Timeless Passion: 10 Historical Romances To Savor

by Rue Allyn

  “Don’t do this to you. What nonsense.” She pushed his hands off her legs. “I’ve done nothing to you, Dutch Trahern, except survive the worst experience of my life. And you have the gall to take offense at that.”

  “You nearly died!”

  “Stop shouting. You’re hurting my ears.”

  He grasped her by the shoulders. “I love you, and you nearly died. Don’t you understand? I can’t live without you. You’re everything to me! Don’t put yourself at risk, because when you do you put us both at risk. Seeing you in that slippery tub scared me near to death.”

  “I’m sorry you were scared.” She cradled his face in her hands then drew him down for a kiss.

  He landed solidly atop her, twisting and bringing her atop him to keep her from being crushed.

  “Mmmm. I’ve wanted you for days, almost as much as I wanted that bath.”

  “We shouldn’t.” He started to push her away.

  “Yes, we should.” She rose, straddling his hips, feeling the proof of his arousal pressing against her through his trousers. She reached for the buttons on his shirt. “I need you, Dutch Trahern. To make me whole. Please. Make love with me.”

  “Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Only by turning me away now could you hurt me.” She placed her hands on the top button of his shirt.

  “I won’t turn you away, ever. But before we make love, I have to ask you one question.”

  She studied his somber expression. “Sounds serious but go ahead.”

  “Are you hoping that I’ll make you pregnant?”

  “What kind of question is that?” She was afraid she knew but wanted him to confirm her suspicions.

  “I searched your trunk for clues to where you might have gone before I knew you were abducted.”

  “You found the copy of my grandfather’s will. The will that I’m hoping can be changed once Kiera’s home.”

  He nodded.

  Once more she studied him, trying to decipher his feelings. Knowing he’d been hurt by what he read, she questioned the strength of the love he’d claimed moments ago. As Dutch must be questioning my love for him.

  “Will my answer stop you from loving me?”

  “Nothing could stop that.”

  “Then I’ll answer that question and any others when we’re done.”

  In a blink she had his shirt unbuttoned and spread it wide with the sweep of her hands over his chest.

  He shivered. “Lord, you make me feel good.”

  She leant down to nip at his ear. “I’m hoping we make each other feel good.”

  He pierced her with his gaze. “Your wish is my command.”

  In the next instant he levered upward and twisted. She landed flat on her back, legs spread and hanging over the edge of the mattress.

  Dutch stood between her knees. His fingers worked the buttons of his trousers.

  “Let me help.” She reached out.

  “Too late.” He released the last button, dropped his trousers, and his erection sprang free.

  “No, not soon enough.” Edith grasped the thick length of him and drew him to her.

  He kissed her, fondling her breasts and teasing her womanhood. Probing her entrance but never filling her.

  She ached to feel him at her core and know that go or stay he would love her like this always. “You’re torturing me.”

  “Does it feel good?”

  “You know it does.”

  “Then stop complaining.” He filled his mouth with her breast, suckling her to silence and finally to pleading.

  “Please, Dutch.”

  “Please what?”

  Please understand. My heart’s breaking; don’t let yours break, too. Caught in passion, she could say nothing but, “Please take me now.”

  “Not yet.”

  “But … ”

  He kissed her deeply, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, inviting her to suckle him. At the same moment he reached between them, stroking her most sensitive places.

  Tension surged like floodwaters, drowning every thought in an ocean of feeling. So much feeling, she could take no more.

  Then he pressed into her, diving to the depths of her core and wave upon wave of delight burst through her. An incoherent cry thundered above the maelstrom. She clung to him, needing him with her as she succumbed to pleasure.

  • • •

  “Even after you learned about that horrid will you still love me?” she asked later. The light of day faded from the window, and she snuggled into his embrace.

  “When I read those clauses about having a child in order to inherit, I was hurt. Too hurt to be angry. I was being used in exactly the same way that Cerise Duval had used me years ago, albeit for a different purpose. Then Tsung came with the news that you’d been abducted and nothing mattered but that I should be able to see you and touch you and talk to you. Find out if you intended to use me all along or, if at some point, you changed your mind and wanted not just sex but me.”

  “You got everything right, except that I had never intended to use you or any man. I found the will’s terms degrading and demeaning. My hope is to find Kiera so that we can present a united front when we face Grandfather or his lawyers over the terms of that will. Hiring a stud was my excuse for staying in Madame Duval’s bordello so I could get information about Kiera. When you rescued me I was furious, but the longer I knew you, the less I angry I became.”

  “I won’t forgive you for wanting me.” He grinned. “But can you forgive me for spoiling your plans?”

  “There’s nothing to forgive, because my plans aren’t spoiled.”

  “True, you have a husband who will happily supply you with as many children as you want.”

  “Don’t forget we agreed to annul this marriage before I leave San Francisco.” She sat up.

  “I grew up without a father. I won’t allow that to happen to any child of mine. You can’t possibly expect me to keep that agreement when you could be carrying my child right now.” Leaning against the headboard, Dutch tugged for her to come back to his arms.

  Edith moved further away. “I can if I don’t want to remain married.”

