Before the Dawn

by Denise A. Agnew

  Bolstered, he rose from his chair and started for the back door.

  Out of the long shadows, far to his left, he heard footsteps thudding towards him. A man wearing a hooded mask rushed forward with club raised. Elijah dodged to the side as the runner swung the club. The runner swung again. Elijah met the man head on as he grabbed the man’s wrist and club at the same time. They grappled for the weapon. Elijah fell over a chair, his body flying backwards. He met the hard porch with a thud and grunt as pain rippled upward into his head. Stunned, he watched the attacker launch another onslaught. Elijah didn’t have time to reach in his pocket for his weapon. The attacker swung and hit Elijah’s arm with bruising force. Pain rocketed through Elijah’s arm and straight into the socket.

  “Hey, what the hell’s going on out here?” A shout came from the back door, and seconds later two men ran out onto the back porch.

  The attacker ran down the porch steps and into the soggy night.

  The men gathered around Elijah.

  “Hey, are you all right?” one of the men asked.

  Elijah struggled into sitting position, his back and head throbbing. Damn, damn. Your fighting skills are rusty, boy. “I’ve been better.” For a second Elijah thought he suffered from double vision, and then he recognized the men. He peered at the two redheads from the station. “You.”

  The twins nodded. “Us,” they said at the same time.

  “Looks like you have a whole passel of trouble tonight, friend,” one of them said.

  “Come on,” the man’s brother said. “Let’s get you inside. You need a doctor?”

  Bemused that they gave a damn, he rose to his feet with their help. He felt a little unstable but shook his head. “I’ll be all right.”

  “Who was that guy?” the tallest twin asked.

  Elijah rubbed the back of his neck. “Good question.”

  He followed the men into the building, and he’d reached the lobby when the world around him started to tilt.

  He had about two seconds to react. “Ah, shite.”

  Then he went face down.

  Chapter Seven

  A knock on the door awoke Mary Jane from a pleasant, deep sleep. Startled, her heart pounded as she listened. Maybe she imagined the knocking.

  Another gentle but persistent knock. “Mrs. McKinnon. It’s Robert O’Gannon. We met earlier today in the train station. Your husband’s been injured and needs you.”

  A cold lump filled her stomach and her heart started to skitter and thump. She hastened to light the lamp, hands shaking. “Coming.”

  Elijah hurt.

  Fear added to the mix of emotions bombarding her. She hurried to the door, unlocked it, and threw it open. One of the red-headed men from the train station stood there.

  His neutral expression turned to pink embarrassment as he realized she wore only her unmentionables. He averted his gaze. “Uh, ma’am, it’s your husband. He’s in the room next door.” He pointed to his right. “They’ve sent for a doctor.”

  “What happened?”

  “He was attacked outside on the back porch.”

  A thousand terrible possibilities scrambled through her thoughts. “I will be right there.”

  She slammed the door and hurried into her damp clothing. All the while she could think of nothing else but getting to Elijah. She grabbed her reticule and rushed out of the room. She knocked on the door next to hers. Immediately the door opened and Mr. O’Gannon opened the door.

  She pushed past him. “Where is Elijah?”

  Elijah lay sprawled on the bed, arm crooked over his eyes. As she barged into the room, Elijah dropped his arm and gave her a disconcerted, almost sheepish look. She dropped to the side of the bed, barely registering that Mr. O’Gannon had closed the door and left them alone.

  Mary Jane’s gaze danced over him, searching for signs of injury. Other than being a tad pale, he looked none the worse for wear. “Elijah, what happened?”

  He eased into sitting position and eased back against the headboard with a groan. He closed his eyes. He sounded all right, and without any outward signs of damage, he looked even better. His hair was tousled over his forehead, and he wore only a white shirt and trousers. Mary Jane’s attention landed on the sprinkle of dark hair on his chest. Her gaze dropped down to his bare feet. Big, somehow glorious, bare feet. Heat rushed into all parts of her body. She tried to remember if she had ever encountered a man as unnerving, as impossible.

