Promise Me

by Deborah Schneider

  “That might be true, but I made a difference to him. Didn’t I?”

  With that, she turned on her heel and flounced out of the room and toward the kitchen. Sam looked at Caleb and grinned. She was right; she sure as hell had made a difference to someone. Amanda Wainwright was proving to be a force to be reckoned with.

  ***

  Amanda was ashamed of herself. Why had she been so irritated with Sam? He’d come to see how things were going for her. She had no reason to be angry with him for telling her the truth.

  She sat down at the large pine table in the kitchen and lowered her head. The enormity of what she was trying to do overwhelmed her. Arthur had entrusted her with this responsibility, had wrung a deathbed promise from her, and now she just didn’t know if she could.

  Yesterday, she’d toured “tent city” with Mr. Penny. He had tried to dissuade her. Later she’d made a note to herself to pay closer attention to the man’s advice.

  People were living in squalor. The stench of thick mud and refuse had nearly choked her. Sad- eyed children and women with hopelessness engraved on their faces stared at her. Drunken men had called out ribald comments as her horse picked its way through what passed for a street. When she returned to the Parmeter House, the weight of her responsibilities had settled upon her like a heavy wooden yoke on a team of oxen. The visit had left her despondent, aware that her efforts were futile when faced with the enormous challenges of helping so many people.

  Then Sam had said the very thing she’d been thinking since yesterday. She couldn’t help them all. His words echoed in her heart. What could one foolish woman with no experience do to make life better for these people?

  But the look on Caleb McQueen’s face made her realize perhaps the way to accomplish her goal was one person at a time. Change one life and hope that would inspire someone to help another person. Like a ripple across a lake, people could help each other and change Willow Creek.

  Amanda shook her head. The longer she stayed here, the stranger her thoughts became. She’d wake up in the middle of the night, seized by an idea, and wouldn’t be able to sleep again until she lit a candle and wrote in her journal. She’d sit at the vanity table in her room, wrapped in a quilt, her mind straying down the stairs and beyond the closed door to the kitchen. To the man sitting at another table, waiting for her. Night after night, she had resisted the urge to walk down those stairs and fall into his arms again. She craved his touch, the gentle look in his golden eyes, and the fire he ignited when their lips met.

  As if she had summoned him with her thoughts, Samuel Calhoun stood in the doorway. “You can’t stay in Willow Creek, Amanda. I’ve heard rumors, and you’re in danger.” He took a step toward her. “You could get hurt, badly hurt.” A flicker of sadness crossed his face. “Go back to Helena and forget about Willow Creek. Leave your agent in charge of this Benevolent Association and get out of town.”

  Amanda considered his words as she traced a pattern on the worn surface of the table in front of her. “I know about the threats. Mr. Penny informed me nearly the moment I arrived in town.” She stood, pulled several china cups from the cupboard, and pointed at the chair across from her.

  “Can I get you some coffee?”

  Sam sat down. “Don’t think the people behind those threats are harmless, Amanda. This territory breeds dangerous men who will stop at nothing to get their own way.”

  Amanda set the cup and saucer in front of him, poured them each some coffee, and returned to her seat. She stirred cream and sugar into her own cup while pondering his warning.

  “How about you, Sam?” She challenged him with a bold look. “What would you do to get your own way? Would you sell your soul for the things you desire or to accomplish a goal?”

  His face grew pale, and she briefly wondered if he was part of a conspiracy to get rid of her. What would he gain by running her out of town? No, she was just getting addle-plated, Sam wouldn’t... She couldn’t finish the thought. She sipped her coffee to distract herself from her own musings.

  “I know the kind of men you’re up against, and they don’t give up, let’s put it that way.” Sam lifted the cup to his lips, and their kiss a few days ago near the willow grove at the edge of the creek flooded her memories. She closed her eyes, recalling the image of him hovering over her, of his lean, firm body covering hers. Heat coiled through her like flame shooting from a blaze.

