“Got it. Now tell me about your mother. She was on Broadway? No wonder you can sing. What shows? I’ve seen most of them.”
“Name a musical, and I bet she was in the chorus. Let’s get out of here.” Rick kissed her again, but on the cheek instead of her mouth. “Your Pinkerton man is here,” he whispered.
She turned, Rick’s arm still around her. “Daniel.” She stepped away from Rick. “Did you enjoy the show?”
Rick grabbed a hat off the shelf near the stage entrance, clapped it atop his head, and cut a hasty path toward the back door. “See you in the dining room, sweetheart.”
Daniel glared at Rick’s disappearing frame. “I thought I’d walk ye to the hotel, unless yer cousin intends to escort ye.” The late fall wind whipped around the door as Rick exited, slamming it behind him. “I guess not.”
“Rick thoroughly enjoyed himself tonight,” she said with a flip of her wrist. “His exuberance is carrying him away.”
“I’ve seen stage performances in London, Paris, New York City, Chicago, San Francisco, and ye and yer cousins could perform in any of those cities to a sellout crowd. Ye’re immensely talented. Why are ye here when ye could be in Paris?”
“Because tonight this is where I want to be.” She’d never wanted to sing or play professionally. She enjoyed what she did and wasn’t looking for more.
The shadowed light from the gas lantern threw Daniel’s profile into sharp relief, much as it had the night before, and once again she was struck by an even stranger flutter in her belly.
He turned his full attention to her, away from the echo of the slamming door, his dark blue eyes sober. “And tomorrow night…where will ye want to be?”
“Right here.” A heated flush climbed up her neck to her cheeks, and she turned toward her dressing room. “I need to change.” She could banter with Rick, let him kiss her on the mouth, but her belly didn’t flutter. Why did she have to be attracted to a man from the nineteenth century? A relationship with Daniel would lead straight to the heartbreak hotel. She couldn’t do that to herself, to Daniel, and certainly not to Noah, who desperately wanted a mother. Mrs. Garland was trying to fill that void for him, but because of his love for his dad, the void could never be filled for Noah until new love healed Daniel’s heart.
“I’ll wait out here,” he said.
Which was where he should have stayed, but instead she invited him in. Daniel closed the dressing room door, and she disappeared behind the changing screen. “Tell me the truth. Did you enjoy the show?”
“As I said, ye’re immensely talented, and as ye haven’t answered, I’ll ask again.” And he did, in a dangerously soft voice. “Why are ye here when ye could be on a stage anywhere in the world?”
She walked out from behind the screen and turned her back to him. “Can you take your Pinkerton hat off and put your theatre critic hat on instead? I want to know what you thought of the show, and I’d also like help with the buttons.”
“I’ll help ye if ye’ll answer my questions.”
“Unbutton me and I’ll tell you.” His warm fingers brushed across her skin as he unbuttoned the satin buttons. If goose bumps had a color, there wouldn’t be a square inch of flesh tone visible on her shoulders or neck. She slipped behind the screen again. “I hunt fossils. That’s what I love. I play the guitar and sing. That’s what I enjoy doing when I’m not digging up bones or representing ten-year-old boys who’ve lost their drums.”
“Ye entertained hundreds of patrons tonight who spent most of the performance on their feet singing with ye and throwing money on the stage.”
“Men were on their feet because Rick’s extraordinary voice lifted them with songs that reminded them of home. Women were on their feet because David’s passionate saxophone whispered in their ear like a lover’s caress. If it had been just me—”
“I would have spent the entire evening on mine.”
She sank into herself. The pain and longing in his voice was heart-wrenching. She wrapped her arms around herself, afraid if she didn’t, she would rush from behind the screen and embrace him and his wounded heart.
“I don’t think Kenzie ever sat down.” Amber cringed, hoping she wasn’t making light of his feelings. She hung Mrs. Garland’s dress on a wall hook. Then she slipped on a dark wine-colored silk brocade gown decorated with red glass beads that she’d purchased that afternoon at an emporium near the theatre. The gown was more appropriate for the evening, and the buttons were on the front. She didn’t have to risk the brush of Daniel’s warm fingers on her skin.
