by Ann Collins
“I think I’m glad I didn’t meet your father.” He pushed his knife further away. “Did your father’s will also stipulate who would manage the hotel until your son came of age?”
“No.” She allowed herself a tiny smile. “He would be extremely aggravated if he knew I put myself in charge.”
“Your father was a fool. From what I’ve seen in the last few hours, you are perfectly capable of running this hotel on your own. You shouldn’t have to marry.”
Her heart beat faster at Alex’s simply stated compliment, at his belief in her. He was different from most men, who thought women were only good for homemaking, intimate relations, and childrearing.
“Thank you for saying that, Mr.—”
“Alex,” he broke in.
She nodded. “Alex. Your opinion, however, does not solve my problem. I need a husband.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Under normal circumstances, I might be flattered by your proposal, but I have a feeling you’re not being terribly picky at the moment.”
Heat flowed into her face. “It was either you or a convicted murderer sentenced to hang.”
“You really are scraping the bottom of the barrel,” he said, a note of sarcasm in his voice.
Julia couldn’t blame him for it.
He pointed to his scar. “This wouldn’t bother you?”
“How you look makes no difference to me.” He was, in fact, a good-looking man. She didn’t mind the scar.
He tapped his fingers on the tablecloth. “Was your marriage to Williamson a business arrangement?”
“Yes. He agreed to do it for the three thousand dollars I mentioned before. He also agreed to several conditions. I have some stipulations of my own.”
“I thought you might, although you’re not really in a position to make demands,” he said, diminishing her hopes of getting what she wanted. “Go ahead. Tell me.”
Just then the waiter arrived with their dinner, two plates of perfectly roasted, juicy, pink prime rib, mashed potatoes, and string beans. Alex’s stomach growled so loudly Julia felt a sense of relief. He wasn’t likely to leave the table—and her—until he had eaten.
The waiter bowed to them and moved on.
Alex leaned down and inhaled the smells from his plate. He cut off a piece of meat and stuck his fork into it. “Feel free to keep talking while I eat.”
Too nervous to swallow anything herself, she explained the rest of her proposition and the arrangements made with Phillip. “Tomorrow morning, in the presence of my lawyer, Phillip was going to sign a legal document stating that he would never seek any further financial remuneration from me. The ceremony is tomorrow evening, and upon its completion, Phillip was to receive his payment and leave the Hotel Grand Victoria for good. The same conditions would apply to you.”
The forkful of mashed potatoes in his hand stopped in midair. “I’d have to leave?” When she nodded, he said, “But I just got here. I haven’t even had a chance to explore the hotel yet.”
She chewed on her thumbnail, hating to compromise. However, he was injured, and she had promised him a room until the doctor pronounced him fit. “In light of your injuries, perhaps we can come to an agreement on your departure date. But you can’t stay too long. As I’m sure you can imagine, I cannot have my husband living nearby and working for me. What would people think?”
“What will they think if your newly wedded husband isn’t around at all?”
“I can handle that.”
“You have it all figured out, huh?” Alex shoveled in the mashed potatoes.
She blinked hard against a sudden surge of hot tears. “I’ve done my best in a situation I abhor. The will doesn’t say that I have to produce any children, only that I have to marry. I have no intention of consummating my marriage. Intimate relations are not part of the arrangement.”
He set down his fork. “You’re not giving me much incentive. I would have liked to … know you better. I admit I’m very attracted to you.” He shifted in his chair.
Julia tried to dismiss his statement. She had always attracted male attention. His was no different, she told herself, ignoring the flare of warmth inside her.
“Three thousand dollars should be plenty of incentive,” she said. “You came here in search of work.” She glanced at the frayed cuffs of his shirt, then quickly focused on the goblet at his fingertips.
He picked it up and gulped down half the water.
Julia cringed. This was not going the way she had hoped. But how could a drifter not jump at an offer of three thousand dollars?
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m in a bind, and the clock keeps ticking. I hope you’ll give my offer serious consideration.” Her legs began to shake, and she was glad they were concealed beneath her dress and the generous tablecloth. “For obvious reasons, I would appreciate an answer as quickly as possible.”
“I will think about it.” He kept eating, his eyes rarely moving away from her. Every so often he pursed his lips. She wished she knew what he was thinking. His expression told her nothing. At least he hadn’t told her “no.”
She picked up her fork and dipped it into the gravy-covered potatoes. She managed several bites while she tried to decide what more she could say or do to convince him. No shining revelations emerged.
When Alex finished his meal, she offered him the rest of hers. “I’m not hungry, and I would hate for it to go to waste.”
“Pass it over.”
She did, and he tucked into it as if he hadn’t eaten anything yet. When he finished, he pushed her plate away and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “That was delicious. My compliments to the chef.”
“I’ll tell him when I see him later.” She waited for Alex to say more, too afraid to ask him outright what she so needed to know.
He sighed. “Julia, money-wise, your offer is something not too many men would easily dismiss. However, money is not that important to me. Not anymore.”
Her near-empty stomach seemed to drop to the floor. Oh, Lord, was he turning her down?