  She opened her eyes and blinked. “I’ve hired some men to protect me. Pinkertons.” Her voice held a note of superiority. “The best men money can buy. Because you really can purchase nearly everything you want, if you have enough money.”

  He slammed his fist on the table and stood up to lean toward her. “They won’t be able to protect you, Amanda. Get out of town. The only way I can know you’re safe is if you leave!”

  She jumped to her feet to face him and her cheeks heated as he temper seized control of her emotions. “I will not break my deathbed promise to my husband. I’ll leave Willow Creek when I’m good and ready to leave. I refuse to be run out by thieves and murderers who sneak about in the dark and send veiled threats to defenseless women. Tell them, Mr. Calhoun, tell them all. Amanda Wainwright has the means to hire a hundred men, perhaps a thousand. I won’t be bullied, and I can make any man’s life a living hell if he gets in my way.”

  Sam stared down at her. She’d thrown down the gauntlet, challenging these people to a duel, and calling them out into the street for a shoot-out. She was so flabbergasted at her own behavior she was now speechless.

  “Be careful about the bed you make, Amanda, because in the end, you’re going to have to sleep in it.” Sam donned his hat and stormed out the door.

  Amanda let him go with a heavy heart. She didn’t know if she could trust Samuel Calhoun, but she knew he’d deliver her message.

  She dropped back into the chair. What had possessed her to make such a threat? She was no mythical Amazon warrior; she didn’t fight battles. She’d grown up in a convent, raised by the Sisters of Charity, for goodness’ sake.

  She wanted to put her head down on the table and weep, but tears were useless. She’d instruct Mr. Penny to hire some bodyguards, because despite her boast, she hadn’t directed him to arrange for Pinkerton agents to protect her. She would be more careful. What she really needed was a strong man who wasn’t afraid to face down danger.

  The image of Samuel Calhoun flashed through her mind. Of course, wasn’t that the obvious answer? She could hire Sam to protect her. He carried a gun, and she could tell from the way the muscles bulged beneath his jacket when he’d held her that he was strong. He even knew the men who threatened her, so he could provide reliable information about their plans.

  She shook her head. He’d never agree, because he had his own business to run. And the expression on his face when he left indicated that he considered her to be mad. He’d come to warn her of danger and she’d spit at him like a wildcat backed into a corner.

  Drumming her fingers on the table, she tried to figure out how a woman could entice a man to do what she wanted. She considered the nearly naked woman lying prone across a chaise in the picture hanging above the dry sink. It had been in the parlor, but Amanda thought it was a distraction for the miners who came to visit. She should have discarded it, but the expression on the woman’s face reminded her of her mother. The bright green eyes shining with playfulness, the corners of her lips lifted into an impish smile.

  Of course.

  Amanda stood up, a plan already forming in her mind. She needed someone to run a few errands for her. She remembered the boy in the other room. Caleb. He could do the things she needed to have done. Because for what she had in mind, the proper Mr. Penny would not suffice.

  He would not approve of her most improper intentions.

  Chapter Six

  Amanda tossed her silver-plated brush on the bed and shook her head at the image in th
e mirror. She leaned forward to pinch her cheeks, then glanced down and wondered if she should adjust her corset a bit lower to expose more of her breasts. Nibbling on her lower lip, she turned her head and batted her eyelashes in what she imagined to be a flirtatious pose. She thought she looked silly, but other women had always assured her men loved a woman who pretended to be coy.

  Being raised by nuns and living with her husband’s less than stellar performance in the bedroom had not contributed to her knowledge of how to seduce a man. She’d vacillated all day about her plans for tonight.

  She was excited one moment, as butterflies danced in her lower belly when she thought of Sam. In the next minute, she trembled as she considered the consequences of her scheme. Though she tried to put thoughts of bedding Samuel Calhoun out of her mind, the idea was far too enticing to dismiss.

