Austin noticed the change in her voice. The soft rage that slipped into it.
“I began to pay attention,” she said as she turned to the window, staring out into the night as she continued. “I saw the looks they shared. The smiles across the dinner table. At parties, sometimes, they would both disappear. I realized it wasn’t me he loved. My heart was broken.”
“You should’ve left the cheating sonofabitch,” Austin blurted out, angry at the man who had hurt her.
She looked over her shoulder at him. “Yes, I should have left and I wish I had. You cannot know how much I wish I had packed up my things and said goodbye.”
The regret she expressed drew him to her side. He draped his arm around her back and rubbed her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. You did what any lady would have done. You kept your vows.” He felt her shoulder sag.
“I killed them.”
“What?” He blinked, startled by her admission.
“Stephen had a luxury suite in one of the hotels in San Francisco that he said he kept reserved for his clients. I started following him and I found out that was where they secretly met every week.” She stopped a moment and took a deep breath. “I wanted to expose them. I wanted the scandal to ruin their reputations. I planned to make them as miserable as they had made me.”
She let out a long sigh. “While Stephen and Amelia were having their weekly rendezvous at the hotel, I went to see Amelia’s husband, Patrick. I had hoped for an ally. Instead, Patrick accused me of lying about Amelia and of being jealous of her because she was so beautiful. I challenged Patrick to come with me to the hotel. I wanted him to see for himself what kind of woman he had married and what kind of man pretended to be his best friend. I truly don’t recall ever being more furious.”
She rubbed her forehead. “I remember entering the hotel with Patrick walking sullenly beside me. I had a key to the room.” She explained how she had stopped by the hotel earlier that morning and told the desk clerk she needed the spare key to her husband’s suite. “As we walked down the hallway, I wondered how Stephen and Amelia would explain themselves. I hoped I wouldn’t laugh too hysterically.
“I didn’t laugh at all.” She dropped down in the armchair as if she could no longer stand. “It happened so fast. Patrick went into a rage when he saw them. I didn’t know he had a gun.” She shook her head. “He started shooting. Stephen first, Amelia next and then he turned the gun on himself.
“Stephen lived a few minutes. Long enough for me to tell him I was sorry. And I’ve apologized every day since then. I know they did wrong too, but I should have handled the situation differently. If I had, they would still be alive.”
In some ways, Austin understood how she felt. “I wasn’t home the night my mother was killed. I went on a five-year rampage, trying to settle the score and make myself feel better.” He took off his gun belt, put it on the dresser and walked over to the washstand. “I’ve learned guilt is just a way of punishing yourself. It serves no good purpose.”
As he splashed water on his face, he heard the rustle of her skirts as she got to her feet. He mopped his face with a towel as he glanced her way. She stood with her back to him, looking out the window again. Blonde curls trailed down her back and her bottom was hidden beneath a protrusion of silk ruffles and pleats. Topping off her bustle was a wide black bow.
He grinned as he admired the big bow riding high on her hips. She was like a pretty package. A gift all wrapped up in black. He wanted to unwrap her. Slowly.
“Storm’s coming,” she remarked quietly as a distant flash of light illuminated the dark horizon.
As far as he was concerned, the storm was already here. Inside him. He walked over to the window where she stood, drawn by a force he could not resist.
As he touched her hair, she told herself she should go. Staying was not wise. She knew exactly where that would lead, yet she remained. She closed her eyes and imagined his hands on her flesh and his mouth on hers, kissing her so deep and long she could not breathe. He was the first man she had ever longed to lie down with. It was a strange feeling, new to her even though she had been married. Stephen had not come to her bed often because he claimed a gentleman did not inflict himself on his wife any more than necessary. Sex had been perfunctory, unimportant to her. She had never known what it was like to feel such an arousing hunger for a man’s touch.
She wanted to be his.
She knew all she had to do was turn around.
“Darcy—” His husky voice revealed both his desire and desperation.
She turned around.
