“She wanted a little house in the woods. She’d been in Flagstaff before and loved it. I bought this place unseen, though she’d gone on ahead and had been the one to find it.” Baker looked at Margrett for a moment, and his lip tipped up mischievously. “Though she didn’t buy it without a lease and proper contract.”
Margrett blushed.
“What happened?” She prompted when he fell silent.
“There was a game, a poker game. The kind you have to prove you know what you’re doing. By invitation only. It was high stakes and very cut-throat. I figured that game alone would keep us in luxury for a long time. I convinced Alice I had to play. After this one last game, I would quit. We could go out to Arizona Territory together and live in that little house under the pines.”
His eyes were sad, holding all the pain of the universe. His voice hoarse as he told the rest. “I won. But the man I beat was angry, accused me of cheating and drew. I shoved the gun away and hit him, but it went off…”
After a long moment, Margrett whispered, “Alice?”
He nodded. “The bullet went through her heart. He went to jail and was later hung, but Alice…” Baker dropped his fork on his half-finished ham. “Anyway, I swore it off then. Too late to do her any good, but still.” He took a breath and shook his head. “I came here to the house, her house, and just hid behind the trees for a while. That’s why the people here, they don’t know me. I wasn’t ever here, really.”
Margrett reached across the table, taking his hand in her own, trying to warm the chilled fingers. “I’m sorry, Mr. Baker.” He squeezed her hand in return.
“Nathan,” he said quietly. “Call me Nathan. I want to hear a woman say that name again.”
“Nathan,” Margrett said with a smile. “I’m Margrett.”
Nathan returned Margrett’s smile and held her gaze until Margrett began to wonder if she should look away, but she couldn’t manage it. He covered her hand with his, then, seeming to come to some conclusion, stood and moved to stand beside her. Still holding Margrett’s hand, he drew her slowly to her feet, looking at their joined hands with an expression akin to wonderment before speaking, almost to himself,
“I buried a part of myself with her, a part I swore was dead forever. But it wasn’t dead, was it?” Nathan looked up, as though seeing Margrett for the first time, and brought a hand up to smooth over her hair, fingertips grazing her jaw. Margrett held her breath, heart racing. “If it were dead, I wouldn’t feel as I do every time you’re around. I wouldn’t want to be with you every moment. And I wouldn’t have felt so damn lost when you left this morning.”
Chapter 13
What started as a simple kiss quickly escalated. Nathan hadn’t even meant to kiss Margrett, he’d just somehow found himself leaning toward her. Margrett didn’t move away, didn’t object, and Nathan hadn’t been able to reel in his own movement. It began almost chastely; the gentle pressure of lips, the parting, a sigh so soft he almost wasn’t sure he’d heard it as he moved away, but stepping back hadn’t cooled the fire that had erupted in him the moment their lips had met. A gentle tug brought Margrett back into his arms.
Nathan hoped she wouldn’t feel the hesitation, the nervousness in his hands. Deft fingers that teased and tickled the cards up and down the Mississippi suddenly found themselves thick and heavy when filled with a woman.
Only this wasn’t just a woman. She was fire and innocence, an intoxicating blend of naïveté and tigress. At first, his mind tried to make connections to his dear Alice, the way her chin tilted up, the proud stance, the way her eyes flashed; these were traits they had in common, but otherwise, there was nothing at all the same between them.
Alice had been strong and quiet, a reserve of internal power and patience, but this… Margrett was reckless, wild, even free. Nathan thought at first that his heart looked for Alice because he missed her that much, but Margrett was a very effective balm to that deep old scar. Though Alice would never truly leave him, it wasn’t her he looked for. Not anymore.
The large doe-eyes of the girl in his arms, that look of complete trust intermingled with bewildered confusion when he touched her for the first time melted his heart. For the first time since Alice’s death, he could feel his blood pumping and the life flowing back into his body.
His hand reached out to hold her cheek; she leaned into the caress. At any moment, he half suspected she’d begin to purr.
He was probably as nervous as she was. It had been a long time since he’d had a woman, felt a woman’s eyelashes on his cheek, her warm breath on his chin. He’d studied, practiced, and worked hard to rid himself of tells in playing poker, to reach a state where his expression was enigmatic at best. Now, with Margrett, he was undone completely. The merest look, the whisper-soft feel of her lips brushing his cheek made Nathan feel as though his soul was on display.
This Margrett…she was enough to stop his breath and start his heart. For a moment his heart faltered a little. What would Alice’s reaction to all of this be? He couldn’t picture her angry about him having someone new to hold. She’d loved him, of that he was sure, but she wouldn’t want him to wallow in the past. Moving on…was right. It was time.
Nathan tightened his hold on Margrett, drawing her in closer, feeling her form curving against him as he bent his head to brush the top of her head with a gentle kiss.
As he did, he became uncomfortably aware of his own state. In close proximity to a beautiful woman, certain physical traits in a healthy man are made manifest, and his desire for this woman was no exception. She arched her eyebrows and looked down momentarily, then back up, a smile tugging at her lips. He shrugged as his face got a little redder, never losing his focus on her. She colored prettily and deeply but did not break away from his embrace.
