by Caroline Lee
Yeah, she was prickly and opinionated, and Hart had fallen hard for her.
And here she was, sitting on his lap. Only, she thought it was the lap of a notorious vigilante, didn’t she? She’d called him Black Ace, the ridiculous nickname the townspeople had given him after he’d started his nighttime missions. As far as she knew, he was a dangerous lunatic, and in true Regina Vickers style, she was lecturing him.
He snorted slightly as he let the gelding open up. There’d been no sound of pursuit yet, but it was only a matter of time. Augustus King was an iron-fisted tyrant, and the killing of one of his men wasn’t going to go unpunished. In fact, Hart hoped King sent men after him, because it meant he’d be leaving the townspeople alone. But it was more likely he’d have his goons tear apart a few of the remaining businesses, owned by people who weren't all that fond of him, in the guise of searching for his enemy.
Me.
Maybe he ought to go back and let King’s men see him, just to draw their attention. Maybe—
No.
No, he had Regina Vickers sitting on his lap right now, and his number-one priority, outside of even the Stueben baby, was getting her to safety. He’d worry about the rest of the town later.
“So Mr. Ace—can I call you that?—why exactly am I sitting on your lap?”
Behind his mask, Hart allowed himself to grin. “Seemed like the thing to do at the time.” He tugged the reins and the gelding turned easterly. “Stilton was about to shoot you, and King’s men would’ve asked what you were doing lurking around Gomez’s store at one in the morning, dressed all in black. Especially if Stilton is dead.”
“Don’t be silly. I would’ve acted terribly surprised and scared. Mr. King thinks I’m little more than a silly child already.”
He grunted. “And the black dress at one in the morning?”
“Maybe I was visiting my lover.”
His brows went up. He was almost certain she was being facetious, but if he’d ever met a woman who knew her own mind and her own desires well enough to take a lover, it’d be Regina Vickers. And strangely, the thought made him…warm. And acutely aware she was not just in his arms, but nestled in his lap.
“Don’t think Mrs. Gomez would appreciate that,” was all he said, and that had been more than he’d intended.
She made a little noise, which might’ve been a tut, but also might’ve been accidental. She was hanging on to the saddle horn with one hand, her knee wrapped around it, but she was still being bounced around as the horse made a wide loop around the town to the south.
“I wasn’t—oof—actually meeting a lover, Mr. Ace. So you’re saying—oh!—you took me to protect— Listen, do you mind if we slow down a bit?”
“No can do, lady,” he said with a smirk. The horse wasn’t moving all that fast really, because of the darkness, but he was still pushing him as much as he safely could.
He needed to get to the east side of town to drop her as close to her house—the one he’d been contemplating jumping to just twenty minutes ago—before King organized pursuit and saw her with him. Then he had a limited amount of time to get the medicine out to the Stuebens and clear his trail.
“Well then,” she huffed.
And to his surprise, she twisted and unhooked her knee from the horn, grinding her butt against his thighs as she did, and actually turned towards him. In fact, she wrapped her arms around his middle and pressed her cheek against his chest. Now, his hand which held the reins cradled her back, and her legs were thrown over his right thigh.
Hart held himself as still as humanly possible and willed the part of him which was enjoying this a little too much to remember what exactly was going on.
Life or death, remember?
It didn’t help. He was holding his breath, and his mind just wanted to focus on one sensation at a time.
Regina Vickers has her arms around me!
She smelled like some kind of flower. Lavender, maybe? Roses? He didn’t know much about flowers, but it was nice. Lady-like, but not too delicate either. Like her.
“Mr. Ace?” she said from somewhere in the region of his heart. “Don’t forget to breathe.”
That did it. He slowed the horse as they neared the river, and as the animal waded into the shallows, Hart began to chuckle. He just couldn’t help it.
She straightened, but didn’t let go of him. Was she still worried about falling off? Or did she maybe…like the feeling of holding?
