by Linda Broday
Blue Boy tilted his head to the sky and released a mournful howl, raising gooseflesh on her arms.
“Hey, who goes there?” Quaid had caught sight of her through the saplings. “Stop!”
* * *
Two days later, Blue Boy’s grief-stricken howls remained burrowed deep in Laurel’s memory, like earthworms into soft, fertile soil. The teary-eyed hound blocked her vision very often.
Plus, there was Ollie’s confession of killing Vallens, but Laurel hadn’t pried out much more on the subject. Ollie only claimed she left him lying in the alley and it mystified Laurel what had happened to the body.
To escape, she set a relentless pace from sunup to sundown.
“Stop it, Laurel girl. You’re gonna drive yourself into an early grave.”
“Work never killed anyone.”
“Maybe not, but it dadblame sure makes it hard on a pitiful old woman.” Ollie glared. “And I cain’t find a blessed thing either. What did you do with my sparking dress?”
Guilt swallowed her. Until now, Laurel had never considered the clothing’s importance. She had added the threadbare dress to her rag drawer.
“It practically fell apart in my hands. It doesn’t even make a good rag.”
“You have some nerve. That dress brought me good luck. Now, what’ll I wear next time Curley asks me over to his place, nothing but my holey stockings and knit cap?”
Laurel tried to dodge the piercing stare. “Some folks might object to seeing that much of you.”
“You been acting strange since that visit to your homeplace. Wish you’d found it in you to talk to your family.”
“We’ve been over this a dozen times.”
“Stop livin’ in the dark. Spooks ’n such only prey in the dead of night. If you face that fear and stare it in the eye, daylight’ll come. That’s what grandpappy always said.”
“I promise I will.” Laurel kissed the wrinkled cheek. “A baby takes small, teetering steps before it learns to walk.”
“Leastways you ain’t crawling anymore. Reckon I can be grateful for that.” Ollie wagged her head. “Cain’t believe you threw away my dress.”
“I’ll buy you a new one.”
“Don’t want a stiff, store-bought dress. Cain’t get in the mood for loving when I’m all bound up.”
Laurel’s thoughts turned in another direction and things that bound. She whipped off the apron and grabbed a shawl.
“I have an errand to attend. I’ll be right back.”
It was time to set things straight.
Twenty-five
“To what do I owe this surprise?” Murphy’s wide smile crinkled the corners of his eyes.
Laurel fidgeted under the warm welcome. It made her job no less difficult. Nothing would deter her this time, not even if hell froze over, which it might before she finished.
“You have healthy color in your face at last.” Indeed, he added certain bloom to the fading plants around him. “I take it you walked to the garden on your own steam?”
“Yep, and it didn’t tire me a bit. Come, sit next to me.” He removed a pristine white handkerchief from his pocket and dusted off the stone bench.
“Don’t tell me you fired Nora. I didn’t see her when Annie let me in.” Or Brodie, who she prayed had business elsewhere. She perched on the bench.
“Nora has neglected her mother and herb garden long enough, so I sent her home. However, she comes to check on me every day.”
A deep breath bolstered her courage for what she must do.
“I should’ve spoken of this matter sooner and intended to the day of the shooting. You’ve been so ill I couldn’t bring myself to mention it until you recovered.”
“Sounds all-fired important.”
Laurel clenched her hands tightly in her lap.
“Please don’t hate me in the end. You must believe I never meant to hurt you in any way.”
“I could never hate you.” Murphy’s questioning glance didn’t ease waves of remorse. She easily imagined how rapidly anger and betrayal could swap ends with the curious stare.
“Reserve that until you know.” Laurel wet her dry lips. “I can’t marry you, not now, not tomorrow, not ever.”
She focused on the cracks in the walk. A few weeds sprouted between the mortar of the bricks—weeds that would take over unless a body kept them pulled. Once they got hold, getting them out required too much backbreaking work.
“You’re breaking our engagement?”
“I should’ve told you sooner. I’m very sorry.” She dared not glance up from the weeds. “I don’t expect you—”
“Whew! That’s a relief.”
Shock sped through her blood. She whirled to face him and ran smack into the most whimsical gleam.
“You’re not angry, disappointed, or humiliated?”
“Nope. I didn’t know how to go about telling you I’ve fallen in love with Nora. This saves us more loss of sleep.”
“You and Nora?”
Could she have misunderstood? Ollie always accused her of choosing to hear only what she wanted.
“I didn’t realize how deep my love ran. It just sneaked up on me over time and in the course of daily contact. I woke up one morning and knew Nora and I were meant to be together.”
“I’m elated for you both.”
Yet, this twinge of desolation confused her.
“I haven’t asked Nora to marry me yet. I first had to set things straight with you. No hard feelings, I hope.”
“She’s truly a lucky woman and had better appreciate what she has.” Laurel realized the other burrs and thistles would remain unless she told him everything. “I have more to tell you, Murphy, some of which may lower your opinion of me drastically.”
“Nothing can change what I already have come to know.”
“We’ll see.” Another cleansing gulp of air helped. “I lived on a farm not far from here until a fateful day right after I turned fifteen.”
