Silken Dreams

by Bingham, Lisa

  Lettie grew cold, still. Her heart began to pound fiercely in her breast. “No.”

  Jacob stared at her, his eyes dark and cloaked. Then he placed his hat on his head and turned to leave.

  “Jacob!” she called when he was nearly out of the room.

  He twisted his head to glance at her over his shoulder.

  “Why—” She halted and tried to appear as casual as possible. “I told you before that I hadn’t seen him. Why would you ask me again?”

  “A secret shipment of gold has been delivered into town.”

  Lettie felt a cold lump settle in her stomach.

  “Oh?”

  “Mr. Gruber’s afraid that the Gentleman might make an appearance.”

  He turned to leave, hesitated, then glanced over his shoulder and said, “I’m sorry if I wasn’t the brother I should have been, Lettie. I only wanted to see to it that you weren’t hurt.”

  She gazed at her brother with sad eyes, realizing that things could never be the same between them. Even if they could patch up the strain that existed between them now, Jacob would never be able to return to his former role as an overprotective dictator. Because Lettie could never return to her role as a child.

  “I don’t say it often enough, Lettie, but…” He glanced down at his hat, then looked up at her again. “I love you, little sister. I’m so proud of you. I’d do anything to see you happy.”

  Lettie’s throat seemed to tighten in surprise and unexpected tears. For a moment, Jacob seemed to be looking at her as if he’d never seen her before. His eyes were dark and inscrutable. His brow furrowed as if he were debating some weighty problem. Before she could speak, however, Jacob had turned and walked from the room.

  “Jacob?” She took a step forward, then picked up her skirts and ran after him. “Jacob!”

  By the time she reached the porch, Jacob had already mounted his horse and ridden from the yard. Grasping the porch support, Lettie watched him go, the cold heavy sensation still lingering in her stomach. Something had upset her brother, something more than the recent tension between them. It was almost as if…

  He’d come to warn her.

  Lettie’s breathing came quick and sharp and her limbs began to tremble. But had Jacob come to warn her! Or had his warning been intended for Ethan?

  Jacob brought his mount to a slow halt and glanced over his shoulder. His sister had returned to the house.

  Taking a deep drag of the heavy air, Jacob prayed that his suspicions would prove unfounded. He prayed that Lettie was indeed ignorant of McGuire’s whereabouts.

  But if Ethan McGuire appeared that night at the Madison Thrift and Loan, Jacob would have to believe that tiny voice within him that whispered Lettie was not as innocent in this affair as she appeared.

  And all this time, she’d known just where to find Ethan McGuire.

  Lettie moved back into the kitchen, her movements slow and automatic. Sighing, she clasped her skirts in one hand and bent to grasp the handle of the huge copper laundry tub she’d dragged into the middle of the floor only moments before. Just as it did every week, wash day had once again approached. Tomorrow morning, Lettie would be relieved of helping with meals so that she could attack the pile of linens, dishcloths, and boarders’ clothing in need of washing.

  Pulling the tub outside and across the back porch, Lettie left it lying next to the railing where no one would trip over it, but in a spot where it would be safe until the next day. Since the copper pot was kept in the cellar between laundry days, it was easier to remove the tub the day before she needed it, rather than fight the morning rush.

  Turning toward the creek, Lettie rested her hands on her hips and gazed out toward the golden ball of sunlight hovering high above the treetops beyond the creekline. Lands, it was hot! Despite the fact that the day was finally beginning to wane, the muggy air seemed to cloak her in a lethargic haze until it was all she could do to draw breath into her lungs and let it out again. Most of the boarders had abandoned the house for the thick shade to be found on the front porch. There they could sit and talk about the activity they could see in town or the neighbors that strolled by on their way home to supper.

  Lettie could only wonder how Ethan was faring in the sultry heat of room five, where he’d spent the afternoon. She’d been able to see him just once—briefly—when she’d brought him his lunch tray. Since she’d also brought more maps and periodicals, she assumed he’d spent most of the afternoon poring over the diagrams and dated newspapers that held articles on the latest raids of the Gentleman Bandit.