He pinned her with a knowing gaze and drew her to him. The atmosphere seemed suddenly charged with their passion. She had no shame or control as her mouth eagerly sought his. She angled her head as his lips urgently brushed over hers, coaxing them open with his wet tongue. He slowly explored her mouth and the delicious sensation caused her to sway against him. Grasping his strong shoulders for support, she ignored the dull pain across her right wrist. He kissed the soft hollow of her throat as he thumbed open the buttons of her bodice.
She caressed his dark hair as she gave in to the strong urges taking control of her body. The arousal she felt was disconcerting but she had no will to stop him. She helped him disrobe her body. She wanted to be free of her clothes. As he tugged her bodice past her arms, the fabric scraped across the red welt on her wrist. She let out a small cry.
“What is it?” he said in surprise.
“Nothing. I burned my wrist ironing this afternoon,” she lied smoothly as she carefully slid her wrist and hand out of the sleeve.
“I’m sorry.” He stroked her arm gingerly.
She didn’t want to dwell on her injury or the man who had inflicted it. Not now. She gave Austin a kiss. Then she discarded her skirt, bustle and petticoat.
Amused, he said, “Beats me as to why women wear so much clothing.”
She shrugged. “It’s fashionable.” As she started to unhook her corset, she noticed the hungry glint in his gray eyes. She wet her lips, wondering if she had taken on more than she could handle. “Are you going to keep your clothes on?” she asked pointedly.
It took him a lot less time to shed his clothing and he didn’t have the patience to wait on her. The bedsprings creaked as he dropped onto the mattress with her. He tugged her chemise over her head and tossed it aside. She was naked in his arms and there was no turning back now.
She closed her eyes as he ran his hands over her body. Leisurely stroking her arms, back and hips. His touch was relaxing and comforting. She practically purred against his throat. Nuzzling the salty flesh of his neck, she did some exploring of her own. She raked her fingertips down his breastbone into the thatch of hair in the center of his chest and over the solid muscles of his torso. “You would make a good model.”
“A what?” He lifted her chin so he could look into her eyes.
“A model. You know, all the great artists, like Michelangelo, had models pose for them to paint. Sometimes naked,” she added like someone divulging an outrageous secret.
His gray eyes widened. Then his mouth curved into a smile that became a laugh. One he could not control. His body shook with laughter as he fell back on the mattress. She had no idea why he thought what she’d said was so funny, but it was the first time she had seen him laugh. Laughter was becoming on him, and she had never wanted anything more than she wanted him.
He pinned her with a knowing gaze as his laughter faded. He drew her to him. She had no shame or control as she sank down on his body. Their lips melted together as their hands clasped together. Fingers laced, then splayed.
“You want to know something?” She smiled as she pulled her mouth from his.
“I never noticed how much you talk until now.”
She walked her fingers across his chest. “You’re a better kisser than you were years ago.”
“So are you.” He hooked his arm around her and rolled her onto her back. More kisses followed as he nipped the soft flesh of her
throat and lifted her breast to his lips. She pressed her fist against her mouth to stifle her cries when his tongue stroked over her nipple. Her hips rocked in response to the fiery sensations burning in her loins. She found herself delighting in the passion overwhelming her, despite knowing no true lady would ever display such risqué behavior.
The headmistress at the San Francisco Academy for Young Ladies would be horrified to see the academy’s star pupil now. She had barely completed that thought when he pressed his hand between her thighs. The touch sent a jolt through her body. “Austin,” she gasped and he gently kissed her neck and reassured her as his intimate exploration of her body became bold and deep. She warmed to his touch, relaxing and opening.
He lifted his head and stared wantonly into her eyes. She returned his raw gaze. The ache deep in her womb made her whimper and she nudged invitingly against his hard sex. “I want you. Now.”
A sigh of relief escaped her lips as he thrust deep inside her. She heard him groan deeply as she gripped him tightly with both the muscles inside her and the muscles of her legs that she wrapped around his waist. She knew the agony he felt. It was exquisite and unlike anything she had ever experienced. She surrendered to it, to him.
