The Escort

by Gina Robinson

  The humid, departing fog chilled the air on the deck of the Cincinnati. Angelina huddled her arms tightly against herself for warmth as she leaned against the rail and retched into the tumultuous, blue-green Hudson River below. The wind whipped at her, streaking her hair across her face and stinging her flesh, moist with the trauma of seasickness. The fifteen minute crossing stretched into thirty, then forty-five. Tonio came out from the warmth of the cabin to check on her.

  "One bite of croissant." She clutched her stomach, though it had nothing left, worried she would wretch in front of him and horrified at the thought.

  "Come into the cabin."

  She shook her head. He removed his fringed leather jacket and hooked it over her shoulders. "Your coat is too thin for this kind of weather." Then he turned and went back to the cabin.

  She watched him retreat, wondering about this small show of kindness. He intrigued her. Too bad she wouldn't have time to discover his motives. When they reached Jersey City, she'd be on her own. Her plan didn't prevent her from burrowing her nose deep into the rich leather of his coat or enjoying its body-warmed heat and the scent he left clinging to the collar. Even with waves of nausea clutching her stomach, he smelled good. Too good. She took a deep breath to slow her racing heart, hoping that Franco Allessandro would be able to set her pulse pattering as Tonio did. She would settle for half as fast.

  "Have we missed our train?" Angelina asked.

  Tonio, leaning across the ticket counter at the Jersey City terminal, waved her into silence and focused his attention on the clerk behind the window.

  Angelina huddled close behind him, listening with interest to the conversation, memorizing as much of it as possible. But they spoke rapidly in quiet tones and she wasn't able to understand much. Still, it would be a useful conversation to have in her repertoire. If she succeeded in her plan she would need it soon. Frustrated, she took a step back and focused her attention on the schedule board posted above the ticket window. Fortunately, she could read English better than she understood the spoken language.

  She scanned the board quickly. The fog had delayed them. They had missed their train by ten minutes. The next one with connections through to Chicago didn't leave for another hour, and the one after that three hours later. Perfect! She didn't want to spend the night in the station alone. Much better to be in the safety of the train. The incident in the New York depot had convinced her of that. As soon as Tonio finished at the window she'd ask him for her ticket. Then nothing could foil her plan.

  Tonio stepped back from the window and grabbed her arm. "Come on," he said. "The train was delayed—it hasn't left yet. We can make it if we hurry." He grabbed their bags.

  Angelina scrambled after him. "Why can't we wait for the next train?" She needed more time! Her thoughts whirled in a panic. She tried to delay him. "Let's stay in the depot, get a bite to eat. I'm hungry."

  "I thought you'd sworn off food." He waited for her to pass in front of him, then placed his hand in the small of her back and nudged her along. "This way."

  The boarding area was nearly empty when they reached it and the last call was being sounded. Tonio hurriedly hailed a porter, grabbed her arm, and handed her the ticket. "Take this and your traveling case and board the train. Find two seats together while I check the luggage. Damn! We're going to have to travel second class."

  This turn of events was more than she'd hoped for. It was too easy! She considered not boarding the train at all, but under his watchful eye there was nothing else she could do. She lifted her skirts and climbed serenely up the loading steps, even pausing to turn and smile at him, but his attention was already focused on the man loading their luggage. Goodbye, Tonio!

  She forced herself on with her heart racing. As soon as her feet hit the top step, she sped down the aisle toward the front of the train and the first exit she could find. People cluttered the aisle, stretching and shoving luggage under their seats.

  "Mi scusi. Please, I must get through!" She ran with her bag held high, level with her head, dodging people both seated and not, looking back at regular intervals to see if Tonio had boarded yet.

  A blast of steam from the engine sounded. Angelina felt a slight shift of forward motion as the engineer released the brake. Another puff of steam followed. The exit lay just ahead. She raced forward, and, head bowed, turned down the exit stairs. Her skirts caught. As she reached to free them a familiar voice stopped her.

  "Going someplace?"

  She looked up and went cold.