  “But you love me. You told me so the night of the fire.” Now he sat upright.

  She stepped from the bed and reached for her gown and wrapper. “Loving you doesn’t require that I turn my life over to you.”

  “I want be your husband, not make a slave out of you.” He got out of bed and stood on the opposite side.

  “Same thing, from where I stand.” She folded her arms across her chest.

  “That’s crazy.” He shoved his hands through his hair then grabbed his trousers, shucking them on as he moved.

  “Perhaps.” She turned away. “Since we missed dinner, I’m going to the kitchen for a snack.”

  She was out the door before he could protest.

  “This conversation isn’t over.”

  She hurried down the stairs. No the conversation wasn’t over, but she’d had enough for one night. Even when he joined her in the kitchen she refused to discuss it. “Not tonight, Dutch. We both need time to think before we make decisions about our marriage.” She handed him a sandwich while she nibbled on a sliced pear.

  He took a thoughtful bite of the sandwich, chewed, and swallowed. “So there’s hope that you may change your mind.”

  “I don’t know, and that’s all I’ll say. Now, not another word about the marriage or you’ll spend the night on the couch.” She wiped pear juice from her fingers. She didn’t want him on the couch, but she wouldn’t be pressured to remain married. She’d come to San Francisco to avoid that dread state.

  They cleaned up together, working in quiet harmony that belied the tension strung between his desire to remain married and her reluctance.

  In bed once again, she lay in his arms staring into the night, wishing she could have both Dutch and her freedom, fearing she would have neither.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  With D
utch and Marcus once more out working to get their goods on the market as quickly as possible, Edith spent a quiet morning plying her needle with Eileen.

  The front knocker sounded.

  Eileen looked up at the same moment as Edith. “Are you expecting callers?”

  A single set of footsteps echoed in the hallway as one of the servants answered the door.

  “Not that I know of,” replied her hostess.

  Two sets of steps marched toward the parlor.

  “This gentleman is asking to see Mr. Trahern, ma’am. He has Mr. Trahern’s card.”

  Edith looked up from her mending.

  The short, beetle-browed man had not a single hair on his head. His considerable belly preceded him into the room.

  “Please sit down, Mr … ” Eileen gestured toward a cushioned slipper chair.

  “Santiago, Mrs. Smiley. Adolfo Santiago, purveyor of artwork, photographs, and frames. I found Mr. Trahern’s card on the floor of my shop. I was called away unexpectedly two weeks ago, so I missed seeing him, and … well, I mean everyone in San Francisco knows the firm of Trahern-Smiley. I hoped — that is I do not want to miss an opportunity to do business with Mr. Trahern.”

  “Unfortunately, neither Mr. Trahern nor my husband are presently at home. Since neither of them told me to expect you, I don’t know how I may help you.”

  “I can,” announced Edith. “In fact I was the one who left Mr. Trahern’s card at your shop. I hoped that you would find it and come to see him, just as you have.”

  “Why did you visit my shop ma’am?”

  “I believe you have framed some photographs for F. Lyn Whitson.”

  The framer’s ruddy color paled, sweat beaded on his forehead, and he chewed on his lower lip.

  “Oh yes. An artist,” Santiago enthused. “Do you know the photographer?”

  Edith hoped Adolfo Santiago didn’t gamble because he was a very poor actor. His entire demeanor shouted that he knew of Kiera, but if Edith were a gambler, she’d lay money that the framer knew something about the murder her of which sister stood accused. “I’m familiar with Whitson’s work and hoped you could tell me how to contact the artist.”

  “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but Whitson was murdered several months ago.”

  Edith looked the man squarely in the eye. “Come now, Mr. Santiago, you and I both know that the man who was murdered was not F. Lynn Whitson.”

  “I know nothing of the kind.”

  Edith tried a different approach. “You frame pornographic photographs for Madame Duval, do you not?”

  “I would never … ”

  “Denial would be useless as I have several such photographs in my possession with your mark on the frames.”

  The framer swallowed. “If I agreed that those photographs were framed in my shop, what would you do with the information?”

  “That would depend on what you know about Whitson and where the photographer can be found.” Edith gave a toothy smile.

  “Since he is dead, he would be found in a graveyard.”

  “That’s a pity. I would have paid five double eagles for the photographer’s last known address. If the photographer were still alive that is.”

  Santiago’s eyes saucered.

  Eileen turned her head to stare at Edith then looked back at their guest. “A person could do a lot with one hundred dollars,” she contributed.

  “Yes indeed,” croaked the framer. He fiddled with his collar as if the band had suddenly grown too tight. “Perhaps you are right and the man who was murdered was mistaken for Whitson. Now that I think of it, I have a record of my most recent transaction with Whitson dated just last month.”

  “Then Whitson must be alive.” Edith continued to smile.

  “The information you want should be in that record.”

  Edith nodded. “A good businessman always keeps thorough records. You must be an excellent businessman.”

  Santiago preened. “I’ll have to return to the shop, but I should be able to send the address around before close of business today.”

  “That would be most appreciated. Mr. Santiago, as an excellent businessman, you would never pay in full until you verified the value of a purchase, would you?”