  “It’s hot today, isn’t it?”

  Lettie started at the low voice behind her and turned to find Ned Abernathy staring at her from within the doorway to the kitchen.

  “Hello, Ned.” When his stare became intense and a little uncomfortable, she turned away, ostensibly to study the dusty grass baking in the late-afternoon sun. “Yes. Yes, it is hot.”

  She heard the clump of his boots across the weathered wood of the porch and knew the moment Ned stopped, directly behind her. There was a space of silence, then she heard him take a breath.

  “Lettie?”

  She turned, but only enough so that she could see him without looking him directly in the eyes, since he seemed to be studying her so intently. “Yes?”

  “Lettie, I’ve been trying for days now … I mean…” He dropped his head and studied the tips of his boots for a moment, then glanced up, his eyes dark and filled with untold secrets.

  “What is it, Ned?”

  He took another gulp of air. “Remember that time by the chicken coop, when I told you I thought your dress was pretty?”

  “Yes.”

  “I actually wanted to tell you…”

  “What, Ned?”

  “That I liked you.”

  “I like you, too, Ned.”

  “No—” He looked up. “I—I mean, I really like you.” He swallowed, and his eyes became slightly desperate. “I’d do anything for you. Anything. If I could, I’d see to it that all those poems you write came true.”

  Lettie grew still when she realized Ned was trying to tell her that he had grown fond of her.

  “I know your brother’s real protective of you—and your mama’s got her standards.…” His voice became strangled with evident nerves. “But do you suppose you could ever… like me, too?”

  Lettie felt a prick of guilt and compassion for the quiet man beside her who was trying so hard. “Well, I don’t know, Ned. Of course, I already like you… quite a bit.”

  His features seemed to lighten in hope, and Lettie knew then that she couldn’t deceive him. She reached out to touch his arm. Though he started, she did not back away.

  Taking a breath, she continued: “But I don’t know if I could ever… like you the way you want me to, Ned.”

  He seemed to sag a little beneath the slight weight of her hand. Then he backed away, a look of quiet dignity spreading across his features. Without saying anything more, he turned and escaped into the kitchen.

  Lettie watched him go with sad eyes, her hand slowly dropping to her side.

  “It’s just as well, Lettie.”

  She glanced over her shoulder to find her mother watching her from the grass by the side of the house. Celeste moved forward, cradling a cache of carrots in the scooped-up folds of her apron.

  Lettie stiffened at her mother’s words. “Why? Because he’s just a boarder?” she asked defiantly.

  Celeste shook her head and climbed the back steps, her movements slow and somehow weary. “No. Because he’s just a boy.” She reached out to touch Lettie’s cheek with a single finger, her skin slightly rough from the dirt of the garden and the calluses of her daily chores.

  “You have grown up, haven’t you, Lettie?” Her voice grew soft, almost indistinguishable in the night air. “It’s happened all of a sudden, I think. Either that, or I haven’t been paying you much mind lately.”

  Turning, she disappeared into the house. Through the windows, L
ettie watched as her mother dumped the carrots onto the counter next to the pump, then unhooked a pail from the rack beside the stove. She pumped it full of water and began to scrub the baby vegetables.

  Somehow, Lettie found herself shivering slightly in the sultry heat. Her mother seemed so frail in the harsh light of the afternoon, so… alone. Yet things had been different when Lettie’s father had been alive. So different.

  Turning away, Lettie leaned against the railing, uncomfortable with her own unwitting insights. Although she might try to push happier thoughts into her mind, she couldn’t help wondering if she, too, would become a hollow shell once Ethan left Madison for parts unknown.

  Lettie’s hands curled around the weathered wood of the railing, and she took a deep breath. Ethan had asked her to consider the consequences. The price. Yet, as the hot air settled around her, Lettie couldn’t help wondering if the price might be even more dear if she were to let him leave her without loving him. Just once.

