Angel in My Arms (29 page)

Fox helped Celeste to step out of her pantaloons and into the tub.
The warm and cold water swirled at her feet. She started to sit down,
but he stopped her.

"Not yet," he said quietly, a hint of mystery in his voice. "Stand and I'll pour the water over you."

When she looked at him doubtfully, he added, "Just wait, you'll like it."

He filled a small china washbowl with water from the tub and
drizzled it over her breasts. She sighed as the heated water streamed
over her nipples and down her belly. Her nipples puckered in response
to the warm water and cooler air. It felt strange to stand here in
front of him and let him bathe her as she had bathed Adam when he was a
baby. But it was a good strange. It made her feel pampered. Almost
loved.

There was that elusive word again.
That word that floated in her mind. The word she'd sworn she would never associate with a man again.

Fox poured water down her back. He took a cotton washrag and soaped
it with a perfumed bar of soap. With the wet, frothy rag he scrubbed
first her arms, then her neck and breasts, her legs. He asked her to
turn around and he scrubbed her back and buttocks. The rough, wet rag
and slick soap sent shivers of sensation through her body. Every inch
of skin he stroked tingled with warmth.

Covered in a soft film of perfumed soap, she turned at his urging to face him again. "Now the most important part," he murmured.

The small room smelled of perfumed soap, damp clothing, and of him.
She reached out to caress his bare chest with one soapy hand, but he
pushed it down. "Keep your hands to yourself, lady. I'm busy." He
seemed to sense how erotic it was to stand and be touched without being
permitted to touch.

He spread her legs gently with one hand, dipped the rag into the
warm tub water, and bathed the bed of red curls at the apex of her
thighs.

Celeste closed her eyes and moaned softly. The water, the washrag…
his hands felt so good. She was so relaxed, and yet a spark of warmth
glowed in her belly. A spark of desire.

Fox filled the washbowl with clean water and slowly rinsed her off.

"Can I sit down now?" she asked, her eyes closed. Her knees felt pleasantly weak.

He plugged the drain so that fresh water began to fill the tub. "You want to?"

"If I don't, I'm going to fall over."

"Can't have that, can we?"

He took her in his arms and helped her ease into the tub. The water
that ran off her breasts splattered his bare, dirty chest. She laughed
as she sat down, wiping suds off one of his nipples. "Want to join me?"
she asked, feeling sultry.

"In a minute. Now your hair."

Before she could say anything, he poured a washbowl of water over her head.

She laughed and sputtered as the warm water ran in her eyes and ears and mouth.

He dumped another bowl of water over her head.

She pushed back a thick hank of wet hair. "Trying to drown me?"

"Never." Fox dropped to his knees, leaned over the tub, rubbed the bar of soap between his hands, and began to wash her hair.

Celeste closed her eyes again. His fingers felt so good on her
scalp. As he moved his fingers in small circles moving outward, she
sank further in the tub.

Celeste could have laid in the tub with Fox touching her like this
forever. Here she felt insulated from the world. Here there were no
worries about the silver mine or the wealth it would bring or what she
would do with the money. Here she didn't have to worry about where she
would go or if she would take Adam with her. Here there was no murderer
stalking her friends. Here there was just Fox and her and the warmth of
their companionship.

"Ready for a rinse?" he asked too soon.

"Mm hm." She was too comfortable to speak.

Fox poured several bowls of water over her head and then moved away from her.

She opened her eyes to see him disrobing.

"Going to join me?" she asked, catching bubbles of soap that floated by.

"If you can make room."

She smiled at him over the rim of the tub. He had just slipped his dirty denims down his long, muscular legs. He wanted her…

"There will always be room for you here." She leaned back in the
tub. She hadn't meant to say it that way… to make him think she was
looking for anything permanent between them. That she wanted him to
stay forever.

But she did.

As Celeste watched Fox cross the bathroom, she realized she did want
him here in her tub for the rest of their days. Here in her life.

"Slide forward."

She did as he said and he slipped into the tub behind her.

She was glad that John had insisted they order the largest tub he
could find in Denver. How ironic that she would share it with his son.

Celeste sat up for a moment as Fox dipped the washrag in the water
and scrubbed his chest and arms. Then she took the rag from him and
leaned back against his chest. He raised one knee out of the water and
she scrubbed his leg.

As Celeste washed his legs leisurely, she could feel his engorged
member pressed against the bare skin of her lower back. The feel of him
made her warm and tingly there below the water.

"This is the life, Celeste." He leaned back and she rested against
him."Lazing in a tub of perfumed water with a beautiful woman on my
lap."

"Beautiful, smart woman," she corrected.

"Beautiful and smart." He slipped his hands around her waist and
held her against him, his chin resting on her shoulder. "Far more than
any man could ask for." He kissed her earlobe and closed his eyes
again. "Makes a man think he could stay forever."

