He gave up the argument. He was possessive. He didn’t want men ogling Venice. He was too straightlaced, too proprietal, and too old-fashioned. His mother would be proud.
He looked around for something else to occupy his attention. Seeing a folded newspaper on a table, he snatched it up and read. It was Venice’s obituary two entire columns of copy, nearly half a page.
Old Tim had had a field day with the Venice Leiland legend, all right. It was the rankest collection of half-truths, sentimental slop, and occasional gleanings of honest feeling Noble had ever read. Angrily, he tossed it away.
“The hypocritical son-of-a—”
“Don’t be too hard on him.” Venice stood up, having finished trying the dainty little bow at the top of her stockings. “Tim was simply doing his job.”
How could she be so understanding? She must be so accustomed to being judged and used. It made the muscles in his biceps bunch in a painfully familiar way.
He took a deep breath. “Yup, Tim went all the way, the whole ‘scatterbrained heiress in search of a party’ thing . . . like I did.”
Venice paused in the middle of lacing her soft kid boots. She didn’t lift her head, but he heard her words clearly.
“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Noble. Now or ever.”
But Noble vowed that there wouldn’t be any unspoken questions shadowing their future.
“Yes, Venice,” he said. “I do.”
She sat back on the bed and folded her hands in her lap, regarding him with clear, gray eyes.
“When I saw you, for the first time after all those years, you were more beautiful then I had imagined a woman could be. And then, later, I found out it was you who’d lured me to her window and it seemed to confirm what I’d spent ten years telling myself, that you had become a thrill-seeking, indiscriminate coquette.”
“I know,” Venice said. “I sort of liked it.”
Noble raked his fingers through his hair. She would forever keep him off balance. “Whatever for?”
“It was sort of novel to be accused of something I’d actually done. And I really had whistled at you.” She was serious. She leaned forward, her voice earnest. “You reacted to me like any stiff-necked, proud man might react to any forward woman. Being with you has always been so easy; easy as breathing, natural as a heartbeat. Even flirting with you comes naturally.”
“God, Venice.” Noble lifted his hands.
“There, you know the horrible truth. I’d rather be correctly accused of being a tease than unjustly accused of wearing human bones.” She laughed.
“Venice,” Noble said, his voice strained and urgent. “I loved you when you were just a kid. How was I supposed to keep from loving you as a woman? You’re passionate, intelligent, and so damn valiant. I still can’t believe what you did for me in the mountains. How was I to protect myself against you? You’re everything I’ve wanted: friend, lover, even opponent.”
“I know,” she said softly
“I shouldn’t ask you to choose between your father and the foundation and me. Your father and I, well, we aren’t ever going to be friends. I thought I’d be honorable and chivalrous by walking away. But that was just an excuse. The real reason I wanted to walk away was because I didn’t think I was good enough for you.”
“Noble, I never thought that.”
“I know, but I did. I thought maybe your father was right, I wasn’t worth the trouble. I was scared, Venice, a plain old run-of-the-mill coward.” He lifted his hands, palms out at his side. The gesture mirrored the simple honesty of his words, exposing him, putting his heart clearly in her hands. No one had ever trusted her so completely.
“I was a coward like you’re being.” There, he’d said it.
“I can’t keep away from you either,” Venice said softly. He took an involuntary step toward her and stopped.
“You gotta understand, though. I can’t let you be a coward. There’s more to think of now than just ourselves.”
“Huh?” she asked, puzzled.
He started pacing around the room, poking a finger in a jar of powder, shoving his fists into his trouser pockets, taking them out, raking a hand through his hair. He was nervous.
“Yeah. You have to marry me now. You haven’t any choice.”
“Have to? No choice?” she parroted.
“Yeah.” He stopped in the middle of the room, pressing his lips together and nodding emphatically “Yup.” He looked her directly in the eye. “You’re pregnant.”
“What?”
He nodded again, lips set. “That’s right. I hate to break it like this, but it’s true. Well, it’s most likely true.”
She stared at him.
“I know. You’re shocked. But we just have to look at it as God’s way of making His will known. It’s going to be for the best. Really”
“And how,” she asked, “were you able to determine my interesting condition?”
“You don’t have to sound so angry.” Noble frowned. “I admit, I don’t have a lot of experience with women.”
Again her betraying heart gave that odd little flip-flop that bespoke approval.
“But I know a helluva—I mean, a great deal more about reproduction than a virginal young girl from the Upper East Side of New York City,” he pronounced, and added under his breath so that she could barely hear, “I hope.
“And I know that when you make love twice in the same week, the woman gets pregnant. Almost always.”
“I see,” Venice said blandly.
He flashed his most charming smile. She almost returned it. He shrugged, lifting his hands in a gesture of defeat. He didn’t look unhappy in the least.
“What can I say?” he asked. “That’s that. We gotta get married. We should do it now. Today. Before all these people—like that Katie woman—get hold of you and tell you . . . er . . . to occupy your time. The spur line’s in town. We could take the train to Denver and be married before midnight. Okay.” He clapped his hand on his leg. “Let’s go.”
“I have something to say first.”
