Copper Fire

by Fayrene Preston

  Brianne heard the fear in his voice and saw the tears in his large black eyes begin to spill down his broad face. “No, I am not a missionary. Whatever gave you that idea?”

  He choked back a sob and pointed a trembling finger toward her necklace. “You wear a cross.”

  “My grandfather gave me this cross on my birthday when I was fourteen years old.”

  Feeling somewhat reassured, Kamanahua wiped the tears from his face and tried to look fierce as he imagined his ancestors of old had. “I will not transverse to Boston! I will tomorrow seek the great ocean!” He gazed down at the beautiful lady to see what effect his words had had on her and saw that her small hands were soothing over the swollen skin of her ankle. All at once he felt as if he were going to cry again. “I am so apology for your hurt!”

  “You mean you’re sorry.”

  “Yes. I did not mean to pain you.”

  If her ankle hadn’t hurt so badly, Brianne would have smiled. “Where did you learn to speak English, Kam?”

  “The missionaries. They invaded our island. They try to teach me much. They were transversing me to Boston so I could learn more.”

  “Boston?”

  “I ran fast away.”

  “Where were you when you ran fast away?”

  “Where men dig in the earth. Nevada, they named it.”

  “A mining camp in Nevada?” Brianne guessed.

  “The missionaries were trying to convict… I mean convert the heathens, and I ran fast away. But” – he cast a puzzled glance around him – “I misplaced the ocean.”

  Brianne uttered a sound that was somewhere between laughter and pain. “Oh, Kam, you really do have a problem, but then so do I, I’m afraid. We’re going to have to help each other.”

  Puzzlement scored long lines into his face. “I must inquiry you,” he said. “You were looking for me, but you do not furnish yourself in black. And your face is not pinched. So you are not a missionary.” His eyes became fixed on her hair. The color reminded him of the flaming red lava that sometimes flowed from the volcano of a nearby island whenever Pele decreed. Pele! He straightened, proud of himself because he had just figured out who the beautiful lady was. “You must be a goddess sent to help me!”

  “I am not a goddess, Kam, and I was not looking for you. I am looking for my brother. Do you think the missionaries you ran away from are after you?”

  With emphatic energy he nodded his head up and down. “Most assertedly.”

  Brianne sighed. “All right. Don’t worry. I’ll help you.”

  “Do you have the power to protect me from the missionaries?”

  “I will protect you, Kam, but first we’ve got to get back to town. You've got to lift me up on my horse. Can you do that?”

  “Most assertedly.”

  “And then you can get up behind me.”

  Kamanahua didn’t want to warn the four-legged animal he was going to look at it, so he turned his head very, very slowly toward it and whispered, “Will he move?”

  “We can’t get back to town unless he does.”

  “I will tread beside you,” he said a little louder since he was no longer looking toward the animal.

  “That's nonsense. You’ll ride behind me.”

  “But I have never before climbed atop a four-legged animal.”

  “I’ll explain, step by step.”

  “You are most assertedly a goddess!”

  Chapter 7

  People swarmed out of the stores and businesses to look with amazement as Brianne came riding into town late that afternoon with Kamanahua perched loftily behind her. Brianne was certain that her activities the last few days and the people she had brought back to town with her had caused a great deal of speculation, some of it decidedly unpleasant, she suspected, but she couldn’t find it in herself to be concerned.

  Relief was the only emotion she felt as she reined Dancer to a stop in front of the hotel. The trip back to town had been excruciating for her. With each step that Dancer had taken, pain had throbbed in her ankle and radiated up her leg.

  A quick glimpse toward the hotel had told her that Sloan was once again sitting on the porch. Deliberately she avoided looking at him. What was the use? She knew his face would be set with that gravestone hardness she had come to expect and that his eyes would be mocking. And she knew he would once again be thinking she had done something wrong by bringing yet another person back to town with her.

  “Kam, you get off first.”

  “I will now fall down,” he announced grandly, and proceeded to do just that, toppling sideways to the ground, his great body hitting the dirt with a thud. He scrambled to his feet and looked to Brianne for approval.

