“I’m leaving early in the morning. I’ll try to come back in three or four days, but it depends on the situation I find in Caǹon City.” At the sound of a door closing somewhere in the house, he glanced down the hall then back at her. “I have a favor to ask.”
She tugged on his arm, pulling him inside the room. “Get in here before someone sees you. Mr. Robinson probably wouldn’t like me entertaining you in my room in the middle of the night. He’d kick me out, and I’d have to trod the boards every night to support myself.”
“I’m sure most theatres in Denver have already heard of ye and would offer ye a contract.”
That’s what she was afraid of. If anyone did a deep dive into her background they’d come up empty, which was probably already frustrating Daniel. “You’re asking for another favor? You want to know what I think of the last one? You made it all up. You said you were afraid of what Mr. Robinson might do in your absence. You tricked me, and I want to know why!”
There was a bite in her voice, but she didn’t care. Let him feel the marks of her teeth. When her clients resisted her advice, when her parents interfered in her life, when her sister drove her insane about her wardrobe or boyfriends, she could stomp down her feelings and keep an emotional distance. But with Daniel it didn’t work so well because of the lies standing sentry between them, lies she couldn’t do a damn thing about.
She pushed the door closed and moved toward the scrap of remaining heat in the fireplace, her beribboned robe whispering softly over the floorboard. She bent to tend to the fire.
“Let me do it.” He stepped in front of her, tossed two logs on the grate, and using the bellows, coaxed the dying embers to reluctant life. “I’m disappointed ye sent the doctor away. He saw Noah through a serious illness a couple of years ago. He’s a good doctor. He might know why ye fainted.”
“I was hot, dehydrated, and hungry.” Her voice took another bite out of him. “That’s…why I fainted.” Her hands tightened into fists. Her family knew never to discuss her health. It was a non-starter for any conversation. “This isn’t about me, Daniel. It’s about you. Why make up a story about a nice man who appears to be fond of you?”
Doubt and suspicion lingered in his face for a moment, then cleared. He put down the bellows and stepped over to the window, his fingers furrowing his hair. Using the back of his hand, he lifted the velvet drape lining one side of the window, holding back the thick fabric while he gazed out onto the quiet street. “Alec can be controlling, especially when Noah’s education and future are discussed.” Daniel turned to face her, letting the drapery fall back into place. “The lad is his only heir, and he has certain expectations.”
“But you’re his father. Alec can’t do anything without your permission.” He poured two snifters of brandy from a decanter and offered one to her. She accepted the glass. “I don’t have a dog in this fight. If Alec tries anything while you’re gone, other than send you a telegram, there isn’t much I can do.”
He sipped from his glass. “Then I’ll pay ye a retainer. Ye’ll be able to represent my interest.”
She held out her hand. “A nickel will take care of it.” Daniel reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a Liberty half dollar, placing the near-mint condition coin in her palm. The silver, warmed by his body heat, now warmed her chilled hand. There was an envelope in her journal. The coin would go there to remember this moment, to remember him.
“Since I’ve retained ye and ye’re now my legal representative, I’ll tell ye what I heard tonight. There’s a rumor Alec is moving to California.”
“Why would he invite Noah here and then leave?”
He stared at her, face impassive, gaze steady. “A new business opportunity.”
Light sprang from the flickering fire, wavering in bright swaths over the plaster walls, and the scent of smoke mixed with her curiosity and concern. “He wouldn’t run off with Noah, would he?”
“I don’t know.”
She sank onto the settee. The furniture was broad and deep and richly upholstered with embroidery over the wool cushions, arms, and the tall curving back, and smothered in elaborately patterned antimacassars crisscrossing the back and sofa arms. She wormed the tip of her finger into a hole of the crochet lace doily spread over the sofa’s arm.
“Nothing surprises me anymore,” she said, “but I’m having trouble reconciling the man I met earlier with what you’re telling me now.”
“Up close,” Daniel said, “it’s hard to really see a man, particularly if ye don’t know him well. Yer mind is free to imagine him any way ye wish.”