Celeste's heart gave a little flutter. She didn't know what to say.
Did he mean he wanted to stay? Here with her? She'd tried not to
consider the possibility, because she knew it would never happen. There
was no sense getting her hopes up for what would never be. Yet,
suddenly, there was a spark of hope. These were words straight out of
Fox's mouth, not just her own wishful thoughts.

How wonderful it would be to have a man like Fox for her own. To care for her, pamper her as he did.

Of course the idea brought up a problem Celeste had never considered until this moment.

What about Adam?

Fox walked along the dark street, disoriented. He didn't know
where he was or why he was here. He could smell the stench of the
harbor. It was close. The stinging salt smell of the sea mixed with an
assault of familiar scents; rotting fish, open sewage, vermin.
Somewhere a boat whistle wailed, a long and lonely sound…

He was searching for something… someone. He didn't know who or why. He didn't know how he'd gotten here.

Fox was wearing his good coat, the black wool one with the
ermine collar. He felt the weight of his gold pocket watch hanging on a
fob from his shirtwaist. Why did he still have them? Hadn't he sold
them, along with his silk shirts, the Italian shoes, and German boots?
Hadn't he sold them with the French watercolors and the Egyptian
statues? All sold to pay James's debts.

Fox rubbed his eyes and kept walking. It was foggy tonight. The
darkness was illuminated only by thin light from, the moon and its
reflection off the dirty water. A cat snarled and darted in front of
him, startling him. He nearly tripped over an abandoned wooden crate
with broken slats.

He gave the crate a kick. Damn… Where… where was she?

What was he looking for? Who?

Fox could feel his heart pounding in his chest. His hands were
cold yet sweaty inside his thin leather gloves. He could feel the
dampness of his brow beneath his wool felt bowler hat, the one Amber
had bought him on their last trip to Chicago. He had told her he didn't
need another hat. He had at least two dozen, but she didn't care. She
insisted and he let her buy it.

Amber? Where was Amber? His mind churned as he struggled to remember.

Missing. Gone two days. He had to find her…

"Amber?" he called in a shaky voice. Now that he knew who he was
looking for, panic seized him. He cut into an alley between two wooden
structures that appeared to be stores. A shutter creaked. A rat darted
in front of him, but instead of racing for cover, it scurried directly
in front of him, leading him…

"Amber?" Fox called. He could hear the desperation in his hollow
voice. He remembered now. He had looked everywhere for her. the
saloons, the hotels, even an opium den.

"Amber, are you here?" he called again. He didn't know why he
was so afraid. She'd disappeared before. She'd always turned up. But
this was different. He could feel it in his heart.

He followed the rat. It knew. Fox knew that it knew he was looking for Amber. Beautiful, pitiful Amber.

The rat turned the corner and crept over a twisted gutter pipe.
It perched on a shattered half barrel and twitched its long whiskers.
There was debris everywhere. Surely Amber wasn't here.

Then Fox spotted an elongated shadow. Something was lying on the ground, shrouded in blackness.

Fox hesitated. But he had to look. "Amber," he said, only this
time no sound escaped his lips. He could hear his heavy breathing and
the pounding of his heart in his ears.

As he drew closer the shroud took shape. A woman… a

woman with long dark hair. Asleep? In a dockside alley? No. Dead.

Fox wanted to turn away. He wanted to run. But he couldn't. His
footsteps led him to the dead woman, and he crouched so that he could
lean over her and see her face.

Fox rested one hand on her slender arm. She was cold. "Amber?" he managed. He rolled her over.

There was blood everywhere.

A slit throat. Blood ran in rivers from the pulse of her slender, pale neck.

No. No.

He tried to scream, but no sound came out. He wanted to let go
of the body. Release it. Run. But he was paralyzed by terror. He
couldn't move. He couldn't speak.

Not Amber. It wasn't Amber. Amber was already dead.

It was Celeste.

"No!" Fox screamed, and bolted upright. He covered his ears, shaking his head madly. "No, no, no, not you, too."

"Fox… Fox…" Celeste said. She reached through the darkness to where
he sat upright in her bed, stiff with the fright of a nightmare. "Fox,
wake up. It's just a dream."

He was cold and shivering, yet bathed in clammy perspiration. His
heart was pounding as if it would explode from his chest. His eyes were
wide open, and yet he didn't seem to see her.

She shook him, first gently, then, when he didn't respond, she shook him harder. "Fox!"

"Celeste?" he croaked as if he had crawled a thousand miles through the desert without water. "Celeste?"

"Yes. Yes, it's me. It's all right." She crawled behind him and
wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She hugged him tightly, her bare
breasts pressing against his back. "Shhh," she soothed. "It's all
right. Just a dream."