Angel in My Arms (13 page)

The dog stared with big, limpid brown eyes.

Fox sighed. He couldn't believe it. He was jealous. He was jealous
that Celeste might be lying in bed with some fat, balding businessman
at this very moment, while Fox sat talking to a dog. The truth, though
hard to admit, was that Fox wanted to be in Celeste's bed.

He wondered what it would be like to stroke her hair, to nuzzle her
breasts, to make her sigh with pleasure. Of course Amber had always
faked her pleasure with Fox. All whores did. Would Celeste be the same,
or could he crack her veneer? He liked to think he could arouse her.
But more importantly, he liked the idea that maybe he could make her
feel—really feel. She had certainly unsettled
him
emotionally.

Fox groaned and lunged out of the chair, letting the newspaper fall.

The dog started.

"Want to go for a walk, boy? I can't stay here. I can't just sit
here and think about her." He walked into the foyer and grabbed a
sturdy coat made of denim that he'd found in his father's armoire. In
the same dresser he'd discovered denim pants and a durable brown shirt.
From under the iron bed he'd retrieved a pair of work boots. They had
all been his father's, and though Fox had never worn such common men's
attire, he liked the feel of it against his skin. He liked the smell of
the washed clothing. Probably because it smelled like
her.

Silver bounded toward the door. "We'll go for a walk and then hit the bed early."

Silver followed him out the door.

"I figure she's got to be back in a few days, but we might as well keep busy while she's gone. Let me go over my plan with you."

Six days after she left Carrington, Celeste returned on the 9:30
a.m. train. It had been a tiring trip with the train passing through
little towns, sometimes stopping to pick up passengers, other times
sitting for hours while coal or supplies were loaded into cars. Still,
Celeste returned calm. Everything was all right in Denver. She'd taken
care of the problem, which turned out to be minor.

As Celeste walked up Plum Street, she wondered what she would find
when she reached home. Would Fox still be there? All week she had tried
to think of nothing but the problem at hand. She'd tried not to
remember the way his hair fell boyishly over his forehead, or the way
he laughed in his rich baritone voice. Mostly she tried hard not to
think about the one kiss they had shared.

But once she had solved the issue in Denver, all she'd been able to
think about was Fox and returning to Carrington to see him. Logic told
her it would be better if he'd returned to San Francisco never to be
heard from again, but she hoped he'd still be here. Even knowing
nothing could exist between them, she liked having him around.

Celeste came into sight of John's house and spotted Fox sitting on
the porch, swinging, the dog beside him. She felt a heat flush her
cheeks at the sight of him. Fox was dressed in his father's denims and
a leather miner's cap. The sturdiness of his attire v/as complimentary
to his own rugged good looks, the clothes as becoming as the
pinstriped suit had been.

"I see you didn't harm each other while I was gone," she called, hoping he couldn't tell how glad she was to see him.

Fox looked up, his face breaking into the most engaging smile she'd
ever seen on a man. His dark eyes crinkled with laughter and her heart
gave a little patter beneath her breast. She didn't understand what was
happening between them, but he seemed to be as happy to see her as she
was to see him.

Silver bounded off the swing and ran down the walk toward her, barking and leaping. Fox rose to take her bag.

"We were beginning to worry about you."

"We?" She untied the wide azure ribbon of her bonnet as she climbed up the porch steps.

Fox looked sheepish. "Silver and I."

"Don't tell me you changed masters again?" She halted on the porch
to pet the dog that bounced up and down around her and nipped at the
hem of her azure taffeta gown.

Silver dropped to his haunches and huffed and chuffed with pleasure as she scratched his back with her blunt fingernails.

"You were gone so long." He swung the carpetbag in his hand, trying
to seem causal. "I was… afraid something might be wrong. You didn't say
why you'd gone."

She gazed up at Fox, not certain if she was flattered by his concern
or disturbed by it. Something had changed between them in her absence.
It was almost as if they had both forgotten who the other was, and they
were on the porch swing for the first time again. Of course Celeste
knew they couldn't go back, not ever. "I didn't tell you where I was
going because I didn't want you to know."

He sighed and pushed back his hair. "I know. I'm sorry. I didn't
mean to pry. I'm just… we're…"—he indicated the dog—"glad to see that
you're all right. With a killer on the loose, you never know," he
finished lamely.

He walked around her and backed toward the door with her leather
satchel still in his hand. "Hungry? I made flapjacks. They're not as
good as yours, but decent. Or tea." He glanced up, as eager to please
as the dog was, "I could make you tea."

She stood and pulled off her bonnet. "I'm not hungry. Just tired."

Fox gestured. "You want to sit on the swing. Rest? It's a beautiful day. Has been all week."

Celeste took a seat on one side of the swing, flattered by his attention, charmed by his awkwardness.