Was her opinion of Alec based solely on his warm reception? Yes, it was. And because of that, she could imagine him any way she wished. “I’ll stay for a while and watch out for Noah, but I can’t stay forever.” Amber picked at the doily where she’d stretched the yarn. “Whatever you do, don’t get killed on the job.”
“Would ye miss me?” He still had that smooth tone to his voice. But there was also a note of uncertainty in it. He kept his gaze fastened on her.
Locked in his gaze, she couldn’t move, her heart drumming so loudly she was certain he could hear it. “Noah would be devastated.”
“I didn’t ask about Noah. I asked about ye.”
“Yes, I would miss you.” She needed to redirect their conversation. What had they been talking about. Oh, about her staying for a while. “I need to tell Rick what’s going on.”
“I’d prefer ye keep this between us for now.”
“I can’t,” she said. “If he’s going to protect me, he has to know what’s happening. I wonder where he is now?”
“He was at the Denver Press Club and then the carriage driver dropped him off at the Palace Saloon and Theatre on 15th and Blake Streets.”
“He shouldn’t get into much trouble there.” She leaned forward, studying Daniel’s strained posture.
“It has upscale burlesque shows.” Daniel stooped and tossed another log on the fire. The firelight glowed on the handsome planes of his face. The wood snapped as the flames threw out unneeded heat. He straightened, rested his elbow on the mantel, and made more furrows in his thick hair.
“Spill it, Daniel. You can’t shock me. What’s going on?”
He poured another inch of brandy into her snifter and an equal measure into his own. He took his time, giving her the impression that he was gathering his thoughts before sharing what he was thinking. “I’m uncertain about Rick. Ye called him a fanboy. Said he had a bromance with Western heroes. I thought ye were implying—”
She covered her mouth to smother a laugh. “You think Rick is a homosexual?”
“What’s that?”
The term must not have made it into the popular lexicon of the day.
“A man with a sexual preference for other men, or a woman who prefers women. But I assure you, Rick is as straight as the street in front of this house. He’s not a sybarite either.”
“He’s not?”
She shook her head.
“Ye’re sure?”
She nodded. “If Alec is entertaining Rick it’s because he’s good company. And besides, I have pretty accurate radar, and it didn’t go off when I met Alec.”
“I don’t know that word either.”
“It’s when you sense something is wrong. It’s your gut feeling that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. That’s why I don’t think he’ll try anything.”
“Ye’re not feeling well. Yer…radar…could be—”
“Malfunctioning?”
“I speak Gaelic, French, and Italian, but some of yer words are new to me.”
“You can blame that on my…uncle. He’s a wordsmith and enjoys making up words. I forget they’re not part of the lexicon.” She squinted at him. “Do you know that word?”
His broad shoulders straightened, and his chest seemed to expand. If he’d had feathers, surely, they would have ruffled. “I’m not illiterate.”
“I didn’t mean to imply…” She wav
ed away the rest of her thought. “Look, let’s drill down and come up with a plan.”
“Okay, but first”—his navy-blue eyes zeroed in on hers—“I want ye to see the doctor tomorrow.”
“Absolutely not.”
Now, his eyes pinned her with a warning. “The circles under yer eyes are worse now than they were this morning, even though ye’ve slept more than half the day. I demand ye see him tomorrow.”
“Demand? You’re in no position to demand anything of me.”
“Do ye distrust doctors that much?”
“My grandmother trusted her doctor. She adored him. But he messed up, misdiagnosed her disease, and botched the surgery. She never left the hospital. I’ll have to be on my deathbed to take a doctor’s advice.”
The shock on his face was immediately swallowed by confusion. “But ye insisted Noah go to the doctor.”
“He had a physical injury a doctor could fix without screwing it up. I don’t want to rid the world of physicians. I just don’t need them.”
“Ye can’t blame the whole profession for the mistake of one.”
