The Lawman's Bride (Harlequin Historical Series)
Page 10
She shouldn’t let the way his touch warmed her twist her thinking or allow the beauty of having him favor her with kindness cloud her judgment.
She was weaker than she’d ever imagined. All that resolve about being strong was a joke. But she wanted to have a piece of goodness more than she could say. More than anything she wanted to savor something clean and decent and know what it was like.
Kiss me, she cried silently. Kiss me and let me feel the beauty just for this one night.
Sophie grasped his upper arms as though she might spin away if she didn’t hold on. Beneath his sleeves, his skin was warm and solid, the muscles toned. As though her touch was a signal, he leaned to capture her lips in a kiss that made her heart skitter in her chest. The sounds of the night and the heat faded away, and all she knew was the rightness of having this man desire her.
In the back of her mind she knew she was sneaking something that didn’t truly belong to her, something that belonged to the woman he believed her to be, but she was greedy and selfish, and she didn’t want to lose a moment of the heady experience.
Clay released her hand to wrap his arms around her and draw her close. She relished the feel of his hard body, the strength of his embrace. She wrapped an arm around his neck and met his kiss with all the longing she’d kept dammed up inside.
When his tongue touched her lower lip, she understood the invitation and welcomed the deepening kiss and the heat of his mouth.
Sophie was no stranger to a man’s desire. She wasn’t ignorant of what happened between men and women. But Clay had introduced her to feelings. He was introducing her to respect as well, and she knew that if she pulled away right at this moment he would honor her wishes. He wouldn’t use coercion or force to get what he wanted.
Some insidious little voice inside her prompted her to test him. If a mean streak surfaced it would be easy to write him off and walk away. She eased her mouth from his…looked into his face in the moonlight.
He stroked her spine with a thumb, but his hold on her was loose, his posture and expression undemanding. His breath fluttered against her chin. Testing him, she’d robbed herself of something she hadn’t known she needed with all her being.
“I want to kiss you,” she said.
“That’s what we’ve been doin’.”
“No.” She cupped his jaw. “I want to kiss you.”
“You won’t have to tie me up, darlin’.”
The tender endearment spurred her nearer. She pressed her hand to his chest, urging him to sit once again. His eyes didn’t leave hers.
She sat beside him, but that wasn’t close enough, so she eased herself onto his lap. As though he couldn’t resist touching her, he threaded his fingers into the hair at her neck.
She ran a finger over his jaw, traced the shape of his wonderful mouth, used her thumb to part his lips. He touched his tongue to the pad of her thumb and she felt the damp heat all the way to the core of her will.
Sophie framed his jaw with one hand and kissed him square on the lips. He closed his eyes and seemed to hold his breath.
She ended the kiss and nuzzled her nose along his cheek to his ear. His hand tightened in her hair, but he held the rest of his body in check.
“What game are you playin’, Sophie?” he asked.
“No game,” she replied near his ear. “Just a little test.”
“Am I passin’?”
She kissed him again, parting her lips over his and savoring the indulgent pleasure before pausing to answer, “With flying colors, Marshal.”
She shouldn’t be enjoying kissing him so much. She shouldn’t be using him. He had no idea how powerfully seductive his gentle compliance was to a woman who’d never before had a choice.
He had no idea she wasn’t innocent. For all he knew she was tasting seduction for the first time. He trusted her to be who she said she was.
What would Sophie Hollis do?
With a last delicious kiss, she pushed herself up from his lap and smoothed her skirts. “I’m embarrassed I did that.”
“Why?”
She looked away.
His voice was low and uneven when he asked, “You think it’s shameful to kiss a man?”
“No. No, I’m…embarrassed at the feelings.”
“Nothin’ wrong with honest feelings, Sophie.”
She couldn’t even look at him after those words. “I’d better get back before I get locked out.”
He stood and quickly fell into step beside her. “We’re still on for Sunday?”
She walked ahead. “We’re still on.”
Even as confused as she was, she wouldn’t miss the next time for anything.
Midweek Mr. Webb closed the dining hall and instructed all employees to change into fresh uniforms and report back within fifteen minutes.
Sophie joined the curious Harvey Girls who climbed the stairs to their rooms and returned in crisp clothing. Murmurs of speculation trickled through the gathering.
A whistle announced the arrival of a train that hadn’t been on their lunch schedule, which indicated something unusual, like the train that sometimes brought Fred Harvey for an unannounced visit. This time neither Mrs. Winters or Mr. Webb were barking orders or sending waitresses scurrying, however. And the restaurant had never been closed before. Even the kitchen help had been summoned.
Minutes later a commotion drew them outside. Sophie and Emma standing together on the platform spotted half a dozen men carrying cases and arranging them between the tracks and the building.
Another crew was roping off the perimeter of the platform as well as the front of the hotel and placing men in positions to keep the onlookers out.
A man who seemed to be in charge of things stepped forward and called out. “We have forty minutes before the next train arrives,” he called. “Form lines in front of the building, in order of duties, with kitchen help in the back, dining hall workers in the front and the managers on each side. I would like the chef front left, please.”
