Wild Is the Night

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Wild Is the Night Page 12

by Colleen Quinn


  Luke stared at her, assessing her virtues. The girl really was attractive, and an obvious expert at her craft. There was no burning intelligence in her eyes, no cold dissection of his faults as if he meant no more than a professor’s frog, no casual dismissal of him as soon as another man arrived. In fact, she was looking at him with open admiration. Normally, he wouldn’t have given a saloon girl a second glance, but tonight, she was proving to be a balm to his wounded self image. He took another drink from the bar, downed the potent whiskey, then offered her a glass.

  “Do you know Shakespeare?” he asked suddenly.

  “Who’s she?” Susie’s nose wrinkled, perplexed. “Is that the new saloon girl? If she’s been trying to muscle in on my territory…”

  Luke chuckled, throwing back his head in delighted, masculine laughter. “Perfect.” He picked up the whiskey bottle, then started for the stairs. “Are you coming?”

  Susie nodded, then scampered from the bar toward the private rooms at the top of the staircase. Pausing to retrieve a key from inside her bodice, she carefully unlocked the door, then stepped inside and turned up the gas.

  It was better than Luke had thought. Wichita had benefitted from the cattle trade in more ways than one, he mused, as he took off his jacket and placed it on the back of a rosewood chair. A fire crackled cheerfully in the grate, throwing ghosts against the walls and floor, while a bottle of good wine cooled in a silver bucket beside the nighttable. The bed was ample, a good sized mattress with a brass headboard, and the sheets were turned down invitingly.

  “Now you just make yourself comfortable, honey.” Susie cooed. “And Susie will be right back.” She disappeared into the dressing room with a giggle, carrying a garment so flimsy it could scarcely be given the name.

  Luke grinned, pouring another whiskey and then slowly began unbuttoning his shirt. The night unfolded outside like a beggar’s blanket and the wind howled, but here it was warm and secure. He had scarcely finished the third button when Susie reappeared, clad in the diaphanous nightgown, looking incredibly lovely. It was then he noticed that the garment was blue. Christ, why did it have to be blue?

  “Here, let me do that.” Brushing his hands aside, she fumbled with the buttons, undoing them one at a time, and pressing sweet kisses to each bare inch of flesh she exposed. Luke’s fingers sank into her hair.

  God, it felt good to be with a real woman again.

  Very good.

  Alone in her room, Amanda let Aesop out of his cage, grateful for his silence and wide, unblinking attention. Slowly, she struggled to loosen the beautiful gown, wanting nothing more than to strip away all vestiges of this evening. When she finally managed to undo all the buttons, she let the dress slip from her body, gently folded the garment, then placed it away inside her carpetbag.

  Aesop watched her quizzically as Amanda straightened. Clad only in a light shift, she took a seat before the mirror, and began to pull out her hair pins. Tears began, and by the time she’d finished and her chestnut-colored hair was tumbling about her like a sable fall, she was crying, unable to stop the flow of emotions fighting inside of her.

  She had done it again, and this time she hadn’t even realized it or meant to. Luke would probably never forgive her. Even if he did, there would always be this embarrassing memory between them. Why was she always so awkward, always saying and doing the wrong thing? Why was everything so effortless for other women, yet not for her. She could do calculus with little more effort than adding up a shopping list; she could remember everything she’d read, not just for days but years. She had a brilliant mind, yet when it came to the man she loved—

  She froze. Aesop instinctively knew something was wrong, and hopped onto the dressing table to affectionately gnaw on her finger. Amanda scarcely noticed. A white-faced woman stared back from the mirror, numb with realization.

  She was falling in love with Luke Parker.

  And she didn’t have the faintest idea of what to do about it. Unable to think clearly without writing, she picked up her journal.

  He is with another woman. I saw the way he looked at her, the way he slipped his arm around her, holding her, just the way he’s held me. Why does that make me miserable?

  I have no claim on him, just as he doesn’t on me. We are traveling companions; he is a hired gun. He can take any woman he wants at any time I have no right to say anything, no right to complain.