“What? Why are you laughing?”
“Because you’ve just been kidnapped by a notorious vigilante, he’s carting you off to God-knows-where, and you’ve got the guts to sit here and boss him around.”
She clicked her tongue. “Do you always talk about yourself in third person? No, don’t answer that. First of all, you didn’t kidnap me, you saved me. Second of all…”
When she dropped her arms from around his waist, Hart felt a little colder. Not that it wasn’t already frigid out here to begin with, but having her arms around him, having her in his lap, definitely made things warmer.
“Second of all, Mr. Ace, I can see the town over there. I’m assuming we circled south, and by walking in the river, we’re confusing any trail. That likely means you’re attempting to return me to my home before you take that quinine to poor little Josiah.”
He hummed in agreement, already peering at the distant buildings, trying to see if there was any movement on this side of town. But her comment reminded him of her part in all this.
“You’re really the one who drops off the medicine behind Gomez’s?”
“Since Mr. King put my father under his so-called ‘protection,’ yes. Mr. Gomez gives me your note, Papa helps choose the appropriate medicine, and I drop it off.”
“Except for tonight.”
She huffed and crossed her arms. “I think Mr. King might suspect something. He knows my father would never be so blasé about not being able to help sick people. Papa would be going mad if we didn’t have a way to get medicine to the Stuebens. But we do, thanks to you.”
That last part had been almost shy. Not like her at all.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Hart shifted in the saddle, embarrassed. “Nah, thank you. You and Doc are the ones saving people. I’m just delivering the medicine.”
“It shouldn’t be an issue at all,” Regina whispered, her breath making white clouds in the air.
No, it shouldn’t. But the law was on King’s side, and Hart liked living too much to do something stupid, like challenge King directly.
He tightened his hold on her and kicked the horse into motion once more, trotting silently up the bank towards Black Aces.
They slipped into town from the east, following the back sides of several buildings, until he came to the old boarding house and the Vickers’ home on the other side. Hart cocked his head, listening carefully for any sounds of danger. There were a lot more voices than should be for one in the morning, but they were coming from the direction of the sheriff’s office and the Three Queens Saloon.
He swung down, then reached up for her.
“You gonna be alright here, Miss Vickers?” he barely whispered, still holding onto her waist.
When she tilted her face back, the weak moonlight reflected off her pale skin. So different from his own. So delicate.
“Yes. But…”
That’s when he realized she was gripping his upper arms. As if she didn’t want to let go either.
“Yeah?” he whispered.
“I’ve admired you for a long time, Mr. Black Ace, and I’ve often— My goodness, that certainly is a silly name, isn’t it? I’ve seen the way you sign the letters you leave behind the store, with the black ace.”
He snorted slightly in agreement. “Wasn’t my idea. Someone got it into their head I needed a name. I guess that one made sense, since I’m the one helping the townsfolk of Black Aces.”
“Yes, and because ‘Savior of Our Town’ was too much of a mouthful.”
Wha
t he did didn’t seem as if it were that big of a deal to him, but her praise warmed him again. Made him stand taller. “I’m only doing what needs doing,” he whispered, repeating what he’d told Pony many times.
To his surprise, she patted his upper arm. “Yes, and that makes you remarkable,” she whispered in return.
He shifted his weight, wanting to push her towards her back porch, uncomfortable with her saying such nice things about him, but at the same time totally unwilling to let her go.
“Mr. Ace,” she murmured, stretching up on her tiptoes, “I’ve always wondered…”
Instinctively, he found himself leaning towards her, bringing his covered lips closer to hers. “Yeah?”
“Well, with you being a town hero and all…”
She was close enough her words and breath moved the bandana in front of his mouth. His arms shook with the effort of not pulling her closer, crushing her to him, feeling her softness pressed against him, yanking down this stupid cloth and kissing her the way he’d been dreaming about kissing her for years.
“I’d give my eye teeth to know who you really are,” she finished.
