Heaven in My Arms

by Colleen French

  Celeste felt as though she was walking a tightrope. They were talking about dishes, but she could see the way he looked at her. She knew he wasn't just thinking about dishes. He was thinking about her—about her body. About the way he'd like to touch her. He passed her a fork and once again their fingertips brushed, this time bare skin against bare skin. Invisible sparks arced between them.

  Celeste wondered how this man could affect her the way he did. After all the years of men climbing in one side of her bed and out the other, she had thought herself numb of sexual feelings.

  "Fourteen is young to be alone. If you don't mind my asking, where were your father and mother?"

  Fox scowled. "I mind. It's not something I like to think about. Let's just say unavailable."

  She wanted to question him further, to ask about his mother, who even John had been tight-lipped about, but the look in Fox's black eyes warned her that she'd trespassed far enough.

  "Tell me something," Fox said after a moment. "Were you serious when you said you intended to mine John's land?"

  "Completely." The dishes dry, she moved to a safer distance from him, where she couldn't see the flickering light in his eyes. "Your father was positive he was going to get rich off that claim. He just hadn't found the gold before he got sick."

  "I don't mean to offend you, but why would a whore want to become a miner?"

  She didn't flinch. This was the type of behavior she expected out of men. "So she won't have to be a whore for the rest of her life."

  He exhaled as if trying to comprehend. "I don't understand how a woman gets herself into such a position to begin with. What happened to you. Celeste? You obviously come from a good family. You're educated, you cook, you're well read."

  This could have been her opportunity to tell Fox about her father, about Gerald Marble, but it didn't seem the right time. The damage was already done. Fox would never look at her as he had looked at her that night on the swing, so what was the point? "I'd have been an excellent catch for a man like yourself?" she intoned with a taste of his own sarcasm.

  He didn't answer her.

  "Is that what you were going to say?" she prodded.

  He leaned against the sink stand and crossed his arms over his chest. "I suppose it was what I was thinking," he admitted softly. "Seems a waste."

  "You don't know anything about me." Her temper flared as she pointed a finger. "You don't know where I came from or why. You have no right to judge me, Fox MacPhearson."

  He lowered his head to stare at his polished shoes. "No, I don't suppose I do have the right to judge you, or anyone else for that matter."

  She took a deep breath. He had disappointed her again. She'd given him another chance to ask why she had been forced to sell her body, but he hadn't taken the opportunity. "Don't you see? That land, the gold that might sit just below the surface, could be my way out. If I struck gold, I'd never have to set foot in Kate's Dance Hall again."

  He nodded. "There are probably easier ways for a pretty woman like yourself to get out of the business."

  She gave a little laugh. "What? A man?" She looked him straight in the eye. "No, thank you. A man is what got me into this in the first place." She strode toward the kitchen door, her head held high. She wasn't ashamed of herself because she knew she'd had no other choice.

  "Celeste—"

  She ignored his voice that beckoned her back. She sensed that he was struggling with his own demons. "I think the rain's stopped. I'm going to take Silver out. If it's still dry in the morning, we can borrow Kate's wagon and ride out to the claim. Good night."

  Outside Celeste breathed in great gulps of the cool, damp air. The rain clouds had passed and the sky was clear. Stars were just beginning to appear in the black bowl of the sky, piercing its surface with pinpricks of white twinkling light. Celeste sat on a bench in the backyard and drew her wrap tighter around her shoulders. She knew her dress would be damp from the wet bench, but she needed to remain outside a few minutes longer. She needed a reprieve from Fox and her own feelings for him.

  "Can you believe it?" she asked Silver softly. "After all these years, I still haven't learned my lesson."

  The yellow dog looked up from a hole he was digging in the wet soil of one of her flower beds, and cocked his head.

  "You know, the truth about males and their worthlessness," she said.

  The dog whined.

  "Present company excluded."

  He returned to his task in the muddy hole.

  Celeste sighed as she glanced up at the dark house. Only one window was lit, the large wallpapered bathroom that had been John's pride. It had a flush commode, running water, and even a hot-water tank for bathwater.