He ran a finger from the cup in the base of her neck, trailing up to the tip of her chin and then holding that to tilt her head toward his.
“Are we dancing, Mr. Baker?” she asked him in a still, quiet voice, her arms coming up to wrap around his neck, swaying slightly in his embrace.
“A very old dance, Miss. Childs,” he murmured as he leaned down to kiss her. She raised a hand, forestalling the intimacy, pressing her fingers to his lips, her eyes never leaving his.
“I…” She swallowed hard and looked imploring into his eyes. “Mr. Baker, I…I do not trade favors for assistance…I just…it’s important that you understand this.”
“I never thought you did, Miss Childs,” he said, his palm sliding up her back, marveling that his hand was so broad that he could cover her entire shoulder blade when he spread his fingers just so. She was such a tiny thing compared to him. He should let her go, he was all sorts of an inconsiderate fool to hang on to her. He hadn’t considered the tell-tale connections of his actions.
“Do you think, Sir…” She turned away this time, speaking to his shoulder, “Do you think that we might talk a while?” She trembled as she spoke, this brave darling warrior who had no problem confronting a strange man in his bedroom, actually trembling. It surprised him what a strong desire he had to protect her, to help her. He’d never meant for his advances to be seen as asking for some form of payment. He’d only been reacting to his own desires, enjoying the heat and urgency that had risen between them, conscious that the feelings were mutual.
And for that reason, he let her go.
Chapter 14
He let his hand trail down her arm, to linger on her fingers.
“I have a plan to get your money back for you,” he said as fingertip to fingertip gave way, and the air opened between them. “but it will take some doing on your part. You need to do what I tell you. Are you game?”
Her nod was more than just agreement, she seemed distracted, almost entranced.
“Maybe you could clear a spot here on the table,” he gestured to their dishes, “While I run and try to find a few old things.”
Margrett nodded but made no move to do anything. Nathan excused himself and left the kitchen. He
didn’t really care whether or not she did the dishes. He’d only wished to give her something with which to occupy herself, to give her space she so desperately needed to create between them. He’d seen how quickly she’d caught her breath when he touched her, the gentle flush to her cheeks, the way she’d leaned into his kiss. Things were moving too quickly for her.
They were moving a little quickly for him too for that matter.
It was with relief that he rooted around in the attic. Getting the pieces together for his plan was going to have the extra benefit of clearing his head and allowing his growing passion to subside. It wasn’t just being courteous to her, he didn’t want to destroy this… whatever it was they had between them… by going too fast.
This was all so much easier with Alice…
But then, he’d grown up with Alice. They’d known each other since she’d worn her hair in pigtails. Moving from friend to lover had been natural…simple.
And had never held the fire he felt now.
He paused a moment in his search, resting a hand on the trunk that had been hers. Maybe that had been part of the problem – things had always been too easy between them. He’d never had to change who he was to be with her, so while she hated his gambling, he’d known how quickly she’d forgive him. There’d never been a reason to really…try.
Only there had been, and he’d learned the lesson too late.
So what am I doing here, now?
He set the lamp on an empty wooden crate and looked with regret on the trunk that had been his wife’s. Inside it was every aspect of her life, save the single picture he’d kept of her. Yet for the life of him, he couldn’t remember clearly a single thing he’d put in that trunk.
It’s time to let go. Move forward. The girl downstairs needs you right now. It’s your own feud with Morrison that invited such disaster. You have to make this right.
More than that, he wanted to make things right. While he hadn’t spent much time with Margrett, she intrigued him in ways no woman had since Alice had died. Even had there been no plot to hatch he would have found an excuse to delay her leaving.
Then maybe you’d better find what you came for before she gets bored and wanders off….
He rooted around in an old trunk tucked up under the eaves, one full of jackets and old clothes. He found a pair of leather chaps that he’d packed up and moved with him, even though he hadn’t run cattle since he was a boy. The thick leather on the outside had protected the rider’s legs from thorn bushes and rough country when riding down strays, but the inner liner was thin, breathable, bendable leather for comfort.
These were stained, old, and worn till the leather was thin and fraying. Perfect for what he needed.
A heavy iron awl, used for puncturing leather and sewing pieces together, an ink stick and inkwell and a very sharp, heavy-duty skinning knife and his scavenger hunt was complete. He returned downstairs, feeling a certain amount of satisfaction that things were coming together, to find that Margrett had cleared the table and was heating dishwater.
He’d given her enough time. She was obviously collected again and had even taken the time to put up her hair. He suspected that meant she’d taken certain liberties in his absence to collect those ridiculous little pins he’d found scattered all over his bedroom. He liked that about her that she’d had the courage to go after what she needed without asking his permission like a little girl begging favors from her father. He eyed her speculatively, wondering if she would be considered unladylike or forward in some circles and smiled. Margrett was one of these new modern women that had taken some getting used to the first time he’d come out west. He’d been a southern boy once upon a time, and this Boston girl was no plantation belle.
Thank the good Lord for that…a girl like that would never get through the plan he had in mind.
Which, as it turned out, she was definitely very interested in. Nathan was almost a little disappointed that she’d cooled so quickly. He eyed her as she leaned over the table while he sketched out the rough idea of what he was going to create. It would be interesting to see how quickly he might heat her up again later.
