Amanda was always writing something. Perhaps she’d left a note, then decided she was too angry to extend even this courtesy and threw it out. Luke reached toward the grate and removed the half-burned sheet, then spread the paper out on the table.
I don’t know what’s happening to me. He’s leaving—I see it in his eyes. Why does that tear at me, make my life seem meaningless? He’s a gunslinger, a cowboy without a name, a drifter. Yet when he holds me, touches me, his hands so rough and gentle at the same time, I lose myself in a hot vortex of desire I never knew existed. Am I better for this knowledge? When the feeling goes on, I think that I am, for everything around me takes on a new brilliance. I see the flowers of the plains—the red geranium, the crimson lupine, the rippling blue green grass—and I see beauty. I look past the undulating field to an endless horizon—blue sky meeting land. I cannot tell where one leaves off and the other begins. I feel as if I could fall into the heavens, become weightless, a creature of spirit instead of flesh. He has given that to me, in the moments when he is gentle and kind.
He held me last night and I could feel his anger. I do not know what I said to inflame him, but his hands burned where they touched me, more than the heated cloths he used to ease my suffering. It doesn’t matter. I want him. My head is filled with the sound of my blood rushing through my veins, my skin is as sensitive as a newborn’s, my mouth is alive, wetly anticipating his kiss. I want to draw him inside me, let him ease the ache he’s created, yet I know I cannot. I
He couldn’t read the rest. Stunned, Luke let the paper crumble between his fingers, the charred ashes returning to what they were meant to be. He felt as if he had peered into the recesses of Amanda’s innermost thoughts, and found them astounding.
That she could write like that…
Passion inflamed every word. And not the rose-colored feeling most Victorian women described, if they did at all. No, Amanda wrote of sexual desire—of physical love between a man and a woman.
He’s leaving. Why does that tear at me?
He closed his eyes. It was all so easy until Amanda came along. Amanda with her owl, her wall of quotations, her strange ocean eyes that would tear the soul out of a gentler man. If he had half a brain, he’d get on the first train and ride out of here. He’d pursue Haskwell on his own, then maybe settle down in the South somewhere, with a sweet belle who was as complex as rice pudding….
It doesn’t matter. I want him.
He could still feel the smooth paper clinging to his fingers, and the soft sensation of ash rubbing against his callouses.
You’re right, Amanda, he thought. It really doesn’t matter. Not now.
Chapter
9
“Oh, it’s you.” Amanda entered the hotel room and closed the door. She gave Luke an icy stare. “I thought you’d be gone by now.”
Luke shook his head. “Not at all. I have no intention of going anywhere. Where have you been? I was beginning to get worried.”
“You were concerned about me?” Amanda gaped at him incredulously. “Why?”
Luke fought the rising irritation he felt. “I was worried because you were gone so long. I believe that’s why you hired me, isn’t it? To protect you?”
“I thought that was over.” Amanda’s nose wrinkled and her eyes widened behind her glasses, revealing her concentration. “You broke our agreement, and you intended to leave. As Carlyle once said—”
“Amanda.” Luke gritted his teeth. “I brought you something. Don’t you want to open it?”
Amanda’s eyes went from the gunslinger to the bed. She noticed for the first time a package wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine. Fingering the parcel, she glanced back at Luke.
“You bought me a present?” When he nodded his head in affirmation, she continued thoughtfully. “I’d like to know why you did this.” She indicated the package. “And why you are here. And why you are looking at me like that.”
The smile Luke returned was one she hadn’t seen in days. It was warm and wonderful, as if he could see right inside of her, to all those secrets she kept hidden. Feeling like a trapped hare, Amanda toyed with the string. She had to fight the impulse to run.
“Amanda, Amanda. When are you going to stop this? Open it,” Luke said.
Unable to figure it all out, Amanda decided to think later, without his distracting presence. She turned her attention to the gift, and had to admit that she was dying of curiosity. Slowly unwrapping the twine, she couldn’t hide her delight. No one ever bought her a present. Her parents contributed to her school, saw that she had enough pocket money for books and supplies, but they never thought to give her a gift. Now, with the crude brown paper crackling in her hands, she couldn’t stop herself from shaking or the silly grin from spreading over her face.
