Just After Midnight: Historical Romance

by Lori Handeland

  “I’m tired, Alex,” she said, her eyes still on the picture.

  He came up behind her and his hands rested on her shoulders. “Your mother?”

  “Yes.”

  “She’s lovely. You have the look of her.”

  “Thank you. She was very frail and gentle. Too much so for this world.”

  “You take after your father in spirit then.” Alex turned her to face him. “You’re a survivor. I admire that. But you don’t have to prove it to me. It doesn’t take away any of your strength to spend your life with another person; you only add that person’s strength to your own.”

  Megan gazed into Alex’s eyes and saw the warmth and strength of the man. He ran his knuckles gently down her cheek then kissed her brow before he took his leave.

  She waited only a moment before locking the door and removing the portrait. The key in her pocket fit the lock, and the door opened with a slight creak. Inside lay a small book, which she removed carefully, then climbed down from the chair and went to sit on the bed.

  The book was black and leather-bound with the look of a diary. She flipped open the cover and recognized her father’s handwriting.

  Meggie—Let no one see this book but you. If you are reading this, I am dead. Suffice it to say, I did not die by accident but by design. Read what I have recorded herein and know that I have always loved you. Papa.

  Megan raised her head for a moment, tears stinging even as uncertainty clouded her mind. He had not died by accident? How could that be when an avalanche was nothing if not an accident? Reaching over, she turned up the lamp and read on.

  While I was at the claim, someone shot at me. Willie was with me and, after the intruder in my room the other night, feels something is amiss. We returned to The Celebration together I am lucky to have such a friend.

  Megan frowned. The attempts on her father’s life followed a similar pattern to the attempts on the lives of both her and Alex. Either the killer was not very original or not very bright.

  She read the book from cover to cover, much of it detailing Brian’s trip up the Chilkoot Pass and the beginnings of The Celebration. He later wrote of the claim on Bonanza Creek and his hope that the mine would bear fruit. Brian mentioned Willie often, Joanna Carson not at all. If her father had traveled with Joanna, created a child with her, wouldn’t he have mentioned the woman once in his diary? Despite her father’s admonition to keep the book to herself, Megan knew she would show it to Alex. It would bring him one step closer to finding the man who had hurt Joanna if he knew he no longer had to prove Brian Daily’s culpability.

  I walk in fear of my life each day. If only I knew whom to trust. Willie would profit most by my death, especially if Megan leaves Dawson City without claiming the mine; but I have trusted my partner with my life before and I will not start doubting now. I feel the threat drawing nearer. If not for Damon watching my back, I would not leave my room.

  The diary ended there, and Megan put the book aside as she stared into space. The final entry worried her. Why would someone want to kill her father? The Celebration had been left to Megan, as had his share in the mine. He had no enemies that he mentioned. Brian had always been everyone’s friend. There was also the matter of the note she had found at the cabin, which had asked Brian to meet Willie at the base of the pass. But her father never mentioned such a note in his diary. And Brian had died in an avalanche, a chance occurrence if ever there was one; how could his death have been anything but an accident? Instead of answering her questions as she’d hoped, the diary only served to add more questions and cloud the answers she already had.

  A knock on her door had her glancing at the clock next to her bed. Afternoon. Megan sighed and rubbed her tired eyes. She had read the diary when she should have been sleeping, and now she would have to get dressed in a few hours for work.

  After pushing the diary under a pillow, Megan crossed the room and opened the door, moving aside as Damon streaked past her legs. Alex Carson stepped into the room, leaning against the door to shut it.

  “Did you miss me?” He pulled her close.

  “No … yes … I—” Megan stuttered.

  “I thought so,” he said and kissed her.

  Megan pushed against his chest and tore her lips away before her traitorous body allowed a repeat performance of that morning’s activities.

  “I thought I told you I wouldn’t marry you,” she gasped.

  “You did. However, you said nothing about sleeping with me.”

