Arizona Caress: She Feels The Heat Of His Hot Embrace

by Bobbi Smith

  Climbing back up on the bed next to her expectant pet, Rori untied the string that bound the parcel and spread her grandfather's few belongings out on the bed before her. There wasn't much, just the few things he'd kept in his saddlebags, and she touched each item with cherishing hands. There was the crested ring he'd always carried with him, but never worn. There was the small portrait of her father with her grandmother when he'd been a small boy. She often asked about her grandmother, but Burr had never had much to say, only that she'd died of the fever when her father had been a small boy. There was the packet of old, now-yellowing letters, too, that Burr had always kept, but never read. Being unable to read herself, Rori had never given them much thought, but right now she longed with all her heart to be able to read them, just to have some contact with her own past.

  "Oh, Grampa . . ." Rori sobbed his name heartbrokenly. "I thought I could do it, but I can't . . . I just can't . . ."

  Clutching all his precious belongings to her breast, she finally gave vent to all the grief she'd carried deep within her. She had managed to distract herself during the trip to Boston by concentrating on becoming the perfect lady for Chance, but now that she'd failed at that, she had nothing left. She wept in mournful agony.

  Agatha had intended to drink a calming cup of tea by herself in the parlor, but the memory of Aurora's strange mood upset her, and she decided to go upstairs to see how she was doing. As she neared her room, she could hear her crying, and the sound tore at her very soul.

  "Aurora?" She called her name softly as she tapped lightly on the door, but Rori was too lost in the depths of her despair to hear her. Concerned about her, Agatha tried the doorknob and, finding it open, let herself in the room.

  "I know you said you wanted to be alone, but . . ." As she entered the room and saw the young girl looking so completely miserable sitting in the middle of the bed with her dog, she almost cried herself. "Aurora . . ."

  Agatha closed the door and went straight to her, sitting down beside her on the bed and taking her in her arms. She held her as a mother would a child, murmuring warm endearments to her and stroking the silk of her hair in a gentling caress.

  "It's all right. Things aren't really that bad. Don't worry, I'm here and I'll do whatever I can to help . . ."

  At long last, Rori quieted, and she was surprised to find that she was clinging to Agatha like a baby. She moved from her embrace and rubbed at the tears that coursed down her cheeks, embarrassed.

  "I'm sorry . . ." Rori mumbled, humiliated at having been caught crying.

  "Sorry? Sorry for what?" Agatha asked, handing her the lace handkerchief she always kept handy.

  "I shouldn't be cryin' . . ." she sniffed as she blew her nose in a most Rori-like gesture.

  "And why not?" Agatha demanded, startling her.

  "Because, because Grampa said . . ." Rori answered, nervously twisting the handkerchief in her hands.

  She patted her hands confidingly. "I know your grampa raised you, but you know, sometimes men don't always know what we women need."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Sometimes crying can help. I don't know why, but it does."

  "It does?" Rori was surprised to hear this. She'd always thought it was a weakness that had to be fought.

  "Absolutely. Sometimes when things just get so terrible, crying is the only way to let it out. I know when my husband died . . ." Agatha's loving expression faltered as she remembered the pain of losing the only man she'd ever loved.

  "Did you cry?" Rori asked with childlike innocence.

  "A lot" Agatha replied honestly, "I did feel better eventually, but it took a while before I was able to get on with my own life. It may not seem likely to you now, but someday you'll be able to think about Burr's death and understand." She saw then that Rori was holding some things close, and she wanted to encourage her to talk about her feelings. "Did these things belong to your grandfather?"

  Rori nodded dumbly as she realized that she was still clutching them to her. "Would you like to see them?"

  "Very much."

  She laid the letters, portrait, and, ring back down on the bed to show Agatha. "This is Grampa's ring, but he didn't wear it much." Rori showed it to her. "This is a picture of my father and my grandmother, and these are some letters Grampa always kept. I don't know why he kept 'em. He never read 'em or anything." Rori did not notice that Agatha was intently studying the ring and the portrait.