It was as if she’d dumped a bucket of ice cold water on his head. All of a sudden, the night air felt colder, creeping down the neckline of his duster. And the men’s voices from across town seemed louder, reminding him of the danger.
Danger which was more than just King’s goons. Danger in letting anyone know who he was under the mask.
So he stepped back, letting her go, and forcing her to drop her hold on his arms. Touching the brim of his hat, he murmured, “You’d better get along and let your pa know you’re safe.”
Her hands landed on her hips, and while it was impossible to see her actual expression, Hart didn’t have any trouble imagining her frown. But she just huffed quietly and turned, pausing only a moment to peer down the mouth of the alley towards town, before darting for her home. She flowed up the steps and crossed the porch to the door, slipping through quieter than a shadow, and Hart was impressed.
She had a real knack for this sneaking-around and rule-breaking stuff. He was glad she was on his side, for more than one reason.
But his gloved hand tightened into a fist, remembering how it felt to hold her. Miss Regina Vickers was desirable as hell, but she had a wicked sharp mind, and he’d do well to remember that.
A beautiful woman has been many man’s downfall, Grandson.
He rolled his eyes at Pony’s voice and turned once more for his gelding. The bag with the quinine was still hanging from the saddle, and the Stueben baby needed him.
Or rather, he needed the Black Ace. And until his town quit needing him, Hart was bound to remain the Black Ace, which meant not letting anyone know who he truly was.
Two
Despite her lack of sleep the night before, Regina grinned cheerfully at her father when he offered his arm to escort her down their front steps. Of course, she could manage a few stairs by herself—and had!—but it made him happy to care for her, so she let him. Besides, it didn’t hurt her mission for Mr. King to think she was little more than a pampered socialite.
Speak of the devil…
“Doctor! Miss Vickers!” Augustus King called in an overly cheerful voice as he approached from the direction of the saloon. “Out for a walk on this fine autumn day?”
Regina kept her smile plastered on as Papa turned to greet the unofficial—and unwanted—mayor of their town. The man was handsome, in an oily sort of way, and was always dressed to the nines in the latest Eastern fashions. Today, his mustache was freshly waxed and the silver tip of his cane glittered in the sun.
And the way he grinned at her—as if she were a fluffy rodent and he a snake—made her skin crawl. Though the snake part was actually quite accurate.
Papa though, bless him, was not a natural at this espionage. “Uh, yes. Yes, a walk,” he stammered.
She smoothly stepped in. “We’re on our way to the livery. I thought I might go visit my friends this morning, and Papa kindly offered to assist me in hooking up the cariole.”
“Your friends?” King frowned.
“Mrs. Ryan at Sunset Valley Ranch. Sweet little Faith is colicky, you know, and she has her hands full with Hope toddling around as well.”
King waved his hand—clad in gray kid-skin—dismissively, and the thought reminded Regina of another gloved hand, black and strong and capable.
No, better not think of him.
Instead, she focused on King, who was good at dismissing anything he thought below him. Like the Ryans, who, being so far out of town, didn’t kowtow to him. Of course, not everyone in town did either, but those that didn’t give into his demands often learned to regret it.
After Mr. King strolled into Black Aces several years ago, he produced documentation claiming part of the town itself rested on land belonging to the Bicycle Mine. But because he was a fair man—his words—he wouldn’t charge back-rent from the businessmen and homeowners who’d built on his property. Even Widow Hoyle had admitted her husband’s property had included part of the town site, but he hadn’t minded, since Black Aces had sort of grown up naturally around the bend in the river.
Still, it had been news to most of the town when the lawyer Van Hoosen had hired substantiated Mr. King’s claims. The businessmen might’ve fought him—in court and out—except that Augustus King had enough money to hire muscle. And those goons of his were always watching for dissent. Anyone who so much as hinted standing up to Mr. King’s unfair rents ended up victims of mysterious fires. And more than a few businesses had just closed their doors and left, leaving Black Aces with a population almost half what it used to be.
