by Bobbi Smith
"I'll find some place. I'll sleep out if I have to," she answered, "and you don't hafta worry. I won't run off."
"Sorry, Rori, but you're staying with me," he replied adamantly.
"But I don't want to stay here."
"Why not?" Chance was growing exasperated. He was hot, tired, and dirty. He wanted a comfortable bed, a bath, and clean sheets.
"I don't like it."
"It's the best hotel in town, Rori! I know it isn't much, but it's better than the alternative. Now, let's go." He turned away from her and strode with Doug into the hotel lobby.
Rori wanted to keep arguing, but she knew it was useless to try to explain to him. Chance was going to find out firsthand "why not" just as soon as she walked into the lobby anyway. Virgil Keeps would not let her stay in his hotel; she felt sure of it.
She sighed deeply as she was forced to surrender to his will and then advised her pet, "Wait here, Jakie." Grabbing her things from Patch's back, she hurried after Chance and Doug.
"Well, Broderick, welcome back," Keeps greeted his former customer warmly. He was an avid fan of money and genuinely fond of paying guests.
"Hello, Keeps," Chance returned. "My brother and I are going to need three rooms for tonight."
"Three?" He raised his eyebrows as he questioned Chance's statement. When Chance nodded that he had heard him correctly, he rumbled, "You got somebody else joinin' you?"
"Yes," Chance answered a bit curtly, not wanting him to know his private business.
"Fine, fine." Keeps was grinning as he turned the ledger around so they could register. As they were signing in, he looked up and caught sight of Rori standing just inside the doorway. He raced around the counter heading toward Rori, intending to throw her bodily out of his establishment. "Get outta here, boy! I've told you before I don't let your kind in here with good, clean-living white folks!"
He was just about to grab her when Chance spoke up. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, Keeps."
"Rori's with us," Doug said firmly.
"This breed's with you?" Keeps was stunned as he looked back and forth between the two white men and the grubby-looking Indian boy.
"Yes. The third room is for Rori, but if you have a problem with that, we can easily take our business elsewhere." His threat was subtle but effective as he reached into his pocket for the cash he needed to pay for the accommodations.
The greedy hotel owner quickly backed down. He gave Rori a hate-filled look and then turned back to fawn over Chance and Doug. "I suppose I can make an exception this time . . ."
"I was hoping you'd see things our way," Chance responded, glancing back at Rori, his expression telling her that now he understood her reasoning.
Rori had been ready for a fight when Keeps had come at her so threateningly. She knew the bigoted white man, and she knew he would stop at nothing to get her out of his hotel. Her hand had been on her knife, and she'd been prepared to use it.
However, when Chance warned the other man off relief swept through Rori followed by a new respect for the man who was her guardian. The realization that he'd stood up for her against this man surprised and pleased her. It was a rare day when anyone backed old Virgil Keeps down, and she had loved every minute of it. As Chance's gaze met hers, she couldn't resist giving him a quick, bright smile.
"Top of the steps and to the right, the three rooms at the far end of the hall," Keeps directed as he handed them the keys and quickly picked up the money Chance had tossed on the counter.
"Thanks," Chance said less than graciously as he and Doug started upstairs. "Come on, Rori."
"How long do you think you'll be stayin'?" Keeps asked as he watched Rori follow them.
"Don't know yet," Chance answered without looking back, "but when we decide you'll be among the first to know, Keeps. By the way, send up a hot bath to Rori's room right away, and then one for my brother and me later on tonight."
"Right away!" the hotel owner replied respectfully. He watched them disappear down the hall and wasn't sure whether to cuss or celebrate. He definitely needed the money, but he sure didn't need any damned Indian staying there.
Aggravated, Keeps sat back in his chair for a minute to hungrily count out the cash Chance had paid in advance. He was torn until he finally convinced himself that he could stand the breed's presence for a little while, since it meant renting three rooms extra a night. With dollar signs in his eyes, he hoped they'd be in town for at least a few more days. Stuffing the money down in his pants pocket, he hurried out back to see about the bath Broderick wanted for the boy.