  But when I think of him, of them, of him smoothing her hair and telling her she’s pretty, of her sharing the feeling of belonging to him, even for those few short moments, I am overwhelmed with pain.

  Tonight I had one magical night with him. He thought I was pretty; I saw that in his eyes. He bought me a dress, wanted to dine with me, dance with me. It was all going so well until I met those other men. I didn’t know he would get so angry. The truth is, it all went to my head, though I blush to think of it.

  But now I feel terrible. Inside, I am empty and aching, hollow like the dried up trees we passed on the trail. If I never felt so happy before tonight, then I also never hurt so badly.

  This is what it is to love.

  Damned women! Luke turned up the gas, throwing the room into an unromantic light, then began to search around for his clothes.

  “Come on, honey, you don’t really mean to leave.” Susie sat up in bed, her pretty red lips pursed into a pout. “We have all night.”

  “No thanks, I’d better be going.” Luke pulled on his pants, wanting nothing more than to be far away from this warm and elegant room. Frustration ate at him. In spite of Susie’s experience, her encouragement, her erotic ideas and clever hands, all he could think of was Amanda. Amanda looking lovely in the indigo dress. Amanda laughing with the men at the table. Amanda, who even now could be—

  Clutching the sheet to her full breasts, Susie protested. “Just because you couldn’t…I mean, it happens all the time. You aren’t the first cowboy who couldn’t, didn’t—”

  “I’d rather not discuss it, if you don’t mind.” Luke could feel his face getting hot. Christ, he was blushing like a schoolboy.

  “But it’s not uncommon. I mean, if you got a little sleep, wore off some of that whiskey, I’m sure you could—”

  “Susie, I appreciate it. Really. But you’re right—I am tired, and I’ve had too much to drink. I just want to go back to my room. Here.” He tossed her a roll of bills. “Keep the change.”

  Susie tucked the money inside her top dresser drawer, then watched him as he tugged on his boots and pulled on a shirt. He seemed to attack the buttons, as if taking out his anger on them. She made one last attempt.

  “Honey, you’ve already paid. Even if you just want to sleep here, I won’t hold it against you.”

  Luke flinched. “That’s nice of you, but really, I’ve got to go.” He placed a chaste kiss on her forehead, then started toward the door. The last thing that caught his attention was the thin nightgown that Susie had tossed onto the floor.

  Damn! Why did it have to be blue?

  Chapter

  11

  Amanda felt the contrast between the rough muslin of the gown that she slipped over her head, compared with the luxuriant dress she’d worn the previous night. Gazing into the mirror, she was relieved and disappointed to see that the woman she had been was gone, and the old Amanda stared back from the looking glass. Her hair fell wildly about her face, tamed only when she pulled it back into a schoolmarmish bun, and her dowdy dress hid most of her slender figure, emphasizing only her face, her hollow cheeks with their high, square bones, and her swollen, blue-green eyes.

  Pressing a cold cloth to her eyelids to relieve the redness, she thought of Luke last night with the saloon girl. It was an image she couldn’t wipe out, no matter how hard she tried. Pain welled up in her again, and she forced it down. She couldn’t accept what she thought she had felt last night. It was all wrong. It was the dress, the magic of the night, and her loneliness that made her think there was something more to this relationship. After al
l, Luke had spent the night with another woman….

  Amanda removed the towel. The cold cloth had helped a little, so she repeated the process. By the time she had finished, there was no evidence that she’d spent the evening doing anything other than sleeping.

  Satisfied, Amanda picked up Aesop and her carpetbag, the new dress carefully folded and placed inside, then she strode determinedly to the front desk and got the number for Luke’s room. Marching up the steps, she turned the corner, then rapped sharply on door sixteen.

  “I’m coming, Jesus, stop that yammering.” Luke stumbled to the door, flung it open, and stared in disbelief at the fully dressed and proper Miss Edison.

  “Are you ready? We are scheduled to leave early this morning, if you remember correctly,” Amanda said, her voice as crisp as autumn leaves. “We still have to purchase supplies, sign on with the wagon train, pack our belongings, and make the arrangements—”

  “All right, all right, I get it,” Luke said, rubbing his forehead. “Give me a minute. You can wait in here.”

