Love and Adventure Collection - Part 2

by Jennifer Blake

“You mean — undress you?”

  “That was the idea.”

  “You must be mad!” Serena dropped the petticoat and straightened her corset cover with a snap, pushing an arm into the cap sleeve.

  Ward came erect with a swift, fluid movement. His hands fastened on the corset cover, stripping it from her grasp. “Yes,” he grated, “I think I must be.”

  His eyes, dark with frustrated desire, burned into hers. Reaching for her, he pulled her against his chest. His arms clamped hard around her, pressing her breasts to the stinging wool and cold metal buttons of his jacket. His mouth took hers in brooding possession, as with unrelenting pressure he lowered her to the bed of resilient pine needles once more. He loomed over her, his weight stilling her movements, forcing her to lie quiescent as he slipped the buttons that held the waist of her drawers and stripped them from her. He removed his own clothing with a few quick, almost vicious moves, then drew her beneath him.

  With a sense of shock, Serena realized she still wore her corset with its ribbon garters holding up her silk stockings. The hard muscles of Ward’s thighs glided over her, intertwining with her silken limbs, sending a shiver along her nerves. The sensation was so strong, so strange and unexpected, that she was caught in a startling and incredible surge of wantonness. The hard fingers of his hand cupped the voluptuous fullness of her breast where it was pushed upward by the constraining corset. Serena lifted a hand to his shoulder, spreading her fingers over the powerful muscles. She was aware of a quickening inside her, of the weakening of her opposition.

  He tasted the corner of her mouth, trailing kisses with the feel of fire along her cheek to the curve of her jawline. He paused at the tender hollow of her throat, then dropped lower to the mound of her breast that trembled to the thudding of her heartbeat. His hand smoothed the slim, satin-covered indentation of her waist, sliding down and beneath the taut-stretched ribbon garter. Her skin seemed to glow, though the brilliance of the sunlit day was receding, leaving dimness behind her tightly closed eyelids. She heard the rush of the wind in the trees overhead, felt it brush her skin. She knew a feeling of intense life, of fullness waiting to encompass and hold, and then she felt the deep thrusting strength of him inside her. Her senses expanded, floating, surging with a primitive rhythm old beyond human thought. She felt free and yet earthbound, swept up by the plunging ardor that weighted her to the ground, soaring even as she was gathered close for one final, shuddering fall.

  Ward brushed away the tendrils that had escaped from her knotted hair to blow across her face. He cupped her cheek, brushing his lips across her eyes. With a sigh that seemed to shudder through his frame, he eased from her. Serena heard the rustle of his clothing as he pulled on his trousers. Opening her eyes to slits, she watched as he shrugged into his shirt and began to button it. His face was shadowed as he attended to that small task, and there was a frown between his eyes.

  A shiver caught Serena by surprise. The sun had gone behind a bank of gray clouds. Here in the shade, there was an uncomfortable chill in the wind.

  She stirred, levering herself to one elbow, reaching for her petticoats and corset cover, panting a little as she tried to regain her breath against the tight squeeze of her corsets.

  They dressed in silence. Constraint crept in upon them along with a feeling of haste as the blue of the sky was invaded by a spreading cover of gray, rising up over the mountains from the southeast, and lightning flickered over the distant peaks. Serena was pulling the lace-edged jabot of her shirtwaist into place over the lapels of her jacket when Ward spoke.

  “Serena—”

  She looked up quickly at the note of hard reluctance in his voice.

  “I’ve been meaning to tell you. I will be leaving for Denver in the morning.”

  “Denver?” Her fingers were suddenly cold and clumsy; still, she could not acknowledge surprise. She had suspected something.

  “I have business to attend to there. I’ll only be gone a few days.”

  “You will be coming back then?”

  He swung toward her. “Coming back? Of course I will. You don’t have to worry about that, or anything else. You will be all right where you are, above the Eldorado.”

  “Yes, I’m sure I will.” She looked away out over the landscape with its shades of yellow-green, gray-green, and black-green.