“I don’t think Noah ever sat down either,” she said.
“Did ye enjoy it?” Daniel asked.
She stepped out from behind the screen again and gathered up her cape, fan, and gloves. “I enjoyed it. I always do, but not enough to give up searching for dinosaurs. I know that doesn’t make sense to you. I love to perform. Don’t get me wrong. But it doesn’t compare to my real passion.”
His eyes moved over her in more than a friendly assessment. “Fossil hunting?”
“I’m going to Morrison as soon as I fulfill my contractual obligations to Mr. Tabor. That’s where a Stegosaurus was found recently.”
“Are ye coming back to Leadville?”
Her throat seemed to have gone dry, but she couldn’t lie to him, not when telling him the truth would save them both heartache in the end. “Probably not.”
His eyes flashed briefly before going dull. “I’ve got to go to Denver next week for the railroad. I’ll take ye. I can stay three or four days in case ye change yer mind and want to come back.”
“I should tell you that David and Kenzie are leaving tomorrow, and Rick is staying behind. They believe I need a bodyguard.”
“I agree wholeheartedly,” Daniel said. “And I told that to the McBains. Ye arrived in Leadville wearing men’s trousers, no luggage, and not a penny to yer name. Ye need protection. However, I’d trust Mrs. McBain with yer care before I’d trust Mr. O’Grady.”
Amber folded her arms across the bodice of the gown as she tried to corral her rising anger. The matching opera gloves dangled from one hand, the fan from the other. The silk of the bodice felt cool and smooth against her bare wrists, but the coolness didn’t lower her temperature.
“If I’d been wearing something like this”—she spread her hands and gave a slight bow as if on stage—“I never would have made it across the street in time to save Noah. You should be glad I was wearing trousers.” For the second time that evening, she snapped open her fan and waved it dramatically below her chin.
“Now, if you’re through telling me what I should and shouldn’t do, I’m going out to dinner. I’m famished.” She whipped the velvet cape about her shoulders and whirled out of the room, making it almost to the exit before she stopped, turned around, and returned to the dressing room. “So much for dramatic exits. I almost forgot my guitar.”
Daniel had lit his clay pipe and was drawing reflectively upon it now, following the smoke as it drifted up to the tin-paneled ceiling. “The stagehand returned the instrument to its case and left it next to the chair ye were using on stage. He also left this.” Daniel put a small canvas bag in her hand. “Money from yer fans.”
“How did you know that? About my guitar, I mean.”
“I’m paid to notice, Miss Kelly. And ye left yer reticule on the table there.” He pointed behind her. “When ye’ve gathered all yer belongings, I’ll escort ye next door.” From a vase of flowers on her dressing table, he broke off a yellow carnation and weaved the bud into her hair, his eyes fixed softly on her face. “I’m glad ye were wearing trousers, but ye’re too beautiful to hide in men’s clothing.”
The spicy peppery scent of the flower mingled with the sweet tobacco in his pipe and the combined scents had a hallucinatory effect on her. She could see him in her kitchen back home, leaning against the counter, his ankles crossed, a glass of wine in his hand. She saw spots and put her hand to her forehead as the room began to spin.
“I’m going to faint…”
When she opened her eyes again, she was reclining on the sofa with Daniel’s hand clasped around hers. “What happened?”
“Ye fainted.”
She made a move to sit, but he pressed down on her shoulder. “Don’t get up yet, lass.”
“I’ve never fainted.”
“Ye have now.”
“What’s that smell? Vinegar? Smelling salts?”
He held up a small, silver hinged box. “This trinket is a vinaigrette. Have ye never seen one?”
“No.”
“It masks foul odors, assists fainting women…”
“Sort of like a Swiss army knife. It does everything,” she said.
He slid a sideways glance at her, and the gas sconces caught the silver-gold brocade threads in his waistcoat and gleamed off the penny-colored highlights in his carefully styled blond hair. “I haven’t heard of that.”
“It’s like your trinket. It comes with a tag line: When you’ve painted yourself into a corner, improvise. Now, help me up. We need to go, or McBain will send the cavalry. And I don’t want anyone else to know I fainted.”
