by Lynn Donovan
He had gently placed her on his bed and stood back. Should he call a doctor? If she was this delicate of a flower, she’d never make a good detective. What was Archie thinking, accepting her as a trainee, let alone assigning her as Ransom’s partner… and wife?
His wife! She was his wife, but in name only. They would not consummate. It was a marriage of convenience, so they could be partners and work together without socially ruining her reputation.
He looked around his small home. This would never do. There was hardly enough room for him, let alone a second person. This bed was too small—
What was he thinking? They would never share a bed!
He’d sleep on the floor. One chair sat at a small table which allowed him a respectable place to write or eat— when he ate here. Usually, Pearl fed him along with the other agents at the Pinkerton office. She’d send him home with slices of pie or cake. But he couldn’t remember the last time he fired up the stove to so much as boil water. He kept the apartment just so he had a place to call his own. But the Pinkerton dorms were more convenient when he came in, changed into fresh clothes, and received his next assignment. That was his lifestyle. Constantly on the move. Traveling all over America and Canada, doing Pinkerton business, solving crimes, protecting people from harm.
He glanced at the dossier lying on the little table. This assignment was here in Denver. It was the case he’d been hoping to get. Just the type of challenge he enjoyed. No one had been able to figure this one out. So smooth and clean was the thief that not a single trace of his entry or exit could be found, except for an expensive item being gone. Poof! Just spirited out of the owner’s possession. That was why the newspapers had labeled the culprit The Ghost Thief.
And he had a partner to train.
Except she was a female. His thoughts returned to her. She looked like one of the China dolls his sister collected. Perfect in form, but easily broken. How could Archie do this? How could Ransom teach a woman to be a Pinkerton? The job itself required strength—physical strength, mental strength, and spiritual strength. He stood next to the bed, observing her slender waist, thin fingers, narrow shoulders, long neck, sharp jaw, and slightly upturned nose.
Suddenly, she inhaled, deep and quick. Her eyes sprang open, and she shot up, her feet swinging from the bed to the floor. Ransom stopped her from leaping to stand and forced her to remain sitting. “It’s alright.”
“Where am I?” Her eyes darted around the room, wild and afraid.
“You’re alright.” Ransom found himself without words. He wanted to sit beside her, take her into his arms, hold her close to him, and comfort her. But he could do none of those instinctive things. “Do you remember what happened?”
Feral eyes lifted to pierce his. “I—of course. We—you and I—” She lifted a delicate hand and raked the wispy curls at her temple back in line with her hair. She cleared her throat. “You are my partner… and my- my husband. We are Pinkerton agents and we have a case to solve.”
Ransom chuckled despite himself. “Well, I am a Pinkerton agent. You are a trainee. Although, I’m not so sure—”
“Now, wait a minute!” She scooted up on the bed to get farther from him. Her eyes swept the room. “Is this your home?”
Distracted by her sudden change, he glanced around too. Seeing his place through very different eyes, he frowned. “I know it’s small. I only stay here when I’m not placed on assignment immediately following another.”
She stood. He tried to stop her, but she pushed his helping hands aside. “I’m fine.”
Spying the small table and single chair, she glided to it and sat down. “Do you have a tea kettle?”
“Sure.” Ransom found himself rushing to a two door cabinet and fishing out a dented sauce pan. He held it up to show her he had the means to boil water. She frowned. “That’s it?”
He shrugged.
She sighed. “Could I ask…?” She knew what he’d said outside, but prayed she’d heard him wrong. “What is our assignment? Will we be leaving soon?” Her eyes slowly moved around the apartment. Obvious concern evident in her miserable expression.
“Seriously.” Ransom sat on his bed. “I think there’s been a mistake, here.”
Her sorrow turned to a sharp glare. “And why do you say that?”
“Really? You fainted! Over what, I have no idea. But a Pinkerton operative must be of a stronger constitution than—”
“You think I’m too… delicate to be a Pinkerton operative? You don’t know me! You have no idea what I’m capable of, Mr. Williams!”
“Exactly. And I don’t think Gordon knew either. It’s alright. We’ll just go back to the office. Judge Hotchkiss will issue an annulment, and—”
“And what?”
Movement under her skirt indicated she had crossed her legs. Her arms wove tight across her chest. His eyes caught the angry movement of her foot swinging at her hem. Mesmerized by the thought of how beautiful her legs would be, he stared without shame.
She cleared her throat and planted the swinging foot on the floor. “Excuse me!”
Ransom blinked, jerked his eyes to meet hers, and dropped his jaw. “I’m so sorry. I—”
“I would think that a seasoned Pinkerton agent, such as yourself, would have more confidence in his boss. Mr. Gordon deemed me worthy, the Governor of Colorado Territory deemed me worthy, but you! You think just because you don’t know me well enough to know what caused me to… pass out.” Her eyelashes dipped toward the floor, a moment’s remorse washed across her face, then vanished as she straightened her shoulders with a heavy sigh and lifted her chin a notch. He rather enjoyed witnessing her steeling herself.
