Commitment meant marriage. Marriage meant children. He was ill-suited for the roles of husband and father. And even if he were to let his heart rule his head, it wouldn’t be fair to Laurel. He could never give her the kind of life she deserved. Never make her fairy-tale world a reality.
He was a gambler, and that’s all he was ever going to be.
Putting his arm around her, he led her to the window. The stars glimmered luminously, like sparkling diamonds against a backdrop of ebony satin, but they were no lovelier than the love shining in Laurel’s big blue eyes.
“I love the stars,” he said. “They’re so mysterious, yet comforting to look at. See that brilliant one up there? That’s the North Star. I remember sitting around campfires in the mining camps, looking up at the star and wishing me and Whitey would strike it rich.”
“And did you?” she asked, trying not to let her voice reveal the disappointment she felt because he hadn’t declared himself, and wondering if he ever would.
“No. We made enough to get along but we never hit pay dirt. Mostly I played cards to earn my way. It was a lot less work, and a hell of a lot more fun than swinging a pickax.”
“What’s that group of stars?” she asked, pointing to the odd formation that looked like the shape of a hunter.
Chance’s gaze followed her finger. “Orion. See,” he explained, tracing his finger along the glass, “you can make out the Hunter’s belt and sword.”
Laurel stared intently, then nodded enthusiastically. “You’re right! I never realized.”
“To the naked eye the stars look blue-white in color, but if you were to view them through a telescope, you’d see that some are actually a deep red.”
Laurel looked at him in wonder. “You’ve looked through a telescope?”
“Astronomy is sort of a hobby of mine.” When he saw her surprise, he added, “Would you like to look at the stars through a telescope? I have one in my room.” He tweaked her nose. “That is, if you’re not too afraid to enter a man’s bedroom.”
“Your room can’t be nearly as frightening as what I’ve already experienced tonight.”
He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Don’t be too sure, angel. I can be downright scary when I put my mind to it.” Without another word, he grasped her hand and led her to his room.
“It’s so big!”
His grin was incredibly sexy, and it made her heart flutter. “Why, thank you. I like to think so.”
“I meant your room,” she chided, knocking him playfully on the arm. “Now behave yourself.”
“What fun would that be, angel?”
While he went to the large bow window to ready the telescope, Laurel took the opportunity to look around. She’d never been in a man’s bedroom before, except her father’s and Whitey’s, but she didn’t think either of those counted.
Chance’s room was much larger than the others she’d seen. There was a whole wall of windows, and the mahogany bedstead hugging the side wall was enormous. The blue-and-white gingham comforter matched the curtains at the window, and there was a colorful oriental carpet on the pine-planked flooring. By the wood stove stood two comfortable-looking blue leather wing chairs, and between them a table stacked with books.
A closer inspection revealed Chance’s interest in astronomy and the surprising fact that he read Mark Twain and Herman Melville.
Not only was she seeing his bedroom for the very first time, she was seeing a whole new side of Chance that she hadn’t known existed. His room spoke of refinement, of educational pursuits, and she found that somewhat daunting.
“I had no idea you were interested in so many different things.”
He smiled, handing her a glass of sherry he’d poured from a crystal decanter. “I guess we’ve never spent much time really getting to know each other. There’s a lot about you, for instance, that constantly surprises me.”
She gestured to herself. “Me? Why, I’m as simple and open as they come. I doubt you’ll glean many surprises from me.”
“You’ve got an extraordinary talent for speechmaking, angel. I never realized that before.” There were a great many things to love and admire about Laurel. Not only did she possess a generous heart, but her ability to inspire others to reform was extraordinary.
Her penchant for giving unselfishly of herself spurred him to do the same, and he found he enjoyed the charitable functions he’d taken upon himself. Soon Gus would have a new church, the public library would be able to purchase books with money he’d donated, the women’s shelters would have regular deliveries of food, and all because Laurel had set an example to help her fellow man.