Doug and Chance exchanged a few words, and then Doug went on into his room, leaving Chance to get Rori settled in. She reached for the doorknob to the room he'd indicated as hers, intending to open the door and barge on inside, when Chance stepped in front of her to stop her.
"A lady always waits for her gentleman to open any doors for her," he admonished gently, delivering another unsolicited etiquette lesson.
"But I ain't no lady," she pointed out with maddening logic.
"It's only a matter of time, Rori," Chance assured her. "We're about to change all that."
They were standing just inches apart, and Rori found that she was suddenly breathless. They hadn't been this physically close since that morning she'd awakened to find herself in his arms. She slowly lifted her gaze to his, trying not to let her unexpected excitement show in her expression. She didn't want him to know how he could affect her. She didn't want him to know that she craved his embrace.
"Why?" Rori finally managed to ask.
"Because if you're going to have a successful life in Boston, you have to master the social amenities and become a lady."
"I don't mean 'why' about learnin' all your 'social amenities' or how to become a lady. I just want to know why men think they have to open doors for girls. I've been opening doors for myself all my life. It's not hard to do."
"It's done as a sign of respect, Rori."
The explanation Chance offered sounded dumb to Rori, but she did not argue the point. She wanted to get away from him as quickly as she could. She waited impatiently for him to open the door and then proceeded inside, trying not to brush against him as she went. Once they were in the sparsely furnished, but relatively clean room, she turned to Chance.
"Well, now what?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, we're here in Phoenix. What do you want me to do?"
"The first thing you're going to do is take a bath when they bring it up. Then stay here in your room until I come back for you."
"All right," she answered as if it really mattered very little to her that he was going to leave her all alone.
"I'll be back," he told her, and he was gone, striding purposefully from her room.
Rori looked around herself at the single bed with its colorful, lightweight quilt, small washstand with a mirror hanging above it, and small dresser, and she thought it a rather comfortable room. To Rori these were luxurious accommodations, and she flopped down on the bed and stretched out across its softness. She folded her arms comfortably beneath her head and stared up at the ceiling.
Rori was just about to drift off when a knock sounded at the door. Thinking and hoping that it was Chance coming back already, she jumped up and ran to throw it wide. To her disappointment, it was the hotel maids bringing the tub and water. She let them in and said nothing as they prepared the bath. When they'd gone, Rori stood staring at it for a few minutes. She hadn't bathed since that last day in the village and strangely enough she found herself actually looking forward to the prospect of scrubbing off all the trail dirt.
Rori made short order of stripping off her filthy clothes, and she even went so far as to unbraid her hair so she could wash it. The heat of the water was like a velvet caress as she stepped into the tub, and she sank down into it with a soft sigh. With relish, she picked up the soap that had been provided and began to scrub every inch of her body. She wet her hair and washed that, too. It wasn't long
before she was done, and she climbed out to dry off, rubbing herself vigorously with a towel.
Rori was tired, and she hated the thought of putting her dirty clothes back on. Since Chance hadn't told her a time, she figured he wouldn't be back for a while so she had time to take a nap. Rori was heading for the bed when she caught sight of herself in the small mirror over the washstand. She paused and stared at the slender young woman who was reflected there. Her hair was ebony and hung in a sleek cape about her shoulders. Her breasts were round and full, her waist almost waspishly thin. Her hips were gently curved, and her legs long and shapely. There wasn't an ounce of extra fat on her body, and Rori guessed that she was attractive enough, although she had no way to really compare herself to anyone. All the white women she'd ever seen had been dressed from their necks to their wrists to their ankles, and it was impossible to render a judgment from that.