  Tonio stood at the bottom of the stairs, blocking her way, fury snapping in his eyes. Without a word he stepped up, grabbed her arm, and pulled her along into a pair of seats. He was tall and strong. Resisting him was futile and would only cause a scene. But there was still a chance—

  "I…I need to use the bathroom."

  He pulled her ticket from her tight grip and pointed to a small cubicle at the back of the car. "Go right ahead."

  The train lurched forward. She sat down, defeated. "Why bother to escort me? Why not just let me go? It would be much less trouble for you."

  "I like trouble." He looked out across the aisle and through the window as the Jersey City depot disappeared behind them.

  "Just what was your plan?" Tonio glared at her.

  "I was going to get off and exchange my ticket for a later train."

  "And did this idea just spring to mind, or had you planned it all along?"

  There was no reason to keep the truth from him. "Originally, I planned to ask you for my ticket. Once we were seated I was going to excuse myself to use the bathroom and freshen up. Then I was going to get off the train and exchange my ticket. I figured you wouldn't notice until the train had pulled away and it was too late. But when we had to hurry to catch the train, I had to think on my feet."

  "You don't give me much credit for brains." He stared hard at her, his head cocked a little to the side. "Why run?"

  She shrugged, unable to admit to her attraction to him and the slight to her honor at being beholden to a stranger. "How did you know I was trying to get off?"

  "I saw you through the window, scuttling down the aisle like a lady with a bee up her ass. I figured you weren't in that big a hurry to find a seat."

  "Very observant."

  "You don't like me much." His voice didn't give any emotion away.

  "I like you fine." She liked him too much.

  "But you don't trust me."

  She didn't trust herself. Angelina tried not to squirm under his heavy gaze. "I'm tired of being beholden to others, that's all. I want to take care of myself."

  "Is that all? Get over the notion. I promised Nonna and Mario that I would take care of you. And I will. I'm a man of my word."

  She felt his gentle touch on her arm.

  "Come on. Let's get something to eat. You complained you were hungry over an hour ago, or was that subterfuge, too?"

  "It was, and I am. But I have a bag of food that Lucia, Mario's wife, packed for me."

  "Leave it. We'll eat it later. This one's on me."

  She turned to face him and was caught by his dark, devastating eyes. She stared into them a moment too long. She could be prisoner of those eyes forever. She dropped her gaze. If ever Papa had to worry over a man ruining her…

  The cafe car was dark and dimly lit. Outside it had started to rain. Tonio ordered at the counter next to the grill and returned to the table with their food. Angelina felt his gaze on her as she dusted away crumbs left by the table's last occupants. When they were both seated, he took a drink of his beer and watched her intently as she took a bite of her grilled sandwich. She crinkled her nose without thinking.

  "You don't like American food?"

  "I do. But not this. It tastes like the grill."

  "So you don't just eat bread and beans. Good southern food."

  Angelina laughed. "No."

  They ate in silence for a moment. She felt his gaze on her, but didn't look up to meet it. At last he spoke, "I think it
's fair if I ask—why was your first escort denied entry?"

  "Paolo got trachoma on the ship over."

  "Paolo?"

  "My husband's youngest brother. He's twenty-five, but he acts more like fifteen. I was at Mario's about a week when I ran into a man I'd met on the boat. He told me Paolo had been boasting about how he was going thwart immigration and jump ship and swim ashore."

  "Did he?"

  "He never showed up." She grimaced. "I doubt he did. He doesn't have the courage."

  "Wise man. Some poor fool tries every year and inevitably his body washes up on the beach, beat beyond recognition." He took a sip of beer. "Your husband didn't have any qualms with sending you over with his younger brother? I mean—"

  "I know what you mean, Signor Domani. No, he didn't. Paolo looks like a frog."

  "You prefer your men handsome?" He leaned toward her. She liked the raw look she saw in his expression. He was incredibly handsome. And he knew it. She looked down and drew small circles on the table with the water that condensed beneath her glass.

