Wildfire Love

by Rue Allyn

  Trey reappeared with Duval’s cloak and settled it around her shoulders.

  “Oh, she’ll recover. The Chinaman was determined that I memorize everything about the poison and the antidote. I was his insurance policy, so to speak. He deliberately kept everyone in his organization in the dark and fearful of his ability to kill with a mere touch. If any of his lackeys had known the antidote, they would have used the poison against him at the first chance.”

  “That’s a good argument for living an honest life. Generally, if you’re honest, people don’t try to kill you.”

  Cerise smiled and laid her hand along Dutch’s cheek. “After all you’ve seen and done, I don’t know how you can still be naïve.”

  “I work hard at it. I won’t expect to see you again, Cerise.”

  Trey opened the front door.

  “Nor I you, chére. We won’t move in the same circles. Bon chance, Dutch.”

  “Goodbye, Madame Duval.”

  He stood beside Trey and watched San Francisco’s most notorious madam enter an elaborate rickshaw.

  “I hope she lives a long and healthy life.”

  “Why should you care?” asked Trey.

  “Because the last thing either of us should want to be saddled with is that woman’s daughter.”

  Trey threw back his head and laughed. “I don’t think that’s very likely.”

  “Likely or not, I’m going up to check on Edith.”

  • • •

  A week later, Edith plucked at the covers. She felt fine and chaffed at the restrictions placed on her. If not for Dutch she would have overridden the doctor’s orders to rest for a full two weeks. However, every time she tried to leave the confines of her room, Dutch’s temper blew. Oh he never directed his anger at her where the blame truly lay. Instead he blasted everyone within hearing for not guarding her carefully enough.

  She felt more securely guarded than when she’d been in chains on that horrid ship. She shivered at the memory. She knew that Tsung and Eileen had tended to her personal needs while she was ill, but Edith still wanted a bath. She wanted to scrub away the memory of the Chinaman’s touch, and she wanted to do it herself. Surely Dutch couldn’t object if she took a simple bath.

  The door opened, and Tsung came in bearing a tray laden with fruit and sourdough bread.

  “Good-good, you wake. Missee more boney skin than when you first come to Mista Dutch house. You eat.”

  She plunked the tray down on the table beside the bed, slathered a thick slice of bread with creamy butter, and handed the slice to Edith.

  She inhaled the scent of the warm sourdough then bit into the soft, chewy bread. She was hungry. She hadn’t realized how much. It was a good sign. The doctor had said that the return of her appetite would come with recovery. Maybe this was a good time to get what she wanted. “Tsung, I want to take a bath.”

  The Chinese woman sniffed. “Tsung take good care of you. You clean; no need bath.”

  Shameless, Edith pouted and allowed tears to brim. “I know I don’t need a bath. But it would make me feel so much better just to soak for a bit.” She had no intention of soaking. Scrubbing, hard and rough, was just what she needed. She took another bite of bread.

  Tsung looked at her, eyes wide. Whether with fear or doubt, Edith couldn’t say.

  “Mista Dutch throw temper if Tsung let you out of bed, and you no take bath in bed.”

  “Mista Dutch won’t throw temper if we don’t tell him,” Edith replied testily. She wanted a bath, and she would get one. Surely the woman who’d faced down San Francisco’s most feared criminal while she wore nothing but her skin could manage to convince someone that a bath was a good idea.

  “He find out anyway.”

  “No,” she said around a third bite of sourdough. “He won’t find out. He’ll be gone all day with Mr. Smiley to the wharf. They have to check on the cargo that just arrived and arrange for a new building where the goods can be stored and sold.” She stuffed the last of the bread into her mouth and chewed while Tsung thought over this piece of news. It was a good thing the ship had arrived early. The cargo would be the saving of Trahern-Smiley Import and Export. The fire, concentrated in the business district and shanty towns, had left everything in short supply. Any merchant with wares that hadn’t burned could set his own price. Dutch and Marcus would recoup their losses in very little time.

  “You certain Mista Dutch stay out all day?”

  “As certain as I can be.” Edith swallowed. She raised her right hand and traced an X over her chest with her left. “Cross my heart and hope … ”

  Tsung’s hand over her mouth stopped the childhood oath. “No hope to die, Missee. Bad luck. Tsung get bath for you. You eat. Back soon.” The Chinese woman fled.

  Edith picked an orange slice from the tray and smiled. She should be ashamed of herself, manipulating Tsung like that. Just as soon as the bath was finished, Edith would apologize. She stood and moved to the window, looking out into the garden behind the house. Standing was something else that had been forbidden. Only in the rare moments when she was left alone had she been able to move about the room, getting small relief for her restlessness.

  “Edith, please sit down before you fall down,” Eileen said from the doorway.

  Blushing, Edith turned to look over her shoulder. “Oops, you caught me.”

  “Please, dear.” Eileen Smiley wore a worried frown. “You’re still weak.”

  Edith sat. “No, I’m not. I’ve eaten nearly half of that huge tray full of food. I couldn’t be weak and eat all of that.”

  Eileen laughed and lost the worried look. She moved into the room. Tsung, with three other housemaids entered behind her, carrying the bath and multiple buckets of steaming water.

