by Roxy Harte
“Hard to know a man's mind, Lucy.”
“Maybe he wanted to make certain you knew I am his.” She could hear piano music and laughter coming from the saloon. It wasn't as late as it felt.
“I knew that before.”
“Did you?”
“If that was his purpose, why didn't he have me watch him fuck you?”
“Would the point have been any more plain if he had?”
“I guess not.”
“I'm yours too, you know. If you want me.” Lucy hated hearing the waver of doubt in her own voice. She stopped and looked into his face, but the night was so dark, he seemed featureless.
“If I buy a new suit?”
She smiled then, hearing a note of jest. “I assumed you would.”
* * *
Madalena met her in the foyer. “Where have you been? We were worried.”
“I was on an errand.”
The dark beauty rolled her eyes. “I hope whoever he was paid extra for the house call. You have business waiting for you here.”
“A client?”
“Man showed up several hours ago requesting you. He wouldn't settle for anyone else, not even Véronique. The concierge set him up in the presidential suite.” She winked. “Pretty high roller by the amount he threw around while he was waiting for you. He didn't even blink at the hourly rate he was quoted for your company tonight.”
Lucy swore. “I do not want to see a client tonight.”
“You going to tell him?”
“Yes. I will.”
Lucy marched up the stairs, determined; she knocked solidly on the man's door and barely kept from screaming when he opened it. Grabbing her wrist, he jerked her inside, and Lucy found herself face-to-face with her worst nightmare.
He ripped her jacket open and slapped her hard before she could even register an appropriate response. When she finally decided she should be screaming bloody murder, her ears were ringing and her eyes were seeing double. He hit her in the face again, his wide, meaty hand feeling like a sledgehammer.
Too late, she tried to fight him off. He wrapped his fingers in her hair and jerked her about like a rag doll. “Who do you think you are, you little cunny-faced whore? Nobody. That's who you are. Nothing but my property.”
“No!”
“By right of my contract, I own you. I'm thinking that means I own this place too.”
Kneeing him hard in the groin, she escaped, but her attempt to flee ended as soon as she threw open the door. He grabbed her around the throat and jerked her back inside before slamming the door. Lucy backed against the opposite wall as far from him as she could get. “This is California. I'm a free woman, and I own this place.”
“I don't think so.” He pulled a knife out of his belt sheath. “You can come with me in one piece or two.”
Lucy pulled the small derringer from her skirt pocket and aimed. “Please leave me alone.”
He laughed at her.
“I don't want to kill you.”
“With that puny little gun?” he taunted, his accent heavier with his exertion. “Please do. Give me a reason to cut you into little strips before I take you back East. Bounty on a runaway slave is the same whether you're pretty or ugly, alive or half-dead.”
Lucy was shaking, the gun wobbling all over the place, but as he lunged with the knife, she remembered what Daniel had told her when he'd given her the gun, and it suddenly seemed as if he were in the room with her, steadying her hand. “By necessity, I may have to.”
The gun fired, making a tidy little hole between his eyes.
Chapter Eighteen
Lucy faced a closed coffin and an open grave. She couldn't see out of her right eye because it was swollen shut, but her left eye told her there was much finger-pointing and whispering going on at the funeral of Seamus MacFarland. None had said aloud that she'd murdered him, but she was paranoid enough to believe they were saying it.
The man was being buried without a name on the headstone.
He'd given no name when he'd registered for a room, paying extra for the privacy, and no one had asked her if she knew him.
What would she say if they did?
Doc was called immediately to treat her injuries, and she'd been sequestered in a dark room with him until the moment Thunder had knocked on the door a night and a full day later to announce it was time for the burial. Both he and the doc agreed she should see the man laid to rest so that she could feel safe from him.
In the hour after the shooting, she'd babbled. On and on. Not naming names, but naming fears. That was when the doctor had prescribed the laudanum. She'd said nothing since, feeling like not much of anything was worth saying.
She thought maybe after the medicine wore off she might feel differently.
But not now.
The pine box was lowered into the hole and shovelfuls of dirt dropped onto its lid.
Numb. That was how she felt, wanting to be angry that the wagon master was getting a proper burial after refusing to grant one to Emma and Ollie. She wished she could tell someone that—but as the dirt piled higher, it seemed to matter less and less.
Chapter Nineteen
Lucy lay in Thunder's arms but didn't sleep. It had been four months since Daniel had ridden out of town, three months since the grand opening of the Auberge de Rose or since the day she'd killed Seamus MacFarland, because she couldn't think of one without the other, but the point in her mind was that it had been a long damn time. She'd begun to fear he wasn't going to return to her at all. He might even be dead, and she would never know for certain.
The medicine she took for her headaches helped her not care so much whether he returned.
Sometimes she thought the sheriff looked at her with worry in his eyes, but he never voiced his concerns. What would he say? What would she say? It seemed Daniel stood squarely between any happily-ever-after they might find together.
She wondered if he returned, not when, if he would even recognize her.
When she dared look in a mirror, she barely recognized herself. All she saw was the murderer of Seamus MacFarland.
