She needed breath and sanity and tore her lips from his. “My goodness.”
His chest rose and fell, eyes blazing. “I don’t imagine goodness had a thing to do with this, Mary Jane.”
Her hands returned to his broad shoulders. She disengaged from him, stunned by what had happened. Yet her body sang a tune that made her wish to dance and sing and exclaim these shameful feelings to the world. She had never imagined sensations and emotions as potent as these existed.
She fumbled for a way to distract him from this path, and to block the madness that threatened to overtake her common sense. “Who attacked you?”
“I don’t know, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it was either skinny arse or that blond guy on the train.”
A shiver coasted over her body. “The men who accosted me the other day?”
“The very ones.”
“Why? Because you helped me?”
“Most likely.”
Before either one of them could speak, a knock sounded on the door. She turned away to answer it and in walked O’Gannon and an older man in his fifties with graying, slicked back hair. His coat was dripping wet and after he removed it, he put it on a chair. Medical bag in hand, he turned to his patient.
O’Gannon’s twin brother arrived—they were dressed differently or she couldn’t have told them apart.
The graying man introduced himself as Dr. Franklin Woodriff. “I’ll examine the patient now. If you could all leave the room, please.”
“I’d like my wife to stay, please.”
O’Gannon and his brother left swiftly. As the examination occurred, Mary Jane spent most of her time standing at the window, worried more than she wanted to acknowledge even to herself. She did not like these feelings that demanded her attention, or the helpless need that consumed her when he was near. Since she started this journey, she had experienced so many things that would have shocked and disturbed her friends and family. Yet here she stood, pretending to be a wife…wife to a man who may have committed murder. The idea should have sent her running to the protection of authorities. Yet, when she was with Elijah McKinnon, she felt safe. Protected.
And the forbidden aspect called to that part of her some would call sinful.
Here she was breaking her own rules, the new rules of decorum she had vowed to maintain.
Oh, bother.
She sighed and stared into the torrential rain that continued outside. No. She did not feel exactly safe. She felt unnerved. Inexplicable feelings that had no name.
“Well, Mr. McKinnon,” the doctor said, “you seem to be in good shape. It looks like you’ve got a bump on the side of your head, but it’s very mild. That explains why you fell unconscious. The man with the club got in at least one good knock. You’ll be fine.”
Relief filled Mary Jane at the man’s words, and she turned to smile at both of them. “That’s wonderful news.”
“That is good news, doc.” Elijah swung his legs off the bed. “My wife has been wringing her hands for the last half hour.” He winked at the doctor. “She was really upset for me.”
Mary Jane wanted to hurl something at Elijah’s head and gave him an exasperated look.
The doctor’s chuckle confirmed that he believed Elijah’s hyperbole. “Well, that’s certainly understandable, Mr. McKinnon.” The doctor’s genuine smile soothed Mary Jane’s remaining ragged nerves. “I recommend a good night’s sleep and that you keep a watch on your husband this evening.”
“Oh, but—” Mary Jane cut herself off. It would sound rather odd if a woman didn’t wish to stay with her husband in these circumstances. She nodded. “Of course.”
“If there is anything worrisome, you can reach me at this address.” Dr. Woodriff pulled out a card with his address and handed it to her.
He returned to the bed and closed his medical bag.
“Thank you, doctor, for coming out in the rain.” Elijah shook his hand.
“You are very welcome.” The doctor glanced from Elijah to Mary Jane and back. “These are rough parts after dark. I suggest neither of you go out alone. We’ve had some local trouble with nativists.”
Elijah sat up straighter. “What kind of trouble?”
“We have plenty of Irish coming through these parts on their way to Pittsburgh, many of them new immigrants. Last week the sheriff found a man and wife dead behind the saloon. The conductor remembered them as Irish, but everyone else pretended they hadn’t seen them in the saloon.”
“You’re suggesting the person who hit me did so because I’m Irish?” Elijah’s question bristled with animosity.
Dr. Woodriff put up a hand. “Now understand I don’t have such sentiments myself. Many a doctor who did would refuse to treat you.”
“A hypocrite to the Hippocratic oath?” Mary Jane asked.
The medical man’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You’ve heard of the Hippocratic oath?”
She nodded. “I cannot imagine any doctor allowing himself to be influenced away from helping someone in distress.”
Dr. Woodriff reached for his coat and hat. “You would be surprised, Mrs. McKinnon, by the strange things even doctors will do given twisted beliefs. I’m telling you this in warning that it’s best to keep on guard.”
“Thank you.” Elijah’s mouth turned tight and his eyes troubled.
Mary Jane reached for her reticule to pay the doctor’s fee, but Elijah drew the money from his pocket and paid it.
After the doctor left, she locked the door and stood watching her husband. “I never thought a train trip could be this dangerous.”
Elijah eyes were thoughtful. “Life is dangerous. Now there’s even more of a reason for you to stay with me, even if you don’t like the thought of rooming with a so-called murderer.”
“Everyone on that train and in this hotel thinks I am an Irishman’s wife. I daresay I am in more danger now than when I was plain old Mary Jane Lawson or because you were in jail for…” She crossed her arms, angry at the circumstance.