  Megan knew her mouth hung open in surprise. “You mean you still want to sleep with me even after I’ve said I won’t marry you?”

  “Of course. We haven’t been married either of the times I made love to you.” He pulled her back into his arms. “If you’d like to reconsider my offer, I’m thrilled. If not, well, we can continue on the way we have been.”

  “You still want to see me?”

  “Of course. If I can’t have you as my wife, I’m perfectly happy to be content with you as my mistress.”

  Mistress. Megan frowned. The word conjured up images of women in houses paid for by men, their clothes bought by men, the very food they ate provided at the whim of men. No, that was not what she wanted.

  “I can take care of myself, Alex. I have no need of your protection.”

  “Fine. Then we’ll just enjoy each other for as long as we … enjoy each other.”

  Megan stared at him for several seconds, pondering the offer. She had to admit she enjoyed him, she enjoyed what they did together. If that enjoyment were good enough for a man, why shouldn’t it be the same for a woman?

  “All right,” she agreed. “As long as you understand that I will not be kept and I will not marry you.”

  Alex merely smiled and kissed her until she forgot what she had been saying. He carried her to the bed, and as he lay her back on the pillows, her head struck the diary and she paused.

  “I have something to show you,” she said.

  “Good,” he murmured against her skin.

  “No, really.” She reached under the pillow and pulled out the book. “My father’s diary.”

  Alex froze, then lifted his head slowly until his gaze met hers. “You had his diary and you never told me?”

  “I just found it last night, after you left.” She pointed to the painting of her mother she had replaced in its original position to hide the door in the wall. “There’s a safe hidden behind the portrait.”

  Alex sat up and took the book from her, flipping it open to the first page. After scanning the message there, he looked up briefly then moved to the desk and began to read.

  An hour later, Alex tossed the book onto the desk and turned toward Megan as she waited in front of the fireplace. “He never mentions Joanna.” No emotion graced his voice.

  “I think that proves he isn’t the man you’re looking for.”

  “Or maybe she meant so little to him he didn’t even bother to record her existence.”

  “I don’t think so. He talks about Willie enough. I’m sure he would have written about Joanna if he were involved with her.”

  Alex nodded and joined her on the rug before the fire. “I agree. I’ve hated him for so long, and now to find out I was wrong … I don’t know what to do next.”

  “The same thing we’ve been doing. Keep looking for Willie and Ian. The answers will fall into place eventually, Alex. But knowing what happened to Joanna and my father won’t bring them back. We have to go on with our lives without them.”

  Alex took her hand, but continued to stare into the flames. “I can’t regret searching for Brian since my search led me to you.”

  Megan smiled and leaned against him. “I’m glad, too. Though I must say you weren’t too appealing in the beginning.”

  “And now?” Alex asked as he took her into his arms.

  “Now, I find you irresistible.”

  Alex stood and drew Megan to her feet. “Show me,” he said, as he led her to the bed.

  She undresse
d him piece by piece, pausing to kiss and caress each inch of flesh revealed to her questing lips. His flesh was warm and smelled of fresh soap and man. She rubbed her cheek against the soft curls covering his chest and then flicked her tongue over the round, flat disc of a male nipple. When her fingers traced the hardened outline of him through his pants, Alex muttered an oath and moved away from her long enough to remove the rest of his clothing then he yanked the belt of her robe free, opening the garment and freeing her bare skin for his hands.

  They tumbled back onto the bed, a mass of limbs and teeth and lips. He gathered her hair into his fists and held her still, staring into her eyes as though he wished a view into her soul. Then, whispering her name, he bent his head and his mouth plundered hers.

  She opened her mouth and met his tongue with her own, allowing her hands to roam down the taut flesh of his torso before she clasped his buttocks to pull him closer.

  His lips traveled from her mouth to her neck, where he nibbled for a moment before moving on to sweeter delights. His hands found her breasts, cupping them together as he bent his head to run a tongue over their distended tips. Megan arched, aching for more, and bit her lip to keep from crying out as Alex took a nipple into his mouth, biting it gently before laving the hurt with his tongue. Then he drew her into his mouth and suckled so slowly and deeply she felt the sensation within her womb.

