by Craig, Emma
“Hmph.”
He laughed. “It’ll be fun, stepping out with me. You can tell me about your family, and I can tell you about mine. We can swap tales of knavery and vice and have ourselves a fine old time. Maybe you can offer me another prediction.” His skin crawled even as the words left his lips, and he wished he hadn’t brought that damned prediction up.
She eyed him slantwise and said, “There’s no need for that, Mr. Caine. I’m sure the prediction is the same now as it was when you heard it. You have, after all, only one life.” She smiled.
Suppressing a shudder, he slathered on the insolence and nudged her with his elbow, deciding to forget the prediction—if he could. “C’mon, Miss Sophie. You can see how much longer you can resist my charms, and I can see how much longer I can keep trying to seduce you without succeeding. And we can both see how much longer it takes Miss Juniper to figure out what we’re doing.”
Her lovely lips twitched, and he knew she was fighting a smile. Why in hell was she so determined to resist him? He really didn’t want her to dislike him, and he realized with surprise that it had to do with more than his desire to get into her drawers. Not that he didn’t want to do that; of course he did. Hell, any man would. But there was more to Miss Sophie than mere Amazonian beauty. She had within her something mysterious, something she kept locked tightly away, something that intrigued the daylights out of him.
Not only that, but he had discovered during the past several days that he actually liked the wench. She had character, did Sophie Madrigal. And heart, which she persisted in lavishing on her ugly dog. And that, damn it all, didn’t seem right to Gabriel Caine, who wouldn’t mind a little bit of her heart being lavished on him, God save him.
Juniper scuttled up to them, and he had to cease flirting. He was sorry about it, too, since Sophie seemed on the verge of an honest belly laugh. Gabriel had noticed more than once in his pursuit of women that they were more apt to be disarmed by humor than by melting looks—especially the smart ones, like Sophie.
“Dmitri said we should wait in the station until he returns, Sophie.” She fluttered up to Gabriel, again reminding him of a little bird. “I’m sure we’ll be fine, Mr. Caine. It was kind of you to offer to remain with us, but I’m sure Dmitri won’t belong.”
“Nonsense,” he said with a smile guaranteed to make Miss Sophie scowl and Miss Juniper’s heart go pitty-pat. “It will be my extreme pleasure to wait with you ladies. Then I’ll escort you to your hotel.”
“Oh, thank you, Mr. Caine. Although I know it’s silly of me, I can’t help but feel safer when a man is with us.”
“My God,” muttered Sophie.
He grinned his most wicked grin at her.
* * * *
Aunt Juniper and Tybalt seemed sorry to bid him adieu at the door of their suite in the Cosmopolitan Hotel on Main Street. Gabriel thought the Cosmopolitan was a pretentious name for the dun-colored hotel in the dun-colored hellhole of Tucson, Arizona Territory, but he didn’t say so. Miss Sophie merely gave him a superior frown as he tipped his hat and said he’d be by to fetch them for dinner at seven.
Gabriel didn’t have the same exquisite requirements in temporary abodes as the Madrigal ladies. From what he’d gathered of their origins, he wondered where they’d acquired such refined tastes, but he couldn’t help but appreciate them for having done so. After he’d deposited the Madrigals at the Cosmopolitan, he checked into his own hotel room on the second floor of the Oriental, a scrubby-looking building whose first floor was given over to a gambling hall. Gabriel felt right at home.
Once lodging was taken care of, he donned a clean white shirt and clean black trousers, brushed out his travel-stained black coat, and wiped his boots. Then he put on a fresh collar, straightened his tie and pulled his white cuffs down to cover the derringer hidden up his sleeve. Then he stuffed a second derringer into his coat pocket, jammed his hunting knife into his boot scabbard, and stuck his Colt revolver into the back of his waistband.
After all that, he made sure his mustache was combed, his face was clean, and his hat settled at the appropriate damn-it-all-gambling-man angle. He checked to make sure his cocky, devil-may-care grin was in place and his teeth looked clean and bright.
Then Gabriel Caine went hunting.
Chapter Four
Sophie helped her aunt out of her gown and corset, and then Juniper lay down to take a nap.
“For you know, Sophie, I find this excessive heat dreadfully enervating.”