“Oh, yeah? I can,” she said pointing to herself. “I may not look it, but I feel much better. Another day of rest, and I’ll be ready to go fossil hunting. Don’t worry about me.” She used a lighter tone to change the subject. “By the way, how’d the meeting go?”
He set his glass on the table across from her and picked up Millie, who had been curled up on the opposite side of the sofa. His long fingers disappeared into the cat’s thick coat. He scratched her between her half-closed eyes.
Amber pointed toward the cushion the cat had vacated. “Have a seat.”
Daniel lowered himself onto the sofa. The cat settled into his lap and her paws swatted at his pocket watch chain.
“We have a plan in place,” he said, “men to carry it out, and a good chance I won’t be needed more than a few days. I hope to be back sooner than I thought.” He shifted to face her and rested one long arm along the back of the sofa. The tips of his fingers brushed her shoulder. “I worry about ye.” His tone dropped, becoming as intimate as a lover’s touch.
Millie butted his stilled hand, demanding Daniel resume petting her.
Amber, aware now that her hands were clenched, relaxed them and petted the cat, too. Her hand touched Daniel’s as they both ran their fingers through the smooth and sleek top coat of fur.
“Please don’t worry about me. You don’t need the distraction.”
The diffuse firelight accentuated the worry lines in his face, highlighted a golden streak in his blond hair, and emphasized the straightness of his nose. He toyed with a strand of her hair. “That’s impossible.” His eyes roved over her and his mouth twitched with the tiniest and briefest of smiles. “I find if I’m not worried about ye, I’m arguing with ye, or strategizing, or even humming along. Ye’re a woman of many talents.” He dropped a tendril of hair and picked up another one close to her ear, brushing her neck with the back of his hand.
She anchored her attention on him, careful not to move or blink or think beyond this moment. She was silent for a long time and so was he, seemingly content to listen to the crackling fire as sparks floated like fireflies into a darkened corner of the room. Millie wiggled on his lap and turned over to present a belly for him to rub. He obliged, and Amber thought how sweet it would be to have him rub her belly, and other places, too.
There was a powerful scent about him. If confidence in a two-thousand-dollar suit could be bottled, that’s how he smelled. Yet there was something else. A coniferous scent of fir needles and cedar wood. But it wasn’t the typical woodsy smell found in shaving lotions. This was the pure scent of manliness, and it tugged at her on a primal level. He was a man who made decisions and stuck by them; a man who defended those he loved; a man who fought for values and beliefs; a man with intellectual curiosity.
A shock of recognition blew through her. Those were the must-have boyfriend traits she’d listed in her first lock-and-key diary, long ago. In that moment, an uneasy possibility stole past her recognition and encamped in her mind; a possibility she couldn’t dislodge.
Could she stay in the past to be with him?
His eyes were softer, his face flushed. The tip of his tongue escaped briefly to touch his bottom lip. Daniel’s thumb slid over the line of her jaw, and he gazed at her, a visual caress. He nudged her chin up with his thumb.
Millie sensed something was about to happen and leapt off the sofa. Daniel gave Amber a moment to say the words that would stop him, or make a simple gesture that meant no, but she had no words, no signal. Her only coherent thought was how natural it seemed to slip into his arms and share a kiss.
His mouth came down slowly, tentative at first, then he kissed her full on the mouth. The first kiss slid easily into the next. His beard tickled her chin, and when their tongues touched, she tasted the fresh dried fruit and citrus zest of sweet brandy on his tongue that now moved against hers, tantalizing her mouth. His hands slid up her arms and cupped her nape, pulling her closer to him. She could hardly breathe from having him so close.
Then her breathing connected with her brain, alerting her with red-hot flares. It wasn’t his proximity exacerbating her breathing problem. Gasping, she pulled away from him, terrified. “I can’t breathe.” Fear made the condition worse. She cupped her hands to her mouth and fought for her next breath and the next.
Daniel pushed to his feet and swept her into his arms, cradling her there, and carried her to the bed where he loosened the sash at her waist. “Take slow breaths. Breathe in. Breathe out.” He put his head on her chest and listened to her heart.
