The Bad Luck Wedding Night, Bad Luck Wedding series #5 (Bad Luck Abroad trilogy)

by Geralyn Dawson

  "Very well. I'll leave you to your ease then, Mr. Delaney."

  Jake was already reaching for the whisky before his hostess cleared the door. He poured a healthy amount into a glass, then took a generous sip. The liquor left behind a smooth, smoky taste as it burned down his throat and hit his stomach. Rays of welcome warmth spread through him.

  Scooter dragged herself to his feet and whimpered. "No," Jake told her, his smile apologetic. "This is not for you. Let me get a fire going, though, and you can have the prime spot in front of it."

  Jake set about the task, and soon felt a welcome heat steal over him. Scooter plopped down to the left side of the hearth, so he took the right. "Feels good, doesn't it?" he said to the dog as he warmed his hands.

  He'd have loved to take a hot bath, but after downing a second drink, he decided to settle for a change of clothes. To that end, he removed pants, a shirt, and clean underwear from his satchel and hung them near the hearth to warm. Then, pulling a rocking chair close to the fireplace, he sat, tugged off his boots and socks, and stuck his feet toward the fire. Heat soaked into his skin and he groaned aloud. It felt so damned good.

  A few minutes later, greedy for more of that delicious warmth, he stood and shucked out of the rest of his clothes, toasting his front side first.

  From behind him, he heard Scooter start to whine. "What's the matter, girl? Why did you leave the fire? You need to stay over here if you're cold."

  Ordinarily, the dachshund would tug her way toward the sound of his voice, but this time Scooter ignored him. Curious and with his front side finally warm, Jake turned his back toward the heat and—

  What the hell?

  A filmy white figure floated where a portion of the room's plastered wall appeared to have dissolved. Jake's heart leapt to his throat. He stared at the apparition holding a glowing lantern at its side in one hand, and its... oh, God...

  It held its head in the other.

  Jake took an inadvertent step backward.

  At the same instant, the ghost let out a squeal. "Where are your breeks?"

  Jake froze in shock at the very human voice, and a number of things happened at once. The fire hissed, then popped. It spat out an ember that landed on his rear. He jumped as pain shot into his skin, then grabbed the nearby water pitcher, intending to cool the burn.

  While Jake tended his posterior. Scooter darted forward and began nipping at the ghost. In addition to the dog's barks, Jake heard a tearing sound from the direction of the wall as he doused his left buttock.

  Then the figure literally lost her head.

  It rolled toward him, its long tresses twisting like a golden rope. The pitcher slipped from Jake's grip and shattered against the stone floor. Revulsion swept over him, even as he recognized the object as nothing more than a painted wooden model. When it rumbled to a halt at his feet, he stared at it in frozen surprise until a distinctly feminine gasp grabbed his attention.

  His gaze trailed the length of white cloth that now stretched between Scooter's teeth up to the prettiest set of plump, rosy-tipped breasts he'd seen this side of the Atlantic.

  "Well now," he murmured, breathing hard. He took a step forward even as the lamp flickered off, the opening in the wall closed, and the figure disappeared.

  Damn. That was no ghost. That was a flesh-and-blood woman. And fine flesh it was.

  Bending down, he lifted the head by the hair and held it out in front of him, studying the grotesquely painted face in the firelight. What sort of trick was this? What had she been trying to accomplish?

  He stood there, naked, pulse finally beginning to slow as he stared at the wooden head dangling from his hand.

  Then a voice seemed to come from the mouth mere inches from his manhood.

  "My, my, my," said the snickering ghost. "I have long been told they grow things bigger in Texas. Now I see it is the truth."

  Jake yelped and the head hit the floor with a thud.

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  Excerpt from

  Simmer All Night

  Bad Luck Abroad

  Book One

  by

  Geralyn Dawson

  © 1999, 2011 by Geralyn Dawson Williams

  Chapter 1

  San Antonio Texas, 1883

  I want to strangle Christina Delaney.