“I am certainly as worthy as you to be a Pinkerton. I have skills that you will come to appreciate. My momentary collapse was a one-time thing and will never happen again, I assure you.” Her jaw muscle bulged and smoothed.
Ransom watched the seething anger course through her taut frame. He smiled. “Alright, Mrs. Williams. We’ll proceed. But mark my word, if I see the slightest sign that you cannot handle this work, I’m going straight to Gordon and having you released from employment. A weak partner can get an agent killed. I don’t want to get killed! And I don’t want to—to be preoccupied, with you fainting, and I’ve gotta catch you… and… and I can’t even do my job because our cover gets blown, cause you fell down—”
“What are you going on about?”
Her glare burned a hole in him, branding his heart with a sensation he’d never encountered. Good God, she was gorgeous. Anger only seemed to enhance her incredible beauty. His tongue had tied into knots and his words were all jumbled in his head. She had this effect on him, but why? “See! That!”
“What?”
“That, right there. You…” He jammed his fingers into his hair. Get a grip, man! “You make me crazy. I can’t have you for a partner. It’s not right. Women should not be Pinkerton agents. It—it complicates things too much!”
“Wait!” All at once she stood. He went silent with her sudden movement. “This has nothing to do with my ability to be a good detective, or to solve a case. It’s you! You are the weak one. You can’t handle being in a lady’s presence without turning all…” —she gestured to the length of him— “whatever this is you’re doing. That’s not my fault. Either you grow up and teach me the ins and outs to being a Pinkerton operative, or I’ll go back to Mr. Gordon, myself, and demand a new partner.”
Ransom stood. The distance between them disappeared in two giant steps. He pulled her into his arms and drew her face close to his. The warmth of her skin seared his, causing his chest to tighten. He pressed his lips against hers, kissing her soundly. She stiffened in his arms, but didn’t pull away. Her mouth softened and she kissed him back. Passion exploded between them.
They were married, after all. Ransom had the right to take her to his bed, right this minute.
No! He forced himself to step back. They both heaved for air. Dazed and confused, they mirrored each ot
her’s emotions. “Name only,” he uttered.
“Wh-what?” She touched her swollen red lips.
“We are married in name only.”
“Right.” She nodded, searching the ground as if something had fallen.
Panting, he blinked hard. “Look. I-I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. Let’s just… just calm down and figure this out. We’ve been given a case, and I’ve never turned down an assignment yet. I don’t plan on—let’s just figure out where to start.”
She stared at him a long moment. “Well… I could eat.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Tucked in a quiet booth of a nearby restaurant, Laurel focused on the menu in hand. Silhouettes of swans on a tranquil, reed-filled pond were etched on a paneled glass divider that lent privacy to each patron’s dining. Making eye contact with Mr. Williams set her heart to pounding out of control. Thank God she had the menu to center her attention. She had never in her life not been able to control her breathing and heartbeat. Even with her ear against a safe and the threat of getting caught imminent, she had been able to calm her mind and focus on the task at hand. But there was something very different about this Pinkerton operative. She couldn’t explain why he alone interfered with her ability to manage her own reactions.
His impromptu kiss had surprised her. It came from nowhere. One minute she was defending herself against his accusations that she drove him crazy just because she was a woman, and the next, he wrapped her in his arms and kissed her with so much passion her trained temperance turned to mush. It was obscene, and yet, she wanted more. They were married after all. Kissing was not improper between two people who were married. Even if it were a marriage of convenience, wouldn’t one be expected to have some affection for the other?
She slapped her menu closed and flopped it down on the table, not having read a single word. This was ridiculous! Closing her eyes, she drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. When she opened her eyes, Mr. Williams was fixated on her. How long had he been watching her? His lips parted and that one crooked tooth peeked out. “So… you’ve decided?”
Decided? Did he know what she had been thinking? Heat filled her face. That was nonsense, he couldn’t read her mind. But what did he mean? Had she decided? About this charade? Or whether to tell him the truth about her and her father’s true identities? Whether to commit to being a Pinkerton operative trainee and never let what happened between them happen again? A ribbon of remorse slithered through her insides. She rather wished she were free to allow him to kiss her again.
But that was not why she signed up to be a Pinkerton!
Freedom! That was the whole reason she had agreed to her father’s outlandish plan of infiltrating the Pinkerton Agency, then find a way to use her position with the company to escape her father’s sovereignty. Never, in a thousand years did she anticipate that she’d have these emotions to deal with. Or that she’d be assigned to the very case she was trying to escape. This Mr. Ransom Williams was supposed to be her ticket, her means for escape, not a direct entanglement into a web of emotions and feelings. She had to get control of her head and her heart. No man, no matter how handsome or intriguing, was worth her losing an opportunity like this. Her liberty was too important.
She dropped her eyes to the closed menu under her hands. “I’m hungry, and this is a very nice restaurant, but…”
“But what?” Mr. Williams dipped his head leveling his eyes with hers. “Maybe we need to talk about what happened… back at my apartment.”
Heat blazed her cheeks. The desire to cover her vulnerability with her hands consumed her, but she resisted. “Yes, I think we should.”
