Rebecca Hagan Lee - [Borrowed Brides 02]

by Harvest Moon

  “I don’t frequent this one either. I’m only here to investigate.”

  “That makes two of us.” Lee nodded as one of the saloon girls called out an order, then began filling three heavy mugs with foamy beer.

  “I need to get into that room.” David reemphasized his reason for patronizing the Satin Slipper.

  “There might be a way,” Lee began, “if you don’t mind mingling with the sporting girls. One in particular.”

  David groaned at the prospect. His head ached from the thick cigar smoke, the clash of strong perfume and unwashed bodies, and the yeasty scent of beer and bourbon. David rubbed his fingers across his eyelids while his thumb massaged the throbbing ache in his temple. Lee slapped another shot of whiskey in front of him.

  “Which one?” David was wary. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to mingle, as Lee phrased it, with one of the numerous overpainted, underwashed, overused women in the Satin Slipper unless she was passably clean and reasonably attractive.

  “There she is.” The bartender nodded toward one of the saloon girls.

  David looked up.

  “There. The brunette with the yellow ostrich feathers in her hair. She got Tessa’s room.”

  The girl was attractive despite the abundance of paint and powder, and from where David sat she appeared fairly clean. “Is she one of the…”

  “Uh-huh, and it’ll cost you. Two dollars.” Lee leaned close to David’s ear as he wiped at a nonexistent spot on the bar with a white dish towel. “And I’d advise you make your transaction before Myra comes downstairs, or all hell’s liable to break loose, especially since Myra made her feelings for you pretty clear to everyone this afternoon. I’d hate to see her snatch the poor girl bald-headed.”

  “Don’t remind me of this afternoon.” David shuddered.

  “Just tryin’ to help out an old friend.” Lee raised one dark blond eyebrow at David. “You know the saying, ‘Hell hath no fury…’”

  “All right,” David snapped.

  Lee grinned as he motioned to the saloon girl wearing the bright yellow ostrich feathers in her dark curls.

  The brunette made her way to the bar with a movement that should have dislocated her hips. Several men whooped and hollered at the display of her undulating buttocks. One or two patted her posterior affectionately. She laughed and teased the customers as she squeezed through the crowd around the card tables.

  Lee grinned at her. “Her name’s Charlotte. Rhymes with ‘harlot,’ and believe me, the name fits. The things she can do with her mouth…” Lee broke off. “Or so I’ve heard. Here.” He slid two shot glasses of whiskey across the bar to David just as Charlotte approached.

  David got to his feet, picked up one of the glasses, and handed it to the woman. “May I buy you a drink?”

  “A drink and anything else you like.” She took David’s arm, pressing it against her ample breasts as she murmured in his ear.

  “I like what I see.” David’s voice was a deep, husky rumble as his gaze roamed over her, moving from the top of her brown curls to the tips of her yellow satin slippers, then back up again, lingering on the length of her legs, encased in black fishnet stockings, and the curve of her breasts spilling out above the neckline of the canary satin gown. A silver and black necklace, which looked suspiciously like a rosary, hung around her neck. A silver cross dipped down into the valley between her breasts. David studied the necklace for a moment before settling his gaze on her red-painted lips. The cross was Celtic.

  “I don’t usually go with a gentleman when I’m working the floor.” Charlotte leaned even closer to murmur in David’s ear. He wondered idly how the seams of her dress held together under the unusual stress placed upon them.

  Behind her back, Lee rolled his eyes in disbelief at Charlotte’s blatant lie.

  “Is that so?” David pretended an interest he didn’t feel.

  “That’s right, sugar,” Charlotte confirmed. “But for two dollars, I’ll give you whatever your little ole heart desires.” She took David by the hand and began to lead him toward the stairs.

  Lee slid David’s untouched glass of whiskey down the length of the bar. “Don’t forget this, Mr. Alexander,” Lee called out, his voice full of respectful subservience. “You’ll need it.”

  David swallowed the liquor in one gulp, then slid the glass back down the bar to Lee. “Thanks.” David grimaced as the fiery liquid burned its way to his stomach.

