— Charles Lowell Adams, Dispatches from The Iron Road, Great Western Rail Company
The ride from the main camp was an easy one. Charles was a good guide. He pointed out sights of interest along the way, explaining the tasks of the work crews they passed along with amusing or important anecdotes about some of the men in particular. When she asked about the armed guards watching over the crews, he assured her it was only a precaution after one of the men, a former Kentucky woodsman, came across signs of bear.
“It’s probably nowhere near us anymore,” Charles said. “They don’t like the commotion of the camp and the work details. But it’s better to be prepared.” She only noticed the rifle in the scabbard attached to his saddle when he patted it.
“I’ve never seen a bear outside of a travelling show,” she said.
“You wouldn’t want to,” he said. “They’re quite short-tempered, I understand.”
“Not unlike some people I know.”
They laughed, and continued on. Charles led the way up an increasingly steep, winding trail. The tricky ride again made Lillian grateful for her horse’s plodding steps. Who needed a spirited mount in this challenging terrain? Trees and brush crowded in on both sides of the trail, and she imagined they hid a menagerie of wildlife. Even if something jumped out at them, she doubted her mount would startle at anything less than the bear Charles mentioned. The beast was so phlegmatic, it would take a lightning bolt from the Almighty to rock it back on its horseshoes.
A high, thin scream drew her gaze up. Shading her eyes, she squinted to see the silhouette of a great bird circling above. It flew too high for her to make out more than wide wings and mottled brown feathers against the deep blue of the sky.
“Believe me, it’s worth the ride,” Charles called over his shoulder.
She eyed the way his form filled out his jacket, and the sleek muscles of his thighs where they gripped his horse. “Oh, I believe it.” When he looked back, she only smiled sweetly.
“Right,” he said. He faced forward again in time to hold up an arm to protect his face from a springy branch.
Lillian laughed to herself, enjoying the subtle flirtation. The anticipation that had thrummed through her since Charles and Conn made their unconventional offer the day before seemed more electric than ever. It was one thing to fantasize about them in the privacy of her bed, but to consider being with the two men and know that, at a word from her, it could become reality was unbelievably exciting.
At last the trail evened out. The close trees edged back, and they rode out onto a small clearing at the top of a high bluff. A wide strip of short grass and tiny flowers carpeted the small platform made by nature. Charles dismounted. Helping Lillian from her horse, he secured their mounts to a convenient tree limb within easy reach of grass and leaves to keep them occupied. Taking a bundle from his saddlebags, he offered Lillian his arm. She curled her fingers into the bend of his elbow. Stroking her thumb delicately over the heavy fabric of his coat, she imagined touching the sensitive skin of his inner arm. He paused and stared down at her, the brim of his hat casting a shadow over his upper face that failed to dim the fire that kindled in his eyes.
He hugged his arm against his side, surrounding her hand in his heat. Before she could move, he brushed her lips with a surprisingly chaste kiss. “Come,” he said. “You’ll like this.”
“Of that, I have no doubt.”
Grinning at her sally, he said, “Enough of that for now, Lilly, my little minx.”
Drawing her forward, Charles urged her to the very edge of the bluff. It dropped away quite steeply. Lillian felt her stomach tumble as vertigo struck. Clutching Charles’s arm, this time in both hands, she gasped. “Oh, my.”
“It’s perfectly safe,” he said. “The engineers have been all over this place. If it wasn’t solid, they would have had to reinforce it to prevent it from crumbling and blocking the tracks when the trains begin to rattle past alongside it.”
Feeling a bit silly, Lillian loosened her grip. Of course he wouldn’t lead her to the edge of disaster. For all his love of adventure, Charles was no one’s fool.
Bucking up her courage, Lillian looked out on the vista spread below.
