“Well I wish you luck, and hope I’ll have the pleasure of meeting her someday.”
“Not likely.”
Nat chuckled, plopping down in an oak armchair against the wall. He’d forgotten how possessive Christopher could be when it came to women. “I’m wounded. You act as though I’m a skirt chaser like Holt.”
“You don’t have to chase them.” Christopher sent him a long look. “They leap into your bed without asking.”
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, they roll out the other side just as fast.”
Christopher turned around to lean against the polished, wooden wheel, fondling the end of one spoke like the leg of a woman. “I take it you never married again?”
“Haven’t had time.” The last thing on his mind was marriage.
“Well, I didn’t suppose this was a social call. You were always all work and no play. I guess you’re looking for the Everetts. I wish I could tell you that I’ve seen them, but I haven’t. Anyway, what makes you think they’d show up here?”
Nat shrugged. “Just a hunch. The Belle has always been the best gambling spot in town.”
Christopher raised a brow. “A little high class for the Everetts, don’t you think?”
“Billy can clean up when he wants to. In fact, he considers himself a real lady’s man.”
“I’ll keep an eye out, but I can’t promise anything. I don’t know if I’d recognize him. There were plenty of posters plastered around after one of Maggie’s girls got killed in Sacramento. But at the time, such things were an everyday occurrence, and like most people my memory is short when it comes to those things.”
Nat kept his voice as casual as he could. If Christopher was possessive about women, he was twice as possessive about his boat. “Well, if you don’t mind, we’ll just have a quick look around.”
Christopher relinquished his hold on the wheel to stand ramrod straight, like a soldier preparing to guard the fort. “Look, I don’t want any trouble tonight. There’s a dance going on later in the ballroom. At least twenty guests are awaiting me right now. So I’d appreciate it if you’d save any shooting until you get on dry land.”
Nat came to his feet, giving a short nod. “I’ll do my best.”
Christopher reached the door before Nat could turn the knob. “What the hell does that mean?”
“If they’re here, we’ll wait and grab them when they leave the boat — if we can. If we can’t, we’ll do whatever we can to see that none of your passengers get hurt.”
“No. Not if you can’t. Do you know how much it cost me the last time a fight broke out? Two hundred dollars. Do you know how many people I have to cart up and down this river to make two hundred dollars? A shit load. That’s how many. I am this close to paying off my father’s loan and buying another boat, and if you and that whore-chasing hound screws it up, by God, I’ll take it out of your hide.”
Nat laughed. He’d forgotten how hotheaded Christopher got when anything stood in the way of his goals. “Not to worry, I’m quite capable of paying for any damages.”
“That’s right, you are.” Christopher huffed a loud sigh, seeming to pull himself together. “Good. Now if you don’t mind, my guests are waiting.” He pulled the door opened. “Unless you need something else — like the shirt off my back or my first born child?”
But before either one of them could take a step, Nat heard a familiar female voice. “Captain Jackson, I’d like to report a robbery.”
Nat went as stiff as a corpse.
Then, his shock and disbelief subsided to be replaced by a fierce simmering rage.
Christie!
Not again!
Not here.
Not now — when he was so damn close.
She appeared just as shocked to see him. In fact, the sight of him had apparently rendered her speechless. Her cheeks went pink and her caramel eyes luminous below the mass of honey-gold curls swept high on her head.
“Please, come in.” Christopher swept his arm in a gallant welcome. “Allow me to introduce an old acquaintance.”
“Miss Wallace and I have met.”
• • •
Christie’s breath caught in her throat. Her knees trembled, threatening to give out beneath the skirt of her teal blue silk gown. Had she been made of weaker stuff, she might have fallen into a swoon.
No, no, no!
It couldn’t true.
What was Nat doing here, just when she’d finally succeeded in thrusting him from her mind? She wanted to scream with vexation. Instead, she pushed the impulse down, managing a tight smile. “Mr. Randall, how lovely to see you again.”
Captain Jackson’s jaw appeared to slacken. “You know each other?”
Nat took her by the arm, demanding through gritted teeth, “What are you doing here?”
She flitted from his grasp to take a step closer to the Captain. “I’m here to report a robbery.”
“Now what is all of this about a robbery?” The Captain came forward to take her by the hand with a look of concern. “Are you sure you aren’t mistaken? Perhaps you’ve mislaid your valuables without realizing it somehow?”
“You know what I mean,” Nat said, as though the captain hadn’t spoken.
She ignored his hot gaze, folding her hands in front of her to keep them from trembling. “Quite sure. The money was in the bottom of my trunk this morning, and now it’s gone.”
“What money?” Nat demanded. “You didn’t have any money?”
She tilted her chin, saying in airy tones, “The money my father wired to Sacramento for my train ride home.” There, that felt good. Let him chew on that for a while. He wasn’t the only one who could just up and leave without saying goodbye.
An evening breeze filtered through the window, but she could barely breathe in the crackling silence that followed.
Nat’s eyes narrowed to blue ice.