Gratefully stepping out of her heavy bombazine frock, Sophie murmured, “It is, indeed.” Then, as Juniper settled onto the bed, Sophie went about selecting a lighter-weight costume . She smiled at her aunt. Juniper reminded her of Tybalt as she fluffed her pillows, twisted this way and that, and finally settled into a comfortable position, curled up like a kitten, Tybalt snoring peacefully next to her. Sophie loved her aunt so much. She regretted having to hurt Juniper, but in this instance there was no way to avoid it.
After she’d loosened her own corset and donned a cooler dress, Sophie dug into her flowered carpetbag and withdrew her shiny Colt Lightning revolver. With an expert’s care, she loaded, tested, and aimed it. For six months now, ever since she’d formed her determination to rid the world of Ivo Hardwick, Sophie had taken every opportunity that presented itself to practice with her gun. By this time she could shoot the pips out of a playing card at twenty yards.
Putting a hole through Ivo Hardwick’s black heart should be child’s play. She could hardly wait to do it.
Then she thrust the gun into her handbag, donned her iciest expression in order to repel unwanted advances, picked up her parasol, and sailed out the door, making sure she locked it. She’d already told Aunt Juniper that she planned to take a walk and view the wonders of Tucson. Juniper, who always tried to avoid unpleasant truths until forced to do otherwise, had smiled and told her to have a good time.
Dmitri’s room was down the hall from Sophie and Juniper’s, and Dmitri answered Sophie’s brisk knock immediately. She suspected he’d been waiting for it. Dmitri was the most loyal human being she’d ever met.
“All right, Dmitri, let us be off. I shall stop off at the front desk in order to ascertain the address of the boardinghouse at which Mr. Huffy is staying.”
Dmitri nodded, not at all disconcerted by the prospect of aiding and abetting Sophie in the commission of a murder. No, thought Sophie savagely; what she had planned wasn’t murder. What she had planned would be the execution of a murderer; there was a huge difference.
The front desk clerk eyed Sophie appreciatively and smiled.
She smiled back sweetly, willing even to be polite to something so foul as a man if it would promote her cause.”Can you tell me where I might find Miss Partridge’s Boardinghouse, my good fellow? A friend of mine is stopping there, and I wish to pay a call upon her.”
“Miss Partridge’s, ma’am?” The clerk’s smile faded. He looked troubled. “Miss Partridge’s ain’t in the best part of town, ma’am. I don’t think you want to go there.”
“Oh, but you’re quite wrong.” Sophie glittered at him, showing her perfect white teeth, and he swallowed and took a step backwards. This was the reaction she expected from that particular smile. This fellow was performing just as he was supposed to perform. Unlike some men she could mention. Or one man, at any rate.
“Yes, ma’am.” Without further ado, the clerk gave her directions.
“Thank you very much.” She bestowed one final glitter upon the desk clerk before she turned and marched away, Dmitri trotting at her side. She saw the clerk blink at her as if he wasn’t sure what had hit him.
Damn all men to hell who believed a woman’s place ought to be tucked away, out of sight, out of trouble, only appearing when and where men thought they should appear, and then only to perform the functions men approved of. Sophie wanted nothing to do with any of them. She wished more men could be like Dmitri: kindhearted, loyal, pleasant. On the other hand, if Dmitri weren’t a midg
et, he probably wouldn’t be as nice as he was, since he wouldn’t have to be.
Bother. Sometimes Sophie wondered if she were becoming too cynical for her own good.
As for Miss Partridge’s Boardinghouse, however, the desk clerk proved to be correct in that its location was not the best. Unflinching, ignoring the rundown condition of the neighborhood, Sophie trotted up the rickety steps and rapped on the door. Within minutes, she was face to face with Emerald Huffy, the man whose intelligence regarding the whereabouts of Ivo Hardwick had lured her to Tucson.
Huffy was a small, weathered man, who looked like somebody had left him out in the sun too long. He was a good four inches shorter than Sophie and as skinny as a fence post.
He looked like he was about a hundred and ten, but Sophie knew for a fact that he was only thirty-eight years old. She guessed life in the Territories was hard on a man. Which was as it should be. After all, life everywhere was hard on a woman. Huffy led her and Dmitri to the shabby front parlor of Miss Partridge’s.
