Abby truly believed Dillon might have said more, but Max leaned forward, elbows on the table, fingers steepled in front of his lips. He didn’t say a word, but stared intently until Dillon sullenly backed off.
Max cast a silent glance her way. She stared at him blankly. He tapped her toe with his boot yet again. She swore the first thing they would get straight before the next strategy was a signal other than the trouncing of her feet.
“Thank you, Mr. Markham, I accept.”
He put the money onto the pile to see Dillon’s bet.
Red-faced, the man sneered. “What makes the difference—you sell yourself to one man or another.”
This time she had to restrain Max with her hand on his arm. Finding her composure, she smiled. “The difference, Mr. Dillon, is that Mr. Markham appears to be a gentleman.” She squeezed slightly to remind Max he was still in the game.
He threw in his cards. “I’m out.”
She calmly looked at her only opponent. “I call.”
He laid his cards down and stretched his hands toward the winnings. She placed her cards face up on top of the money.
“Shit!” Dillon jumped up from the table, and she knew a brief moment of panic. Her full house beat his ace high straight. When he leaned toward her, arms outstretched, Nathan grabbed one arm and Mr. Pepper the other. They began forcibly moving him toward the door.
“I’ll get it back, lady,” he bellowed over his shoulder. “Be damned guaranteed of that, and some of your pretty little ass for interest.” The door slammed behind him, and Abby leaned back in her chair. Nervous energy caused her to shake all over.
Max took control. “Talbot, follow Dillon and make sure that man doesn’t get anywhere near us.” Johnson had brought her cloak, and Max wrapped it about her when she stood.
“Johnson, see Miss Faith to my carriage. Tell Forbes not to stop for anyone or anything until she’s safely home.”
“Max?” She turned to him, uneasy at the suppressed tension she heard in his words. She didn’t understand his urgency.
“I’ll explain when we’re safely behind locked doors, but trust me when I say you’ve made an enemy tonight.” He handed her over. “Johnson, see to it.”
“Yes, sir.” The man gently led her to the double doors. She turned back to see Max tap the corner of the fireplace, then disappear past a panel that slid open in the wall. If she’d had any doubts to his occupation, she now knew for a certainty that it was beyond dangerous.
Peter Pepper waited by the carriage when she exited the InterOcean Hotel. “You were quite brave to speak up, Mr. Pepper,” she said, giving him her hand. He clasped it firmly.
“Goes against the grain for a body to speak to a lady just so,” he replied.
“Well, I thank you for your assistance.”
He handed her into the carriage, but stepped forward before the door closed.
“May I say, Miss Faith, that you play a darn good hand of poker.”
“Thank you again.”
He closed the door and she sat back in the dark. The carriage moved forward.
“Another conquest, fair Miss Faith?”
She squealed, shrinking into the corner before recognizing Max’s voice.
“Good lord, you gave me a fright.” She searched the darkness, but with the shades drawn against a moonless night, she only sensed his presence.
After his one comment, he said nothing. The creak of the carriage springs sounded deafening. Abby squirmed.
“Max?”
“Do you have any idea how extremely angry I am at this very moment?” He bit off each word, their sharpness pricking Abby like needles.
“Angry? But why?” His reasoning was beyond her. “John Dillon is definitely the man I played against in Chicago. That means we’ve succeeded in identifying the man who won Monty’s watch. If your brother lost it as a clue, we are on the trail of the killer.”
Silence.
She tried again.
“I didn’t lose your money.” In fact, her purse absolutely bulged at the seams.
Calloused hands grabbed her by the upper arms and dragged her across the width of the carriage, where she landed in his lap. With one twist of his hand, her bag was stripped from her wrist. A dull thud echoed in her ears when he threw it across the carriage.
“Do you think I give a damn about the money?”
She felt his chest heave with his rapid breathing. His hands were back on her arms, but his grip didn’t hurt. In fact, she thought she detected a tremor. She’d never seen him so angry, the tension palatable in the air.
With no warning whatsoever, Max pulled her close and his mouth found hers. His kiss was hot and hard and she thought he meant to devour her. Where before their kisses had been passionate, nothing compared to the way he now possessed her. He gave her no time to soften beneath his lips, but teased and probed until she opened and he took total ownership of her very soul.
Just when she thought she would expire from the exquisiteness of his kisses, he lifted his head but didn’t release her. He tilted her back against one arm, his fingers flicking the button of her cloak open. He slid it off her shoulders. Abby felt naked, her breasts barely concealed beneath the thin black silk.
He growled deep in his throat. His hand slid along her side, and Abby thought if he didn’t touch her, she would scream. Reading her thoughts, he brushed his palm across the top of her breast. Her gown did nothing to deter the heat that radiated from his skin. Even so, Abby wished nothing lay between them.
His lips moved down the column of her throat. Hot, moist air caressed her skin. He slowly slid her dress down over her breasts and kissed the valley between them. An even hotter tongue licked a circle around her nipple, and Abby groaned.
She wanted to tug his head closer, yet feared moving lest the sensations disappear. No sooner had she thought it than his mouth covered her breast, tugging gently at her nipple.
