The Amber Brooch: Time Travel Romance (The Celtic Brooch Book 8)

by Katherine Lowry Logan

  “Don’t you believe Drs. Marsh and Cope’s feud is hurting their cause?” Governor Hunt asked.

  “Their feud has turned into an outright war.”

  Amber’s melodic voice, smooth and warm as a well-aged whisky, breezed from the direction of the fireplace. The realization that she was the focus of the crowd’s attention poured shock through Daniel like a chilled waterfall on bare skin and temporarily froze the breath in his lungs.

  “They seem determined to battle it out in the newspapers and scientific journals,” she said. “But it’s my opinion, their skullduggery has sparked interest in their collections that otherwise wouldn’t be there.”

  Daniel bumped a man’s shoulder with an unrepentant “Pardon me” before elbowing his way toward the fireplace, toward her.

  Amber held court, surrounded by Denver’s upper class. The taffeta beneath her emerald silk moiré skirt rustled when she moved in the figure-hugging gown, drawing the hungry eyes of the men in the room. Drawing his, as no woman ever had.

  Alec captured his square lapels as if he were about to make a political speech and said, “Like the others, I’m more inclined to believe they would achieve more if they combined their skills and resources.”

  She fluttered a hand-painted fan delicately over her décolletage, and the lamplight glinted off its silver casing. “But aren’t you more interested in dinosaurs and prehistoric life because of their intense rivalry and hatred for each other?”

  “If there’s an article in the paper that mentions either of the men,” Colonel Greenwood conceded, “I read it first. You never know if one has shot the other.”

  There was a bark of laughter from Alec, and then a rumble of laughs ran among the other men. Except for Daniel. He wasn’t even slightly amused. Not that the colonel’s comment wasn’t humorous. In fact, it was. But it hit too close to his own murderous thoughts. Although his victim wasn’t one of the scientists. It was the beautiful woman who had every man lusting for her.

  The ache in his gut was like the ache that had batted him about while he sat in the proscenium box at the Tabor Opera House. But it hadn’t been a wrenching ache then. What was the difference?

  It wasn’t one thing. It was him. He was different. In Leadville, he had yet to kiss her, or hold her in his arms, or fall in love.

  “There is a disadvantage,” Amber continued. “They’re digging up bones and announcing new species at a furious rate, and they have little regard that some of the species they’re identifying have already been named.”

  “Are you saying Marsh and Cope have both given the same species different names?” Alec asked.

  “Exactly,” she said.

  There was some general laughter at that.

  Daniel watched her turn with an easy grace, alert to every nuance in the room, as alert as she’d been on stage. Although she had yet to notice him. He would know if she had. Her eyes would brighten, just as they had while she was on stage each time she glanced up at him.

  She was playing to the audience now, and there wasn’t a man in the room who wasn’t enthralled by her charm. He didn’t want other men ogling the creamy skin above her breasts or listening to the sensuous sound of her voice raised in logical and riveting arguments.

  “The first person who discovers a species gets to name it,” she said, “which is fair. But it has resulted in duplication of names. It’ll take scientists a while to straighten it out and give credit where credit is due.”

  “What would you name a dinosaur?” Colonel Lambord asked.

  “How about Amberosaurus or Kellyosaurus? Those are good names.” Her eyes grew wide and bright, and her head bobbed playfully. “Right?” She gestured toward the crowd. “Don’t you agree?”

  “Certainly,” Alec said. “I’ll draft a letter and advise the doctors of those lofty suggestions.”

  A robust cheer followed, and a man offered, “I’ll send a letter, too.”

  Amber pinked high on both cheeks and fanned herself vigorously before bestowing a benign smile on the attentive press of men.

  When the room quieted, the colonel said, “I heard there was a problem in Morrison with both doctors fighting for control.”

  She stopped fanning and pulled the tassel through her fingers, as if counting beads on a rosary. Her eyes took on a deep-in-thought look, or maybe, a deep-into-the future look. It was the same expression she’d had in the stagecoach when she’d stared at the roof lost in thought. Then she blinked, leaving Daniel to wonder if she was scrying, or some such, gaining mystical insights from the patterns of thick cigar smoke rising toward the painted ceiling medallion.

