The Piper_The Eleventh Day

by Amanda McIntyre

  “I’m quite certain I don’t know what you mean,” Genevieve replied with a sniff.

  “What I mean is, I’d stake my life that you remember that kiss on the veranda as much as I do.”

  Lord above. She looked away, scrambling her wits. He did remember! “What kiss?” she attempted, albeit miserably, to be coy.

  Truth be told, for years after she thought of it as one would hold tight to a blanket—every night—snuggling into the memory to keep her safe and secure. It was a woman’s prerogative to cling to the familiar, wasn’t it? Hadn’t she just been made a widow? The protocol that she should be mourning over her dead husband caused her to push away a young soldier’s affections—even as his honor and duty agreed. Hadn’t he told her then how he’d fallen in love with her through the letters he’d been asked to read aloud to her husband? He’d been his confidant. The man he’d trusted with the most intimate details of his--and her--personal life.

  In a moment of grief—weak from her recent loss and vulnerable—she’d kissed him. It was a not a kiss shared between strangers. Rather, two hearts intimately knit together by admiration, respect, and yes, by common loss.

  “I shall not lie to you,” he said gruffly.

  She met his steady gaze.

  “I’m glad that Penny ran away,” he said.

  “What an awful thing to say about your intended,” Genevieve admonished.

  “Is it worse than to live a lie and be with someone you don’t care for?”

  She glanced away. “No, I suppose not.”

  “Or worse,” he said quietly, “living without the one you truly care about?”

  Genevieve’s heart tumbled. She could not bring herself to look at the man. Fearful that he was validating what Penny had been able to see—what countless other in town might already suspect. She swallowed. “I think our focus should be on finding Penny.”

  “You mentioned that you received the note this morning. Why then, have you waited until midday to advise me on this matter?” he asked. “Penny must be nearly to the train by now.”

  Genevieve hesitated. Were she to answer directly, she’d be admitting something that only now was she beginning to resolve herself. What type of matchmaker would that make her? Would it be a betrayal to the pact she’d made with Penny, to the Society, and the pastor of Noelle? But had Penny really shown a willingness to try again at marriage, or was it simply Genevieve’s determined hope that she would?

  “I suppose I was debating the situation,” she said quietly. She lowered herself onto one of his table chairs. She’d folded and refolded Penny’s note a number of times to the point the paper was tearing slightly. This was worse than any poker game she’d watched men play. She was carefully trying not to show her hand--what she still felt for him--at least, not before she knew his intentions.

  “Debating what, precisely, Mrs. Walters?”

  “Please,” she said with a little more force than necessary. “It’s Genevieve.” She glanced at him then, softening her tone. “Please call me Genevieve. It’s not as though we don’t know each other.”

  He held her eyes with his captivating blue-eyed gaze. “Very well, Genevieve.”

  The softness in his tone caressed her every bit as though he’d touched her physically. Her body ached, remembering the pleasure, the passion between a man and a woman.

  “Why are you here, Genevieve?”

  There it was. She now had the choice to turn away—refuse this fragile second chance of something she didn’t fully understand. For months, she’d been tutoring others on this very thing—encouraging them to take a leap of faith, embrace a new beginning. But was she able to heed her own advice? Life out here was far different, far more uncertain, more dangerous than New York or Denver.

  “Why don’t you read me Penny’s note?” he asked.

  She studied his challenging gaze, aware that if the circumstances were different—if she were more brazen like Madame Bonheur or the other girls at La Maison des Chats--she might well be climbing into that tub with him at this very moment. She was no virgin. Still, her face heated madly from her thoughts.

  “Is that pretty blush on my account, or from the content of the note? Either way, I am intrigued,” he said, his mouth curling wickedly at one corner.

  Genevieve took a cleansing breath and began to read Penny’s note aloud, careful to be as clear and concise in the process, even though her skin seemed to be on fire. “We can correspond once I’m settled. I shall look forward to hearing more about this man you believe represents the best possible husband. If he is as wonderful as you say he is…” Genevieve cleared her throat, the truth buckling her ability to speak clearly. She moistened her lips, unable to look at Zeke. “Then perhaps you should consider him for yourself,” she finished reading.