He lifted her legs to the carriage seat. Cool night air caressed her as he slid a hand up her leg, past the garter at the very top of her stocking, bringing her gown with it. Abby sucked in her breath, anticipating his next move and where it would lead.
He released her nipple and kissed his way to her other breast. Abby softly begged him not to stop. She wanted him to appease the ache that sliced through her at his touch.
He licked, he teased, he whispered in the night. “You have no idea how crazy you made me when you wagered that last time. Have you any inkling what he wanted from you?” She heard the jealousy in his voice and her heart soared. She also detected fear.
Bringing one hand up to caress his cheek, she tried to calm him. “I knew I could beat him.” She lifted his head, finding his mouth and brushing her lips ever so softly against his. “Besides, I had you there to save me.”
“Such faith.” He shook his head at her trust.
Her body longed for something other than conversation. “Would that I had as much faith that you might finish what you have started.” She wiggled and was pleased to hear him groan in response. His hand delved higher on her thigh.
“We are not yet done with this discussion, vixen,” he murmured, but she didn’t think his voice sounded very convincing.
She pulled his head down and kissed him until she was breathless. Once again he took her soaring on the wings of pleasure to that secret place only lovers go.
* * *
Max called Abby into the study first thing the next morning, bound and determined to finish their discussion of her behavior, both in taunting Dillon and in the clothes she’d worn. A vision of black silk framing pale breasts filled his thoughts. Gritting his teeth, he was equally determined not to broach the subject of their behavior in the carriage on the way home.
How many times could he take her to the peak of her pleasure and not transport himself right along with her, completing the act his body craved so desperately? He had not slept at all last night. Unfulfilled lust had continued to throb through his veins.
Her passion
ate nature would be his downfall. In her innocence, she was experiencing the first bloom of womanhood. Without her mother to guide her, she didn’t see anything wrong with what they did. If Max couldn’t control himself for both of their sakes, there was no doubt she would allow him that last intimate step. A step which would irrevocably change their lives.
“Good morning.” Abby poked her head through the doorway, looking fresh and beautiful for having had little sleep. She came to sit in the chair facing his desk and he was glad to see she wore a high-necked dress of pale yellow. Tiny flowers sprigged the hemline and the soft bodice fitted closely to her curves. Yellow was a good color for her, he thought, then mentally shook himself. It was high necked, that was the important thing.
“You wanted to see me?” Her voice brought him out of his reverie. It was no wonder Clancy and most of the other operatives weren’t married. Having a woman in his life, in no matter what capacity, was extremely distracting.
He cleared his throat. “What happened last night is going to cause repercussions. Dillon isn’t happy to have lost, especially to a woman, regardless if his funds are unlimited.”
“But isn’t that what you wanted? It was easy enough to identify him, but that doesn’t find your brother nor the money and merchandise that are also missing. To get him to make a mistake, either by speaking out of turn or by showing his hand in some other way, we will know if he is responsible for the murder.” Abby folded her hands in her lap and gave him a genuine smile, apparently very pleased with her reasoning.
“Besides,” she added, “it shouldn’t take too many poker games, provided we can get him to drink more than he did last night. I do believe he would be more chatty when intoxicated.”
“Chatty? Abby, an angry man is a dangerous man. And do not keep saying we. Your part in this is over and done.”
“Can you guarantee he will lose enough to make him careless?” she asked.
“And you can, I suppose?”
“Certainly. It’s all a matter of odds and probability. There is a one in thirteen chance of getting an ace. If I have one in my hand, his chances are going to decrease. Besides—”
“How do you know this?” he interrupted. Sometimes her intelligence scared him. Women shouldn’t know the things Abby did.
“Remember I told you I played cards with the sailors at the wharf?”
“Yes, I know that, but remembering all the cards?”
She shrugged. “It’s really no different than memorizing music—half, eighth and quarter notes all make up the whole. Without a pattern there would be no rhythm to the sound. The cards and the way men play have patterns, too. Mr. Faro said I was a natural dealer with my ability to calculate or sense the odds. Besides, I have a good perception of the way people think.”
She smiled, then added, “Most everyone gives themselves away.”
Max frowned. “I don’t.”
Her smile became a grin. “Would you care to wager on that, sir? You twisted the ring you wore whenever you had a good hand. You weren’t even very subtle about it.”
“Perhaps that was a signal for Johnson or Pepper to fold.” Max refused to believe he was that easy to read.
“No, when you wanted them to fold, you lifted your glass to drink. One sip for Johnson, two for Pepper and three for Talbot. I’m certainly surprised that you were able to walk after all that time.”
“I wasn’t really drinking, you imp.” She had him dead to rights on all counts. Not only did he have a suffragist on his hands, but a card sharp as well.
She scooted forward on her chair, reaching across the desk to clasp his hands. His gaze was drawn to the contrast between their fingers—his brown and blunt while hers were long and slender, the nails tapered. Her grip was warm, sending electric shocks up his arms to his heart.
“Max, don’t you see? You need me.”
