Abducted at the Altar

by Charlene Sands

  “Hey, you through yet?” Jeremiah called out impatiently. “What’s the big ol’ secret anyways? Are you two arguing again?”

  “We’re not arguing,” Dorie called out, then hooked her arm into his. “We’re just discussing our plans. Right, Shane?”

  Shane began walking with Dorie latched onto him. “Right,” he muttered. “But if anyone is sleeping on the floor, it’s going to me, Dorie.”

  “Seems silly that any of us have to sleep on the floor. I’m sure the bed’s big enough for two.”

  “Dorie,” Shane warned, “I mean it. I’ll turn the wagon around and we’ll part ways real quick.”

  Dorie smiled, reminding him of a satisfied cat. “If you insist.”

  “I do.”

  Shane wondered after a moment if he’d just won the battle or lost it. Either way, he’d be hugging the floor tonight.

  Chapter Eleven

  “This room is beautiful, Shane.” Dorie took it all in, from the colorful floral wallpaper to the lacy deep gold velvet curtains. She spun around glancing at the furnishings and Shane figured she’d never been around such finery in her life.

  “It should be, for what it cost,” Shane muttered, dropping the valises down, then tossing his hat onto the marble-topped mahogany armoire. He’d wrestled Dorie’s big trunk up the stairs right after he’d signed in with the desk clerk as Mr. and Mrs. Shane Graham. It still made him jumpy thinking of all the deception yet to come.

  “Well, it couldn’t be helped. The Parkers are staying here at the Silver Rose Hotel and it wouldn’t look right if we took a room in a different part of town.”

  “Especially since most parts of this town aren’t fit for decent folk.”

  Dorie let his comment drop while she busied herself with unpacking her valise. Shane did the same, and it seemed strange sharing space with her in the six-drawer armoire. He’d hung most of his things from the fancy brass hooks provided, and the rest he placed in the lower drawers, leaving the upper drawers for Dorie.

  “You’ve got those drawers filled up almost and you haven’t yet opened your trunk.” He pointed to the massive trunk that nearly buckled his knees while carrying it up the stairs. “You gonna tell me what’s in there now?”

  Dorie glanced at the trunk. She nibbled on her lower lip. “Uh, not yet.”

  “What’s the big secret?” Shane asked, approaching the trunk. He looked down at it with curiosity. “You got a dead body in there or something?”

  “Shane!” Dorie chuckled nervously. “How about I show you what’s in the trunk after dinner?”

  “Why? Is it gonna ruin my appetite?”

  “No, silly. It’s just… I’m not ready to show you yet.”

  Shane shrugged, refusing to think on it any further. His stomach grumbled and he realized that evening approached and they hadn’t had supper yet. They’d wasted away most of the afternoon with Henry Randolph and his folks. The Randolphs insisted they stay for a visit and, while Dorie seemed anxious to leave, Shane figured the more time they’d spend with company, the less time he and Dorie would have to spend alone.

  Wasn’t a bad idea using a measure of prudence.

  “I’ll just clean up a bit and then we’ll go downstairs,” Dorie said. Shane sat on a wing chair, the only place to sit his bones other than the fancy bed. Shane figured he’d never feel the softness of that lavish quilt-covered mattress and that was just fine with him. Maybe he’d sleep in the chair tonight, propping his legs up on Dorie’s mysterious leather trunk.

  Shane watched Dorie dip a small towel into a porcelain bowl of water she’d just poured. She used the corner edge of that towel to wash her face, scrubbing road dust from her cheeks, before lifting her chin and stroking her throat with the moistened washcloth. Water droplets ran a path down her throat and into the bodice of her modest dress, the act so feminine and appealing Shane shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

  Her cheeks rosy now and her lips moist and just as pink, her whole face glowed. “Your turn,” she said, offering him a dry washcloth. “That’s if you like.”

  Shane rose and cleared his throat. “I suppose.”

  Dorie stood by his side, watching as he scrubbed his face and neck, none too delicately. Her eyes took on a gleam once he’d finished. “What?”

  “Nothing,” Dorie said with a smile. “Except this feels right. Like what a normal married couple would do, watching each other clean up.”