  A shadow passed on the back wall and Celeste thought she heard the sound of pipes banging as water rushed through them. Fox. He must be taking a bath. She looked away, wondering if he realized he needed to close the frilly white drapes. Not that it mattered. The back of the house faced the mountainside. There was no one but the coyotes to see his bare bottom if he was about to undress.

  She couldn't resist. She glanced in the window. Sure enough, he was disrobing. From her vantage point on the bench, she could see him perfectly through the large, uncurtained window to the left of the back door.

  He slipped out of his pin-striped waistcoat and leaned to hang it on one of the wooden pegs that ran half the length of one wall. His shadow danced on the papered wall behind him.

  Slowly he untied his cravat, staring straight out the window, his gaze unfocused. Though she knew he couldn't see her in the dark, she felt guilty for watching him, but not guilty enough to look away.

  He slipped the white cravat from his neck and reached down to unfasten the tiny buttons of his starched shirt. A V of skin and curly chest hair appeared.

  Celeste moistened her lips. She'd never seen a man disrobe so slowly. The men she knew rarely took off their clothes. Mostly they just dropped their dirty trousers, which was fine with her. John had slept in a red union suit; it wasn't until he was in the last stages of his illness that she ever saw his bare chest, and then he had been embarrassed.

  Silver barked and Celeste glanced up. She knew she probably shouldn't be alone outside in the dark like this. What if Margaret's killer was lurking about?

  Silver barked again as he chased a mole or some other creature that had come out of the hole he was digging.

  "Shhhh!" she warned. "Silver, hush."

  The yellow dog ran around the side of the house, his nose pressed to the ground.

  She glanced back at the window. Either Fox hadn't heard the dog bark, or he paid no mind to the sound. His shirt fell open to bare his broad, planed chest sprinkled with dark hair.

  Celeste exhaled softly, mesmerized as he peeled the shirt off muscular shoulders, slipping it over strong forearms. He undressed so slowly that it seemed like a dance. She knew by the expression on his face that his thoughts were faraway. Where? With the woman he had mentioned? Was he remembering the feel of her skin against his? Her burning kisses?

  Surprised by the wave of jealousy that washed over her, Celeste reminded herself that the woman was dead, for heaven's sake. And it wasn't as if Celeste could have ever competed with her. The woman, whoever she had been, had surely been a lady. Men like Fox and Gerald only become involved with ladies.

  Pushing thoughts of Gerald from her mind, Celeste glanced at the window again. Fox had discarded the white shirt. He lowered his hands to the waist of his pin-striped trousers.

  "You should be ashamed of yourself," she said softly to herself. But she couldn't look away. She just couldn't.

  Fox's fingers found the button of the waistband and unfastened it.

  Celeste held her breath, though why, she couldn't imagine. She'd certainly never been interested before in what lay beyond that button.

  Fox turned away just as he slid the trousers down and Celeste caught a full view of muscular male buttocks. Her breath caught in her throat. His back was broad and planed wit
h muscle, his buttocks firm and powerful. As he walked away from the window toward the porcelain tub, she caught a glimpse of long, lean legs.

  Celeste raised her hands to her lips as he disappeared from view. "Oh," she murmured.

  Something touched her knee and startled her.

  "Silver!" she breathed as the dog pushed his dirty muzzle into the folds of her gown. "You scared me." The dog panted as she patted his head. "Are you ready to go inside, boy? Had enough?" She rose, feeling a little out of breath, and headed for the back door. "Good, because I think I've had quite enough night air as well."

  Sometime in the middle of the night, Celeste stirred and rolled over in her bed. She heard the sound of heavy footsteps in the hallway. Silver lifted his head from her feet and whined. Celeste opened her eyes, unsettled by the sound in the hallway.

  John's dead. It isn't John.

  Then she remembered Fox.

  The footsteps halted directly outside her door. Celeste lay still, now fully awake. What was he doing? Would he dare come into her room?

  Then she heard his footfall again. He walked to the end of the hallway and down the stairs.