“Why?” His tone was as intimate as a caress, a brush of his hand across her cheek.
“Because they’ll postpone their departure and they need to go. So…” She put her finger to her lips. “Don’t tell them.” He helped her stand but didn’t let go of her arm. “My footing is solid. You can let go now.”
“Are ye sure?”
No, she wasn’t sure about anything, especially about Daniel. “I fainted because I’m hungry. As soon as I get something to eat, I’ll be good as new.”
“Then I won’t let go until ye get food in yer stomach.”
His impenetrable gaze fixed on her, ambling there for a moment. If he kept looking at her like she was his next meal, she’d become overheated in the small room, and probably would faint again. The episode alarmed her only because her recent breathing issues seemed to be getting worse. Only Rick seemed to notice when her breath gave out during the performance. Each time she became winded, he picked up the slack and sang louder or moved about the stage to draw attention away from her. What a great partner.
When she returned home, she’d make an appointment with her internist for the checkup she’d rescheduled three times in the past month. Until then, she’d stay hydrated and out of small rooms with sexy Pinkerton agents.
20
1878 Leadville, Colorado—Kenzie
Following the show, David and Kenzie entered the lobby of the Clarendon Hotel next door to the Tabor Opera House. She flipped back the hood of her cloak, freeing her face of the soft anonymous folds and looped her hand into the crook of David’s elbow. Subdued light rippled across the lobby’s spacious interior with its carved columns, globed chandeliers, and arched doors. The room was all abuzz with theatre patrons dressed in evening finery.
“Oh, Mr. McBain,” a woman’s shrill voice called out as she made her way across the lobby, her playbill flapping in the air like the angling wings of a seabird.
David zigzagged to avoid her. “Keep walking.” He slid his hand to Kenzie’s back, encouraging her toward the dining room at a faster pace.
“Not even you, McBain, can stand off a passel of petticoats. You might as well surrender,” Kenzie said, laughing.
The woman rounded a marble column and intercepted David before he reached the dining room. “Mr. McBain, will you autograph these playbills? I intend to tell all my friends they have to come to your next show.” A small pencil was produced from a beaded handbag. “I never knew a saxophone could produce the sound you played tonight.”
“What’d you like best about the show?” Kenzie asked.
The woman drew Kenzie’s arm into hers, as if they were the best of friends. “I never knew the saxophone could sound so…so emotive. I was moved to tears.”
Kenzie disentangled herself from the woman and said nonchalantly, “The sound is pure sex on the airwaves.”
There was no mistaking the sudden jump of the woman’s eyebrows, although the rest of her face remained composed. David made a sound deep in his throat. Unfazed, the woman continued, “Mr. O’Grady’s voice was simply divine, and Miss Kelly’s talent is extraordinary. The entire performance was better than any I’ve seen in New York or Chicago.” The woman shifted to see around the column. “I’ve been waiting for Miss Kelly and Mr. O’Grady, too. Do you know if they’re on their way?”
“Mr. O’Grady might already be here.” Kenzie craned her neck to get a better view of the lobby. “I don’t see him. He might be in the restaurant. Miss Kelly is protected by a Pinkerton escort, so she’ll be detained until the agent is sure she’ll be safe.”
The woman’s face no longer remained composed, and her gloved fingers touched her parted lips. “I didn’t know she was that famous. Now I know why. Not only is she talented and beautiful, but her voice is evocative and flawless.”
“You sound like a music critic,” Kenzie said.
The woman fanned herself with one of the signed playbills. “My husband is the music critic for The Reveille. I often give him my opinion.”
Kenzie leaned in, as if conveying a secret. “Miss Kelly is a sellout at every performance.” Kenzie wasn’t one for dissembling, but she couldn’t pass up the opportunity to promote Amber’s show. “Mr. Tabor was fortunate she was in town on a personal matter and had an opening in her calendar. She’s booked a year in advance.”
The woman clenched her autographed playbills to her breast. “I’m sending my husband to the theatre early tomorrow to purchase tickets for the next show.”