Recognition dawned on Sophie too late. She could have escaped when they’d been ordered to change, but now it would be obvious if she left. This was the renowned photographer Louis had told her about. She took a place among the waitresses, moving back several rows by saying, “I’m tall, you stand here.”
There were at least sixty people gathered. Who would recognize her in clothing like everyone else, within a sea of faces? Who would even see the picture? When the photographer was ready, she could edge her face behind the person ahead of her. This wasn’t a problem she couldn’t handle gracefully and without drawing attention.
The sun was hot and the workers grumbled at having to stand in the heat. Sophie endured the perspiration trickling down her back under her starched dress, and scanned the crowd that had gathered. She spotted Louis Tripp making his way to the front of the crowd and talking with one of the posted guards. She knew how badly he wanted to come forward and meet A. J. Russell.
The guard hurried to say something to the man setting up the camera, and he motioned for Louis to come closer.
“I believe I have time to use the necessity,” Sophie said and inched her way to the end of the line and toward the side of the building.
“Miss Hollis!”
She stopped in her tracks and faced Mrs. Winters. “Ma’am.”
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“To use the outhouse, ma’am.”
“Not until you’ve been excused you won’t. You had time to take care of that when you were changing.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
This time she edged her way back another row. Mr. Russell called instructions to his helpers and to the subjects who were getting restless.
He ducked his head and shoulders beneath a black cloth and counted backward from five.
As he reached one, Sophie leaned inconspicuously to the right, just enough for her face to be obscured behind Constance Jenkins’s hair.
“Don’t move! One more,” he called.
“Monte’s coming for me in a few minutes,” Amanda said, aquiver with excitement. “You’ll meet him tonight.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
“My dancing is much improved, thanks to you. He’ll be impressed.”
Sophie gave her a humble nod. She’d been wondering all day if the marshal would show up at the Social Hall like he usually did during the course of a Saturday evening.
Amanda checked her blond curls in the mirror one last time and picked up her white gloves before hurrying out of their room.
Sophie enjoyed the calm and quiet for a few minutes, feeling no need to rush. There were always carriages waiting out front of the Arcade on Saturday evening, and it was easy to catch a ride with a group or a couple.
Amanda had helped her button the lemon-colored cotton lawn dress she’d recently finished, and now she donned her soft kid leather slippers. She arranged her hair with a matching ribbon wound through the curls that hung down her back. Choosing her own clothing and accessories lent a sense of power she’d craved. Anyone else would take it for granted, but she didn’t. She gazed at her white ruffle and lace bodice and satin cuffs in the mirror with pleasure.
It felt good to be Sophie Hollis. It felt good to interact with others and develop friendships. Most of the guilt was stashed away where it couldn’t gnaw at her. She couldn’t let herself think that every relationship she had was based on a lie or she’d loose this euphoric feeling. She was going to see Clay tonight, and tomorrow they were going to go riding.
Satisfied with her appearance, she tugged on her satin-trimmed gloves and floated down the stairs. Louis had brought a buggy for Rosie. He cast Sophie a hesitant smile, and she nodded her approval. He grinned and offered her and Olivia a ride.
Charles Barlow greeted Sophie and Olivia as soon as they entered the already noisy building.
“Miss Hollis,” the rancher said, smiling as though delighted to see her. “Will you join me for this dance?”
Not intending coyness, Sophie glanced at Olivia, then back. “Thank you, Mr. Barlow.” She offered him her gloved hand.
“Charlie,” he corrected.
“Charlie.”
“Nice to see you have a Saturday night off,” he said as they waltzed.
“Y-yes.” Only then did Sophie remember telling him she worked most Saturday nights.
“Next time you’re not on the schedule, why don’t you send word so we can attend the opera?”
“I do enjoy the opera.”
A cowboy in a new shirt and dungarees and with his hair and mustache pomaded asked her to dance next. After an hour she was hoping for a chance to sit out a few dances.
She hadn’t seen Clay yet. She’d been watching, subtly, of course. She excused herself from the dance floor and was headed toward the benches when he strolled up beside her in the crowd.
“Ready for some punch?” His voice was like maple frosting on a sponge cake. Deliciously dark and sweet.
“I’m ready.”
“Seems you have a camp of followers.”
“The girls, you mean?”
He laughed, and she liked the low-pitched sound. “The men.”
She glanced around. “Oh? Just a couple.”
“All ready for tomorrow?”
“I have a riding skirt and proper gloves.”
He glanced at the gloves she’d trimmed with satin bias and seed pearls. “I’ll rent a horse for you. The liveryman will choose a well-mannered one.”
“What color?”
“Color.” His gaze rose to her eyes. “The horse?”
She nodded. “I wondered what color you’d get for me.”
Amusement inched up the corners of his mouth. “What color would you like?”
“Does the liveryman own a paint?”
“I’ll check.”
“Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
She looked up into his intense blue eyes. Catering to her whim gave him pleasure? “Truly?”
“Yes.”
