by Unknown
Jess walked into the room. “Marlena, the bath is free if you want to…” Jess locked eyes with Marlena for the briefest of moments before a nasally grunt sawed through her nostrils and Jess doubled over with laughter. Marlena huffed and put her hands on her hips.
“Thank you very much,” she spat, but Jess continued to guffaw until she had to hold on to the dresser to remain standing. Soon, she crossed her legs and bounced up and down.
“Oh, my God,” she moaned through the fading of her laughter. “I just peed myself.”
“Serves you right,” Marlena said, refusing to see any humor in the situation. “I have a sold out concert tonight. What am I going to do?”
“Let me go get Sarah,” Ellie said.
Marlena rushed to the door to bar her exit. “Absolutely not! Sarah will have a conniption fit. I need my maid. She is the one who dyes my hair. I’ll just have to get her to do it before the show tonight.”
Ellie nodded, but Lila stepped forward. “I’ll get her. Ellie, you need to bathe and change into dry clothes.”
“And I need to change into dry clothes,” Jess said with a giggle.
With all three women gone, Marlena stripped out of her swimming clothes and put on a plain blue skirt and wool bodice of a matching color. It was the outfit she wore during her dyes, and so was the cheapest, plainest form of attire she owned. Soon, her maid arrived.
“Ginny, you are a Godsend,” she said, pulling the young Irish woman in.
“Oh, dear, Miss,” she said, eyeing her hair. “You’re in a bit of a spot.”
“Can you fix it before tonight’s show?”
Ginny’s head shook back and forth. “I’m afraid I can’t, Miss. I’m out of henna extract and the potash. We used the last of it in Denver and were planning to restock in San Francisco, remember?”
Marlena’s knees gave out and she sank onto the bed. “You’re right. I’d forgotten. Can you find the ingredients in Virginia City?”
“Hard to say, but it will take time to find out.”
“Time is something I don’t have. I shall have to cancel the show.”
“All of them?” Ginny asked. “All the ones from here to San Francisco?”
Marlena sighed. “No. I can’t do that. That’s too much money to lose. I’ll think of something. Thank you, Ginny. Please go search for the ingredients in the meantime.”
The maid curtseyed and left the room, after which Marlena paced back and forth, searching for some solution. Her hand crawled up to the ruby around her neck, and she held it while she thought. It was a habit she’d developed over the past year, and it had never failed her. True to form, an idea sprang into her mind, and she reached for her shawl, using it to cover her head.
Jess, Lila an Ellie sat at the dining table drinking tea when Marlena reached the bottom of the steps. Immediately, Jess’s shoulders began to shake with silent giggles. Marlena shot her a glare before making her way toward the kitchen.
“Where are you going?” Lila called.
“To the only person who can help me.”
She saddled Jess’s horse, Achilles, and rode him into Virginia City, being sure to keep her head covered and her face down. The only upward glance she spared was to the building on the corner when she turned a street. It was the location of her old home in the city, though the original building had burned. Many memories lived within those walls, but she pushed them aside as she halted Achilles before the red walls of the brothel.
Her knuckles rapped in quick succession on the door until it swung open and she was greeted by a young Mexican lady with long, shiny hair and a generously displayed bosom. As soon as she saw the huddled, hiding form of Marlena, her dark eyes softened with pity and concern.
“Are you all right, nina?”
“Um…” Marlena looked beyond the woman for Juliet, but didn’t find her. “I need to see Juliet, please. It’s extremely urgent. I...I need her help.”
The woman’s eyes roved over her figure and frowned in sympathy. “Yes, I understand.” Her English was stilted and accented, but her voice was kind and warm as she ushered Marlena inside and up the stairs.
Marlena kept her eyes on the floor and the shawl pulled down like a hood. A soft smile played across her lips as she remembered the last time she’d been in the brothel. More than six years ago, Val had brought her there for safekeeping. The carpet looked the same. Blood red.