“Sure. Shoot.”
“I believe the exact words are: Though I might not be an expert regarding the ways of a man and a woman, I sure as hell know enough about female anatomy to know that making love twice in a week does not necessarily result in a baby. And that you definitely wouldn’t be able to tell if I were pregnant so soon. I was a virgin, Noble, not an idiot.”
“Oh.”
“Yes.”
“Damn. Well, you could be pregnant.”
She shook her head. “I could be, but I am very, very doubtful about the possibility. The, er, timing is all off.”
“Damn.”
“Would you kindly stop using that language?”
“Sorry.”
“Besides, I am not ready for motherhood yet. Not for a long time.”
He crossed the room to her and sank down on his knees beside her, grasping her shoulders in a hard grip and turning her to face him. “Venice, when you are ready for motherhood, I’m the one who should be the father. I’m the only one.”
She touched his cheek in a tender gesture. “I know.”
He went utterly still. “What do you mean?”
“You were right about one thing. I was a coward. I don’t want to be a coward anymore. I want you.” She stood up. “What you said back there at the spring—I haven’t been able to think of anything else. You’re right. I have been hiding behind the Leiland Foundation, using it as an excuse. It was a pretty good one, too.” She smiled. “All the power I could wield, all the potential good I could do, if only I could prove myself to my father. But I’m not ever going to be good enough for him, am I?”
Noble gave a small, sad shake of his head.
“And if I want to do something worthwhile, I don’t need to be the richest woman in America to do it. You illustrate that point rather well. Don’t protest, you do. So where does that leave me?”
“You tell me.” His voice was tense, urgent.
“It leaves me worrying about whether we would end up like my parents. I wanted to believe that we would. I even tried to convince myself, citing the similarities.”
“Why?” Noble asked, frowning.
“It was safe to believe that. It was comfortable in a weird way. I didn’t need to wonder what the future held, I already knew. I didn’t have to take any chances.”
“Venice, we aren’t like your parents.”
“I know,” she said softly. “We love each other. I’m not sure my parents ever did.”
“What changed your mind?”
“It was when you said no one was promised tomorrow, that we might die next week. I thought about how close I had come to losing you in that flash flood. It overwhelmed me.
She went on. “I had always thought of you being there. Somewhere, even if I wasn’t with you. As long as you and I were alive, there was the possibility of our love finding a way. But you made me see that it’s no good knowing you’re out there somewhere if I never have the courage to do something about it. I don’t want to be a coward anymore.”
“You’re sure?” Noble said grimly.
She laughed. “This from the man who was just trying to hoodwink me into matrimony?”
“I’d do anything for your love.”
“As would I,” Venice replied, her breath taken away by the sincerity of his expression.
“Even marry me?”
“Yes. Even marry you.”
Noble didn’t twitch a muscle, but a smile was shaping up in his golden eyes. “Trevor’s gonna be furious.”
“And I’ll be sorry he’s furious. But nothing else.”
If he kept looking into her silver eyes, they were not going to get out of this room anytime soon, thought Noble. She was moving toward him, the sway of her hips making the deep ruffles flutter as she walked. The rise and fall of her breasts shivered the delicate tatting on the very edges of her camisole. The fabric was so sheer he could see a dark bloom of rose at the tips of her breasts.
He cleared his throat and cast about for something to keep his mind off her body, the scent of pine and flowers teasing his nostrils.
“Well, Salvage is going to want another party,” he said.
“Yes, our wedding party.”
“Yes. Well.”
She recognized the hint of uncertainty in his voice, the struggle not to get carried away, the battle he fought pitting his desire against what he saw as her welfare. Even if it meant denying himself. He would have to learn that she didn’t need protection. She needed him.
Close to him now—bold, adventurous coquette that she was—she reached up and encircled his neck, dimpling at him.
“You know, Noble, I’ve always loved you.”
“Loved?” Noble’s hands slid of their own volition to her trim waist, drawing her closer. His head bent to meet the invitation of her warm lips. She opened them slightly and he inhaled the sweet fragrance of her breath, lifted his callused hands to touch the sheen of her smooth, pale skin.
“Love. And I always will. Promise.”
“Venice—” he began, closing the few inches between their lips.
Abruptly, she twisted in his arms, turning her back to him, still within the circle of his embrace. She lifted the heavy length of her hair over her shoulder and glanced at him from beneath the dense fringe of her black lashes, fluttering them audaciously.
Noble bent forward, nuzzling the silky, fragrant hair on the nape of her neck, his mouth touching her throat gently, his hands finding the jut of her hip bones and clamping firmly, pulling her back, hard, against him.
“Please, would you tie my hair back up?” She asked in a throaty whisper.
Shameless hussy. Noble’s mouth curved upward, captivated by the roguish gleam in her eyes. He complied, lifting the black rope and twining it slowly into one thick coil. She leaned against him, tilting her head back onto his shoulder to expose the creamy column of her throat.
His fingers barely shook at all.
Lightly clasping her shoulders, he turned her around to face him.
She looked disappointed. He grinned.
“What? You didn’t think I could touch you without hauling you into my arms and having my wicked way with you?” he asked in amusement, his brogue husky, seductive.
