by Avery, Joan
Katherine could not catch her breath or her wits. Viscount? It was the last thing she had expected. While the stranger outside had barely left her thoughts, she was totally unprepared to come face to face with him.
Winded from the dance, she was still unable to speak as the viscount bent slightly to acknowledge the introduction. The air stirred and she could smell him. The impact of the soft warm scent of hair balm and cologne, of fine wool and starch, was startling. It made his presence felt in a new tangible way.
He was even more handsome than she had thought. The man looked as if he had just stepped in from the London social season. He moved with a certain elegant grace that was as natural to him as his sun-bronzed skin.
It was no accident then—their encounter outside. Instinctively, she knew that now. But was it fate, or something planned?
The viscount seemed to take in every aspect of her hair and costume appreciatively. His eyes betrayed a hunger that sent a rush through her. She spoke to stop her imagination from carrying her into danger. “My lord, it is a pleasure.”
She extended her hand and he took it, enfolding it in the long elegant fingers she had admired earlier. The rough calluses on the pads of his fingers surprised her, but only for a moment. The warmth of his breath on the back of her hand and the whisper of his lips across her sensitive skin immediately drove the thought away. He looked back up at her. It was almost as if he were teasing her.
“Miss Barker, the pleasure is all mine, I assure you.” His voice was like honey, deep and rich. It coated each word and left them hanging deliciously in the air.
“We were just discussing metallurgy.” Benjamin Ward laughed as if it were a private joke. “Perhaps he might consult with you on the terrible grime that is a part of our life here.”
Kate could feel the heat in her cheeks. It was not a subject she found comfortable discussing, certainly not with this stranger. She had tried over and over to prevent the family’s business from adding to the filth that hung over the city of St. Louis, but she was at a loss. “I have tried, but we have yet to come up with a suitable solution.”
“Perhaps if soft and inferior coal weren’t used in the smelting process, the city might end up with a more habitable environment.” The viscount’s deep voice floated across the small space that lay between them, wrapping itself around her once more. She was only vaguely aware of what he was saying.
“Ah, Katherine. Be careful of the viscount. He seems to know of what he speaks.” The attorney bowed slightly and added, “And on that, I will leave you young people to yourselves. If you’ll excuse me.” The man exchanged a nod with the viscount before he headed toward the refreshment table. She watched him go, slightly puzzled.
“I gather we are to be left to our own devices.” His words were barely above a whisper, but deep and suggestive. He stood slightly behind her. His breath warmed the bare flesh of her shoulders. The heat of his body ran along her entire length.
His voice coated her anxieties until they were nonexistent. There was only this man. This mesmerizing, tantalizing man.
She turned to him and smiled. “Would you care to dance, Lord Montgomery?” If he was at all surprised at the impropriety of her invitation, he did not show it. He returned her smile with a devastating one of his own.
“I make a point of never turning down invitations from beautiful women.”
“That must be a terrible burden.”
“On the contrary, Miss Barker, it is one of the great pleasures of life, and tonight it is exceptionally pleasant.”
His palm on the small of her back was solid, warm and reassuring. She placed her hand in his and she was swept away, not just by the music but by something magical in the air. She barely noticed the admiring glances of the crowd. She was aware only of this man who dominated her thoughts without effort.
He was the kind of man she and Lizzie had whispered about in their adolescent dreams. The kind of man she, forever practical, had warned Lizzie did not exist.
At least he had never existed for her. Lizzie claimed to have found him in her husband, Stephen Worth, but Lizzie had been mistaken. And it had cost Lizzie her life.
What if Katherine was mistaken as well? What price would she pay?
The music stopped and her hand went to the gold, heart-shaped locket around her throat. It was all she still had of Lizzie’s. Perhaps, just for tonight, she would approach life as Lizzie always had, with exuberance and trust.
“Would you care for a glass of punch, Miss Barker? You look flushed.”
“Yes, that would be lovely.”
He kept his touch light, but his long fingers pressed an intimacy to her upper arm that was as unfamiliar as it was exciting. She saw the glances of the other guests and could understand their speculation. What was happening surprised her as much as it did them.
He offered her a drink and fell silent, studying her. She felt her color rising.
“You make a breathtaking angel.”
“You’re too kind, my lord.”
“Kindness, I assure you, has nothing to do with reality, Miss Barker.”
It was a strange comment.
“I am supposed to be a fairy. At least my son was convinced, but then two-year-olds have much more faith than adults.”
“You have a child?”
“Yes, his name is Andy.”
“I’m sorry, I was mistaken. I thought you were unmarried.”
Her heart dropped. She did not want him to think her married. She hurried to explain. “Really, he’s my sister’s child. My sister died shortly after he was born.” Then she caught herself guiltily. “But he is my son and I am his mother as surely as a natural mother and child would be.”
“He is lucky to have such devotion.” He reached up and smoothed a strand of her hair away from her flushed face. The intimacy startled her.
“Is the child’s father also dead?”