* * *
She awoke to the sound of shattering glass and found that Thunder had accidentally knocked over her bottle of medicine. “Oh dear. I'll have to send Georgie to fetch me some more.”
Thunder grabbed her by her shoulders and shook her. “You'll do no such thing, and if you do, I'll smash it too.”
She looked at him. Confused. The truth slow to register. “Why?”
He hugged her close, and she realized he was shaking. “I want my Lucy back. Please. Come back to me.”
Weeks of hell and damnation followed. She barely remembered the passing days. She remembering being so deathly ill, she thought she might die, but no one was willing to fetch her medicine. She remembered Esmeralda, Francisca, Madalena, Fang-Hua, and Dao-Ming all taking turns wiping her brow, cleaning up her puke, and changing her bedding. She remembered Véronique and Rose taking turns holding her hand.
All that paled to her dreams.
Daniel there holding her and allowing her to cry as she admitted her sins to him. “You never asked what was in the silver jewelry box, but I should have told you.”
“I'm glad you didn't.”
“The diamonds weren't mine. They were Emma's. Just as I belonged to Emma. Seamus MacFarland was right. After Ollie and Emma died, the diamonds should have been his; I should have been his.”
“No.” Daniel kissed her forehead. “Never that.”
“I killed him.”
“The way I heard the story, you were lucky to have survived.”
“I don't remember as well as I used to. I get mixed-up sometimes.”
He held her tighter. “The doctor said that sometimes that happens following the kind of injuries you sustained, but that your brain will heal over time. You'll be as good as new.”
Her dream Daniel leaked tears, hot and wet over her face. That was how she knew he was just a dream. Her Daniel would never cry.
* * *
Lucy awoke alone, having felt like she'd spent a year in bed. Sitting up was an effort, and standing near impossible, but she managed to make it to the window to look outside. It had snowed. She pushed open a window and, leaning out, sucked in great gulps of cold, fresh air.
She felt alive for the first time since…
She let out a long exhale, finding joy in the puff of white that lingered in the air.
“Seamus MacFarland is dead. I don't have to fear no more.”
A bell tolled in the distance, drawing her eye to a newly built church with a towering steeple. When did that happen?
Behind her, the door cracked open, and she turned to see both Thunder and Daniel standing in the threshold. Two voices demanded, “What are you doing out of bed?”
She turned her back to them, sad that she was still dreaming. The snow had made her happy, and she hated to think that the snow wouldn't be there when she woke up. Sadder knowing her imaginary Daniel wouldn't be there either. She inhaled cold air and exhaled a great puff of white.
Strong arms lifted her and carried her back to bed.
She looked into Daniel's face and found his stern expression to be a mask, because his eyes were twinkling brightly. She put her hand against his chest. He felt real.
“Daniel.”
He smiled at her before kissing her gently. When he pulled away, damp tracks ran down his cheeks. “Thank God you survived.”
Thunder sat on the other side of her. “The man and the laudanum.”
She gazed into Daniel's face. It had been too long since she'd seen him, and she couldn't bear to look away. “Promise me?”
“Anything,” he agreed.
“You'll never be gone from me for that long ever again.” Even as she asked it, she knew she was being unfair. He had drover blood running in his veins, and she doubted she'd love him as much as she did if he weren't the man he was.
“I will never be gone from your side that long ever again.”
She smiled and lifted her mouth to his, making him seal the bargain with a kiss. Reluctantly she pulled her gaze from Daniel's and looked at Thunder. She touched his lapel. “You purchased a new suit.”
“I did.”
She kissed him, whispering into his mouth, “Thank you.”
Looking from Thunder to Daniel, her heart sped up. Two men. Two perfect men. God, please don't make me choose. It dawned on her that Daniel as well was dressed as fine as any dandy. “You too?”
He chuckled. “I was told that there have been more than a few changes around here since I've been gone. I wanted to make certain I met the dress requirements of both your restaurant and your hotel. Thankfully Mrs. Finkelstein is a fount of wisdom concerning current men's fashion, and she was able to help me locate a reputable tailor.”
* * *
Standing flanked by her two men, Lucy had each of her hands caught in the crooks of their arms. A minister stood before them, two gaping holes in the ground between them. At the base of the holes were two beautifully carved stones:
Oliver Kraus, devoted husband of Emma.
Born: July 1, 1830. Died: July 12, 1859.
*
Emma Kraus, beloved wife and friend.
Born: September 14, 1832. Died: July 12, 1859.
*
She'd never thought to see Ollie and Emma properly buried, but because of Daniel's tenacity, their bones had been recovered. In explanation of his very long absence, he'd merely commented, “It's a damn big desert.”
Attending the funeral of her previous owners wasn't the worst way she'd ever spent Christmas Day. As a matter of fact, it was probably the best holiday she'd ever had.
Mrs. Finkelstein presented a grand meal at the restaurant with grand flourish. As soon as everyone was seated, she formally clapped her hands over her head theatrically. “Friends. This is my Christmas gift to you, a feast worthy of kings.”
Following her announcement, a procession of silver trays covered with domed lids was carried into the room by women in starched uniforms. One by one, the dishes were revealed with a dramatic lift of a lid: a roast goose, venison, and pheasant, rounded out with side dishes of many varieties. Lucy was so pleased she announced that the chef and kitchen staff would be given holiday bonuses.