  Lee bit back a smile. “Don’t mention it.” He turned the shot glass upside down over the cork of an unopened bottle of Scots whisky and shoved the bottle toward David. “Enjoy your evening.” He winked meaningfully.

  David Alexander nodded in understanding as he grabbed the bottle and headed toward the stairs with Charlotte leading the way.

  Lee’s gaze followed David and Charlotte the Harlot up the staircase. It promised to be one interesting night for his old friend. Lee shook his head as he picked up the dish towel and began to polish the bar once again.

  * * *

  Tessa held her breath, trying to control her racing pulse. She wished she’d given a little more thought to her hastily improvised plan. The smells of the Satin Slipper brought back a rush of memories. It had been hard enough to sneak up the back stairs without being seen, but then… She peeked around the corner. From her vantage point beneath the stairs she had seen David Alexander at the bar in deep conversation with Liam Kincaid. Not just a casual conversation but a friendly one. They obviously knew each other—well.

  Though she felt a twinge of disappointment, there was a feeling of cynicism as well. She’d been right to suspect David Alexander. He was in league with Liam, a man who’d been her sworn enemy since she’d first seen him. Tessa pressed closer against the wall. For the moment, undetected escape was impossible. She’d just have to wait them out, watch, and see what she could learn.

  Placing her hand in her dress pocket, Tessa felt the slick surface of the envelope she’d just slipped out of the lining of the trunk in her old room. She breathed a quick sigh of relief. Her pictures were safe and back in her possession.

  But her rosary was missing.

  Standing hidden in the shadow of the stairwell, Tessa watched as David Alexander, whisky bottle in hand, escorted one of the girls toward the stairs. Tessa bit back a gasp of outrage when she realized the painted hussy was wearing her silver and onyx rosary as a necklace, the silver filigree cross nestled in the crevice between her generous breasts. Tessa had to keep herself from reaching out and snatching her rosary from around the girl’s neck. She focused her attention on David instead. What was the man up to?

  She waited until she heard their footsteps on the treads above her head, then bolted from her hiding place and followed them up the stairs.

  Lee Kincaid looked up from the bar where he was busy arranging liquor bottles. He caught sight of a flurry of green calico skirts rounding the corner at the top of the stairs reflected in the mirror above the bar. He smiled to himself. The girl had spunk. No doubt about it. Too bad she hated the sight of him. He thought about intervening, then shrugged his shoulders, dismissing the idea. It was better to forget he’d seen her. David would have to handle this on his own.

  Lee finished arranging the liquor bottles, humming a cheerful Irish ditty beneath his breath as he worked.

  Chapter Five

  Tessa eased the door of the room open a crack. Praying it wouldn’t squeak, she glanced inside. It was just as she thought. He was there in her old room, sitting bold as brass on the bed with his back to the door. Hadn’t he learned better than that? Anyone could sneak up from behind. Or was he too busy eyeing the woman’s rear end as she bent to pour him a drink to worry about danger?

  He was every bit as bad as she expected.

  She slipped inside the room, dropped down to her hands and knees, and crawled to the curtained alcove at the foot of the bed. Hidden behind the curtains, Tessa sat on a pile of feminine garments. She studied the assortment of clothing. The frayed lace edge of a ni
ghtgown peeked out from beneath a scarlet satin dress. Tessa recognized the nightgown as one of her own. Lifting the hem of her calico dress, she tucked the undergarment into the waistband of her drawers. She worked quickly, barely daring to breathe for fear of discovery and nearly panicking when her foot caught the edge of a hatbox and scraped it along the wooden floor. Tessa leaned forward, shifting her weight on the pile of clothes as she peered through the break in the curtains.

  “What’s that noise?” Charlotte looked up from her empty glass into David Alexander’s dark brown eyes.

  Tessa froze.

  The rustling sound coming from behind the curtain stopped.

  “Must be a mouse.” David casually leaned forward on the bed, reaching for the whisky bottle on the floor. Looking under the corner of the bed, he caught sight of a bit of green calico. Damn her. He should have known Tessa Roarke couldn’t be trusted to stay where he left her. David picked up the liquor bottle, righted himself, and filled Charlotte’s glass. “Over there.” He gestured toward the dresser. He splashed a drop of whisky into his glass, then set the bottle back on the floor.