  She smiled at him and held out her arms. “You'll have to carry me into the hotel.”

  “I think not,” Sloan said, suddenly at her side. Before she knew what was happening, he had her off the horse and in his arms.

  “Sloan, I don’t want you to carry me.”

  “So shoot me.”

  He strode with her into the hotel, and Kamanahua, with an uneasy look over his shoulder, scurried after them.

  “Miss Delaney! What on earth happened?”

  “I had a minor accident, Mrs. Potter. Nothing serious.”

  Remembering how he had caused the beautiful goddess to hurt herself, Kamanahua was filled with remorse and shame. “Auwe! Auwe!”

  Held high in Sloan’s strong arms against the warmth of his muscular body, Brianne had momentarily forgotten her new charge. “Oh, Mrs. Potter, this is Kam. He’ll need a room.”

  Mrs. Potter’s face showed outrage and shock. “Miss Delaney, surely you can’t expect me to house this … this half-clothed savage beneath my roof!”

  The woman had a pinched face, Kamanahua noted, and stern eyes. And she was upset because he didn’t furnish himself from head to toe with clothes that suffocated the body. Kamanahua didn’t want to get anywhere near the man with the hard face and the grim eyes, but as the man was holding Brianne, and Brianne had said she would protect him, he had no choice. He sidled over to Sloan and whispered, “That lady is a missionary.”

  “No, she’s not, Kam,”Brianne hastened to reassure him. “There are no missionaries in Chango, not that the town couldn't use a few, I’m sure.” It was going to be extremely difficult to control the situation, she thought, when her ankle was shrieking with pain and her body was having to cope with the sensations aroused by being held within the circle of Sloan’s arms. “Mrs. Potter, Kam is a royal Hawaiian. His father is a king. That makes him a prince. How many hotels can boast that they've had a prince as a guest? I know you’ll want to do everything you can to make Kam comfortable.”

  Mrs. Potter eyed Kamanahua with doubt. She certainly wouldn’t want to turn away a prince, but to her he still looked like a savage. And he was so big! Still, he was definitely a foreigner, so she supposed he could be some sort of prince. “What kind of necklace is he wearing?”

  Brianne had been trying to decide that for herself.

  “Shark’s teeth,” Kamanahua informed with obvious pride. “I am great fisherman with my spear!”

  Mrs. Potter gave a sigh of relief that the teeth weren’t human. “Well… I guess I could give him a room on the third floor.” She wondered if she should curtsy.

  “I will sleep with Brianne,” Kamanahua an- nounced, having no intention of being separated from the goddess who was going to protect him from the dreaded pinch-faced missionaries.

  Mrs. Potter's hand flew to her breast in alarm, and Sloan’s arms tightened painfully around Brianne.

  “He doesn’t mean that,”Brianne said quickly. “He just has a little trouble with the English language. And a third-floor room is not acceptable. I know you must have several vacancies on the second floor, and that’s where he'll stay.”

  Mrs. Potter opened her mouth, but Brianne never found out what she was going to say, because Sloan suddenly said, “Enough! Send someone for the doctor immediately. Miss Delaney will be in he
r room.”

  “I don’t need a doctor! I’m sure it's only sprained.”

  “Auwe,”Kamanahua moaned softly. “I am so apology”

  “You’ve really done it this time, Brianne,”Sloan muttered, and started up the stairs with her.

  A warm golden glow pooled out from the kerosene lamp on the table beside the bed. Propped up against a mound of pillows, Brianne eyed her ankle with disgust. Just as she had suspected, the doctor had pronounced her injury a sprain, wrapped it with strips of cloth, elevated it on two folded quilts, and told her she had to stay off it for several days.

  Sloan had left as soon as the doctor had seen her, and had not returned, but her three charges had been harder to get rid of.

