Before the Dawn

by Denise A. Agnew

  Perhaps I should stay on guard, and I have told him that intimacies are not permitted.

  Yet…

  She opened her eyes, losing her ability to imagine the words. Putting her feelings into words had never been difficult before with her diary open in front of her. Why did she find it so impossible to describe exactly what she felt and what was happening to her? Why she would abandon her resolve that she would no longer involve herself with men of dubious connection?

  The steam locomotive chugged and strained up one laborious incline to another. Drop offs and rugged edges came on every front. Trees hugged the ridges, their profusion of hemlock and other greenery reminding her of Elijah’s mysterious eyes. This land proved vigorous, a challenge to all who dared cross it. To her, these mountains and this excursion became more than an event to survive. It became about the learning, the total understanding. Contentment came out of nowhere, and she embraced it, not knowing how long it would last. She only knew it felt wonderful and real. Delicious and uplifting. Her father’s death brought sorrow, but maybe she had learned about herself along the way. She noted the others in the car, including the haughty woman and her husband Fritz, remained silent. Perhaps they felt this magic, too.

  Elijah awakened abruptly, a gasp on his lips. Another nightmare?

  She almost reached out to him, but he blinked and rubbed his eyes. “Where are we?”

  “Incline six I believe. Almost to the Summit Mansion Hotel.”

  “Did you stay there on the way to Philadelphia?”

  “No. We managed this trip far quicker coming from Pittsburgh.”

  The train came to a laborious stop into the station. Before long a conductor entered the car behind them. Rain chased people towards stagecoaches awaiting passengers.

  Mary Jane sighed with disappointment. “Oh, no. Don’t tell me this all we are going today?”

  Before Elijah could comment, the conductor came on and announced the bad news. “Sorry, folks, but the weather down the Western Slope is too rough to proceed for the rest of the day. You’ll find accommodation at Lemon House or Summit Mansion Hotel.”

  Mary Jane stood in front of the Summit Mansion Hotel and decided they would stay here—it looked more elegant than Lemon House. Built next to the turnpike, Summit Mansion Hotel was a white, three-story, wood frame building.

  “Humph.” Elijah’s male grunt said it all as they stood outside the hotel on the dirt road and took stock. “Looks high on the horse.”

  She smiled. “If we enter and you object to the folderol, we can try the Lemon House. Agreed?”

  He looked down on her, a brooding quality in his eyes. “Agreed.”

  They entered and found a well-designed and distinct world. The interior at first glance showed moderation with furnishings, nothing too ostentatious and nothing too rustic. Mary Jane scanned the lobby, front desk, and what looked like a parlor and dining room. Several people lingered in the lobby, most of them men. Their rough work clothing spoke of coal miners, rail workers and other laborers. Only the train passengers looked none the worse for wear.

  After Elijah and Mary Jane waited in line to check in, the dark-haired, rugged man at the front desk smiled brightly at both of them. Mary Jane could not help but notice the man behind the desk paid particular attention to her.

  “Pleased to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. McKinnon. I’m Douglas Campbell, son of the owner. I think you’ll find our hotel most comfortable. We opened for business in December, 1833, and our hotel is the best around,” the desk clerk said.

  “Oh?” Mary Jane gave him a genuine smile. “Right around the time the railroad started.”

  Campbell leaned on the desk and continued to spread on the charm, apparently just for her. “You know about the area, Mrs. McKinnon?”

  “Only a little I have picked up here and there.”

  “Well, once you’ve stayed here, you’ll come back again.”

  Elijah did not appear convinced. “How many hotels are around here besides this one,” he gazed around, “and the Lemon House?”

  Campbell’s warm brown eyes danced with zeal for his subject. “Well, Summitville has grown to over four hundred people just this year. There are four hotels in Summitville.” He scratched his chin. “Another four outside of town too. There are even five boarding houses nearby. Lemon House is a lovely establishment, but it’s a bit farther away.”

  “Humph.” Elijah grunted his enthusiasm, and Mary Ann wanted to smack him with her reticule.