They went through a doorway and when the woman shut the door Marlena finally stood to her height and looked around.
“Senora Juliet is not here now,” the woman said. “But you can wait for her here. You will be safe, I promise.”
Marlena turned to lock eyes with the dark-haired beauty. “Thank you. Do you know when she’ll return? I’m afraid it’s extremely urgent.”
She shook her head. “Lo siento, senorita.”
She left the room and Marlena walked around in survey. There were bottles of extracts and chemicals, but she didn’t know how to dye her hair. She’d never concerned herself with portions and names. Her only hope was that Juliet had what she needed and could get it done by nightfall. The more the minutes ticked by, the less likely that seemed possible. An hour passed before the door finally opened, and Marlena sighed with relief.
“Thank God you’re here. I need…” She turned and felt her chest expand over a gasp. “Shit!”
Chapter 21
Dalton finished packing the last of his things, made his bed and sat upon it. Indigo leapt onto the mattress and Dalton stroked the dog’s head and ears while he leaned back against the wall and sighed. Indigo stared up at him, and Dalton was comforted by the unconditional love he saw in his animal’s eyes. At least he wasn’t completely alone. “I’ve got you, boy, haven’t I?” he said as he scratched behind Indigo’s ears. The dog opened his mouth, letting his tongue spill out of it while he panted.
Dalton chuckled. “Well, we can’t wait around forever for Ma, can we? Lord knows where she’s gone off to. She’s hardly here anymore. I’d best go leave her a note or she’ll have my hide. You wait here.”
Indigo followed him to the door, tail-wagging, and Dalton turned to him. “Stay.” The dog whined but sank to the floor obediently.
Dalton went to his mother’s room next door and entered without knocking, but he stopped in his tracks when Marlena stood and faced him. And with a full head of bright pink hair. His mouth dropped open against his better judgment, but there was no help for it.
“Thank God you’re here,” she said. “I need-”
Panic engulfed her face when her eyes fell on him in the doorway.
“Shit!” she exclaimed before darting for her shawl and wrapping it around her head. She tucked the end of the shawl under the edge and patted the mound self-consciously. He wasn’t sure which was funnier…the bright pink color of her hair or the makeshift turban. His cheeks twitched around a grin and she lifted her chin.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
He shut the door, chewing on the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. “I think your answer to that question would be more interesting.” Laughter shook his entire body then, and she shot him a scathing look. He crossed his arms over his chest and cleared his throat in an attempt to stifle his chuckles.
“Ha ha ha,” she mocked, but her cheeks bloomed a rosy pink and he detected a bright sheen in her beautiful eyes. “I’m sure this is highly amusing to you.”
She collapsed back onto the couch and buried her face in her hands, weeping softly. His humor faded at the sight of her distress. He went to the couch and sat beside her, rubbing her back.
“I’m sorry for laughing at you. May I ask what happened?”
“No,” she snapped before taking a deep breath. She eyed him warily. He held his tongue while she gathered her wits. “I went swimming at the hot springs with my niece and nephews and stupidly forgot the effects of sulfur on hair dye.”
He smiled softly. “At least it was for a good cause.”
Her face tur
ned to his and her eyes brightened, as if she all of a sudden realized their proximity, all of a sudden felt his hand moving over her back. The caress turned more intimate, less soothing. His hand slid up her spine to cup the back of her neck, where he kneaded and stroked. Her back went stiff and she shot to her feet, heaving a hot breath.
“Do you know when your mother will be back? I need her to help me fix this before the concert tonight.”
“Afraid not,” he said with a shake of his head. “She wouldn’t be much use to you anyway.”
Marlena frowned. “What do you mean? I know her hair color is not natural.”
“Of course not.” He took off his jacket, unbuttoned his shirt sleeves and began rolling them up. “But she doesn’t dye her hair all by herself, you know.” She peered sideways at him, skeptical, and he held his hands out to the sides. “I’m the only one who can help you. Take it or leave it?”