  “By all the saints. I told him not to bother you,” he said.

  Worry kept her on edge. “Apparently he thought it was enough of a concern to contact me. Now, what happened?”

  “Some arse came out of the woodwork and attacked me with a club. Before he could finish the job, O’Gannon and his brother appeared. I had the good grace to faint like a woman.” His mouth twisted into a small smile for a couple of seconds, then retreated to his customary frown. “I woke up right away, but they helped me upstairs and insisted on fetching the doctor. O’Gannon’s brother is doing that now.”

  “I am surprised they helped you considering how they acted earlier in the day.”

  “They told me they were only looking out for you earlier.”

  “Any sane person would think twice about letting you near—”

  “Never mind.” He waved one hand. “It doesn’t matter. Why don’t you go back to your room? After all, I’m a murderer. Who knows what I might do to you?”

  His dismissive tone cut to the quick. She wanted to run, to leave him here with his injuries. She stood. “Well, I can see you are quite healthy. Since you are not dying in my arms, I suppose I can leave.”

  She turned to go, face hot with indignation, her stomach tossing with the sickening belief she was abandoning him.

  “Wait.”

  Half tempted to keep walking, she turned towards him. His gaze assessed her, but this time with invitation simmering in his eyes.

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “I apologize. That was…unfair.” He paused, and when she didn’t respond, he said, “You didn’t have to come here. Why did you?”

  Flustered, she stayed in place and mumbled her explanation. “I could not very well ignore Mr. Gannon’s summons. It would have looked strange if a wife did not come running when her husband is injured.”

  Amusement twisted his lips then exploded in a smile. “I see you left your crinoline in your room, and your gloves. Not exactly proper is it, darlin’?”

  His wit barely registered.

  That damn smile lit up the room, and she blinked in astonishment. Yes, he’d smiled before. And yes, she’d thought him handsome and charming when he had. Something about this smile…something about it drove every thought from her mind but one.

  Oh my, my. With a smile he became unimaginably striking. As his lips curved and amusement brightened his eyes, her heartbeat galloped like a racehorse.

  Good humor did something extraordinary to Elijah McKinnon. Life had probably not treated him kindly. Whatever indignities he might have known, her heart hated to think on it. Despite her resolve to have nothing to do with him, part of her yearned with her heart and that longing threw her into chaos.

  As those green-as-Ireland eyes captured hers and held, her breath halted. Her senses spun. Lush, forbidden heat blossomed in her lower stomach. Trying to supply an unflustered answer became impossible.

  “I see I have you speechless.” He put out his hand. “Come, wife. Sit next to me until O’Gannon brings the doctor. We want to make the proper impression.”

  He winked.

  She almost gasped. The impudent—

  Her mouth popped open. “I—you are funning with me, sir.”

  “Yes, I am, darlin’.”

  Fumbling for words, she said, “I suppose I shall have to abandon asking you not to use that endearment, since you do not seem to listen.”

  “I rarely do. We’ll make an agreement. I’ll allow you to continue calling me sir, since you don’t seem to listen. And I’ll call you darlin’ i
n retaliation.”

  A smile escaped her, and as it widened her mouth, she almost laughed. “You are the most infuriating man I have ever met.”

  “In your case, Mary Jane Lawson, I think that might mean something significant.” His voice held secrets, lush promises. Exciting possibilities. “I love seeing your eyes wide, your face flushed, your lips parted. Damn me if it isn’t the most…”

  His voice drifted off, his gaze locking with hers so completely, she wondered if a strange muse had entwined them both. She swallowed hard and shook her head to deny the power he wielded.

  As she approached the bed, she did so like a lamb heading for slaughter. “If you are quite healthy, there is no need for me to be here.”

  “Ah, but I can hope that you were worried about me, can’t I?” He sobered for a moment, his eyes now warm with something that almost resembled affection. “Were you? Worried about me?”

  “Of course not. You are…hearty. I only thought…”

  “That it wouldn’t look proper for you to slam the door in O’Gannon’s face and tell him to let me die?”

