by Bobbi Smith
"There's not much more to be done for it. I'll just have to suffer," Christopher grinned.
Katie was relieved to finally realize that he was teasing her and she flashed him a warm smile.
Christopher stared, suddenly struck by the warmth of her natural beauty. She was attractive no matter what, but when she smiled, Kathleen Kingsford was devastating. She was definitely different from any woman he'd ever known before.
"Shall I escort you back to your cabin?" he offered.
"No," she declined. "There's really no need."
"Until this evening, then, Kathleen." He excused him self and went back to his stateroom.
Katie stood watching until the cabin door closed behind him. Christopher Fletcher was an enigma. According to her brother, he was a gambler; according to Andre's grumblings, he was a scoundrel; and yet, neither description fit the man she had just spoken with. She half-smiled to herself. Apologizing to. Christopher Fletcher hadn't been too difficult. True, there had been a few awkward moments, but he had seemed to view the whole incident with careless disregard. Why, if it had been Andre Montard she'd hit... Well, Katie didn't want to think about that. Katie's smile widened as she realized that for the first time since she'd left home she was enjoying herself. Lord knows, this trip had been boring up until now, maybe this gambler/scoundrel would liven things up a little bit. Quite pleased with herself for having taken matters into her own hands, Katie headed back to her room, almost looking forward to dressing up for the evening ahead.
Joel eyed Christopher with open curiosity as he reentered their cabin. "Where've you been? I'd have thought with that eye you'd be holed up here."
"No, I've been to the barbershop," Christopher replied, shedding his coat, tie and shirt.
"The barbershop? What for?"
"I have a dinner engagement tonight and I didn't trust myself with a razor and only one good eye." He rubbed his chin ruefully.
"So who you goin' to dinner with?"
"Who else? Kathleen Kingsford."
"You mean that little gal who-"
"The same." Christopher grinned as he poured warm water from the white ceramic pitcher into the matching bowl and began to wash.
"How'd you manage that? She didn't seem none too fond of you this momin'."
"She came around," he responded with his usual arrogance where women were concerned. Then seeing Joel's doubtful expression he amended, "She came around to apologize this afternoon for hitting me."
"You're foolin'?"
"No. In all seriousness, she did apologize and I asked her to dinner tonight; she agreed."
Joel gave a low whistle, "That's one woman I ain't never gonna understand."
"She is intriguing." Christopher paused as quick thoughts of Katie spun through his mind-Katie defending her brother, Katie stumbling over her apology and then the warm smile she'd bestowed on him. Yes, she was intriguing and damned attractive, too. Setting his mind to the business of getting ready, Christopher hurriedly finished washing and changed into evening clothes.
Just as he was about to leave, he stopped and started to rummage through the pockets of the jacket he'd worn that day.
"What are you looking for? Did you lose somethin'?"
"No, wait a minute... Ah, here it is." He pulled a small black packet from the breast pocket of the coat.
"What's that?" Joel was really curious now.
"The latest in evening wear for losers of fist fights." Slipping it on quickly, but carefully, Christopher faced his friend, the eyepatch in place. "Well, what do you think?"
"I don't blame you one bit. Your eye is ugly," Joel laughed. "Oh-Chris?"
"What?"
"Be careful you don't make her mad..."
Christopher gave Joel a one-eyed glare and left the cabin.
Lying back on his bunk, Joel smiled broadly. He had never seen Christopher in such good spirits. The past year had been a long and tedious one for them. Joel grimaced as he thought of all the time they had wasted sparring with each other. Though Christopher had freed him as soon as they'd gone North, Joel still had not believed in him completely. It was only with the passing of time that he'd come to realize that Christopher was a man of his word. When he had finally been able to trust him, they had forged an enduring friendship that had helped to strengthen their purpose. Now, they both knew what had to be done and they were prepared to do it. The fact that Christopher now owned Greenwood only made their task that much less complicated.