The look she gave him was sultry, piquant, intoxicating. She splayed her hand wide against his chest. His heart hammered beneath her palm, racing nearly out of control.
“A girl can only hope . . .” she mourned softly.
Noble hauled her into his arms.
Epilogue
The public bar at the Gold Dust Emporium was overflowing with people waiting for a chance to get a glimpse of the resurrected Miss Leiland, so Noble sent a note requesting that Milton and Carter meet them at the Pay Dirt. Noble swung down from the balcony and caught Venice in a tight and prolonged embrace as she dropped into his arms from above.
The moon was rising in a velvet blanket of deepening blue. Streaks of brilliant, fantastical purple and rose limned the western range. Evening bird song drifted from the pine forest, a telling counterpoint to the din of human voices rising from Salvage’s fifteen saloons.
“Tonight,” Noble was saying as they made their way down the boardwalk.
“We can’t just present this to my Uncle Milton as a fait accompli,” Venice said.
“Tonight,” Noble insisted. “I have me immortal soul on the line here, Venice. I know you pagans don’t put much store in the hallowed state, but now that you’ve had your wicked way with me . . .”
Venice laughed. “Well, as long as it’s for a good cause.”
“Me immortal soul,” Noble said solemnly, picking up her hand and placing it over his heart. For a few seconds they simply stood, reading the love in each other’s eyes.
“All right.” Venice said softly. She was just bending forward to kiss him when she heard a familiar voice hail her.
“Miss Leiland!”
She turned to find Blaine Farley approaching her, his arm linked close to a supremely satisfied-looking Suzanne Gates.
“Why, Mr. Farley,” she said. “I didn’t realize you were in town.”
“Yeah,” Noble concurred sardonically. “I woulda thought you’d be one of the first people to greet Venice.”
Blaine’s mouth opened, but before he could speak Suzanne scooted in front of him, tugging his arm closer still as she said, “There’s only one woman that Blaine Parley’s gonna be greeting from now on and that’s me!”
“Really?” Venice asked interestedly.
“Yup. We’re getting married,” she said, and with that final bit of information she dragged a bewildered, but not unhappy-looking Blaine after her down the boardwalk.
Noble chuckled after the retreating pair and turned back to Venice.
“Now what?” she asked, a hint of excitement entering her voice. The world, hitherto an interesting place, had suddenly expanded into a rich and spectacular feast awaiting her pleasure.
He tilted her chin up. “There’s an expedition being planned along the Amazon that I’ve been asked to take part in. I am sure we will need someone to coordinate the provisions.”
“And you think I could do it?” Venice asked.
“As long as you don’t neglect your wardrobe,” he answered. “But those people will need to come up with some financing quickly if they’re to get the expedition under way before the coming rainy season.”
“I could back them,” Venice offered.
“With what money?” Noble asked sardonically. “Once Trevor hears about me he’ll more than likely disown you.”
Venice bit her lip. “Perhaps.”
“Does that bother you?”
“No.”
“What are you thinking about, then? You look like you’re plotting something.”
“I was wondering how I could convince Uncle Milton to make me his heir. Lavender soap is expensive.”
Noble shouted with laughter.
“Ar
e there any other alternatives to the Amazon expedition?” she asked.
“Well,” he said slowly, “I have been in touch with a gentleman regarding making an assessment of resources in a rather large section of unexplored land . . .”
“Really? Where?”
“Alaska.”
“You’re teasing me.”
“No. Mr. Seward has been badgering me to do an exploration of the southern coastline. I haven’t had the time so far.”
“Will you do it?”
“You mean will we do it?”
She nodded happily.
“If you think it sounds like fun.”
“Oh, I do,” she breathed.
Noble laughed. “Save your avowals for the priest later—”
“Tonight,” Venice finished for him and leaned against his arm. She was just in the process of pulling his handsome face down for another kiss, reveling in the fact that she could have kisses on demand, when a voice caught her attention.
“You!”
She looked up.
Cassius Thornton Reed stood fifty yards down the boardwalk. He was white-faced and bleary-eyed and wobbling. It was obvious he had just staggered through the still-swinging doors of one of the seedier saloons, and he was staring at Venice in absolute horror.
“They said you weren’t dead. I didn’t believe them. I still don’t. You’re a ghost!”
His bloodshot eyes flickered to Noble. “And you! You’re dead. I saw you go under after I kicked you off—”
Noble heard Venice growl. There was no other word for it. And then she was running down the walkway, her skirts flapping around her knees as she launched herself at Cassius, who was transfixed with dread, riveted by the sight of her.
Noble raced after her, managing to catch hold of her just before she reached Cassius. Lord, the woman could run! He swung an arm around her waist, scooped her up and held her tightly against his side. She struggled wildly in his embrace. Grunting, Noble shifted her weight so she dangled from the waist, arms and legs, windmilling wildly, mouth sputtering furiously.
“Let me down!” she cried. “Let—me—down! You heard what Crooked Hand said. He kicked you into the river—on purpose! He coulda killed you! Lemme go!”
Connie Brockway Page 32