“I had money once,” he continued. “Quite of bit of it for a while, but it was never enough for my wife. If I marry again, money will not enter into the equation.”
She forced herself not to slump in her seat. Though she had wanted to learn more about Alex MacLean, Julia had not expected to hear it now, or that his marriage had not been as perfect as she assumed.
“Is there anything that you do want?” she asked in a last-ditch effort, trying not to sound as desperate as she felt. She held her breath.
He pulled his hands off the table, rolled his shoulders, and leaned from side-to-side, as if to ease the ache in his injured body, but also to give him time to formulate his response. Waiters flitted throughout the room, clearing plates and pouring coffee. While the string quartet took a break, conversations whirred. Boisterous laughter broke out at a table of eight.
“Miss Fairbanks,” he said, “I think you should take a breath before you suffocate.”
Her breath came out in a rush while heat flooded her cheeks. Despite her embarrassment, she felt a shiver of awareness dance over her flesh. She seriously doubted if, in the same situation, anyone else would have noticed she was holding her breath. Alex MacLean seemed much too observant where she was concerned.
“Better?” he asked.
She nodded, but as she waited to find out if there was any last hope for her, she felt as if she were suspended over a school of circling sharks.
“Julia, what I want is a marriage before God, a woman who loves me, and children. I admit that I’m a drifter, but I’m drifting toward the life I someday hope to have, a life with love and purpose and responsibilities. You and I want different things, and for that reason, I must decline your offer. I can’t help you.”
She sagged in her chair, feeling as if the hotel were sliding into the ocean, out of her reach. She had thought Alex might be the answer to her prayers, but prayers often went unanswered. She could not fault his decision, tho
ugh. In fact, she admired his reasons for turning her down. He deserved the life he wanted. Oddly enough, Julia envied the woman he would one day marry, whomever she was.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
She slowly scooted herself back up in her chair. “So am I, but I don’t blame you. I was being selfish, thinking only of what I wanted. If you said vows with me, you wouldn’t be free to marry the woman who’s waiting for you somewhere out there.” She waved her arm at the window, and a hollowness spread through her heart. She tried to convince herself it had nothing to do with Alex and everything to do with the rapidly growing prospect of losing her home.
“Not truly selfish.” He shifted his goblet aside. “You’re trying to look after the hotel and your employees. That’s a heavy responsibility.”
“For a woman?” she heard herself say, so accustomed to having her gender thrown at her whenever the subject of her hotel responsibilities came up.
“For a man or woman,” he said calmly, disregarding her defensiveness.
She sighed. Alex MacLean was very different from other men, and nothing like her father.
“What will you do now?” he asked.
“I expect I will meet with a murderer destined to die on the gallows. He will have nothing to lose and a lot to gain if he has parents or siblings who could benefit from the money I offer. I can’t give up until the deadline has passed.”
Alex frowned, but Julia dismissed his expression when, over his shoulder, she glimpsed her maitre d’ hurrying toward their table. She rose at his approach.
Alex stood, too, as a gentleman did, but with the sound of air sucked between his teeth. He put a hand to his side.
“Mademoiselle Fairbanks,” Jacques said, out of breath, “your presence is needed in the lobby tout de suite.”
She grabbed her gloves. “What is it?”
“One of the chambermaids, a Madame Reynolds. She has evidently met with an accident.”
Julia stepped away from the table, her heart pounding. “Is it serious?”
“I do not know.”
“All right. I’m coming. Mr. MacLean, please stay here and enjoy dessert. Don’t bother waiting for me. I won’t be back.”
“I’m coming with you.”
She stepped in close to him and waited until he bent his head down to hers. Not wanting to be heard by the maitre d’ or her guests, she whispered, “No, you no longer have anything to do with my problems. I am not hiring you as my bodyguard.”
“I’m not asking to be paid.” He brought his mouth close to her ear. “Julia, you need protection. I can’t work as a carpenter right now, but I can earn my keep by watching after you, so get used to it.”
She tried to ignore his moist breath tickling her ear. “You are not responsible for my safety.”
“I think I am. I saved you once today. It would be irresponsible of me to let you walk into more danger. You take care of the maid. I’ll take care of you.”
His warm breath, deep voice, and bold intentions sent gooseflesh galloping across her body. She suppressed an urge to close her eyes, sway into him, and let him take care of her. She needed a good argument for refusing his protection. Once she wrestled herself back under control, her common sense prevailed. Someone was out to harm her, and having a bodyguard was the sensible thing to do.
“Come on then,” she said. “We’re wasting time.”
Chapter Five
As Alex followed Julia through the Crown Room, he thought back over her unexpected proposition. It was crazy, but it had clarified for him what he wanted most—a loving wife and family. He found himself regretting that Julia could not be that woman.
She was kind and caring, considerate of others but also able to stand up to them when necessary. She had put her rat-faced desk clerk in his place without making a scene, and she had persuaded the insistent Alberta Hensley over to her way of thinking with barely a fuss. She had even persuaded him to see the doctor.