  Campbell rushed on, apparently determined to impress. “We’ve got eight-foot ceilings, long hallways, and forty-two rooms. Each room has a bed, dresser and washstand. Our kitchen has indoor water piped from a spring. Though with all the rain we’ve been having, we’ve had enough water for a lifetime.” Campbell’s chuckle sounded false to Mary Jane, but she took the polite approach and smiled. He continued with, “We have a room on the second floor just for you.”

  Mary Jane glanced over at Elijah. “What do you think?”

  Elijah waited so long to answer, she wondered if he heard her. He pulled out his money. “We’ll take a room. Can you have my wife’s trunk sent up?”

  “Would be my pleasure.” Campbell held his hand out to shake. When he took Mary Jane’s hand, though, he held on longer than necessary and smiled into her eyes.

  Elijah pointedly took her hand from the other man, picked up the key and turned to the staircase.

  As Mary Jane and Elijah headed upstairs, Mary Jane pulled her hand from his grip. “Is there something wrong, Elijah? You were a little impolite back there.”

  “I saw the way he was looking at you.” They reached their room number, and Elijah unlocked the door. They stepped inside and after Elijah relocked the door, he tossed the key on the washstand.

  He sounded almost petulant, almost…jealous. “And?”

  “The man’s a wife stealer.”

  Mary Jane worked on removing her hat. “You think he will steal a wife you do not even have?”

  “Yeah.”

  She placed her reticule and hat at the foot of the bed and took a chance on this temper. “That is ridiculous, Elijah. I have no interest in him. Besides, I have no interest whatsoever in attracting any man’s attention.”

  “Sure, and why don’t I believe that?”

  Half amused, she took another gamble. “I know this could not possibly be true, but you sound jealous.”

  Sure enough, he turned away from the washbasin and stalked her way, all prowling masculinity and hard edges. His eyes flashed. He leaned in close, his fresh male scent teasing her senses. “All right, I’ll confess.” Elijah continued his predatory walk, circling her like a man reviewing property at an auction. “I will get this off my chest and then say no more about it.” He stopped in front of her, his gaze hot and hungry. “When he touched you, when any man gets near you, I go a little mad.”

  Startled and aroused by his possessiveness, she managed one question. “Why?”

  “Because I’m keeping you safe. I made that vow, remember?” He leaned in closer, so much closer her breath caught. He smelled wonderful and male, and she longed to reach out and stroke his face. “Against my better judgment, I might add.”

  His eyes still burned, but he turned away and sat on the bed to remove his shoes. Disappointment settled inside her. Had she wanted more? And if she had, what exactly? To hear a declaration of affection? Of undying love?

  Preposterous.

  When Elijah drew off his waistcoat, cravat, and unbuttoned his shirt to the waist, she received an eyeful before averting her gaze. She closed her eyes but could not vanquish the vision from her brain of sculpted chest, broad shoulders, and muscled stomach sprinkled with dark hair. She felt too hot, too confined. Staying caged in this room with pure male animal made her fidget.

  She reached for her hat once more, regretting the need to place it on her head again. “I say we should have an early meal before everyone else has the same idea. We can talk.”

  He tilted his head to
one side and managed a lopsided smile. “What else do we have to talk about?”

  “Anything. Everything. The real reason why you are traveling to Pittsburgh since you have never said.”

  His mouth tightened, all humor lost. He lay back on the bed and crossed his hands over his stomach. “I do not have to tell you that.”

  She walked towards him and caught the faraway look in his eyes. “You constantly confound me, sir. I do not understand you.”

  He sat up and scooted to the edge of the bed. His thighs spread wide, and she realized with a start that she stood between those encompassing limbs. What troubled her most was her inability to move away. “Maybe it is best if we kept it that way. I don’t know you and you don’t know me.”

  She dared to make a bolder move, tired of playing games that required dancing and dodging to arrive at a coherent answer. “Perhaps five years in a prison made you afraid.” Defiance grew in his eyes, and Mary Jane knew she hit on a truth. Yet she understood fear too well…this entire journey had her teetering on a pinhead. “I will make you a wager, sir.”

