I should be exhausted. Instead of sleeping yesterday, I went to the festivities; then I worked all night. Why can’t I sleep? She rolled over and punched her pillow with a fist. Alex Carson, that’s why. Damn him.
He had no right to be so good-looking, and he especially had no right to kiss like the very devil. She was being unreasonable, but lack of sleep made her petulant.
Sighing with resignation, she slipped on her silk wrapper and opened the heavy curtains. Sunlight flooded the room. Since she couldn’t sleep, she might as well go through her father’s papers, a task she had been avoiding since she’d noticed the cluttered desk days before.
She sat in a soft leather chair in front of the heavy oak desk. The wealth of goods available in the Yukon never ceased to amaze her. If she so desired, she could go to a shop in town and buy a dress that was the height of fashion in Paris. The furniture in The Celebration, as well as in other establishments, was of the finest quality. Since Dawson City had been built on the river, any item a person desired could be obtained, eventually, by ship. With gold readily available, the merchants made the most of the opportunity by stocking every imaginable necessity and luxury.
Megan sighed as she attempted to organize the countless slips of paper haphazardly strewn across the desk. She had gone over the books almost immediately upon her arrival. Dan, the young doctor-turned-bartender whom Brian had engaged to take care of financial matters, had done a surprisingly good job. She had been astounded to learn that most of the bartenders in elegant establishments were American doctors or dentists unable to get a license to practice on British soil. Pleasantly surprised to find that her father had let someone competent handle his affairs for a change, Megan, nevertheless, had relieved Dan of his duties. She preferred to tend the finances with her own fingers. She had spent too many months in the past straightening out the tangles one of her father’s associates had worked them into.
But the papers she shifted through at present were unrelated to The Celebration. She found several letters in her own handwriting, as well as letters from Brian’s pals in San Francisco—men like her father, looking for an easy road to wealth. She wouldn’t be surprised if several turned up in Dawson City, hoping to ride Brian’s coattails to glory. She’d send them packing quick enough.
Megan’s hand froze in the motion of putting aside a paper. Drawing the document back toward her, she frowned in concentration.
What is this?
She had never seen a gold claim, nor the papers involved in registering one. But unless she missed her guess, what she held in her hand was just such a paper. She read onward in amazement. According to the paper, one Brian Daily, in partnership with Willie Shore, had registered a claim on Bonanza Creek.
Megan sat back in the chair. Papa had never mentioned a claim to her. In fact, he had made a point of mentioning that he would never work a claim but chose to make his money off those who did. And who was Willie Shore? She had never met this man or heard his name during her time in Dawson City. If her father had been in partnership with someone, wouldn’t the man have contacted her? And why hadn’t she heard about the claim from one of the girls or bartenders—or Queen, for that matter?
Her mind spun with the questions. More than likely, the piece of property was as worthless as most of the other get-rich-quick schemes Brian had been involved with. And this Willie Shore had probably gone back to wherever he’d come from, dead broke, as most of Brian’s partners ended up.
Weariness washed over her, and she stood up. Maybe she was finally tired enough to sleep. The question of the gold claim could be resolved when her mind was clearer.
When she pulled closed the heavy draperies, the room became shrouded in darkness once again. With a contented sigh, Megan sank down onto the massive bed and fell almost instantly asleep.
But blessed forgetfulness hovered just out of reach. Her mind haunted with images of blue eyes and auburn hair, firm lips pressed to hers and strong hands against her skin, she groaned with the pleasure. “Alex,” she whispered, and the sound of her own voice tugged her toward wakefulness.
On the edge of sleep, the rustle of papers and a hint of movement nearby made Megan pull a pillow over her head. She wanted the dream back.
Suddenly the truth of what she heard penetrated and forced her toward wakefulness. Slowly, cautiously, Megan removed the pillow from her head and peered into the murky gloom. A figure stood next to the desk, quietly searching through the papers. The race of Megan’s heart threatened to choke the breath from her lungs.