  "Aurora . . . may I see the letters?"

  "Sure," she agreed, handing them over. "I've never read 'em, so I don't know what's in 'em."

  "Why didn't you read them?"

  Rori flushed. "I can't. I never learned how."

  "Oh," Agatha replied in surprise, and then she gave her a reassuring smile. "Well, don't worry. That's easily remedied. Would you like me to read these to you?"

  "Would you?" She brightened considerably. She might never have Burr again, but at least hearing about him would help ease the loneliness.

  "Of course. Do you know who these are from?"

  "No."

  "Well, let me see . . ." Agatha took the missives and carefully separated them. She was startled to see the postmarks were from Boston. "Whoever wrote them years ago sent them from here."

  "From Boston?" Rori's eyes widened.

  "Let's see . . .

  'Dear Burton, It has been so long since we've heard from you that we are becoming concerned. We know you were devastated by all that happened, but that's in the past now. Please come home. We miss you and Jack. There is a void in our lives that will never be filled until we have you back in our midst.

  Your loving brother,

  Joseph Prescott'

  Dear God!" Agatha exclaimed. She let her hand that was holding the letter drop to her lap as the shock of what she'd just read became clear to her. Almost mechanically, she picked the letter back up. "What's the date on this?" She scoured the yellowed page for the date, then read it aloud in amazement. "September 9, 1847."

  "What's the matter, Agatha?" Rori asked, concerned by her strange reaction.

  "You say your grandfather went by just the name Burr?"

  "Yes."

  "I see." She hesitated, picking up the ring and the portrait once more.

  "What is it?"

  "I think we may have just discovered something very wonderful, Aurora."

  "What?"

  "I think you may not be the orphan you think you are."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean, the Joseph Prescott who signed this letter is still alive."

  "Joseph Prescott?"

  "He's your great-uncle, child. If I'm right, this ring bears the family crest and will be proof positive of your relationship. I thought the woman in this picture looked familiar, and now I know why. I knew her, not intimately, mind you, but years ago we did move in the same social circle. As I recall, her death was a real tragedy. She had a young son at the time. After the funeral, though, her husband and the boy both disappeared from Boston and never returned."

  "Grampa . . ." Rori breathed in stunned wonder. "My name is Prescott?"

  "I believe so. I think I'll send a message to Joseph requesting a meeting with him in the morning. This should be quite exciting. Joseph and his wife Charlotte were never able to have children, and according to the rumors circulating through the years, it seems they never gave up hope that Burton and his son would come back home."

  "So I might have family after all?"

  "Indeed you might, Aurora, my dear. The Prescotts are very well established here in Boston. This will be wonderful if it's true, but let's not get too excited until we speak with Joseph and Charlotte tomorrow. There may be some problems we don't know about."

  "I understand," Rori said, trying to keep calm as the joy of thinking she might have kin sent a thrill coursing through her.

  "Now, why don't you just get into your nightgown and try to get some sleep? First thing in the morning, we'll see what we can find out. All right?"

&n
bsp; "All right." As Agatha started from the room, Rori called out to her, "Agatha?"

  "Yes, dear?"

  Rori ran to the older woman then and embraced her. She had never had any womanly guidance before except for her occasional talks with Nilakla, and it was a new but wonderful experience for her.

  "Thank you."

  Agatha felt tears burn her eyes. She hugged Rori close and pressed a motherly kiss on her cheek. "You're more than welcome. Now, get some rest. I want you up and bright-eyed in the morning."

  "Yes, ma'am," Rori answered. When Agatha had gone, Rori donned her gown and climbed back into bed with Jakie. She hugged her dog close feeling more alive than she had in ages. She knew it might not be true, but if it was . . .

