Silken Dreams

by Bingham, Lisa

  “Natalie, I told you to stop this nonsense,” he growled in warning.

  “But someone else obviously can,” she taunted, barely heeding his words, her chin tilting at a defiant angle. “Someone who is more of a man than you could ever be, Silas Gruber.”

  Silas rose from his seat with such force that his chair crashed against the back wall. Despite the startled glances of those within the bank, he strode toward his wife and grasped her by the elbows, shaking her. The hat she’d been so proud of threatened to topple from her head.

  “Who is he, Natalie? Who have you been seeing?”

  Her face twisted in an ugly expression of disgust and triumph. “As if I’d tell you! You’re nothing but an old lecherous coward, Silas. You couldn’t even stand up to the board of inquiry in Chicago. Instead, you let them send you whimpering and whining to this po-dunk town in the middle of nowhere.”

  “I told you! There was nothing else I could have done.”

  “Save your excuses for the board, Silas. I don’t want to hear them. Since you’ve been unable to… satisfy my needs for quite some time, I’ve gone elsewhere.”

  Silas felt his whole body tighten in rage and jealousy. “Damn you, who is he!” he ground out between clenched teeth, his hands tightening around her arms until he could feel the bones beneath his fingers like fragile twigs. He shook her once more for emphasis. “Who is he! No one has the kind of money you’ve been flaunting around. No one here in Madison. No one honest.”

  She wedged her hands against his chest and wrenched free. Flinging open the door to Silas’s office, she shouted, “I’ve found myself a man who can be a gentleman, Silas. Something you would know nothing about.”

  With that remark, she reached behind her to whip the fabric of her train aside and strode out the door in a rustle of taffeta and lace.

  Slowly becoming aware of his surroundings, Silas tugged at the hem of his vest, his skin flushing with a ruddy heat when he met the aghast looks of his employees and one of the local matrons.

  Taking a deep breath for control, Silas closed the door with calm deliberation, then turned away from prying eyes. His hands tightened into rigid fists as his wife’s parting words seemed to echo about him.

  I’ve found myself a man who can be a gentleman, Silas. Something you would know nothing about.

  Once again Silas felt a burning certainty settling inside of him. For some time, he’d suspected Natalie had been seeing another man. The Gentleman Bandit had been his prime suspect. Now he’d heard a confession from her own lips—or at least the closest thing to a confession he was likely to get.

  But Natalie would soon see just what kind of a man she’d married. He’d see Ethan McGuire hanged for his crimes. Once and for all.

  Striding to the glass partition, Silas threw open the door and bellowed for his assistant to come forward, then returned to his desk.

  Supporting a clipboard and a harried expression, Harold Beechum scrambled inside and gently closed the door behind him. When he turned, his lanky frame tensed, as if he expected a physical blow after all that had occurred in his employer’s office. “You called, Mr. Gruber?”

  “Hell yes, I called! Don’t be an ass.”

  “Y-yes, sir. I mean, no, sir.”

  “I want you to go to the telegraph office and send a telegram to the effect that since the Madison City Thrift and Loan has received the replacement shipment of gold, it should tighten its security accordingly.”

  Beechum hesitated, his stubby pencil poised over his clipboard. “Sir?” he asked in confusion.

  “Just write it down.”

  “But we didn’t receive a shipment of gold.”

  “Just write it down.”

  Beechum cringed and scrambled to do as he was told.

  “May I ask why, sir?”

  “No, you may not ask!” Silas took a deep breath to calm himself and jerked the hem of his vest back into place.

  “Who—” Beechum cleared his throat and began again. “Where shall I send the telegram?”

  “To myself, at my home address.”

  “Sir?”

  “Just do it, Beechum.”

  Harold Beechum’s normally sallow features grew even more pale beneath his green canvas visor. “But I don’t understand.”

  “Just do it!”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Getting up and crossing toward the safe in the back of his office, Silas reached out to run his hand over its painted surface, already formulating his plans. He allowed a small smile of self-satisfaction to crease his lips. By leaking news of a mythical shipment of gold to his wife, Natalie would take the news straight to the Gentleman Bandit. When Ethan McGuire arrived that night at the Madison Thrift and Loan, Silas would be waiting inside the office to “apprehend” the thief at gunpoint. Then he would turn the man over to Judge Krupp—and the Star Council of Justice. That way, Silas would not only see his wife’s lover swing at the end of a rope, but he would probably earn himself a promotion as well.