  Charlotte giggled as she insinuated herself onto his lap. “I could have sworn the sound came from behind the curtain.”

  Tessa clasped a hand over her mouth, willing her heart to stop pounding.

  “There it is again.” Charlotte moved even closer to David. “I heard it squeak.”

  David pushed himself upright and got off the bed. He took Charlotte by the hand and pulled her to her feet. Nudging the whisky bottle closer to the bed with his foot, David grabbed the top of the blanket and flipped it back. “Then we’d better get under the covers,” he invited. “I’m afraid of mice.”

  Charlotte giggled again. The sound grated on Tessa’s nerves. “A big, strong, handsome man like you? Afraid of a mouse?”

  Afraid of a mouse? Tessa silently mimicked the other woman. He shouldn’t be, she thought uncharitably, when rats like him were so much bigger.

  “I’m afraid of lots of things.” David’s throaty laugh was deeply suggestive.

  I’ll bet, Tessa silently sneered.

  “Really?” Charlotte asked.

  “Uh-huh.” He still held one corner of the blanket. “What do you think I should do about it?”

  “Climb in.” Charlotte stripped off her yellow dress and shoes and crawled into the bed. “And I’ll tell you all the cures I know.” She smiled invitingly. “Don’t forget the whisky.”

  David grabbed the neck of the bottle.

  “Leave the glasses,” Charlotte spoke from beneath the covers. “We won’t need them if we agree to share.”

  Gritting his teeth, David eased into bed beside Charlotte the Harlot and pulled the covers over their heads.

  “Why, sugar, you’ve still got your clothes on,” Charlotte commented.

  “I thought we’d play a game,” David said.

  “What kind of game?”

  “I ask questions and you answer them.” David explained the rules.

  Charlotte looked suspicious. “You ain’t weird or nothing, are you? What happens if I can’t answer them?”

  “Nothing strange. I’ll give you a shot of whisky for each answer.”

  “What do I get if I can’t answer?” She was still suspicious.

  “I get the whisky,” David assured her.

  “Sugar, you do know my weakness,” Charlotte teased, giggling again. “Can I ask some questions of my own?”

  “I don’t see why not,” David answered agreeably.

  “What are we gonna do after the questions and answers?” Charlotte asked.

  David pretended innocence. “What do you have in mind?”

  “I’d like to see what’s under this nice suit you’ve got on.” Charlotte reached for his shirt buttons.

  David held her off. “First the questions and answers, then the other…” He hoped Charlotte would earn enough shots of whisky to forget about the other. He hoped he’d be sober enough to fend off her advances if she didn’t forget, and he hoped Tessa got an earful.

  “Well, let’s get going, sugar,” Charlotte murmured from beneath the covers. “I’m mighty thirsty. Ask me a question.”

  “How long have you worked at the Satin Slipper?”

  “Going on three years. That one was easy. Sugar, pass me the bottle.”

  David obliged.

  Charlotte took a drink. “My turn,” she said, “Now, I’ve got a question for you. A big, handsome man like you has to have needs: why don’t we ever see you upstairs around here?” She ran her hand down his shirt once again.

  David grinned. “The Satin Slipper is full of beautiful women. I couldn’t possibly choose from among all of you.”

  He probably wouldn’t have to, Tessa thought. The women would simply line up beside the bed and wait their turn. There was a rustling under the sheets, then Tessa heard David ask, “Don’t I get a drink?”

  Charlotte giggled again. Tessa gritted her teeth at the sound of it. “Nope, ’cause I’m not at all sure you told the truth, sugar.” That “sugar” grated on Tessa’s nerves along with the giggle.

  “Oh, well,” David teased, “I guess you’ll just have to answer another question. What can you tell me about what happened here last night?”

  “I knew it was too good to be true,” Charlotte whined. “You’re interested in her. Tessa.”

  “I’m just an attorney,” David answered. “Besides, why would I be interested in Tessa Roarke when I have a warm, generous woman like you in my arms?”

  That does it! Tessa nearly bolted from her hiding place before she realized she’d give herself away. She settled back down on the pile of clothes and fumed. Generous was right.