  While the bimonthly meeting of the Historical Preservation Society continued without his attention, Cole Morgan reread the note the Delaney family's butler had slipped him moments ago and tried to hide his outrage. The message was from Rand Jenkins, the third partner in the law firm of Morgan, Delaney, and Jenkins. It read:

  Thought you and Jake would want to know. Tonight I went down to Military Plaza for supper and discovered a new chili stand serving up spice. Jake's little sister is San Antonio's newest Chili Queen. I may go back for seconds.

  Christina a Chili Queen.

  Cole could only imagine the scandal this would create. The rebellious daughter of San Antonio's first family had pulled her share of stunts in the past, but this time she had gone too far. Her behavior would fiercely upset her mother.

  "So what do you say, Morgan?" a local businessman asked. "You'll go?"

  "Go?" He jerked his head up. To Military Plaza? Did they know about Christina already? "Go where?"

  "To England, man."

  "England? Me?" What had he missed? Cole crushed the note in his fist and quickly shoved it into his pocket. "Why in the world would I want to go to England?"

  Elizabeth Delaney sighed as she smoothed a straying strand of graying hair back into her coiffure. "Cole, you haven't been paying attention, have you?"

  That quickly, he was thirteen again, mortified at being scolded by the woman he held above all others. "I'm sorry, Miss Elizabeth. I'm afraid I was distracted by a message I just received." Another sin to place at Christina's feet.

  Elizabeth's tender smile offered both forgiveness and encouragement. "Word has reached the Historical Society that one of the missing copies of our Declaration of Independence may well be in England. We suspect it was included in papers sent to the Republic of Texas's legation in London some forty-odd years ago. My father, the Earl of Thornbury, has heard a rumor that an Englishman whose family had ties with the Texas embassy in London may have it in his possession. We have unanimously chosen you as our representative to investigate this rumor and, we hope, to track the document down and bring it home."

  They what? Cole shot an incredulous look around Elizabeth Delaney's parlor, where the cream of San Antonio society sat smiling at him. "Wouldn't that be a bit like sending a chuck wagon cookie to the ballet?"

  "Don't be ridiculous, Cole." Elizabeth Delaney's elegant eyebrows dipped into a frown as she added, "You are every inch the gentleman—when you wish to be, anyway—and I am certain you will hold your own with any peer of the realm."

  "She's right," piped up the distinguished owner of a local bank. "You're a home-grown aristocrat, Morgan. You ooze that Texan-born-and-bred pride, but you do it within acceptable bounds for Polite Society. It's a talent, I say. One that will serve you well on this quest."

  Aristocrat? His father had been a gardener and his mother a laundry maid in England before immigrating to Texas. Before he could pose another protest, the butler nudged him in the back, reminding Cole of the note. I need to talk to Jake.

  But first, he needed to get out of going to England.

  He shook his head slowly, then motioned toward his best friend, Elizabeth Delaney's son and the new Chili Queen's brother. "Jake should go. The earl is his grandfather, after all, not mine."

  "No." Jake folded his arms and leaned back in his seat, eyeing Cole keenly. "I have a new client. Remember? The trial is scheduled to begin in six weeks, but I intend to ask for a delay. This case could drag on for some time. I won't be going anywhere for the foreseeable future."

  Cole scowled. He'd forgotten about the murder trial. Maybe it was kismet that he was reminded at this particular moment of the man acc
used of murdering a family member during a fit of rage. So I won't strangle Christina. I'll just make her wish I had.

  He threw a pleading look toward Jake. "Maybe this... quest... could wait until the trial is done? You know I just bought that ranchland west of town, and I'd hoped to spend my extra time during the next few months getting that operation up and running."

  Elizabeth Delaney shook her head. "I think a delay is ill-advised. This is the first good lead we've had on any of the missing copies of the Declaration since we started looking two years ago. I strongly feel we dare not waste a moment investigating the matter further."

  "You'll do fine, Cole," Jake said, a spark of mischief in his green eyes. "I agree with my mother on this one. You are the perfect choice."

  Fine. Thanks for nothing, friend.