  “Of course not.” The man gave a slight twist to his shoulders and pursed his lips. “Fifty percent down is standard practice as a deposit in San Francisco.”

  “Then you’ll understand that when I receive the address, I will send you fifty dollars as a deposit. You’ll receive the other fifty if your information leads me to Whitson.”

  “But that’s … ”

  “You did say fifty percent is standard practice. Since I’m not from San Francisco, I’ll check with Mr. Trahern when he returns. I’m certain he’ll confirm your figure.”

  The framer fingered his collar once more. “Ah, perhaps you should only send thirty dollars. I wouldn’t want to take advantage of your eagerness.”

  “Why thank you, Mr. Santiago, you are most kind.” Edith smiled once more and extended her hand to him. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.”

  Frowning, he took her hand and bowed. “The, uh, pleasure has been mine.”

  “Goodbye, Mr. Santiago.”

  Eileen rose. “I’ll see you to the door.”

  “No need, Mrs. Smiley.”

  “I insist.”

  He bowed his head then left.

  Eileen trailed behind him.

  Edith paced before the window when her friend returned.

  Eileen collapsed in her chair and succumbed to giggles. “That was priceless. Where in the world did you learn to manipulate a man like that? You could give Duval lessons.”

  “He was rather easy to impress, wasn’t he?”

  “And so impressed with himself that he willingly let you set your own price.”

  “If only Dutch were that easy to manage.” Hollow with the knowledge that she and Dutch were destined to live apart, Edith let her shoulders drop.

  “Managing a man is never easy when you’re in love with him.”

  “Am I so obvious?”

  Eileen shrugged. “Dutch loves you, too. Why won’t you forget this annulment nonsense? He’s a good man.”

  “I know he loves me, and he’s the best of men.”

  “Then why not stay married?”

  Edith didn’t know how to explain. “Let’s just say it would be for the wrong reasons.”

  “I don’t know how marriage between two people who love each other could be for the wrong reasons. Changing your mind is Dutch’s job, but if you want to talk, I’ll be happy to listen.”

  “Thanks. You’re a good friend.” She hugged the woman then sat to resume the mending.

  Several hours later, Tsung entered the room carrying a folded paper. “Missee, this note come for you.”

  As Tsung left, Edith took the paper, broke the seal, and read. She sat abruptly. “Oh my.”

  “What is it?”

  “Missee okay? ”

  “I’m fine. The framer, Mr. Santiago, sent the address I requested.”

  “The one for the photographer?”

  “Yes.” Edith stared at the note, memorizing the information. Kiera’s last known location was an Army outpost in the Wyoming Territory. Edith folded the paper and tucked it securely in her bodice, wondering how soon she could arrange to travel to Wyoming.

  “Edith,” Eileen said in a shocked whisper. “Since when is an address so intimate a message?”

  Thinking of Kiera and the danger that still lurked from Cerise Duval, Edith shook her head. “I can’t discuss it, so please don’t ask.”

  “I thought you trusted me,” said Eileen, affronted.

  “I do. But I need to think things through first. I promise I’ll talk with you about this as soon as I know my own mind.”

  “Very well, but if you can’t tell me, you should at least consider telling Dutch. Now, I must discuss dinner with the cook, so I’ll leave you to your thoughts.”

  Ed
ith resumed her mending. Much as she loved Dutch, she couldn’t remain married to him, especially when she had to leave for Wyoming.

  She thought for a long time about why she was insisting on the annulment. But she’d seen Dutch in action at the Trahern-Smiley shop. He loved buying, and selling, and making sure he got the best deal. Assuming the will was changed, marriage to her was a very good deal. Would she always wonder why he married her? What if she was wrong? Dutch claimed he didn’t care about her money or status in Boston, or the requirement to have a child in order to inherit. All he wanted was to be her husband, and all she wanted was her independence. She believed — had always believed — that marriage and a woman’s independence were mutually exclusive. She couldn’t have both. Since her abduction, she’d sampled the happiness and contentment that came with loving Dutch — would she give all that up because she feared the commitments and obligations required by marriage. Happiness like that she shared with Dutch was rare and should be well worth the risk. But what if marriage destroyed the joy? That risk she would not take. Tonight she would announce her decision to follow Kiera to Wyoming. She would talk to Dutch about the annulment then.

  • • •

  “Let’s take our coffee in the parlor,” suggested Eileen when they finished dinner.

  “Excellent idea, my dear. Dutch and I have a lot to tell you about the temporary store.”

  “I’d like to hear more from Trey about his work for Pinkertons.” Dutch bent a long look at his brother, who’d returned with them from the wharf and was finally beginning to go without his sling.

  “I can’t say much. Everything is confidential so the clients can trust us.”

  “We understand, Trey. I’ve got an announcement of my own that may cause some discussion,” said Edith.

  Eileen cast her an arch look. “Then we’d best move to the parlor. With so much to talk about, we’ll be up half the night.”

  Once seated in the parlor, Edith faced Dutch, his brother, and friends. She’d thought announcing her departure would be a simple thing. Now that the time had come, the words clogged her throat.

  “You said at dinner that you had something to tell us,” prompted Eileen.