Some distance away, one of the Chinese work crews removed stumps from a cleared tract of land. Beyond the main crew, a smaller group of men worked close to a rocky face that dwarfed the bluff she and Charles stood on. From Devereaux’s report and the state of the trackless railbed leading up to it, she surmised it was to be the start of their tunnel when blasting began the next day. Hard to imagine such a solid, imposing wall of rock as the tunnel it would become, thanks to the power of Mr. Nobel’s thrilling invention. Without the dynamite, carving the needed route with the comparatively frail power of human muscle would take much, much longer.
Using just shovels, pickaxes, chisels and hammers, the Chinese work crew cleared the fledgling track bed with near startling rapidity, using baskets and one-horse carts to carry away the excavated dirt and rocks. A number of white bosses oversaw the work, yet they were hardly needed. Lillian had heard that one of her father’s rivals, Charles Crocker, insisted that his construction superintendant focus on hiring Chinese workers because of their proven talent for massive projects. Seeing their skill, she couldn’t disagree.
A few figures bearing kettles suspended from yokes over their shoulders moved among the men with the hot tea they preferred to water. The Chinese crews had their own cooks, their own rations and their own food. Unlike the white crews, with their contracted beef and potatoes, the Chinese subsisted on a varied diet of vegetables, fruit, fish and several kinds of meat as well as noodles and rice. They were really quite efficient employees, she reflected. One didn’t hear of the Chinese workers getting into fisticuffs in camp.
Charles released her arm and drew away. She looked at him inquiringly. He held up the bundle of fabric he carried under his other arm. “Allow me.” After doing something she couldn’t see, he gave the bundle a flip and it billowed open like a sail. A blanket, she realized. He quickly spread it on the ground. As he adjusted the blanket to his satisfaction, she noted that he still held a second, smaller, bundle. It must have been wrapped up inside the bundled blanket. In short order, Charles produced a small repast and jug of chilled, sweetened tea from the smaller package.
Smiling at his forethought, Lillian settled herself on the blanket and allowed him to serve her.
Even seated, the vantage point provided an excellent view of the scene and workers below. Lillian wondered if she should attend the blasting tomorrow, or if her presence would distract the crews that carried out the dangerous task. It might be possible to watch, if she stayed on the safety of the bluff.
She and Charles spoke briefly of their mutual acquaintances in Boston, but she quickly steered the conversation to the upcoming expedition. Some journalists were on the guest list, but most of the people they would be squiring around for the excursion were investors, would-be investors and their spouses. Her father had commissioned a small fleet of private railcars. Unlike hers, each elegant car had space for a number of guests. Eventually, they would go into service on the new line. For now, they were a novelty that was certain to impress the men and women hoping to take a look at the swift progress the Great Western Rail Company was making in its push west.
Charles tipped his head back and swallowed the last of his sweetened tea. Then he picked up Lillian’s parasol, slid it open and solicitously handed it to her. Lillian looked at him questioningly. While the sun was out, it was far from a light-dappled day. She’d brought the parasol along more out of habit than any need to fend off freckles.
“I think you’ll want to have this,” Charles said. She didn’t know which intrigued her more, the husky timbre of his voice or the mischievous glimmer in his dark brown eyes. Regardless, she took the parasol and held it daintily over her shoulder to shield her face from the cool fall sunlight.
Charles looked at her pose with a critical eye. To her further surpr
ise, he touched the handle and guided her hold on the parasol until the lacy hemisphere faced the workers rather than the sun.
“Perfect,” he said. Before she could speak, he leaned forward and kissed her. Lillian smiled with delight at his surprising move, pleased when his lips spread in answering mirth without breaking the kiss. Charles’s lips were soft and firm. Almost as full as her own, they were saved from any hint of femininity by the starkly masculine lines of his jaw and cheekbones. Lillian closed her eyes and let sensation steal over her. She hummed with pleasure as the tip of his tongue traced the seam of her lips. It glided back and forth, back and forth, teasing her with sensuous promise. Even when she finally parted her lips to let him in, he took his time. His tongue curled around hers with consummate skill, luring her into an almost forgotten rhythm.
A bang and a harsh shout from below jolted her out of the kiss. Lillian jerked upright, only then realizing she had been leaning into Charles with all the avidity of an affection-starved puppy. She watched the heat in Charles’s eyes and decided he didn’t mind in the least.