  “Come on, Charlotte, you can tell me,” David cajoled. “What was going on between Tessa and Arnie?”

  “I can’t answer that.” There was an edge to Charlotte’s voice.

  “Can’t you whisper it? Nobody else will hear.” David raised his voice to make sure his words would carry through the thick curtain.

  “I don’t think so.” Charlotte hesitated.

  “Even for a drink?”

  “Well, I don’t guess it’ll hurt to whisper.” She reached for the bottle.

  “Answer first. Just whisper in my ear.”

  She did and David handed her the bottle. “That wasn’t so bad, now was it?”

  “Sugar,” Charlotte answered between gulps of whisky, “the only good thing about this game is you and the whisky. When can we play something else?”

  Tessa waited until the whispered conversation, the rustling of sheets, and the giggles subsided into snores before creeping from her hiding place. According to what she’d heard, the barmaid had drunk a lot before she’d passed out. Tessa wasn’t sure quite how much David had drunk, but he hadn’t seemed to enjoy his game or Charlotte’s favors. She tiptoed to the bed. The snores were louder, deeper. Tessa carefully lifted the blanket. Charlotte lay on her back. Her mouth was open and she was snoring. David lay beside her, his breathing deep, his wide chest rising and falling, rhythmically. Tessa eyed him suspiciously, but he appeared to be asleep.

  Tessa leaned over him, reaching toward Charlotte and the rosary just inches away.

  David moaned in his sleep, moving his head against the pillow. A strand of Charlotte’s dark hair tickled his nose. Tessa grasped the lone lock of hair just as David moved to brush it aside. His fingers met hers, closed around her wrist, and moved her hand aside. Tessa cursed in frustration.

  “Now, now, Charlotte sugar,” David said clearly. “You know ladies shouldn’t curse.”

  Almost as if he were wide awake.

  * * *

  Negotiating the dark stairs leading down the outside of the saloon was hard work. Tessa mumbled to herself as she made her way down them. How dare Myra Brennan give her room and her personal belongings to Charlotte the Harlot? And how dare that…that…lawyer find anything at all attractive about such a woman? Tessa’s anger smoldered as she ran through the da
rk streets back to David Alexander’s law office. The nerve of him. The gall to leave her alone in a strange place while he went to the Satin Slipper for a little fun with Charlotte the harlot. And then to confuse her with that…that…prostitute!

  Unlocking the back door, Tessa lit a lamp and made her way quietly down the hall to check on Coalie. Assured that he still slept soundly on his cot in the storeroom, she tucked a quilt around his thin shoulders and placed a kiss on his cheek. She closed the curtained doorway to the storeroom behind her before entering her own room. She took the envelope out of her pocket, then reached up under her skirt and released the nightgown she’d tucked inside the waistband of her drawers. Clutching the envelope in her hand, Tessa let the flannel nightgown fall to the floor. She opened the envelope and took out the precious photographs.

  Holding the first one close to the lamp, Tessa studied the face. Her brother Eamon smiled back at her. She blinked away tears, before pressing a kiss to the sepia-colored surface. On impulse she removed the other photos. One showed a man in profile, his face half-covered by bushy sideburns and a thick mustache. A series of numbers was written in ink across the bottom of the picture. She knew now that this man was Arnie Mason, but she didn’t know why Eamon had carried a photograph of him in his coat pocket. Tessa slipped the second picture back into the envelope and looked at the third. This one featured a smiling, fair-haired young man dressed in a plaid shirt and stiff denim trousers. Tessa studied the photograph again, although she didn’t need to. She knew what she’d see. She’d examined the picture over and over again since she left Chicago. It was a photograph of Liam Kincaid. A younger Liam, minus the attractive blond mustache he currently sported, but Liam Kincaid all the same. It, too, had been found in her brother’s coat pocket the day he died.

  Afraid to leave the envelope out where it could be found, Tessa went to the cupboard in the main room of the office. She located a small paring knife in the back of one of the drawers. After taking the knife to her bedroom, Tessa cut a slit in the left side of her mattress, under the sheets beneath her pillow, and placed the envelope inside for safekeeping.