Singing Montana Sky (The Montana Sky Series Book 7)

by Debra Holland

  This is more than a dream come true.

  Sophia trembled.

  “I have you,” he murmured, helpless to comfort her and wishing he could do more. The thought of what Stevenson had done to her made hot anger rise in him again, and he wanted to pummel the lumberjack. He forced himself to be calm. What’s done is done. The sheriff will deal with him.

  And if Stevenson hadn’t attacked her, we wouldn’t be here now.

  He’d take the gift God had given him—these few minutes together—and be truly, humbly grateful.

  * * *

  Gradually, Sophia stopped feeling on the verge of tears, although the effects of the nerve-shattering experience hadn’t quite worn off. For the first time since her collapse, she didn’t mind not being able to speak, for her voice would have trembled as much as her body did, betraying how shaken she still was. Her knees were weak, shivers rocked her, and she could still feel the pressure of Stevenson’s mouth. The squeeze on her breast lingered. In an odd contrast, the big man walking with a protective arm around her made her feel safer than she’d ever felt before. No matter how weak I am, he wouldn’t let me fall.

  I’ve needed to be held. I’ve longed for this.

  But not because of being assaulted!

  Beyond his strength, she admired the way Kael Kelley had handled the situation. He could tell immediately that she wasn’t a prostitute but had stated that even if she was, she deserved to be treated like a lady. Such beliefs said a great deal about a man’s character.

  Even more, Sophia liked how he hadn’t reacted to the sight of her short hair and thinness, and she’d been closely watching for any sign. But not even by a twitch of an eye had he made her feel she wasn’t herself. He’s the first.

  She speculated on Mr. Kelley’s relationship with Lily and Tyler.

  Does he really live nearby? Although nearby in this town can mean miles away.

  Surely he must if he knew Adeline. But he doesn’t actually have to be a close friend and neighbor. A quick conversation after church while either Tyler or Lily held the baby could have given him the same information.

  But Sophia sensed Mr. Kelley told the truth.

  Will I see him again?

  Do I want to see him again? Or will I only have bad memories associated with his presence? She stole a look at his profile, what she could see in the darkness. A warm flutter in her stomach gave her the answer. How seldom do I find a man I’m attracted to?

  And he was to her. Sophia could tell. She’d seen the admiration in his eyes, along with concern for her.

  A daring thought came to mind. I could make good memories—something to overlay my memories of the assault.

  If only I could speak. I could flirt with him. Excitement buzzed in her. A summer flirtation is just what I need to pick up my spirits and the last thing I thought I’d find in primitive Sweetwater Springs.

  I’ll have to act boldly. Will I shock him?

  Sophia knew many female singers became mistresses of wealthy men, but she never had. She didn’t need a man to financially support her, and she’d never found one who intrigued her enough to step over that line. Still she’d kissed plenty of men—most in the casually affectionate way customary among theater people. There’d also been a few handsome men who’d squired her about who she’d allowed to steal a kiss.

  This would be different. She’d be the one initiating the intimacy. Dare I?

  The hard-packed dirt under her feet changed to quartz bricks, and Sophia knew she didn’t have much time left to implement her scheme. But without a voice and in the darkness, she couldn’t resort to her usual wiles. Deciding to cast restraints aside and be daring, she stopped just at the edge of the glow of the streetlights and turned to face Kael.

  Sophia resolved to use his given name, if only in her thoughts, for if she sought to kiss him, she could no longer think of the man in formal terms.

  He kept his arm around her and stared down into her face, as if trying to read her thoughts. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured. “Like a dream in the night. I can’t believe you’re in my arms. Arm,” he corrected with a self-depreciating smile. “I’m afraid to awaken and find—”

  Arching her eyebrow, Sophia touched his sling, wishing she could ask what had happened.

  “A logging accident from pure carelessness and stupidity. I’m lucky to be alive.” Kael’s voice thickened. “Two of my men are there.” He tilted his head in the direction of the cemetery.

  Sympathy stabbed her. Sophia couldn’t imagine losing any of her friends in the opera company due to a tragic accident and wished she could express condolences.