“Sophie! There you are! I’ve been searching all over for you.” Out of breath, Amanda touched Sophie’s arm. “Here’s the person I wanted you to meet.”
Sophie turned, only to find herself looking directly into Tek Garrett’s cleanly shaven face, his expression one of barely constrained glee.
Chapter Ten
Her head swam.
“Sophie, this is Monte Morgan. Monte, this is my friend, Sophie.”
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said, gallantly bending at the waist in greeting.
She girded her composure. “And I of you.”
“Monte, this is Marshal Connor. Marshal, Mr. Morgan.”
The two men sized each other up. Neither extended a hand.
Finally Clay reached out. “Morgan.”
Garrett grasped his hand. “Marshal.”
Sophie’s head spun with the shock of seeing Garrett in a place she’d felt safe. Seeing him shake hands with the marshal. He was Amanda’s newfound beau!
Seething anger rose up and heated her face. Her heart was racing. She resisted clenching her fists. She was a professional at creating an image, and the image she was portraying was one of cool calmness and mild interest. It wouldn’t do to panic. Fear was an inhibitor, not a facilitator.
She looked at Amanda, flushed with the dew of infatuation, gazing up at Tek Garrett as though her knight in shining armor had galloped in on a white steed. Sophie wanted to yank Amanda away from him and take her far from this place and far from the man who had only evil in his heart and manipulation on his mind.
He knew exactly what to say and do to make Amanda think she wanted him, needed him. He could make her believe she couldn’t live without him. Amanda wanted to be loved so badly she was an easy acquisition. She was too sweet and too vulnerable, a pliable and needy soul Garrett could use to his own advantage for as long as it suited him.
A feeling of guilt nagged at her conscience. Was she doing the same thing to Clay?
“Amanda is so light on her feet,” Garrett said to Sophie. His hand at the small of Amanda’s back made Sophie’s skin crawl. She wanted to crush his heart. “I could dance with her all night.”
Amanda beamed.
“Join me for another dance,” he urged.
They swept back onto the dance floor.
The gall of the man! He knew Sophie wouldn’t run away and leave Amanda in his clutches. He also knew Sophie wouldn’t tell Amanda who he was. He would use any means possible, including Amanda, his new trump card, to coerce Sophie into turning over the money he still believed was in her possession. He obviously wouldn’t believe she no longer had it.
“I’ll bring punch if you want to sit a spell,” Clay said from beside her.
Feeling unsteady, she took a seat along the benches.
Moments later he returned with two cups and sat beside her.
Thanking him, she accepted hers and sipped the cool, sweet liquid.
The fiddle player presented a solo in the middle of the song, and the sound of people’s feet on the wood floor was loud.
Sophie strained to spot Amanda and Garrett. She found them and kept her attention riveted. His heart was as black as she remembered. She wanted to cut it out.
“Somethin’ botherin’ you, Sophie?”
Realizing her intent stare might be too revealing, she glanced at Clay. A frown creased his forehead as he turned to watch the crowd. Sophie paid attention and recognized he was watching the same couple. “No. Anything bothering you?”
“Just a feelin’ I get about that fella. I’ve been watchin’ him since he got to town.”
A dismayed shiver crept down her spine. Since he got to town?
Her stomach dipped with nervous dread. Clay’s perceptions were accurate. What if he’d gotten close
to her because he perceived something artificial in her?
She was getting crazy now, she assured herself. There wasn’t a deceptive bone in the man’s body. If he suspected her he’d be forthright about it. He hadn’t bothered pretending to be cordial to Garrett, after all. She focused her thinking on the new information. “How long has that been?”
“A few weeks.”
Weeks! Garrett had been biding his time before revealing himself. Smart. A good con man always took stock of his mark. “What kind of feeling do you have?”
Clay pursed his lips a moment before answering. “Just a gut reaction to the man. Can’t explain it. I’m usually not wrong.”
Sophie’s scalp tingled with anxiety. “A feeling like what?”
“Like I should keep an eye on ’im. Like I should check all the papers for his picture…and if I had any papers left I would.”
The good news and the bad news. “They all burned?”
“Yup. Sent telegrams to other counties and nearby states askin’if they’d had dealin’s with anyone meetin’ his description.”
A little quake of alarm rolled up Sophie’s spine.
“Nothing has turned up,” he added.
Relieved, she turned to study the crowd again. “He’s too old for Amanda.”
Clay raised a brow.
“Well. He is.”
“Plenty o’ Harvey Girls have married widowed ranchers. Man’s not over the hill till he has a long white beard.”
“You’re defending him.”
“I’m stickin’ up for mankind.”
She should have been able to laugh, but nothing about Garrett was funny. He was dangerous. She knew it, and she’d done her best to avoid him. But Amanda didn’t have an inkling that she was playing with fire. If something didn’t happen to save her, she’d be caught up in Garrett’s blaze of deception. She was being set up because of Sophie. Because Sophie’d led him here. Because Sophie had handed him the perfect tool to use against her.
“I’m not feeling well,” she told Clay. “I need to step outside for a moment.”
“I’ll come with you.” He set their cups aside before leading her to the side door.