  “Dr. Lakes sent specimens to both Cope and Marsh. But Marsh acted first and sent his field collector Dr. Mudge to secure the spot and get Lakes on his payroll. So the bones coming out of the hogback in Morrison have gone to Yale.”

  “Which one do you think will survive history? Marsh or Cope?” Alec asked.

  She ran her fingers through the fan’s tassel once again. “Dr. Marsh will probably secure his position in history by naming more dinosaurs than any other paleontologist. But Cope will probably name more prehistoric animals,” she added. “And paleontologists yet to be born will make outsized contributions to our knowledge of all these ancient beasts.” Then with a rustle of skirts, she made a slight bow, and picked up her half-empty glass from a nearby table. “And that gentlemen, is my prediction.”

  Daniel was convinced now that she was scrying, but where was her crystal ball?

  Applause erupted. Glasses clinked down on tabletops, chairs scraped across the hardwood floor, and animated voices rose in a murmur. Instead of the crowd disbanding, they formed a line to take her hand and tell her how much they enjoyed her presentation. Two, if Daniel heard correctly, asked her to dinner. One asked to escort her to the theatre, and another to a scientific meeting. He was torn between yanking her out of the room full of fawning men or leaving the room quietly.

  Without waiting to hear her replies, Daniel abruptly left the room to find the nearest bottle of whisky. He was about to pour a healthy portion into a waiting glass when Rick entered the dining room unobtrusively through the servants’ door.

  “I didn’t know you were coming back tonight,” Rick said, joining Daniel at the sideboard. He poured himself a glass of Champagne. “Did you hear our girl? Not only can she sing, but she can make a scholarly presentation and equally woo a crowd.”

  “If those men had heard her sing, half would have proposed on the spot. The other half would have gone home to ask for a divorce.” Daniel fought to keep his tone neutral, suspicion out, but failed at both.

  Rick put a comradely hand on Daniel’s shoulder. “Your jealousy is showing. I wouldn’t let Amber see it.”

  “That room is full of millionaires. Powerful men, not only in Denver but in Colorado. I’m a Pinkerton agent with a ten-year-old son.”

  “Your self-pity is unbecoming. I wouldn’t let Amber see that either.”

  With a scowl, Daniel filled his glass and took a large sip, holding the liquor in his mouth a moment before swallowing hard.

  “Let me tell you something, Mr. Pinkerton Man. Amber doesn’t care about money or position. What was she wearing when you met her? I heard it was jeans and a flannel shirt. She’s happiest when she’s digging in the dirt or cooking some of the best food—especially biscuits—that I’ve ever eaten. So ditch the self-pity and tone down the jealousy. It’s you she’s interested in. Not how much money you have in your pockets.”

  Rick drank his Champagne. “Here’s something else for you to think about.” He tipped his glass toward Daniel. “You have something special that no one else in that room has.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Fearlessness. Not one of those men would know what to do with her. She’d intimidate the hell out of them. Not you, though. She’s a challenge to your heart and your intellect. And if you spend the next sixty years together, she always will be.”

  “What made ye so smart, O’Grady?�
��

  “A loving mother, a devoted father, brothers who always have my back, a sister who’s taught me what women want, and hundreds of lonely desert nights. But there’s a more important question you haven’t asked. What makes me so dumb? That’s harder to answer. But it has to do with ghosts of dead buddies. I can’t get settled until they do.”

  Now it was Daniel’s turn to give Rick a clap on the back. “I understand about ghosts. I was on President Lincoln’s security detail and was with him the night he was assassinated. I’ll never stop reliving the night and wondering what I could have done differently.”

  Rick’s face paled, and he had the pained look of a man who’d been punched without apparent provocation.

  “Take a deep breath. Take a drink.”

  Rick did both. Then after a brief pause, he switched to a different subject, as if the ghosts who haunted them both had temporarily left the room. “You should have heard Olivia’s presentation.”