  “Sir, was there anything else?” Harold whispered, obviously wondering if his employer had lost his senses.

  “Ever read Hamlet, Beechum?” Silas turned to find his assistant regarding him in alarm. “Well?”

  “No, sir.”

  “To paraphrase the old bard: ‘The gold’s the thing to catch the conscience of a thief.’ ” He paused, and his brow furrowed. “That doesn’t rhyme, does it?”

  His assistant opened his mouth, floundered for a moment, then replied, “No, sir.”

  Silas merely shrugged and turned back to trace his finger over the swirling floral design painted on the top lip of the safe. “No matter. When the Gentleman Bandit is caught trying to rob my bank, the whole state will hear sweet, sweet music.”

  He glanced over his shoulder, and Beechum offered him a placating grimace that was meant to be a smile. “Yes, sir.”

  “Well, don’t just stand there, man! Go send that telegram.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And see if you can round up Judge Krupp. I need to talk to him.” This time Gruber wanted no mistakes. He would notify Krupp himself of his plans. Then the moment Ethan McGuire stepped into the bank, he would be surrounded by Krupp’s men.

  Silas glanced up to see his assistant still staring at him with wide eyes. “Go get him, man!”

  “Yes, sir!”

  Beechum fled from the room with evident relief, and Silas turned back to his safe, running his palms over the cool upper edge. He’d show Natalie just what kind of a man he was. Once she read his telegram—and he had no doubts she would—he’d capture her lover and see him hanged. Then, when she tried to become all pouty and perverse, Silas would shower her in the gold he’d taken from Jeb Clark’s train. Cool, heavy, lovely gold.

  A few moments later, Judge Krupp entered the bank. While he conversed with Gruber, Stone waited in the shade by the far wall. He smiled and tipped his hat to a pair of pretty women, then glanced up and met the gaze of a fellow member of the Star, Ned Abernathy. The man stood a few yards away, his hand propped against the newel support of the barber shop. Gerald acknowledged the man with a barely perceptible nod of his head, then looked away.

  Within moments, Krupp emerged.

  “Well?” Stone asked.

  “Gruber has set a trap for Ethan McGuire and he wants the Star to dance attendance.” His eyes narrowed.

  “Do you want me to arrange for some men to guard the bank?”

  Krupp’s lips thinned. “No. I’ll take care of it.” He turned to pierce Gerald Stone with a meaningful gaze. “But I think it’s time to test the faithfulness of our newest governor. Arrange for Jacob and a few of his men to meet me at the farmhouse just before dawn.”

  “Yes, sir.” He eyed Krupp’s rigid jaw and asked, “You’re sure you don’t want some men at the bank tonight?”

  Krupp took a deep breath, and his voice became hard. “No. I think it’s time we taught Silas Gruber that he shouldn’t take the Star for granted” He settled his
hat on his head. “Once he’s squirmed a bit, I’ll come to his aid.”

  Gerald grinned. “Yes, sir.”

  Krupp strode away, heading toward the hotel down the street. After a moment, Stone walked in the opposite direction.

  From the alley beside the bank, Ned Abernathy straightened. After the Star had broken into his mother’s room, stolen Ethan’s watch, and left their calling card on Lillian’s bureau, Ned had wormed his way into the secret vigilante group. He’d hoped they could help him learn just how much was known about the Gentleman and when the law intended to strike.

  He smiled slightly to himself and ambled back toward the barber shop. It seemed he’d just hit pay dirt.

  When Ethan hesitated in front of her, Lettie paused. He stood on the back path, gazing at the boardinghouse door and shaking his head. “I can’t go in just yet.” He shrugged his shoulders as if already feeling the confines of the garret. His fingers tugged the gloves from his hands and stuffed them into the valise they’d packed with his clothes. “I think I’ll take a walk or something.”