It vanished a moment later, replaced by awe as she pulled out a beautiful indigo-blue gown. Beneath the gown was a new corset and chemise. Made of first quality plush, the dress boasted a French-lace collar and cuffs, and pearl buttons that marched down the back like a troop of Yankee soldiers. A bustle gathered in the rear to emphasize a woman’s hips. Amanda touched the material, rubbing the rough lace between her fingers, overwhelmed by the dress and by the man who had given it to her.
“Do you like it?” Luke chuckled. “I looked all over this damned town before I could find what I wanted. Thank God one of the matrons took pity on me and helped me explain to the dressmaker what size you are.”
“But…” Amanda couldn’t take her eyes off the gown. “Don’t such garments take weeks to make?”
“Usually.” Luke agreed, pleased by her reaction. “But in this case, I was lucky. The gown was made for a girl from back east. By the time she actually arrived here, she had gained thirteen pounds and the dress no longer fit.”
“I’m sorry.” Amanda looked up, then smiled foolishly. “I mean, I’m sorry for her. She must have been heartbroken to lose such a pretty dress.” She reverently folded the sleeve, then tucked the garment back inside the wrapping. “Too bad I can’t accept this.”
“What do you mean?” Luke asked, exasperated.
“’A lady can only accept candy and flowers. And those, preferably, from her affianced.'”
“Don’t tell me who said that—”
“Elizabeth Hall, my etiquette instructor.” Amanda smiled. She looked at Luke, and her expression was unguarded—full of warmth and girlish laughter. “Although I often thought some of those rules unfair and pretentious, I suppose it has served some good, putting strict requirements on our mating practices. In this case it serves more as a hindrance.”
“Then you think of presents as foreplay?” Luke couldn’t believe his ears.
“Certainly,” Amanda said, the crispness back in her voice. “I mean, think about it. All other species have mating practices, and they’re not so different than ours. Male birds preen and puff their feathers, then engage in a sexual dance designed to arouse the female of the species. Male cichlids actually enfold the female fish into an embrace, then together they fertilize the eggs. And a male gambusino, a live-bearing fish, splays his fins to get the female’s attention then he inserts his anal fin into the female—”
“I get the idea,” Luke groaned. He tried another approach. “Amanda, the gown is paid for. I’m sure the dressmaker won’t take it back at this point, especially since the original owner had to have another wardrobe constructed. If you really feel that badly about it, we’ll work it out when we get to Texas. Maybe come up with another agreement.”
Amanda’s head lifted slowly, then she stared at him, her eyes unnaturally wide. Luke felt as if he was being dismembered. When she finally spoke, it was as if everything was weighted on his next response.
“Then you’ve decided not to leave.” It was a statement rather than a question.
Swallowing hard, Luke nodded. “I’m sorry for the way I acted last night. You were right. I’ll try not to violate the terms again. However, I didn’t think that meant I couldn’t give you s
omething if I wanted to.”
“No,” Amanda said quickly, overwhelmingly relieved by his words and the truth she saw in his face. “But I think we should work it out when we get to Texas. And I did need another dress.” She played with the material again, as if suddenly realizing it was hers.
“Fine. And I hope that I can have dinner with you tonight. I mean, this will be our last civilized meal for some time, and I hate to eat alone. Do you mind?”
“No, that’s all right.” It was more than all right. For someone who’d spent a lifetime eating alone, his offer meant more than he’d ever know.
“Good. Then why don’t you send for a bath and put that on? I’ve made arrangements with a wagon train and ordered supplies. When you’re ready, you can meet with some of the families we’ll be traveling with, and then we’ll get a bite to eat.”
She nodded, barely aware of his presence. Luke hid a grin as she swept the dress out of the paper wrappings, then held it before the mirror. Stunned, she couldn’t hide her excitement as she saw the woman she could be, with the indigo-blue bringing out all the strange colors in her eyes, and the polished depths of her chestnut hair.
Luke closed the door, then stood in the hallway, more than satisfied with the results of his gift. Amanda needed a little romance in her life.