“Is he still in Tucson?” Sophie asked without preamble.
Huffy, having worked with Sophie for several months now, was undismayed by her cut-and-dried manner. “Yes’m. I’ll have to figger out where he’s at, if’n you want to have a go at him right away.”
“I should prefer to undertake my mission after dark, Mr. Huffy. My aunt and I are staying at the Cosmopolitan. We have a dinner engagement at seven, but I should be back in room 2 by nine o’clock.” Her lips pursed when she contemplated how neatly Gabriel Caine had usurped her evening hours. “I can’t imagine our meal taking any longer than that.”
Huffy sighed as if he wasn’t sure he should be doing what he was doing, even for money. Sophie, who had anticipated such a reaction, withdrew an envelope from her reticule. “I have a bonus for you, Mr. Huffy. You’ve done your job well.”
Without a word, Huffy took the envelope, opened it, took out the banknotes, and counted them with fingers that looked like wrinkled brown twigs. Then he nodded and said, “Appreciate it, Miss Madrigal.”
“You’re quite welcome.” Sophie took a deep breath. The next part was tricky. “In giving you that bonus, I expect a certain amount of discretion, Mr. Huffy. I trust the money will buy your silence.”
Huffy looked up from the envelope, into which he’d returned the money. His nature was taciturn, which had been one of the reasons Sophie had chosen him in the first place. She’d looked long and hard for a man with Huffy’s reputation for silence, sobriety, efficiency, and ruthlessness.
“I don’t gen’ly blab much,” he said.
“Good.” Sophie inclined her head like a queen granting a favor to a subject. “Then I shall expect you to visit my hotel room shortly after nine o’clock this evening, bearing with you intelligence regarding Mr. Ivo Hardwick’s whereabouts.”
“Yes’m.”
“That won’t present a problem for you?”
“No, ma’am.”
Nodding, Sophie rose. Dmitri pushed himself off of his seat, too. His feet didn’t reach the floor, and he had to hop down from his chair. With another terse nod, Sophie turned and left Mr. Emerald Huffy to the questionable comforts of Miss Partridge’s front parlor.
* * * *
Gabriel ordered wine with dinner. If he hadn’t, Sophie was sure she’d never have become involved in such an animated conversation with him. She was not, after all, an admirer of Mr. Gabriel Caine.
“I fail to see why you think women should be kept deprived of the vote, Mr. Caine,” she said, girding herself to do battle. Not that she cared much about the vote. As much as she admired Elizabeth Cady Stanton for her spunk and valor, Sophie and politics didn’t mix well. She’d as soon consign all politicians to the Pit and be done with them.
She was, however, experiencing an odd sensation of delight with tonight’s conversation. Of course, that was only because she seldom had anyone with whom to argue. Juniper would sooner die than disagree with anybody about anything. Sophie was also experiencing that odd sense of precognition that only seemed to assail her whilst she was in Gabriel Caine’s company. Sophie found it rather invigorating.
“My opinion is based on experience, Miss Sophie.”
“Of which, I’m sure you have an abundance.”
Although Sophie smiled sweetly, Aunt Juniper, mortified, whispered, “Sophie!” Sophie naturally paid her no mind.
Gabriel chuckled. “Enough,” he said. “I reckon I do have enough experience to have formed a valid opinion.”
“I doubt that the sort of experience to which you refer would have given you any indication at all of the intellectual capacity of women, Mr. Caine.” Sophie sniffed and took another sip of the really quite delicious wine. She didn’t understand how the proprietor of the hotel’s restaurant could keep wine cool enough to maintain its integrity in this hellish place.
Juniper uttered a muffled moan.
Gabriel picked up his knife and fork, cut a small piece of his succulent steak, and popped it into his mouth. Sophie did likewise. She had a feeling he, like she, was recruiting his resources to continue their verbal sparring match. She couldn’t offhand recall the last time she’d had so much fun, although she wouldn’t admit it to a soul.
Juniper, watching them warily, evidently hoped to prevent bloodshed. Since both Sophie’s and Gabriel’s mouths were occupied in mastication, she hurried into the conversation. “I don’t mean to disagree with you, certainly, Mr. Caine, but I tend to believe dear Sophie is in the right on this issue. I don’t believe women are inherently inferior to men in intellect.”