  "What woman doesn't? We all dream of princes."

  "You're not worried that your husband is a frog, too?"

  "He's twenty-five years older than I am. He's most assuredly a toad." She fought the urge to look up and see his shocked face. When he didn't answer immediately, she couldn't help herself. She lifted her gaze and looked directly at him.

  He sat well back in his chair, smiling at her in obvious amusement. He drained his beer and set the empty glass on the table. "The difference between the young frog and the old toad being?"

  "The toad has money and land and a kind heart."

  "I see. You couldn't find a handsome man with money?"

  "You must have left Italy a long time ago. And my guess is that you've never been to the South. There are no men. The crop failures have sent them all away. Nearly all the able-bodied men have emigrated to find work. Or they've been killed in wars. Southern women without dowries remain unmarried. And how can they get them when their fathers can't work?"

  "There is always the convent," he said. "A wise and pristine choice."

  "Filled to capacity."

  "A blessing then." He leaned forward and her heart skipped a beat. "I can't picture a girl with your temperament there anyway."

  Her face fell and he laughed. He'd seen her disappointment. He had been on the verge of a compliment. Or so she'd hoped.

  "Men are so scarce that the rich are willing to accept any man for their daughters, even those well below their station. Had I a dowry, I would have rejected any choice of man left to me in the village."

  "It appears I missed my calling," he said. "I shouldn't be here in the States breaking my back on a mining claim. I should be back in Italy, marrying some rich southerner."

  "They'd as soon spit on you, Northerner."

  "And you?"

  She smiled her most dazzling smile at him. "I can put up with you until Idaho."

  "You won't be trying to escape again?"

  "Will I need to?"

  He laughed and stood up, motioning toward the door with his head. "Let's get back." As they passed through the door from the dining car he leaned close and whispered in her ear. "Maybe."

  The conductor came through again after dark, not to punch tickets but to sell an assortment of goods, everything from chumming boards that were placed across facing seats to form a bed, to blankets and pillows. He was followed closely by the news butcher who sold a more varied stock—candy, cigarettes, and sundries, and, of course, newspapers. Angelina watched as Tonio pivoted the two wooden bench seats to face each other and spread the chumming board and pillows between them.

  "Straw," he said thumping a pillow. "You'd think for the outrageous price of two dollars and fifty cents you'd get goose down."

  Oil lamps burned dimly. Rain splashed against the windows. People were settling down for the night and preparing their beds, much as Tonio was.

  "Damn! I hate second class. This train borders on ancient. Thirty years if it's a day."

  "Don't like traveling with the vermin?"

  "Don't like sleeping on straw and planks. We'll see how you feel in the morning. First chance I get, I'm earning our way out of here. From Chicago, we'll be traveling in style. After you." He indicated the inside of the makeshift bed, next to the window.

  "I'm not sleeping with you." She blurted the words out without thinking.

  "Let's get our terminology straight. Sleeping with me is a much more enjoyable, intimate occasion. This is sleeping next to me, chumming—sharing space for the mutual purpose of sleep. But suit yourself; find someone else to chum with. I'm sure the conductor can find someone suitable, for another two fifty."

  She quickly scanned the coach. Other than women with families, who were already snuggled together for the night, there were no single women. Two or three men still sought someone to chum with. One, a greasy looking man who spoke some Slavic tongue, eyed her and smiled hopefully.

  "Move over," she finally said.

  "Nothing doing. You get the window."

  "Afraid I'll try to escape?"

  "I don't like sleeping next to cold glass."

  She slipped off her work boots and scooted next to the window. He handed the boots back to her, along with her duffel.

  "Keep your boots on or they might not be here in the morning." He tossed a thin blanket over her and slid in next to her, turning his back to her. "Good night," he said, looking back over his shoulder. He rolled forward again, toward the aisle.