  Amanda entered, taking deep satisfaction in the way Luke looked. His hair was disheveled, and his clothes were a mess, as if he’d slept in them. Black circles enveloped his eyes, and a dark stubble clung to his chin.

  “I am surprised to see that you aren’t ready,” Amanda continued in the same icy voice. “For someone who is normally so punctual—”

  “Amanda.” Luke’s words held a threatening note. “Don’t push me. I have one hell of a hangover, and I’m in no mood to fence with you.”

  “My, that is a pity,” Amanda continued, unable to resist. “Especially since we are going to be going all the way to Texas together. That is, if you haven’t changed your mind again.” Her eyes cut right through him.

  Luke stared her back down, his beautiful blue eyes penetrating, then he slowly began to unbutton his shirt. Inch by inch he exposed his wrists, then his shoulders, then his torso from the waist up. Well-muscled and bronzed, attesting to an out-of-doors life, his body was magnificent. He leaned over the washstand, liberally dousing himself with water, then scrubbing with the cake of strong soap that the housekeeper provided. Droplets of moisture ran down his chin, glistening from his tanned flesh, while his muscles flexed and twisted with his movements.

  “I think I shall be going,” Amanda gulped. Faced with the sight of his obvious masculinity, unclothed and wildly seductive, she felt herself quickly losing ground.

  Luke glared at her. “Stay where you are. I have no desire to go scouting around this damned town, looking for you.”

  Amanda nodded, turning her attention to the window, her eyes fighting to look back at him. When he finished washing, he slipped on a clean shirt, then dipped his comb into the water and slicked back his hair. When he finally approached, he looked even more handsome than he had the night before. Amanda could have hit him.

  “Look at me.” His voice was gentle and Amanda glanced up, her own eyes shielded and suspicious. “Amanda, I want to apologise for what happened last night. It occurred to me that I might have over-reacted—”

  “Might have?”

  “Did.” Luke amended. “I was going to come down to your room last night and talk to you about it, but it seems I drank too much damned whiskey. Guess you were right about that, too.”

  Amanda stared at him in amazement. He looked so charming, so ingratiating, that she had to fight to keep her own anger alive.

  “You see, I never dreamed you’d look as beautiful as you did in that gown, with your hair done up. Seems I got used to thinking of you as my own Amanda. I suppose it happened while we were alone on the trail together. You were lovely last night, and you didn’t deserve the kind of treatment I gave you.”

  “Why did you?” Amanda looked at him speculatively. “Was it because I invited those men to our table? Ashton thought so.”

  “Did he?” Luke smiled thinly. “In a way, I suppose.”

  “I don’t see why,” Amanda continued in the same, analytical tone. “I just thought they seemed lonely and interested in our conversation. Ashton said—”

  “Amanda.” Luke cut her off. “If you say his name one more time, I swear I won’t be responsible for what happens.” Luke took a deep breath, obviously fighting his temper and the headache. “I’m trying to say I’m sorry.”

  Amanda fought the rising swell of tenderness she felt inside of her. He looked so honest, so vulnerable, and so damned appealing, that she had to restrain the impulse to reach out and caress his hard muscled arms that she’d seen naked just a few moments ago. In spite of everything, he seemed to care for her. Her spirits soared.

  “I accept your apology,” she said softly. “And I feel I owe you one. I didn’t realize that inviting Ash—I mean, those men, to our table would upset you….” Amanda’s voice trailed off as she noticed something black and lacy laying on the bed, just behind Luke. It was, unmistakably, a woman’s garter.

  “I know,” Luke said quickly. He gave her a warm wonderful smile, then took up her hands. “Now can we start over? We have a long trip ahead of us.”

  Amanda tore her eyes away from the lace undergarment and gazed at him. For a second, he saw open pain, then the tough mask fell and she was the old Amanda again. Luke had seen a warmer expression on the face of a bluecoat.

  “There is no need to start anything,” Amanda said coldly. “We are merely traveling acquaintances. And as for last night, it is best forgotten. I mean, I suppose it’s natural for you to be jealous.”

