Denim and Lace

by Rice, Patricia

  Sloan frowned at her proximity to the spirited thoroughbred. He caught her arm to pull her back to safety.

  Hawk stood near the door, watching Sam with curiosity. At her handling of the mare, he wandered forward. The hand previously in his pocket appeared now, bearing chunks of raw sugar.

  Gallant snickered and eagerly accepted the offering.

  "I have never seen her like," Hawk said, running his hand down the animal's graceful neck. "Your father breeds these?"

  Sam shrugged. "He used to. I've been in charge since before the war, while he was more interested in munitions. My father's horse is full-blooded brother to this one."

  Hawk stroked the horse and looked tentatively from Sam to Sloan. Sloan still held a possessive hand on Sam’s back, keeping her a safe distance from the animal and any man but himself. Hawk almost smiled at this dead giveaway, but their relationship wasn't any business of his own. He smacked the horse's neck appreciatively.

  "The animal is as much a clue as the portrait you gave me. I will track your father much faster if the horse is in my possession."

  Samantha jerked as if shot, then looked from Hawk to Sloan with distress. Sloan shook his head in dismissal. "The lady prizes her horse. She wouldn't care to lose it."

  "I will not lose it." Hawk looked to Sam. "I will give you my own horse. He is much better for the mountains, as this one is meant for the valleys. I will treat him as my own kin and bring him back to you when I am done."

  She didn' t want to give up Gallant. She had surrendered her virginity for her father's sake, but she had done that because she wanted to. It hadn't been a sacrifice. To give up Gallant would be a sacrifice.

  Taking a controlling breath, she dipped her head in agreement. "I would see your horse first, to be certain Gallant will be treated well."

  Sloan shook his head in disapproval, but Hawk looked satisfied. It wasn't for either man to say what was right. She followed Hawk to examine his mountain pony.

  By the time they retraced their tracks to the hotel, the afternoon was waning. Samantha was unusually silent, but she had approved the exchange of horses. Hawk's horse was well-bred, sturdy, and carefully tended. As horse deals went, it was fair enough, if she had some hope of finding her father as part of the bargain.

  In these last few months she had wagered and bargained away a good deal of the life she had once known. She didn't think she was the same person she had been when she had left Tennessee. A good deal of that was due to the man beside her.

  She glanced up at Sloan. He, too, was unusually silent. She didn't think he understood how much she wanted her father back. Perhaps he didn't know what it was to love someone so much that you would do anything for them. Perhaps he ought to be grateful he didn't.

  Sloan Talbott was a handsome, intelligent man. It seemed odd to think that he might never have known love in his life, but it was possible. He certainly didn't make it easy for anyone to get close to him. She rubbed her fingers along the fine wool of his coat where she held his arm, drawing his gaze down to her.

  "Thank you for helping me," she said softly. It was something that needed saying. She hadn't expected him to do as much as he had, and she was forfeiting very little in return. She would more than likely have done what she had for nothing, but she wouldn't tell him that.

  "Don't thank me. I've got what I wanted. I just hope your damned father is worth what you've given up." His response was gruff. He didn't look at her when he said it.

  She didn't expect anything more of him. Sloan Talbott had lived too much on his own. He didn't know how to respond to genuine emotion.

  He pushed open the hotel door and helped her in. When she straightened her hoop and gown and looked up, Sloan was standing stiffly at her side, his hand crushing hers as he stared at something or someone rising from a chair near the wall. She could feel the fury emanating from him without even seeing his expression. She looked to see what he saw, and uttered a low groan of dismay.

  Doc Ramsey was coming toward them, holding out his hand and grinning with malicious delight.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  “Well, imagine running into you here, Talbott."

  Ramsey made a mocking bow when Sloan refused to take his hand. He turned to admire Samantha. "And you, Miss Neely. I don't believe I've seen that gown before. It's quite becoming. I'm sure your good mother will approve."

  Sam seemed too stunned to comment, and Sloan was grateful for that much. He had never expected to run into anyone she knew down here. He'd known traveling with her was compromising, but without proof, no one could accuse either of them of anything. But if he took her up those stairs with him right now, Ramsey would have all the proof he needed.