He shook his head at his mutinous thoughts proving that he was still a scoundrel, despite all the window dressing of respectability and fine houses. He suspected, though, that it would take a scoundrel to put that Cleveland Morrison in his place.
He had her help him pick the stays off of the chaps, and his blade tore into the thin leather lining. He pulled off a chunk of leather almost a yard long and half as wide.
“You really think this will work?” she asked, glancing from his sketch to the detritus of his scavenger hunt.
“I have no idea.” He flashed her a grin. “That’s why they call it a gamble.”
Chapter 15
“How would you feel about an evening constitutional before we get started?” He grinned at her from the mess on the kitchen table, looking like the boy he must have been, up to his elbows in mischief.
A walk? Margrett bit her lip and tried to think of an easy way out of this. Indulging in some rather wanton behavior within the confines of these four walls was one thing, but to be seen with Nathan in public at this hour? After the way she’d been treated for just stepping out of his house?
Margrett Childs, you stop that this instant. Either accept him for who he is or step away from this entire plan now. You’re behaving atrociously. You cannot simply use a handsome man for your pleasure and then refuse to acknowledge him in public the next day.
Cheeks burning, she cast about for a distraction to keep him from reading too much into her flush. “I fail to see how all this is going to be anything like what you talked about,” she said with a shake of her head, lifting first one piece of leather, then the next. “And isn’t it getting late?”
She busied herself with the awl, twisting it about in her hands as though fascinated by the simple tool.
“I know, but Ned should still be there.”
“Ned?”
“I want you to send a telegram to the Women’s Betterment League.”
Her head shot up. “But, there won’t be anyone there for days. Must we involve them?” She’d been under the impression that they were creating a rumor…somehow. This made it all seem like so much…scheming.
Oddly enough that thought held a wisp of excitement. Like playing a game involving so many seemingly random elements, with incredibly high stakes, might actually be…exciting?
“I’m counting on just that. But it’s necessary to get your money back,” Nathan said, offering his arm. Margrett looked at it for a while as if not understanding its function, finally slipping her hand into the crook of his arm.
“What do I say?”
She probably blanched when he told her. Was her reaction really all that unexpected? “They won’t know what that means, they’ll think I’ve gone mad.”
“Miss Childs,” Nathan patted her hand and closed the front door behind them. “If this works as I think it will, you’ll be there in person by the time they get the telegram. And I daresay that you’ll have one hell of a tale to tell.”
Why was there so little satisfaction in that notion? She glanced up at the man who walked so proudly next to her. The light was dim under the trees, and it was near impossible to make more than his profile. His brows drawn down in deep thought, his slightly crooked nose, his lips parted slightly as if he were about to say something.
Lips she dearly wanted to feel pressed against her own again.
I don’t want to go home.
There. That was the thought that had been teasing at her since he’d spoken of her being back in Boston in a matter of days. Not that she could ever tell him that.
She swallowed hard and nodded once, very carefully. “Very well.”
They had walked almost to the station again, a quiet, empty place in the setting sun of the high desert before she spoke again. “Thank you, Mr. Baker.”
Whether she meant for the money he promised to return, or for the
respite he’d given her, she didn’t know. Maybe it wasn’t important. Just saying the words felt right; let him interpret them as he would.
“You’re welcome,” he said, but as he reached for the door of the station, he added, “but it’s not over yet.”
There was only one person in the station at this late hour, and he looked like a man who would rather be anywhere else. The grand clock on the wall was monotonously clucking away the moments of his life that he would never get back. He stared at its face as if waiting for his own stay of execution.
When he saw Nathan Baker, he shifted and straightened. Wide eyes and the way the blood drained from his face indicated he was afraid of Nathan. Margrett wondered just how many people in town believed the rumors of Nathan killing his wife. The tale wasn’t limited to what she’d heard on the train, she’d heard whispers throughout the day as well.
She hung back a little as Nathan stopped a step before the window to the office and nodded to her. Oh, but I don’t want to be doing this. Anything else, yes. But sending this message? With dragging feet, she stepped forward. A quick look at up at his face reassured her. She pulled out a piece of paper from her bag and walked the rest of the way to the window with steadier steps, even if her throat had gone dry, and her hands were shaking. “I would like to send a message, please.” She was pleasantly surprised at the way her voice stayed even and strong. Her knees were shaking so hard, she began to believe they were trying to swap sides, but her voice was calm and cool.
“Where to, Miss?”
“Lady’s Betterment League, Boston Massachusetts.” She rattled off the address and who to send it care of.
The man shot a nervous glance to Nathan and swallowed hard. “Go… go ahead.” He grabbed a pencil and waited.
“Arrived safely in Flagstaff. STOP. Ran into small difficulty with locals, have lost pin money. STOP. Sister Julia Thomas’s map in safe hands. STOP. Have enlisted one Mr. Nathan Baker to assist in procurement. STOP.” Margrett refolded her slip of paper and took a deep breath. “Sign that Margrett Childs care of Arizona Lady’s Betterment League.”
The Gamble Page 7