  “Jealous!” Luke stared at her incredulously, his smile fading. “What are you talking about?”

  “It’s nothing to be defensive about,” Amanda continued casually. “It happens with all primates. Particularly males. If you’ve ever watched a male dog marking his territory, you know what I mean. But it usually is a mating signal, and I just wish to clarify our relationship.”

  “And what is that?” Luke asked, furious.

  “We have none,” Amanda said abruptly. “Now you’ve kept me waiting long enough. Unless we wish to miss the wagon train all together, I suggest we proceed. Is there something you wish to add?”

  Luke’s fist clenched, and he snatched up his coat, unaware that he’d picked up the garter at the same time. Not trusting himself to speak, he followed her out of the room, Amanda with the cage in one hand, the bag in the other. He kicked shut the door.

  Amanda Edison had ice water in her veins. And he’d had the dousing to prove it.

  “There ain’t no room on the wagon train.” The man Luke had been introduced to as Pop Finnegan spat a wad of tobacco juice into the brass receptacle at the end of the bar, then continued speaking as if there had been no interruption. “Been filled for days. Don’t need no more tag-alongs.”

  Luke glanced outside. There were only six wagons waiting to leave. Luke could see a few men lashing supplies onto the back of the covered wagons, and a small number of women and children preparing the provisions for the long journey ahead.

  “There seems to be plenty of room,” Luke remarked. “Take a look.”

  Pop shoved aside his beer and got to his feet. “I told you there ain’t room, and if I said there ain’t, there ain’t. We’ve got six good, hard-working Christian families, the Reverend Jacob Weaver and his followers. Don’t need no one else.”

  “I’m sure there must be a misunderstanding,” Luke continued reasonably. “We do intend to pay.”

  “I don’t need no damned money. This happens to be a religious group. What we don’t need is this kind of trouble.” The stout little man’s eyes flickered from Luke to Amanda.

  “That is rather short-sighted of you.” Amanda stopped from scribbling her notes and glanced up at the two men. “We are, after all, entering Indian territory.”

  “I know that!” Pop bellowed. Luke glared at Amanda. The eccentric woman was sitting properly at the next table, barely pausing from her endless writing, her hair already coming loose and tumbling down. Aesop rustled in his cage. Amanda petted him with her p
encil, then resumed scratching across the paper in a barely legible scrawl.

  “Then you should be aware that you’ll need all the men you can find,” she continued. “The Longhorns won’t be coming through again until the good weather, which indicates that the Indians are more likely to attack. I believe you know that the Commanches have developed quite a hunger for meat, a desire which currently isn’t being appeased by the stray cattle. Therefore, it stands to reason that you will need all the help you can get.”

  “Yeah, but—” Pop started.

  “And Luke is a gun.” Amanda indicated the gunslinger with the point of her pencil. “I’ve hired him myself. If I understand correctly, the danger from Haskwell is based on supposition, while the danger from the Indians is much more than hypothesis. In which case—”

  “What the hell is she talking about?” Pop glanced back at Luke, who was glaring at the woman before them.

  “Amanda—” Luke began.

  “Luke can help,” Amanda finished, ignoring his interruption. “‘Half our misery from our foibles springs.’ More.”

  Pop glanced from the man to the odd-looking woman. Amanda smiled at him, gave him a searching look through her glasses, then turned back to her work. Pop scratched his head.

  “Who is she?” Pop said reluctantly. He stared appraisingly at Amanda, really looking at her for the first time. The woman had come in with the gunman, carrying a bird cage and a frayed bag that seemed about to pop its seams. She had quietly taken a seat, produced endless sheets of paper from the bag, and proceeded to write, ignoring everything around her. Pop was left with the impression that she was a little “touched.” But as he examined her closely, he saw that her slender figure was apparent in spite of the ink-stained dress, and the Victorian lace did nothing to detract from her soft curves. With those glasses gone and her hair pulled back, she might even be pretty.

  “Amanda?” Luke forced a smile. He stared at the writer, a cool smile coming to his face as she rustled inside the bag. “Amanda happens to be my wife.”

 

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