  “I’ll pack tonight and leave on the early-morning train after the Eldorado closes. I — I would take you with me, but it is going to be nothing more than a series of meetings in smoky club rooms. I thought you might prefer being relieved of my presence for a time.”

  His words seemed to carry a shading of evasiveness. Was there more to it than he was saying? Was it, perhaps, that he preferred to be free of her presence also? The possibility was not a comfortable one, but it had to be faced.

  “I — expect I can manage,” she answered.

  “Yes,” he said, his tone grim and his eyes dark and hard as emeralds, “so do I.”

  8

  The sound of a train whistle, long, clear, and mournful, jerked Serena from sleep. It was the all-night train from Denver, coming in. Soon it would be leaving again, and Ward would be on it. Serena wrenched over in the bed, giving her pillow a thump. She didn’t care. She was just a little piqued that Ward could leave her so easily. The least he could have done was come to tell her goodbye. It might be he considered what had passed between them on the mountainside the afternoon before as their farewell, but somehow, to her, it lacked the right note of regret.

  What would he do, she wondered, if she dressed and walked down to the station depot to see him off. Would he be glad or annoyed? Or worse still, would he be merely disinterested? She could not begin to guess. Sometimes she thought he cared a little for her, at others it seemed she was no more than a convenience, someone to warm his bed and relieve the tensions that built up inside him at night over the gaming tables.

  No, she wouldn’t go down. That would look as if she was upset that he was leaving. It might even appear that she was begging to be taken along. That would never do. She was just as happy to be left alone. She would be fine by herself, just fine. The first thing she could do would be get a little more sleep, now that the din had died away from the barroom below, and the dance halls with their tinny pianos and squeeze-box waltzes had closed for the night.

  It was a good resolution, but she was still awake, listening to the early-morning traffic and the raucous braying of burros known as Rocky Mountain canaries, when she heard the departing whistle of the train for Denver.

  The day passed slowly. Sanchow brought breakfast, more than enough for two, leaving it outside the door as always. He must have learned of Ward’s absence as he left through the barroom, however, for when luncheon time came, he did not appear. Several times Serena went out into the hall and looked up and down, but there was no sign of the Chinaman. Only the remains of breakfast, fast drying in the arid air, sat in the hall, waiting to be retrieved.

  It was an oversight, Serena told herself. Her dinner would doubtless be on time, if not earlier than usual. Sanchow would be full of apologies, bowing himself in half, fearful that he had offended, that he had lost a regular and valued client like Ward. It would do her no harm to wait that long.

  Darkness fell, and still the Chinese restaurant owner had not appeared. Driven by hunger, Serena dressed herself in her gray cheviot and descended the stairs to the barroom.

  “Well, look who’s here!” Pearlie cried, saluting Serena with a derisive gesture of the glass of golden liquid she held as she leaned against the mahogany bar. “To what do we owe this honor?”

  The crowd in the barroom was not small despite its being so near time for the evening meal. There were quite a few men at the long bar partaking of the bread and meat, cheese and peanuts laid out for customers, a custom with beginnings in New Orleans that Ward had imported. Serena averted her eyes from the sight as she moved farther into the brightly lighted room, coming to a halt beside Pearlie. One or two of the men glanced in
her direction, but the rumble of voices and clank of glasses made it possible for her to speak to Pearlie without being overheard.

  “I came down to ask if anyone had seen anything of Sanchow, He didn’t bring my lunch, and now he is late with dinner.”

  “And you want your supper?”

  Serena did not like the smile on the other woman’s face. “That was the idea.”

  “I am afraid I have bad news for you. You were supposed to have had lamb chops for lunch, but that happens to be Otto’s favorite meal. The poor thing was so hungry he couldn’t help himself. He ate every bite on the tray.”

  “And my dinner?” Serena asked, her lips tightening.

  “Beef stew,” Pearlie said with a small moue of distaste. “Otto didn’t like it, so he threw it out.”

  “Threw it out?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “But what am I supposed to eat?”