  A soft chuckle brought her eyes to his. “You debated coming here because you weren’t certain if what Penny said was true, or if I might feel similarly?”

  Genevieve straightened, plucking an imaginary thread from her skirt. After all, she was a woman—a woman with needs. Not unlike a man. She lifted one shoulder slightly. “I suppose the possibility has since crossed my mind,” she said, hoping the lilt in her voice didn’t give away her uncertainty. “Nonetheless, how was I to know you even remembered me?” But he saw right through her façade, offering a sexy, toe-curling smile.

  “I’d like to offer you a deal,” he said.

  “A deal, Mr. Kinnison?”

  “I want to hear you call me, Zeke.” He raised a brow.

  She found it a strange bargaining chip, but complied. “Very well, Zeke.”

  His grin widened. “That, Genevieve, was not the deal. But I do admire the sound of my name on your tongue.”

  Tingles. So many tingles.

  “My deal is this,” he said. “Stay with me this afternoon and allow me to address—at least—some of your concerns.”

  Desire heated Genevieve’s blood. He hadn’t proposed anything of a carnal nature, of course. But what else could a naked man in a tub mean by such a proposal?

  “If, by some chance, you decide that your coming here was a mistake, then we shall part amiably. Agreed?”

  “Oh,” she said with a demur smile. “You’re not that kind of man, Mr. Kinnison. You deserve better.”

  “Indeed, Genevieve. And I’m determined to convince you in every way possible that I have found the very best woman I could ever hope for. I want you, dear woman, to be my partner, my wife, my lover—my friend.” He held her gaze and held out his hand. “And with any luck, you’ll take off those pretty shoes, take my hand, and let me convince you.”

  A joyous freedom bubbled inside her. She leaned down, unlacing her boots with quick dexterity and pulled them off, setting them carefully next to his by the front door. A sense of belonging, of being safe—being loved—settled over her. She’d not thought her heart could ever feel this way—so alive, so full of promise—again.

  She stood and walked to the edge of the tub and put her hand in his. “I may need help with my dress.” With a rumbling laugh, he tugged her into the tub, freeing the shackles she’d placed around her heart.

  “That, my love, will not be a problem.” He cupped her cheek, his calloused fingers brushing over her skin. He leaned forward and kissed her with a tender reverence. Years of pushing away memories melted as his kisses deepened, becoming more insistent. Every nerve in her body awoke to the luxurious sensation of being held in his arms.

  “You’ve no idea how many nights I lay awake thinking of you like this.” He pulled back, holding her gaze as his fingers caressed her cheek, trailing down the front of her throat to the top buttons of her bodice. He unfastened each, exposing her skin above her underpinnings. “I’ve imagined how soft your skin is, how it would taste against my mouth.”

  His gentle seduction encouraged her to place her hand over his and guide him to the swell just above her corset. She smoothed her hand over his bare shoulder, relishing the sinewy muscle bunching, moving beneath her
fingers. Lost in the euphoric bliss of his heated kisses, the taste of whiskey on his tongue, the all-male scent of him—she squealed when he stood and lifted her in his arms. Her sodden clothes left a watery trail across the floor. He gently dropped her to her feet by the bed.

  “You’ll be warmer out of those clothes, Genevieve. I promise.”

  He didn’t have to ask her twice.

  Chapter 14

  Zeke watched her sleep for the better part of an hour. Even in the throes of passion that afternoon, he’d seen the dark circles beneath her beautiful eyes, wishing he could take away her worry about the railroad agreement and her part in it.

  He sat on the edge of the bed and picked up the watch fob that had belonged to his Captain. Zeke felt a familiar guilt breeze over his heart. He had still a great deal of respect for his captain—his friend—even this long after his death. But his heart wholly as loyally to the precious woman lying asleep in his bed.

  “He chose you, I think.” He felt her gentle hand on his back. He shifted to look at her, astounded by the grace he’d been given of Providence bringing her to him again after all these years.