  Shane couldn’t deny the scene was domestic, but he wasn’t enjoying it, not one bit. Being this close to Dorie made him jittery, and nothing irked him more than acting like a nervous schoolboy around a woman.

  He tossed down his towel, noting how Dorie then took both towels and folded them neatly—next to each other on the dresser top. “You ready?”

  “Sure, let’s go downstairs.”

  Shane locked the door behind him as they exited their room. Dorie immediately laced her arm through his and, instead of dining at the hotel, they strolled down the street until they found a café.

  “We can save some money until the Parkers arrive,” Dorie said, but Shane had no intention of having her pay for their meal anyway.

  The café was small and crowded but they managed to find a place to sit down. They ordered the same items from the menu and Shane found it intriguing that he and Dorie liked similar dishes—chicken and dumplings with creamed corn, and apple cobbler for dessert.

  They ate in silence, the boisterous little eating establishment too loud for any kind of conversation. Once they had their fill they took another stroll to stretch their legs. Shane led Dorie through the part of town that he deemed safe, although no part of Virginia City would ever be completely safe for a woman alone. The city’s male population outnumbered the female by at least ten to one and a young pretty girl strolling the streets by herself only meant trouble.

  If anyone could find trouble, it’d be Dorie McCabe.

  “Shane, we should go up to our room now,” Dorie announced, as they approached the hotel.

  They’d been walking the streets of town now for forty minutes, engaging in polite conversation. Shane had hoped to stay out of that hotel room until both were too exhausted to do anything but sleep. He didn’t want any undue temptation. And he figured a tuckered out Dorie would fall asleep on that comfortable bed the second her head hit the pillow.

  It’s what he’d been hoping, at least.

  “So soon? It’s early yet. Do you want to see the opera house? Or how about the—”

  “I imagine we’ll be doing some of that tomorrow with the Parkers, Shane.”

  Dorie had a point.

  “How about I buy you a sasparilla?”

  “You’ve already bought my supper, Shane. I don’t expect you to pay for things. I got you into this, remember?”

  Shane smiled grudgingly. “I won’t be forgetting that anytime soon.”

  “Besides, I thought you wanted to see what I had in my trunk.”

  “I do.” He’d been curious ever since laying eyes on that brown leather trunk early this morning, and with Dorie being so mysterious about it’s contents, Shane figured he should know what she had in there.

  “Well, I’m getting too tired to walk anymore and if we don’t go up now, I’ll just flop into bed.”

  That’s what Shane had hoped, but Dorie appeared truly worn out tonight and he couldn’t push her any more. “Okay you first,” he said, gesturing with a wide sweep of his arms. They entered the hotel lobby and Shane followed her upstairs. She waited while he opened the door and, once inside, the room seemed to have shrunk in size. Only the glow of one lantern light illuminated the hallway, and once Dorie lit the lamp inside, Shane closed the door completely, locking them in.

  “Have a seat, Shane. I figure it’s time to show you how I’ve been surviving all these years.”

  Shane sat down on the wing chair.

  “It’s a secret only Jeremiah knows about. Now, I’m sharing it with you. Promise not to think unkindly of me after I show you.”


  Shane’s heart raced with uncertain dread. Dorie wasn’t much for keeping secrets. Up until the time when Mrs. Whitaker schooled her on manners and such, she’d usually blurt out exactly what was on her mind. So Shane figured this wasn’t something that made Dorie proud. Now he cursed his own curiosity, but it was too late. He’d asked, and she seemed overly determined to show him. “I’ll try, Dorie, but I can’t promise.”

  “Okay, close your eyes.”

  “Close my eyes?”

  “Yes, that’s what I said. Please.”

  “They’re shut good and tight.”

  Shane heard Dorie open the trunk, followed by muffled swishing sounds. After a minute with his eyes closed, he felt Dorie’s close presence, breathed in her flowery scent and heard her clear her throat. “Okay, you can open them now.”

  Shane opened his eyes to find Dorie standing before him. He blinked once then stared.

  “This is how I make a living, Shane. And I’m not ashamed of it.”

  With her hair falling from it’s pins, her face rosy, wearing an elaborate gown of crimson silk and white lace, fitted to her body like a sleek glove, Shane sucked in a lungful of oxygen and came to one instant conclusion. Dorie had never looked more beautiful…or flashy. She looked as if she was ready to…entertain a man.