  “Letitia, my dear girl!”

  Lettie froze, her fingers digging into Ethan’s arm when she recognized Mr. Goldsmith’s voice coming from the direction of the barn.

  She turned very slowly, motioning for Ethan to move on without her.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Goldsmith.”

  Though she tried to block as much of Ethan’s bustled and beribboned frame as she could, Randolph Goldsmith hurried to greet them, darting his head from side to side in an effort to catch a glimpse of the elusive Mrs. McGillicuddy.

  “And who might this charming creature be?” he boomed.

  Ethan froze.

  Lettie reached out to dig her fingers into his shoulder in a tacit command for his retreat.

  “You’ve met Mrs. McGillicuddy, of course. Everyone knows Mrs. McGillicuddy.”

  Mr. Goldsmith smiled, refusing to admit he had not received the honor. “Yes, of course, of course. I sat by her last night in the parlor, did I not?”

  “Mmm. I believe so. Now, we really must be going.”

  “Ah, Lettie!” Mr. Goldsmith reached out to snag her arm, forcing her to pause. “Let me give my regards to the lady first.”

  “Mr. Goldsmith, I really don’t—”

  He ignored her, brushing past her to stand on the step beside Ethan.

  Ethan carefully averted his head so that Goldsmith could not see around the brim of his bonnet, let alone through the veiling.

  “She’s very shy,” Lettie murmured when Mr. Goldsmith glanced back at her for guidance.

  Randolph beamed, as if he alone were aware of that sterling quality, and he took personal pleasure in the fact. Clearing his throat, he reached for Ethan’s hand.

  “My dearest lady.” He paused, waiting for some sort of a response. When Mrs. McGillicuddy didn’t answer, he once again turned to Lettie.

  “She’s also hard of hearing,” she murmured, trying hard not to laugh.

  “My dearest lady!” Mr. Goldsmith boomed. “May I offer you my most humble services and assure you that if there is anything—anything—you need of me, please do not hesitate to ask!”

  When Ethan didn’t answer, Lettie dug her nails into his shoulder. A muffled youch! burst from his throat, then a quick, “You are too kind.” Lettie rolled her eyes, certain Ethan’s high falsetto had given him away. But Randolph Goldsmith merely smiled in delight, reaching up to tug at his hairpiece when it threatened to slip.

  Holding one of his hands to his head, Mr. Goldsmith made a deep courtly bow that threatened to split his pants in two and reached for Ethan’s hand. When he lifted it to his lips, there was a brief tug-of-war before Mr. Goldsmith won and planted a moist kiss on the back of Ethan’s hand.

  “Until we meet again, fair maiden!” he shouted, then climbed the steps and backed into the house, smiling and waving as he went.

  As soon as he had disappeared behind the screen, Lettie grasped Ethan’s wrist and pulled him down the stairs and across the back yard. Racing as fast as she could, she led him to the creek, then dodged behind a screen of trees. Unable to hold her mirth any longer, she collapsed against a tree, giggling uncontrollably, while Ethan glared at her with his hands on his hips.

  “You’d best beware, Ethan. He’s the Lothario of the Grey Boardinghouse,” she gasped.

  Ethan whipped his veil over his head and scowled at her. “Dammit, it isn’t funny. That man kissed me!”

  Lettie merely burst into another fit of giggles.

  Deciding she was hopeless, Ethan strode toward the creek, then squatted with legs spread wide to furiously scrub at the back of his hand.

  Lettie wrapped her arms around her waist and slowly slid down the trunk of the tree, still laughing.

  Chapter 16

  Natalie Gruber waited in the shadows of the Lilac Suite at the Starlight Hotel for nearly an hour before the door opened and her lover appeared. Though they had been using the room for nearly a week, she felt certain that no one had seen either of them come. And when the time came, no one would see them leave.

  “Where have you been?” she demanded, still feeling a remnant of pique from her encounter with Silas.

  The man’s tall form seemed to grow a little more intimidating as he paused and shut the door behind him. The late-afternoon shadows of the room stroked his firm jaw and the blunt features of his face.

  “I’ve been taking care of a little business.”