She couldn’t just lie there and let this intruder rifle through her father’s possessions. Quietly, Megan raised herself to a sitting position on the bed, eyes searching the room for a weapon. Her glance fell on the poker near the fireplace. Though the implement was several paces from her and nearer the intruder, she saw nothing else.
As she got to her feet, the bed creaked, and the dark figure whirled in her direction.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Megan froze, though she had to be clearly visible in the semi-darkness of the room. The intruder moved quickly; and before she could scream or run, she was shoved back onto the bed. Hands closed around her throat. She struggled, fingers clawing at the assailant, nails piercing flesh in desperation; but he was strong, and too soon black dots swam before her eyes.
As consciousness waned, Megan heard the door to her room bang open, and then the intruder fell away from her onto the floor. Air filled her lungs, welcomed though painful, and Megan’s vision cleared. She heard a threatening snarl, then a startled curse from a man seconds before a heavy object hit the floor.
Staggering to her feet, Megan saw the dark figure rolling across the room as Damon attempted to gain a hold at his throat. Megan opened her mouth to scream for help but only managed a hoarse croak. She watched in horror as they rolled toward the fireplace, where the intruder grabbed the very instrument she had planned to use in saving herself. She gasped as the poker swung toward Damon and knocked the wolf to the ground, where he lay still. The assailant ran from her room, loud footsteps echoing up from the dance hall.
Megan knelt next to the fallen animal. He was only stunned, already showing signs of revival as he whimpered and raised his head to lick her hand. Petting his coarse fur, she murmured her thanks until the electric lights blared to life above her.
“Lovey, what in blazes is going on in here?”
Megan looked up to see Queen, resplendent in an orange silk wrapper, surrounded by several of the girls. Everyone turned when footsteps pounded up the stairs. The only man with a room at The Celebration, Zechariah, the bartender, rushed through the door, armed with a heavy stick. His gaze took in the dazed Damon, with Megan kneeling at his side, and he lowered his weapon.
“Right on time as usual, Zechariah,” Queen drawled. “I think you girls can go back to bed now. Meggie’s all right.”
Amidst grumbling about lost sleep, the dancers retreated. Megan stood as Damon got to his feet, swayed a bit, then leaned against her leg.
“Miss Daily, I heard a whole lot of banging around up here, then someone ran through the hall and out the front door, right past my room. Did one of them miners try somethin’ funny with you?” Zechariah peered at her closely and shook his club for emphasis. “Just tell me who and I’ll take care of ‘em.”
“I woke up. Someone was going through my father’s papers, but I couldn’t see who.”
“Why would anyone want Brian’s papers?” Queen wrinkled her nose at the overflowing desk.
“I’m not sure, but it must have been important.” Megan rubbed at the sore skin of her throat. “He tried to strangle me before Damon drove him off”
“Should I call the doctor?” Queen came farther into the room and put her heavy arm around Megan’s shoulders. Damon snarled, though he still swayed as though he would fall at any moment.
“Relax, Damon.” Megan reassured the animal. “I don’t need a doctor, Queen. I only wish Zechariah had gotten a swipe at him.”
&nb
sp; “You’d best report this to the authorities in the mornin’.” Zechariah headed back to his room.
Queen stiffened then moved away. “I don’t like the law, Lovey. Never have.”
“Zecheriah’s right. I don’t want this to happen again.”
“It won’t. Probably just some drunk lookin’ for gold. Now that he knows about Damon, he won’t be back. Just make sure that beast is downstairs from now on.”
“Downstairs? I think he’s earned the right to sleep in my room.” Megan patted the wolf’s massive head before Damon trotted over to flop onto the carpet, closing his eyes with a peaceful sigh.
When she looked up, Queen had disappeared.
That’s odd, Megan thought. And I wanted to ask her about the gold claim, too. There’s always tomorrow.