  “I see Tsung told you I wanted a bath.”

  “Yes, and a good thing, too. She wanted me to convince you not to have one. I don’t think she understands how you feel.”

  “And you do?”

  “I had my own troubles, before I married Smiley, so I can imagine.”

  The air of sorrow-tempered wisdom, which sat on Eileen’s shoulders and in the angle of her head, convinced Edith not to ask for details. She’d seen the same look on the faces of some of the women on the ship.

  “Bath ready,” announced Tsung. Her disapproval patent in her thinned lips and stiff shoulders.

  “Do you need any help?” asked Eileen.

  Edith shook her head. “Tsung will stand guard by the door, I’m sure, so I’ll call if I need anything.”

  Eileen smiled. “I’ll leave you to your purging.”

  “Thank you, Eileen. For the bath. And for understanding.”

  “You’d do the same for me.”

  “I’d try.”

  The door closed on her friends, and Edith shucked her nightgown. Stepping into the warm water was like stepping into sunshine. She sank down and down, submerging her head to soak her hair then rising upward, like Venus reborn. Reaching for the soap she lathered and scrubbed then lathered again, scouring every inch of her body, erasing the memory of the despised touches, replacing them with the feel of treasured freshness, hard won and well deserved.

  Satisfied at long last, she rose and took one of the towels laid out on a chair beside the tub.

  She dried her hair and shivered as the cooler atmosphere struck her skin, delighting in the clean stroke of the air.

  The bedroom door slammed. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  Uh oh. Hands tangled in hair and towel, she lifted her head. “Dutch! I didn’t expect you back so soon.”

  “I’ll just bet you didn’t.” Furious, he strode across the room and lifted her bodily from the bath.

  Her wet feet and legs dripped water all over his trousers and the floor. “Put me down. You’
re making a mess.”

  She snatched a second towel as he swung around and headed for the bed.

  “And you’re making yourself ill.”

  “I am not. I was taking a bath.”

  He dropped her onto the mattress.

  “With no one to help you.”

  “I’m perfectly capable of bathing alone.” She dried her feet.

  “Not yet. Dangit. Let me do that.” He grabbed the towel from her and dried her legs. “I can’t risk losing you again. Don’t do this to me!”

  “Don’t do this to you. What nonsense.” She pushed his hands off her legs. “I’ve done nothing to you, Dutch Trahern, except survive the worst experience of my life. And you have the gall to take offense at that.”

  “You nearly died!”

  “Stop shouting. You’re hurting my ears.”

  He grasped her by the shoulders. “I love you, and you nearly died. Don’t you understand? I can’t live without you. You’re everything to me! Don’t put yourself at risk, because when you do you put us both at risk. Seeing you in that slippery tub scared me near to death.”

  “I’m sorry you were scared.” She cradled his face in her hands then drew him down for a kiss.

  He landed solidly atop her, twisting and bringing her atop him to keep her from being crushed.

  “Mmmm. I’ve wanted you for days, almost as much as I wanted that bath.”

  “We shouldn’t.” He started to push her away.

  “Yes, we should.” She rose, straddling his hips, feeling the proof of his arousal pressing against her through his trousers. She reached for the buttons on his shirt. “I need you, Dutch Trahern. To make me whole. Please. Make love with me.”

  “Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Only by turning me away now could you hurt me.” She placed her hands on the top button of his shirt.

  “I won’t turn you away, ever. But before we make love, I have to ask you one question.”

  She studied his somber expression. “Sounds serious but go ahead.”

  “Are you hoping that I’ll make you pregnant?”

  “What kind of question is that?” She was afraid she knew but wanted him to confirm her suspicions.

  “I searched your trunk for clues to where you might have gone before I knew you were abducted.”

  “You found the copy of my grandfather’s will. The will that I’m hoping can be changed once Kiera’s home.”

  He nodded.

  Once more she studied him, trying to decipher his feelings. Knowing he’d been hurt by what he read, she questioned the strength of the love he’d claimed moments ago. As Dutch must be questioning my love for him.

  “Will my answer stop you from loving me?”

  “Nothing could stop that.”

  “Then I’ll answer that question and any others when we’re done.”

  In a blink she had his shirt unbuttoned and spread it wide with the sweep of her hands over his chest.

  He shivered. “Lord, you make me feel good.”

  She leant down to nip at his ear. “I’m hoping we make each other feel good.”

  He pierced her with his gaze. “Your wish is my command.”

  In the next instant he levered upward and twisted. She landed flat on her back, legs spread and hanging over the edge of the mattress.

  Dutch stood between her knees. His fingers worked the buttons of his trousers.

  “Let me help.” She reached out.

  “Too late.” He released the last button, dropped his trousers, and his erection sprang free.

  “No, not soon enough.” Edith grasped the thick length of him and drew him to her.

  He kissed her, fondling her breasts and teasing her womanhood. Probing her entrance but never filling her.

  She ached to feel him at her core and know that go or stay he would love her like this always. “You’re torturing me.”

  “Does it feel good?”

  “You know it does.”