  “I didn’t know she had an affinity for dinosaurs, too.” Daniel said.

  “She didn’t talk about dinosaurs,” Rick said in a quiet voice. “She wowed the audience with her legal expertise. She was charming, witty, and knowledgeable.”

  “Amber has considerable legal knowledge, too, especially about the situation in the gorge. Why didn’t she participate?”

  “She did. But after the guests discovered she had mining and engineering experience, they weren’t interested in what she had to say about the railroad.”

  “General Palmer’s interested. He wants to meet her. That’s why I’m back.”

  “After the board members report to him, Palmer won’t need to meet her. Between Olivia and Amber, there wasn’t a question without an answer. The girls also cornered Adam Hughes, the board’s attorney, and huddled for almost an hour.”

  “Palmer will study the reports, but he’ll want to question the source.”

  A roar of laughter erupted from the foyer, and Daniel tossed back the entire contents of his glass. “Tell me this… Does Amber have a damn crystal ball?”

  Rick cleared his throat. “If she does, I haven’t seen it. All I know is that she’s intelligent, forward thinking, and extremely perceptive with a creative imagination.” He twirled his Champagne glass in a circle on the top of the sideboard. “There’s this saying: ‘If you can imagine it, you can create it. If you can dream it, you can become it.’ That’s Amber. Loaded to the gills with vision and chutzpah.”

  Daniel cut a slice of roast turkey from the leftovers on the server and ate it with a helping of dressing and potatoes. Between hungry bites he said, “She’s lying to me. What else am I going to uncover?”

  “If she’s lying, it’s not to cover up an illegal activity. She has secrets. We all do, and that includes you. When you can be honest with her, she’ll be honest with you.” Rick set down his glass and straightened a perfectly knotted four-in-hand necktie. “I’m going with Alec to his club.”

  “What about Connor?”

  “He and Olivia are looking for a quiet place to have a private conversation. There’s a misunderstanding that needs straightening. I have faith that my brother will confess his mortal sins, make an act of contrition, and receive absolution.”

  Daniel slanted a suspicious look at Rick. “What about ye and Amber?”

  Rick’s aloof smile thawed, and Daniel wondered what was behind it. “Oh, I have no mortal sins to confess.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Don’t worry. My brother might be ready to shackle himself to a beautiful woman, but not me. Bad timing. Don’t let me stand in your way.” He emptied his Champagne glass and set it down on the sideboard. “Don’t wait too long to make your move.”

  The house emptied quickly, and Rick and Alec left for the Press Club. Daniel took his drink to the library, sat down in front of the fire, and closed his eyes.

  Don’t wait too long to make your move.

  If Daniel let Amber go, leave Denver, would he find her again? He didn’t think so. If he sold his stocks and bonds in the Rio Grande, he could buy a house and make a life with Amber. But if the company won the lawsuit and succeeded in getting the line to Leadville, the value might double.

  When he returned to Caǹon City, he’d talk to General Palmer and explain his situation. Knowing the general, he’d say sell, and that was what Daniel was inclined to do.

  He closed his eyes and let his mind drift.

  The house was still when he woke sometime later. The embers and dimmed gas lamps added to the eeriness of the room. He picked his glass up off the floor where he had dropped it when he fell asleep. There hadn’t been enough liquid left to dampen the carpet. He set the empty glass on the table then stood, stretching his back and shoulders.

  It was this kind of quiet stillness that always took him back to April 1865. He’d helped carry the slain president from Ford’s Theatre to the house across the street, and there he sat vigil for nine hours until the end came. Everyone left with the president’s body and Daniel was there alone, until the ghosts took up residence. He ran from the Petersen House with a keepsake and never looked back.

  Wondering about the time, he flipped open his pocket watch: three o’clock. He tucked it back into his waistcoat pocket while making his way toward the staircase. His nap would probably keep him awake the rest of the night.