She climbed into bed and, despite the upsetting events of the night, fell immediately into a deep sleep.
Alex grimaced when he drew duty in the office for the next week. He really couldn’t complain, since he hadn’t worked there since his arrival in Dawson City. But he had always hated office work, and he detested the task even more since he had other places to be and people to question in regard to Joanna’s death.
The morning dragged as the heat mounted, and the air inside the small office building matched the temperature outside degree for degree. Alex tugged on the collar of his uniform and sighed. This was going to be a long week.
The door swung open and Alex glanced up, then came to his feet in a rush at the sight of Megan and Damon. The scent of just-cut lemons permeated the heavy air, and Alex breathed deeply of the cooling fragrance. Today she wore a frock the color of summer sunlight. The shade flattered her, though Alex had no liking for the seductive style she had adopted with her transformation.
“Were you looking for me?” he asked, annoyed with the hopeful lilt to his voice.
Megan seemed uncomfortable at finding him in the offices of the mounted police. She wrung her hands, glancing at the door with longing before swallowing and meeting his eyes with a challenging glare. “Not you in particular. I’d like to report an assault.”
Alex clenched his teeth. Some drunken sot of a miner had tried to get fresh with one of the girls, no doubt. Motioning for Megan to take a chair, Alex did the same as he picked up a pen. “The woman who was assaulted should be here, not you, Megan. Which one of the girls is it?”
“Not one of the girls. Someone attacked me in my room last night”
“You!” He jumped to his feet, hands clenched. Now that he looked more closely, what he’d thought were shadows from the room were actually light bruises about her neck. Who had dared to touch her?
“I’m all right.” She smoothed the fur on the wolf’s head. “Thanks to Damon.”
“Who was it?”
“If I knew the answer to that question, I wouldn’t be here. I was sleeping; and when I awoke, I saw someone rifling through my father’s papers. When I tried to stop him, he attacked me.”
Alex’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. “I would think a thief would look for gold, not personal papers.”
“I had the same thought. But if not gold, then maybe this.” She withdrew a paper from her sleeve and handed it to him.
As he took the missive from her outstretched hand, he noticed the length and fragility of her fingers. Images of those soft hands on his face, neck, chest shot through his mind.
“Lieutenant?”
Megan’s questioning voice brought him back to reality, and he opened the paper with a snap. He had never had a problem keeping his mind on his work before Megan Daily entered his life.
The document was the title to a gold claim in the names of Willie Shore and Brian Daily. He looked up at Megan. “What’s this?”
“That’s the only item of value I found when I went through my father’s papers again this morning. Do you think that’s what the intruder was looking for?”
Alex rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Perhaps. Though the claim belongs to whomever it’s registered to, or their heir in this case, not who’s in possession of this paper.” He glanced at the document again and frowned. “Who’s Willie Shore?”
“I was hoping you might know. I asked Queen, and she had no idea my father even had a gold claim, let alone a partner.” Megan smiled fondly. “She was mighty put out that he’d kept something from her, too.”
“I can imagine.” Alex returned her smile as he handed the paper back to her.
“Is there any way to find out more about this Willie Shore and the claim?”
“I’ll ask around; but if Queen doesn’t know him, I can’t say that I’ll have much better luck. As for the claim, the directions are right here on this document. You can go take a look at the land for yourself if you’d like.”
“I suppose I’ll have to. Will you take me?”
Alex started at her question. He had convinced himself in the early hours of the morning that further contact between himself and Megan Daily should be kept at a minimum. He was attracted to her far too much for his own peace of mind. But he found himself wavering at the beseeching look in Megan’s clear green gaze.
“I suppose I could take you there on Sunday. I should really check this claim myself, as it’s related to your assault.” Alex prided himself on the businesslike tone of his voice. Too bad his heart was hammering in a very unbusinesslike rhythm.
“Sunday would be perfect. Thank you.”
