Noble entered her without further ado and she was more than ready for him. She took him easily, her womb yearning for his blunt and solid touch. If she could have, she would have taken him all the way to her heart. Her heart, where he touched her as insistently as he did her body.
She called to him, demanded he meet her need with his own. He came then, spilled his seed on her stomach, her name spilling again and again from his lips. Her wrenching cry of "Noble, Noble" was soulful and loud before his lips crushed and silenced her own.
* * *
The music was noisy and so were the people about him, shouting over the music to make themselves heard.
Scanning the crowd at the Kick and Kaboodle, Noble decided that he and Lori were the only ones who said more in silence than the rowdies managed in their strident laughter and abrasive yells.
It was not so different from the other dance halls he'd been in; tame, actually, in comparison. Women did not lift their skirts and seduce men into their rooms so they might part with their gold in exchange for the parting of legs.
Even so, he did not like this place. And judging from her false smile as she yelled something back to their friend Jennifer, Lori had ceased liking the dance hall herself.
While he studied her and sipped silently at his beer, a woman approached him. A comely woman, were her hair not so artificially blond, her clothes so tight, and her makeup so generously applied.
She asked him to dance. He looked to Lori for help, silently pleading with her to tell the other woman that she'd already been promised this dance. But, no. She smiled. Grimly. "Go ahead, Noble. Dance with the lady."
Dance with her he did. But a lady she was not, giving him coy smiles or licking her lips while she "accidentally" brushed her breasts to his chest. The woman was worse than a harlot. She offered him her body for free when he hadn't the least interest in taking it.
Nevertheless he thanked her for the dance and sighed his relief once it was over. He did this again and again, barely able to sit down before another woman approached. Most of them were far more pleasant and genuine than the first, but only good manners induced him to accept their invitations.
He did not want to dance with these women. The woman he wanted to be with was Lori. Lori, who pretended not to notice his vacant seat at the table while she yelled back and forth with Jennifer and darted her eyes to the dance floor. He intercepted each chance glance with a befuddled, accusing gaze, which she turned from as if unable to bear the sight of him with another woman, though she had all but pushed him into their undesired company.
"Last dance!" was called out As he made his way to the table, thirsty for more than a sip of beer to wet his mouth, he felt yet another tap on his shoulder.
Noble turned. The woman was absolutely beautiful by any standards of time or man. She looked quite sure of his answer as she crooked a finger.
"Thank you. But, no. The last dance goes to my lady."
He left the disgruntled woman and approached Lori who was smiling for the first time all night.
Extending his hand, he asked, insisted, "dance with me."
She came out of her seat faster than he could pull her from it. And then... then, oh, how they danced.
Without a care in the world for what others thought of them, they flowed together as a river wide and just as deep. Never mind that it was a line dance, everyone else dancing alone. Together they danced in the middle, claimed their own realm, and didn't bother to apologize to anyone blocking their way as they forged a singular, whirling path.
It was only after the music ceased to play, after he bent her back and ravaged her mouth with a demanding kiss he'd longed for all night, that silence surrounded them. And then, the sound of a clap, followed by another and another until the rafters echoed with applause and shrill whistles came at them from every direction.
He shifted his mouth to her ear so she would hear him over the roar. "I don't want to be here, Lori. I want to be with you, only with you."
"My bedroom or yours?"
Noble hesitated before answering her. The wedding picture had posed too much of a threat to make love to her where he most wanted to.
"Yours," he said firmly.
"Then what are we waiting for? Let's split before the second encore." They received a second encore anyway as he swept her into his arms and made for the exit.
Lori had let Mick and her past go. Starting tonight, Noble determined to do the same.
Chapter 17
"No-ble. Oh honey, I'm ho-ome," Lori singsonged, her step happy and light as she sailed into the kitchen. She was two hours early, the first of several anniversary presents.
For three months they had lived together in glorious, passionate bliss—if she didn't count their occasional arguments. Which always ended in more glorious, passionate bliss.
She took out the lobster tails she'd bought, along with a bottle of uncheap champagne and a pound of real butter. Smiling mischievously, she left a stick out on the counter. Appetizer enough, Lori decided. Besides, she was cooking dinner for a change, so they just might have butter for dessert, too.
Hopefully they'd have enough left for the lobster.
At that last thought, she giggled on her way to the stairs, her new nightie and a black silk robe for Noble in hand. Also in the bag was a framed candid of them kissing that Ryan had taken. She'd suggest they put it in place of her wedding picture, which belonged in a photo album, not beside a shared bed.
But first, she'd give Noble the best present of all. Three words she couldn't hold back any longer.
Did she love Noble? Not much. Only madly, completely, without question or fear. He hadn't pressed her to say it since that day on his parents' land. Neither had he said the words himself, stubborn, marvelous man that he was, waiting for her. But he told her in a thousand different ways.
Waking her with a rose tickling her nose, then sweeping her from head to toe with the petals. Chiding her when she said she didn't have time for breakfast and insisting she eat on the way. Tending a small cut with a kiss to make it better. Chasing her through the house then tickling her until she screamed for mercy, only for Noble to show no mercy at all, a suddenly serious man who was as purposeful in his dark passion as he was in all else.