When he eventually moved on, Alex feared he would miss Julia. He might even regret declining her proposal, but agreeing to a marriage on her terms was out of the question. He wanted more from her than she was willing to give. Alex did worry, however, about her second choice. He knew firsthand how thoroughly a reputation can be savaged when anything to do with prison is involved. But she would do what she had to, and at least the man was safely behind bars, unable to take advantage of her or demand his conjugal rights.
They crossed the lobby toward a woman who looked like a snowman squeezed into a chambermaid’s uniform. Above a ruddy face, curly wisps of reddish-brown hair stuck out wildly, her white maid’s cap unable to contain them.
“Mrs. Reynolds,” Julia said, “I was told there’d been an accident.”
“Oh, Miss Fairbanks, I’m surely glad to see you.” Huffing and puffing on each word, the chambermaid fanned herself with chapped, work-reddened hands.
Julia’s gaze skimmed the woman from top to bottom. “Are you all right?”
“Only just. I nearly fell to my death, and that’s no lie.”
Alex frowned. If this accident had anything to do with the flowerpot incident, he wanted to know. He would do everything he could to keep Julia safe.
He stepped forward. “What do you mean, Mrs. Reynolds? What happened?”
For a moment, Julia looked as if he were intruding in her business, but then comprehension dawned. Though she glanced at the front entrance, she seemed to see beyond it to the attack this afternoon and the threat against her. Her hand trembled as she brought it up to her throat.
Mrs. Reynolds answered him. “On the service stairs at the other end of the hotel”—she pointed toward the Garden Patio—“when I were climbin’ up to the fourth floor, my foot went crashing straight through one of them steps. Rotted it must be. I lost hold of my bucket, and my scrub brushes and soaps scattered every which way. Thank the Lord for that stairway rail. I grabbed it hard as could be and managed to save myself. If I’d been coming down those stairs, I’d have broke my neck for sure.”
Alex opened his mouth to ask another question, but the woman heaved in a breath and went on. “Normally, I wouldn’t have used them stairs at this time o’ day, but this afternoon I left my favorite brush in the fourth-floor linen closet and wanted to get it back before one of the other girls got hold of it.”
“Mrs. Reynolds,” Alex said, “I’d like to see that step for myself. Are you up to showing me where it is?”
“Alex,” Julia said, no longer trembling, “Mrs. Reynolds has obviously had a fright. I think she ought to sit down.”
“I think she’s made of strong stuff.” He winked at the stout woman.
“But she could have been injured.”
Mrs. Reynolds smiled, glancing between them like a spectator watching a match on the hotel’s tennis ground. “I do come from sturdy stock, and I’m proud of it. I don’t mind showing the gentleman, Miss Fairbanks. And you, of course.”
Julia placed her hand on the chambermaid’s arm. “Are you sure you’re feeling well enough? I’d be happy to have Dr. Dolan look you over.”
“I don’t need no doctor, but I thank you for your concern.” She patted the back of Julia’s hand. “Besides, I need to gather up my cleaning supplies. I left a bit of a mess, though I doubt anyone’ll be up there to see. That stairway’s hardly ever used at night.”
“Very well, then.” She motioned for the chambermaid to lead the way. “We’ll follow you.”
Alex stayed close to Julia, swiveling his head in search of anyone who might be watching her or planning an imminent attack.
A few minutes later, after safely crossing the attractively lit central courtyard, landscaped with fragrant tropical plants, palm trees, and a decorative gazebo, they climbed to the third floor.
“Down this way,” Mrs. Reynolds whispered as they passed guestroom doors.
Alex glanced over at Julia and saw the worry lining her forehead. Was she thinking about the step? Or had her mind returned to her marriage plight?
The chambermaid stopped and pointed up a narrow, half-hidden, dimly lit staircase leading to the fourth floor. “It’s there, where you see my bucket.”
Julia cautiously started up, but Alex grasped her hand and held her back. “Let me go first.”
She looked as if she might argue with him, but then she closed her mouth, stepped aside, and let him pass.
On his way up, he dodged cleaning rags and an assortment of brushes.
Julia came right behind him. He heard the rustling of her dress and smelled the scent of orange blossoms. Alex wished she’d give him more space. His body was responding to her nearness, and he didn’t need that kind of distraction, not when her life might be in danger.
He picked up the bucket and handed it to her. She set it down several steps lower, then closed the distance again. He crouched and examined the step, sorry he didn’t think to bring a lantern for more light.
“Can you tell anything yet?” She leaned around him, so close their shoulders brushed.
He shifted away as nonchalantly as possible.
“Oh, my goodness. I can see for myself. The wood’s almost completely broken through. How could a step rot so badly in a hotel barely ten years old?”
“I don’t think it is rotted. It looks like the middle section may have been weak from the start and grown worse over time.” He lowered his voice. “Mrs. Reynolds’ weight is most likely the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back.”
“Shush.” She glanced at the woman gathering up her cleaning supplies. “Mrs. Reynolds, when you finish there, could you please ask the night maintenance man to cordon off this stairway and replace the step?”
“Yes, Miss Fairbanks. I’ll be off in two shakes.”