With a swift grace, Seth reached out, taking her limp hand in his and peered deep into her eyes. Celia’s muscles coiled inside her like snakes. She made a fleeting attempt to remove her fingers, but Seth held fast.
“Ma’am, it’s a real pleasure to meet you. We’d really like for you to have lunch with us.”
His eyes held hers in an unyielding stare. Celia wished he would let go. Claudette may have been a prattler, but she wasn’t stupid. She’d figure out if Seth had known Broken Horse before, then surely he’d known Celia as well. Yet, the fact they’d been lovers, so long ago, would remain their secret, Celia mused. How convenient! Was he ashamed of what they’d shared or merely trying to hurt her still? Her heart constricted yet again in her chest. Blinking back tears, Celia surmised that he wanted to hide the fact from Claudette. She was probably the jealous sort. His face was still unreadable. Why should she care? She berated that small voice inside her that taunted her with the fact she could still have feeling for him.
“I’m sorry, but we can’t.” Foolishness, it was nothing but foolishness, which allowed a handshake to weaken her resolve. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, but we must be going.” Celia smiled her best smile, while clinching her teeth over the heated sensation his hand on hers evoked. Drawing on all her courage, Celia straightened her spine. She would take care of the business she’d come back for without his interference.
Before Celia could object further, Claudette’s laughter trilled around them and Celia glanced up. “Mr. Broken Horse, would you be so kind as to escort me to the hotel dining hall? I understand they have a wonderful chicken and dumplings on the menu today.” With her honey, sweet drawl coating each word, Claudette extended her delicate gloved hand to Broken Horse.
Celia’s stoic cousin bowed slightly and took Claudette’s hand, wrapping it about his massive forearm before heading for the inn. Apparently, the tactically shrewd, young blonde had worked her magic on Broken Horse’s mind with nothing more than a coy smile.
Such nonsense, Celia decided. Some women, using nothing more than their wiles, could lead men where they wanted. She found the ploy distasteful and knew the straightforward approach was much more to her liking.
Like a grand hostess overseeing the seating at a lavish party, Claudette gestured with her free hand toward Seth. “Would you be so kind as to see Celia to the hotel?”
For one brief instant, irritation flashed across Seth’s features before he morphed back into the gentleman cowboy once more. “Of course.” He formed his words through gritted teeth and shot Celia a warning glare. His meaning was clear, “Play along or else”. Following her cousin and Claudette, Celia was certain Seth was leading her to the gallows as he held her arm draped around his tense forearm. Chiding her emotions for being affected, Celia walked toward the hall. He was simply a man from her past, nothing more! His eyes were on her even then. Wasn’t it he who had returned her letters unopened? Wasn’t it he who hadn’t bothered to locate her. Oh, yes, it was he who was to blame for her broken heart. She owed him nothing. “You’ve got a lot of nerve pretending we just met.” Her voice waivered over the words and caused a hot wave of embarrassment to wash over her. Too involved in her own thoughts, Celia didn’t see his next move.
With the swift speed of a lightning strike, Seth snatched Celia up by the arms and maneuvered her into the nearest storefront alcove. Thoroughly caught off guard, her gasp was audible but there was no one to pay attention. Beating her fists against his chest, she winced when he gathered her wrists in his grip.
“Take your hands off me,” she hissed. Her eyes bore into his with contempt and loathing. How dare he manhandle her in such a way! Trembling with anger, Celia tried desperately to quell the restless throbbing of desire the cool contact of his leather vest caused in her veins. She would ignore the way the tanned cowhide aroused her nipples to attention through the thin cotton of her jacket.
“There are things we have to discuss and I won’t let you disappear again without the satisfaction of some long overdue answers.” His steely stare pierced her like a hot poker.
“I have nothing to say to you, not now, not ever! Now let go of me.” Yanking her wrists free, Celia busied herself by shoving the parasol between them. Attempting to open the frilly accessory, she wanted to scream when it balked.
“Yes you do. You seemed to forget you left without so much as a note. Not a damn word about where you were going or why. Don’t think about disappearing again. I’m warning you.” His voice felt like smooth bourbon washing over her but his eyes were full of rage.