  Sloan was tempted. It would be a cruel thing to do, but it would label Sam as his. Other men might try to trespass, but no one would fault him if he defended his property. Only, Samantha wasn't likely to cooperate with that kind of male notion of property rights. She and her mother would raise one hell of a stink. He'd rather not be put through that.

  He definitely didn't want to be put through the only alternative that came immediately to mind, but it was the one he offered.

  "Ramsey, if you don't quit looking at Miss Neely like she's a side of beef, I'll take it as an insult in her father's place and break your nose." He turned to Sam. "Why don't you go up to Jeanne's room and freshen up? I told my brother we'd meet them down at the dock." He slid the key to their chamber into her hand as he released her fingers from his arm.

  She blinked and stared at him as if he were crazed, but she grasped the opportunity he offered. With the key tightly wrapped in her fist, she made a brief curtsy to Ramsey, said a few words, and soon disappeared up the stairs.

  Momentarily distracted by the plethora of information dumped on him all at once, Ramsey quickly recovered. Cynical amusement twisted the corners of his dissolute mouth. "Find her father, did you?"

  "Not that it's any of your business, but no, not yet. We've been talking to several people who know him, however. Now, if you have nothing else to say to me, I need to arrange our transportation." Sloan turned as if to walk off. Maybe he'd confused the good doctor to the point he wouldn't inquire further. Maybe there were back stairs he could sneak up. He sure as hell didn't want to have to give up his last night of ecstasy.

  God wasn't on his side. Ramsey stuck with him.

  "The clerk said you're registered here for the night. Why do you need to get to the docks at this hour?"

  Sloan gritted his teeth and summoned a porter. "Because Miss Neely is staying with my brother and sister-in- law. Are you quite satisfied now, Ramsey?" He gave the porter instructions for hiring a carriage and fetching the horses from the livery.

  Ramsey shrugged. "Whatever you say. Didn't know you had a brother out here."

  "There's a lot of things you don't know, and I don't intend to tell you." Sloan nodded and strode away as if he were a man in a hurry rather than one who had contemplated spending the next twelve hours in bed with a beautiful woman. Ramsey was damned lucky he hadn't killed him on the spot.

  When Sloan got to the corner, he hurried around the side of the building, looking for another entrance. Ramsey was more than capable of sitting in that lobby, waiting for the next stage of the play. Sloan didn't have to wonder how the doctor had found him. He was a creature of habit and always stayed in this hotel. He did wonder why Ramsey had bothered to find him, though. He didn't think it was coincidental. Ramsey seldom ever left the mountain, and when he did, it was generally to visit the cribs of Ariposa, not 'Frisco.

  Finding a back set of stairs, Sloan breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe they wouldn't have to leave after all. Ramsey had seen him leave by the front door. He'd seen Sam go up the stairs in the opposite direction. The doctor couldn't make anything of the fact that Sam never came back down again, not unless he waited there all night. That didn't seem likely.

  Sloan took the stairs two at a time. If he was really lucky, Sam would have rid herself of that hideous c
ontraption and would be down to her underwear by now. He would have to buy her some more of that silky lace, this time with an even lower cut to the chemise. Sam would look damned good in an evening gown. She had young, full breasts that filled a gown just right. She had freckles where she left her shirt collar open in the summer, but the rest of her was a creamy white. Just the thought of those white, upthrust breasts beckoning him made him randy as hell.

  He knocked at the bedroom door and Sam cautiously peeked out. Seeing him, she hastily stood out of sight behind the door to open it.

  She had changed back into her gabardine traveling dress. Disappointment clogged Sloan's throat as she darted out of his way and went to the window. He wished he'd thrown out that gown. Maybe he could persuade her they were safe here.

  "I saw them bringing our horses around. I thought maybe you were ready to leave." Her voice sounded far away and a little sad.

  Sloan came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She was slender. She scarcely filled his hold, but she was tall enough for him to rest his chin on her hair. "Maybe we've fooled him. I could send someone to take the horses back to the livery."