  As payback, Cole crossed the room and offered a handshake to Jake. "Thanks for the support," he drawled, allowing just a touch of sarcasm to enter his voice as he transferred the crumpled note to the other man's hand. Then, with his back toward the august assembly in the parlor, he gazed out the window toward the rose garden his father had planted for Elizabeth Delaney. Go to England? His father would turn over in his grave.

  Samuel Morgan had cursed his native country for the last six years of his life, ever since a duke's son decided to see what it was like to "swive a breeder" and had raped Sam's pregnant wife. In the attack Rosemary Morgan lost both the child she carried and the promise of having any more. When the young lord was let off with little more than a reprimand, Sam took the question of punishment into his own hands and almost killed the bastard before gathering his wife and son and running away to Texas.

  "Cole?" Elizabeth asked.

  England. It was the last place on earth Cole wanted to visit. But Elizabeth wanted him to go. The woman who'd rescued a shattered eight-year-old at the funeral of his parents and taken him to raise as one of her own seldom asked a favor of him. Since he'd gladly lay down his life for the lady, he couldn't refuse this request. "All right," he said with a sigh, turning back to her. "I'll do it."

  At least he saw one bright side to the plan. In England, he'd be far away from Christina and her shenanigans.

  Elizabeth offered him that certain smile she reserved for special occasions, the one that made Cole feel ten feet tall.

  "Excellent. I knew we could count on you." She turned to one of the other committee members and asked, "George, do you have the information I requested containing the particulars of this rumor so that Cole may make his plans?"

  "I'm still waiting on one name, Elizabeth," the fellow answered. "I hope to have everything ready by the end of the week."

  "Very well." To Cole, Elizabeth said, "I'll see you get what you need as soon as possible."

  He nodded, suddenly looking forward to the trip in spite of himself. He hoped their information was right. Finding one of the missing parchments would be personally rewarding.

  The Republic of Texas's Declaration of Independence was a historically significant document. Unfortunately, when the capitol burned two years earlier, the lone copy the State of Texas had possessed had gone up in smoke. That's when the Historical Preservation Society of San Antonio had decided to instigate a search for the remaining four copies that had disappeared after the Constitutional Convention in 1836. Cole believed the quest a worthy one and he'd be honored to assist in bringing the document home, though he'd be doing it for Elizabeth as much as for history's sake.

  At that point, a choked-off exclamation told Cole his friend had finally read the note. Cole watched as Jake's complexion went red, then white, then red again. Obviously, he liked his sister's new avocation about as much as Cole did.

  Watching Jake Delaney's temper build took the fire out of Cole's own anger. She was Jake's sister, after all, not his, despite the fact they'd been raised in each other's pockets. Let Jake take care of the termagant. He'd been happy enough to abandon Cole to an unscheduled sea voyage.

  As the meeting's discussion turned to a question of what should be done about the deteriorating condition of the Alamo, Jake quietly rose from his seat and slipped out of the house. Cole ducked out behind him. This confrontation between brother and sister was one he didn't want to miss.

  "I can't believe her!" Jake exclaimed when Cole caught up with him halfway along the stone path to the carriage house. "What was she thinking? How could she do this? She's a Delaney. Delaneys have a reputation to uphold."

  "Maybe you need to clarify what kind of reputation," Cole suggested.

  Jake made a growling noise low in his throat.

  All of a sudden, Cole wanted to laugh. With Jake taking responsibility for his sister, the burden was off his own shoulders, and he could see past his immediate anger. How typical for Christina to pull a stunt like this. They should have known the last few months of relative peace wouldn't last.

  "Look, Jake," Cole said, hoping to ease the tension a bit before they reached the square. If Jake lost control in public, he'd turn a scandal into a Scandal. "It could be worse. She didn't steal a horse or rob a train. She didn't run off with a patent medicine salesman."

  Jake appeared to find the first two items soothing. The third obviously got his goat. He knifed a glare at Cole. "We don't know that. You know who's in town, hawking his wares on the plaza? Dr. J. L. Lighthall, otherwise known as the Diamond King."

  "The Diamond King," Cole repeated. "Isn't he the one who pulls teeth?"