His words made Celia’s hackles rise. The iron grip of his hand snaked out gripping her arm again. “You would dare threaten me?” Celia cocked a questioning brow at him. The reluctant parasol forgotten, she took a step closer, before grounding out the next words. “I haven’t heard a word from you in almost twelve years and my correspondence was returned unopened, yet you stand there and have the nerve to threaten me?”
“Get away from me, you, you…spawn of Satan!” Celia leveled her chin and wheeled away, stalking off with her half-opened parasol leaning against her shoulder. The remnants of her composure trailed behind.
The grand old double doors of the Tyler Inn were a welcome sight and Celia entered the hotel with relief. Letting the cool air of the lavish interior wrap her in comfort, she willed her nerves to calm and her sight to focus. Blinking, she looked about and took in the soothing oasis from the heat of a Texas day. Young Indian boys dressed in matching cotton shirts and pants stood on opposite sides of the lobby and worked shoofly fans circulating air around the large, opulently appointed room. The last time she’d been inside the establishment was when Seth had brought her to town over twelve years ago. She was glad to see the owners had kept the landmark in good repair. Celia noted the interior of the establishment boasted new carpets and draperies. The same plush ottoman remained situated comfortably in the center of the large welcoming lobby and sported a new red velvet cover. Coal oil lanterns hung on the walls and gave off a soft light. Stepping down into the plush carpet, Celia glanced about, noticing new pictures depicting Tyler and the town’s accomplishments hanging on the walls.
Celia’s gaze settled on Claudette near the entrance to the dining hall. Claudette positioned her body intimately against Broken Horse as she spoke to him. Celia watched as he bent his head toward her. Having Seth’s woman show so much attention to Broken Horse raised Celia’s ire once more. Four the love of all that was holy, couldn’t she be rid of Seth and the woman and be on her way?
Broken Horse spied her and moved to her side.
Celia tried for calm and offered her opinion of the old inn, “The hotel is so lovely.”
“Always has been. A landmark of sorts, I guess.” Broken Horse let his gaze wander the room in admiration.
Numerous guests strolled about the spacious lobby or relaxed in the crimson red settees situated in conversation groupings about the room. Like them, several people had chosen the lobby as their escape from the noonday heat. Celia and Broken Horse made an odd couple in the eyes of the patrons of the Tyler Inn. They most likely saw a heathen and an exotic whore.
“I left your bags at the front desk.” Offering his arm to Celia, Broken Horse proceeded to the dining hall.
“Where’s Seth?” Claudette asked as they approached.
“He had to secure your bags with the livery,” Celia lied. She had no idea where he was, nor did she care. It seemed like only a moment had passed before Claudette turned and greeted Seth. Celia stumbled. The room grew dim as the blood drained from her face. Clutching Broken Horse’s arm for support her fingernails dug into his flesh.
He pried his injured forearm from her grasp. “Celia, are you ill?” Steering her to a nearby settee, Broken Horse leaned in to examine his cousin.
Celia’s brain wouldn’t work. She could hear her cousin speaking to her, but couldn’t form words to answer him. The only person she could see was Seth walking toward her with that snide grin on his face.
Her heart rate increased and her vision blurred. There was a dreadful ringing in her ears. Gritting her teeth, she willed herself not to faint. She wouldn’t allow him an ounce of satisfaction at having been the reason she passed out.
“What seems to be the problem?” Seth’s voice was deep and reverberated with concern.
“She went limp all of a sudden,” Broken Horse, explained. “She’s still trembling. Celia, do you need some water?”
“I’ll get her some,” Seth offered.
Celia watched the room spin slowly before she closed her eyes tight against the turbulence in her stomach as well as her head.
Claudette knelt close and pulled a vial from her reticule, waving it under Celia’s nose. “This should bring her around.” She glanced up at Broken Horse. “Poor dear, the ride must’ve been too much for her. I told her she should eat something at the last stop, but she said she couldn’t bear the thought of eating anymore hardtack.”