And he was just the man to provide it.
Amanda pulled on the gown, heedless of the damp moisture that still clung to her body from her bath. Freshly scrubbed, she felt indecently excited as she smoothed the gown over her hips, then tried to close the back. Her corset and chemise had been ruined from riding and the night she’d struggled with Luke, and she was very grateful he’d included new undergarments. Rows of buttons paraded down, from her neck to below her bustle, all of them tiny and hard to fasten. When she finally managed to secure a few of the buttons, she peered into the mirror and saw that they were fastened wrong, and that the material had buckled open.
Darn! Amanda undid the buttons, then, holding the dress together, wondered what to do next. She had no maid, knew no one in this boardinghouse other than Luke, and she really didn’t want to ask him. For tonight, just one night, she wanted to be the lady she’d always read about, written about—genteel, sophisticated, and sure of herself. And an unbuttoned gown was a bad way to start.
A shrill giggle interrupted her thoughts, then she heard a woman’s laughter clearly through the wall. The laughter died to a soft murmur, then Amanda heard the odd sounds of bed ropes squeaking. The noise died as quickly as it started, followed by silence. Shrugging, Amanda walked out into the hallway, hoping to find a chambermaid, or anyone who could help with the dress.
A woman stepped from the room next door. Amanda stared at her curiously as the gaslights enveloped her in a yellow glow, making her reddish hair take on a shimmery effect and igniting her dressy satin gown into a brilliant saffron. The woman paused, seeming as surprised to see Amanda as Amanda was to see her. She ventured a shy smile, then relaxed as Amanda quickly returned it.
“Is something wrong?” The girl spoke in a soft, musical brogue. Her perfume floated around her like a sweet cloud. “It isn’t a fire?” She stared hopefully at Amanda, who shook her head.
“No, nothing like that. I…I just needed help with this dress.” Amanda indicated her open gown, then blushed as the young girl’s smile deepened.
“Well, hell honey, I can do that. Aileen O’Connell was the finest ladies’ maid ever, before Sherman took Atlanta. That’s when I got into this business.” Following Amanda into her room, she began to secure the dress.
“What business?” Amanda stared at the young woman reflected in the glass. Originally, she thought her to be around twenty five years old, but now she appeared much younger—hardly eighteen. The brighter lighting in the room also revealed a sprinkling of freckles across her nose, and the hint of a dimple around her mouth. Rouge made her rather plain face seem prettier, and her low cut gown emphasized a generous figure for a young girl.
“The business.” Aileen giggled. “You know. I don’t mind. The money’s damned good. And some of the men are nice. Why Jake Fontaine in there reckons to be governor of Texas. Says he’ll take me there, too. Just think—one man, one bed, every other night off. It’ll be heaven.” Aileen sighed as she finished the gown and gave the bow a final pat. “There! What a nice waist you have.”
“Then you’re a prostitute!” Amanda faced the woman, her mouth dropping in surprise.
“A saloon girl, I prefer to call it,” Aileen said slowly. “I know the way you gentlewomen think, so if you don’t mind, I’ll be going now—”
“Oh, but you can’t.” Amanda reached for her bag and quickly got out her notes. “You have to tell me all about it. How did you start? How much do you make? Do the men really pay you just to have sex with them? Are they nice to you, did any of them hurt you…”
“If you ain’t the oddest creature I’d ever met.” Aileen grinned, noticing the strange way Amanda’s eyes looked when she put on her glasses, and the way her hair seemed to have a life all its own, tumbling wildly over her face and shoulders. “Why in the good Lord’s name would you want to know all that?”
“I’m a writer,” Amanda said, as if that explained everything. “And I’d really like to know. I haven’t hurt your feelings or anything, have I?” Anxious now, she placed her papers aside and searched the girl’s face for signs of withdrawal. Finding none, she continued happily. “Seems I always do that, and I don’t mean to. I just really want to know. ‘Knowledge is power.’ Francis Bacon.”
“I don’t take it back, you are an odd bird.” Aileen flounced down on the bed, then eyed Amanda critically. “I’ll tell it to you, if you really mean it. But why are you getting all gussied up? Ain’t nothing for a gentlewoman to do in this town but to embroider and take tea with the ladies.”