They mated in a fiery rhythm, and when the first sensation of deep pleasure darted through her, she pressed her mouth against his upper arm to stifle her sobs. He gripped her hips and drove into her until a powerful release surged through their melded bodies and left them both limp and exhausted.
She combed his sweaty hair off his forehead and he said, “I couldn’t swat a fly.”
“Neither could I,” she agreed as she lay across his chest. She heard the comforting pulse of his heartbeat and she closed her eyes.
An hour later, she awoke from her nap and lifted her head. His eyes were closed and she moved carefully, trying not to wake him as she eased her body from his.
His gray eyes fluttered open. “You’re not getting up, are you?”
She swung her legs off the bed and scooped up her shimmy. Her wrist throbbed as the fabric brushed across the red welt on her skin. She slipped on the long lace-trimmed chemise. It had been easy enough to forget her troubles while she was in Austin’s arms, swept into a fantasy. Now reality was back, ominous and foreboding.
She turned her head and spoke over her shoulder. “Do you know if Cole planned to go to Miss Luellen’s tonight?”
“Huh?”
She shifted on the mattress and looked toward Austin. “Did he mention that he might be visiting Miss Luellen’s establishment tonight?” She was counting heavily on that.
Austin wondered why she was interested in Cole’s whereabouts. His old friend was definitely a ladies’ man and even the most decent of women were charmed by his gallant manners. Cole knew how to win over a woman. Had he won over Darcy? “Knowing Cole, he’s probably at the whorehouse,” Austin remarked coldly as he sat up. “Why does that matter to you?”
“I must get a note to Jesse. If Cole is at Miss Luellen’s, I can give it to him”
Austin watched as she secured her petticoats and continued to dress. He felt slightly bereft. One minute she was in his arms, loving him the way he had always dreamed about, and the next she was worried about getting a note to Jesse.
“Are you planning to go to the whorehouse to find Cole?” He recalled how she had been quick to remind him of what was appropriate behavior. “Do you consider that proper?”
She shrugged while she hooked her corset. “I have no choice.” She gave him a pleading glance with those pretty green eyes of her. They easily turned him to mush. “Will you accompany me?”
What choice did he have? He wasn’t about to let her go to Miss Luellen’s alone.
Groaning, he got up and started dressing. “You want to tell me what this is about?”
He saw the look of hesitation on her face.
“Tell me,” he ordered as he fastened his pants and pulled on his shirt.
“It was rather strange.” She braided her hair while she spoke. “When I was on my way back to town this morning, a man stopped me. I had never seen him before, but he knew who I was.”
Austin noticed Darcy favoring her injured wrist as she paced about nervously. He knew she had not burned her wrist with the iron as she had claimed. “Was he a Pinkerton?”
She shook her head. “No, but he is after Jesse and Frank. He said as much.”
“Did he tell you his name?” Austin asked the question impassively to draw the truth out of her.
“He said his name was Gabriel Wallace.”
Gabriel Wallace. Austin buttoned his shirt. He had never met the ruthless bastard, but he had heard of him. Wallace was well-known in the Southwest as a hired gun with no conscience. He tracked down men for reward money and never brought them in alive.
“What else did he tell you?”
“Things that—” She paused and her face clouded with uneasiness. “Things that were strange. He talked about the angel Gabriel, and how he was God’s messenger.”
“God’s messenger?” Austin responded in disbelief. Hell, Wallace was as far away from a deity as you could get.
“He said he had a message for me to give the Boys.”
Austin stepped into his boots and walked over to where she stood. He pulled her into his arms because he wanted to hold her and because she looked as if she needed to be held. She clung desperately to him. He pressed his lips against her soft, tangled hair. “You didn’t burn your wrist,” he said softly. “It was Wallace. What happened?” He felt her grip on his waist tightened.