  His hardness cradled against her belly, she reached to trace a fingertip up and down his shaft, then clasped and pulled him to her.

  He entered her with a moan, and she welcomed the fulfillment, climaxing immediately when he put his hands beneath her to lift her hips and plunge more deeply than she would have thought possible. When he found his own release, she joined him a second time.

  The wind picked up outside with an eerie, lonesome howl as the snow scraped the windows, but inside there was warmth and need and peace.

  Alex awoke with Megan nestled to his side and a chill pervading the room as the fire died. Each night they spent together bound them closer; and if she hadn’t mentioned the word love to him yet, Alex was confident she soon would. He smiled softly with the memory of their recent lovemaking and turned his face to kiss the top of her head. Megan murmured his name in her sleep, and the hand that lay on his chest curled possessively, tangling in the hair that dusted his skin.

  He would never let her go. He had wandered for years from one assignment to the next, the last year a constant search for Joanna and then Brian Daily. He had never felt such peace as he felt with this woman beside him. It was a feeling he would fight with everything he had to keep.

  Someone wanted them both dead and now it looked as though that someone had killed Megan’s father. He wondered if that person and the man involved with Joanna were one and the same. It would save him a lot of time if that were so.

  Alex listened to the snow fight with the wind and knew a severe storm raged outside. There would be no investigating until the tumult blew itself out.

  He inched away from Megan and began to dress.

  “Where are you going?” she asked sleepily.

  “Shh, go back to sleep. I have to return to the barracks.”

  “It’s snowing. Come back to bed.” She lifted her hand in invitation.

  Alex took her hand and sat on the edge of the bed. “I don’t think you’ll be open for business for a few days in this weather. I’ll be back later.”

  “Don’t leave.” She yanked his hand, and he tumbled forward on top of her. Giggling, she wrapped her arms around his neck.

  “The day after tomorrow is Christmas,” Alex said as he removed her arms from his neck and slid out of her reach.

  “Christmas?” Her voice sounded more awake now. “I forgot.”

  “Maybe we could spend it together?” Alex ventured.

  “Yes.” She sat up, and in the dim light Alex admired the naked rise and fall of her breasts and the tumble of red hair over her shoulders. “I’ll have a special dinner here for everyone. It’ll be wonderful,” she said.

  “I had something more private in mind.”

  “No, this will be great.” She warmed to the subject. “A feast and presents. I’ve never had a Christmas dinner. We were always working.” She looked up at him, her face shining with anticipation. “You’ll come?”

  He groaned at the image she presented, naked in front of him, her eyes full of happiness and excitement. Though he had dreamed of an evening together in bed for their celebration, he couldn’t disappoint her. Swallowing his own disappointment, he said, “I wouldn’t miss it.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The snow continued throughout the night and the next day. Though Megan didn’t lock the doors of The Celebration against customers, no one ventured in, so she and the girls ended up playing cards amongst themselves.

  She had debated for the past two days on what to give Alex and had found nothing suitable, even in the town that had everything. When she returned to her room to wrap the presents she had bought, her eyes fell on the sweater she had knitted for Brian during the long months she had been stranded in St. Michael the previous winter. The blue of the yarn reminded her of Alex’s eyes and she put her cheek to the wool. She had found his gift.

  Christmas day arrived, dark and still snowing. The Celebration was filled with the tantalizing smells of holiday baking. Megan awoke early and lay in her bed enjoying the anticipation of the day.

  Papa had always insisted a holiday was a day like any other, only there was more money to be made off the poor saps who believed the day was special. Somehow, Megan had never been able to convince herself of her father’s beliefs in that respect. As each holiday came and went, celebrated by everyone but the Dailys, the emptiness inside Megan had increased. Today she would fill some of that emptiness with the joy of the season.

