by Gini Rifkin
Losing their footing, the horses had to swim for it, and the current started dragging the animals and wagon downstream. On the far bank, a low rocky cliff loomed off to the left, a stand of trees stood on the right. With limited open space upon which to come ashore, they had to make land between the two obstacles.
“Swim, you poor hay-burners,” he hollered. The beasts touched bottom and strained forward. “Keep on,” he encouraged. With the wagon still afloat, they weren’t safe yet.
The wheels finally grabbed hold, first the front, then the rear. They broke free of the water, and the team struggled up the incline. As they careened over the smooth stones, the wheel hubs on the left scraped the rock wall. Then they reached a patch of mud, and the wagon skidded to the right, sending them into the thick stand of fir trees. Raspy branches and low-hanging boughs whipped dangerously close, threatening to tear them off the wagon seat.
Britania threw herself sideway, landing in his lap. When they reached land with more stable ground, he reined the wagon to a halt, and without thinking, gathered her in his arms. His vow to keep his distance forgotten and forsaken, his blood running high from their narrow escape, he kissed her long and hard. Then he drew back, expecting a slap across the face.
To his surprise, Britania recaptured his mouth with hers, wrapping her arms around his neck, drawing him even closer. Bodies pressed against one another, she teased him with soft lips, and softer sighs. He held her tight, accepting her invitation of parted lips, and as tongues touched in an intimate dance, she melted into his embrace. Even the cold rain couldn’t damp down the heat stampeding through his body. Then the horses snorted and shied about, and the wagon jerked forward, jarring them apart and bringing them to their senses.
They stared at on another, and he wondered who seemed more surprised. She turned away first, but not before he glimpsed the fire of emotion shining in her eyes. Scooting away, she stared straight ahead and gathered the coat closer. “Do we have much farther to go today?” she asked, her voice breathy and needful. She touched the fingertips of one hand to her lips as if to stop herself from saying more, or as if reliving the feel of his mouth on hers.
“Maybe a couple of hours. Unless you want to stop now?”
Please say no, he prayed. Miss Rule had tasted far too sweet for comfort. He wanted more of what he’d just had—a lot more. Camping here tonight would be a disaster. He couldn’t sleep beside her again and not touch her. He could only hope the feeling would wear off after a few more hours in the cold.
“We’d best go on,” she whispered.
His shoulders sagged in relief, and he urged the tired horses into a walk, muttering singsong promises of extra grain for their supper.
****
As darkness fell, the rain eased up, and the road widened. A broken wagon wheel lay abandoned on the left, and a water barrel missing several staves stood a lopsided guardsman on the right. He could smell a wood-fire burning, and by all indications, he reckoned there must be a town up ahead. It had to be Frisco.
“It’s getting awfully dark,” Britania spoke for the first time since their kissing and touching. “Shouldn’t we be looking for a place to camp?” Her voice sounded dejected, and she sat like a flower drooping after a heavy storm.
“Not to worry. We’ll be stopping soon enough.”
“Well, don’t expect me to cook in the dark. And how are we ever going to be able to sleep in all this mud? There probably isn’t enough dry wood around to warm up a decent cup of tea, let alone the both of us.”
He didn’t reply, cruelly letting her think the worst. Then they rounded the next bend, and a row of lights dotting the horizon came into view.
“Oh, Lord have mercy. Is that a city I see?”
“Yep.”
“One with hotels and a restaurant?”
“Featherbeds, hot baths, and all.”
“Saints be praised. I take back all the terrible things I just cursed you with.”
“Good to know,” he said, with a raised brow. The grim pictures on the Tarot cards loomed up in the back of his mind. This little gal had some odd ways about her; best not ever get on her bad side.
He reined in at the entrance to the Frisco Hotel, and dripping water, they entered the lobby, a few pieces of luggage in tow. A fire in the hearth warmed the area, bringing a glow to Britania’s cheeks. She didn’t even appear unsettled by the trophy-mounted buffalo, moose, and elk heads peering down at them from the walls—noble sentries with unseeing eyes. A gilded mirror hung above the piano, and over-stuffed chairs filled all the available nooks and crannies.