He jerked a quick nod and seemed to fade into retrospect with a hard swallow that made his Adam’s apple bob at his throat. It gave him a sort of boyish charm she liked very much. His lips parted. “To be fair, you need to know… you didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Wrong? Why would I think I had done anything wrong? It was you who accosted me!”
“Accosted!” He glanced around and dropped his voice to a whisper. “We are married. Kissing my wife is not accosting her.”
She met his angry whisper with her own. “We are married for a reason other than—romance, Mr. Williams.”
He glared at her. “I know. This whole idea is ridiculous. Women don’t belong in this line of work. Archie and Marianne have lost their minds—”
“Nobody has lost their minds, except you, perhaps. Your very own Kate Warne proved a long time ago that women can be very helpful in obtaining information in areas men cannot possibly—”
“You’re right.”
Surprise rendered Laurel’s tongue useless. She stared at him blankly blinking. “What?”
“You’re right. Kate Warne and several other women were very successful agents. But what happened back at the apartment is evidence that it does complicate things to have a woman as a partner.” His hand instinctively burrowed into his hair. “I apologize. It will never happen again.”
Disappointment flooded Laurel’s heart. “Well… alright then. Now that we have that settled, I suppose we should discuss our case.”
“Yes, we should, but not here.” He glanced around the restaurant. “As a Pinkerton agent you must keep in mind that public places have ears.” He considered the silhouetted head through the etched glass behind her and lowered his voice even more. “Important matters such as any assignment must be discussed in a very private and safe place.”
“Like your apartment?” She glared at him. That had already been proven to not be so safe a place to discuss anything.
“Yes, or the office.”
“So, you’re saying, we need to go all the way back to the Pinkerton Mansion, just to go over our dossier and make some decisions on how to proceed, because you can’t control your urge… to kiss me?” A smile quivered at the corner of her mouth.
The patron behind her coughed. Laurel lifted her eyes, listening, but not focusing on anything in particular. Mr. Williams darted his eyes from her to a spot just past her head. Williams returned his attention to her. “No, of course not. I said it will never happen again, and I meant it. Let’s order dinner and go back to the apartment. I’ll make some coffee and we’ll discuss the case.”
“How are you planning to make coffee? Boil it in that… pan?”
“Oh, yeah, that’s probably not such a good idea. Well… after we eat, we’ll go to the mercantile and buy some supplies.”
“That’s the smartest thing you’ve said all day.” She hid her smile behind the menu. Hungry growls emanated from her midsection. She really did need to eat. Perusing the menu again, only this time acknowledging what she read, she made a decision. “I’ll have the veal.”
He tilted his head. “That sounds good. I think I’ll have the same.”
He waved the waiter over. “My good man, my apologies for making you wait for us. We will have the veal.” He glanced up from his menu to smile at the waiter. “We’ll start with the soup du jour, then the veal and roasted potatoes with red peppers, and for dessert…” he glanced at Laurel, “I think the mixed sorbet will do nicely.”
“Very good choice, sir.” The waiter gave a slight bow and took both menus. As he turned, another waiter crossed behind him with a tray full of water glasses. The two collided and the glasses and cold liquid cascaded over Williams’ head and shoulders. Both waiters leapt to their feet, apologizing, and grabbing at the debris. The one who had taken their order pulled out a white towel and began wiping Williams’ shoulders. He yanked the towel from the waiter as he stood. “Good Lord, man. Let me have that.” Turning to Laurel he paused. “I’ll be right back.”
He stormed away to attend to his dampened suit.
“Laurel!” A hiss came from the next booth.
She rolled her eyes with a sigh. “Father.”
“Since when do you eat veal?” Laurel’s father whispered.
“What are you doing here?” She leaned out to look at him. He slid from his booth an
d whipped around to hers, forcing her to move deeper into the bench seat. “I’m protecting my assets.” He glanced around the restaurant. “Have you learned anything about where Tabor has hidden the artifact?”
She searched the path that Ransom had taken. With no sight of him, she turned her gaze to her father. “No! I’ve barely just met my partner. We haven’t even discussed our first… case.” She scanned the path again. Did her father know which case she’d been assigned? Surely not. “Please tell me you are not going to follow us all over town until I give you that information? This doesn’t work that way!”
“No, apparently not.” His eyebrows bounced above his dark eyes.
She cocked her head back on her shoulders. “What do you mean?”
“It seems I overheard something about you being accosted.”
She gasped. “Father! How dare you! Go away!” Her eyes flitted to the path and back to her father’s anxious face. “Get away from me right now! You’re going to ruin everything. How can I do my job with you hovering around, interfering, and—” she closed her eyes and steadied her breathing. “I will report to you the minute I learn anything pertinent to your plans.”
“Fine. I’ll leave. But you need to know something.”
Laurel heaved a sigh. “What?”
“The police are focusing their efforts on finding the Ghost Thief.” A slight chuckle escaped with his words. “They are devising a plan to ask several of the elitists to give their assistance by offering something of value as bait.”
“Bait!” Laurel stared at her father’s whimsical eyes. “And you’re hoping Tabor will offer his artifact?”