“I don’t know, nor do I care. We heard nothing from him after my sister’s death. He was a Remittance Man, a fortune hunter. He only married my sister for her money.”
“You are quite sure about him. You’ve never met him?”
“No.”
“You made no effort to find him after your sister’s death?”
“No. I did what I thought was best for Andy, my lord. And I have no doubts about my actions.”
“I admire your conviction, Miss Barker. I find that I myself am not always as pure in my motivations.”
When he spoke again, his smile was gone. “I have always wanted a son.” A darkness shadowed his face. It was a fleeting thing and yet it was as clear to her as if the pain had been written in bold letters. It touched her deeply.
“Perhaps someday you will have one.”
He only smiled. “I have heard much of your new bridge over the Mississippi. Designed by Mr. Eads, I believe. Will you show it to me?”
She would show him her soul if he asked.
“It would be my pleasure.”
He took her arm once more, this time by the elbow, and together they passed through the front doors of the Exchange Hall. He stopped on the top step that led from the entrance down to Pine Street. It was a limbo of sorts between the ball and the parade celebrations.
He turned her slowly toward him and lifted her shawl that had slipped down. His warm hands glided over her bare arms as he slowly returned it to her shoulders. It was more than a kindness. It was a caress.
They stood scant inches away from each other. The festivities tumbled loudly around them. Laughter and shouts rang out from costumed revelers. The smell of the torches left the distinct, acrid odor of pitch in the balmy night air.
But she was aware only of the warmth of his hands.
A cascading arc of brilliant white light lit up the night sky. It was a blinding light, a light that could show the flaws of the soul. She looked for some in this man and she saw none.
They stood there in wordless communication. Would he kiss her? She suddenly became afraid she might k
iss him.
“The bridge is to the left, my lord.” She looked away, flustered.
They descended the steps to the street and he guided her expertly past the partiers. Their silence created a void in the ribald sounds that filled the air, and their unspoken thoughts left a quiet trail among the revelers.
They reached Washington Street and Kate indicated that they turn right. Within a block, they were on the bridge. They walked along it until they were well past the majority of celebrants. She used the time to master her thoughts and regain her wits.
Perhaps it had been a mistake coming out here alone with him. Perhaps he was nothing more than a rake. But she trusted her instincts; this man was not a womanizer. He held too much pain inside him.
Normally hidden by a grim covering of sooty smoke, tonight St. Louis was aglow in the western sky. Torchlight and fireworks made it appear wondrous…a magical phantasm.
A sudden streak of white light burst into a golden crown, and the reflection shimmered beneath them in the black water of the Mississippi. The image wavered as the current pulled the muddy water restlessly on.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked.
“Yes, it is.”
There was no urgency to talk. The bridge always calmed her. It was always so peaceful here.
“It reminds me of London.” His voice wound itself around her once more, like a warm blanket against the evening’s chill. In the darkness, it did more than just cloak her, it seeped through the pores on her skin, finding a touchstone deep inside and calling up an unbidden response…a new warmth at her core.
“Have you been here long?” She spoke to break the spell she was under.
“In the States?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve been here many years. I’m a metallurgist. I studied under Alexander Parkes at Cambridge. I was enlisted by several large mining companies to develop ways to mine the remaining silver in the played-out veins of western Colorado.”
“Colorado?” Her interest peaked and she turned to face him.
“Yes.”
“Perhaps you met my sister. She lived in Denver for several months.”
“I haven’t been in Denver for several years.”
“You would know if you had seen her. You see she is…was…very beautiful. Her features were more classic than mine, and her hair was a wonderful shade of chestnut and much less curly.” She fiddled nervously with a stray lock of her own riotous curls. She hurried on. “She was petite and her personality much more suited to company than mine, I’m afraid.”
He turned toward her. What she saw in his eyes made her heart jump. He took a step forward, closing the remaining space between them. His hand came up and the warmth of his palm passed over her cheek like a caress. He ran his thumb lightly over the corner of her mouth.
“I would never forget anyone as beautiful as you.”
Her heart was beating wildly. His thumb ran like a feather over her lips, tracing their outline, teasing their fullness. What was he doing to her? She was losing all reason.
He slipped his hand lower until his thumb lay just beneath her chin, his fingers splayed against her bare neck.
He was standing so close he radiated heat, making the cool evening uncomfortably warm. She raised her hands until they lay against the fine starched linen of his shirt. She could feel his heart racing as fast as her own.
The slightest hint of brandy was on his breath, sweet and pungent. The strength of his arms made her feel vulnerable.
“Who are you, Katherine Barker?”
She didn’t understand. She was confused. Confused by his nearness. What did he want to know? She was simply Katherine Barker—nothing more and nothing less.
But there was something else. Something she had felt from the beginning. He knew what it was. His question hinted as much. She needed to know.
“Look what we have here. Two lovebirds, it seems.” Raucous laughter filled her ears. Kate tore herself away from him.
She turned away to look out across the water once again, her back to the new arrivals on the bridge. She was suddenly ashamed of the liberties she had allowed him.