“Two rooms please,” he requested at the desk. “And livery for our horses.”
“No problem about the livery,” the spry little man behind the counter chirped. “But there’s not but one room left.”
“Does it have a bath?”
“Right next door, sir. Biggest tub in town.”
“We’ll take it.”
He shot one of his best glares at Britania, stifling any protest. They both needed the comforts of a decent room. They could work out the details later. To his good fortune, she waited until they were in their room before unleashing her indignation.
After flinging her baggage on the bed, she whirled around to face him. “Because I let you steal one kiss, does not mean you are entitled to spend the entire night with me,” she lectured, hands on hips.
“First of all, Miss Rule, I didn’t steal anything. You were kissing me back and making things a whole lot more interesting than I intended. And second of all, I’ll sleep on the couch over there. You are damn tempting, but I’ve never had to force a woman to sleep with me, and I don’t intend to start now.” Did a look of disappointment cross her face? Probably wishful thinking. “I’ll see to the horses and order food to be sent to the room. You take first crack at the bathtub.”
Not waiting for a reply, he left the room and headed down the stairs to the lobby. Women, they always thought the worst of a man, most likely with good reason, but it mattered what Britania thought of him—the fact it did matter boded ill. It felt as if he walked on thin ice, more dangerous than the creaking winding backstairs of this hotel. Up until now, intermittently lucky at cards, always unlucky at love had become his way of life. A compromise he’d been willing to live by. How could one charming little raconteur ruin a lifelong philosophy?
Reaching the lobby, he ordered two prime rib dinners with all the trimmings. And coffee, lots of coffee, he couldn’t face another cup of tea.
“I’ll give you a heads up when we’re ready to have it brought to the room,” he instructed the clerk.
Heading back toward the main entrance, he noticed the saloon off to the left. A shot of redeye sounded even better than coffee, but the horses came first.
Chapter Eight
Britania double-checked the lock on the bathing chamber, stepped into the tub, and with a thankful prayer and a great big sigh, eased down into the hot water. Sore muscles and bruised skin surrendered to the heavenly healing comfort, and employing a precious sliver of lavender soap, she washed her hair and lathered the sweet smelling bubbles over her body. Her fears of never being clean again dissolved away with the dirt.
Eyes closed, she leaned her head back against the edge of the tub. So far, traveling in the backcountry proved both mentally challenging and physically exhausting, but with the calming effects of the bath, optimism found new life. Warm and drowsy, she lingered in the warm cocoon of contentment.
****
“One whiskey,” Cody said, giving the barkeep an amiable nod.
“Staying or passing through?” the man asked, setting him up.
“Heading for Leadville. Ever been there?”
“Once or twice. Not recently. Getting too fractious for my taste.”
“How so?”
“Lots of no accounts and trouble-makers hangin’ out there these days. Best to watch your step yonder.”
“I’ll do that. Any good gambling houses up there?”
“Depends what you mean by good, mister. The biggest one is The Silver Moon. Biggest stakes and biggest risks. But the owner don’t cotton to losing. Some say he even rigs the tables, but ain’t nobody been able to catch him at it. Or if’n they has,” he added, looking him up and down, “nobody’s been brave enough to call him out. Still, on occasion a body gets lucky at the Moon.”
“Thanks for the information.” Cody raised his drink in salute, and took a sip.
The high stakes sounded just the thing, and he could handle the rest. He doubted this gambling parlor would be any tougher or meaner than any other place he’d been in, the women equally as faithless—like the one and only gal he’d bothered to love. She’d run off with his worst enemy, adding insult to injury. Later, he found out she died, and while he forgave her foolishness, he never forgot the pain she’d caused, and he didn’t intend to suffer such again.
