Indigo Sky (18 page)

Chapter 24

Leila lay on the bed, staring up at the tester, and sucked in a breath. Somehow she’d managed to resist Rork. Every nerve in her body still tingled with desire. Rising, she walked around the room. It was reminiscent of the elegance of her parents’ home. Running her hand along the cream walls, she moved to the furniture and fingered the fine damask, lace, and velvet. She opened an armoire and found shimmering silk gowns of all colors and sizes hung from satin-wrapped hangers. The faint fragrance of those who came before lingered.
Who on earth do these belong to?
Did that revolting captain keep these gowns for women he intended to seduce?

A knock at the door shook her from dark thoughts.

It must be Rork
. “Come in.”

A crewman opened the door. “Ma’am, I am sorry to interrupt you. The Captain sent me to escort you to his cabin.”

“I am not ready. I’m sure Mr. Millburn will be here shortly to accompany me.”

“I’ll wait.”

“I can’t see why you should.” Leila shut the door. She poured water into a porcelain basin and washed her face.
I will not wear one of those dresses. This dress that I have on is fine.
I miss Biddy
.
Oh, bother
. She dragged a brush through her hair, leaving it loose over her bare shoulders. Leaning forward, she examined her image in the mirror. She pinched her cheeks, released a sigh, and opened the door.

The crewman’s face turned red. “M—Ma’am, you’re beautiful.” He gave her his arm.

She ignored it. “We’ll fetch Mr. Millburn on the way.”

“No, ma’am, I believe the captain has taken care of him.”

“Taken care of him?”

“That was all the captain said.”

She braced her shoulders.
Now I must confront that captain alone
.

The crewman knocked on the captain’s door and bowed. “There you go, ma’am.”

Johnson beamed at her. “Could you be more beautiful? You didn’t avail yourself of the lovely dresses. Why not?”

She raised one eyebrow. “They aren’t mine.”

He took her arm and pulled her into his cabin before she could protest. “I wish you had.”

Shaking his hand off, her mouth tightened. “What on earth for?”

He shrugged, took her arm again, and led her to a couch.

“Unhand me.” Leila pulled from his grasp, setting distance between them. “I assume Mr. Millburn is coming shortly.”

“I expect he’s on his way.” He handed her a glass of champagne.

Leila glanced at a table set with porcelain and crystal. It was only set for two. Her heart sank. Dim candlelight created long shadows across the wood flooring. Platters of hors d’oeuvres and canapés adorned a sideboard. She moved farther away from him. “Captain, tell me about your steamer.”

“We serve in the war effort.” He took a canapé and moved closer to Leila.

She turned away.
I don’t trust this sneak.
She had to get out.

Loud banging on the door interrupted them.

Johnson spun around, choking on a shrimp. He wiped his mouth with a napkin and opened the door. “Mr. Millburn, I was told you were sleeping.”

Leila released a breath. “Thank goodness.”

Rork stumbled in, unshaven, his eyes ringed with red. “Sleeping? You mean drugged, you underhanded son of a bitch.”

Johnson stiffened. “I beg your pardon, sir. What are you accusing me of?”

Rork grabbed Johnson’s jacket lapels in one huge fist and lifted him off his feet. “You know damn well what I’m talking about, you slimy little worm.”

Leila grasped Rork’s arm. “No! He isn’t worth going to jail for.”

“You’re right.” Rork threw Johnson on the couch. “Come near this lady again and you’re dead meat!” He took Leila’s hand. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“I know what your game is—you want her!” screamed Johnson. “I’ll ensure her husband hears about this.”

With a growl, Rork turned and bore down on him. “You have no idea what the hell you’re talking about.”

“Rork, no. Please, let’s go.” Leila glared at the disheveled captain cringing on the couch. “For your information, I’m in the process of divorcing my husband.”

Again, Rork took her arm. “No need to explain anything to this prick.”

Leila and Rork stood at the rail as the steamer docked at Kansas City. She drew a deep breath of air laden with the pungent perfume of pine trees and the first snow drifting down in white flurries.

Rork reached out and took Leila’s hand, turned it over, and pressed his lips to her palm.

Electric currents permeated her at the touch of his hot lips and pulsed through her body in a tide of desire. Trembling with need, Leila submitted to the passion as he captured her mouth. She tried to withdraw.

“Don’t pull away, Leila. I need you.”

“Need me? Rork, you can have whatever you want, but it can’t be me—not yet.”

Tight lipped, he released her and ushered her down the gangplank. Crewmen hoisted bags onto the roof of a four-horse carriage. Rork handed Leila into the vehicle. She avoided Rork’s intense eyes. “Please stop looking at me like that.” There was a note of exasperation in her voice.

“You have no idea how I want you,” he whispered.

She sat and stared ahead. “Where will we be residing?”

He sighed. “At a friend’s house. A mansion. It is known as the Alexander Majors Mansion. It isn’t far.”

For the first time, Leila noticed the elaborate trappings of the carriage. “You didn’t tell me we were being picked up.”

“I know the owner. I sent a letter telling him we were on our way to Kansas. At the start of the war, he visited me in my Tenth Street studio to commission me to paint war scenes.” Rork sat opposite Leila. “But when was I to paint? I haven’t been in one place long enough.”

Leila gave him a sidelong glance from under her lashes and murmured, “Why not paint while we’re at your friend’s manor?”

His eyes traveled to her lips, and he smiled. “You’re good for me.”

She looked down. The heat of his gaze thrilled her. At least he appreciated her.

“I doubt there will be time, though.” He squeezed her hand. “I don’t think we need to prolong this visit. We’ll find Hank and move on.”

“We can’t go west until spring. We have nothing but time.”

“You’re right. Perhaps I can get some work done.”