He might not be willing to give up liquor or gambling, but he could use part of his profits to help those less fortunate than himself. The great feeling he derived from his small contributions couldn’t be measured monetarily.
Chance’s observation surprised Laurel. “You’ve heard me speak? I don’t recall seeing you in the crowds.”
He motioned to one of the wing chairs, inviting her to sit. “I doubt it would have looked too good for a saloon owner to be seen at a temperance meeting. Trust me—I kept a low profile.”
“Do you really think I’m good?” His opinion mattered more than she cared to admit.
“Good enough to put a crimp in my business, angel.” He took a sip of sherry, and she followed suit, welcoming the sweet burning taste into her throat, but being ever mindful of the effect that spirits had on her.
“You’re not trying to get me drunk, are you?” she said teasingly, but the look he cast her was serious and intent.
“When we make love, angel, I want you sober as a judge. I want you to feel every kiss, every caress. I want you to know that it’s me who’s putting a brand on you.”
Sharp, tingling sensations filled her, and she practically launched herself out of the chair. “I’d like to see your scope now.”
His eyebrow arched. “Really?”
The heat from her loins shot straight to her cheeks. “Quit twisting everything I say, Chance Rafferty, or I’m going to leave.” The man was positively incorrigible.
He laughed, following her to the window. “Stand behind the eyepiece and look into it.”
She did as he directed and was immediately awed. “Everything looks so close. I feel like I could catch a moonbeam in the palm of my hand.”
“You should see what it’s like to view an aurora.”
“Like in ‘aurora borealis’?” So that was where he had come up with the name for his saloon.
“I’ve seen the northern lights and they’re breathtaking. They’re like streamers of luminous light, beautiful and special. A rarity to behold.”
“Like this saloon?” His expression was heartfelt, and she couldn’t help but smile at his look of embarrassment.
“Come here,” he said, hauling her into his arms. “I’m not usually so poetic about things, but with you sharing my enthusiasm for astronomy, I can’t help it.”
Tenderly, she caressed his cheek. “You’re a different Chance than the one I met those many months ago.”
He grasped her hand, kissing her palm. “Not different, angel, just more myself.”
“I like this side of you.”
“Enough to let me kiss you?”
Behind them the pine logs in the wood stove hissed and crackled, but Laurel could hear only the steady pounding of her heart.
Chance didn’t wait for her answer. Instead, he drew Laurel into his arms and covered her mouth with his own. At first his kiss was urgent, demanding, communicating how desperate he was to possess her, then it gentled as he continued to explore the soft inner recesses of her mouth with his tongue.
At her soft moan of pleasure, he raised his lips from hers and gazed into eyes filled with uncertainty and wonder. “I want to make love to you, angel. I want to make you mine.”
Desire twisted Laurel’s heart, made her knees tremble, and it was difficult to form a coherent thought. Somewhere in the back of her mind sh
e knew she should resist. But no words of resistance poured forth, and Chance took her silence as acquiescence, sweeping her up in his arms to carry her to the bed.
CHAPTER 19
In the space of two heartbeats, Chance’s nimble fingers undid the row of buttons down the front of Laurel’s gown as he gazed into eyes filled with passion and a touch of apprehension.
“I’ve waited a long time for you, angel. Longer than I’ve waited for anyone. I know this is your first time, but you won’t be disappointed. I’ll make it good for you.”
Caressing his stubbled cheek, she sighed, knowing her only disappointment was that Chance hadn’t said he loved her. But in time, and with patience, perhaps that would change. “You make me feel things I’ve never felt before. I . . .” She blushed as she stood next to the bed, naked before him. “I want you to unlock all of the mysteries for me. I want to feel it all.”
Quickly taking off his clothes, he lifted her onto the bed and lay down beside her. The candles he’d lit cast her body in golden hues, and he traced over it slowly and carefully with his index finger. “I could gaze upon your naked flesh all day and never tire of it. You are perfection.”
Her hand reached up to explore his massive chest, the dark hairs curling there, and she smiled. “You’re pretty perfect yourself.”