  After tactfully declining Phineas’s offer of a bottle of Tooley's Miracle Restorative to use as liniment on her ankle, she had reluctantly dispatched him to the telegraph office to send a telegram to Killara for her, informing Shamus of Patrick’s disappearance.

  Then there was Kamanahua. It had taken a lot of talking, but she had finally convinced him that he must spend the night in the room down the hall and that no missionaries would bother him. Of course he had insisted that he carry her to inspect the room, just to make sure.

  She found the room to be somewhat plainer than her own, but nice nevertheless. The bedstead was made of iron that had been painted white, with the tall headboard made up of straight iron spindles that rose a good eight feet toward the ceiling and were crowned by finials. Even though Kamanahua's eyes had lit up at the sight of the bed, Brianne wasn’t convinced he would actually sleep in it.

  Henrietta, for her part, had fussed over her until Brianne had thought she would scream, but after bringing her dinner on a tray and helping her into her nightgown, Henrietta had at last retired to her own room.

  And now she was finally alone. Brianne shut her eyes, gave thanks, then turned her thoughts to Patrick. She had done all she could, she told herself, but she felt no better for the assurance. As long as he was missing, half of her was also missing.

  She prayed he wasn’t hurt and that whoever had him would treat him kindly. It was intolerable to her to think that Patrick was suffering in any way. But it had been four days since his disappearance, and there had been no word from the kidnappers, nor had she come across any clue that might lead her to him.

  She was frightened. She desperately needed to keep telling herself that Patrick was all right. Brought up to face adversity as she had been, she had to admit that it didn’t look good for him. Still, something in her refused to accept that he wouldn’t be found. There had to be something she could do!

  “Are you in pain?”

  Brianne’s eyes flew open to find Sloan standing at the foot of her bed. “How did you get in here?”

  “Don’t worry. No one saw me, and you didn’t answer my question.”

  “No, I’m not in any pain.”

  He shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

  “To answer your question, I came in through the door.”

  “But I didn’t hear you.”

  “Maybe you were dozing.”

  “I wasn’t asleep. You just move quietly, too quietly. You don’t move like a normal person.”

  “If you say so,” he murmured, his eyes wandering over her, noting the way her mass of shining, long hair had been restrained by a green ribbon tied around her head. The color of the ribbon matched the ribbons on her gown. Desire came up in him so fast, he was unable to check it. It made him angry. “An old maid schoolteacher and a snake oil salesman were bad enough, Brianne, but a half-naked man is too much!”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake! Kam is just a frightened boy. From the story he told me on the way into town, I gather that he is from one of the outer islands of Hawaii that the missionaries have just recently decided to show some interest in. They want his father, the king, to sign over his land to them, and in hopes of influencing the king, they chose his son, Kam, to attend a missionary school in Boston. He managed to elude them somewhere around Nevada, and he's been wandering around ever since, lost and afraid.” “That’s a very touching story, Brianne. Real touching. Just like the stories that the schoolteacher and the snake oil salesman told you. I'm quite sure that a very irate husband is after Henrietta, no telling how many missionaries are after your Kam, and, if I don’t miss my guess, your salesman is on the run from someone too.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  “What are you going to do, Brianne, when all these people show up?”

  “I’ll think of something.”

  Sloan shook his head in disgust. “It wouldn’t matter to you if the whole United States Army were after them, would it?”

  Crossing her arms, she glared at him.

  He wanted to shake her. No, he wanted to kiss her. “So you’ve taken them in and made their problems your own.” He paused, and his golden eyes were hard and hot at the same time. “What would you do for me, I wonder, if I told you a touching story?”

  “Tell me a touching story and find out.”

  His lips compressed into a rigid, thin line, and he swiveled away to walk to the window. He pushed the lace curtain aside and stared into the blackness.

  There was no getting around it. When he had seen her riding up with that huge Hawaiian behind her and in obvious pain, he had experienced fear and fury. Because he couldn't abide the fear, he had let the fury rule. It was a much safer emotion, and one with which he could deal with infinite ease. Even now, after she had been seen to by the doctor and was safe in her bed, he couldn’t understand the fear he felt for her.