If Kenzie didn’t know David so well, she would have missed the slight shift of his shoulders. Enough with the fan interaction. He was ready to hit the bar. “Please excuse us,” she said. “Maybe we’ll see you at the next performance.”
As the woman scurried away in a rustle of skirts, he glanced around as if concerned someone would overhear what he was about to say. Then to Kenzie, he said bluntly, “There won’t be another performance and if ye tell anyone what just happened, ye won’t like what I do.”
She waved jazz hands. “Ooh. I’m so scared.”
“Ye should be. I saw ye squirming in yer chair while I was on stage. If ye want me to scratch that itch tonight, ye’ll keep quiet.” The tone vibrating beneath his thinly veiled innuendo lowered seductively.
She removed one of her opera gloves, tugging purposefully on each finger. “Are you threatening me?”
He gave her a look that answered her question. “It’s up to ye.”
Occasionally, when dealing with McBain, she had to backpedal and come at him from another direction. This was important, but why? And pulling the true reason out of him would be like deconstructing a jigsaw puzzle one piece at a time—a layered process—instead of simply dumping the whole thing on the floor.
She pulled the glove off her other hand. “I get that this is important to you, but I don’t understand why?”
He looked off for a moment and then returned his gaze to her. “The family doesn’t see me as an entertainer. They know I’m a soldier.” He rubbed his hands up and down her arms, sending erotic chills through her. “This crowd sees me as a performer.”
She placed her hands over his to stop his roving fingers from distracting her. “Just to zoom out on this so I understand. Why do you care? We’re leaving here. If it upsets you so much, why’d you agree to perform?”
“I didn’t know it would. Turns out I was wrong.”
“Wrong? You?” She shook her head. “I don’t buy it. There’s something else.”
He shrugged. “Let it go. I need a drink.”
Stalling, she brushed the skirt of her narrow, pale green velvet dress with the back of her hand, letting the warm fabric soothe her skin, but it didn’t have the same effect on her mind. David was being evasive. Why? The diamond in her ring caught on a section of the fringe and she shook her hand to release the hold. While the diamond maintained its grip
on the fringe, her brain sorted through the inconsistencies until the proverbial light bulb flashed in a tiny explosion of insight.
“It’s Daniel, isn’t it? His opinion matters to you. If you think he’ll only see you as a performer, that’s crazy. So what’s really going on?”
David pulled a silver cigar case from his pocket, selected one, then closed the case with a click. “Ye’re the puzzle solver.” He pinched the cigar between his thumb and index finger, working the entire length. Then he passed the cigar beneath his nose, taking in the aroma. A match flared, and he puffed until the end of the cigar flared with fire and began to burn. The process was an erotic dance Kenzie had watched him perform hundreds of times.
“Let’s see what I know,” she said. “You believe Amber will bring Daniel to the future.”
David hiked his foot against the lower rail of an untended lobby bar. “Go on.”
“If Daniel comes to the twenty-first century, he won’t understand at first why a saxophone player is the quasi-leader of the family. But all he’ll have to do is attend one meeting and he’ll see that everyone defers to you.”
David drew a short draw, then removed the cigar from his mouth and studied it while smoke curled out into the room. He was trying for an impression of indifference, but she clearly saw through the smoke rings.
“This doesn’t have anything to do with you performing tonight.”
She watched his body language closely. His relaxed stance conflicted with the intensity in his eyes. When he was solving a problem, he needed a gut check to be sure his analyses and decisions were leading him in the right direction, and in the last few years, he had come to depend on her to do that. They were, as Elliott had said, a double-edged sword. But first, she had to identify the corner and flat-sided pieces of the puzzle.
“It’s not because he’s a Scotsman, either. Braham and Cullen are Scotsmen. They’ve never been a threat to you.”
David rolled the tip of the cigar along the edge of an ashtray on the bar. His face now had an unreadable expression like a serious player in a high-stakes game of chance, and she knew intuitively that she was wrong about Braham and Cullen. One or both had been a threat to David, but when?
The Amber Brooch: Time Travel Romance (The Celtic Brooch Book 8) Page 24