“He mentioned you,” she answered. As she told him what had happened, rage stirred inside him. The night his mother had been murdered, a dragon had been born inside him, sired by fury and injustice. The beast had been asleep for a long, long time. But now it had been awakened from its slumber.
“What was the message he wanted deliver to the Boys?” Austin intended to deliver it personally.
“Actually, it was a Bible verse. One about Death riding a pale horse. He said it came from the Book of Revelation.”
Austin immediately connected the verse to the one that had been found on Molly Slater’s body. Gabriel Wallace had killed a whore? To what end, he wondered and then he knew as he looked at Darcy. Wallace was using the women as a means to call them out. Well, his ploy had worked. Austin reached for his gun belt. “I’m going to go find Cole and I’ll see to it Jesse knows about Wallace. You stay here and keep the door locked.”
“Stay here?”
He buckled on his gun belt. “This is a hotel. You’ll be safe here.” He strode over to her and gave her a quick kiss. “I’ll be back in a while.”
Chapter Seven
Gabriel Wallace stood at the bar in the saloon. Business was slow since it was late on a Thursday night, and thunder rumbled in the heavens. Only two of the card tables were occupied with men, who obviously had nothing else better to do. The bartender, who was busy drying glasses, talked to a skinny young woman leaning against the bar. Wallace assumed the woman not only served drinks but also sold herself cheaply. She had smiled suggestively at him several times, but he was not interested in anything she had to offer.
“You want something stronger than coffee?” the bartender asked, and Wallace shook his head.
He never drank whiskey. Drinking impaired one’s mental state and Wallace valued being alert. Alertness kept him alive. Along with being able to handle a weapon with speed, accuracy and no regret. He could take a life without blinking an eye. That was a great deal more than he could say for his cowardly father. Wallace despised his Quaker upbringing and the way his pacifist family never defended themselves from ridicule. Proudly, he had never tilled the ground for a living nor had anyone ever mocked him. And he had made a substantial living in the Southwest without ever breaking a sweat.
Times were changing for him these days. Lawmen kept too close an eye on him. Once he had heard about the big reward offered for the James gang, his plans for the future began t
o evolve. With that kind of money, he could leave the country. Head to South America where he would buy himself a large spread.
He glanced up as a figure appeared at the saloon doors and he gripped the butt of his Smith &Wesson. The young cowboy who waltzed into the saloon did not appear to be a threat. One of the men at a card table said, “Howdy.”
The kid, who looked to be about twenty, responded with a smile. Full of energy and smiling, he pulled up a chair, flipped it backward and started chatting with the card players. Wallace’s gaze move from him back to the doorway. Sooner or later, the Boys would show up. He figured the girl had gotten word to them and, unless he was way off his mark, they would come. He had already run several gunfight scenarios through his mind. One in the saloon, one in the street, one just outside his hotel. Fortunately, the odds were in his favor even though he would be outnumbered.
He was fast and accurate. He only missed intentionally and he always shot to kill. On the other hand, the former farm boys turned outlaws couldn’t hit the broadside of a barn. He had heard witnesses talk about their robberies and it appeared they often hit bystanders accidentally. If you were a skillful gunman who knew how to handle your weapon, you never hit anything by accident. He figured he could nail all five of them using one pistol.
The youngster crossed the room to join the other table of card players. Once again, he pulled up a chair, flipped it backward and sat down to visit. Within five minutes, he was on his feet again.
“I’m thirsty.” He headed toward the bar and Wallace was glad he went to the opposite end of the bar, where he joined the bartender and the girl. They huddled and spoke in whispers as if they were old ladies sharing gossip. The bartender got the kid a beer, put it on the counter, then spoke to Wallace in a rude tone. “You want anything else?”
With a frown, Wallace replied, “Did I ask for anything else?”
“Sir, if you’d like something stronger, I’m buying,” the kid offered. “The beer’s real good.”
Wallace sent him a cold stare. “Mind your own business, boy.”
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