Broken Horse shook his head. “My cousin can be headstrong, and apparently she’s grown unwise in her decision making.”
Holding her head so it wouldn’t fall off her shoulders, Celia groaned. She wasn’t in a position to defend her actions at the moment, but the words came anyway. “I’m just fine and I don’t make unwise decisions.” Gently dabbing Claudette’s handkerchief dipped in smelling salts under her nose once again, Celia silently wished she could disappear as the room spun once more.
Claudette turned her attention to Broken Horse. “How long has it been since you’ve seen her, Broken Horse?”
“Celia’s been back east for a very long time, almost twelve years. This is her first trip home.” He smiled at Claudette.
“Well, she appears to be coming around now. That’s good.” She rested her hand on Celia’s. “Your color is returning.”
It was the flush of embarrassment at her lack of control under the circumstances, Celia mused. She frowned at the fog of her brain and shook her head. The room needed to stop spinning! Closing her eyes, she prayed for calm.
“I think the salts are working. You’re going to be fine, dear.” Claudette patted her shoulder absently before turning again to Broken Horse.
Irritation replaced the better part of the fog in her brain and now the urge to take out her frustration on someone proved unmistakable. The precocious Miss Harding was a good candidate.
Unaware she was in Celia’s line of fire, Claudette continued to ask questions of Broken Horse, “You represent the Comanche in the talks?”
“Yes, I speak for Lone Eagle when we parlay with the white leaders.” Broken Horse met her gaze squarely.
Claudette nodded affably. “You mentioned Celia had been back east. Where?”
“Charleston. She went to school there and worked as a nurse.”
Celia rubbed her temple where the tension centered. “I can speak for myself, thank you,” she snapped. Pinning Broken Horse with one cool stare, Celia then turned to Claudette. “Yes, I went to the white man’s school and got an education. Amazed?” Celia cocked her head. “Or perhaps, you’re just wondering how a Comanche half-breed got accepted into a white man’s school, hum?” She winced inwardly with the sarcastic attack. Assumption was dangerous. The woman hadn’t given her reason to think Claudette saw her as nothing more than a Comanche.
Claudette’s smile never faltered as her eyes traveled from her to Broken Horse and back again in intrigued attention. “I am pleasantly surprised to be honest. It’s not every day I get to hold a conversation with not one but two Comanche. The fact you managed to learn our language and gain an education is quite spectacular.” Glancing from one cousin to another, Claudette broke the awkward silence. “Come now. I mean no harm. I’m impressed to say the least. How long were you in Charleston?”
Her blue eyes moved slowly over Celia taking in every detail with a smooth and surmising scan. It wasn’t the first time Celia had witnessed the open curiosity in someone’s eyes.
“Almost twelve years.” Guilt started to pry at her will.
“Well, my dear,” Claudette said, showing a newfound interest in Celia. “You must have some wonderful stories to tell. We would love to hear all about them. Wouldn’t we, Seth?” Claudette peered up at his ruggedly handsome face as he returned.
“Indeed we would.” Seth offered the glass to Celia, his face as unreadable as ever. “Here now.”
The contact with his fingers was like a brand she could feel to the depths of her soul. Desperation danced in her stomach. He was too close. His eyes were too blue, his face too gorgeous to believe. With the glass in both hands, she managed to produce yet another embarrassing moment by spilling water down the front of her suit.
“Oh, dear. Seth, get me a napkin,” Claudette ordered.
Celia recovered enough to dab at the water and murmur a feeble “thank you” when he handed her his own handkerchief. With a flick of a glance upward, Celia found him watching her with a keenness, which set her pulse to racing. His face was as bland as unleavened bread. With nothing more than his cool regard, Seth had the color in her face rising once more. Damn him…
Claudette peered closely at Celia once more. “Her eyes are clear now and her cheeks are pink again. She’s going to be all right.” Claudette announced and patted Celia’s arm. “She needs something to eat though.” Seeking agreement from Broken Horse, Claudette announced emphatically. “You’ll both dine with us.”