Seated between both Daniel and Thunder, she felt like a princess as each man doted on her. If the last time they had all been together had been awkward, this was the complete opposite.
She didn't want to wake up.
Carolers sang from the corner, and while they ate, she managed to catch up on a month's worth of missed gossip.
When the party finally dispersed, she slipped out onto the porch for some fresh air and was so overcome with gratitude, she dropped to her knees.
Thunder stepped outside and, seeing her, hollered inside, “Found her,” before rushing to her side. He was helping her to stand when Daniel joined them. “Are you all right?”
“I'm fine. I promise. Full belly. The room was too warm. For a moment I was merely overcome by the festivities.”
“It was a lot to wake up to.” Thunder supposed.
“Perhaps a walk in the crisp night air would be reviving? Unless you believe it would be overly taxing.” Daniel suggested.
Lucy looked at them both, and seeing that their expressions both bore hope that she would agree, she couldn't refuse them. “I would love to.”
They led her down the boardwalk, which seemed to have doubled in length when she hadn't been paying attention. The town had changed so much; there was now a road that ran perpendicular at the far end of town. Obviously establishing a residential area, seeing that there was a church and several newly framed houses.
“Do you mind if we stop here?” Thunder asked, pointing to one of the two-story frame houses. “I only need a moment.”
Lucy looked up at the dark house. It appeared only a single lantern burned inside. “Are you not afraid you will wake someone? It is late.”
He grinned in answer and grabbed her hand. Daniel took the other. Both men led her up the stairs. Thunder took a key out of her waistcoat pocket and unlocked the door. “Merry Christmas, Lucy.”
She gasped. “I don't understand.”
Both men hurried her inside.
“I had this house built for you. For us,” Thunder said.
“Us?”
Panicking, she looked at Daniel to gauge his reaction. He'd been gone so long, and he had only just returned. She couldn't bear it if he left again, feeling like she had already made a choice she was in no position to make. Had she promised Thunder something she didn't remember when she'd been under the influence of the laudanum?
Daniel smiled.
She looked from man to man. They both wore shit-eating grins. “Would someone please explain?”
Thunder said, “We had this house built for the three of us because it wouldn't be fair to ask you to choose between us.”
Daniel added, “If you accept, we can live here. Together.”
“The three of us?”
Both men nodded.
“You both want this?”
In answer, they hugged her between them, Thunder in front, Daniel behind, and the feel of them cocooning her made her blood race. She'd been out of it for a while, and she'd forgotten some things because of her head injury, but this, she definitely remembered. Need. Desire. She wasn't sure what had transpired between Thunder and Daniel when she'd been lying in bed out of her mind from laudanum withdrawal, but she was happy that whatever had had. “I think I would like that very much, gentlemen. Very, very much indeed.”
Thunder kissed her gently, while Daniel still molded her from behind. “I love you, Lucy, and I promise we can make this work.”
With her mouth free, Daniel turned her chin and claimed her mouth with his. “I've missed you more than words could ever say.”
Lucy tingled between them, feeling joyful, loved. Lustful. “Is there a bedroom?”
Daniel lifted her into his arms,
saying, “I thought you'd never ask.” Thunder lifted the lantern and led the way upstairs.
* * *
The bedroom was simple, barren when compared to the luxury of the hotel, but there was a carved pine bedstead with a thick mattress. It was possibly the largest bed she'd ever seen, which led to the question of how the men were going to share her. Would they take turns, dividing the week into days? Would one watch while the other fucked her, as Daniel had before he'd left?
The question was answered when Daniel laid her down in the center of the bed and both men started taking off their clothes. One climbed onto the bed on either side of her. Oh my. Each faced her, and she was at a loss which man she should be looking at, so she looked at her boots.
Thunder took her hand and lifted it to his lips, kissing her fingertips. “Is this too sudden?”
“N-no.” She looked at him as he drew her hand to his chest. She could feel his heart pounding as hard and fast as a recently raced stallion. Did that mean he was as nervous as she was? He held her gaze as he drew her hand lower, helping her to find his erection. Her fingers closed around his solid length. His heat seared her.
Licking her lips, she wasn't sure what she should say or do.
Daniel caressed her cheek, tilting her face to look at him. Meeting his gaze, her heart leaped into her throat. She still had her fingers wrapped tightly around Thunder's penis as Daniel claimed her mouth. Taking her other hand, he led her fingers to find he was just as hard and ready. Oh God. Pulling away, he whispered against her mouth, “Your heart is pounding so hard. Perhaps I should loosen your stays.”
“Yes,” she whispered back, kissing him again, hoping she wasn't caught in a laudanum dream. This is too good. Too, too good to be true.
Daniel unbuttoned her jacket and helped her to remove it before starting on the ties to her corset. Thunder moved down the bed and started unbuttoning her boots.
She found her hands empty and mourned the loss of both men's throbbing flesh against her palms.
The efforts of both men saw her naked in record time…and left her lying awkwardly between them. She wished it felt as easy as it had when they were merely hugging downstairs, and wondered what the difference was.