“God, angel, I . . .” He kissed her, thrusting his tongue into her mouth and as his hands explored, she arched toward him. His hand slid across her belly, then gently cupped the fullness of her breast, before his mouth and tongue began to tease her nipples.
“Chance!” she moaned, grasping the sides of his head, then caressing the strong tendons of his back.
His tongue trailed over every inch of her flesh, laving her swollen nipples, kissing the undersides of her breasts, delving into the sensitive area of her navel, until she felt she was about to fly off the bed. “I can’t take any more. Please!”
“You’re almost ready, angel,” he promised, lowering his head until it rested between her thighs. Positioning her legs over his shoulders, he opened her to him, searching out her most intimate of places with his tongue, tasting and teasing the engorged bud until her rapid, shallow breathing told him she was ready.
Easing himself over her, he inserted his finger into her opening, stretching the silky taut flesh to make his penetration easier. “Just relax,” he told her when she stiffened. “I’m going to go slowly.” Her response was an instant arching of her lower body that made him smile. She was definitely ready.
As he began to ease into her, the fire in her loins intensified until she thought she would burst into flames. She felt hot, incredibly hot; every nerve ending in her body tingled with yearning. Finally, with one final thrust he entered, and she knew a brief moment of pain, then felt herself expand to accommodate his large appendage. Thrusting her pelvis off the bed, she rose to meet him, moving as his hands encouraged and his body dictated.
“Oh, God! Oh, God!” she said, as the movements grew faster and more intense and she tried to reach that indefinable conclusion she knew awaited her. In and out he pumped, taking her higher and higher with every powerful stroke.
“That’s it.” He cupped her buttocks, demonstrating how she should move. “You’re almost there, angel.”
Music played in her head. Drums pounded out the rhythm. Violins strained to reach the crescendo. And then at last, in one blinding stroke, she hit the final note and sang out her completion. Chance climaxed simultaneously, and they both floated back down to a calmer place.
Cradling Laurel against his chest, Chance kissed her cheek tenderly, noting it was wet. Tears filled her eyes, and he immediately grew concerned. “Did I hurt you?”
She shook her head, smiling widely. “No. It was wonderful. More beautiful than I could ever have imagined.”
“Then why are you crying?”
“Because I’m so happy.”
He smiled tenderly and kissed her again, and his heart felt full to bursting. “You’ll stay the night?” He couldn’t let her go. Not now. Maybe not ever.
She trailed her finger down his chest to touch the part of him that gave her so much pleasure, grinning when he sucked in his breath. “Only if you promise we can do that again.”
“If I didn’t know better, angel, I’d say my little temperance worker was becoming a wanton woman.”
She stroked the hard length of him, watching his eyes darken with passion, and reveled in the power she felt. “Do you mind?”
He smiled slowly and shook his head. No, he didn’t mind one little bit.
* * *
It was nearly dawn when the horse-drawn street car dropped Laurel off in front of Mrs. Costello’s establishment. As quietly as she could, Laurel tiptoed into the two-story house, grateful for the silence that greeted her.
Apparently everyone was still asleep, but she knew that in a short while Mrs. Costello would begin preparations for the morning meal, and the kitchen and dining room would be humming with activity. The proprietress might be older than Methuselah, but she was punctual.
Laurel had just reached the stairway when Hortensia came barreling into the hallway wearing a threadbare plaid wool robe and a look of anger and disappointment. Drucilla, two steps behind her, looked smug, as only Drucilla could look. The younger woman smiled spitefully, and Laurel knew in that instant she’d been found out. Drucilla had probably wasted little time in informing Hortensia that Laurel hadn’t returned to their room last night.
“Laurel,” Hortensia said, holding the edges of her robe together, her mouth pinched in a frown. “Why are you returning home so late? And where have you been?”
“It’s obvious where she’s been Mrs. Tungsten. Just look at her—she’s positively glowing.”