Her brow wrinkled and she looked away, wringing her hands.
“I don’t really have a choice,” she finally admitted. “Are you absolutely sure you can do this?”
“Trust me,” he said. “Like you used to.”
“Please say nothing to anyone about this,” she said, unable to look him in the eye. “Sarah would be beside herself if she knew I was here. I wouldn’t have come if I weren’t desperate so let’s get this over with.”
He knew it was a bad idea, touching her, washing her hair...but he was a glutton for punishment. This was a golden opportunity. He motioned for her to join him behind the dressing screen, where he’d made a sunken basin just for this purpose. She kept her shawl plastered to her head and he nudged her shoulder.
“You’re going to have to take that off if you want me to fix your hair,” he said with an encouraging smile. “Besides, I already saw it.”
She whimpered in jest and removed the covering, and Dalton turned away to hide the return of his wide smile. Suddenly, he felt a strong jab in his bicep.
“Ow!” he said, rubbing the spot.
She tossed him a smug smirk before she sat in the chair in front of the basin. He grinned in return. There was the sassy and confident woman he’d loved on the stage in Boston. It warmed his heart to see her recover so quickly. Peering over her shoulder, she examined the distance and height differential between her head and the sink and shot him a questioning gaze.
“All right, hairdresser. How is this going to work?”
He smirked, grabbed the back of the chair and tilted it back so fast that she reached up and clutched the front of his shirt to keep from falling. She yelped and he laughed for a brief moment until he felt her hot breath move over his face. Their lips were so close as he leaned over the chair. Her breathing quickened and her eyes slid down to his mouth before darting back up to his eyes. His heart bounced around inside his ribcage and he lowered his mouth to hers, but she stopped him, relinquishing her hold on his shirt and flattening her palms against his chest to push him away.
He cleared his throat and stood, blinking away the sting of rejection, trying to look at anything other than the sad, torn look in her eyes, trying to stifle the returning ache in his chest. He wedged the chair back against the sink. “Just relax. We’re going to be here a while.”
Filling his hands with her hair, he smoothed it into the basin and pumped some water. Once her hair was wet, he went to a nearby counter and sifted through a dozen bottles before mixing a concoction.
“What are you mixing?” Marlena asked.
“We have to rid your hair of oils before we can dye it,” he said. “So, I’m going to pour this solution over it. It’s just ammonia and brandy.” He stood over her and her eyes followed his movements. “Close your eyes. Any splashes could damage them.”
She complied and he drizzled the solution over the wealth of her hair, using his fingers to work it through every strand, combing through her scalp and massaging it into the roots much longer than necessary. He worked his fingers in circular patterns near the temples and heard a low moan escape her throat. A small spark of hope ignited in his chest. Marlena was not as immune to him as she tried to appear.
After the rinse, he left her to sit while he mixed the next, most important concoction. He grabbed the vials he wanted and hesitated before beginning the mixing process. She would be furious with him when she found out what he did, but it needed to be done.
“And what’s that you’re mixing there?” she asked.
“The dye. A little peroxide of hydrogen. Some vinegar and lemon extract. A bit of walnut and copper salts.”
He listed the last two ingredients in case she was wise to the dyeing process, but he’d left them out of the solution, specifically. With a deep breath, he poured enough solution to coat her hair and began the work of massaging all over again. As he watched her hair begin to turn color, he smirked, working the solution into the strands even more. While he waited for the shade to take full effect, he mixed some shampoo, calling out the ingredients as he went.
“Sweet almonds, alcohol, some citronella oil, rose oil, chamomile leaves and Mother’s favorite bit, some rye whiskey.” He heard Marlena chuckle behind him.