“There’s a man. I mean, Luke.” Amanda blushed to the ears. “We’re going to dinner, and just for once I wanted to look as nice as the ladies he’s used to. He’s from the South, too.”
“Oh.” Aileen nodded wisely. “Southern belles, their voices like melting sugar. About as interesting as a stale tea-cake, but I can understand what you’re saying. Mind if I offer a suggestion?”
“Not at all.”
“Your hair’s all wrong—it shouldn’t be falling in your eyes like that. And those glasses have to go. Tell you what. I’ll fix your hair for a price of a whiskey, and answer whatever you want to know. Deal?”
“Deal,” Amanda agreed, scooping up her notes in absolute bliss. By the time they were finished, she’d decided it was well worth the two bits. Her notebook was ten pages full, and as she gazed into the mirror, she stared in astonishment at the woman who looked back.
“Aileen, how can I ever thank you—” Amanda shook the young girl’s hand, more amazed when Aileen laughed loudly.
“Honey, I’ve been needing this whiskey more than I can say. And to tell you the truth,” she plucked shyly at her dress, then glanced up from beneath rusty lashes, “I miss talking to a real lady. You ain’t like the other women, pulling their skirts aside when they see me. No ma’am, you’re a real lady, no matter how many books you’ve read. I’ve been around enough to know.” She gave Amanda’s hair a critical touch, then nodded in approval. “When you go out with your beau tonight, he won’t be able to take his eyes off you. And you remember what I said. No spoiled southern brat can hold a candle to this.”
Amanda felt emotion filling her. No one had ever so openly befriended her before. She had always been the teacher’s pet. Everyone had wanted to copy her work, to sit beside her and benefit from her knowledge, but no one wanted to be friends with her. Instead, they’d made fun of her, put ink in her hair and pine cones on her chair. She returned the young woman’s smile.
“Thank you, Aileen. You know, I used to be afraid of the world. This is the first time I’ve taken a chance, and it’s turning out to be wonderful. I keep pinching myself, wondering how I can be so lucky.” Amanda gave Aesop
a reassuring tap on his cage, then started out the door.
Aileen watched her go, then picked up her lace shawl and followed. It was strange, but she felt protective of the woman she’d just met, and instinctively knew how vulnerable Amanda really was. The world was hardly wonderful.
And no one knew that better than Aileen.
Luke was waiting for Amanda when she descended the stairs. Clad in charcoal-grey trousers, a crisp white shirt and dinner jacket, a stark contrast to his blue-black hair, he looked devastingly handsome. He lounged against the mantle, smiling at something a cowboy said, holding a glassful of smoke-colored liquor. His eyes lifted as Amanda descended the stairs and he froze.
She was absolutely beautiful.
The indigo dress he’d bought her had looked nice in the store, but looked incredible on her. The material fit her slender figure perfectly, accentuating her softly rounded breasts and her womanly hips. The french lace at her throat brought his attention to her face, made his eyes linger there. With her hair pulled back in a charming nest of curls and her dowdy glasses gone, the sharp angles of her cheekbones traced down to a finely shaped nose and a seductive mouth that looked faintly moist. As she approached, he could see that the dark color emphasized her eyes. They seemed like enormous pools of blue and green.
Amanda stood before him, puzzled by his reaction and the way he stared at her. Self-consciously, she smoothed the dress and examined it for Aesop’s feathers. Finding none, she anxiously patted her hair, thinking that it was in disarray, but Aileen had secured each curl with a pin. More confused than ever, she faced up to him and frowned.
“Why are you looking at me like that? Don’t you like the dress? I can go back to the room and change, if you’re not sure. Or maybe it’s the hair—”
“Amanda.” Luke chuckled, drawing her two hands into his own. “You look lovely. Gorgeous. I had no idea that a simple gown or a hairstyle could make such a change. Shall we?” He offered her his arm, and after staring at it for a puzzled moment, she accepted his gesture and allowed him to escort her outside.
Wild Is the Night Page 10