  David had been the last person for whom he had felt fear. Worrying over someone else was so unlike him. Being totally ruthless and selfish, now, that was in character for him. That he could be comfortable with.

  “What are you going to do about finding Patrick?” he asked.

  “I’ve had a telegram sent to my grandfather.”

  “So, in about two weeks, all the help in the world is going to come thundering into town.”

  She eyed his rigid back and wondered what he was up to. “That’s right.”

  He let the curtain fall back into place, then brought his hand up to stroke the pads of his fingers over the patterned lace. “What are you going to do in the meantime?”

  “I can’t do much of anything for now.”

  He was silent for a moment. “There is one thing you can do.”

  “What?”

  “You can ask me to look for your brother.”

  Surprise momentarily robbed Brianne of words. He swung around to face her and raised one black brow, prompting Brianne to finally speak. “You’d help me?”

  “On condition.”

  She might have known. “What sort of condition?” she asked warily.

  “I will search for your brother, if, when I find him, you will let me take you to bed.”

  She was stunned. “What did you say?”

  “I’m offering you a deal, Brianne, plain and simple. If I find your brother, you come to bed with me. If I don’t, you’re off the hook.”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “I think you know.”

  Yes, she knew. “You want me.”

  “I want you,” he agreed, both his face and voice expressionless.

  Brianne felt helpless. Sloan was offering to find Patrick, something she wanted more than anything, but he was asking an exorbitant price.

  The idea of Sloan taking her to bed brought forth emotions that bubbled and frothed like water rushing from an underground spring to the surface. The emotions were turbulent … and tantalizing … and she didn’t know how to deal with them. Sloan was a dangerous man, totally without scruples, yet he excited her as no other ever had. What would it be like, she wondered, to be made love to by such a man? Could she agree to his deal? Could she not?

  He thought he would use her, but two could play that game. The Delaneys lived by their own complicated code of honor, but all the complications could
be distilled down to two words: Delaneys first.

  What was important here was Patrick. Once he was found, she could find a way to get out of her end of the deal.

  “All right, Sloan. I agree.”

  His jaw clenched; a muscle jumped in his cheek. “There’s just one thing.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll need a sign of good faith on your part.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “A sign of good faith that will reassure me that once I find Patrick, you'll live up to your end of the bargain.”

  Had she been that easy to read? she wondered, appalled. “What do you have in mind?” she asked evenly.

  “For you to submit to whatever I ask of you, short of actually making love, of course.”

  Brianne’s heart nearly leapt out of her rib cage. What Sloan was asking was absolutely outrageous.

  And totally exciting.

  And she understood why he was doing it. The word trust wasn’t in the vocabulary of a man like Sloan, so he was hedging his bet.

  For her, agreeing would be a risk, a gamble. Could she handle it? Before the question had time to simmer in her brain, she decided she could. What was the harm of giving a little to gain a lot?

  When she lifted her head she saw the golden eyes that had the capability of freezing a person’s bones. Before her courage deserted her, she murmured, “All right, Sloan. But we’ll have to be discreet.”

  “I told you. No one saw me come in.”

  Nodding, she folded and unfolded the edge of the crocheted coverlet. “When will you start looking for Patrick?”

  “In the morning.”

  “Good.”

  “Tonight, though, I’ll want my first sign of good faith.”

  He had seen emeralds that contained less fire, Sloan decided, noting the reaction that flared in her green eyes. She was definitely angry about having to give in to his condition, but he wasn’t bothered. He was confident that without much effort that same angry fire could be turned to passionate fire.

  “Untie the bows on your gown.”

  “What?”

  “Untie the bows on your gown, Brianne.”

  Stubbornly, she held Sloan’s gaze as her hand went to the top bow, grasped an end of the ribbon, and pulled. Slowly, her hand lowered down the front of her gown, untying bow after bow until they had all been untied. Then she dropped her hand to the quilt and looked down at it. When had her hand started to tremble? she wondered.