  “Chose me?” Zeke asked. His heart was full, yet his good fortune warred with his guilt.

  “You told me once that you fell in love with me through my letters to Levi,” she said looking up at him, her dark hair spilling over her pale shoulders.

  “God help me, I did. But I never wanted…never thought--” He looked away unable to finish.

  “Never thought that you’d have to follow through on the promise you had made? Levi may have been a great captain, but I think he knew his love for me was not the kind he saw on your face as you read my letters to him.”

  Zeke caught her gaze. “How could he know?”

  She smiled softly. “Because, my love, I see how you look at me. Even now as you did the first time we met.”

  “I cannot deny what I felt then, or now.” Zeke was afraid to allow his good fortune to last, however. Her life was in Denver. What had changed in the last few hours was knowing he belonged in her arms, but not knowing whether to stay in Noelle or go with her to Denver.

  Zeke smiled. She hadn’t flinched, hadn’t run when his scars came into view in the flickering lamplight. Quite the opposite--she traced each one, followed by a tender kiss, the gesture alone earning another hour of bliss in her arms.

  “You realize you snore,” he said, lifting an errant lock of hair from her face.

  “You’re fibbing.” Her eyes widened, her cheeks blushing faintly.

  He grinned. “I swear it’s true. Thought you might wake the dead.”

  She batted his arm, but smiled all the same.

  It wasn’t a topic he wanted to broach, but it was better to know now the lay of the land. Had this been an afternoon of pure bliss simply been intended to make up for some missed opportunity years before?

  “You’re thinking,” she said, eyeing him. “About what?”

  He searched her eyes. “Us, I guess. What’s to happen now?”

  She pulled the blanket up around her as she sat up. “That depends, I suppose,” she said.

  “Depends?”

  “On how we feel?” She shrugged, her smile accentuating her well-kissed lips. Mischief sparkled in her dark eyes. Just looking at her made him want to forget the realities of the world outside and take her back into his arms. He shifted and cleared his throat. They needed to talk. Their future depended on it.

  “I think you know how I feel, Genevieve. I’ve been very clear on my position. And at present, there is nothing that appeals to me more than showing you once again what you mean to me. How I long to make you happy…if you’ll have me. But I cannot ask you to give up your life’s work in Denver.”

  “Well, that’s a fine how-do-you-do. I’ll have you know, Mr. Kinnison, that I am not one of those saloon girls you can bed and walk away from without another thought.”

  Zeke listened carefully, his heart hoping he’d heard what she was trying to say. “I do not see you in that way, Genevieve,” he said calmly. This odd banter was not helping his decision to not touch her again until this matter was settled.

  “A good man, a decent man would offer a proposal of marriage,” she offered with a raised brow.

  Zeke’s heart nearly flew from his chest. “I would be honored if you would marry me, Genevieve. And I don’t care if we live in Denver, Noelle--anywhere you wish. As long as we’re together--that’s all that matters to me.” He leaned over and kissed her softly. “Say you’ll marry me.” He leaned back to search her beautiful eyes. “Tonight.”

  A smile brightened her face. She hugged his neck. “Yes, of course. We can get married and then there will be only one position left to fill.”

  Zeke grinned and raised his brow.

  “You are incorrigible, Mr. Kinnison,” she smiled, brushing her hands through his hair.

  He lowered his mouth to hers. There was much to get resolved. Where would they live? What might become of Noelle? How would he force himself to leave this bed, stand before a crowd to speak his vows, and not be thinking of getting her right back here the whole time?

  Zeke guided Buttercup and Blue hitched to his wagon sleigh down the darkening trail. Twin oil lamps swayed on the posts providing a bit of light to their path.

  There was no question she wanted to marry him. No question he wanted to marry her. She reached beneath the lap blanket and rested her hand on his knee.

  “Be careful, Genevieve. Or I’ll not be able to properly present myself before Pastor Hammond.” He gave her a lop-sided grin.

  She moved her hand away and he grabbed it bringing it to his lips for a gentle kiss. “Have you considered how your family in Denver will respond to our marriage?”