  He was right. The bed was hard and uncomfortable and the window cold. She tried positioning her duffel between them, but that pushed her closer to the drafty window. At last she shoved it next to the window and curled around it like it was a favorite doll. Her back butted up against Tonio, whose body warmth was exceedingly tempting. She stared outside at the dark countryside passing by. With her luck and sleeping habits she'd probably wake in the morning to find herself sprawled out over Tonio like a wanton woman. It wasn't fair that he slept peacefully while she fought the temptation to roll over and cuddle behind him. Just for warmth.

  She rolled back over on one elbow and stared at him. His body was taut and firm even in the relaxation of sleep. He looked like he slept at alert, ready to pounce up and use that dangerous-looking knife on anyone who dared disturb him. His hair curled up in back where it met his neck. For the first time she noticed a jagged scar that ran up the nape of his neck and into his hairline. How would a man get a scar like that? He slept with his mouth closed. A good sign. He wasn't likely to snore.

  A child cried for water at the back of the coach. His mother walked past carrying a cup for her thirsty child. "I remember those newlywed days when I couldn't keep my eyes off my man." She winked and disappeared down the aisle.

  Angelina dropped off her elbow and back over to face the window. She understood enough English to get the woman's gist. Her heart pounded in her ears, but her embarrassed flush quickly cooled as she huddled next to her duffel. She was tired and shaken. Fatigued beyond what she could remember. And cold. She was used to sleeping in a bed with her sisters and then with Mario's children. Loneliness and exhaustion overcame her. She crossed her arms protectively in front of her and rolled over behind Tonio.

  Chapter 3

  Tonio sat opposite Angelina in the dining car, watching her wolf down a big breakfast. Not that watching her was hard on the eyes. He could have stared at her all day. More like it was hard on the rest of him. He was still wondering what he was doing taking her to the mining country, why her appeal about dreams and hopes had convinced him to do this mad deed. He hadn't thought he had anything noble or chivalrous left in him. He generally regarded himself as a cynic and liked it that way. But back at the apartment, she'd been so pretty, so damned vulnerable and he owed Nonna Gia one.

  Nonna was going to owe him one if he ever got back to New York. What was Nonna thinking saddling him with a woman he couldn't stop brooding about? He'd vowed to himself a long
time ago that he would never again mess with a woman he couldn't have. And he couldn't have this one for reasons beyond her foolish proxy marriage. She wanted a husband who could give her a home, security, children. He had one goal and one only, to make the Jupiter mine pay off so that he and his partners would be rich. In the face of security, his dream didn't seem like much to offer a woman. And he didn't intend to anyway. A woman would complicate his life.

  Angelina continued to shovel it in. For all her flirtatious ways, she made no pretense of being a dainty eater. Maybe being poor all her life had taught her to eat with gusto when she could.

  "Decide American food isn't so bad after all?" Tonio asked. Speaking was better than letting his thoughts run with images of what he'd like to do with her.

  They'd left the rain behind overnight, somewhere between Newark and Philadelphia. Weak sunlight seeped into the dining car through grease-filmed windows. They were nearly alone in the car. Most people traveled with their own supply of food, eliminating the need to frequent the diner. Tonio hadn't bothered with packing meals and Angelina had nibbled away the snacks Lucia had packed for her.

  "I can live with it." She paused with a forkful of fried potatoes poised mid-air. "When hungry enough. I prefer a brioche and a cappuccino for a first meal of the day. Breakfast should not weigh a person down; that's what midday and evening meals are for."

  Angelina intrigued him. She shouldn't know about brioches. "Where did you learn about coffee and fancy pastries? I thought the peasantry had plain bread for breakfast."

  "When I lived in Signor Costagnola's household. I can live the good life as well as you. I spent a year under the roof of one of the richest men of the region." She didn't sound as proud of the fact as she should have.

  "Oh? And just what did you do for Signor Costagnola?" He couldn't help asking the baited question. He knew too much about noblemen's appetites and the help.

  "Less than he would have liked." Her tone was flat.

  Tonio felt relieved. "That being?"

  "You have a dirty mind. I was a pastry chef and baker in his kitchen. I lived in the servant's quarters, but I observed the gentry closely."