“Come on, you can say the word. Murder. I was found guilty and sentenced. I can understand any woman wanting to run away when she heard that. But I’ve been proven innocent and released, Mary Jane. I didn’t murder anyone.”
She drew in a deep breath, daring to meet his eyes. “How long were you in prison?”
“Five years.”
A noose squeezed her heart. “You were so young.”
“Twenty.”
“Not so much older than me.”
“I’m surprised you confessed your age earlier. So few women do.”
“When a woman confesses her age it often gives men and sometimes women an excuse to treat her differently. That is why I do not mention it.”
Curiosity burned in his eyes. “Treat her differently?”
“You are berated for being Irish, even though you are a citizen of the United States. I am berated for simply being a woman.”
That statement seemed to hold him speechless for some time. “There’s something else you aren’t saying, darlin’.”
She closed her eyes, weary from the night’s events. “At twenty-two, I am quite on the shelf.” He laughed, and her eyes popped open. Anger resurged. “What are you laughing at?”
“First, I know the fair sex is maligned by ignorant men. I think men should protect their women. And I won’t allow a woman to be mistreated by any man if I know about it. Your age…well, a man would have to be half mad if he didn’t see you for more than your age.” He walked around her, his gaze assessing. His voice lowered, the husky sound rich with Ireland. “Sure, and a fool wouldn’t see your rich, dark hair with those pretty red highlights, or the way your cheeks color when you’re furious or…” He stopped in front of her, heat in his eyes. “Or aroused.”
Oh. My. Elijah’s words played with her senses, engulfing her in a soft but alarming place. “Aroused?”
His voice went even deeper. “I could see it when I kissed you…each time I kissed you. There is a look in your eyes. Hunger.
Curiosity. It makes me want to peel your clothes off and find out if that pretty skin goes pink everywhere when I touch you.”
Shocked, she wanted to deny the images and feelings his statements produced. The way he looked at her, as if he could kiss her and not stop until this blinding craving swallowed her whole… “No. This is too much.”
“You seem like the type of woman who enjoys the truth and recognizes it when she hears it and sees it. From the first moment I saw you, Mary Jane, I knew you were different. You are beautiful, accomplished and intelligent. And you’re strong. Yet you keep the real Mary Jane Lawson locked up in stiff corsets and big-arsed crinolines. When you were fighting with me in the rain, well, that was the real Mary Jane.”
His words spun her around, dazzled her with gratification. Yet the skeptic inside her would have none of it. “It is certainly a pretty speech.”
He grunted, his expression returning to granite. “Because no man has had the bravery to say it to your face before, that makes it untrue?”
Oh, she hated how his words threw her into an uncomfortable place. Especially when she couldn’t form a word of denial. So she said nothing.
“You really do think I’m a jackass, don’t you?” he finally asked.
“This is so complicated. Your mockery earlier leads me to think what you say cannot be trusted.”
He shook his head and returned to the bed. He lay back on the bed and folded his hands over his lean stomach. “I apologize if I sounded mocking. It’s amazing I can find coherent words at all.”
“Oh?”
“Five years in solitary confinement—” He broke off as raw emotion entered his turbulent eyes.
Concern overwhelmed Mary Jane. She walked towards him. “I heard that Eastern State Penitentiary was a model place to reform prisoners.”
Darkness entered his eyes, a desire to bury a horror too wretched to imagine. “It is long over.”
“Not in your mind.” Her voice softened. “Not yet.”
He placed the heels of his hands over his eyes, and his words came harshly. “I’ll conquer it. I’ll drive it out.” He lowered his hands and masked the haunted expression. “Everything I’ve said since you entered this room tonight is the truth. You are beautiful, intelligent, and any man would be lucky and proud to have you by his side. And when you came in the room tonight you were worried about me. I just can’t figure why.”
Why indeed? Examining those thoughts too closely disturbed her. “I told you. As your wife it makes sense I would be worried.”
“Yes, but the point of this is that you aren’t my wife. You think I’m a rounder.”
“A scoundrel at the very least,” she said.
His mouth curved in a devilish grin. “There you have it. I’m a man of few scruples.”
Elijah’s sparkling eyes caught her up in the fun, made her lips turn up even though she did not wish to like either his attitude or him. “How can you make light when someone attacked you because you are Irish?”
“I am used to people wanting to kill me because I’m Irish. For wanting to kill me whether I’m Irish or not.”
“That is preposterous. This is the United States of America, not some waterhole in…in…”
“Europe? You don’t think there are backwaters here? Places where bad things happen and no one cares?”
She paced, agitation gathering inside her like a beast on a tether. “Not in civilized, polite society. It is unacceptable. Perfectly barbaric.” She stopped pacing and turned to him. “Did people try to kill you in prison?”
“No.”
“But there are many awful men in prison.”
“And women.”
“Women?” The thought took her off guard, and then she shook herself.
“They weren’t housed with the men.”
She almost asked him to explain, then thought better of it. Listening to his sordid experiences could not be healthy for her. Well, her mother would say so, anyway.
“Come and sit down. You’re about to wear a hole in the floor, wife.”