The whisper of a chill ran up her back.
“Have you spoken to anyone else about this?” Captain Jackson inquired with gentle solicitude. “The porter, your cousin, perhaps?”
“Leigh? You’re here with Leigh?” Nat gave sardonic snort. “That explains it. You might want to question him about your money before you start scouring the boat.”
“Now look here!” Captain Jackson cut in. “There’s no need to be insulting.”
Christie opened her mouth to deny it, but any words she might have uttered in Leigh’s defense seemed to stick in her throat. Leigh. Why hadn’t she thought of that? Perhaps she had, but hadn’t wanted to believe it. Still, there was no need to alert the captain to her family’s shortcomings. “Perhaps you’re right. My coming here may have been a bit premature.” She inclined her head. “If you will excuse me, gentlemen. I’ll return to my cabin and make a more thorough search.”
Before she could reach it, Nat was before her opening the door. “I’ll help.”
She slashed him a frosty glare. “That won’t be necessary.”
“Now look here,” the captain blustered. “If anyone should help, it should be me.
Nat’s lip curled in a half-snarl. “Stay out of this, Christopher!”
The captain stiffened, and for a moment Christie feared he might salute. Instead of waiting to see what their confrontation produced, she slipped out the door ahead of them.
Men!
Was she not the one in distress?
Well, they could glare each other to stone for all she cared.
She had to find that money.
“Not so fast.” Nat caught up with her before she was half way down the deck, capturing her arm in a firm grip. She had little choice but to halt. “I’d like a word with you.”
“There’s nothing to say.” She made to move past him.
His grip tightened. “Oh
, yes there is. First of all you might try explaining what you’re doing here, on this boat.”
“Leigh came for me, to bring me home. It’s not as though I could stay at Dos Almas forever.” She waited, heart pounding fast, hoping he’d say something. When he didn’t, she said, “We had some time before my train leaves, that’s all.”
“I want you out of here now,” Nat ground out.
“Well, I’m afraid that isn’t possible, or weren’t you listening. But why am I explaining all of this to you?” She twisted from his grasp. “You of all people should not be concerned with what I do.”
Just then she spied Holt sauntering toward them.
Nat must have spotted him as well. He turned in Holt’s direction at the sound of his spurred boots.
“They’re here.” Holt said.
Christie didn’t wait to hear more. She couldn’t have hoped for a more timely diversion if she’d planned it herself.
She fled down the deck, eager to escape the cool depths of Nat’s searching gaze.
Her pace increased as she started down the steps of the companionway. Part of her rejoiced, like a rabbit finding the safety of its hole. The other part rebelled, sending a painful obstruction to her throat and causing her eyes to prick with tears.
Why must he be here?
Why now, when she was most vulnerable — money gone, so far from home? Destiny seemed to laugh, throwing her at his feet in her weakest state. She stuck her key in the lock of her cabin door. But it would not turn. “Merciful heavens!”
She glanced up to find Nat coming toward her with purposeful strides. Damn!
She wiggled the key up and down and back and forth.
“Need some help?” he drawled close to her ear.
“No.” She wiggled it again. It clicked. “Thank you, I have it.”
But when she made to shut the door behind her, it came up against the toe of his finely stitched boot. “Let me in, Christie.”
“Why?” She could hear her voice tremble, despite all efforts to stay calm. “What do you want?”
“Come on. Let me in. I don’t have much time.”
“Good.” She gave the door a hard shove. “Because, I haven’t any time at all.”
He cursed under his breath. “Look, we need to talk.”
“I can’t think of a thing I’d like to say to you right now.” She beamed him a syrupy smile. “As a matter of fact, I’m rather busy. So, if you’d be so kind as to remove your foot from my door.”
“You won’t have to say a thing.”
She hesitated. Had he come to apologize? Their parting at the ranch had been less than amiable. Her heart thudded madly, torn between wanting him to stay and fearing his presence might break through the protective wall around her.
But, who was she kidding? It was too late. He’d chinked a hole in her defenses the moment she set eyes on him in the wheelhouse. Even now, his powerful magnetism seeped through the crack in the door, pouring inside, making the breach in her defenses wider and wider.
“Very well, but you’ll have to make it quick. I have more important things than your conscience to deal with right now.”
He pushed his way in, then lounged against the door with his arms folded across his chest. The suite, which was larger than most of the cabins aboard the Belle, seemed to shrink with the top of his head nearly reaching the ceiling and his chest spanning half the width of the door.
“My conscience?” The soft timbre of his voice flitted along her spine.
She drew a long cleansing breath. “Yes, I assume that’s why you’re here.”
“Oh, so we’re going to play that game are we?”
“What game? I’m not playing any game. You’re the one following me, remember!”
“I’m not here to apologize, if that’s what you think. Besides, it’s a little late for regrets. Maybe you should have thought of that before you offered yourself to me in the barn.”
“Offered myself?” What was he talking about? “I didn’t offer myself! It just … happened.”