For the next half hour, she bared her soul, told him about her life in St. Louis and what Taft forced on her.
“One night your brother came to the Black Garter.”
“Brodie? So my mind didn’t play tricks after all.”
Now came the judging part she’d most dreaded. She didn’t imagine the reproach behind the question. It didn’t arrive unexpected. Surely any warm-blooded man would experience a sense of betrayal that she’d kept horrible secrets from him.
“I knew him as Shenandoah, and yes, he paid for the privilege of my services.”
“You must’ve had a good laugh at my expense.”
“On the contrary, we had no wish to keep you in the dark. I never had anything other than the utmost respect and admiration for you.”
“I hope those aren’t simply words to mollify.”
“They’re not. Another thing—Brodie loves you. He’d cut off his right arm to prevent causing you a minute’s anguish.”
“I knew something ate at him. Couldn’t guess what.”
“The secret tore him apart.” She slid off the bench and took Murphy’s palm. “You gave me hope that I might one day live a normal life. Deceit goes against my nature, but belief I’d do more harm by confiding convinced me to keep quiet.”
“That’s enough. What purpose can dredging this up serve?”
“Hearing the whole sordid mess is the only way to absolve myself. I’m tired of living lies. You want the ugly truth? I tried to use you. In the struggle to redeem myself, I willingly did whatever I had to, even accept a proposal from someone I didn’t love—the greatest sin of all.”
“Sit back down. I’ll not have you belittling yourself.” Murphy pulled her back on the seat. “How did you escape from that hellish place? Did Brodie help?”
“He was wounded before he could return. Ollie got me out. We
came to Redemption for a fresh start and opened up the café.”
“My brother showing up must’ve soured things.”
“He threatened to tell my secret. I begged him and bought a week’s time so I might break the engagement in my own way.”
“But the bank robbery took care of that.”
“Yes. So I waited for the day when you grew strong enough.” She cast him a wry smile. “And to gain courage for the task.”
“You could’ve left and I would never have been the wiser.”
“I’ve gotten weary of running from my problems.”
“My dear Laurel. You have innate goodness and honor that nothing or no one will ever destroy.”
Murphy’s declaration summoned the gold nugget story Ollie had tried to sell her. Perhaps the lump of coal she saw herself as had developed a bit of shine. No luster, mind you, merely a small glint. But she had one more truth to reveal before she could rest easy.
“I’ve saved this last part on purpose. I never meant this to happen, but it has and no amount of wishing can change it.”
“I already know of your love for Brodie.”
Spit and thunder. Did the man read tea leaves?
“I fell head over heels in love the first time I laid eyes on him in St. Louis. But when he never returned for me, I didn’t expect to ever see him again. I figured he’d lost his life in the war or else his affection for me. Truth be told, Brodie Yates stirs a longing in my blood unlike any man. He walks near, and his mere presence makes me weak in the knees.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I love him with all my heart and soul.”
“A bullet might’ve laid me low but didn’t take my sense. I’ll have to admit you hid your truths far better than dear brother. I noticed how he followed your every move. He has a bad case of smitten-itis.”
“Swapping tales about me?” Brodie’s deep baritone made them both jump.
Laurel blushed that he’d caught them. Still, she had to admire the tall figure striding silently across the grass. And the tight cut of his trousers.
* * *
Brodie lounged inside an empty café after the last diner left for the evening. He preferred watching Laurel work from here much better than hiding in the shadows across the street as he’d done the last month. A need to have her beneath him, naked as a newborn, swelled a vital part of him until the seams of his britches threatened to split.
“Can I get you anything else?”
Coffee sloshed from his cup onto the table. He’d be remiss in thinking he affected her that much. Yet, he didn’t fool himself. He noticed the tired lines in her features.
“Darlin’, looking at you is feast enough. You wouldn’t understand a man’s appreciation for the sexy sway of hips in the quiet glow of lanterns…what it does to me.”
“What on earth gives you the right to suddenly spout such things after pretending me or this café ceased to exist? Best take your endearments, suggestive talk, and ogling to another who might wish it.”
Spots colored her cheeks bright pink. Flashing violet sparks declared battle and he had no dueling pistols.
Or walls to hide behind. Nothing but a white flag to wave.
“I had no idea you missed me that much.” He felt a lopsided grin drift into place. “Thought you wanted time to yourself.”
She wouldn’t know how often he turned toward the café.
Only to stop.
“That’s the thing, Brodie, your blessed desires are more important than a care about when or what a lady might wish.”
He probably deserved a tongue-lashing for a lot of reasons, but not for loving her. That wasn’t open for discussion.
Seemed odd that she continued to stand there tapping her foot instead of turning her back. The harmless compliment sure had made her mad enough to melt lead and make bullets.
“Murphy told me about your visit the other day.”
“And you presume that changes everything and I’ll fall in a puddle at your feet, grateful you remember I haven’t left.”
“If memory serves, dear lady, you set the boundaries. Do you recall the order to stop tempting? I suppose I could’ve fabricated that conversation—along with the pull of our bodies when we’re near.” Then he added softly, “Like now, when I want you so badly and I know you have the same yearning. Dare you deny that?”