She halted, not the least surprised by his request. “What difference does it make how many times someone tries to murder you? How indifferent can you be?”
He rose from the bed once more, his stride unruffled as he stood near her once more. She could feel his body heat and smell his pleasant, masculine aroma. “Yeah, I’m mighty worked up over someone trying to do in me in. But I doubt it was the same people who killed the married couple. My guess is the two men are all het up because I spoiled their plans to hurt you in that alley.”
Mary Jane’s mind whirled with questions. “What I honestly do not understand is why you have gone to such great lengths to protect me. I just told you this evening to stay away from me and that I wanted nothing to do with you. Yet you finagled a room next to mine. Why?”
“I didn’t have to finagle a room next to yours. I didn’t know it was next to yours until the desk clerk mentioned it. I think he guessed we were fighting and wanted to help us mend the fence.”
She sniffed. “Doubtful.”
His fingers trailed a warm path from her temple to her chin. He tilted up her face so she must gaze into the searching depth of his eyes. “I’m happy you’re with me and that you’re safe, Mary Jane. First, any man could see that you’re without chaperone and on top of that, in mourning. When those men started watching you like buzzards, I knew what they wanted. They saw a woman without protection. I couldn’t live with myself if I let that pass.”
“You were staring at me rather rudely.”
He shrugged. “I’d apologize, but I’m not sorry. I wondered what had happened…whether you’d lost a husband. I cursed myself because I’d no business thinking you were one of the prettiest women I’d ever seen and there was something about you…”
His gaze turned warmer, smoldering now with a banked heat that drew her a step forward even though it terrified her at the same time. “Something?”
“Yes.” Elijah shook his head and broke the spell starting to surround them. He frowned. “Those clothes are still damp.”
His abrupt change took her a moment to assimilate. “Yes. Why?”
“Take them off.”
“What?”
“We can’t have you turning ill. Take them off and lay them on the chair. Climb into bed where it’s warm.”
Her protest came out without thought. “I have my own bed. You should lie down and rest after your injury.”
“You heard the doctor. You’re staying here to look after me awhile.”
She puffed up. “I will sleep in the chair.”
He rolled his eyes. “You can’t sleep in the chair.”
“Why not? You did the other night when we shared a room.”
A muscle jumped in Elijah’s jaw line. “I wasn’t wearing wet clothes.”
She made a mocking sound. “I am not fragile. I can sleep in a chair.”
“There is only one blanket on this bed, and you can’t sit in a chair all night in your unmentionables. You’ll get cold.” He turned suddenly cool, detached eyes upon her. “Don’t fret, Mary Jane. We can share the bed without me turning into a ravening beast. You can trust me.”
She almost refused. Almost stood her ground, determined to sleep in her clothing. An injured man surely would not touch her inappropriately. Of course, he had already kissed her tonight. Elijah had touched her often since he met her, and yet here she stayed, acting once more as his wife.
What choice did she have? As the rain continued, lightning crackled over the building and reminded her she had no retreat. “Very well. I will gather my other things.”
She withdrew to her room, her mind roiling with a confusing mix of distrust and treacherous feelings that would not disappear no matter how hard she tried to banish them.
Chapter Eight
Elijah awoke the next morning wishing that he’d slept in the chair.
As God is my witness, this was not a good idea.
Sunlight streamed under the
curtains and sent an arrow over the wood floor and the foot of the bed. Daytime had come, but with it a new challenge.
Mary Jane’s sweet bottom nestled against Elijah’s erection. He didn’t want to wake her by moving, but not moving threatened to kill him. Her delicious body cuddled against him, his left arm encircling her, his palm cradling a lush breast covered by a thin barrier. Sure, McKinnon, and the fact she hasn’t awakened is amazing.
His fingers contracted over giving, round flesh, and when he brushed over her nipple, it beaded to a hard point. She moaned softly. Satisfaction ate a hole in him. Even in sleep she was aroused. Even if her virginal body had never known a man’s thrust, she knew passion when she felt it. God help him, but he wanted her with a raw lust that threatened to erode decency. His body had a life of its own. His cock felt like it would burst. He’d been a damned fool believing he could sleep all night in this bed with this woman and not want her. Wanting and taking were two different animals, though, and he’d never consider stealing something not freely given to him.
You don’t have time for this, boy. Mary Jane is a forever kind of woman, and after you hunt down Amos, there isn’t a forever for you. Just remember that.
He could abandon the train, get a horse and take off. Leave Mary Jane to her own devices. He’d thought about it more than once. Problem was, he didn’t have enough money to buy a horse, and the train would be faster. He didn’t know this area well enough to ride over the mountains and arrive in Pittsburgh in one piece and successfully hunt down Amos.
He was stuck with the train and the temptation of Mary Jane.
He wouldn’t leave her unprotected, no matter what his goal.
He closed his eyes and committed to memory the soft weight of her breast in his cupped hand. He wanted to lick and kiss and nibble until she writhed, until she begged him to enter her depths and ride her into oblivion. Her slim waist, rounded hips and cushioning ass drove him to this side of insanity.
Before the Dawn Page 10