  She didn't move away, and for that, he was grateful. She nodded at the street below. "Aren't those some of your miners coming from the saloon?"

  They were crossing the street and yelling at each other as they recognized his horse. At least Samantha's horse wasn't there for them to recognize. Sloan gave a sigh of resignation. "They'll be at the desk, asking for me. We'd better get out of here before they decide a shivaree is in order."

  When he released her and went to gather their saddlebags, she turned and followed him with her eyes—those damned big blue eyes that followed him even in his sleep.

  "Why are they here in the middle of the week?"

  "The hell if I know. I expect Ramsey just got nosy. He's been rubbing my face in it ever since I let the bunch of you move in. He just rounded up a few drinking buddies to make certain he staggered home in one piece."

  That sounded plausible. The tension between Sloan and Ramsey had been obvious from the first day they rode into town. And Ramsey had taken an oddly protective interest in the ladies of the household ever since Sloan had shown his antagonism. Sam didn't like to think that Ramsey was down here to protect her reputation, but she had this niggling feeling that in the back of the doctor's drunken mind, that was just what he was doing.

  She held up the lovely gown Sloan had bought for her and shook her head in regret. She couldn't possibly get it into her saddlebags. She looked up to find him watching her with an odd expression.

  "I'll have the maid pack it up and send it on to my brother's if you want to keep it. Otherwise, just leave it there." Sloan's tone was dismissive as he walked toward the door.

  Sam's eyes widened as she recognized the same defensive tactics Jack used when he was trying to be manly. Sloan Talbott was hiding his real feelings behind that care-nothing attitude! She clutched the gown to her as he reached for the knob. “Your brother lives here?”

  “Hereabouts,” he answered gruffly, not offering more.

  She might never see it again, but she couldn’t throw it away. "I want to keep it," she whispered.

  He turned, noted the way she lovingly held the gown, and nodded, but still nothing reached his eyes. "I'll have it sent on."

  He walked out without looking back. Sam felt a queasiness in her stomach, but she couldn't place its origins. He had spent a lot of money on this gown. Of course he'd be insulted if she'd wanted to leave it behind. That's all there was to it. She shouldn't look for shadows where none existed.

  But they existed, all right. A maid came to take care of her gown, and a porter arrived to carry their saddlebags. Sam followed them downstairs and through the lobby, pretending she didn't see Ramsey hiding behind a newspaper and a drink. She didn't know where the miners had gone. Sloan must have gotten rid of them.

  Sloan waited outside beside a doddering carriage he'd hired from somewhere. Sam wished she'd kept her elegant gown on as he handed her up as if she were a grand lady on the way to the ball. The Neelys had never owned a carriage. The country roads back home were too rough for visiting in carriages when a wagon would do. She settled back in the seat, pretending this wasn't all new to her.

  Sloan checked the security of the horses tied on behind, watched their gear loaded, and climbed up beside her. As he signaled the driver to depart, Sam noticed Doc Ramsey wandering to the door to see them off. It would have been better if she could be seen traveling with the mysterious Jeanne, but they couldn't do anything about it now. Her mother knew she was down here with Sloan. She didn't have anything to conceal—except a night of raw passion.

  "Where are we going now?" she whispered as the carriage maneuvered the narrow, hilly streets to the bay.

  "To my brother's," Sloan answered in a tone of resignation. "There's not that many decent hotels in the city, and I wouldn't put it past Ramsey to check every one of them to make sure we're not there."

  Trapped by too many conflicting emotions, Sam set her lips and pursued the more obvious question. "I thought you made up that stuff about going to your brother."

  "Unfortunately, no. My brother, Matthew, and his wife, Jeanne, have a ranch over in the valley. We'll stay there tonight to confirm our story."

  "Unfortunately?" Sam raised her eyebrows questioningly.

  Sloan scowled. "They tend to be rather proper. We'll sleep apart tonight."

