Hard muscles rippled beneath her palm as he tightened his embrace. Her hand stroked his bare skin while her fingers wove through the crisp mat of hair covering his chest. Heat twisted in her belly and radiated outward to her limbs. She took a deep breath to clear her thoughts, but when she did, she inhaled his scent.
Remnants of tobacco smoke and strong drink lingered on his clothing, but beneath it, trapped between his shirt and bare skin, emanated the primitive essence of a virile man. It was definitely masculine, but not unpleasant. In some elemental way, she found it comforting. And exhilarating.
Frightened by these unfamiliar feelings, she tried to pull from his embrace. Her body twisted in his arms in an attempted to free herself. The movement caused her breasts to slide across his naked, hairy chest. She sucked in her breath at the touch of his warm skin against her bare breasts.
“Please, stop,” she said in a half-hearted attempt to gain control over her growing desire.
“What’s wrong? Don’t you trust me? You just promised me you would.”
“I do,” she lied. “I just don’t like you holding me this close. You reek of cigar smoke and rum,” she said as an excuse.
He laughed a quiet rumbling sound that reverberated in his chest. “You found me in a tavern. What did you expect me to smell like?”
His mood turned serious and his voice deepened. “What about our second kiss?”
“I don’t want you to kiss me like that again.”
“Why not? Didn’t you like it?” he whispered against her ear. “Or perhaps you liked it too well?”
“I-I don’t know.” Being next to him confused her mind and stirred sensations she’d never experienced.
“Uncertainty is a terrible thing.” His lips glided across her cheek. “Why don’t we find out together?”
His mouth brushed over hers. He nibbled and tugged at hers lips. When he turned his head, the kiss deepened. Moist heat from his mouth surrounded hers just before his tongue caressed her lower lip and brushed across her upper.
She struggled with the contradiction of her emotions. Fear and excitement. She should make him stop, but she didn’t want his kiss to end.
He ignited her body. A pool of liquid fire spread inside her belly. She wanted this dark-haired, blue-eyed pirate to hold her in his arms and make her body burn.
Chapter Three
Payton felt her resistance fade and pushed for his advantage. When her lips parted, he thrust his tongue into her mouth. Her hands pressed against his chest, but she didn’t shove him away.
His body reacted to her silent acquiescence. He’d been aroused by their first kiss. Now he stiffened painfully. Their kiss had to end, or he’d take her here, now, against the wall. He loosened his embrace and withdrew from her.
Her tongue followed his retreat and entered his mouth. She stroked him as he’d done to her. He tried to move away, but her hands slid up his chest and around his neck. She clutched at him, urging him closer. Her warm, bare breasts pressed against his naked skin.
Heated blood hammered through his veins. Putting both arms around her, he pulled her against his throbbing body. When a tiny moan escaped from her, Payton forgot everything else. It didn’t matter where they were, nor the danger around them. His senses demanded fulfillment. His body craved release.
His hand stroked down her body. He grabbed her leg and wrapped it around his thigh. His fingers pushed back the edge of her skirt as he searched for bare flesh. She should be hot and wet, and he ached to touch her.
“Stop.” She pushed against his chest with both hands.
“I want you,” he uttered in a growl.
“Let me go.”
Hearing the panic in her voice, he regained control of his body. He put his hand over her mouth as his other arm encircled her waist. “Be still. I’m not going to force you.”
She trembled in his arms. For fear she’d fall, he pulled her closer. After she took a deep breath and let it out with a ragged sound, he relaxed his embrace.
“What in the bloody hell are you doing here?” he demanded in a harsh whisper.
“What?” She sounded bewildered.
“How did you end up alone in such a dangerous part of town?”
“I got lost.”
“Don’t treat me like a fool,” he warned. “You didn’t come here by yourself. Who brought you?”
“I wasn’t with anyone,” she insisted.
“Don’t lie to me,” he snapped. “Who was he? Your lover?”
“Certainly not,” she said with a huff.
“I didn’t think so. You don’t strike me as that kind of woman. Is that why he dumped you out here alone?”
“He didn’t dump—I mean, that is, no one left me here. I was trying to get a carriage. I must have walked in the wrong—”
“He was either a fool, or a coward,” he interrupted her poor attempt at an excuse. “If you were my woman, I’d never leave you here alone. But you already know that, since you entrusted me with your life. I suppose that makes you my woman.”
“I am not your woman.”
“Aren’t you?” The back of his knuckles smoothed across her cheek. He pressed against her chin and tilted her head so the dim light glanced across her face. “Just because we haven’t physically consummated our relationship, doesn’t mean you’re not my woman. I’ve never felt this possessiveness, nor protectiveness for any woman. I feel as if there’s an invisible bond linking us together.”
“Don’t do that.” She grasped his wrist and pulled his hand from her face.
“You can quit worrying. I told you I wouldn’t force you. If I was that kind of man, I would’ve already had you.”
The sound of heavy boots shuffling along the boarded walk alerted Payton. He pulled her deeper into the alcove.
Three men stumbled out of the foggy darkness.