  “Yes.”

  Mary Jane wondered if she’d lost her common sense. Here she stood with her hands clasped in front of her like a prim school marm, her heart doing an annoying dance.

  She returned to his bedside and settled down. When he winced, the apprehension that bombarded her earlier returned. “Are you in pain? Can I get you something for relief? I could have some wine sent up.”

  She reached out impulsively and brushed the hair back from his forehead. Elijah caught her hand, and with his eyes locked on hers, he drew her hand to his lips. He pressed a heated kiss to her knuckles. “If this is pain, then I’ll endure it over and over.” His voice went deeper and rough with emotion. “And there is only one thing that would give me relief.”

  “Wine then?”

  “No.” His gaze dropped to her bodice and caressed her breasts like a touch.

  Once more a mindless yearning flushed through her body. “Elijah…”

  “Say my name again, darlin’”

  “I…” She could not. Saying it at his command was too intimate.

  Bemused and yet excited by his touch, she left her hand in his. He clasped it securely but gently, then released her with an intoxicating slide of flesh against flesh.

  “Sir, I am serious.”

  “So am I.”

  “You are very rude.”

  “So you have told me before.” His voice went lower. Dangerous and enticing. Coaxing her to forget the world around her and concentrate only on him. “There isn’t anything you can tell me about myself I haven’t heard before.”

  “You stare and stare. Did you learn manners in Ireland?”

  “None. Wait. Yes, I did. But since seeing you I’ve lost all reason. I’m capable of nothing more than babbling of your beauty. You’ve bewitched me beyond saving.”

  As if caught up in a turbulence he could not escape, he drew her closer, leaning forward until their faces were close. His mouth hovered near hers.

  She gasped, but could not speak for a few seconds. “This is madness.”

  “Yes.”

  Before she could think of protesting, his mouth took hers.

  They touched nowhere else but lips, yet Mary Jane felt his caress as a lightning jolt. He lingered and withdrew, settled and sampled. Hot delight coiled and grew. She pulled back and her hand went to her lips. She kept her fingers there while her mouth tingled. Her gaze locked with his in startled revelation.

  That slow, sinful smile tilted his mouth, a devilish and disarming quality she did not resist.

  “Mrs. McKinnon, I’m surprised. I’m astonished, as a matter of fact. I thought you didn’t like your husband anymore.”

  She stood, spine straight. “I do not.”

  He settled back onto the pillows and put his hands behind his head. “That didn’t feel like dislike.”

  “It was.” The denial touched her lips but didn’t enter her heart. She walked a distance away.

  Before she could retreat any farther, he sat up and left the bed. He came to stand near her, his body so stalwart and healthy, she doubted anything could fell him. His chest rose and fell with deep motions, his arms akimbo, his bare feet planted apart. Her gaze snagged on his chest again, mesmerized for a moment on his power and strength. They almost touched chest to chest.

  “Why did you come running?” he asked.

  Instinct called, and she put a hand out in defense. Solid male muscle connected with her palm. His hand fell over hers, tucking her much smaller fingers to warm, hard flesh. His left pectoral muscle bunched, and his nipple beaded under her fingers.

  “Why did you come to my room if you dislike me so much?” he asked again.

  “Common decency is expected of all ladies. That should not surprise you.”

  Slowly he released her hand, and she let it slide along his chest before snatching it away from disturbing sensations. Her body was aflame with unexpected yearning.

  “I think you came here because there’s part of you that cares about me,” he said. “And I’ll prove it.”

  Once more he leaned in and kissed her. Brush by brush, he painted his lips over hers in tender strokes that heated fires everywhere. He fisted his hand in her hair and drew her to his chest, his mouth now working hers with a persistent tasting. She eased away with a moan, but his lips still hovered over hers.

  “That wasn’t a proper kiss,” he said.

  “Of course it was.”

  “How many times have you been kissed?”

  She licked her lips, and his gaze caught hold of the sight and burned like a touch. She swallowed hard. “Many times.”