  Silver whined again, and Celeste sat up to stroke his smooth head. "It's all right, boy. I guess he's not much of a sleeper, just like Johnny."

  By the light of the moon that spilled through her window she saw the dog stare at her with big, liquid brown eyes. He licked her hand and laid his head down, as if the mention of his old master soothed him.

  Then Celeste heard the sound of the front door opening.

  The dog lifted his head off the bed again.

  "I hear it, too," she said softly. "Strange he would go outside. It must be two or three in the morning." Curious, she climbed out of bed and padded barefoot across the cool floor to the window. The flannel of her high-necked, white sleeping gown brushed her toes as she walked.

  Celeste parted the curtains to look down on Plum Street. The window was locked. She had checked it twice before she went to bed, fearful of the killer.

  A shadow moved from her porch onto the street, cloaked in black. It had to be Fox. She watched until he disappeared into the darkness, headed toward town.

  Celeste let the curtain fall. "What do you think he's doing?" she asked Silver as she climbed back into bed.

  The dog didn't answer.

  Celeste laid her head on the embroidery-edged pillow and stared up at the punched-tin ceilings. "Strange," she said sleepily. She closed her eyes and snuggled under the flannel blanket. "But then, aren't all men?"

  "Good morning." Fox walked into the kitchen.

  "Good morning." Celeste turned from the stove, hoping her embarrassment didn't show in her cheeks. The moment she saw Fox's handsome face, she thought of the sight of his bare chest and buttocks. One seemed to be as aesthetically pleasing to her as the other. Of course he had no way to know she'd been watching him, but she felt guilty and embarrassed just the same. "Coffee?"

  "Please." He was carrying the same book he'd been reading yesterday.

  "I see you're reading about wine." She cracked an egg in a spider skillet.

  "An interest." He set the book on the table and reached past her to pour himself a cup of coffee.

  She smiled dreamily. "Mmmmm. I always thought I'd like to live in a vineyard, walk the rows of grapevines, watch them grow and produce."

  He halted in mid-stride between her and the table, the cup of coffee poised in his hand. "What did you say?"

  She felt self-conscious around him this morning. Sweet heaven, she thought, maybe Sally is right. Maybe I do need to get back to work. This life of domestication is making me lame-brained. "I just said I used to think I'd like to live in a vineyard. Own one," she confessed. The minute the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. Women didn't own vineyards.

  He continued to the table and sat down. "I once thought the same thing," he responded with a wishful tone.

  "Well, why don't you?" She carried the hot pan of eggs to the table and scooped a portion onto each plate. "A wealthy man like yourself, it could be an investment. "She added several strips of fried pork to his plate.

  "You sound like a business woman, yourself." He picked up his fork.

  She returned the skillet to the stove and came back to the table with a cup of coffee for herself. "You have to be in my line of work." She reached for a slice of toasted bread on a serving platter between them.

  He looked at her as if he failed to see the humor of her statement.

  She laughed. "I'm sorry if I make you uncomfortable referring to my occupation, but I live with it every day, and I won't be ashamed of myself or pretend I'm something I'm not," She took a bite of the toast. "Try the eggs. Mrs. Tuttle sent them. She has a whole henhouse full of eggs. I keep trying to pay her for what she sends me, but she refuses. She's a nice woman."

  "Maybe she thinks that if she stays on your good side, you won't service her husband." This time he laughed.

  And Celeste had the good humor to laugh with him. "Joash Tuttle? That's funny. I doubt he even has relations with his own wife." She chuckled again at the mental picture of Joash in his red union suit climbing into bed with Mrs. Tuttle, night-gowned to her ears.

  Fox laughed with her and it made Celeste smile. She'd always preferred female company to male, but Fox was so easy to talk to. To get along with. When he wasn't angry with her, at least.

  "So, shall I borrow Kate's wagon this morning?" Celeste asked. "I think the road should be dry enough to make it to the claim. We can walk around a bit. You can tell me what you see with your educated eye."

  "I'm not saying that I'll be able to come up with any better idea than John had," Fox confessed. "But if you and I are going to be partners, we should work together."