Megan stood and snapped her fingers to Damon. Alex admired the sway of her hips through the thin fabric of her dress as she walked toward the door. When she turned, he hurriedly shifted his gaze to her face.
“What did you do with the dog?”
“Dog?” Alex wondered if he had missed part of the conversation while he was admiring her nether regions. He cleared his throat and coughed to cover his embarrassment.
“The puppy we rescued the other night. I forgot to ask about him on the Fourth.” She looked up at Alex from beneath her lashes. “The day was a bit hectic.”
Alex recalled their interrupted kiss on the hill. Studying her closely, he saw evidence of a blush upon her cheeks. If he didn’t know better, he’d think Megan Daily had never been kissed before.
“Ah, yes, the pup.” He faltered, forgetting for a moment what he’d done with the animal. “I gave him to a friend. Don’t worry, he’s in good hands.”
“What friend? I’d like to see him sometime.”
“Ah, I gave him to a miner—a miner who left for his claim yesterday. He might be back here in a few months. I’ll let you know.” He hoped his hastily constructed tale would convince her to let the subject drop.
Megan stared at him for a moment longer, then smiled. “Yes, let me know. About the pup and about Sunday.”
She exited the office, leaving a hint of lemon fragrance in her wake, and Alex released the breath he had been holding as he fell back into his chair and grimaced. Women, wolves, and pups were nothing but trouble.
The following Sunday, Megan was dressed and waiting on the porch of The Celebration before any of the girls were awake. She hadn’t seen Alex since that morning in the office, but he had sent a note telling her to be ready at noon, dressed for riding and minus her wolf, who would spook the horses.
Megan smoothed the material of her black riding habit with its split skirt, then adjusted the brim of her matching flat-topped hat. She thanked her lucky stars she had learned to sit a horse as a child and continued to ride whenever possible. The terrain around Dawson City was rough, and she would need all her skill to reach her father’s claim.
The sound of hoofbeats neared, making her squint into the noonday sun. Alex Carson approached on horseback, leading another horse behind. As always, he wore the uniform of the mounted police. She wondered, momentarily, what he would look like in anything else.
Alex drew his horse to a stop in front of the dance hall. Jumping to the ground, he stood at the foot of the stairs and tipped his black hat. “Your mount awaits, my lady.”
�
�Thank you, kind sir.” Megan accepted his help getting onto the mare, ignoring the tingle at her waist when his hands touched her. She smiled at him from her perch in the saddle. “How long will it take us to reach the claim?”
“A few hours. Are you up to this?”
“Certainly, Lieutenant. I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”
She watched him remount, admiring the flex of his muscular legs and the obvious strength in his large hands. She guided her horse into step beside his as they left town.
“It’s hard to believe the temperature will start to drop by the end of this month,” Alex remarked. “There’s been snow as early as August in these parts.”
“I’ll have to enjoy the sunshine while I can.”
“We all do in the Yukon. The sun will disappear in mid-November and you won’t feel its warmth again until late January.”
Despite the warmth of the day, Megan shivered. The thought of ever-present darkness for months on end was daunting.
“Ready to head for sunny California, Megan?” Alex taunted.
In response, she straightened her spine and lifted her chin. “Not on your life, Lieutenant. With things starting to go my way in Dawson City, I can handle darkness, cold, and anything else this country hands out.”
“I thought you’d say that. Did you inherit your grit from your mother’s side of the family?”
Megan stiffened again, sensing the veiled slight to her father. “No. My mother was a quiet woman of poor health. Father was the adventurer. He taught me everything I know.”
“Let’s hope not,” Alex muttered.
“What is it with you and my father?” The volume of her voice startled a bird from a nearby tree. She watched it fly into the expanse of blue then returned her attention to Alex, lowering her voice and reining in her temper. “You’ve made several comments about him; I get the feeling you knew my father and didn’t like him. Am I right?”
Just After Midnight: Historical Romance Page 6