He entwined their fingers, rubbing his thumbs across her soft skin. He needed her, but not in the sense she might think.
“Abby, you ridiculed Dillon, and I just don’t know what to expect from him. If anything happened to you…”
“Then that’s all the more reason for me to stay in very close proximity to you.”
A vision of sleeping beside her to keep her safe came to mind. He groaned. Her ruin, and most likely his, was imminent.
Abby sat before the piano, spreading her sheet music in front of her. Libby had been delighted when she’d asked permission to use the music room. Max’s aunt confessed that, although she had a lovely room and a grand piano, she’d never learned to play. The piano was only used when some person or other wanted to offer a niece the opportunity to perform for acquaintances.
Abby wouldn’t be here today except that Max had sneaked away two nights ago to investigate on his own and had not yet returned. She had wrung the information from Hickory that he’d followed Dillon to Arapaho on the Denver & Rio Grande. She decided then and there that if he didn’t think he needed her, she would go back to her original plan. She would work on her music and perhaps even complete her book on advice for independent women.
She completed her scales without really thinking about them, then concentrated on the musical score in front of her. She played the piece she’d composed in Topeka, the melody floating around her and filling the room with an almost live presence. She started the second movement, which she had written on the train as she and Max had headed west.
Halfway through she stopped, the notes hanging in the air. She stared at the pages. Her music had changed drastically from one movement to the next. She checked the sheets of music, making sure she’d placed them in proper order. She began at the beginning.
There was no mistake.
Confounded, she picked up her pencil to make notes, using her left hand to finger the melody while she tried to decide what it was that needed to be changed. She had to admit the second movement sounded much better. Perhaps it was the beginning that needed some adjustment.
“I didn’t realize you played so well,” Max said as he entered the music room.
Abby knew a moment of panic, for her music was a very private matter. She rapidly shuffled her papers into a stack, clutching them to her chest.
“Mother thought it would make me more marketable in marriage.”
“Ah, to your Mr. Dilbert Crabtree.”
“He’s certainly not my anything, but why should you care?”
He shrugged. “I wouldn’t want to see you, an independent-minded woman, become tied to someone who doesn’t appreciate that free spirit.”
She heard longing in his voice and her heart turned over. Was there hope that he really understood her dreams and desires? Libby kept telling her that his feelings ran deep. Would he express them now?
“Do you have an alternative plan?” she prompted.
He didn’t meet her gaze. “Not at the moment. Perhaps by the time we find Monty and get Dillon to confess, something will come to mind.”
She was disappointed, but clung to his use of the word we. “Well, I do hope you’ll let me know if you determine a path for my future.”
Max heard a flurry of sound after he closed the door to the music room. He stood just outside and let the music flow over him, soothing his mind and body. The music Abby played was unlike anything he’d heard in the concert halls back east. There was an underlying sensuality that flowed deep in his soul, following the beat of his heart and opening his mind to thoughts of love and family.
A month ago, he would have chastised himself for even having such ideas, but she made him see things differently. He had made excuses about how he wasn’t good enough for her, but according to her, he did no wrong. She kept reminding him how compassionate and giving he was. The constant worry of trying to live up to his father’s expectations faded more each day she interacted with his life.
He hadn’t lied when he told her he didn’t have a plan. The only thing he knew for a certainty was that he wouldn’t allow her to marry Dilbert Crabtree.
As always when
his thoughts turned to Abby, a question surfaced. Did she love him? It was obvious she enjoyed the kisses and caresses they shared, even if they’d left him wanting more. But did her heart beat out of control when they were together like his did? Were her first and last waking thoughts about him?
It would be easy enough to ask, he supposed. He went against killers and thugs all the time. He certainly had never been afraid of a woman, so why did he hesitate now?
He knew why, and that was what scared him. She might say no.
* * *
“What do you mean they’re both gone?” Max shouted, even when he knew Hickory wasn’t at fault. He paced back and forth before the tall windows in the study, looking out over the street. The morning had been shot to hell, he thought sarcastically. Why should the afternoon be any different?
“Sorry, sir. The orders were to follow them, not detain them, so we’ve got a man on the Colorado Central following Dillon. Since Golden City is the end of that line, we can assume he’s heading there.”
“That doesn’t explain what happened to Monty.” While it hadn’t been hard to track him down, he had yet to confront his wayward brother. Every time his operative sent a message that Monty had returned to Charpiot’s Hotel, he’d left again before Max arrived. Max had to give Monty credit—he knew someone followed him. Out of worry for his brother’s safety, Max had even penned several messages and arranged a meeting away from Garland House. Monty hadn’t shown. Now he was gone. All Max had was a single note in his brother’s hand—I can take care of this.
“Knowing that Monty is at least alive and safe for the time being, I believe our best bet is to follow Dillon.” Max spoke more to himself than to Hickory, but the servant followed his train of thought.
“I’ll visit the train yard to make arrangements. When do you plan to leave?”
A tinkling of music floated from the room above where Abby still practiced. The thought of leaving her here, even protected by Hickory, was unbearable. Max told himself he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on cornering Dillon if he worried about Abby back in Denver.
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