  “I like the sound of that.” His voice dropped into a husky, sensual tone that brushed like a touch along her skin. “But I have a price.”

  Chapter Nine

  “A price?” Oh, Mary Jane, what are you doing?

  The arrogant Irishman leaned back on his hands. “I’ll tell you a little of what you want to know, then you pay.”

  A warning jumped into her thoughts. You’re taking this too far. Retreat. Retreat. “With what?”

  “After each answer, you have to kiss me.”

  Her mouth popped open. “That is outlandish.”

  His eyes said he didn’t lie about what he wanted. “Maybe. But it’s the price you’ll pay if you want answers.”

  She tried self-defense and moved away to stand in front of the mirror over the washbasin. She placed her hat on the washstand and stared at her wide-eyed expression in the mirror. Oh my. She looked as startled as a small child. “You are playing the rascal.”

  He made a sound low in his throat, somewhere between a contented sigh and the purr of a languid cat. “That sounds about right.”

  Mary Jane’s throat tightened, but that imp inside refused retreat. He thought he could challenge her to a battle of wits. Well, she would show him. She worked open the throat of her dress, knowing it would distract him to catch a glimpse of female flesh. Perhaps if she attempted charm…

  She undid her hair pin by pin. It fell about her shoulders and dropped to just above her waist. It needed a good brushing, but the chignon had given her hair some wave. She could not see him from this angle but sensed his piercing attention.

  She should not do this.

  Yet she could not stop.

  She turned towards him and saw the ploy worked. Elijah’s eyes turned molten as his gaze fastened on her throat and breasts. Perhaps this adventure had loosened her inhibitions more than they should. She trembled on the edge, almost ready to back away from the silly venture.

  He patted the bed beside him. “Sit next to me and get comfortable.”

  Comfortable? Oh, she could not feel comfortable sitting anywhere near him. “What about our meal?”

  “Are you hungry?”

  She shook her head.

  He patted the bed again.

  She sat and turned slightly towards Elijah, keeping at least a foot between them.

  Weighty silence gathered and accumulated before she forced a question passed her lips. “I hardly know where to start.”

  He returned the favor and angled his body towards her, his knee hitched up on the bed, his forearms leaning on his thighs. “What are you burning to know, darlin’?”

  “Did Maureen break your betrothal because you were accused of a crime and imprisoned?” His mouth twitched, and she saw the denial welling. She put her hand up. “I know you said never to ask you about her. But whoever she is, she is important enough to give you a nightmare.”

  His eyes clouded, but he nodded his agreement. “That she was.” He sighed. “All right. You asked for the truth. I was convicted of murdering Maureen.”

  Mary Jane’s hand went to her throat as goose bumps prickled along her arms. She could not believe it. Did not want to believe it.

  “That is not the half of it,” he said. “The man who really killed her was my own brother. Amos.”

  Mary Jane did not react for a few seconds, stunned.

  “Does this make you want to run from me?” he asked.

  “I suppose it should.”

  “So your mother would say.”

  “Most definitely.”

  “I don’t see you running.”

  “I admit that I am horrified. But not of you. For you.”

  She had not expected the pure gratitude she saw in his eyes. “Thank you, darlin’.” He leaned closer. “I gave you an answer.” His voice went low and soft. “Kiss me.”

  Elijah’s plea touched a new place within Mary Jane. She wanted that experience, to relight the flame. The conservative angel on her shoulder went silent.

  Mary Jane leaned forward, taking initiative. He waited for her at first, then met in the middle. A slow, tentative kiss brushed over her lips, and a tiny flame flickered in her belly. He drew back, surprising her.

  When he sat back, his forearms once more resting on his thighs, mischief danced in his eyes. “That wasn’t half bad.”

  “Half bad?” Her indignation came to the forefront.

  “You need to really kiss me, Mary Jane. Or beg me to teach you more.”