  When he refused to elaborate any further, Natalie’s hands balled into fists and she whirled to look out the window. “And would that business have anything to do with my husband’s bank?” She shot a glance over her shoulder, but the man’s features remained neutral, giving nothing away.

  Realizing that her anger would get her nowhere, Natalie took a deep breath, forced herself to relax, and offered him a coquettish smile. “Forgive me for being so beastly, darling.” She turned and sauntered toward him, ensuring that the sway of her hips was just exaggerated enough to draw attention to the artful swags of her gown, but not so blatant that the man before her knew she was about to begin wending her wiles. “It’s just that I’ve had a frightful day. And to top it all off, I’ve had another row with Silas.”

  “Oh?”

  She slipped her hands around his neck and toyed with his string tie. “I swear, that man will be the death of me!” Despite her attempt at calm, some of her frustration and anger seeped through. “If Silas had been a little smarter, I would still be a woman of society in Chicago. As wife to the director of the Chicago Mortgage and Thrift, I would have power and prestige.” Her voice became low and intense. “And money.”

  The man’s hands moved to grasp her hips and draw her tightly against him. “You have money now.”

  “Thanks to you.” She chuckled at that thought and shot him a look filled with a self-congratulatory smile. She wriggled slightly beneath his hands. “Perhaps I should thank Silas for being such a fool in that respect. If he hadn’t been stupid enough to tell me all about the Gentleman Bandit and his robberies, we wouldn’t be where we are today.” She sidled closer still. “I wouldn’t have had such intimate knowledge of the Star. Told you everything I knew.” Her voice became low and husky. “Made you mine.” Her fingers slipped through his hair, and she lifted herself on tiptoe to press a kiss against the corner of his mouth, his chin, his neck.

  Her lover’s response was instantaneous. His arms wound more fiercely about her waist until she was pressed so tightly against him that she couldn’t fail to read the measure of his passion.

  “My lusty stallion,” she growled low in her throat. Her arms slid across his chest, then inched up the placket of his shirt. “Why did you wait so long to get word to me if you needed me so?”

  Without warning, she grasped the edges of his shirt and ripped it open. Buttons flew, spattering to the ground. Then a silence settled about them, broken only by their strident breathing. The stark flare of passion Natalie saw in his eyes was all she had
been waiting to see. She finally had this man right where she wanted him. He wanted her. He needed her.

  He would do anything for her.

  When he bent to kiss her, she stopped him with a firm hand on his chest. “I think it’s time we did something about my husband.”

  The man’s arms tightened around her, and his eyes flashed in annoyance. “Later.”

  Studying him a moment from beneath heavy lashes, Natalie placed a kiss in the hollow of his throat. Then, smiling against his skin, she traced a moist line down the center of his breast with her tongue. He shuddered beneath her, his hands clenching into the fabric of her gown. And when Natalie glanced up at him, she knew she would have her way.

  Her hands lifted to the buttons of her bodice, and he allowed her just enough space to complete the task, even as his hands roamed her back and his eyes traced the sliver of skin she exposed.

  “What do you want?”

  She waited until she had unbuttoned the bodice and it hung poised on her shoulders so that he could see she had foregone the use of a camisole and stood bare before him, save for her corset. Then, as her bodice slithered to the floor, she murmured, “I want him dead.”

  The man before her didn’t even pause. Instead, his hands wrapped tightly around her and he bent to place a kiss on the mounding flesh of her bosom.

  “I’m sure something can be arranged.” His tongue trailed across the exposed skin of her breast and teased the edge of a nipple half hidden by the tatted lace of her corset. “Soon.”

  “Mind if I get a bite to eat?”

  Jacob glanced up from the papers spread over the top of his desk and found Rusty Janson standing at the bottom of the steps that led up to the jail cells on the second story.

  “No, go ahead.”

  “Want anything?”

  Jacob absently shook his head. “Nah, I’ve got some of the pie my mother sent over the first of the week. When I get a minute I’ll take a break, read the Gazette, maybe have a drink. Right now, I’m trying to sift through the reports the railroad sent over after Jeb’s…” His voice grew husky, and he cleared his throat. “After the last robbery.”