  “The choice is entirely up to you. You will find any number of eating places in town. Don’t look for Sanchow, however. Like a fool, he insisted on bringing you another bowl of stew, and Otto had to get rough to convince him you didn’t want it. I am afraid Otto may have gone a bit too far. He doesn’t like Chinamen, you see. He’s always said Sanchow should have been run out of town where the miners got rid of the other coolies last year.”

  “He — he isn’t dead?” Serena had come to like the smiling little yellow man. He had tried so hard to please.

  “I don’t think so, but I am sure he, won’t be cooking for a while.”

  “If that’s true,” Serena said slowly, “then there’s no place I can go to eat. I have no money.”

  Pearlie laughed. “How tight-fisted of Ward. But I’m sure, if you are reasonable, a source of income can be arranged.”

  “What do you mean?” Serena had a good idea of the trend this conversation was taking, but the question had to be asked.

  “I mean,” Pearlie answered, her face growing hard, “that if you want to eat, you will come down out of your ivory tower and earn your way here with the rest of us. I think a number or two on stage will be a good place to start.”

  “You know how Ward feels about me being in the bar-room,” Serena said. “Just because he isn’t here doesn’t mean that has changed.”

  Pearlie drank off the liquor she held and set the glass on the bar with a sharp bang. The glitter of triumph in her pale-blue eyes, she said, “Don’t be too sure. Ward and I had a long talk last night. It’s obvious that your talents are being wasted up there in his rooms. It is selfish of him to keep you to himself. When I pointed it out, he was able to see you would be much better off down here where you could have a few drinks, a good time. We need a little something to liven up the show, a new face, not to mention a new form. The Golden Horn down the street has a new girl they are advertising up and down the avenue as being straight from Paris. She never saw France, of course, but who cares so long as the miners believe it? I thought we could post a billboard outside touting you as the toast of London. Men like exotic women: look at Little Egypt.”

  “If you think I am going to entertain on stage, or anywhere else, you are much mistaken!”

  “Am I? We’ll see. I believe you will think again when you get hungry enough.”

  “I can always go elsewhere.”

  “No,” Pearlie said, tilting her head to one side with a considering look. “No, I think not. The only job you would be able to find would be just like what I am offering you here at the Eldorado. We may as well have the pleasure of introducing you as anyone. And if I were to let you go, Ward would be sure to think I had turned you out. I couldn’t allow that.”

  “I don’t see how you can stop me.” Serena swung on her heel, starting toward the door.

  “Otto!”

  At the sharp command in the woman’s voice, the big man rose from a table in one dim corner and lumbered toward Serena.

  Unwilling to grapple with the Eldorado’s bouncer, Serena came to a halt and turned slowly back to face the smugness of the other woman.

  “You see?” Pearlie inquired with an unpleasant smile. “Now come, my dear. I know you will listen to reason. I think you have that much intelligence — and imagination. You can imagine, can’t you, what will happen to you if I allow Otto to take you into the back room? He — is not a man to be bothered by a woman’s screams. And if you should still prove stubborn, something I don’t expect, mind, there are other ways. Have you ever been drugged? It can be an unpleasant sensation, unless you are willing. A woman is so helpless in that condition. While she is unconscious, anything can be done to her, anything at all. There are other measures used by some of the more hardened females who run parlor houses to keep their girls in line.” A smile flickered across Pearlie’s face. “I have never held with such abuse of the merchandise myself, but I know some who enjoy it, and its effectiveness in subduing temperamental females is amazing.”

  The glazed look in the other woman’s eyes as she smiled made Serena feel a little sick. Was there really no choice except to do as Pearlie suggested? There seemed none, and yet it went against the grain to yield.

  “If I could bring myself to do as you say,” Serena said slowly, “it would not serve. I have nothing to wear except what I am standing up in. I don’t think the miners would find it much of an attraction when they can see the same thing on the street any day of the week.”