Joel supposed that it was the sense of having so smoothly accomplished such an important part of their plan that had lightened Christopher's mood. But then again, the prospect of an evening with a woman as pretty as Kathleen Kingsford could definitely improve any man's outlook. Silently, Joel wished his friend well. Somehow, he felt with this particular lady, Christopher Fletcher might just have met his match.
Straightening her skirts for what seemed like the hundreth time, Katie stood in the middle of her cabin awaiting Christopher's arrival. It amazed her that she was actually excited about this dinner.
Swirling around, she took a quick glance to double check her appearance in the small mirror that hung over the washstand. She supposed she was ready. With her hair pinned up, dressed in her best dinner dress, she felt confident that she looked nice. Katie was totally unaware that the simple hairstyle and sleek unadorned gown transformed her from Mark's sister to Miss Katie Kingsford, a rare and precious beauty. Katie only knew that tonight she was glad to have Christopher Fletcher as a diversion. He certainly had beautiful eyes, she mused, from what she could see of them anyway. She was smiling at the thought when his knock came at her door.
"Good evening, Katie," Christopher greeted her, his gaze skimming over her, memorizing the vision she made in the mellow softness of the lamplight. "You look beautiful."
"Good evening, Mr.... Christopher," she smiled as she caught herself. She gave a small gasp as she looked up at him; over his battered eye he wore a wicked looking black patch.
"A patch?"
"I thought it makes me look dashing. What do you think?" he grinned.
"Well, ah, it's certainly different," she hedged.
"Believe me, I look better this way. You pack quite a punch," he chuckled.
Katie blushed at his mocking words. "Does it still hurt?"
"I can take it," he confided. "Just next time warn me so I can duck."
"There won't be a next time."
"You're sure?" his tone was bantering.
"Positive," she assured him, remembering her promise to her father to behave in a lady-like manner.
"Good." Then changing the topic, he asked, "Are you ready?"
"If you are."
"You might need a wrap on deck. The dampness of the night air can be chilling," he advised, and Katie got her best shawl from her trunk.
As she came back to him, Christopher took it from her and spread it gently across her shoulders. Even through the material, Katie could feel the heat of his touch and she shivered, stepping quickly from him.
Christopher led the way out onto the deck, wondering at her shyness.
"Kathleen," he began, but she interrupted him.
"Before you say another word, there is something you have to know." Katie sounded determined and Christopher looked concerned.
"What is it?"
Grinning at his momentary look of discomfort, she explained, "Everyone calls me Katie."
"Katie?" he tested.
"Katie," she answered.
"All right, Katie. Are you hungry?"
"I'm starving."
Christopher was amused by her candid answer. He couldn't ever remember getting such an honest response from a lady before.
"Well, this boat is renowned for its chef. I think you'll enjoy dinner." He held the door for her and they entered the grand salon together.
What had occurred on deck earlier that day was now common knowledge and the other diners watched them with open curiosity. Christopher suddenly had the unbidden urge to pr
otect Katie from any more gossip. Smiling and nodding to those who were staring, he forced them to look away. With a guiding hand at Katie's back, he directed her to a table and held her chair for her.
"Thank you." Katie had been so intent on walking correctly in her hoop skirt that she had not noticed the others' interest in their arrival.
Looking up at Christopher, she was surprised to find him scowling blackly.
"Is something wrong?" Katie glanced about her but could see no reason for him to be upset.
"No," he replied, quickly masking the irritation he felt. "Shall we order?" he suggested as a waiter approached.
"Fine," she answered, wondering what she had done to upset him.
After the waiter had taken their orders, he moved away and Katie was left alone with Christopher. Feeling a little awkward, Katie was not quite sure what to talk to him about.
"Are you from New Orleans?" she finally ventured.
"No. Philadelphia, originally," he told her. "But I ha ven't lived there for years."
"Have you been travelling?"