Celia’s eyes grew wide. “No!” and reached for Broken Horse’s arm. “That’s very kind of you, but…”
“We’re grateful to you both for your help, but...” Broken Horse said. Celia didn’t know if he’d read the trepidation in her face or remembered the time it would take to get to Lone Eagle’s camp, but she was grateful for his next words. “We have a long trip ahead of us still and it’s getting late.”
“Nonsense! We insist on your company,” Claudette stated firmly.
With the blonde’s emphatic response, Celia fell in behind her cousin and Claudette and let Seth lead her to the dining hall.
At the entrance, their progress ceased, halted by a male resembling a boney scarecrow. The skinny fellow wore a drab, gray suit and was emaciated enough to be a skeleton. His eyes bugged behind thick spectacles perched precariously atop his crooked nose. A light emanating from the dining hall shone off the man’s shining baldhead giving him the appearance of a freshly polished newel post. Celia recognized the disdain in his face before he said a word.
“Miss Claudette, Mr. Loflin, may I be of assistance?”
Their host glanced briefly at Celia before his neck ran out of his starched, white collar like one of the cranes she’d seen along the inlets of the Atlantic.
Celia marveled at the man’s coloring. He reminded her of one of the cadavers they’d used in school to practice on. At least the cadavers had an excuse for being so pale. Celia raised an eyebrow at the man in mild irritation.
“Mr. Loflin, Miss Haden, would you like to be seated?” The man afforded Broken Horse and her one more frigid glance.
“Yes, Alfred. That would be lovely. Thank you.” Claudette’s reply was warm and seemingly clueless. With Broken Horse at her side, Claudette moved toward the velvet ropes barring the entrance to the room.
Celia’s internal battle over Seth’s close proximity became quickly forgotten as she sensed what was about to happen. Back east, an Indian provided the curious an exotic oddity to examine and appreciate like a fine wine. But in Texas an Injun was less than dirt to most whites. Alfred was most whites.
Lifting a skeletal hand, Alfred effectively halted their progress. “I’m sorry, Miss Harding.” The man then turned his attention to Seth with a chilly demeanor. “Mr. Loflin, we don’t serve Indians.”
Celia was familiar with the tone Alfred used. Prejudice was still the order of the day in Texas. Releasing Seth’s arm, she turned for the lobby once more. It would do no good to cause a scene.
Seth’s hand snaked out and gripped hers like a vice. Wheeling her to face him, his chin
hard and unyielding, he commanded, “Wait.”
Celia was surprised. Would he argue the point?
Reluctant to stay, she stilled, offering him no resistance but watching his eyes.
Turning, Seth squared his shoulders and took a step in Alfred’s direction, making the host swallow convulsively.
His tone was pleasant with just an edge. “I’ll be paying with good ol’ American money, Alfred. I don’t think there’ll be any problem.”
He may have been trying to help, but the implication stung. She could pay her own way. Did Seth assume just because she was a woman and Comanche she couldn’t pay for her own meal? She might be overreacting, but she didn’t need his help. Celia took a step forward. “We’ll leave.” Her words came out cooler and more clipped than she’d intended. A quick glance at Seth told her he wasn’t happy with her interference as a muscle jumped in his jaw. Celia pointedly ignored him and turned to her cousin for affirmation. “Broken Horse?”
Broken Horse’s eyes remained on Alfred. “No, Celia, we’re staying.”
Celia blinked. She’d been so sure he would agree they should leave before causing a scene that she couldn’t speak. The decision had been made it seemed. Despite her misgivings, she had to admit she admired Broken Horse’s determination. He exuded the cool, stoic persona of The People. Intended to intimidate one’s enemy, his stance invited her to join him in standing up for themselves.
Glancing from Broken Horse to Seth, she made her choice and stepped in line with the men. She would discuss her displeasure with Seth later and she did intend to explain a few things to the arrogant Mr. Loflin. But for the moment, there was prejudice to defend against. Glancing back at Seth, who stood braced for a fight, Celia gathered her fortitude and nodded at him briefly.
Comanche Haven (The Loflin Legacy: Book 1) Page 2