“And now you’ve changed your mind and you want me to take responsibility for what happened — do the right thing. Is that it?”
“Of course I haven’t changed my mind. Stop putting words in my mouth.” Try as she might, she couldn’t keep the hint of bitterness from her voice. “I don’t expect you to do anything.”
Hollow laughter burst from his lips. “You’re such a bad liar. Maybe you don’t hold me responsible, but you want me to feel responsible — say that I’m sorry. But I won’t.” He came slowly toward her, his sapphire gaze locked on hers. “I gave you the chance to stop.”
“Would you have?” The closer he came, the harder her heart pounded. “If I’d asked?”
A little muscle worked in his cheek. “I would have tried.” He chuckled. “But I’m no saint. If you’d picked up your skirts and run for the house right then, things might have turned out differently. But you didn’t, did you?”
“No.”
“Should I say I’m sorry for that?”
“No,” she breathed, wishing he would stop staring at her mouth. I will never be sorry, she thought, remembering the silky caress of his lips. A potent languor took hold, hard to resist, pulling her closer to what she wanted — to taste him, to touch him, to feel his arms wrapped tight around her.
The sound of laughter beyond the cabin door shattered the stillness, causing the intoxicating feeling to float away.
He took a step back. “I have to go.”
Reality seeped in, lifting her from the dream. She wanted to pull him back, make him stay, but pride kept her from speaking the words to keep him there. How was it that a single look from him could feel so powerful, as though he’d touched her with his hands? She took a long shuddering breath. “I have to find my money.”
Nat pinned her with a scorching look. “You’re not going anywhere. Do you hear me? I want you to stay in this cabin and bolt the door.”
“Why?”
“Because Billy Everett is downstairs in the saloon playing a game of poker.”
Her stomach lurched.
The Everetts.
Here?
Her legs began to tremble. So that was what Holt meant. “Why don’t you notify the sheriff?”
“Captain Jackson is in the process of doing that right now. In the meantime, I want you here, safe. Do you understand? I don’t want you getting in the way.”
Her mouth went dry. “You’re going to kill him, aren’t you?”
He gave her a long slow look, then headed for the door.
The door closed.
Christie stood, for what seemed an eternity, staring at the closed door, willing it to open and for him to walk through it again.
Then slowly, she came to the realization he wouldn’t. She remembered feeling that way once before, the last time he’d left to chase after the Everetts. But this time it was different — more urgent, mixed with a cold dread, like the time she’d watched Evie fall out of a tree and there was nothing she could do to stop her.
Christie moved away with a shuddering sigh, her throat tight — heart clutching in her breast.
Why did she go on torturing herself, worrying about him when he didn’t return her feelings? He didn’t care if she was safe, as long as she stayed out of his way. There was only room for one thing in his life — revenge. And he wouldn’t let anything or anyone get in his way.
She had to get home — away from this whole mess — away from Nat Randall for good.
But in order to do that, she must find her money. She couldn’t get home without it.
She went to her bedchamber in search her trunk, hoping by some miracle she’d been mistaken. When she finished, the trunk was empty, contents scattered about the floor — hoops, crinolines
, gowns everywhere, but not a coin to be had.
What could she do?
How would she get home? If only she’d bought a train ticket in advance. Traveling expenses had been more costly than she expected.
The prospect of wiring her father for more money was too much to bear.
The Captain had promised to question the porters, but if no other thefts had been reported, the chances were slim that a thief had snuck on board — other than the one sharing her cabin.
She had to find Leigh.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“What are you doin’?”
“What do you mean, what am I doin’?” Cecil put his hands on his hips, striking a sassy pose. “I got me a disguise, just like you said.”
Billy pulled away from the saloon door, shaking his head. If stupid had a name, it was Cecil. “I told you to get one of them porter uniforms, not dress yourself up like a female.”
“What difference does it make, as long as I get inside the rooms?” Cecil looked more confused than angry. “I’m not goin’ dancin’ at the ball or anything.”
“It’s a good thing, ’cause you are the ugliest woman I have ever laid eyes on.”
“Well, pardon me for not bein’ born with an angel face like yours.”
Billy made a swipe with the back of his hand, but Cecil ducked before he could connect with the side of his head. “You are as stupid as the day you were born.”
“Oh yah!” Cecil’s tone turned cocky. “We’ll see how stupid I am when I come back with fat pockets and you lose that mitt full of cash you stole from Flossie.”
Billy’s blood went hot. He reached over and picked Cecil up by his lace collar. “Shut your trap!”
“Let go!” Cecil squirmed. “You’re wrinkling my blouse!”
“Flossie doesn’t know I took that money!” Billy gave Cecil a hard shake. “And you better not have told her, or so help me God … .”
“Who says I told her?”
Billy dropped Cecil back to the floor, then glanced over his shoulder to see if anyone had spied him manhandling a woman. “You got a soft spot for Flossie, you always have. For that matter, you got a soft spot for any kind of woman who crosses your path.”
Time After Time Page 137