  Partners, is it, now? Celeste thought. But she didn't say anything. Fox was a complicated man.

  There was a knock at the front door and Celeste rose. "Who could that be? Sally and the girls are never up this early."

  It was Ace with a note for her. A telegram. She thanked him with a warm smile and closed the door with a shaky hand. The telegram had to be from Denver.

  She unfolded the sheet of paper from the telegraph office.

  I need you

  stop

  Adam

  She refolded the paper on the crease with a shaky hand. Her stomach was doing flip-flops. Oh, heavens what's wrong? she thought. Is he sick? Hurt?

  "Is everything all right?" Fox appeared in the hall doorway. "Celeste?"

  She looked up from the telegram. "I have to go to Denver."

  "Denver?"

  "Now." She made a dash for the staircase. If she ran, she could catch the nine o'clock train. Otherwise she'd have to wait for the four-thirty the day after tomorrow, or get a stagecoach to Odenburg and catch the train there.

  "Wait a minute," Fox called after her. "We were going out to look at the claim. We should discuss this. Can't it wait?"

  "It can't wait," she called over her shoulder as she took the stair steps two at a time.

  "Celeste! Celeste!" Fox called after her. "Hold on!"

  But Celeste didn't hear another word. All she could think of was Adam, as she turned at the top of the stairs and ran for her bedroom to pack her carpetbag.

  Chapter Seven

  "How she could do that? Just walk out on us?" Brushing the hair that fell annoyingly over his forehead, Fox paced the kitchen.

  Silver sat on his haunches by the stove and watched Fox walk back and forth across the room.

  "Without so much as an explanation." He shook his head. "Damned flighty woman."

  Silver gave a whine, thumped his tail on the floor, and followed Fox's movement with big brown eyes.

  "All right. All right. So she doesn't owe us anything. Me." He touched his chest. "I made it clear I was no longer interested because . . . well, you know."

  The dog stared as if he didn't know.

  "Because she's a . . . she was my father's . . . " Fox paced faster, turning sharpl
y on the imaginary corner. "Women like that, they can't have a . . . they can't . . . " He took a deep breath. "Silver, they just can't love a man and they can't be trusted. Not as far as you can toss them. If anyone knows that, I do."

  The dog panted.

  "But hey, look, just because she left us—you—that doesn't mean you're stuck here. We're stuck here. We could go out to the claim ourselves." Fox halted and looked at the dog. "After all, we don't really need her, do we? We know as much about gold mining as she does."

  The dog loped over and sat down beside Fox, resting his body against Fox's leg. His tongue lolled from his mouth and he looked up in anticipation of the trip abroad.

  "Should I take that as an affirmative?" Fox crouched and scratched the mutt behind his ears. "Tell me something. Why is it that now she's gone, you're my best buddy?"

  The dog whined and rubbed his head under Fox's hand.

  "Were those eggs from breakfast I fed you sufficient bribery?" He rose. "If so, you're cheap, old boy. Which is good, because I'm just about broke now that I gave that cash for the whore's funeral."

  The dog continued to stare, seemingly unimpressed with Fox's generosity.

  "Yeah, just money. I know. Doesn't mean much to either of us these days, does it?" Fox halted in the kitchen doorway for a moment and sighed. "So, you with me or not? Want to go for a ride in Kate's wagon and check out our worthless land?" He patted his leg and the dog leaped up and bounded toward him.

  Hours later Fox rode back down the dusty path he and the dog had followed earlier in the day. He was tired, but felt a strange, floating sense of contentment.

  Fox had easily located the tract of land he and Celeste had inherited. Kate's directions had been good and the dog's instincts had been better. Fox guessed the dog had probably walked the land with John many times.

  As best as Fox could tell, John's land gave no indication of gold beneath its surface, but neither did it deny it. The river ran with fresh, cold water directly through the center of the hilly plot. There were several abandoned mine shafts where John had dug for gold and come up empty-handed. Truthfully, the land looked barren to Fox, at least barren of gold ore.