by Jenna Kernan
His fingers rested on her bare throat and then glided upward until he’d taken control of her jaw. The contact caused her breasts to ache, bringing her nipples to tight, aching beads. She’d never experienced anything like this and gasped in surprise.
He lifted her chin and held her. She unveiled her eyes and stared at him, reading the hunger burning like a banked fire. His lips were close to hers, but he paused there, his warm breath fanning her cheeks. She gave a little moan of yearning. Why didn’t he kiss her?
“My name,” he breathed.
“Sam, oh, Sam, please kiss me again.”
His lips descended in an act of possession. His tongue brushed her mouth, seeking entrance once more. She opened her lips and he drove forward, his tongue gliding along hers. He tasted of brandy and smelled of leather. She moaned again at the shot of desire that stabbed downward to the juncture of her thighs. His kiss deepened, rousing a throbbing ache like nothing she’d ever experienced.
His hands divided, one heading north to delve into her hair and cradle the back of her head. He controlled her and brought her forward so her aching breasts pressed against the wonderful hard muscle of his chest. The other hand moved south over the whalebone stays of her bodice and down to her bottom, where he gripped her and drew her forward, until her soft mount connected with the long hard erection. The contact was like touching fire. She jumped back.
He kept her from total escape, letting her draw away only far enough so he could see her face. His gaze seemed unfocused and his breathing came in ragged pants. When his attention snapped to her again, she saw the hunger as clearly as she felt her own.
“I can’t get enough of you. Kiss me again,” he ordered.
The order, so similar to what her husband would have said, washed cold over her. What was she doing? She wasn’t one of his bar floozies to be pressed up against the wall of some alley. Not yet anyway.
Kate arched away as he pulled her forward, pressing her hands at his shoulders and straightening her arms.
“Release me, Mr. Pickett.”
He did, surprising her so much that she staggered backward. He caught her before she could fall. She found herself pinned to his chest again, with her hands gripping his wide shoulders, feeling the hard temptation of his muscles and the uncomfortable lump of her reticule pressed between them. His muscles tensed beneath her fingers as he gripped her waist. She did not yield to temptation, this time, and stepped briskly away. He let her go.
“Business first, then,” he said. “All right.” He raked his long fingers through his thick hair and exhaled. When he looked back at her, he still appeared eager.
She sat in the opposite side of the tête-à-tête chair, taking advantage of the sinuous curve of wood and padding to force a separation between them. If he chose to sit beside her, he would have proximity, but they would face in opposite directions and, more importantly, be contained by the firm barrier dividing them. She clutched her bag on her lap and waited for him to join her.
He grinned at her but did not seat himself. Instead, he chose to lean against a ball-and-claw-foot table just before her. He folded his arms across his chest. The effect was to give her a startling view of his bare flesh at the gap of his shirt. Her heart now seemed to be beating in her throat.
“What are your expectations?” she whispered.
His smile spoke volumes. “Come with me on this trip to Dutch Flats, talk to the miners, warm my bed.” He crossed his legs at the ankle. “Take meals with me when I’m free.”
Here was a chance to strike. She lifted her eyebrows and tried to look bored. Her flushed, hot cheeks undoubtedly undermined her efforts to affect aloofness. “Anything else?”
“Should you be party to my business dealings, I’ll insist on discretion.”
“Agreed. And your offer?”
He smiled. “All the dresses you can buy, shoes, hats, carriage, driver, apartment, servants.”
Just like Luke, he had not offered her an allowance. She opened her mouth to correct the omission, to tell him she needed eight hundred dollars outright, but was seized by a cold panic.
“Jewelry?” she asked, hoping he would want to show her off in something valuable and that he would not be quite as vigilant as Luke had been.
He laughed. “When I feel inclined.”
“I should like something to seal the bargain, something that will assure me that you value our agreement.”
His smile turned cold. “So would I.”
She ignored this and forged on, wondering where she found the audacity to be so bold. “As I said, I cherish my independence—highly. This arrangement would have to be extremely tempting for me to entertain it. In addition, may I say that my reputation will most certainly suffer from this liaison.”
“I should doubt it, as it is less than sterling.”
She narrowed her eyes. “In any case, I will need to see to my own future when you grow tired of me.”
His smile vanished. “Are you so certain I will tire of you?”
Now he was frightening her. Was this her next tyrant? Her confidence faltered. “I assume so. Isn’t that the way with mistresses?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never had the notion to take one—until now.”
He stunned her speechless with this announcement. What made her any different than the others? Was it her reluctance that tempted him? That would not last much longer. Once the contract was struck, he would have what she had withheld. She was certain he would be disappointed. Luke always was.
Sam lifted one hand to rub his jaw as he studied her. “Well, then I’ll pick out a piece to show you how much I value this arrangement. Pearls? Or do you prefer diamonds?”
She understood his calm now and her heart sank. “You are making fun of me.”
“I’m not. I’d love to dress you up.”
Her husband had loved that, too. It helped him distract the miners while he fast-talked them into buying claims he never owned. She was to be bait again. How she hated herself.