  This is how I make a living.

  Her breasts strained the confines of the material holding her in. Twin mounds rose up and out, and only the teasing of thin elaborate lace hid the very tips of her breasts. The gown accentuated her tiny waist, flaring out at the hips, creating a vision that was all female, all alluring.

  Shane rose from his seat, his groin tight, his heart beating hard. But while he admired her beauty, he condemned her wholly for her lack of decency.

  And I’m not ashamed of it.

  Her prideful words pounded in his head.

  “This is how you make your living?” he asked, wanting clarification.

  “Yes, I sell my wares. And I’m good at what I do.”

  Shane slammed his eyes shut. Rage filled his heart for thinking Dorie the innocent in all this. For believing he’d been protecting and helping a young girl who had no one else. He’d denied himself her charms, thinking to hold her reputation intact when all the while she’d been taunting and tempting him. He spoke through gritted teeth, anger seething forth. “You played me for a fool, Dorie McCabe.”

  “No, Shane. I couldn’t tell anyone my secret. I was afraid no one would understand. I was desperate after mama died. And I have this talent for—”

  Shane grabbed her waist, pulling her forward, meshing their bodies together. Through the thin silk he felt her breasts crush against him. “You owe me, Dorie.”

  “I know I do. I was planning on paying you. I’ll have some money soon. Just don’t be angry.”

  Shane’s mind shut out all rational thought. “Oh, I’m angry and you will pay me, but I don’t want your money, Dorie.” Shane reached around and cupped her derriere, pressing her more firmly into his arousal. She gasped then sighed against him. “Shane,” she said softly, her startled eyes softening to his.

  He had no more words. He’d had his fill of Dorie’s lies and deception. He’d wanted her for a long time, and now that he knew he could have her, nothing would stop him. He crushed his lips against hers, thrusting his tongue into her mouth. Their tongues danced and fire erupted inside him. He’d been tempted too long. Now, he’d be given his due.

  He stroked her tongue in openmouthed frenzy, her little throaty moans spurring his desire. He wove his fingers deep into her hair, pulling her head back to kiss her throat, lick her lips and continue on with kisses that made him ache.

  Then he pushed away the material from her bodice, feeling the soft lace against his hand. But the lace didn’t compare to the feel of Dorie’s soft flesh in his palm. He slid his hand in to cup her breast, flicking his thumb over her nipple, making her nearly swoon with cries of delight. He pushed harder against the material, bending down now to taste the sweetness there, to moisten and tease the tight peak until Dorie cried out even louder. He stretched the material of her gown aside as far as he could to gain further access, his mouth greedy for more of her.

  “Be careful…” she breathed out. “Please, don’t rip the gown.”

  Shane didn’t care about ripping the gown. He’d split the material down to her toes to take it off her if need be. He lifted her then, deciding to enjoy the comfort of the bed, and they both went down together, Shane toppling over her.

  “Shane,” she whispered between kisses. “I mean it. We can’t rip the gown.”

  Shane pulled at the material of her gown again bearing her creamy soft shoulders. Planting hungry kisses there he ignored Dorie’s pleas. He’d never force himself upon a woman; but from Dorie’s soft sighs and moans of pleasure she’d given him every reason to believe she enjoyed this as much as he did. He didn’t give a damn about her gown. “I’ll buy you another one.”

  He pulled at the fabric even more and the gown slipped down further, her breasts popping out from their confinement. With hungry eyes, he looked his fill without regret or guilt. “You’re perfect,” he whispered, bending down to kiss each rosy tip, his manhood growing harder with each passing moment.

  “Oh, Shane,” she breathed, running her fingers through his hair and arching her body to him. “So are you.”

  Shane didn’t believe her now. She was schooled to say pleasing words and so he shoved aside thoughts of her doing this with other men from his mind. He couldn’t think right now, his body had taken over. He wanted her.

  Shane yanked at the dress again, wanting more of her, but when a bit of lace tore the sound startled Dorie. She pushed at Shane, shoving him off of her and raising herself up on the bed. “Oh no!”

  “Let me take the damn thing off you then.”