  She'd rather surmised that. Sitting back against the seat, Sam gazed out over city streets and tried to make some order out of the chaos of her emotions. She should be glad that their bargain had come to an abrupt end. Instead, she felt as if someone had called a halt to an idyll. She hadn't had time to explore all the ways Sloan's hard masculine body fit into hers. She would have to stop thinking about that.

  When they reached the dock, Sloan led the saddled horses onto the steamboat. The smokestack was already belching fumes, and Sam hurried to join him. She had hoped they could stay in the city longer, ask further questions, maybe discover some new lead, but she could tell from the grim determination in Sloan's eyes that it wasn't going to happen.

  He kept a safe distance from her as the boat slipped from land. He offered to take her inside, out of the wind, but Sam had never been on a steamboat before. She'd seen them. She knew this was a rather disreputable packet. But it was sailing into the middle of the bay, and she didn't want to miss a minute of it.

  Sloan leaned against the cabin wall, hands in pockets, glaring out over the water. She supposed he was angry about getting cheated of his end of the bargain. She could tell him she would willingly go back to the hotel in Ariposa if he wanted, but she thought he ought to suffer a little longer. It would do him good.

  He caught her by surprise when he came to prop his hands on the railing beside her. "Ramsey isn't going to keep his mouth shut," he said flatly. "I registered at that hotel as Mr. and Mrs. Every damned man in town is going to believe the worst."

  Sam shrugged. "And they'll be right." She didn't feel as insouciant as she appeared, but she really didn't see where she had any other choice. She'd made her decision. Now she had to live with it.

  "I don't think you understand." Sloan leaned his hip against the railing and crossed his arms as he turned to look at her. "They're going to think you're available for the taking unless I make them see otherwise. The only way I can do that is if you move in with me."

  That got her attention. Forgetting the magnificent view, Sam turned to stare up at him. Sloan's angular face was as grim and expressionless as always. A person would think he was made out of granite if they didn't know better. She knew better. She'd seen desire in those icy eyes. She'd seen those hard lips go soft with her kisses. He was a man like any other, just an exceedingly aggravating one.

  "I wasn't born yesterday, Sloan Talbott. I'm nearly twenty-five years old and more than capable of taking care of myself. I don't intend to become any man's mistress for such a feeble reaso
n."

  He muttered a curse, but didn't cease his relentless stare. "The reason isn't feeble. The only thing that has prevented rape these last months is the very obvious respectability of your family. Once that respect is gone, you're free game for every horny man in town."

  Sam gave him her raised-eyebrow look. "And living with you would return my respectability?"

  "My guns would offer you protection. The men keep away from anything that is mine."

  She almost felt affection for his obvious obtuseness. Men were so very thick-headed. She almost believed that he meant well. It couldn't be easy for Sloan Talbott to force himself to allow a woman into his precious all-male quarters. But he was guaranteeing himself a free woman in his bed at the same time, so she didn't feel real sorry for him.

  "I'm certain your offer is most kind, but I have guns of my own. I'm more concerned about the way my family thinks about me than how a bunch of randy-minded men think. I'll decline your offer."

  He gritted his teeth and turned to grip the railing again. "I knew you would say that. We can pretend we got married when we came down here then. Tell your family I did the honorable thing by you. I'm not the marrying kind, so you don't need to think I'll go looking for any other woman. We're damned good in bed together. We can work it out."

  Sam was so astonished that she didn't have an immediate reply. When she was younger, she had imagined many ways of men proposing to her, but she had never dreamed of a proposal like this. It was a good thing she'd given up those dreams years ago or she'd be devastated now. "I don't know how I can refuse such a generous offer," she finally answered dryly, "but I will. I'll not be your . . ." She forced herself to say a word that had never crossed her lips before, "Whore."

  Sloan jerked as if she had shot him, then turned a baleful glare on her. "You do have a way with words, don't you?" He looked out over the bay again. The sun was setting, and the wind was cold, but they were closing in on land. "You weren't planning on marrying anymore than I am, were you? You want your damned valley and gardens and horses. I can get you that. What we've got in bed doesn't come around too often. We won't be able to discard it as easily as you're assuming. If we weren't surrounded by people, I'd have you on the floor right now with your skirts up."