“I will accept your offer under certain conditions,” she said, glancing at her bloodless fingers clenched in the fabric of her reticule.
He unfolded his arms and clasped the edge of the table at either side of his lean hips. She looked at the size of his hands, imagining them striking her across the cheek, and lost her nerve again.
He raised a brow at her hesitance. “Don’t even think about denying me, Kate.” He was on his feet again, making her feel small and vulnerable.
She leveled her gaze. “We both know what you want. But despite what you think of me I am not some common…”
He lifted a hand. “Don’t say it.”
She almost laughed at his unwillingness to hear her speak the truth, but said nothing further.
“I’ll not misuse you. I’ll see to your needs.”
Her only need involved a separate bedroom and eight hundred dollars in ready cash.
“You’ll sleep in my private car or apartments I provide for you. No one else will so much as touch you, I swear.” He held his arms out now, as if offering himself to her. “And at severance, I’ll buy you a house and provide a settlement to compensate for your sullied reputation.”
She was so shocked she did not know what to say. He took her silence for hesitancy.
“The amount will depend on the length of our liaison and will be generous.”
She stood and extended her gloved hand. “Very well then, Mr. Pickett. We have a bargain.”
He clasped her palm to his, but instead of shaking, used it to spin her in a half circle, standing close, leaning in. His lips found her bare neck. She could not keep herself from leaning back against him as his kisses turned her body liquid. She felt the wetness between her thighs again and her eyes popped opened in surprise. What was this?
She leaned away from his sinful kisses only to feel his hot breath fan her moist skin.
His hand came around her, pressing the corset stays into her stomach to bring her bottom into contact with h
is hips. His arousal was large and unmistakable even through her many petticoats.
“Come upstairs with me.”
Her body stiffened. She was not ready. The fear nearly blinded her. She glanced toward the closed door.
He must have read the change in her, for he drew away and turned her to face him, his expression strained.
“You don’t trust me.”
“Have you given me reason to?”
His eyes narrowed and her breath caught. She had overstepped, questioning his credibility.
He did not shout or throw something at her, as Luke might have done. Instead, his mouth quirked in a half smile.
“I’ll send you something this evening.”
Her eyes widened in understanding. He thought her hesitance was over his failure to complete the preliminary step in their bargain. She nearly laughed at the ease with which she would escape, until she realized how mercenary he must believe her to be. Perhaps she was, for she would not be here at all if he did not have what she needed.
She took advantage of his assumption. “I am sure you are a man of honor.” She could not quite get that last word out, knowing that he had, in effect, purchased her services and that an honorable man would never place a lady in such a situation. “But a single woman must protect herself.”
“Shall we seal the bargain?” he asked.
Kate’s eyes widened and he laughed, then turned to a cabinet and retrieved a whiskey bottle and poured a drink. He lifted the bottle and his eyebrows simultaneously in offer.
“No thank you.”
He stared at her with dark eyes over the rim of his shot glass then tipped it back, downing the liquor in one long swallow. Why did the sight make her mouth go dry?
He was so much like Luke, tall and strong, rich and lusty. But he was different, too, surprising her by not doing as she expected.
He blew out a breath and slapped the glass down with unnecessary force. She flinched.
Did Sam have a mean streak, too? The notion stole her desire, draining it away like water through a sieve.
She was experienced enough to know that a bed and a horizontal position were not necessary for coupling. It was one of the first lessons her brutal husband had taught her. She began to tremble.
“Make arrangements for your dresses at any shop you like and send me the bill. Go to a big one that’s got things on hand and buy at least one riding outfit.”
She nodded her acceptance of this, still unable to believe she had obtained a temporary reprieve.
“I’ll see you at the train station day after tomorrow at eight in the morning. Don’t wear any bloomers.”
With that edict, he turned and stormed from the room, nearly throwing the pocket door off of its track as he passed.
What in the name of heaven had she done?
Chapter Six
K ate returned home after the long walk from Sam Pickett’s gilded palace, hot, thirsty and demoralized.
She found her aunt in the kitchen, as always. “Did you see your Mr. Pickett?” Aunt Ella thumped the kettle back on the stove.
“I did.” She looked about. “Where’s Phoebe?”
“Back steps, feeding the stray cat. Tell me about your visit. He’s such a handsome man.”
He was, devilishly so. His wide shoulders and muscular frame made her fingers twitch to touch and explore.
“And he’s rich,” said Ella. “Owns a whole gold mine, the biggest one. Isn’t that right?” Ella stroked Kate’s cheek. “And look at you, pretty as a flower growing on a dung heap.”
“I just want to stay here with you and Phoebe.”
“Oh, nonsense. It’s been over a year. And he fancies you, Kate. I know you must think me ancient, but I do recall the joys of a marriage bed.” Ella met her astonished stare. “Clearly.”
Had she said joys? It did not feel like joy with Sam, more like torment, an aching need unfulfilled.
“Auntie, was it really a joy, your, um, marriage?”
Ella’s face brightened, making her look years younger. “Oh heavens, yes. My Henry was very good to me. My one regret is that I could not give him a child before he was taken from me. He so wanted to fill this house.”