  He frowned. “Many times? By how many men?”

  “By one.”

  “How old?”

  “Forty.”

  “Ancient.”

  “To a twenty-year-old woman, it is.”

  “That’s interesting.” He kept his voice soft and non-threatening. “So, how old are now?”

  “Twenty-two.”

  “I’m twenty-six.”

  “Ancient.”

  “In five years I’ve lived a lifetime.”

  She had no doubt he had, in his own way. “The man was Professor Thaddeus Ricker, a lecturer at the university. He teaches Latin. He was very appealing and handsome, a scholarly man that women respected.” She shuddered. “But they should not have. I should not have.”

  “The old man didn’t kiss you properly, and because you didn’t find him attractive, you didn’t enjoy his kiss.”

  His brows knitted, and she saw sympathy and understanding there that she did not know if she wanted. Attractive? Oh, yes, she knew how she felt when Elijah stood near, when he looked at her with those hooded, searching-out-every-secret eyes. It was world’s above what she had experienced with Thaddeus. Her professor, once so dear in her young heart, seemed pale imitations of manhood against Elijah’s potent personality.

  Before she could answer, his touch slid down to her throat and tested the pulse pounding there. “Sure, and there it is. Heat and madness.”

  “Madness?”

  “Your pulse is quick. The way your breath quickens and your heart picks up speed tells me you like our kisses.”

  “I do not want to like it.” She blurted the statement with a petulance that surprised and embarrassed her.

  “Whether you want to like it or not isn’t the question. Did you like it?”

  She knew she hovered on making a step that once taken could not be erased. “Yes. It was…pleasurable.”

  His eyes turned hungry, their intensity building with her answer. “How much pleasure?”

  “New. Different.”

  He drew in a deep, shivering breath and trembled on the exhalation. “Do you want an honest kiss, Mary Jane?”

  She could not voice it, so she did the one thing that would answer. She slipped her hand through thick, black hair at the back of his neck and eased towards him, brought him nearer
inch by inch until…

  Their lips met.

  And suddenly all the protests within her mind and in her diary faded to insignificance.

  Pleasure danced within her body, once more returning the sweet, mysterious longing to her lower stomach and the ache between her legs. His arms enfolded her, drawing her deep into his embrace. Braced along hard sinew and unforgiving muscle, she wrapped her arms around his neck and gave in to the devil. For most certainly that is what mother would call these growing feelings and this dangerous man. His mouth consumed hers without hesitation. Wrapped in this heavenly world, her senses whirled, spellbound with delight. His lips pressed hers open, and his tongue dipped inside to caress hers in one quick touch. She moaned and jerked back.

  His arms remained tight around her, his eyes concerned. “What’s wrong?”

  “What you did just then…it is…is that normal?”

  He chuckled, and embarrassment almost caused her to pull away. “Sure, and as certain I am that I was born in Ireland, it’s normal. It’s passion, darlin’. It’s what grows the pleasure.” He whispered his next words against her lips. “A man who wants a woman does it, and when she wants him, she participates.”

  “Oh. The professor never did that.”

  Still smiling, Elijah said, “Damned fool.”

  As he kissed her again and his tongue thrust deep, she gasped into his mouth. The rough, gentle way his tongue brushed over hers sent new furls of sensation twisting inside. Her hands roamed, finding his hair and loving the silken, cool thickness. She arched, wanting to be closer but not certain how to accomplish it. His chest crushed her breasts. His hands wandered her back. She clung to him as she learned the rhythm and twined her tongue with his. He was spice and flavors so heady and luscious she wanted to more and more regardless of consequences. Almost without thought, she kneaded the muscles in his shoulders, tested the power in his biceps. When his hands loosened and came up to cradle her face, she clasped his forearms. Soon one deep kiss translated into two, then three, tastings that translated into more lingering thrusts of his wicked tongue. Though a delicious haze clouded her mind, she sensed this path led to a place she may not wish to wander just yet.