“Don’t mind us.” One of the two men, this one costumed as a jester, planted a wet kiss on the brazen woman in his arms. The couple laughed drunkenly. “Come on now…no need to stop. We’ve just come to join you.”
The viscount moved protectively behind her, shielding her from the leers. He leaned toward her and his breath carried his whispered words.
“Perhaps I should take you home.”
She couldn’t speak. She simply nodded.
He escorted her home in silence. On her doorstep he bowed quite formally and left her. She stood there for a long moment watching him disappear into the darkness. What had she wanted from him? She wasn’t really sure. She only knew that something deep inside her had been left unsatisfied.
…
It was late the next day after another meeting with his attorney that the Viscount Montgomery’s long strides hit the ground solidly, carrying him closer and closer to Katherine Barker. What a fool he’d been last night. What insanity had driven him to such stupidity? He had only intended to meet her, get the upper hand in what was about to happen. How had he let her seduce him?
The pale softness of her skin. The radiance of her hair. The innocence of her smile. It was all so familiar. He had forgotten for a moment. And he would regret his indiscretion for a very long time.
He was angry with himself and with this woman. His resentment now threatened to strip him of what little civility he had left. For two long years, she had enjoyed what was his. Now that he had met her, he knew she would not respect his claim. She would fight him to the end. And he had reason enough to fear she might succeed. She could keep from him the last thing on earth that gave him hope. The very thing that had kept him alive over the past two horrific years. He wouldn’t let her do this, and he had little time to waste.
…
All day, Kate had waited. He had to come. She was certain he would. It was just a matter of when.
She had persuaded Andy to accompany Fiona to the celebratory fair without her. Now it was growing late and they would be returning shortly.
She stood in the library searching for anything to distract her from this obsession with the handsome viscount. She jumped when the door chime rang. She took a moment to settle herself before she headed toward the front of the house. Her heels made sharp snicks on the polished oak floor. The noise reverberated within her as the trembling in her hands reached her heart.
She recognized him even though his image was distorted by the cut glass of the sidelights. Now her heart raced and a peculiar fluttering made her aware of her stomach.
She smoothed her hands over her hair and briefly touched her fingertips to her lips. She had wanted him to kiss her. She smiled. It was something to look forward to. She took a deep breath and opened the door.
It was the viscount, but his appearance had changed dramatically. He was dressed all in black once more, but this time they were not the clothes of an English gentlemen. They were the clothes of a cowboy—as out of place on her refined doorstep as a bull itself would have been. His shoulders appeared even wider than they had last night in formal clothes. This evening, he was tall and lean, all muscle and sinew.
He took a step forward, and strangely she felt her own muscles tense. She took a half step back into the lamp-lit foyer, chiding herself even as she did.
The viscount removed his broad-brimmed hat quite formally. In the late light, his hair was dark, coal black. It curled softly over the collar of his chambray shirt.
There was an almost unnatural stillness about him. He stood, hat in hand, for a long time. He appeared in no hurry to speak.
She shifted uncomfortably. His stillness disturbed her. “What a surprise, Lord Montgomery.”
“Good evening.” The traces of his accent gave an edge to the deep and rich syllables. The effect drew her into his stillness against
her will. A frisson of fear raised gooseflesh. There was something between them. Something as yet unspoken. Something that would explain it all. And she was afraid it would change things forever.
She forced herself calm.
It was his eyes that had unnerved her. In their onyx depths, her own shimmering reflection mocked her. There was no warmth there.
If he felt any desire for her, it was now well masked. What she saw was something that resembled resentment. Warm blood rushed to the surface of her skin. This was not the man she had met last night. Had last night been a game? An exercise in seduction?
“What a pleasure it is to see you again.” Her voice was lighter than she wished—lighter and breathier.
“That remains to be seen, Miss Barker.”
Fear once more took hold. The warmth of the day, sweet and promising, was gone, replaced by emotions that were ominous and threatening.
“You wanted to see me, my lord?” This time her question came in a whisper. She fought the urge to step back and close the door—to shut the man out. She didn’t want to hear what he was about to say.
“Shall we dispense with formalities, Katherine?”
He used her given name familiarly. It came out laced not with desire but with something else, something cold and foreboding. What was happening?
“If you wish.”
“Forget the title. It is my older brother’s by right.”
She waited, barely breathing. It was a long moment before he spoke.
“My name is Worth…Stephen Worth.”
No! Her mind screamed a denial. He must have seen her recognition, for he added almost as an afterthought.
“I’ve come for my son.”
Chapter Three
“You bastard!”
She didn’t care who heard her. It was the correct word to describe this kind of man. She had been right from the beginning, from the first time Lizzie had written her from Denver to tell her of Stephen Worth. It was too cruel. She had been lied to, used. How could he have done this to her? Damn him.
He was a Remittance Man—a ne’er do well, a fop, and a fortune hunter—a man who lived on the largesse of others because of his own unscrupulousness. And as sure as if he had pulled the trigger himself, he had killed Lizzie. He would never get his son. Never.