  She dressed for the occasion in the white dress she had worn for her debut as Meggie O’Day. The outfit was her best, and she hadn’t worn it since that night. She had told all the dancers to dress for dinner.

  Megan crept downstairs as quietly as she could, though she knew everyone else was still asleep, and placed the wrapped packages around the long table set up in the dance hall.

  “Merry Christmas, Megan,” Alex said.

  Megan gasped. She hadn’t heard him enter. “How long have you been watching me?”

  “Not nearly long enough. You look beautiful, though a bit cold. Here.” He stepped toward her, handing her a large box tied with red ribbon. “You might prefer this.”

  “For me?” she asked, a pleased smile tugging at the edges of her lips.

  “Who else? Open it.”

  Megan stared down at the box in her hands, savoring the moment. She hadn’t had a present since her mother died. Slowly she slid the ribbon from the box and pulled off the lid. Inside lay folds of green velvet of a shade she knew would flatter her skin and hair to their utmost. She pulled the dress from the box and held it up to her chest.

  The style was one she would have favored before coming to the Yukon, plain and high necked, boasting leg-of-mutton sleeves and a full skirt. A ruffled flounce was sewn around the hem.

  Her eyes met Alex’s and she smiled. “Thank you. It’s lovely.”

  “Would you wear it today?” He moved so close, the heat of his body called to hers. “Wear it for me.”

  “I’ll change now.” Megan moved to the stairs and began to climb. She paused when she realized Alex wasn’t following.

  “Ah … wouldn’t you like to come up?” She blushed at how brazen the words sounded, then chided herself for her silliness. The man had slept in her bed and she was embarrassed to ask him to her room.

  “I’ll just wait here,” Alex said. “I’d like to see you walk down the stairs in that dress. Just for me.”

  Megan found that image arousing, and she wet her lips with her tongue. When she glanced at Alex’s face, his attention had focused on her mouth. The bared skin of her shoulders and neck warmed with the thought of what his lips were capable of doing t
o her.

  She stepped forward, but Alex stepped back, putting a hand up between them. “If I kiss you now, Megan, I’ll take you upstairs and we won’t leave your room again today. I know how much you’ve looked forward to this dinner. We’ll save our time for later.”

  Megan nodded, touched that he understood her need for the trappings of a holiday. After allowing herself one small touch of a finger to his lips, she left him alone in the dance hall.

  Alex admired the sway of her hips in the white satin dress. He remembered the first time he’d seen her in that dress, how he’d despised her and everything she stood for. He was ashamed to admit he had been such a prig. He had no conception of what a woman alone had to endure, but Megan had taught him much about true strength and courage.

  A door opened upstairs and Alex jumped in surprise. She couldn’t be dressed already. Perhaps she needed help with a fastening. Alex moved to the stairs and glanced up, then immediately ducked behind the stairwell out of sight.

  It was not Megan who had exited from her room but Queen, her dark, hooded cape swaying as she crept stealthily down the hall. Alex was lawman enough to recognize the behavior of a woman with something to hide.

  He remained under the stairs, praying Megan would not return at that inopportune moment. When he heard the back door close behind Queen, he emerged from the shadows. Torn, he glanced upstairs and then at the closed door.

  No time to tell Megan what had happened. If he wanted to know what Queen was up to, he had to follow her now or lose her in the storm.

  Alex picked up his coat and followed Queen out the door.

  Megan stood in front of the floor-length mirror, admiring her gift. The dress fit as if it had been made for her, and most likely it had. She had pulled her hair into a loose roll at her neck, the more elaborate style she had fashioned for the white dress seeming out of place with the simpler green velvet. She cocked her head and the mirror image of Megan cocked her head, as well. She liked this dress better, if the truth be told. Alex would, too.

  She went to the door and took a deep breath, suddenly nervous, though she didn’t know why. Yanking open the door, she told Damon to stay, though he eagerly pushed at her legs in an attempt to get past. She glanced down and saw a shadowed figure at the back of the hall.