  She sighed. If he’s a lumberjack, does he live far away in the forest at a logging camp?

  So much for my idea of a summer flirtation.

  All I have is this moment.

  Sophia summoned her resolution. She slipped her hand around Kael’s neck and drew his head down toward hers for a kiss, intending to start with a brief touch of her lips as a thank you and to wipe away Stevenson’s memory. To see if I want more.

  But as soon as her lips met his, unexpected energy flared between them, surging through her and burning away the last remnants of her earlier terror. Tingles ran over her skin, and she slid her other arm around his waist.

  Kael moved his injured arm out of the way to pull her closer.

  Her heart beat a rapid staccato. The feel of his hard body against hers made warmth tingle through her.

  He made an inarticulate sound and deepened the kiss. His hand moved up to her shoulders and down again to settle in the curve of her back.

  A shiver of heat, as different from her earlier fear-reaction as could be, streaked up her spine. Her world spun until she was dizzy with pleasure.

  Somewhere along the street, a door slammed.

  They pulled apart, both breathing hard, still holding hands as if reluctant to lose all physical contact.

  Reluctantly, her body heated, her lips burning from the smoldering kiss, she stepped away from him into the light.

  Thank you, Sophia mouthed. Pleasure still floating through her, she blew him a kiss before whirling to make a grand exit into the hotel. The energy coursing through her was similar to that feeling of exiting the stage after an outstanding performance, but different, more tingly. Sophia knew in her heart she hadn’t been acting with Kael. Every move, every response came from her natural desire.

  As she walked, her steps light, almost dancing, she savored the memory of his response to her and hers to him. Butterflies floated in her stomach. Sophia had never felt such sensations, as if she were caught up in the grand passions of an operatic character.

  She gave a soundless chuckle. Well, I guess my life lately would make an interesting opera. Hopefully, it will eventually prove to be comedic with a happy ending rather than a tragic one.

  * * *

  Kael stood at the front of the hotel, watching Sophia slip into the shadows under the arches and through the door. A strong compulsion possessed him to stand guard, as if he lived in a magical fairytale and was a knight defending the princess in the castle.

  He could almost feel the weight of his armor—the chain mail settled around his shoulders, the helmet on his head, and the heavy broadsword in the scabbard on his back. Yet, his heart was light and energy raced through his body, for his lady had gifted him with a kiss. Even after she vanished from his sight, he remained still from sheer shock and joy.

  A long time seemed to pass before rationality seeped into his dreamy thoughts, and Kael stirred. He shook himself as if coming awake from a dream, and then moved backward, staring up at the imposing façade of the hotel, looking for a lighted window.

  But all remained dark. She could have a room on the other side. Hadn’t he heard that the ones overlooking the gardens were the most luxurious?

  Although reluctant to leave Sophia’s vicinity, he slowly sauntered down the street to the saloon, where he’d left Big Brute tied at the hitching rail. Each step took him farther from So
phia and into reality. As the magic wore off, Kael began to doubt his recollection of what had just happened.

  Did I take advantage of her? The thought shamed him. Yes, Sophia was the one who’d first kissed him. Yet, he hadn’t taken into account her shaken state and treated her with the utmost delicacy. No, Kael had plundered her mouth as if he were a knight discovering treasure. Although, he reminded himself, In truth, the lady seemed to enjoy the experience as much as I did.

  The Songbird was a woman of the world, and she had probably been kissed many times before. Just the thought made him want to growl and rip those men in half.

  Nevertheless, a gentleman—and Kael certainly considered himself one—did not take advantage of a lady. I’ll need to apologize.

  Unless…will that offend her? Make her think I didn’t enjoy kissing her? Now that he’d thoroughly tied himself in knots, Kael wasn’t sure what he’d do when next he met Sophia. I’ll take my cue from the lady.

  The thought of seeing Sophia, of the hope that she might have enjoyed their intimacy as much as he had, made energy course through him again. He reached the saloon and picked up his mackinaw from the ground, shaking off the dust. He glanced through the window and changed his mind about heading home.