  Her cheeks flooded with heat. “Me? Beg you to teach me…well, I do not think so.”

  He laughed and the seductive sound coiled and caressed her like the brush of fingertips all along her body. “Ask me another question.”

  She huffed. “Very well. Why were you accused of murder rather than your brother?”

  His face became reflective, eyes deep with emotions that flickered from anger to resignation. “Because the evidence pointed in my direction. Because my brother had friends who swore he was with them the night she was killed.”

  An ache started for him, and she feared how far she could press without bringing him more pain. “This sounds like a long story.”

  “It is.”

  “Start from the beginning. How did you meet Maureen?”

  “You didn’t kiss me after the other question.”

  Again she expelled a sigh. “Come here, then.”

  He smiled at her demanding tone. He met her halfway, scooting closer. When their lips touched this time, delicious sweetness coiled in her belly as his lips stroked and warmed. This kiss went longer, but no deeper.

  She drew back, breathless. “There. Now answer my other question.”

  He scrubbed one hand over his jaw. “It started a long time even before I met her. My mother left Ireland with me, Amos and my other brother, Zeke. Zeke is six years older than me. Amos is five years older than me. My Da used to beat us all when he didn’t like something we did or said. Or even if he’d just had a bad day. Amos took after our Da, and he terrorized Ma sometimes and me. I started off as a puny thing and that made it easier for Amos to hurt me.”

  “You? I do not believe you could ever be puny. How tall are you now?”

  “That’s another question. Two as a matter of fact. You owe me two kisses first.”

  “Elijah Jonas McKinnon, you are quite the…the…”

  “Blackguard.”

  “Indeed.” She leaned forward and settled a lukewarm peck on his lips. Quick. Efficient.

  He touched his fingers to his lips. “I barely felt that one. Try again.”

  “Oooh.” She wanted to smack him. He dipped his head, and their lips met. Brushed, released, brushed and released.

  She backed off. “Tell me more.”

  He continued. “I’m six foot and three and a half inches. How tall are you?”

  “Five feet and five inches.”

  “Hmm.”

  One of her eye
brows quirked. “Continue your story, sir.”

  “We had a piece of land in Galway and farmed it well. Still, we were always in poverty. I never knew anything but scraping by moment by moment, day by day. Amos hated poverty, but not the way the rest of us did. He hated it like it was a person. He fought with us all the time and took sides with Da. Said we all needed beating. Da finally kicked the stuffin’ out of him one day and that put an end to Amos’s loyalty. Amos didn’t stop taunting or hitting me, though.”

  She stared at the drab dark blue quilt on the bed as tears of anger for what he once endured threatened her eyes. “That is horrible.”

  “I fought back and sometimes Zeke managed to keep Amos away. Not always, though. Zeke couldn’t be there every moment of the day. I’ve got scars from our scraps. But everyone I knew in Galway lived this life…the poverty and sometimes the abuse of man to wife or child, so I was used to it. When I was fifteen, Da decided he’d rather kill us than take care of us. He tried setting fire to the house with us in it.”

  Mary Jane recoiled. “That is despicable.”

  “Ma managed to stop him and a neighbor restrained him. Authorities came and took my Da away. They planned to put him on trial for attempted murder, but Ma didn’t wait for the trial. She realized that if he wasn’t proven guilty, he’d come back and finish the deed. She didn’t want to take that chance. She packed up what she could carry and booked passage on the next ship bound for America. She’d saved some money that Da didn’t know about. We escaped and arrived in Philadelphia on January 4, 1840.”

  “Coming to a new country must have frightened you.”

  He nodded. “No more than the thought of my own Da killing me.” His solemn expression didn’t alter when he said, “Kiss me.”

  Though she was curious to hear about his venture to the United States, she wanted to explore his kiss just as much. She complied. His mouth barely moved under hers, so she coaxed him deeper. She tasted, lingered over his top lip and then the bottom, allowing her feelings, her need to heal him come to the fore.

  That stopped her cold.

  She wanted to banish his pain. Understand him on every level. The knowledge shook her.