  She imagined his arms wrapped around her, his rough, callused hands moving over her body, his hot punishing kisses plundering her mouth.

  She shifted the rose colored silk corset. The dainty lace trimmed drawers and the thin muslin dressing gown did little to hide what was underneath. She felt sinful, brazen, and quite wicked.

  Taking a deep breath, she grabbed the bottle of port, tossed her head in defiance, and opened her door a crack. She peeked into the hallway, making sure no other guests were wandering about. She paused at the bottom of the stairs to wet her lips and adjust her corset again. She tried to recall the seductive look on the woman’s face in the painting at the Miners’ Association. Finally, she gathered her courage, took a deep breath, and opened the kitchen door.

  When she discovered the room was empty she wanted to stomp her foot in frustration. All her intricate plans, all of her careful preparations, and Samuel Calhoun wasn’t even here for her to seduce. She set the bottle on the table and slumped into a chair. She’d finally found the courage to do something dangerous and forbidden, and circumstances managed to work against her.

  She jumped when the door opened, and a cool night breeze swept into the room, stirring the curtains. Sam stood in the doorway, a look of astonishment on his face when he took in her appearance. He quickly slammed the door shut behind him.

  “What the hell are you doing prancing around in the middle of the night, dressed in your fancies?” He swallowed, his amber eyes heated and his breathing heavy.

  Amanda’s cheeks warmed, and although she didn’t glance down at herself, she gathered the opening of the dressing gown a bit closer. It was a futile effort. She’d chosen this particular gown because of the deep, wide opening that would allow him to see her corset and view her breasts. She’d taken great pains to arrange for most of her bosom to spill over the top of the silky fabric.

  Sam threw his hat on the baking table and crossed the room in two long strides. Towering over her, he eyed the bottle sitting on the table and gave her a lop-sided grin.

  “Is this a private party, or can anybody join in?” Amanda didn’t let her gaze move from his despite the butterflies in her stomach and the effort it took to keep her teeth from chattering. “It’s a private party, but you’re invited. If you can find us a couple of glasses.” She tried to insert a husky note of invitation into her voice.

  His eyes raked over her, and he seemed poised to ask her another question.

  The chill dissipated from her skin to be replaced by a hot, steady heat that spread from her fingers to the tender folds of the slit between her legs.

  He grinned and went to the cupboard for glasses. He returned to the table to sit down across from her, and quickly pulled the cork from the bottle she’d placed on the table.

  “Have you taken to drinking strong spirits in the middle of the night to help you sleep?”

  She wanted to fold her arms across herself to keep him from focusing on her exposed flesh. The heat of a blush crawled from her breasts to her cheeks. She tossed her hair and licked her lips, embarrassed when she remembered she’d planned to entice him with this view in the first place. She kept her hands folded in her lap so he couldn’t see her tremble. She was discovering that planning a seduction was much easier than the actual execution. His bold looks made her feel naked, and she heated again as her heart raced. Her nipples ached against the silk fabric of her corset.

  She licked her lips and took a deep breath to calm herself. “I was bored, and I was hoping you’d be down here.”

  He poured the burgundy liquid into two glasses and held one out to her. “Then let’s drink to boredom and ways to relieve it.”

  She took a huge gulp of the wine and nearly coughed as the liquid burned its way down her throat. Her eyes watered, and she was tempted to slam the glass back down on the table. Instead, she finished her drink and tried to pretend she was used to imbibing such strong spirits.

  Sam smiled, refilling the glass. “You’re supposed to sip port, my dear, not gulp it.”

  Amanda shook her head. “I was just enjoying the taste—humble, yet full of body.” She smiled, trying to appear confident.

  Sam took his time letting his gaze travel slowly down the length of her body, pausing at her breasts. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, and his mouth lifted at the corners.

  “I’d say that was an apt description. Full-bodied and brimming with innocence, yet possessing just a touch of bawdiness.”