  "With lightning dexterity. Women are obsessed with the talent in his hands. He's a handsome scalawag and flashy dresser, and he gives a nightly speech from a gilded chariot that resembles a circus wagon while his minions walk through the crowd selling Lighthall's so-called medicine."

  So Chrissy had been spending her evenings listening to this charlatan's drivel? Cole heaved a disgusted sigh. Apparently Christina Elizabeth Delaney had managed to do something exceptionally stupid this time. Considering her vast experience with idiotic acts, surpassing previous efforts took some doing.

  The girl had been a pest all her life. She used to drive him and Jake crazy when they were children, trailing at the older boys' heels from the day she learned to walk. By the time she'd turned six, they'd dubbed her "Bug."

  Somewhere between the age of nine and twelve her adulation for her brother and his friend had evolved into competition toward them. That's when the more serious trouble started. Dressed as a boy, she once entered a horse race and ran against them both. Beat them, too. He and Jake had had a hard time living that one down. Then there was the time she played that outhouse prank on the headmaster of Royal Oaks Boys' School and set Cole and her brother up to take the blame. Such incidents went on for months until the night she followed them to the Gentleman's Club and got an eyewitness education of what the world's oldest profession was all about.

  One good thing came out of that night, however. The Delaneys sent Christina back east to finishing school, and they'd all enjoyed three years of relative peace prior to her return.

  Those Yankees had finished Christina, all right, Cole thought darkly. A tomboy had traveled north. A certified flirt made the trip back south. Over the course of the past five years since coming home to San Antonio, she'd broken seven marriage engagements, innumerable hearts, and now, by the looks of things, the backbone of her brother's patience.

  Cole didn't ask whether Jake wanted his help. Instead he climbed into the shotgun seat of the coal-box buggy and waited for his friend to take the reins.

  After a good five minutes of brooding silence while he drove toward the plaza, Jake started talking. "I can't believe her. Ever since Pa died, she's acted wild as a turpentined cat. Why does she have to be so different from other girls? Did my family make it happen? Did the Yankees do it to her? What do you think, Cole?"

  What Cole thought was that he should choose his words carefully. Instead, as usual, he was blunt. "She's wild because you've let her get away with it. The girl has played you like a hoedown fiddle since the day we buried your father. You should hav
e taken her in hand years ago, Jake."

  "I know," he acknowledged with a sigh. "I just felt so guilty."

  "You shouldn't. Your father sent her off to school, not you. She shouldn't have followed us to the whorehouse."

  "You know how close she and Father were. She missed sharing the last three years of his life because I told him what she did."

  "No." Cole resisted the urge to slap some sense into his friend and instead replied in a patient tone. "No, she missed sharing the last years of your father's life due to her own actions. You are not the responsible party, Jake. She is."

  He shrugged, but sat a little taller in his seat. They rode in silence another few minutes until they passed one of the local Catholic churches. Cole's grin was wry as he cocked his head toward the front doors. "I still say it could be worse. She could be at Frank Simpson's wedding causing a scene."

  Jake shut his eyes and shuddered at the thought.

  One of Chrissy's old fiancés was getting married tonight. Cole wouldn't put it past her to waltz into the church and tell ol' Frank she'd changed her mind and wanted him after all. The fool would take her back, Cole knew, even at the altar in front of the priest.

  Because Christina Elizabeth Delaney was beautiful. Punch-in-the-gut gorgeous. Cole wasn't exactly certain when the gangly, gawky girl had been transformed into a well-rounded woman with thick, fiery hair, warm malachite eyes, and full, pouty lips that begged a man's kiss. All he knew was that one day he looked up and there she was, breathtaking and alluring.

  It had been a disconcerting moment for Cole.

  Luckily, his knowledge of her true nature kept him thinking straight. He'd realized long ago that a good disposition in a woman was much more important to a man's happiness than physical beauty. Christina's own mother was responsible for the lesson. To Cole's mind, Elizabeth Delaney was as near to perfection as a woman could be. She was charming, witty, gracious and graceful. Her manners were impeccable, her social skills unsurpassed. She was a Lady with a capital L and Cole had honored and respected her all his life. He hoped when he was ready to marry he could find a woman much like Elizabeth Delaney.