“Shove off, mates,” he ordered.
The trio seemed startled at first, but continued their drunken stagger down the walk. Their footsteps faded into the distance.
“We had better get out of here.” He pulled her hood back into place before taking her hand.
They hurried along the streets without stopping until they neared the Square.
“Where’s your hotel?”
“On Powell Street.” When they turned the corner, she stretched out her arm and pointed. “There it is.”
A few feet from the entrance of the hotel, he tugged on her hand and forced her to turn to him. “Time to pay up, Angel.”
She gazed at his face. His bold, masculine features weren’t gentled by the brighter lighting of the Square. Nor the desire reflected in his eyes. She made a deliberate attempt to dig through the little bag dangling from her arm. “How much do you want?”
“I told you I didn’t want your money.” He slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him. “You promised to give me whatever I wanted.”
She swallowed hard, hoping to keep the shiver from her voice. “I asked you not to demand more than I could give.”
“You should be able to give me this. I want you to spend the day with me.”
“The day?” she repeated, surprised at his suggestion.
“Aye. I’d like for us to get to know each other better so you won’t be so afraid of me.” His tentative smile vanquished the hardness from his features.
At times he’d behaved like a savage pirate, yet his sensitivity astounded her. “I’m not so frightened of you now.”
“Then it’s agreed. I’ll be back for you in the morning. There’s a place called the Cliff House not far from here where we could have a late breakfast. If it’s not too foggy, we could watch sea lions play in the surf.”
“That would be nice.” She almost sighed, but the reality of the situation hit her cruelly. She glanced down so he couldn’t see her face. Her voice contained no emotion when she spoke. “That won’t give me much time to sleep.”
“You’ll have a few hours. I have something to do first thing in the morning. I�
�ll be back for you around ten. Will that be good?”
“Yes, later would be good. There’s something I have to do early also.” She had to pack her bags and leave San Francisco at first light. By the time he arrived, she would be gone. “Ten o’clock should be perfect.”
“It is perfect,” he agreed. His smile warmed her. “This will be our third bargain.”
She placed her hand against his chest when he tightened his embrace. “Does that mean three kisses?”
“That would be my hope.” The dimple showed in his cheek.
Her heart thumped; her breathing halted. Her lips parted as she anticipated his kiss. She slipped her fingers beneath the open edge of his shirt and touched his naked skin. Her hand skimmed across his muscular chest as she threaded her fingers through the crisp mat of hair. Her mind reeled in wonderment. He seemed so strong, so powerful, yet he treated her with tenderness.
Desire struggled with her conscience. She’d never been with a man before, but she craved a night of passion with this dark-haired pirate. Her body shivered at the thought of them entwined in each other’s arms. She wanted to burn from his kisses while her hands wandered over his naked skin. Tonight they could find pleasure in each other’s arms, and for a few hours, she could push all dark memories from her mind.
But he wanted tomorrow, and that she couldn’t give. Tomorrow she had to return to the daunting task of finding her brother’s killer.
Just before their lips met, she turned her face from him. “I don’t want you to kiss me.”
“You don’t trust me?”
“Perhaps it’s myself I don’t trust.” At least that remark didn’t contain a lie. If he kissed her again, she might give in to the passion that burned within.
“With the way you kiss, we’d most certainly make a spectacle of ourselves in front of this respectable hotel,” she gave as an excuse.
“You’re probably right.” He breathed a heavy sigh as he released her. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
He held the door open for her. After she entered, she turned back to him. She owed him too much to send him away without a word.
“Thank you, captain. I truly am grateful for all you’ve done for me tonight. In the short time I’ve known you, you’ve saved my life more than once. You truly are a man of courage and honor. And decency,” she added before turning away.
“Wait,” he said from the entrance. “I don’t know your name.”
“My name?” Julia turned back while trying to remember the name she’d used to register. “Smith. Sally Smith.”
He cocked his head to one side while he studied her. “You don’t look like a Sally. I think I’ll just call you Angel.”
“Whatever you wish,” she said, before continuing through the hotel lobby.
“Angel,” she heard him call out from the doorway. “I’m not forgetting. You owe me three kisses.”
Chapter Four
The morning fog had not burned off as Payton made his way down the street. The cool, moist air tingled against the exposed skin on his face and neck. He only now realized the warm advantage of a beard and long hair, but he wanted to look his best when he once again met the angel who seemed to have materialized from the smoky haze of the tavern last night.
The man at the public bathhouse had probably thought Payton something out of the depths of hell when he’d pounded on his door this morning and forced him to open early. A large display of cash had made the proprietor more cooperative. Of course the man had charged him an exuberant fee for a shave, haircut, and hot bath, but it’d been worth every cent. He felt clean and civilized and no longer smelled like a tavern.
His pace slowed when he noticed a crowd in front of the Double Eagle Shipping Company. A prickly feeling on the back of his neck warned him this would be bad news.
The company was located in the middle of the business district. Most of the spectators wore black suits and starched white collars. He approached a well-dressed man at the back of the crowd. “What’s going on?”