He shook the chemicals together and rubbed it into her hair, knowing from experience it would make her tresses soft and luminous. Her head was small enough for his palms to completely encircle as he kneaded. He watched her lips, light pink and full, part a fraction as she enjoyed the way his fingers played over her scalp. Sweet, hot desire slid through him, warming him until he felt a small lather of sweat on his forehead. How his hands longed to smooth over every inch of her flesh. If she only knew how it would feel…
“Your touch is heavenly, Dalton” she breathed, eyes still closed.
He raked his fingernails over her scalp. “I love touching you,” he whispered back.
He pumped enough water to rinse her hair clean and was about to sit her up when he heard a sniffle and looked down to see her crying with her eyes still pinched tight. Kneeling until their faces were level, he slowly reached out to wipe away her tears.
“Why are you crying?” he asked, but she only sniffled in response. “Hey,” he soothed, cradling her face. “What’s the matter?”
He kissed her tears as they fell, each one coating him with salt until he made a path to her lips. She sucked in a breath when their mouths met, and he took advantage. Leaning into her, wrapping a hand around the back of her neck, he pulled her and the chair forward into a sitting position. Her arms flew around him, holding him tight as she pressed her body against his.
Their tongues met and clashed, sliding against one another, etching passionate lines with the tips. She pushed forward until she slid off the chair and straddled his lap, grasping his face in her hands. He stroked up and down her spine until his hands were wet and dripping from her hair. He suckled her bottom lip. She suckled his upper. He reached down to grip her bottom and press her center against the bulge of his, and she gasped.
A deluge of passion broke open inside of him, sweeping through his entire being. Fulfillment, lust, love all converged in that moment and he peeled his lips from hers to run his mouth along the column of her throat. Her head fell back and she moaned again, a soft mewling sound that almost destroyed his restraint. He moved his grip up along her sides and over the soft ridges of her ribs until the pads of his thumbs found what they sought.
Tight, hard nipples lusted after him, after his touch. He pressed against them, circling and teasing the tips until she forced his mouth back up to hers. Her hips began a gentle sway on his lap, an instinct that told him what he already knew. She wanted him as much as he wanted her.
“God, I love you, Marlena,” he whispered against her lips, and she went suddenly still. Her body heaved as she regained her breath, but then she pulled away from him and stood up.
“What am I doing?” she breathed in horror. “I will not be a party to infidelity, Dalton Cunningham!”
He came to his feet. “There’s no infidelity here. You and Harrison are not married, thank
God.”
“But you are!” she shouted, pressing her index finger into his chest.
“Dammit, woman.” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “I’m not married! Why the hell do you think that?”
She huffed incredulously. “Because you told me so yourself.”
His face twisted in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“Your letter, Dalton.”
“What letter?” he held his hands wide in supplication. “You returned every single one of my letters. You never read a one.”
“I read the first one,” she returned. “The one you wrote telling me to forget us, telling me you’d gone home to marry your old sweetheart, Rosa.”
Tears streamed down her face and she wiped them away as she challenged him with a glare. He could hardly breathe, so great was his anger. There it was, the deception that tore them apart. The weight of the anger and ruin he’d felt the past year pressed upon his chest until his breathing turned shallow.
“My God, Marlena. Someone else sent that letter.”
“What?”
His head shook vigorously. “I never sent it. I’ve still got all of the letters you returned. You can read them. They’re all full of love and hope and my promises to you. I never married Rosa. How could I when I want to marry you?”
Her eyes filled with fresh tears and her bottom lip quivered. He crossed the room and took her in his arms.
“Don’t believe a word of that letter, Marlena.” He pressed her head to his chest. “You’re the only woman I want.”
She shook her head. “Then why did you leave me in Boston with no explanation?”
He cradled her face so they could look into each other’s eyes. “I needed to find a way to buy out your contract so we could be together. Sarah knew I wanted to marry you. She tried to run me off in Boston, said she’d use the contract against you. Don’t you see? She did this. She forged a letter to split us up.”
If the woman was anywhere near him he would have strangled her on sight.