"Yes. Europe.. .New Orleans... St. Louis."
"You must be very good at what you do, if you can afford to travel so extensively."
Christopher was puzzled for a moment by her statement and then realized that Katie knew nothing about him, save that he was a gambler.
Giving her a lazy half-smile, he replied, "I like to think that I am." He paused, "Are you from New Orleans?"
"No!" she answered almost too quickly. "I don't think I'm from anywhere in particular."
"Oh?"
"My father's with the Pacific Railroad. He's a survey engineer," she told him proudly.
"You follow the tracks?" Christopher was amazed; he had heard of the rough life in the railroad camps.
Katie nodded. "He's working in southern Missouri now."
"And you enjoy that life?" Christopher was clearly mystified by what he'd discovered.
"Of course," she bristled, thinking that he was being critical of their lifestyle.
"Now, don't get all prickly," Christopher cajoled, sensing her anger and understanding it. "Joel warned me not to get you mad again..."
She couldn't control the smile that teased her lips, "It's just that you sounded so condemning..."
"No, Katie, not at all. In fact, I'm fascinated. Will you tell me about it?"
Katie eyed him warily and then relaxed. "I'm sorry. But Andre reacted so strangely when I told him..."
"Don't ever compare me to Andre Montard," Christopher told her seriously. Then lightening his tone, he continued, "Now tell me what it's like, living in a railroad construction camp."
"It's wonderful," Katie told him enthusiastically, her beauty made even more radiant by her eagerness to talk about her home. "The country is open and free. And so are the people. We work hard, but there's time to enjoy life, too."
"Does your father actually build the railroad?"
"No. He does the survey work. He always rides out ahead to set the line."
"How far ahead of the rails does he work?"
"It depends on the terrain. Usually, he's gone for a week or so at a time."
"How does your mother like it?"
"My mother's dead."
"I'm sorry."
"So am I, but she died a long time ago."
"So, you and Mark are alone in camp most of the time?"
"Yes, and I think that probably is why Father made me go on this trip with Mark." She sounded so disgusted that he looked at her quizzically.
"You didn't want to come?" He was surprised. Most of the women of Christopher's acquaintance would have loved a chance to visit New Orleans.
"No. I'd much rather be back in camp. But with Mark going away to school this fall, Father was worried about leaving me alone."
"I can appreciate his concern for you. You'd be unprotected." Christopher studied her, knowing that she would be a temptation to any man... and to lonely men working on the tracks... well, how could they resist her?
"That's ridiculous. I can take care of myself. I always have," Katie informed him.
Not wanting to mar their evening with an argument over the merits of her ability to protect herself-he'd already discovered firsthand that she was no simpering miss when it came to decisive forceful action-Christopher dropped the subject.
"So, why are you going to New Orleans?" Katie realized that she'd told him practically her whole life story and yet she knew very little about him.
"I have some business to attend to," he answered vaguely, not used to discussing his personal affairs.
"Well, perhaps we'll see each other again," she said politely.
"No doubt, since Greenwood and Kingsford House border each other."
"Greenwood?"
"Your brother didn't tell you?"
"Tell me what?"
"That I won Greenwood from Emil Montard in the poker game this morning."
Katie was stunned at the news and yet excited to find that Christopher would be near during her stay with her uncle. "I'll bet they're upset about that."
Christopher had no sympathy for the Montards and answered coldly, "He chose to bet it."
"That's true enough," she agreed and then fell silent as the first course of their meal was served.
Andre Montard was in the saloon when he happened to glance out into the grand salon and caught sight of Katie dining with Fletcher. Rage shook him. It was hard enough to deal with the loss of Greenwood but Katie was his. He wanted her and he planned to have her. Why just that morning she had called him Andre! Surely that was a sign that her affections were warming to him. Andre didn't know how Fletcher had managed to insinuate himself into Katie's life, but he was going to see it ended as soon as possible. Surely her brother didn't know that she was dining with Fletcher. Perhaps, he could locate Mark Kingsford and let him know what was going on. Hurrying from the bar, Andre went in search of Mark, thinking mistakenly that the young man could exert some control over his errant sister.