Leaving a few coins on the bar, he grabbed a newspaper, and drink in hand, settled into a chair by the wall in the lounge area. Halfway through the first article, the words swam before his eyes, dancing and merging into an image of Britania naked in the tub upstairs. If this kept up, he’d need a good soaking in a cold creek rather than a hot bath.
Even when not at his side, he couldn’t get her out of his mind. Not a good sign. What did she think of him? His attempts to make the trip a little more comfortable seemed appreciated, and she’d mended his shirt, a kindness that tugged at his heart. Guess they were both reaching out for a little comfort, or a lot of comfort based on her kisses. She’d acted like it had been a momentary lapse of good judgment, but he wondered if deep down inside she might want more. He sure as hell did.
He scrubbed one hand across his face, changing the direction of his thoughts. What circumstances had driven her to this impasse in her life? He hadn’t asked and didn’t intend to. He couldn’t claim a golden past either—no use trading tales of woe. Besides, he wanted to forget his past, not resurrect it. And everybody deserved a chance at a new beginning at least once in their lives.
****
The water turned cold, forcing her from the tub, and wearing a cotton shift with her wet hair wrapped in a towel, Britania peeked out of the bathing chamber then scurried back to their room. Their room, the words echoed and teased through her mind. Closing the door at her back, she hurried over to the bed and rummaged in her baggage for a clean change of clothes.
What would Cody like? Fists clenched at her sides, she chided herself. It didn’t matter what he might fancy. She needed to stick to her plan, not get sidetracked by heart-stopping brown eyes and a wayward smile.
But what if they just stayed here in Frisco—together. Did that seem so far beyond the realm of possibilities? Yes, she countered. She mustn’t throw caution to the wind at this stage of the game. Besides, he’d given her no indication that such a thought ever crossed his mind.
Grabbing up the little velvet bag containing her Tarot cards, she hugged it to her chest. She hadn’t even reached the town fated to be her journey’s end, and already she toyed with the idea of ignoring her path of destiny. But then who could blame her?
When Cody looked at her, a fever possessed her, rendering clear thinking beyond her scope. Her response—completely physical, no commonsense involved at all—felt wonderful. Every fiber of her being seemed to ache for his touch, begging for him to release the flood of emotions building up inside of her. Traveling beside him and not seeking solace in his arms had become a torment, a delicious anguish she wished he would end by making love to her. The memory of their stolen kisses left her fighting for a decent breath. The brief taste of him left her hungry for more.
She slipped out of her shift and into a beribboned camisole, the cool fabric caressing her skin like a lover’s touch. What would he think if he saw her in this? Suggestive images sent her heart tripping forward double-time. Knees weak, she sank down onto the edge of the bed. Then seeking refuge from the urges she dare not give into, she crawled beneath the counter-pane, curled up, and closed her eyes. It wouldn’t hurt to daydream.
****
After nearly an hour of soul searching and mental sparring, Cody informed the front desk they could bring up the food. Then he took the stairs two at a time back to the room. His knocking garnered no response. Could she still be in the tub? The knob turned in his hand. Not even locked. Darn trusting female.
Inside, he found Britania asleep on the bed. A damp towel lay nearby. Her unbound wealth of hair fanned out on the pillow, a few golden ringlets coiling provocatively around her face. He had the urge to curl one of her locks around his finger.
She shifted, and the quilt slipped sideways revealing a delightful glimpse of lacy unmentionables, obviously part of the complement strewn around the back of the wagon. In the dim light, he stood gazing down at her, watching the gentle rise and fall of her scantily clad breasts. She smelled good enough to eat. Inhaling the lavender and powder fragrance rising up from her skin, he clenched his fist, blocking the urge to trace the curve of her lips. Soft warm lips he’d kissed so fleetingly. Memorable lips he longed to taste again. He jerked his hand away as if he’d been burned. He didn’t have the right to touch her. It would only be for one night, he couldn’t promise more. Maybe she wouldn’t care, but somehow he thought she would.