  Dorie’s face fell inspecting the damage. “Yes, take it off me,” she agreed and Shane moved to unfasten the buttons that ran a path down from her bustline to her waist. “I’m sorry.” She smiled at him. “But I can’t afford to ruin this. I haven’t sold it yet.”

  “Why sell it?” Shane asked, busy with the buttons now, ready to claim Dorie once and for all.

  “Because, that’s what I do. I sell the gowns I create.”

  Shane stopped unbuttoning her, his fingers freezing up, his mind working hard to comprehend. “You sell the gowns?”

  Dorie’s eyes fluttered a moment, distracted by the tiny tear in her lace. “Yes, I told you. I sell them to the brothels. These gowns are for prostitutes. That’s how I make my living, Shane. Like I said, I sew.”

  Shane’s arousal crumbled. His heart beat with dread. He began shaking his head. “You never said you sewed. You said you sold your ‘wares’.”

  “My wares are my gowns,” she said puzzled. “I sew them at home and sell them here. I have a standing order with Mrs. Miniver’s House. I do what I have to, Shane. I’m not ashamed of it, but I can’t let my secret out to too many. At least, I’m smart enough to know that.”

  Stunned, Shane still couldn’t believe the wealth of feelings Dorie evoked in him. Lust, anger, regret, relief and disdain. “So, you and I, you let me… I mean…we almost…” He winced. “You’ve never done this before?”

  Dorie shook her head. “No. I told you. I never let anyone touch me, except you.”

  Shane gulped down hard. The realization of what he’d done, the mistake he’d made, was more than he could bear.

  “I have to get out of here,” he said, his head ready to combust. He pointed his finger, ignoring the sexy picture she made, standing there with a confused expression, half in, half out of the gown she’d created for a whore. “I want you to get into bed and be asleep by the time I get back. Do you understand?”

  “But, Shane—”

  “No! This was a mistake.”

  “Where are you—”

  “I don’t want discuss this. Just go to bed, Dorie. I’ll be back later. Much later. Don’t you dare wait up. Go
t that?”

  He didn’t wait for Dorie to agree, he simply grabbed his hat and exited the room.

  And headed for the nearest saloon.

  Dorie woke to a room filled with sunlight. She stretched her arms above her head and yawned before she realized where she was and what had happened last night.

  Shane still managed to confound and confuse her. One minute he’d been kissing her senseless, the next he’d been so angry he couldn’t bear to stay in the same room with her. Dorie hadn’t quite been sure exactly why he’d been angry. Was it that she’d lied about her craft? She’d explained herself and had trusted him with the truth. Or was it because he’d misunderstood her meaning? He couldn’t possibly think she would actually sell herself… But that would explain his sudden ardor last night. Dorie hadn’t been sure exactly why he’d suddenly pulled her into his arms, she’d only been glad that he had.

  She’d hoped he had come to his senses, realizing he couldn’t marry Marilee, not when he wanted her so badly. And he had. Last night he’d told her with his body how much he wanted her. Then he’d stopped, claiming it a mistake, much to Dorie’s dismay. She feared Shane would never see things her way, not when he felt honor bound to marry a woman he didn’t care for. Not when Tobias Barkley held the future of the Bar G Ranch in the palm of his hand.

  Dorie looked over to where Shane slept on the wing chair, slouched with a half-empty bottle of whiskey braced against his thigh. He’d come in very late last night, stumbling inside the room, and Dorie had thought it best not to say a thing. Both of them needed sleep more than they needed an argument.

  Shane didn’t look as if he’d rouse soon.

  She’d let him sleep off the whiskey while she dressed and cleaned up a bit, then she’d wake him.

  Ten minutes later, after she’d given herself a quick wash and pinned up her hair, she opened her trunk, pulling out the gown she’d fashioned just for this occasion. The material had cost her a pretty penny, eating into her profits, but it was necessary in her estimation. Dorie had to appear well established in society with no monetary concerns; the gown, not too different in style from the one she wore last night, would create that impression. The pretty shade of soft pink would complement her complexion, and the bodice, cut a bit higher on the chest with a lovely heart-shaped neckline, was the latest in fashion. Dorie lifted the gown over her head to settle nicely over her chemise and petticoats. She struggled with the buttons, fastening them from behind as best she could.