  Instead, he walked into the light and noise. No one had taken his place at the round table. In spite of feeling like the momentous change in his life had altered time itself, Kael realized he hadn’t been gone for very long.

  He reached into his pocket for some money, took the seat, and cocked an eyebrow at Donny Addison, who’d just started shuffling the cards for the next round.

  The rancher scowled at him.

  The man’s perpetually ill-humored. Kael grinned back. “Deal me in, Addison. I’m feeling lucky.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The next morning, Sophia woke feeling rested, even though her dreams had been full of Kael Kelley. This was a relief from the dark, frightening nightmares she’d struggled with since her collapse, and, indeed, even earlier as the pressures about the performance robbed her of sleep. Far better to have dreams of him rather than nightmares about my collapse on stage! Although, oddly, now she felt even more bonded to the attractive man than she had the night before.

  Blythe’s wedding! With a thrill of excitement, she remembered what day it was. Throwing off the bedcovers, Sophia stood, reaching for her mauve dressing gown. She glanced out the window, relieved to see sunshine.

  As she walked to the door leading to the bathroom, Sophia donned the robe. She could tell by the damp towel, hung neatly on a rack, that Blythe had already bathed. She used the toilet and, avoiding looking in the mirror as much as possible, washed her hands and face, then brushed her teeth. At the glimpse of her porcupine hair, she frowned, but had to admit not having to comb out her long locks saved a lot of time.

  She walked into the sitting room of their suite. The door to Blythe’s bedroom stood open. Sophia was about to enter, then realized that she couldn’t wish her friend a merry, “Good morning and happy wedding day!” With a grimace, she returned to her room to fetch the pad and pencil. Now that I’m not confined to my bedroom or to a train car, for expediency’s sake, I need to carry them in a reticule that I take everywhere.

  Hurrying into Blythe’s room, Sophia found her friend wearing a pale blue robe and standing in front of an open trunk. Her silvery white wedding gown was spread across the bed, looking freshly ironed, next to a lacy veil and a circlet of white silk roses and silver leaves.

  Seems Blythe came prepared for her wedding. Sophia wondered how long she and Peter secretly planned for this day. Guilt panged again at the ruination of the grander ceremony the two would have had. Despite Peter’s nonchalance, she suspected he would have wanted his family in Boston to attend.

  Blythe looked up and smiled. “Good morning, dearest. I can’t believe today I’ll wed my beloved Peter!” She clasped a cluster of silver satin roses to her chest. “Why, only last Christmas I was in despair of ever finding love.”

  Tears pricked Sophia’s eyes, and she stepped forward to cup Blythe’s cheek, letting her expression say all she could not.

  Blythe’s eyes glistened, and she reached up to place her hand over Sophia’s. “I know. Oh, how I know. At times like this, we don’t need words between us.”

  They lowered their arms but kept their hands clasped, mutually feeling their connection and the depths of their affection.

  Blythe held a hand to her chest. “I’m nervous.”

  Why? Sophia tilted her head in askance.

  “I’m happy my life’s changing, but I’m giving up so much that’s familiar. For the past years, my focus has been my music and…you.” Blythe sniffed. “I owe all that is good in my life to you.” A teardrop spilled over and raced down her cheek. “My career—my success and financial comfort—and even my dear Peter, for we never would have met if you and I hadn’t come here to visit Lily. The only sadness I feel today is over parting from you.”

  Today, I part with Blythe. Our lives will never be the same. Too much loss! Almost as soon as the thought intruded, Sophia chided herself for becoming morbid. As if something as wonderful as Blythe getting married could equate with the loss of my voice.

  Blythe didn’t seem to notice Sophia’s pessimistic reaction. “Of course, I feel sadness about you not speaking and singing, but I trust—” she placed her hand on her chest “—I feel it here, that your voice will return.”

  I hope you’re right. Sophia released Blythe’s hand and looked around for a handkerchief. She touched her nose and sniffed.

  Blythe laughed through her tears. “I’ve brought plenty.” She leaned over the trunk to pull out a stack, each edged with fine lace.