  “Then stop complaining.” He filled his mouth with her breast, suckling her to silence and finally to pleading.

  “Please, Dutch.”

  “Please what?”

  Please understand. My heart’s breaking; don’t let yours break, too. Caught in passion, she could say nothing but, “Please take me now.”

  “Not yet.”

  “But … ”

  He kissed her deeply, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, inviting her to suckle him. At the same moment he reached between them, stroking her most sensitive places.

  Tension surged like floodwaters, drowning every thought in an ocean of feeling. So much feeling, she could take no more.

  Then he pressed into her, diving to the depths of her core and wave upon wave of delight burst through her. An incoherent cry thundered above the maelstrom. She clung to him, needing him with her as she succumbed to pleasure.

  • • •

  “Even after you learned about that horrid will you still love me?” she asked later. The light of day faded from the window, and she snuggled into his embrace.

  “When I read those clauses about having a child in order to inherit, I was hurt. Too hurt to be angry. I was being used in exactly the same way that Cerise Duval had used me years ago, albeit for a different purpose. Then Tsung came with the news that you’d been abducted and nothing mattered but that I should be able to see you and touch you and talk to you. Find out if you intended to use me all along or, if at some point, you changed your mind and wanted not just sex but me.”

  “You got everything right, except that I had never intended to use you or any man. I found the will’s terms degrading and demeaning. My hope is to find Kiera so that we can present a united front when we face Grandfather or his lawyers over the terms of that will. Hiring a stud was my excuse for staying in Madame Duval’s bordello so I could get information about Kiera. When you rescued me I was furious, but the longer I knew you, the less I angry I became.”

  “I won’t forgive you for wanting me.” He grinned. “But can you forgive me for spoiling your plans?”

  “There’s nothing to forgive, because my plans aren’t spoiled.”

  “True, you have a husband who will happily supply you with as many children as you want.”

  “Don’t forget we agreed to annul this marriage before I leave San Francisco.” She sat up.

  “I grew up without a father. I won’t allow that to happen to any child of mine. You can’t possibly expect me to keep that agreement when you could be carrying my child right now.” Leaning against the headboard, Dutch tugged for her to come back to his arms.

  Edith moved further away. “I can if I don’t want to remain married.”

  “But you love me. You told me so the night of the fire.” Now he sat upright.

  She stepped from the bed and reached for her gown and wrapper. “Loving you doesn’t require that I turn my life over to you.”

  “I want be your husband, not make a slave out of you.” He got out of bed and stood on the opposite side.

  “Same thing, from where I stand.” She folded her arms across her chest.

  “That’s crazy.” He shoved his hands through his hair then grabbed his trousers, shucking them on as he moved.

  “Perhaps.” She turned away. “Since we missed dinner, I’m going to the kitchen for a snack.”

  She was out the door before he could protest.

  “This conversation isn’t over.”

  She hurried down the stairs. No the conversation wasn’t over, but she’d had enough for one night. Even when he joined her in the kitchen she refused to discuss it. “Not tonight, Dutch. We both need time to think before we make decisions about our marriage.” She handed him a sandwich while she nibbled on a sliced pea
r.

  He took a thoughtful bite of the sandwich, chewed, and swallowed. “So there’s hope that you may change your mind.”

  “I don’t know, and that’s all I’ll say. Now, not another word about the marriage or you’ll spend the night on the couch.” She wiped pear juice from her fingers. She didn’t want him on the couch, but she wouldn’t be pressured to remain married. She’d come to San Francisco to avoid that dread state.

  They cleaned up together, working in quiet harmony that belied the tension strung between his desire to remain married and her reluctance.

  In bed once again, she lay in his arms staring into the night, wishing she could have both Dutch and her freedom, fearing she would have neither.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  With Dutch and Marcus once more out working to get their goods on the market as quickly as possible, Edith spent a quiet morning plying her needle with Eileen.

  The front knocker sounded.

  Eileen looked up at the same moment as Edith. “Are you expecting callers?”

  A single set of footsteps echoed in the hallway as one of the servants answered the door.

  “Not that I know of,” replied her hostess.

  Two sets of steps marched toward the parlor.

  “This gentleman is asking to see Mr. Trahern, ma’am. He has Mr. Trahern’s card.”

  Edith looked up from her mending.

  The short, beetle-browed man had not a single hair on his head. His considerable belly preceded him into the room.

  “Please sit down, Mr … ” Eileen gestured toward a cushioned slipper chair.

  “Santiago, Mrs. Smiley. Adolfo Santiago, purveyor of artwork, photographs, and frames. I found Mr. Trahern’s card on the floor of my shop. I was called away unexpectedly two weeks ago, so I missed seeing him, and … well, I mean everyone in San Francisco knows the firm of Trahern-Smiley. I hoped — that is I do not want to miss an opportunity to do business with Mr. Trahern.”

  “Unfortunately, neither Mr. Trahern nor my husband are presently at home. Since neither of them told me to expect you, I don’t know how I may help you.”

  “I can,” announced Edith. “In fact I was the one who left Mr. Trahern’s card at your shop. I hoped that you would find it and come to see him, just as you have.”