Their dinner was sumptuous, each delicacy perfectly prepared. And they both ate their fill; Katie being unencumbered by the rules of Southern society, much to Christopher's delight. He had grudgingly come to admire Katie as the meal had progressed. Her conversation was witty and intelligent and, despite the fact that she knew him only as a gambler, she was not critical or judgmental.
She was unlike any woman he'd ever encountered before. Women had always wanted only one of two things from him: Money and/or marriage. Their entire approach had been to flirt with him and try to entice him to their beds, hoping by sampling their charms that he would either fall madly in love with them or get them pregnant, whichever came first. During all his years, he had carefully avoided entangling himself too deeply with virginal women, knowing how awkward things could become. Yet, hare he was courting a young beauty who not only appealed to him physically but stimulated him mentally, as well. He frowned at the thought, but then realized that Katie was a far cry from the society debutantes he'd known in Philadelphia.
Katie, sensing that he was pondering something serious, looked at him questioningly.
"Christopher? Is something wrong?"
"No. Nothing. Would you like to take a walk on deck?" He was tired of the crowded, bustling dining room and wanted to get away, to spend some time alone with this thoroughly delightful, unpredictable woman.
"I'd love to."
Helping her up from her chair, he led her from the room. As they stepped out into the chilling dampness of the night air, Katie remembered her shawl.
"I'm afraid I left my wrap inside."
"Wait here," he told her gallantly. "I'll get it."
As Christopher disappeared back inside, Katie moved to stand at the rail.
"Here she is now." Katie recognized Mark's voice and looked up.
"Good evening, Mark," she began and then caught sight of Andre with him. "Andre," Katie acknowledged barely concealing her dislike.
"Is it true?" Mark demanded heatedly.
"Is what true?" She had no idea what he was talking about.
"Did you have dinner with Fletcher?"
Katie's eyes narrowed as she glanced from Andre to Mark. "So what if I did?" she countered.
"The man's a card-shark!" Mark started, but Katie interrupted.
"He is not! You admitted yourself that you weren't cheated!"
"That's beside the point."
"He's no good, Katie," Andre put in.
"Katie! How could you?" Mark said. Fletcher had just humiliated him and now his own sister was going out with him.
"I'll tell you how I could, Mark Kingsford." She glared at him, her hands on her hips. "After you told me what really happened I was so embarrassed that I went to see him to apologize."
"You went to see him to apologize?" Mark was dumbfounded. "Katie, it wasn't your place!"
"You may have started the whole ordeal, but I definitely finished it!" she declared.
"But Katie..." Mark and Andre argued. "Fletcher is
"I have your shawl." Christopher's voice was deep and mellow as he rejoined her. "Good evening Mark, Andre."
Christopher automatically knew what they were trying to do and he could barely restrain the anger that flared to life within him. He wanted to throttle these two.
"Fletcher," their voices were strangled.
"Katie, if you're ready?" Christopher took her elbow, steering her away.
At his firm, guiding touch a totally foreign thrill shot through Katie and suddenly her nerves were jangled. Between Mark's warnings and her own body's reactions, Katie was confused. Her instincts told her to trust Christopher, but still...
"Yes, I'm ready," she managed and didn't look back as they left Mark and Andre behind.
When they were far enough away, Katie smiled up at Christopher.
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"Rescuing me from my brother and Andre."
"My pleasure. I take it you don't care for Andre?"
"No..." she hesitated about telling him the truth, but finally decided to follow her innate feelings. "No, I don't. There's just something about him..."
"How do you judge people, Katie?" Christopher was interested. Women he had known in the past would have been attracted to Montard's wealth and repelled by his own "profession." But then, Katie was different.