He glided the counterpane up over her shoulders, grabbed a clean shirt, and left the room. A few steps into the hall, he met the bell-hop delivering their supper. Instructing the boy to leave the food in the room, but not to wake the lady, he hung back making sure the young man didn’t linger over-long. After the lad disappeared down the backstairs, Cody took his turn at the bath.
The room remained warm and hazy with her scent—it felt like being held in her arms. How could he get through the night, having her so close, yet off limits?
Hunched on a nearby bench, he pulled off his boots and socks. Damn, he ought to burn the socks. No amount of washing could kill the odor they’d taken on. Unwilling to share the same room with them, he threw the foul things out the window. Standing, he tugged off his jeans—ah, sweet liberty. Being in constant proximity to Miss Rule kept his body in rigid turmoil, begging for relief. It seemed a lifetime since he’d wanted a woman so badly. Probably a case of wanting what he knew he couldn’t have.
Or did more than the randy hope of getting into her ruffled bloomers inspire the feelings he felt for her? Something about this woman touched his sorry soul. Maybe because he figured they were two of a kind. Fighting to make it in a world that didn’t give a damn if a person lived or died.
****
Britania squinted open her eyes. Food—she smelled food. Sitting up, she glanced around, orienting herself to time and place. “Cody?” She grabbed the quilt, pulling it up to her chin. He wasn’t in the room. A ripple of disappointment slid through her, followed by a swell of heat concentrated low and spreading inward. The throbbing had commenced during the dream still fresh in her mind—a down and dirty, mind blistering, sexy dream.
She wanted the dream to come true, wanted to give herself to him tonight. But what if he called her cheap and easy, the labels she fought so hard to avoid? She didn’t care. She craved the fire, knowing she might get burned. Craved to ride in reality, the body she had seen in her sleeping fantasy.
To be loved and desired ran deep in every creature’s heart—even if it only lasted for one extraordinary night? For that’s what it would be. Cody seemed as wild as the territory through which they traveled, valuing freedom second only to making money at the tables. Why would he wish to be shackled by long-range plans or complicated relationships? She didn’t blame him. Her goal of becoming financially secure stayed upper most in her mind too, seemingly all she thought and worried about. But people could change. It would be asking a lot. Would she be willing to give as much in return? Wouldn’t it be worth it to let him into her heart?
Sitting up, she tugged the string on the velvet bag, sending the Tarot cards spilling out onto the bed. Although she had used the cards to dec
ide her geographic destination, to read one’s own emotional situation carried stark warnings. It could be dangerous, the meaning too easily misinterpreted and bent by hope and desire. She shouldn’t do it. It would be tantamount to tempting Fate rather than honoring it.
She didn’t care.
With a shaking hand, she drew Temperance to represent herself. Then like an automaton, she drew a second card and another and another. She couldn’t mistake the message revealed. The wheel of fortune dared her to take a chance, the high priestess showed a woman incomplete and seeking a man to fulfill her. The moon told her to have confidence in her intuition and emotions, and the card indicating the determining force turned out to be the knight of swords, the same card she had chosen to represent Cody in his reading.
Could he be a part of her future, and not simply the guardian of her present?
Eyes closed, she concentrated harder before turning over the last window, the conclusion regarding her future. When she dared to look, her gaze fell upon the image of the lovers, their naked figures intertwined and lost in a world of their own. A world she ached to be part of.
“I thought you’d still be asleep.”
She hadn’t heard the door open or Cody enter the room. In a fluster, she grabbed for the cards, dropping the one still in her hand.
“Were you wishing this was us?” he asked, staring at the graphic depiction of carnal bliss.
“How long have you been standing there?” she countered, eyes downcast.
“Long enough. You haven’t answered the question.”
Her gaze flickered upward from the jumble of cards to his chest. Saints preserve her, there he stood, all scrubbed clean, warm, and irresistible. His unbuttoned white muslin shirt revealed his hard muscled abdomen, and the light sprinkling of dark hair on his chest glistened with random droplets of water. A large towel hugged his hips, and he held his boots in one hand, and rain soaked Levis’ in the other.