It occurred to her suddenly that she didn't know what Chance intended to do with her. He had said something about making her into a lady, but she had no idea what that meant or how soon he intended to start. She didn't know if he wanted her to continue to dress as a boy or if he was going to insist that she begin dressing as a female right now. Frankly, she would rather have continued her charade as a boy, but she didn't think that would work much longer, especially since they were heading back East. Shrugging, she went to lie down on the bed. She wrapped the cover around her and closed her eyes, meaning only to rest until Chance came back.
Chance stood in the middle of the dry goods store studying the selection of ladies wear and wondering what to buy.
"Can I help you with something, sir?" the middle-aged, balding clerk asked, eyeing Chance askance and wondering what he wanted with women's things.
"Yes, I need a wardrobe for a lady."
The retailer's eyes lit up at the thought of a sale. "What in particular did you need?"
"Everything," Chance answered firmly.
"Everything, sir?"
"Yes. I need a dress, undergarments, a nightgown, shoes . . . "
"Everything." He smiled broadly. "Let me show you what we've got . . . What size is your lady?"
Chance started to protest that she wasn't his lady, but thought better of it. It was no one's business but his own who he was buying clothes for.
"She's . . . um . . ." Chance grinned wryly as he tried to calculate Rori's proportions. As best he could, he described her figure to him. He gave an estimate of her height and her weight, the slimness of her waist easily spanned by his two hands and the fullness of her curves. The memory of pressing kisses to her tender flesh stirred in the back of his mind, and he fought it down.
"I see," the salesman replied as he began to show Chance a variety of items.
Chance was not pleased with the quality of the underthings, and the only dress he had that might fit Rori was quite plain, but Chance knew he had little real choice here in Phoenix. He decided to take what he could get, but as soon as they reached St. Louis, he was going to buy her an entire wardrobe.
When Chance inquired about getting another daygown made for her, the clerk gave him the address of a dressmaker in town. After paying for the things he'd selected, he left the store and went to the seamstress's house. The woman agreed to do a rush job for them, so Chance made an appointment for Rori for later that same day.
All in all, Chance was satisfied with the success he'd had shopping as he headed back for the hotel. At least now she had feminine clothes to wear while they were traveling.
He crossed through the lobby without even bothering to speak to Keeps and took the stairs two at a time in his eagerness to see Rori in the dress he'd brought with him. He knocked softly at her door and waited for her to answer it. When she didn't respond to his summons right away, he grew tense and immediately suspected the worst.
Had Rori promised not to run away while they were on the trail, only to leave now that they were in town? It seemed logical to Chance, and he angrily tried the doorknob. It was unlocked, as he'd expected it to be. She had probably just been waiting for him to disappear from sight before running away. He cursed himself for ever having trusted her as he opened the door and walked in.
Chance was stunned, to say the least, to find Rori wrapped in the quilt, sound asleep on the bed. He took another step inside the room and silently closed the door behind him, all the while rejoicing that she hadn't fled. He approached the bed slowly with measured tred, and as he drew near the side, he gazed down at her enchanted. How lovely she was . . . how beautiful . . .
Spellbound, he set the parcel aside that contained the clothing he'd bought for her and reached out to brush the heavy silk of her hair away from her cheek. At his gentle touch, Rori stirred and opened her eyes to see him standing over her.
"Chance . . ." She whispered his name in a sigh. She'd been dreaming about him, she realized, and here he was. Almost without volition, she lifted her arms to him. The movement let the quilt fall away, revealing to him the beauty of her breasts.
Chance stood frozen where he was. The temptation to take her while she was sleepy and didn't know what she was doing was great. Heat surged through him as his gaze lingered on her bosom. He longed to press his lips to that burgeoning flesh, to cradle her softness against him and know the joy of joining with her again. It jolted him to realize what he was thinking, and he forced himself to step back away from her.
"For God's sake, woman, cover yourself!" he ordered in a what sounded strangled to him, but disgusted to Rori.