  Silence settled over Ethan with the same heavy weight as the muggy summer air. Soon after returning from the creek, he’d moved into Mrs. Magillicuddy’s room near the back staircase, so that the boarders would believe “Agnes” was in residence. He’d spent the afternoon poring over the information he’d gathered from the boarders’ rooms as well as his trip into town.

  As the afternoon became evening, Ethan became drawn into the maps and periodicals spread across the bed. He barely noticed the way the ribbons of sunlight spilling around the window shade slipped across the floor, then extended across the coverlet. It was late when he finally surfaced from his own deep thoughts. A warm certainty began to seep into his mind as he stared at the grainy picture on the front page of a Madison Gazette dated nearly two months earlier. Though he couldn’t be sure, he thought that he’d just discovered the identity of one of the men he’d heard discussing his fate near the jailhouse corral.

  Stepping toward the light around the window shade, he studied the photograph with great care, taking in the tall, lean build of the man. Although the picture was an imperfect shade of sienna brown and cream, Ethan thought that the man’s hair would probably be silver.

  There was a rattling of the doorknob, and Ethan dropped the paper onto the bed and retrieved his revolver from beneath the pillow. Standing behind the edge of the armoire, he waited as a key was slowly turned in the lock and the knob turned. When he saw Lettie entering with a tray, he automatically relaxed.

  “Supper,” she stated. “Sorry I’m late, but I finished cleaning up the rest of the dishes first.”

  He pulled a face at the bland fare prepared for him by Celeste Grey, but since Lettie had told her mother he was suffering from a bad case of “dietary distress”—which prevented him from joining the other boarders—there wasn’t much hope in being offered a piece of beef steak or even a hearty stew.

  “Looks good,” he commented nonetheless, taking in the rich smells of homemade custard, fresh fruit, greens, and bread.

  Automatically, Lettie took the glass of bicarbonate from the tray, dumped it out of the open window, then returned. As she neared the bed, she glanced at the paper on top of the cover.

  Reaching for a radish, Ethan waited until she had seen the picture before asking, “Do you know him?”

  “Judge Krupp? Of course. He’s served Madison for years.”

  “Judge?” he repeated.

  “Mmm. Jacob knows him better than I. Judge Krupp seems to be nice enough, but he has a reputation for being a bit of a hanging judge.”

  The radish lay forgotten in Ethan’s hand. “He’s a judge?” he asked again.

  Lettie glanced up at him curiously. “Yes. Why?”

  “Nothing.” Ethan bit into the radish. “The name seemed familiar.”

  “He’s been in the news quite a bit lately.” She threw the paper back onto the bed. “Judge Krupp presided over a case involving the Willie gang in Dewey a few months back. Before the trial could end, there was an attempted escape and the men were executed by the Star before—Ethan?”

  He jerked his mind back with great difficulty.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing, I…” His words trailed away, and once again, his thoughts began to whirl within him like grappling hounds. There was something that he should be noting, something that would connect.

  “I’ve got to go. Mama will be suspicious if I don’t spend some time in the parlor.”

  Once again, he yanked his thoughts back. “Yeah. Thanks for the food.”

  “Ethan?”

  She waited expectantly, and Ethan knew she waited for a kiss, a touch, some show of affection. But he made no move toward her. He couldn’t. If he touched her again, he knew his control would shatter. Though he would have laughed at any man for telling him so a month ago, Ethan found himself ensnared by a mere slip of a girl. A young, innocent girl. And he would do anything to keep from hurting her more than he had already.

  “My brother came by,” Lettie stated softly. “A secret gold shipment has arrived in town. They’re worried the Gentleman will show up.” She hesitated. “I think he was trying to warn me.”

  Ethan regarded her carefully after that statement. “Of what?”

  “I don’t know. He seemed… jumpy.”

  “Where’s the shipment?”

  “Madison City Thrift and Loan—Mr. Gruber’s bank.”

  Once again, the name teased something on the fringes of Ethan’s memory. “Gruber,” he repeated softly, more to himself than to Lettie.

