a way he hadn’t spoken to anyone since he was ordering troops to retreat on bloody battlefields. “I will make sure your business suffers, and don’t think I don’t have that amount of influence. I assure you I do.”
Mrs. Howard’s expression tightened. For a split second, Ethan was sure she was going to refuse, but then she exhaled. “He is in room 240,” she said before turning and retreating down the hall.
Back in his room, Ethan reached for his money clip on the dresser. He stopped with his arm in midair, staring at one of his gold cufflinks.
They were a gift from his father, given to him thirteen years earlier on his eighteenth birthday. That had been years before the war. Years before he’d realized he might have grown older but had never truly grown up. It had taken his first battle to do that.
Though he and his parents had had their share of rocky moments, he continued to wear the cufflinks out of respect for his father. To Ethan, they were a symbol of what his father had imagined he could one day be—someone of worth.
He grabbed his money clip, walked out of the room, locked the door behind him, and headed down the hall. What he was about to do might not seem like a sign of maturity to some. Perhaps others might even consider it shameful. Revenge was an ugly emotion. But at that moment, Ethan knew he had never been more sure about anything in his life. As far as he was concerned, the Lord had brought him, Miss Barclay, and Bushnell together for one reason and one reason only: for Ethan Kelly to make sure Daniel Bushnell firmly and completely regretted his actions.
For the first time in a long time, Ethan felt as though he was finally going to do something of worth. Few opportunities had ever felt as sweet.
4
Hello, Major Kelly,” Mrs. Sandler called out with a cheery smile as she approached on her husband’s arm.
It was difficult, but Ethan forced himself to stop and exchange pleasantries with the esteemed couple. “Good afternoon, ma’am,” he said as he offered a small bow. “You are looking as pretty as a picture.” He didn’t lie. Mrs. Sandler had hair the color of mink, violet eyes, and a truly beautiful smile. She also had a penchant for wearing rose-colored gowns that flattered both her skin tone and figure.
Her smile brightened. “Thank you. I hope you are doing well on this fine day.”
“Better, now that I have seen you,” he said with a wink.
Obviously amused by his flirtation, she turned to her husband. “Warren, you didn’t tell me the major was going to be here this week.”
Warren patted her gloved hand. “That’s because I didn’t know. Is there a tournament this week I don’t know about, Kelly?”
Warren Sandler was in his early forties and an avid poker player. Ethan had spent many hours sitting at Warren’s side, back when he’d spent most of his evenings in the gambling establishments around town. “No, sir. I just happened to be in the area for other reasons.” He didn’t see the need to mention he’d returned to San Antonio only to spend a few days at the Menger before heading to his family’s ranch.
“If you plan to dine at the hotel this evening, please do join us,” Warren said. “You can tell us how your family is faring.”
Mrs. Sadler inclined her head. “Yes, please do join us if you are able, Major Kelly.”
“It would be my pleasure.” He bowed again as they parted ways.
After taking a few steps down the hall, he forced himself to stop again. Seeing the Sandlers had diffused the worst of the anger that had been threatening to consume him. He’d needed to see them, he realized. They were a gentle reminder of who he was. Yes, he was a former soldier. But he was also a gentleman. Not the kind of man to race down the hall of a hotel intending to brutally harm another person in cold blood.
Not even if that person deserved it.
Feeling more himself, he exhaled and reevaluated his mission. He needed to help Lizbeth, but even if he went so far as to kill Daniel Bushnell, would it really change her life for the better? He didn’t think so. But he had to do something.
Thinking again about their meeting, Ethan realized it had taken everything he had
not to simply stare at her in befuddlement. After all, she was someone out of his dreams.
Even from the back, before he had any idea who she was, he could tell she was a fetching thing. Dark, curly hair. Small waist. Not too slight. Not too petite. An armful.
But then she turned around. Her eyes? Luminous and dark green. And she had that scar on her temple.
He’d been jolted by the sight.
He’d seen that scar before. It had haunted his dreams. No, she had haunted them.
When she lifted her chin, obviously waiting for him to say something more, he was without words. Not because she invaded his room. Not because of her obvious beauty. No, it had been because of that scar.
What were the chances of another woman having such a mark along her hairline? Since he dealt in odds in his current occupation, he knew there were none. She’d been the woman whose ranch they’d raided. She was the woman who had barely said two words to them. Who had shaken like a leaf whenever any of them got too close to her. Even when he’d promised, as an officer and a gentleman, that all they wanted was food and supplies.
She was starving, scared. Completely alone. He’d still ordered his men to take everything that was of use.
And they had.
And just like that, he was lost in the past. Lost, back at a small house not too far from San Antonio.
Back in the war, when he was hungry and cold.
And so desperate to help his men that he’d done many things he was ashamed of. A great many things.
Most, he’d made peace with. The war had been difficult and far more painful than any of them had anticipated. Every man he knew had been forced to take horrible steps to survive. The ones who hadn’t had died.
But even though he’d done a great many things he regretted, few came as close as his trip to this woman’s home with his men.
And all he could think to do to hide his dismay was to accuse her of trying to steal from him.
Now that he’d learned she was still so alone in the world, and that very afternoon had been on the run from Daniel Bushnell—a man with whom he had a long history and thoroughly despised—Ethan realized it was time to pay his debt to her.
Miss Barclay might never realize he remembered her from the war. He hoped she didn’t. It would ease his conscience. He hoped she would think of him only as someone willing to help her shoulder some of her burdens. Willing to protect her. To take care of anyone who threatened her again.
Love Held Captive Page 3