  The temperature in the room soared. He couldn’t, or wouldn’t, take his eyes off her. A slow, languorous warmth spread through her, and she squirmed under his perusal. She wished now that she had brought a fan with her, but she’d never realized a room could grow so warm and stuffy this quickly. Her breasts felt heavy, and moisture dampened the crotch of her drawers.

  “Are you talking about the wine, or about me?” She fought to keep her voice from wavering and struggled to maintain control of her emotions.

  His laugh was deep as a bear’s growl, and it resonated through the room. She couldn’t help but join the merriment.

  “Do you want to explain your outfit? I thought perhaps you’d taken a job over at Madame Holt’s new place.”

  Amanda stopped laughing and frowned at him. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing? It’s very fashionable.” She lifted her head to give him a haughty look.

  He laughed again and leaned across the table to slide a finger beneath her chin and bring her face level with his.

  “You look like a woman of loose morals and ill repute. It’s possible I might get the wrong idea about you, Mrs. Wainwright.”

  Amanda widened her eyes. She tried to control herself, but he was making her angry. She shook her head to release his grip and stood up, leaning across the table to confront him.

  “I wanted to talk to you, Sam. I thought if I dressed this way I might manage to garner your undivided attention.”

  His eyes centered on her décolletage, and she realized too late that her movement had given him an even better view of her breasts.

  “Oh, don’t worry, darlin’, you’ve got my full and undivided attention.” His gaze flickered to her face briefly before returning to her bosom.

  Amanda stood, fluffed her hair, and decided to put all that posing in front of the mirror to some practical use. “Good, because I wanted to apologize for the way I acted this afternoon.” She took a step around the table toward him. “I realize you were just trying to protect me, and I wanted to let you know how appreciative I am.”

  Sam’s gaze raked over her from head to toe, and his hand shot out to grab her wrist. “Maybe you should just show me how grateful you are, Amanda.” Her pulse quickened at his touch, and she wondered if he could feel it, too. He slowly pulled her closer. She knew she should resist or find a way to keep the table between them. But it was too late, because she now stood only inches from him. She wanted this man, yet her conscience fought her every bit of the way. Unfortunately, tonight her body was winning the battle against her better judgment.

  Sam moved closer, near enough
that she could smell the spicy fragrance of his cologne and see the dark golden highlights in his amber eyes. Close enough to be delightfully dangerous.

  Amanda wanted to feel his hands stroke her breasts and she rubbed against him, whimpering with a need she didn’t understand. Her body tingled, demanding a satisfaction she craved with a primal hunger that astonished her. It was as if she were possessed by another woman. A wanton seductress who threw off all her inhibitions to explore the depths of desire.

  He was playing a game with her, a cat toying with a mouse, holding her captive between his paws. She didn’t want to be pursued; her intention this evening was to be the pursuer.

  Without pausing to consider the consequences, she plopped herself on his lap, arranged her hands on each side of his face, and turned him towards her. Then she planted a hot, searing kiss on his surprised lips.

  But what should have been a flirtatious tease became an amorous embrace. His hand locked behind her head, and she was swallowed up in the ecstasy of the moment. His mouth devoured hers, then his tongue slipped between her teeth and she trembled with delicious sensations. Shivers of delight coursed through her. She responded first with hesitation, then with bravado as her tongue darted forward and explored.

  Desire consumed her. When her arms wrapped around Sam’s neck, soft mewing noises surrounded them, and she realized they were coming from her. She felt as if she were someone else, observing this embrace, knowing danger hovered, yet so caught up in the moment she couldn’t move away.

  His hand moved to cover, then gently squeeze, one breast. Fireworks exploded beneath her closed eyelids as hot liquid pooled in the sensitive place between her legs. She thrust herself forward in invitation, begging him to keep touching her, to keep kissing her, to never let this moment end. Every point where their bodies touched made her ache with a craving hunger.