“It’s all right,” he said softly, his weight braced on one palm on the blanket as he sat close to her. “No one can see us up here. It’s just you and me, Lilly.”
Lillian’s belly quivered pleasantly at the sound of the endearment in his passion-husked voice. She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and weighed the risks of continuing down this road to passion. It was a tempting route to follow. She released her lip and looked at him steadily. She felt a feminine thrill when his eyes fastened on her mouth as if he couldn’t help himself.
“Yes, Charles. Just you and me.” And then she deliberately wet her lip with her tongue.
He didn’t look triumphant, or arrogant, or even pleased. He just looked as hungry as she felt.
Lillian kept her eyes open as he came at her again, forgoing the slow, teasing, stroking kiss for a meltingly hot one she felt all the way to her belly, and lower.
Charles cupped her face in one strong palm. She was briefly surprised by the calluses on his palm and fingers, then realized it was from holding the reins without gloves to protect his hands, as well as from wielding his ever-present pen.
He smelled delicious. He felt heavenly. And he tasted divine.
A full participant in her own seduction, Lillian eagerly followed his lead. There was more to learn of this man from her world, who had walked away from an easy life to follow a more dangerous road. She hungered to learn why. To be frank, that same blend of the unknown and the unique drew her to Conn just as strongly. While two men could not be more unalike, the desire they inspired in her was oddly the same.
Lillian sighed as Charles’s fingers traced her jaw, briefly dipping up to touch her lips where they met his. They both smiled. His hand trailed away, tracing a sensuous path down the column of her throat to the frilled lace secured at her collar with her mother’s pearl brooch. Then he went lower, dragging his hand down until he cupped her breast through the stiff fabric of her bodice, corset and shift. She might as well be naked, so clearly did she imagine his hot skin pressing against her flesh. Her nipple budded into an almost painful knot. Charles made an approving sound low in his throat. Cradling her breast, he found the stiff point through the layers of clothing and flicked it with his thumb, brushing his nail over and around the hard tip.
Lillian couldn’t stop the soft cry he caught in his mouth. He pulled the barest inch away from her lips, his breath hot against her mouth as he whispered, “Lilly, my sweet. You are a siren. A goddess.”
Catching her breath, and her boldness, Lillian nipped his shaven chin. “Then you must be a woodland god, Charles. I swear there is something magical in your touch.”
Chuckling a bit raggedly, Charles ducked his head, eyes following the metronome sweep of his thumb over her nipple, still sedately covered by her gown. “I wish I could strip your clothes from you right now and see what I’m touching.”
Lillian purred. “What a lovely thought. Perhaps if we return to my private car…”
“In a bit. Just a little longer, my sweet, before we go back to the camp. After all, that annoying gnat Yorke might have found some vital correspondence for your immediate attention, or require your consultation on some matter, and then we would lose our chance.”
“You’re likely right. Very well. We’ll linger, but only for a little while.”
His pressed a hot kiss to her lips. “A little while is not quite enough for what I have in mind. Please say you’ll stay longer, Lilly.”
Meeting his hot brown gaze, she felt herself melt even more. “How could I refuse?”
Charles rewarded her with a licking kiss then settled his lips over hers in earnest. He continued to play with her breast, tormenting her with soft touches and bold caresses that she felt down to her toes. Lillian shifted on the blanket, almost gasping when the motion rubbed her thighs together and sent sparks of sensation shooting through her clitoris and beyond. She liked it so much, she did it again.
Charles must have sensed her need, because his hand left her breast and moved to her belly. Easing closer, lips never leaving hers, he traced the length of her thigh. The weighted fabric of her warm skirts was as thin as gossamer as he cupped her knee, gliding down to shape her calf, and reached the ruffled edge. In a blink, his fingers were under it, holding her ankle through her low boot. Then they began the return journey up her body, this time under her skirts and petticoats, over the delicate fabric of her drawers.