  “Silas Gruber—the man we saw today by the train. You know, Natalie’s husband. I told you about Natalie. The two of them don’t get along too well.”

  Ethan took a step toward her, his eyes narrowing. “How long have the Grubers lived here?”

  “I don’t know… five years. They came from Chicago, where Mr. Gruber managed a bank. Natalie’s always complaining about the fact that they were sent here as some sort of demotion. She was bitter about that for a while, but lately she seems to have adapted to—Ethan?”

  His head jerked up, and he pushed aside his whirling thoughts to give her his full attention.

  “Ethan, I…”

  Her words trailed away, and she took a step toward him. One delicate finger lifted to push aside a lock of hair that had fallen to his forehead, and he jerked slightly. Her skin was warm, soft. She smelled of sunlight and lilac water.

  Heaven help him, he wanted her. And her love.

  “Don’t back away from me. Please.”

  He closed his eyes against her plea. “Lettie.” He sighed. “I’ll have to go soon.”

  “I know. Just don’t leave me before you actually go.”

  He opened his eyes to gaze at her, his face once again masked, and she reached out to touch his heart.

  “You’re leaving me here”—she touched his temple—“and here.” She stepped forward until her skirts brushed his thighs. And her breasts—dear heaven, her breasts feathered across his chest, filling him with a pounding hunger that grew sharper each time she stepped into the same room with him.

  “I know what you’re trying to do, Ethan. You think I’ll hurt less if you stay as far away from me as possible in the next few days. But I’ll hurt more, Ethan. I need your strength, your passion, your tenderness. They’re the memories I’ll treasure forever. Please don’t leave me with memories of your distance.”

  Closing his eyes to her earnest expression, Ethan slipped his arms around her waist and drew her tightly against him, holding her next to his heart as if he had the right to keep her there for all time. Her arms clutched his shoulders, and he felt her shaking. There was nothing he could deny her if only she were to ask.

  “Can I come to you tonight?”

  He froze, realizing that she was asking him to make love to her.

  “Please?” she whispered next to his ear.

  Ethan squeezed his eyes shut and held her even tighter, fighting the emotions roiling within him, before finally whispering, “
I’ll come to you. After everyone is asleep.”

  Chapter 18

  I eased deeper into the warm, fragrant water of my bath and rested my head against the porcelain rim. Dipping one idle finger into the petal-strewn water, I closed my eyes and allowed the scented liquid to lap over my breasts.

  He would be here. Soon.

  Slowly, sensually, I smiled. As if he were already there, I breathed deeply of the pungent scent of the candles and the musky odor of the roses. My finger drew idle circles across the surface of the water, and I imagined the touch of his fingers against my ribs, the warmth of his breath against my nape.

  The soft snick of a key in the lock split the silence, and I knew he had come. Just as he’d promised. Standing up, I reached for the bath sheet draped across my bed and turned, holding the cloth to my body and stepping from the bath.

  I stood rooted as the door to my bedchamber opened, letting in a soft swirl of air. Around me, a forest of candles sputtered. Light shivered, danced. The pungent odor of smoke grew sharper, then disappeared as the musky scent of roses drifted through the garden windows.

  He took a single step forward, his muscles moving sinuously beneath the tight fabric of his breeches and the fullness of his shirt Then the door snapped closed behind him, shutting out the blackness of the hall and sealing us in the whispered light of the candles. Silence shimmered like silk in the air. An eloquent silence filled with intimate words of the heart.

  My lips tilted in a rich, provocative smile. Slowly, sensually, my hands lifted to the pins that held my hair. My fingers paused.

  He barely seemed to breathe.

  One by one, I drew the gold hairpins from the dark twists of my hair, allowing the pins to drop to the floor with a delicate metallic patter. Then I arched my head back so that my hair fell from its intricate coils in a thick swath that swung to a point just below my hips.

  When I lifted my head and opened my eyes, he seemed to watch me more intently than before. A shimmering excitement filled my veins like the effervescent bubbles of champagne.

  He wanted me. He needed me. And I was the only woman who could satisfy him.