  She smiled and rested her cheek on his shoulder. “I doubt you remember how quite taken my mother-in-law was with you, sir. You were truly a calm in her world at a most difficult time. She will be thrilled. However…” She paused and they rode a moment or two in silence.

  Zeke felt the smack of a brisk cold wind on his freshly shaven face. He knew by the scent in the air that a snow storm would be arriving within days. They would need to make a decision quickly of when to leave if they wanted to reach the train before snow made travel through the mountain pass dangerous.

  “What if we were to stay here in Noelle?” She seemed far away in her thoughts. “Of course, with Penny on her way now to Denver that would resolve the mission needing to find another director. I could simply write them a not offering my full recommendation of her.” Her sigh held a note of resignation. “I only wish I’d been able to speak with her before she left.”

  Puzzled that she’d want to stay in the barely civilized town, he took her hand in his. “Are you certain this is what you want, Genevieve?”

  She straightened and pinned him with a determined look. “Do you feel I’m not suited to live in Noelle?”

  “Of course not. It’s just that I thought you might miss all the fine houses, the shops, and afternoon teas.”

  “Christian Ezekiel, my life’s work has been in a mission funded by a church organization. The finer things in life are nice, I suppose. But there are things far greater and much more satisfying.” She smiled up at him, her face aglow in the moonlight coming over the ridge.

  He grinned. “Woman, I do like the way you think.”

  “You’ll always know what I’m thinking.” She held his gaze. “Quite possibly if you want to hear it or not.” She nudged his shoulder.

  “It’s one of the things I admire about you, Genevieve. That and I confess I’m brought to my knees every time you say my name.” He pulled on the reins and brought the wagon to stop. They sat in front of the Golden Nugget.

  “The wagon has stopped,” she said, her eyes locked with his.

  “That’s because I wish to kiss you.” He leaned forward.

  She averted his advance with an ornery grin. “After we’re married, Mr. Kinnison.” She glanced at the crowd gathered outsid
e the Nugget saloon. “We’re here to ask Pastor Hammond to marry us. Why, folks might get the wrong idea were they to see us kiss in public.”

  “I suspect” --he leaned down to whisper in her ear--“they are curious about who is getting married tonight.”

  Zeke hopped down from the wagon and heard the whispered comments about his clean-shaven face. He lifted Genevieve to her feet and offered his arm. Amid inquisitive looks the onlookers parted as they entered the saloon.

  Inside, Woody, Jack, and Pastor Hammond were busy arranging the chairs into short, neat rows.

  “Well, Pastor Hammond, you can’t say we didn’t do our best,” Woody said aloud. “Noelle has seen ten marriages in the past few days. That’s something we can be proud of. Surely the railroad would allow us to compromise a bit?”

  Molly Thornton with her precious goose tucked beneath the arm of her new husband, Storm followed Zeke and Genevieve into the room and took seats close to the door.

  “He will make a wonderful father,” Genevieve whispered to Zeke looking at Storm and the goose.

  “Mrs. Walters.” Pastor Hammond walked to her, his hand extended to take hers. “Culver has already explained everything.”

  Zeke looked around the room and realized Nacho and Fina; Woody and his wife, Meizhen; Jack’s wife, Birdie; and Jack’s grandfather, Gus, were already seated. Even Sherriff Draven, looking a lot less sour than usual, was there with Pearl.

  “Do you have any idea what’s going on?” Zeke leaned down to whisper in Genevieve’s ear.

  She shook her head. “Good evening Pastor Hammond. I’m so sorry about Penelope.”

  Pastor Hammond offered Zeke a smile. “Yes, I can see the groom-to-be is terribly distraught.”

  The door opened and Liam Fulton and his bride, Avis, walked in. Following close behind was Doc Deane and his new bride, Cara, as well as Minnie and her husband, Hugh Montgomery.

  “Pastor Hammond,” Genevieve said. “If you’ll excuse me a moment, I need to return this to Birdie. But I believe Mr. Kinnison needs a word with you.”