He read extensively, lightning fast, and delighted in challenging her with spirited debates. Even though she rarely won, he left no doubt of his respect for her opinion. Noble, her Noble, was a rare and wonderful man, whose skill at poker was rivaled only by his ability to make the best bread ever.
Better enjoy it while she could. He was too ambitious to play househusband much longer.
There. Her biggest fear confronted. Marriage. Marriage to a man who was nothing like Mick and everything she could ever want. Noble, who would be a wise but stern, patient but playful father. She wanted children. His children. She wanted his name. But... Noble didn't have a name in the eyes of the very law he should be practicing. Such a waste. Such a damn waste. If only he wouldn't cut her off every time she brought up the birth certificate...
Her smile fading, Lori felt a familiar frustration. It wasn't right that he refused to establish a new identity. Without it, he couldn't get any kind of a license, marriage included. But surely that would be incentive enough to change his mind. She held the tramp card and this was one hand she was sure of winning.
Approaching the bedroom, Lori paused, mentally arranging her words that probably wouldn't come out right anyway.
First, she would tell him he'd convinced her that his love and loyalty were true. Then she'd tell him that she had come to realize life held no guarantees, and even if he died tomorrow, the pain would be worth it because she wouldn't trade a single minute they shared for a lifetime of never having known him.
And then... then she'd tell him she loved him.
If he didn't propose, she would. Once they got that settled, she would convince him to use the birth certificate so they could get married and get on with their lives. So what if they shared a bo
rrowed last name? Both of them would know it was Zhivago and nothing else mattered.
He wouldn't like it But if Noble wanted to marry her badly enough, surely he could swallow his pride. They could fly to Vegas and he could meet her parents, who had retired there. He could formally ask her father for her hand, as she was sure he would do—and then, then...
Squaring her shoulders, Lori took a deep breath and marched into the bedroom, prepared as she'd ever be to take charge of fate.
His name was on her lips, but he wasn't there. She searched the house, calling to him.
Where was he? With a sigh of disappointment, she decided he must be out and about somewhere within walking distance.
Lori decided to use her time alone in a soothing bath. With bubbles, lots of them. Then she'd put on her new nightie. Who cared if it was the middle of the day? Noble sure wouldn't. He was the one who had taught her the value of sheer feminine whimsy.
Lord, she thought, for having such a serious nature, he sure had a way of bringing out the naughty in her.
And she was feeling naughty when she heard him rummaging around the kitchen. Eager as she was to race down the stairs and tell him her insights and professions and even propose if he didn't beat her to it, Lori stayed put on his bed where they'd first made love. Draped as alluringly as possible she greeted him with a sultry, "hi, lover. Happy anniversary."
He stopped abruptly at the open door. And looked from her to a legal pad in his hands.
"Lori?" he said with an untypical note of uncertainty. "What are you doing here?"
"Waiting. For you." When he didn't move, she beckoned him to the bed. Again, he looked from her to the pad. Something that resembled guilt, not the delight and purely male heat she had expected, shadowed his face. "Something tells me that wherever you've been has a lot to do with the fact you're not ripping off your clothes and jumping my bones."
His conflicted gaze meeting hers, Noble silently handed her the thick sheaf of pages filled with his script.
He wasn't taking notes on Shakespeare. An uneasy feeling twisted her stomach as she flipped through enough legalese jottings to make a Supreme Court judge's head spin. Her own pounded an echo of oh no, oh no, no, no, no.
"You were at the state law library, weren't you?"
"I was. It's where I go once you've gone to work. It's where I leave an hour before you arrive home. It is where I've been tutoring myself with a vengeance so I might take the state bar. Another year, perhaps less, and I'll be ready."
"But to take the bar you have to have proof that you graduated from law school."
He looked at her then, directly and without apology. "I have graduated from law school, Lori. Top of the class, Cambridge, 1887. Furthermore, I have proven myself as a force to be reckoned with in a courtroom. As I shall prove myself again once I finish with my studies and pass the bar."
"I'm sure you could do it with your eyes closed, Noble. But that doesn't change the fact that you don't have a diploma—"
"I do. Not the original, but the photocopy I received last week will suffice."
"That photocopy has your name on it."
"As well it should. I earned my law degree, Lori. And now I have the proof that I did. All I need to do is convince the necessary authorities it is indeed mine, which I will, and then I'll take the bar. Since one's reputation isn't earned overnight, you'll likely have to work awhile longer, but once I'm established, you need never work again."
"But I like my job," she said frantically. "Never mind that, forget my job for now—"
"I never forget it. Have you any idea how it galls me to see you off to work when more than anything I want to go to my own? Have you any inkling of how I long to kiss you and our children, leave with the knowledge that my family is well provided for and safe? Safe in a grand house on my land—our land—that will never see blood shed upon it again. This is my dream, Lori, a dream so real it's in every breath I take."
Her own breath was a pant of panic. The one fear she had convinced herself she wouldn't have to face was coming at her head-on and Lori floundered as wave upon wave assaulted her.