Laurel’s cheeks filled with color, and she shot Drucilla a deadly look. “I stayed the night at the Aurora, as a guest of my friend Crystal. I deemed it too risky to come home after the trouble we had at the Silver Slipper, especially after everyone ran away like scared rabbits and left me alone to fend for myself.” Her comment was directed squarely at her roommate, who, she was certain, had run faster than the rest of her cohorts.
“If Mr. Rafferty hadn’t come to my rescue, I’m not sure what fate would have befallen me.” She wasn’t about to mention the one that had. Even now those memories stirred, turning her insides to mush.
“You’re bringing shame upon our entire group by fraternizing with whores and gamblers,” Drucilla claimed.
“At least I have friends to fraternize with, Drucilla Gottlieb, which is more than I can say for you. You’re just jealous because no one wants to be around your vicious tongue.”
Before Drucilla could reply, Hortensia stepped between the two women, holding up her hand. “Enough. Drucilla, please go upstairs and ready yourself for the day’s activities. Laurel, I would like to speak to you in private.”
“Of course, Mrs. Tungsten,” the young woman replied, her chin held stiffly in the air as she turned toward the stairs. “Laurel certainly needs a good talking to and that’s a fact.”
Hortensia bit her tongue at the snide remark and shook her head in dismay. “I’m not sure which one of you needs talking to the most. Please come into my office, Laurel.”
Laurel entered the spartan room and took a seat before the sturdy oak desk. Like Hortensia herself, the office was devoid of frivolous accoutrements or anything smacking of capriciousness. No shades of gray. Just black and white, right or wrong, and nothing in between.
“I’m sorry if I worried you, Hortensia, but I was perfectly safe at the Aurora.”
“My dear, you spent the night under the roof of a notorious gambler, and a man who is your intended. That was highly improper and will surely set tongues to wagging.”
“No one knows but you and Drucilla, and of course my friends at the saloon, and they’re known to be very discreet. I don’t believe my actions will be scrutinized.”
Hortensia stood and began pacing the room. “What we do here is very important
, Laurel. And we’ve been very pleased by your willingness to assist us in our cause. But your association with gamblers and prostitutes could ruin things for us.”
Laurel stiffened at the rebuke. “Isn’t my association with those people the very reason you hired me, Hortensia?”
The large woman paused before the window, nearly blocking out the morning sunshine. “I think it would be best if you stopped seeing Mr. Rafferty, Laurel.”
“Stop seeing Chance? That’s impossible, Hortensia.” She’d sooner ask the sun to stop shining, the birds to still their songs. “Chance has asked me to marry him. And as his fiancée, I couldn’t possibly abandon him to his vices. I’m sure you would agree that Mr. Rafferty is in need of saving more than any other man we’ve administered to thus far. Why, showing him the error of his ways will lead countless others to follow his example.”
Laurel watched Hortensia closely and could almost see the wheels of practicality turning in her head. Hortensia Tungsten was nothing if not practical, and she would do whatever she deemed necessary to make a go of the Denver Temperance and Souls in Need League, even if it meant putting up with a scoundrel like Chance Rafferty.
“You say Mr. Rafferty has declared himself?”
Doing her best to keep her face impassive, lest Hortensia see the reply for what it was—a bold-faced lie—Laurel nodded, wondering if she’d be struck down for the telling of it. But she knew that even if Chance hadn’t exactly declared himself, he was certain to now. Now that they’d made love. People didn’t enter into those kinds of relationships lightly; she knew deep down in her heart that he cared for her, even if he hadn’t said as much. Surely he would insist on making an honest woman of her.
The large woman folded her arms beneath her massive, sagging bosoms. “I guess under those circumstances it would be all right to continue your work toward reforming Mr. Rafferty. But there mustn’t be any more clandestine meetings. Your relationship must be above reproach. The eyes of Denver are upon you, Laurel, and you must set an example of what is virtuous and good for others to follow.”
Sweet Laurel Page 24