Lillian felt driven to protest. “Charles, we really shouldn’t.” Even she heard the reluctance in her voice.
His eyes met hers. His fingers continued their slow exploration up her thigh, caressing bare flesh. “Please, Lilly. Let me do this for you.”
Her eyes flicked to the front of his trousers, where a very obvious bulge had formed. “And you?”
His smile was both rueful and resigned. “Lord knows I should be used to it by now. First, I’m exiled here in the wilds where the most appealing bit of flesh around is Conn’s, and I vow, it’s not truly that appealing.”
His words surprised a light laugh from her. Shaking his head at himself, he continued, “And before I can even brace myself, the most beautiful woman in Boston arrives to play ducks and drakes with my poor, neglected manhood.”
“Neglected?” Lillian arched a brow. “Surely not entirely neglected, not for a man with such skills at…hand.”
It was his turn to chuckle. “No, not entirely. But enough, by God, to make me afraid I’ll disgrace myself, sweet Lilly. So have mercy on my monk-like state.” His touch persuaded as he continued to advance, ever so slowly, northward over her now quivering flesh. “Let me do this for you. If I can’t sink into you the way I truly want, allow me this.”
With his last word, his fingertips slid into the slit at the crotch of her drawers and touched the dainty curls that shielded her pussy, tickling and taunting her. With only a fleeting thought for the men below, Lillian sucked in a breath and watched him through lowered lashes. “How can a lady refuse?” she said at last.
“Thank you,” he said.
Then he proceeded to steal her mind.
Had she thought him heavenly? His touch was pure sin. With seductive ease, he glided his palm over the damp curls at the apex of her thighs. It felt so delicious she fought to keep from pressing her legs together to trap him there. Oh, it had been so long since a man’s sure touch had played over her most intimate flesh.
Lillian was so wet, Charles’s fingers glided with ridiculous ease along her cleft. Each pass of his calloused fingertips sent a shiver of delight racing through her. And each pass made something deep in her belly clench tighter and tighter. She fought to still the instinctive pulse of her hips as she sought a deeper caress. Charles, magician that he was, shifted closer so he could deliver what his touch promised.
She felt his eyes rove over her face, drinking in her every stifled gasp and moan. She was beyond caring, every particle of her being focused on pleasure.
“Sweet Lilly,” he crooned. “Unfurl your petals for me.”
Lillian was helpless to do anything else. Her fingers clenched around the handle of her parasol while her other hand fisted a handful of the blanket near the frothy pool of her skirts. Then Charles nudged the entrance to her channel, easily slipping two fingers into her dripping passage. Gently, he twisted his fingers with intimate skill, his thumb firmly pressing her stiff nub as he plumbed her depths. Lillian dropped her chin to her chest and bit her lip to keep from crying out. She couldn’t stop the tortured whimpers that escaped in rising pitch.
Charles spurred her on, both with his hand and his voice, praising her, promising her she was almost there, almost there, almost…
Lillian gasped out a soft cry, some part of her mindful of the workers going about their sweaty business. Shudders wracked her body as delight coursed through her veins like quicksilver. The effort it took to keep as still as possible was unbelievable. When the pleasure ebbed, she would have sagged forward if Charles hadn’t caught her elbow to steady her. Harsh breaths hissed through her gritted teeth, and she became aware of Charles smoothing her skirts back into place to cover her ankles.
A distant part of Lillian was shocked that she still held the parasol.
Charles’s face was stark with controlled desire, twin spots of color rouging his cheekbones. He studied her for a moment, not saying a word. Carefully, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I had no idea how true I spoke when I said you were beautiful, Lilly.”
At a loss for words, she watched as, with jerky movements, he packed away their simple luncheon. Hesitating only long enough to discreetly adjust the erection bulging against the front of his trousers, Charles rolled awkwardly to his feet. He helped Lillian up and folded the blanket away. Within moments, Lillian found herself tossed back on top of her horse, reins in her hands. Charles eyed his saddle, glanced down at himself, then shook his head.
The Railroad Baroness Page 9