  Amber’s door had a sliver of light seeping beneath it. Was she still awake? He walked toward his room with Rick’s haunting words once again echoing in his brain: Don’t wait too long. Grass rarely grew under Daniel’s feet. Why was he letting it grow now? He glanced down at the floor, half expecting to see green blades sprouting from the carpet.

  How many nights had he and Amber bumped into each other in Mrs. Garland’s kitchen, unable to sleep from the sound of squeaky springs coming from the McBain’s bedroom—two, three. Then later, when the bedroom grew quiet and there was no other sound to keep him awake, he’d toss and turn, remembering the scent of roses in her hair, the swish of her night dress swirling at her ankles, a step so light he barely noticed the slapping of her feet on the wooden floor, or the peculiar color on her toes.

  There would be no accidental meeting in Alec’s house. If Daniel wanted to see her, he’d have to knock on her door. It wasn’t at all proper, and Alec would be furious. He’d accuse Daniel of taking advantage of her, and he’d probably be right. It was too late to call on her, and he needed to see his son.

  Inside the bedroom, a single lamp, turned down low, burned unsteadily. The clouds that had rolled in earlier, along with his train had cleared now, allowing a wash of moonlight to creep through the window and bathe a swatch of the room with yellow light. Noah was curled into a ball in his single bed, in the room they shared. Ripley, asleep at the foot, raised her head, glanced at Daniel, then rolled over onto her side. A satisfied hum slipped from Daniel’s lips at the sight of the boy and his dog, and his chest heaved a heavy sigh.

  He kissed his son’s warm forehead. And as he did every night, he said a silent prayer for Noah’s protection. He was humbled by the knowledge that his prayer had been answered. Amber had been sent to protect him.

  Quietly, he crossed over to the washstand and gently touched the cabinet card with Lorna’s image propped up on the shelf below the mirror. He traced the outline of her face and swallowed the thick knot that rose in his throat unbidden. He’d been a widower for five years. A few women had come into his life during his assignments, but none had touched his heart until now. The bed behind him was a lonely place. And if he didn’t act, it would remain so.

  The water he poured into the washbowl was tepid, but lukewarm was better than freezing, and God knew he’d washed up plenty of times in water too cold to drink. He stripped down to his trousers, washed up, and brushed his hair and teeth.

  When his head hit the pillow, his mind wouldn’t turn off. His senses were alive with the memory of Amber’s scent and taste, the sound of her voice, the sway of her hips. If he could bury himself in her on
ce, his obsession would be appeased. As soon as that thought formed, he swatted it away. Once would never be enough.

  Without a purpose in mind, he tossed a clean shirt over his damp hair and left his bedroom. A drink would settle his mind. He ambled down a hallway lit by gaslights set in sconces and paused before a door leaking bright light from underneath.

  A loud meow followed by a thump and Amber’s hushed command, “Come here, Millie.”

  Fists clenched, he forced himself to keep moving. Alec and Rick could be returning soon, and he didn’t want to compromise her.

  The door opened, and Millie ran out, meowing. He picked her up. “Are ye off to chase some mice?”

  Amber stuck her head out. Her paleness worried him, putting him in mind of his late wife lying under quilts, shivering despite the roaring fire. He mentally shook off the grim vision.

  “I didn’t know you were here.”

  He was alarmed by the breathless rasp to her voice. “It’s late. Ye need to sleep.”

  “My brain won’t shut off, and the cat abandoned me. Come in.” She opened the door wide enough for him to pass through. “Have a snifter of brandy.”

  He glimpsed her silhouette in the light from a single gas lamp, casting wavering shadows about the room. The lace and silk bed jacket over a long matching gown clung to her curves, and the sight of her lusciousness caused an immediate stirring in his loins. Her unbound hair, pulled to one side, tumbled past her shoulder and draped over one breast.

  He didn’t expect the naked emotion, painted by the yellow gaslight with such intensity on her face. How many cloudy nights had he traveled that lonely road begging the moon to peek through, so he would see a landmark and know he was almost home.

  However many there had been, he knew now he had seen his last.

  38