She pushed him away. “Too heavy.” Her heart palpitated. Nothing like this had ever happened to her before, and it scared her. Not enough to trust a nineteenth-century doctor, and barely enough to trust one from her own century. It was sickness from the high-altitude with lower oxygen levels, it had to be. With time and rest, she’d get better.
“I want ye to see the doctor.”
“No. I have mountain sickness. It’ll go away.”
Daniel sat on the edge of the bed and placed his hand over hers, and then his entwined fingers tightened around her much smaller ones. “Yer heart is racing. Please…” There was more than concern in his voice. The tone bordered on fear, much like her own, but she refused to give into it.
She pressed her hand over his lips, and his breath warmed her skin. “I’ll see a doctor as soon as I go home. That’s the best I can do.”
“That’s not good enough.” He snagged a towel from the bar at the side of the wash basin cabinet and wiped sweat from her forehead before adding a pillow beneath her head to prop it up higher.
“Maybe not, but it’ll have to do. When you come back in a few days, I’ll be better. You’ll see.” She squirmed to get comfortable, but her robe was wrapped around her legs, restricting her movements. She freed a shoulder and arm from one side of the confining garment.
“Wait. I’ll do it.” He gently lifted her shoulders and pulled off the soft velvet robe, revealing the thin silky gown that lay in soft folds along her curves. His eyes roved the length of her. He made an odd noise from the back of his throat and mumbled something in a language she didn’t understand before jerking the covers up to her chin.
He stepped away from the bed, brushing cat hair from his lap, and revisited the decanter of brandy. Avoiding eye contact he said, “I’ll stay until ye fall asleep.”
“You need sleep, too.”
“I’ll leave shortly.” His voice, pitched low, hummed with intensity and promise.
He poured another drink, clinking the mouth of the decanter against the glass, as if his hand was shaking. The silence stretched between them. She placed her hand on her chest, feeling the beat of her heart beneath her spread fingers. The beat was now close to her warm-up biking heart rate. Still high but easing down.
Before Daniel turned his attention back to her, he placed another log on the fire and stoked the embers bene
ath. Eventually, he rejoined her, sitting at the foot of the bed where he leaned against the bedpost.
“Go on to bed,” she said. “I’ll be fine now.”
“Not yet. I want to be sure before I leave that ye’re not in distress. It’s my fault ye got overheated and couldn’t breathe. I shouldn’t have…”
Since he let the sentence drop, she asked, “Shouldn’t have what? Kissed me?”
There was a whimsical twist at the corner of his mouth that mixed a bit of shouldn’t-have with glad-I-did. He had a kissable mouth, no bow in the top lip, but it was the whole package that made him sexy, and what marvelous antics he could do with those lips from smiling to kissing to…
“It was nice.” Nice? Did she really say that? She sighed. It had been much more than nice. She rubbed her finger along her lower lip. “Your beard…hmm…tickled.”
“Ye mean scratched.”
His mouth quirked again, and he scraped his jaw, his fingernails making a rasping noise against his whiskers. His brows collided above his nose, as if he were deep in thought. About what? Whether he should shave before kissing her again? She liked his beard—the woodsy scent of it, the softness, even the ticklishness. And the whiskers gave him some of the bad boy look she found sexy. But most of all, his beard gave her the feeling that everything he set out to do would get done. And whatever he set out to accomplish, the feat would be epic.
A low knock startled them, and they looked sharply in the direction of the door. “Amber,” a whispered voice said.
She glanced at Daniel. “Rick? At this hour?”
“Are you awake?” Rick’s voice rose out of the whisper range, as if his hearing was impaired and he thought he was talking more softly than he was.
Amber threw back the covers without considering the appropriateness of what she was wearing. Daniel, sitting at the end of the bed, pressed down on her still-covered feet. “Don’t get up.”
“He’s had too much to drink. He’ll wake up the household. Better let him in.”
The Amber Brooch: Time Travel Romance (The Celtic Brooch Book 8) Page 39