Sophie beamed benevolently upon her darling aunt. Juniper was such a dear to agree with her; she generally wasn’t so obliging—mainly because she was usually too embarrassed to join in one of Sophie’s arguments.
Gabriel smiled at Juniper as he might smile at a small child and reached for the salt cellar. “You may be right about intelligence, Miss Madrigal, but don’t you believe women are a little more emotionally unstable than men?”
Sophie, recalling the prediction she’d had about him, pinched her lips together. “Nonsense,” she said.
Juniper swallowed. “Well—I—perhaps—”
“Just the tiniest bit, perhaps?”
Gabriel Caine’s seductive smile ought to be outlawed, Sophie thought bitterly. Perceiving that her aunt was fluttering in a sticky web, she spoke up for her. “Unstable? Not at all. Men believe women are emotionally unstable because most men—not all of them—can’t be bothered to care about anything.” Sophie knew it for a certified fact.
“Is that so?” It didn’t look to her as if Gabriel believed a word of it. The rat.
Sophie went on, undeterred by his doubt. “Most women pay attention to their emotions and those of others, unlike most men, who like to pretend emotions don’t exist. I believe such attention is to their credit, not their detriment.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes.” Sophie glared at him and took another sip of wine. She hated most of the men in the world with a passion at that moment. “Most of the men I’ve met are forever denying the obvious and professing it doesn’t exist—or, worse, that it doesn’t matter. Or,” she added with the hurt and animosity that had been her companion for years, “they lie about it.”
Gabriel’s eyebrow lifted and he tilted his head to one side.”I believe I’ll need an example if you expect me to swallow that one, Miss Sophie.”
She wanted to smack his insolent face and show him exactly what she meant, but she figured he’d only chalk such a gesture up to emotional instability, so she didn’t. And she’d be damned if she’d tell him her own story. It was precious to her, and he didn’t deserve it. Instead, she chose a less personal topic and used an example from that.
“Women understand the emotional tolls of, for example, war. Men are forever rushing about irritating each other so they can fight. Invariably, too, they attach noble motives to such basically infantile behavior.
“Women have more sense, because the
y understand beforehand what the costs of such reckless actions will be. Of course,” she added acidly, “it’s always the women who have to take care of the aftermath. They do the mopping up while their men are either dead or drinking away their victories or their losses in a saloon somewhere.”
Aunt Juniper whispered a scandalized, “Sophie!” Sophie was sorry to see the bleak cast to her eyes. Juniper, unlike Gabriel, knew all about Sophie and her pathetic past.
Gabriel, however, actually tilted his wineglass at her.”Touché, Miss Sophie. I think you’ve made an excellent point.”
His voice was as gentle as Juniper’s, but Sophie reacted to it in a way she’d never reacted to Juniper. Ripples of chills chased hot charges through her veins. She could hardly believe she was actually responding to this beast’s practiced lures. She’d understood herself to be crafted of sterner stuff. Or, if not so crafted originally, she’d assumed the fires of misery and disappointment had tempered her to firmer steel than these chills and hot flashes indicated. She was angry with herself and stabbed a piece of steak as she wished she could stab Gabriel Caine.
His knowing grin told her he knew exactly what she wanted to do to his precious flesh. She glowered at him, which did as much good as it ever had. She wished she had Tybalt with her so she could pay attention to her own perfect dog and ignore the miserable, imperfect dog sitting at the table with her. But Tybalt was snoozing happily in her hotel room, and she had to contend with Gabriel Caine without any help at all.
She took heart from the knowledge that as soon as this interminable meal was over, she would, with luck and care, be able to consummate the purpose of her life. The realization calmed her, and her bad mood lifted. She even smiled at Gabriel, who looked almost as astonished as he had when she’d fed the young man to the tiger.
The meal ended at last, and Gabriel saw the Madrigal ladies to their hotel room. Sophie politely declined his offer of an after-dinner coffee with him in the hotel lounge, although Juniper was disappointed that she did so. Sophie tried to assuage her aunt’s tender feelings by assuring her that a hotel lounge in Tucson, Arizona Territory must be a shocking place and not at all refined enough for a delicate female.