She gave the swing a push with one toe of her black button shoe. "So what did you two do to keep busy all week?"

He set the satchel by the door and joined her on the swing. The dog immediately jumped up and sat between them.

Celeste didn't know who was acting more peculiar, Fox or the dog.
The dog had never sat in the swing with her before. Not even when John
had been alive.

"We… uh, the dog and I, we checked out the claim." Fox said it so
casually that she knew there was more meaning behind his words than he
let on.

"Oh?" She scratched Silver behind his ears. "And?"

Fox pushed Silver off the swing impatiently as the dog turned and
tried to lick his face. "Enough all ready." Fox's eyes met her gaze.
"And…" He gave a noncommittal shrug. "We panned a little in the river.
Didn't find anything, but I think digging is worth a try. We might hit
gold. Who knows?"

Celeste lifted an eyebrow. She didn't know what she expected from
Fox, but this wasn't it. Did he mean they should mine the land
together, as business partners? Would he be willing to do that? Could
she trust him?

But that would mean he would stay,
a little voice whispered in her head.

Celeste halted the swing with her foot.
"We?
When did my
idea of a mining operation become a partnership?" She crossed her arms
over her chest. "I think you've got some explaining to do, Mr.
MacPhearson."

Fox took his time in responding. "I just thought it would be a
decent business venture for us both. You could make the kind of money
you would need to get yourself out of Carrington—"

"And whoring," she offered tartly.

"You could do what you wanted to do, Celeste, whatever that might
be. Set yourself up as a rich widow in California. Open a mercantile
store in Boston. You could do anything you set your mind to."

She pushed the swing with the toes of her boots and they glided
backwards. The warm breeze kissed the dark hair at his temples and sent
it fluttering. His rugged good looks and earnest, dark eyes made it
difficult for her to concentrate on the subject of the claims John had
left her. "I understand the advantages for
me
of making money
off the claims, should I strike gold." She looked straight ahead,
focusing on the painted white rail on the far side of the porch. "My
question is, what's the advantage to you?"

"What advantage does any businessman see in a business proposition, but money?"

She glanced at him. "You want to form a partnership so we can mine the claims together?"

"The land was left to both of us. My understanding is that it can't
be divided, but must be shared. I don't know what the hell John was
thinking when he wrote the will like that, but what's done is done. We
could split the profits straight down the middle." He made a cutting
gesture with one hand. "Fair and square."

"If there are profits," she amended. "But if we don't find gold?"

"We can work the details out later." He rose from the swing and
offered his hand to help her up. His tone was all businesslike, yet
relaxed.

Celeste climbed out of the swing without his assistance, a feeling
of desperation tight in her chest, Suddenly she saw this venture as her
only chance to survive whole. There had to be gold on John's land.
There just had to be.

Her satchel in his hand, he held the front door open for her. "But
if there is no gold, I… I'd just have to return to San Francisco
without the riches."

She passed him in the doorway.
And I'll have to return to whoring,
she thought.
An impossibility.

"Five-card draw, ladies and gents." Celeste dealt the cards with the
ease of a riverboat gambler. "One-eyed jacks and the man with the ax
are wild. Cost you two bits to play."

Coins clinked in the center of the table in Kate's kitchen. It was
Sunday afternoon and the usual gang was gathered. They had been meeting
in Kate's kitchen on Sundays since the first week she'd opened the
dance hall in Carrington six years ago. Back then, the town had been
bustling. Gold had been found at Albert's Fork, and men traveled from
as far as California to try their luck in the little gold-mining town.
Like most gold booms, this one had not lasted long, and Carrington was
soon just another occasional stop on the Colorado L&M Railroad.

Celeste picked up her hand, but did not smile. No one really seemed
to be interested in the game today; they played out of habit. It had
been three weeks since Mealy Margaret's death, but a pall still hung
over the usually jovial poker game.

Celeste glanced over her dog-eared cards to Ace across the table. He
was usually her greatest competition. He was studying his cards; the
tip of his tongue hung out in concentration.

Celeste often wondered what went on in Ace's head. The deaf-mute
spent all of his time around half-dressed women, and yet, to anyone's
knowledge, he'd never had a tumble. He had to be in his early twenties.
Wasn't he attracted to women? Didn't he have the same urges other men
did? Or had his sordid past left him unable to perform?

Rosy threw down her cards. "Fold," she declared as she rose from her
chair. "Say, Joash. You bring some of that cake your wife bakes?"

"Gingerbread on the sideboard. Fresh whipped cream beside it." Joash
sat arrow-straight in the chair beside Celeste, his fanned cards held
tightly in his hand. "I'll take three." He discarded carefully.

Celeste dealt from the top of the deck. "Tell me something, Joash."
She moved on to Kate, who wanted three new cards as well. "Isn't there
something in the Bible that warns against gambling?"