Fighting for calm, she knew this was one battle she had to win. "It—it's a wonderful dream, but the price is too high. You want too much, Noble. The only way we can have even a piece of your dream is if you're willing to compromise."
"And just what do you propose?" He sneered. "That I continue to tend the house, minus my studies, while you continue to support us both, my own paltry means of support limited to the occasional poker game?"
She knew, had known all along, that Noble couldn't live like that and neither could she. He'd start to resent her while she tried to make everything all right, and she'd end up resenting him when she couldn't. In the end what was so good between them now would turn sour.
"You haven't wanted to talk about it, so I never told you why I picked Barry Jones from all the obituaries I could find. Out of state—he was from Nebraska."
"Of course. After all, it wouldn't do for me to pretend to be someone I'm not when others here could recognize me for the impostor I would be."
There was a cutting edge to his voice that made her wince. But she couldn't back down.
"Listen to me, just hear me out, okay? The picture they ran of him slightly resembled you. He was in his mid-thirties, no wife or kids. He was also a lawyer, Noble. A lawyer. The obituary listed his credentials, where he'd graduated. It shouldn't be much harder to get a copy of his transcripts and diploma than it was to get the birth certificate. People lose things like that all the time, right?"
At Noble's stony silence, she rushed on.
"You couldn't practice in his city—even the same state would be risky. But you could take another bar and work in almost any state you wanted to. We'd have to move, at least out of Juneau, since people who know me might ask questions, but I don't care. All I care about is making a life together. A good life, Noble. I'm begging you, please, swallow your pride and bend your principles on this. If you could just do that, we could get married, have a family—"
"Shall I take this as a profession of love?"
The light of hope in his eyes made her hope too. Now he would listen, see reason. She wrapped her arms around him. "Yes. Yes. I do love you, Noble," she assured him, passionately. "It's something I can't fight anymore. We're right together, so damn right. You won, counselor. You won for us both. We can have it all. Let us have it."
He kissed her deeply. Then pulled back and shook his head. "How I have longed to hear those words from you. But, Lori, we can't have it all if we're living a lie. And that's what it would be. The truth has a way of emerging sooner or later, and it would. Perhaps out of the mouths of babes; children tend to speak without guarding their words. Would you have me hide my heritage from any offspring we might be blessed to have? Would you have me give them and you a name that is not mine to give while I deny my own?"
He placed his left hand over hers. "Come and grow old with me. The best, Lori, is yet to be."
God knew it had to get better than this. She was in misery, what she'd been sure would be one of the best days of her life, a shambles.
Lori searched for the strength to pick up the pieces and emerge with a fellow survivor: Noble Zhivago, barrister-at-law, who had won yet another case.
"Okay, Noble. We'll do it your way. Finish your studies, convince who you have to convince that you are who you are, in order to take the bar, and we'll deal with the scientists and the media. Together." She tossed the pad aside and got up, pacing the floor. "Am I crazy or just in love?" she debated, her eyes to heaven. "I'm so in love with you that I'm crazy with it. It's gonna be awful, Noble. Really, really awful. But before it gets bad, let's enjoy it while we can."
She held out her arms. Noble took an eager step forward, then stopped. In the small distance he searched her eyes and whatever he found there caused him to swallow hard. So hard Lori could see the contraction of his throat.
"What's the problem, Noble? Something's wrong."
"Indeed, Lori, something is wrong. Very wrong. A lie stands between us. It is my lie and one I've loathed. But I kept it so that I wouldn't lose you. If your love is everything you say it is—and I pray God it's so—then you will love me still, despite the ugliness of the truth."
"Whatever it is, it can't be half as bad as you make it sound." His anguished gaze told her it was. A terrible sensation came over Lori, made her scalp tingle, the hair on her nape stand on end. "Hey, it's not like you killed someone or something," she said, forcing a nervous laugh.
With a low curse, Noble lifted the mattress and withdrew a folded piece of paper.
"Before I show you a dark bit of my past, I'll have you know it also holds a promise for the future. The mine I took you to—you see, it possibly contains more than memories. If so, we can reclaim the land which rightfully belongs to me and build where my house once stood. Whether or not the means to that dream is still there, I'll take the bar. The love of law runs too deep in my veins not to."
"Okay, okay," she said anxiously. "We've got the bar thing settled, okay? But what's this business about some dark past?"
Noble fingered the paper and hesitated, causing her apprehension to mount. When he replied, his words were measured and careful. Too careful.
"Please, Lori, keep in mind that wealthy people enjoy a good degree of protection which is denied those with lesser means. We could claim our dream and some immunity from the curious as well if we were shielded by the power which comes with money. To be exact, a fortune in gold. My gold. I seized it from those who took it first. Whether or not it's still in the mine where I hid it is the only question remaining."
"The only question remaining?" she repeated as a buzzing noise filled her ears. She wanted to cover them, run from the room and pretend she hadn't heard any of this. Instead, she heard the questions tumble out, wanting to stop them and not wanting to hear his answers. "Where did you get that gold, Noble? What did you do to get it?"
He gave her the folded paper. Hands trembling, she slowly opened the aged page, and a nightmare leaped from the past and into the present.
Mallory Rush - [Outlawsand Heroes 02] Page 15