Laurel did more crack-counting of the floor before she answered. “I can’t. Dear God, I wish it weren’t so.”
A gentle squeeze of her hand, a tug into the chair he pulled out brought her onto his lap. He cupped her face and tucked a strand of hair behind the delicate ear.
“Will you resist should I beg to have you in my bed?”
Her head dropped wearily to his shoulder. He drew her into the shelter of his arms.
“I’m afraid.”
“Of me? I left the chains and whip in my saddlebags.”
“Of myself. I trusted you once and lived to regret it. What happens this time after you satisfy your needs? Will you ride on to other conquests? I’ve known men who want only that which is unattainable. Once they have it, the luster fades.”
“Close your eyes and make a wish. I’ll wave a magic wand.”
“You can’t turn wishful thought into reality when you don’t know the nature of it.”
“Oh, but I do. Therefore, I have the power.”
Laurel leaned back. A teardrop poised on the tip of one sooty lash. More wetness glistened in the gaze that slid from behind the mask she had expertise at wearing.
For the first time he saw how deeply he’d hurt her. Anger, bitterness, and distance kept the depth of that pain hidden. Making up for misdeeds presented a mountainous task; still, he hadn’t shown the reserve card up his sleeve yet.
Brodie lightly traced the curve of her jaw. “Do as I ask. Pretend we’re at a masquerade. Be whoever or whatever you choose—bejeweled queen or beauteous gypsy maiden.”
Laurel bit her bottom lip, but lowered her lids. “And you shall wear no disguise, Sir Rogue?”
“No need when I’m probably the most charming, debonair sort of chap you’ll ever meet. Though I could be a ruthless buccaneer. I’ve always yearned to sail the seven seas on a frigate.”
At least her frown vanished. He scooted from beneath her and dropped to one knee.
“I want you more than anything in this world. I assure you my interest lies not in conquest and I’ve never had the slightest desire for the unattainable. Will you share my bed, beautiful masked lady, before I die an agonizing death?”
“No…I wouldn’t feel right making love in Murphy’s house.” A smile flirted with the edges of her mouth. “My bedroom is private and much closer.”
He extinguished the lanterns before following her up the creaking stairs. In case Ollie occupied the room across, he closed the door with care.
She came into his arms and the heat of their kiss dispelled any lingering qualms either might have had.
“My pirate scoundrel, sure you won’t have second thoughts?” Laurel asked, her voice husky with desire when he freed her mouth. “You know, the men in my bed too numerous to count? Worried that the color of your coin makes recalling your face impossible come light of day?”
“Darlin’, your mask is slipping. Remember, you can be anyone you desire,” he whispered in her ear.
A silver shaft of moonlight through the window bathed her slim form in unearthly beauty. The die was cast and the bullet mold safely put away. Brodie could no more turn back now than cease drawing air.
“This game… Does it call for capture and plunder?”
“Only the most painless, temporary kind. Worried?”
“I believe in our love and that destiny meant us to be together.”
“You’re a fire in my blood since before I arrived at this party and more so after spying you across the room. You drive me
utterly, totally, indescribably insane.” The words came out so hoarse and raspy he almost didn’t recognize his own voice.
“Don’t throw yourself on your sword this soon, my pirate.”
The easing of a few buttons gave him access to her elegant neck. Trailing a path, he tongue-danced down the curve, exploring the rapid pulse at her throat before lace and fabric prevented further progress.
He made quick work on the remaining buttons, and the bodice and skirt slid to the floor in a rippling heap.
The thin chemise created a flimsy shield at best. He cupped a breast and expertly rolled a nipple to a hard nib. Laurel jerked his shirt over his head, apparently finding the fastenings too slow, before starting on the britches.
They tore off the remaining clothing in a fevered rush. Satisfaction came only after she bore meager similarity to the naked mural that hung over the bar in the saloon. He buried his face in the fragrant softness of her bosom. The beat of her racing heart mesmerized. He didn’t know what the future held. Frankly, he didn’t give a damn. He wanted only to freeze this moment and preserve it until time and eternity merged into one.
“When you didn’t come, I presumed you didn’t want me.”
“Foolish lady. Don’t you know I always will?”
His mouth met hers again. Her lips parted, allowing his tongue freedom.
Tasting.
Thrusting.
Each place Brodie drew flirtatious circles around raised prickles on her bared flesh. He curled his leg around hers. Exploration led him across her navel to the downy juncture of her thighs. Hot wetness encompassed his touch.
Laurel’s fingertips grazed his chest hair and each brown nipple. And when she reached to grasp his stiff arousal, he shuddered and clenched his jaw to keep from giving in to pleasure so near he feared to draw another breath.
As if reading his mind, she stopped and became very still.
Between them no time and space existed. Brodie could no longer tell where her soft curves began and his hard muscle ended.
Vague thoughts intruded his passion-dulled senses. Faint remembrances of a line in the sand he’d drawn and now had crossed barely remained. He could never return there, for Laurel stole his good sense, his heart. She instilled a reason for seeking to become a better man than he’d ever been or even imagined he could be.