“Dead body.” The lack of emotion in his voice revealed this wasn’t an uncommon occurrence even though they stood in a better section of San Francisco.
“Do you know who it is?”
“The owner. Old man Hennigan.”
“Bloody hell,” he swore softly. “How did he die?”
The man shrugged. “They were loading him into the meat wagon when I got here.”
Disgusted, Payton shook his head as he watched the conveyance pull away. A dead man couldn’t give up any secrets.
He looked back at the shipping company. The crowd had moved from the front of the building where a solitary figure remained in the opened doorway.
“Mr. Stover,” he called out when he recognized him. “I’m Captain Tyler. I had an appointment with Mr. Hennigan this morning.”
“He’s dead.”
“So I heard. What happened?”
The man wrinkled his forehead as he looked Payton over carefully. “What did you say your name was?”
He smiled as he smoothed his hand over his naked jaw. “I’ve cleaned up some since I was here yesterday.”
“You surely have. Come on in. I’ve got coffee on.”
Stover offered him a seat by a large, oak desk while he poured coffee into a plan white mug. He slumped into a leather chair across from Payton and let out a heavy sigh. “I’m glad I don’t have to be the one to break the news to his wife.”
“How did he die?”
“Suicide.”
“Are you certain?” he asked, shocked that he took his own life.
The assistant shipping clerk nodded. “A bullet hole in his left temple.” His voice quaked when he spoke, as though he recalled the scene in his mind.
“His left temple?” he repeated.
Stover seemed to guess Payton’s thoughts. “He was left handed. That’s why I’m certain it was suicide. Not many people would have known that and been clever enough to put the derringer in his left hand.”
“A derringer? I think I would’ve used something bigger, just to make sure I did the job proper.”
“He did have something bigger.” He leaned over the desk and lowered his voice. “That’s the thing. He kept a Colt Dragoon around here for protection. You know what it’s like here after dark.”
Payton nodded.
“I’m familiar with the other firearms he had, but I’ve never seen that derringer before.”
“So you think it wasn’t suicide after all?”
“No, I think he did it. Especially with the way he’s been acting these last few months.”
“How’s that?”
“Very different. Like he was scared all the time. Real nervous and jumpy.”
Stover must have realized to whom he spoke. His body stiffened, forcing him upright in his chair. “The old man turned white as a sail when I gave him your note and told him you wanted to see him.”
“Then he was here yesterday when I came by?”
“Yeah, but he ordered me to tell you he was out.”
“I knew it.” Payton swore under his breath. “I should have tried harder or done something more.”
“No sense blaming yourself for his suicide. I saw how he was acting, but there wasn’t anything I could’ve done either.”
“Do you know what worried him? Was it his financial situation? Or something else?” He put a heavy emphasis on the last question.
He could almost see the cogs turn in Stover’s mind as he tried to determine if he should talk to a stranger about his dead employer.
“There was nothing wrong with his finances. His wife made sure of that.”
He raised his eyebrows in silent question. That prodded Stover to continue.
“The shipping company belonged to his wife’s family. Mrs. Hennigan came down here every month and went over the books herself. If he didn’t have every penny accounted for, there’d be hell to pay. Threatened to divorce him more than once and leave him penniless.”
“I’m
beginning to see why he killed himself,” he said half jokingly.
“What’s your interest in this, Captain Tyler?”
Payton studied him while deciding how much to reveal. “Have you ever heard of Lawrence Dunbar?”
“Oh, yeah.” His lips contorted as if a dirty taste lingered there. “When the old man started running with Dunbar’s crowd, that’s when the real trouble started with the wife. Betsy Dunbar ran a brothel on Montgomery Street in the better part of town.”
“Dunbar’s wife?”
“No, his mother. Dunbar would make friends with wealthy businessmen and take them to her place. She had everything there. Prostitutes. Gambling. Opium.”
“His wife put a stop to that when she found out?”
“Oh, yeah.” Stover nodded. “That whole setup ended about five years ago, though. Betsy married one of her rich clients. Frederick Collins I think his name was. Moved to his home in Sacramento. I hear she’s quite the society dame there. Goes by the name of Elizabeth now. Thinks it sounds more sophisticated.”
“So she lives in Sacramento with Collins?”
A sharp crack of laughter erupted from the shipping clerk. “Her husband’s dead. She got his fortune, his home, and all the respectability his money could buy. Figure that one out.”
“I don’t think it’d take a lot of thought. I already know what her son is capable of.”
“Why are you interested in Dunbar?”
“I ran into him down around Central America.”
“So that’s where he ended up. I heard he went to the Bahamas. He got accused of murder right after his mother married. Had to leave California real quick. What’s he doing there? More gambling and prostitution?”
“No, piracy and murder—to name a few.”
“Piracy?” Stover’s eyes opened wider. “Did he hit your ship?”
Payton nodded. “That was his first mistake.”
“And his second?”
A tight knot clenched in his belly as he recalled the atrocities Dunbar had committed. “He was responsible for the death of a good friend.”
Payton's Woman Page 3