Embarrassed, Rori clutched the covers to her breasts. "What are you doing in here?" she demanded, going on the offensive, for she was humiliated by her own display of longing for him. She didn't want him to know how much she really needed to be held in his arms.
"When I knocked on the door you didn't answer . . ."
"So you thought you'd just barge right on in?"
"I thought you might have hurt yourself some way or that you might have . . ."
She realized what he'd been thinking and grew furious. He still didn't trust her, even after she'd given him her word! "You were afraid that I had run away, weren't you? You didn't trust me to stick around without you watchin' over me every minute, did you?"
Chance looked suitably contrite, his hunger to touch her fading slightly before her indignation. Still, he couldn't help but notice how lovely she was when she was angry, how her green eyes flashed emerald fire at him and how her bosom rose and fell in agitation over his doubting of her.
When he didn't answer right away, Rori went on. "I may not be one of your fancy eastern ladies, Chance Broderick, but my grampa raised me to value my honor. When I give my word that I'll do something, I do it!"
"I'm sorry for doubting you, Rori," he finally spoke.
She was still angry with him, but she let it go. Her point made. "What did you want? Did you just want to see if I'd taken a bath like you told me to? Well, I did."
"I can see that," Chance replied, glancing back at the tub and discarded damp towel. "I came back because I bought you some clothes."
"Clothes?" Rori wasn't sure whether to be happy or cautious. She'd longed for something clean to wear, but she wondered exactly what he'd gotten her. "You bought me clothes?"
"Yes." He reached for the package that contained the dress and underthings and untied the string that bound it. Opening it up, he spread out the new garments on the bed before her for inspection. "Here."
Rori stared wide-eyed at the lovely things—daygown, chemise, stockings, shoes. "You bought these for me?"
"I think they'll fit. I was guessing your size."
She continued to stare at them for a minute, and then, her heart heavy, she shook her head. "Nope. I ain't gonna wear 'em. What I got is fine. I'll just wear my own clothes."
Chance had thought that he would please her with the dress and accessories. He didn't know a woman alive who didn't love getting new clothes, and he was completely baffled by her response.
"Rori, you're going to be traveling on st
agecoaches and trains. You have to look the part of a lady."
"I don't have to do nothin'," she declared firmly, refusing to budge. "My clothes are fine."
Chance had had it. Enough was enough. "Rori, your clothes are fine for living in the desert, but I will not allow you to be the laughingstock of Boston. Do you understand me?"
"Do you understand me, Chance? I said 'no'!"
"Put on the dress, Rori."
"No."
"If you don't do it willingly, I'll dress you myself!"
"Go ahead, if you think you're man enough!" Rori knew the minute she said it that she shouldn't have dared him, for a fierce fire suddenly glowed in the depths of his dark eyes.
"You doubt that I can do it, Rori?" Chance grinned wickedly as he reached out and grabbed the top of the quilt. In one easy motion he stripped the cover from her, leaving her naked before him. Without pausing, he snared her wrist, jerked her up, and hauled her full against him.
The contact of her bare flesh against him was explosive. Chance knew he should have realized touching her would be a mistake, but he'd been too annoyed at the time by her challenge. The force of the emotions that rocketed through him startled Chance, and he stared down at her as she knelt before him on the bed.
Rori had intended to struggle with him, to fight him in his attempt to dress her, but suddenly this wasn't about getting dressed anymore. Suddenly, this was something totally different. She ran the tip of her tongue nervously over her lips as she tried to decide what to do.
Rori was completely surprised when Chance gave an audible groan and bent down to capture her lips with his. His tongue moved boldly to claim hers, delving deep within the honeyed sweetness of her mouth. It was a hot, devastating exchange.
Melting against him, Rori gave up all thoughts of fighting. She had wanted this—oh how she'd wanted this! She'd dreamed of being in his arms, of his wanting her again, and now it was happening. Chance had released her wrist, and she looped her arms around his neck now to draw him even closer. She could feel the heat and hardness of him and crave even more intimate contact with him.