  Sophia took one and blew her nose. Then she looked at the handkerchief and saw the embroidered initials in one corner. B.R. She smiled and tapped the letters.

  Blythe crunched her forehead, contemplating Sophia’s meaning. Then she smiled. “Blythe Robbins, Blythe Rockwell. How convenient that I didn’t have to make new ones. Although, I did embroider a few for the wedding and honeymoon.”

  Sophia’s eyebrows rose.

  Blythe blushed. “Not that I expect to need them on my honeymoon….” She stuttered on the word. “But out here with the wind and dust….”

  Sophia gave her a knowing smile.

  Red still flagging her cheeks, Blythe moved to the bell pull next to the door. “Now that you’re awake,” she said briskly. “I’ll have breakfast sent up. Your regular meal?”

  Sophia smiled and nodded, wondering what she’d do when she didn’t have Blythe with her all the time to discern her needs and communicate with others. Of course, Lily knew her well, but they’d been parted for several years now, and even before then, their interests and careers had taken them in different directions. She pointed toward her room.

  “You’re right. Best to stay out of sight of the maid.”

  Once Sophia left Blythe’s presence, as if pulled by a magnet, her thoughts returned to Kael. She walked to the window with a view of the garden, pleased to see the manicured lawn and brick walkways, the flowers blooming in their beds—a pretty vista for the ceremony.

  Sophia wondered when Tyler and Lily would arrive and if they knew they were about to attend an impromptu wedding. But she couldn’t be bothered with writing a question that she’d soon learn the answer to.

  A knock sounded at the door, and Blythe exclaimed in pleasure.

  Breakfast must look particularly delectable. Her stomach rumbled in response, surprising her, for Sophia had lost her appetite with her illness. She pressed a hand to her stomach, hoping hunger was a sign of healing for both her body and her soul.

  When Sophia heard the door close again, she moved into the sitting area to see Blythe holding a bouquet of white roses and ferns tied with silver ribbons.

  “Peter told me he’d see to the flowers.” Blythe’s face glowed. “The maid brought these up. Aren’t they beautiful?” She sniffed the bouquet. “So fragrant. I’ll
have to press some later so I can save them.”

  Sophia walked over for her own sniff of the beautiful flowers, inhaling the heady sweetness.

  Blythe frowned. “I forgot to tell you. In order to preserve your secret, Reverend Norton suggested we marry here at the hotel or at their house or Reverend Joshua’s. Anyone can walk into the church, and people usually do when they see a wedding about to start. I don’t want you to wear a veil for the whole ceremony. I want to see your face.”

  Sophia wrinkled her nose in a teasing expression and wrote: You’ll have eyes only for Peter.

  Blythe blushed. “Not every minute,” she protested. “And, as I was saying…. Peter and I chose the hotel for the ceremony, and I picked the conservatory because that’s Peter’s favorite room in the hotel. Much of our courtship took place there.”

  I know. I witnessed two shy people’s immediate attraction, gave them each a few nudges toward the other, and watched them fall in love. Sophia clapped her hands together, her sign of approval. Perfect.

  Another knock sounded, and Sophia fled to her bedroom to get dressed. She left the door cracked open to hear the sounds of the maid setting the small table for their breakfast.

  Once the girl left, Sophia emerged, once again garbed in widow’s weeds.

  Arrayed on the cloth-covered table were a pot of tea, slices of lemon fanned out on a small plate, along with scrambled eggs and cheese, slices of crisp bacon, and toast, with crystal dishes of butter, honey, an assortment of jams, and a bowl of strawberries. For a frontier hotel, The Livingston manages a lovely breakfast.

  After they’d finished eating and the tray of dishes was removed, Sophia played lady’s maid, helping Blythe don a single layer of laced petticoat over her fine, lace-edged and embroidered chemise and drawers, before carefully lifting the wedding gown and lowering the skirt over Blythe’s raised arms and then her head. Then she laced up the crisscrossed ribbons on the back of the bodice, knowing Peter would be the one to untie them and wishing she could tease the bride and say so. Blythe would blush again.