The light left her face. Ella had been a long time without her husband, but she refused to marry again, insisting Mr. Maguire would one day return to her from the sea. Shanghaied men did sometimes come home, but most had done so long ago. It was another reason Ella would not leave this house.
Ella dabbed at her eyes with a lace-trimmed hankie kept tucked in her apron pocket.
They had to stay here.
Ella stroked her cheek. “But, of course, I have both of you. A blessing.”
Many women would find it a burden to take in two poor relatives, especially when one of them was sightless. Kate felt the jab of guilt, as she always did when thinking about Phoebe’s condition. Kate knew full well what awaited Phoebe if anything happened to her—the asylums. Between Kate and her aunt they had created a home for Phoebe. But it was a far cry from what Kate wanted for her sister.
She longed to send her sister to a proper school, where she could learn to do more than knit socks. She had even found one, the Perkins School for the Blind in Boston, Massachusetts. But they could not afford the tuition, let alone the expense of the passage to travel around Cape Horn.
Kate rose and hugged her aunt who seemed surprised but then patted her back.
“Thank you,” said Kate, drawing back.
“Whatever for?”
“Loving us.”
“Oh, that’s not hard to do. And you know there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”
Kate felt the same. It was she who had agreed to be his.
Ella beamed. “If Mr. Pickett wants to court you, I say good for him.”
Kate grasped Ella’s hand and drew a breath, preparing to tell her the truth.
“Auntie, Mr. Pickett is not courting me. He has asked me to be his mistress.”
She drew back. “What?”
“And I’ve agreed.”
Her aunt gasped. “But why? Why would you agree to such a…” She stilled as her eyes grew round. A moment later, Ella burst into tears. “I forbid it.”
“It’s done.”
It fell to Kate to comfort her, assuring and reassuring.
Sometime later the bell at the front entrance gave a resounding ding-dong!
That brought Kate to the door. The deliveryman had a small package for her. She signed for it and then tore open the brown paper. Inside was a large midnight-blue velvet box. Her heart jumped as she looked for a card but found none. The man must have ridden at breakneck speed to a jeweler to have this to her so quickly.
Ella came into the hallway as Kate flipped open the hinged lid revealing a necklace displayed on a creamy satin platform.
Ella gasped.
Kate stared down at the multistrands of gold filigree punctuated with seven delicate rosettes. Such a romantic piece took her breath away. She loved it on sight.
Kate snapped the lid closed and handed the box to Ella. “Take the most you can for it and bring it to the bank.”
“But he most certainly will want to see you wear it.”
“It’s mine now, to do with as I like.” Kate gripped her aunt’s hands as she clutched the box. “Promise me.”
“Yes, I will.”
“I have to see about a wardrobe. I only have one day.”
“One! Impossible.”
“I fear so.”
Kate went to one of the better establishments in the city. How ironic that she should again be standing on the platform waiting for the seamstresses to hem the skirts, when just two days ago she had been the one upon her knees.
She did not allow herself to smile. She knew that each one of the lovely confections would cost her dearly. And she also knew the gossip that would begin the instant she told them who would be paying the bill. It would not be hours before the entire city would know that Mr. Pickett had a paramour.
It took great effort for Kate to stand straight and keep her chin up when it seemed the weight of the world was collapsing on her narrow shoulders.
One day, one night, and then she would be his.
Cole stood with Sam at the station platform. “I’ve got to hand it to you. You’ve wrangled up more investors than I could find in a month.”
“Cause I know where to look and it ain’t in church.” Sam never missed an opportunity to give Cole a dig about his turnabout. He’d lost his partner for the hours after sunset since his marriage, and Saturday nights were just not the same. “I’m telling you, those miners up at Dutch Flats will understand the advantages better even than the shopkeepers. Supplies will be cheaper and the transport of their gold much safer.”
“You don’t have to sell me.”
“I tell you I talked to a citrus grower who thinks he’ll be able to ship oranges all the way to New England before they rot?”
Cole looked doubtful. “Maybe.” The conversation lulled as the engine chugged into the depot. The freight cars were followed by two private rail cars Sam had shipped around the Horn all the way from Pennsylvania. The engine’s breaks squealed and steam hissed from beneath the massive wheels.
Cole took up the conversation. “I heard from Washington on the land grants. Now if we can get approval on those loans. Until then we need all the capital we can raise.”
Sam looked about again but saw no sign of Kate. He knew the check he’d sent for expenses had been posted and that she’d been to three dress shops as instructed, because they’d sent runners to approve the large order. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t get cold feet. Something about her didn’t ring true. She was hot one minute and cold the next, as if she didn’t know her own mind.
“I think we can get congressional backing once we have the route mapped. Cartographers are already on board. I also hired some Pinkertons to ride along as guards. Head man’s name is Allen Crawford.”
“Pinkertons?” said Sam, straining his neck to see beneath the wide-brimmed hat of a woman approaching to his right. Damn he hated women’s hats. Kept a man from running his hands through their hair.