  “You are quite right,” Pearlie agreed, letting her gaze flicker over Serena’s walking costume. “I will have to lend you something of mine. With a few adjustments here and there, it should fit well enough. Or better still, is there by chance anything in your long-lost trunk that might be suitable? If so, I believe I can lay hands on it for you.”

  “My trunk?” Serena repeated. She could not believe she had heard right. She had counted it gone beyond recall long weeks ago.

  Pearlie signaled for another drink. The glance she slanted in Serena’s direction was filled with malicious amusement. “Ward, devil that he is, had them put it in the storeroom in back. Why, I couldn’t say, unless he preferred to have you dressed, or undressed, to suit himself.”

  “You mean it’s been here all along?”

  “Since the day after you got here. I take it you would like to have it?”

  “Yes,” Serena said. “Yes, I would.”

  “Good. I’ll have it sent up then. Come on down when you are ready. I’ll send out for food.” Ward’s partner raised her filled glass to her lips, took a sip, then added, “I expect it will get here just about the time the first show is finished.”

  The contents of her trunk had been tumbled, as though someone had rummaged through it. Serena was not really surprised to discover her small hoard of money and her bag of foodstuff missing. Taking her dresses out one by one, she shook the wrinkles from their folds. It was odd how much more faded and worn they looked since she had seen them last, and how hopelessly outmoded. It was as though it had been years since she had worn them, years in which she had become a woman instead of a child.

  The only thing that appeared the same was her mother’s ivory silk ball gown. With reverent care, she lifted it from the trunk and spread it over the foot of the bed. Removing the matching slippers with their gilt heels, she set them beside it. With these, she placed her locket and her necklace and earrings of gold and seed pearls. Finally she laid a fan of painted silk with carved ivory sticks on the shining bodice. How much more value these things had now that she had lost everything else. To have them returned to her after so long gave her a feeling of completeness and comfort, as if she had been lost, rather than her belongings.

  How had Ward dared to keep them from her? No matter how miserable she might have looked in her undersized clothing, he had no right. The man took too much upon himself, making her his kept woman, dictating where she should go and what she should wear. Perhaps it was a good thing she was getting out from under his thumb.

  He might have told her, might have explained that he was bored with her comp
any instead of leaving it to Pearlie. Was it possible it was Ward’s idea that she still be kept at the Eldorado instead of making her own way? Maybe he wanted her conveniently at hand, even if he no longer required exclusive access to her person? Much good it might do him!

  Yesterday afternoon on the mountain, hadn’t she suspected this was coming? He had behaved so strangely. Something had been on his mind; it must have been this. Why couldn’t he have said something then? Odd. She would have sworn Ward was not the kind of man to shirk such a task, no matter how disagreeable.

  The door into the sitting room swung open, then closed with a slam. The tap of wooden heels came on the pine floors, stopping abruptly as they reached the wool rugs. Serena was jerked from her absorption. With a quick turn, she moved to the bedroom door.

  It was Pearlie who came toward her. Over her arm she carried a dress in a garish shade of yellow-green trimmed with the sparkle of black spangles. A smile curled the woman’s lips as she saw Serena standing in the door with one hand braced on the frame.

  “Did the barman bring your trunk?”

  “Yes, he did.”

  “Since you were so long in coming down, I thought you might still be having problems finding something to wear. I brought you this, just in case.”

  “That was — kind of you,” Serena said, her tone dry as she gingerly accepted the costume the woman offered. The bodice, with its gaudy edging of spangles, was scooped daringly low. The skirt was raised to knee level in front, angling to the floor in the back. It was clear that no allowance had been made for the wearing of either corsets or petticoats in its design. If any confirmation of this last fact was needed, Serena had only to look at Pearlie, who wore a replica of the dress in ice blue though it was trimmed in marabou rather than spangles.

  “The fit may not be perfect, but it should do for tonight,” Pearlie went on. “I’ve had a little talk with Timothy at the piano. It’s all arranged for you to do a solo in honor of the occasion. Try to make it something special, won’t you? Just tell Timothy what you have in mind. He can fumble his way through anything.”