  Chance entered Rori's thoughts then, and she realized how late it was. She knew he hadn't returned home yet, and she bit her lip to still her inner pain. She had to leave the Broderick house one way or the other, for she couldn't bear the thought of being near Chance, knowing that he loved Bethany. She had planned to leave, to run away if she had to. Now it seemed almost a godsend to discover that she might have relatives right here in Boston.

  "Maybe everything will be all right, Jakie. Maybe it will . . ." she whispered to her sleeping pet as she, too, drifted off.

  The sudden change in Aurora had left Evan totally confused. He'd given her no reason to suspect his motives and so could not understand what had caused her to flee the study. He'd started to follow her when she'd rushed out into the hall, but when he'd seen Mrs. Broderick coming, he'd known it was probably best to make himself scarce since he wasn't a favorite of the Broderick family. Evan returned to the ballroom through a different door and began to mingle with the crowd once again.

  It was only a short time later that he saw Bethany enter the room alone. Curious as to what had happened to all of the Brodericks, he approached her.

  "Where's our guest of honor? I thought you two were inseparable," he asked.

  "I have no idea where he is now. He left a while ago." Bethany answered him brusquely, still hurt and angry over what Chance had told her.

  "Did they all leave together? I haven't seen Aurora lately."

  "No. He didn't leave with his ward," she replied tensely, thinking of Aurora and wondering jealously if he was with her right now.

  Evan heard the bitterness in her tone and wondered at it. "He didn't?"

  "No, he didn't. Why? Are you jealous of him? I saw you squiring his sweet little ward around. Are you afraid he's after Aurora?" Bethany challenged. She'd known him for years and knew pretty well how he thought. Evan never asked a question unless he wanted something.

  "Are you?" he countered sharply.

  "You're far too perceptive, Evan." Her blue eyes narrowed as she studied him.

  "Do you want to talk about it?"

  "I'm not sure there's anything left to talk about. I thought Chance loved me, but he told me tonight that he doesn't."

  "Perfect timing on his part, right in the middle of the party you gave for him," Evan remarked dryly.

  "Wasn't it, though?" Bethany agreed sarcastically.

  "So you think this has something to do with Aurora?"

  "It might. I'm not sure. I just know that I refuse to believe he doesn't harbor some feelings for me. We've meant so much to each other . . ." The fierceness of her bulldog tenacity came to the fore. "I've wanted him for far too long to give up now. I've waited for him for far too long to let him go so easily."

  "But you can't make someone fall in love with you, Bethany," Evan scorned.

  "Maybe, maybe not, but I can certainly try. All I have to do is get rid of the competition."

  "Meaning Aurora."

  "Meaning Aurora."

  "Why don't you leave her to me? I could find her an enjoyable distraction."

  Bethany had to laugh at him. "But she's not rich, Evan."

  "I said she was a distraction. I didn't say I'd marry her. Besides, you may not have the problem you think you do. She made a point of telling me that she didn't care about Broderick that way."

  "She did?" Her spirits were buoyed by the news.

  He nodded.

  "Then maybe I do still have a chance to win him . . ." Her eyes lit up with a spark of hope.

  "Exactly, and I'll be more than glad to keep Aurora occupied so you can continue your pursuit of Broderick."

  "That's quite a sacrifice on your part."

  "I know, but a most enjoyable sacrifice."

  "Well, if you can just get Aurora to fall in love with you, I'll take care of the rest."

  "I wish you luck. Chance is not an easy man to sway once he sets his mind on something."

  "I know," she answered grimly. "I know."

  The sky in the east was just growing lighter as Chance descended from the hired carriage. He paid the driver and then started slowly up the steps to the house. He was drunk and he knew it and he didn't care. The night had been a long one for him as he'd passed it alone, drinking at one of the better saloons near the waterfront. He'd been confused when he had walked away from Bethany, and he'd known he had a lot of thinking to do. He'd bought a bottle of bourbon and had found himself a quiet table away from the crowd where he could sort out his thoughts.