Thanks to the man who just gave Regina a little bow. “I just stopped by to check on both of you after the ruckus last night. I trust you weren’t disturbed?”
She affected a confused expression and turned to her father. “I did hear something in the middle of the night—a loud noise or two and some shouting?—but I just rolled over and fell back asleep. What about you, Papa?”
“Oh, um, yes. Very sound sleeper, you know.”
King hummed. “Are you certain? This would’ve been around one in the morning.”
Her laugh was airy and bright. “Why, Mr. King, what do you think I would’ve been doing awake at such an hour?” She remembered last night how boldly she’d told him she’d simply claim to be meeting her lover and managed not to blush.
When his dark eyes narrowed, Regina worried she’d given herself away. But his tone wasn’t accusatory, just…angry.
“That lawless jackal snuck into my town last night, Miss Vickers, and killed a man practically on your doorstep.”
She didn’t have to fake the gasp which escaped her, but it wasn’t because of surprise at Stilton’s death. No, it was the hard glint of fury in Mr. King’s eyes.
“Killed, you say? Are you sure?” She turned to her father. “Papa! Did you treat any gunshot wounds last night?”
Papa blustered, “No, I—” before King interrupted him.
“There was no need to bring Stilton to you, when any fool could see he needed the undertaker,” he snapped. But then his voice softened to his usual polite manner. “I was just deeply concerned about you, my dear. To have such a thing happen right here in town, after I have offered you my personal protection, is just unconscionable.”
Personal protection? More like arrest. Since King had been “protecting” Papa, he wasn’t allowed out of the house without one of King’s goons following him—wasn’t that Burton watching from across the street even now?—and coming up with firm excuses to steer him away from those in need who hadn’t bowed quickly enough to King’s demands.
Her father was a good man, and a good doctor. But he also knew what going up against Augustus King would mean, not just to him, but to a town left without a doctor. Winter was coming, and Black Aces needed him.
Even those King didn’t approve of.
And that’s where Regina came in. As long as Mr
. King thought she was a flighty bit of uselessness, as long as he was more enamored with her smooth skin, perfect coiffures, and pretty smiles—and he was—she’d be free to help all those her father wasn’t able to.
So she smiled harder, making sure none of her true feelings reached her eyes. “I feel quite safe, Mr. King. Please don’t worry.”
“I do worry, my dear.” He leaned closer, back to looking like a man who’d seen a delicious treat. “And to that end, I’ve instructed Sheriff McNelis to send off for some extra help.”
Oh good. More goons.
But Regina pretended confusion. “Oh?”
He leaned even closer, as if imparting a secret. “I have it on high authority a US Marshal will be on his way here to our quaint little town any day now, with instructions to hunt down this masked criminal and ensure he gets what he deserves.”
Dispassionately, Regina noted King never called the Black Ace by his name. Of course, to be fair, it was the name the townspeople called their savior behind King’s back. Even the man himself had admitted—
No. She needed to keep her attention on the viper in front of her, not her nighttime encounter.
The man was peering at her, as if expecting her approval, and she couldn’t even risk glancing at Papa to get his thoughts. So she just nodded demurely. “I have confidence, Mr. King.”
“Please,” he said suavely, his dark eyes flicking between hers, “I’ve asked you to call me Augustus.”
In the recesses of her mind, Regina said a not-very-nice word indeed. But all she murmured was, “Of course.”
Immediately, King straightened, his hand going to his hat brim with a polite nod and smile. “Doctor, Miss Vickers, good day to you both. I’ll just have Mr. Burton here escort you to the livery, shall I?”
Without waiting for their approval, he gestured to Burton, who straightened from his lounge and began to amble towards them. Then Mr. King dipped his head in acknowledgment and headed towards his office at that sort of hurried stroll he was so good at, swinging his cane as he went.