  With each successive tumbler of bourbon, it had become more and more clear to Chance—he loved Rori. The realization had burst upon him like a flare in the night as he'd sat there all by himself in the saloon. Love was this wild, uncontrollable emotion that left him seething at the sight of her in Strickland'a arms. Love was the reason why just being near her destroyed all his finer intentions and left him wanting her more than he'd ever wanted any woman. He loved Rori, and it seemed that he had almost since the first moment they'd met. He had just been too stupid to realize it. They had struck sparks off each other since the beginning, and it looked like they would continue to do so for the rest of their lives. He had grinned to himself at the thought of the rest of their lives, and he'd gotten up from his remote table and left the bar.

  Now, as Chance entered the house, he knew he had to be quiet or face his mother's wrath. It had been bad enough that he'd deserted them at the party the night before, but to come in at dawn slightly drunk would never do. He headed up the staircase taking great care not to make any noise. He paused before Rori's room, wanting to walk right in and tell her that he loved her and tell her that everything was going to be just fine from now on, but he held himself back. He would tell her tomorrow. Tomorrow, everything was going to be wonderful. He was quite pleased with himself as he made it to his own room, and his last thought before he passed out was that he couldn't wait to talk to Rori and tell her that he loved her.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Joseph Prescott's hands were shaking as he read the letter. Though he was nearly seventy years old, he was still as astute as he had ever been. The Brodericks were friends, and he trusted Agatha completely, but he wondered if someone was trying to play upon his sympathies and his bank account. It was known throughout Boston that they'd always hoped Burton and his son Jack would return. Had someone uncovered these letters and was now trying to use them to their advantage after having duped Agatha into helping them?

  "Where did you get this?" Joseph asked in a strangled voice as his wife Charlotte, a tall, stately woman ten years his junior, stood at his side looking on.

  "Is it authentic?"

  "It is," Joseph answered.

  "What about these?" Agatha opened the small package she'd brought with her and handed him the ring and the portrait.

  "Dear God!" he exclaimed, giving his wife a tortured look before leveling a sharp-eyed gaze at Agatha. "They're Burton's. How did you come by them? Do you know where he is? Where Jack is?"

  "Agatha, if you know where they are, please tell us. We've waited so long for some word . . . we've hoped and prayed . . ." Charlotte added, her gentle blue eyes alive with hope and excitement.

  Agatha hated to tell them the bad part of her news, but she knew she had to. "Burton is dead and
so is Jack . . ."

  "No . . ." Joseph mourned. He had always held out hope that someday they would return.

  "How did you find out, Agatha? Where did you get all of these things?" Charlotte wondered as she put a consoling arm about her husband's shoulders.

  "I got Burton's things from his granddaughter."

  "His granddaughter?" They both looked up, their expressions guarded. Their long, loving marriage had regrettably been a childless one, and the thought of a grandchild from Burton's side of the family thrilled them. Still, they had to be cautious.

  "Yes. Jack married an Indian woman named Atallie, and they had a daughter. Her name is Aurora." She quickly explained the tragedy of Atallie and Jack's death, how Burton had raised her, and how Aurora had ultimately come back to Boston with Chance.

  "Her name's Aurora . . ." Joseph repeated slowly as if testing the name. "We'd like to see her . . . to meet her to make sure. We always wanted a family . . ."

  Agatha smiled, more confident now. She'd realized that the reason Aurora had seemed so strangely familiar to her was because her eyes were so much like the Prescotts'. At the time, the connection didn't occur to her, but now it seemed quite evident.

  "Let me get her for you . . ."

  "She's here?"

  "Waiting outside in the hallway. I wanted to make sure you were receptive before bringing her in to meet you. Aurora's had a difficult time of it lately, and I didn't want her to be hurt anymore," Agatha told them with a smile as she turned and went to open the study door to admit Aurora to the room. "Aurora, please come in."

  Rori had been waiting nervously in the main hall of the Prescott mansion since Agatha had disappeared into the study to meet with them. It seemed to be taking forever, and she was growing more and more tense with each passing moment.