“Before we go, I need my valise. I think it was stowed in the boot.” She alighted from the carriage.

“Stay there, I’ll get it.” Rork jumped out and strode to the back of the carriage, but Leila followed him.

A seaman approached. “Sir, take care on the wharf. The authorities reported that bushwhackers are accosting people.”

Rork tipped his hat. “Thank you, but I can take care of myself and the lady.”

The man chuckled and scanned Rork from head to toe. “I imagine you can.”

Opening the boot, Rork hauled out her valise. “Here we are.”

Shadows flickered near buildings that loomed ominously in the dawn light. Leila drew closer to Rork. “I think we should get out of here.”

Two figures moved behind the carriage.

Leila’s eyes widened.

One of the figures emerged, unshaven, his clothes threadbare. A tall man with a short, fat neck followed him. He hunched over, his hands in the pockets of a Confederate trench coat. The short man leered at them. “Where do you think you is goin’, mate?”

Rork pushed Leila behind him and ripped off his hat, flinging it aside. The man’s fetid breath assailed him. Rork’s lip curled. “It has nothing to do with you where I’m going, you piece of crap.”

The man growled. “Who do you think you’re sayin’ that to, smart ass? No one that don’t meet with me approval steps into me territory.”

“I don’t need your damn approval. Now move aside!”

“Get back on your ship and steam out of here!”

“Like hell. Back off, low life!”

A feral smile exposed tobacco-stained teeth as he pulled out a knife.

Rork’s knee came up and slammed into the man’s crotch.

The knife flew from his hand, and he buckled, clutching his crotch. “You son of bitch!”

“Back off, jerk,” Rork snarled and shoved him.

The taller man lunged forward and grabbed Leila. His arm snapped around her waist, and he pulled her against his chest, holding a knife to her throat. “One move an’ this li’l lady gets the blade.”

Rork held up his hands and backed away. “No harm done, gentlemen.”

The tall one relaxed his hold on Leila.

Leila jabbed her elbow into his ribs. He grunted and doubled over. She spun away and brought her parasol down onto the back of his neck.

Rork chuckled and brought his fist up, sending the man flying. “Well done, Leila.”

“I cannot stand bullies.” Leila scowled and dusted off her skirt and adjusted her bonnet.

Rork strolled to the prostrate men and pulled out his revolver. “You have a choice. I can shoot you both and claim self-defense, or you can take your horses and get your sorry asses out of here.”

“We don’t have any horses.”

“Then you’d better start running.”

Crewmen, standing at the rail of the steamer, clapped and cheered. “It’s about time someone taught them a lesson.”

Eyes riveted to the deserters, Rork fired a shot at their feet. “I said get the hell out.” He pulled the trigger again and dust flew up near them.

“We goin.’” They ran, weaving and jumping as more bullets hit the ground at their feet.

Rork shoved the revolver into his belt and put an arm around Leila. “Are you all right?”

She nodded. “Just a little shaken.”

“You can be on my team anytime.” He brushed his fingertips across her trembling hand.

“Let’s get out of here.” He swept her up in his arms and put her into the carriage.

She giggled. “I can still walk.”

“I know.” He grinned. “But holding you is more my fancy.”

Strolling through the estate gardens, Rork stroked Leila’s hand, as it rested on his arm. “One is almost unaware that a war rages not far from here.”

Leila glanced back at the mansion. “The house is exquisite.”

He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. Her hair gleamed in the dull light. “You should put the hood of your cape on. I don’t want you catching a chill.” He pulled the hood over her head. “I’ll build you a home just like it one day.”

Despite the gray light of early evening, the four tall chimneys and white trim of the house defined its charming character.

Leila chuckled. “I don’t think I want a mansion like this. I appreciate grandiose beauty, but I’m over displays of opulence.”

“My, how you’ve changed.” He tapped her short, straight nose. “I like this new Leila.”

She laughed. “Why, thank you, sir. I’m delighted you approve.”

A buggy passed them on the way to the house. “I didn’t know Alex was expecting guests. He didn’t mention anyone.” His eyes fixed on a figure alighting from the vehicle. Something was familiar about him. The man took a woman’s hand and helped her out. Her red hair curled from beneath an elaborate bonnet.

“What is it?” Leila asked.

“Not sure,” he grunted. With a speed reminiscent of a thoroughbred racer, he ran over the rough road to the carriage. He grabbed the man’s shoulder and spun him around. “Hank, you bastard!”

Hank’s eyes dilated, and he tried to squirm from the iron grasp. “Rork! I thought you were dead.”

“I’m sure you did. You should have hung around after you shot me, you coward.”

“I sent someone to fetch an ambulance.”

“Big man, but that’s crap. Someone else called for help.”

Hank avoided Rork’s intense eyes. “I-I meant to.”

“What the hell were you thinking, shooting me?”

“Mistake—I made a mistake.”

“Shooting someone is more than a mistake. It’s a lifetime error!” Rork wrapped a hand around Hank’s throat and shook him.

Choking, Hank cringed beneath the onslaught of Rork’s rage. “Didn’t you ever make a mistake?” he croaked, clawing at Rork’s hand.

“Of that magnitude? No. You don’t have a shred of decency, Hank. You just turned tail and ran.” Rork flung him to the ground. “You aren’t even worth my anger.”

“Rork, what in the world is going on?” Leila stared at Hank and put both her hands on her cheeks. “You.”

Scrambling to his feet, Hank tried to brush off road dirt and gravel from his suit. He glared at Rork, his lip lifted in a sneer. “Well, well, it didn’t take you long to fill the space my absence left.”

With a growl, Rork bore down on him, hands clenched. “You miserable little snot, who are you to point fingers when you have your whore in tow.”

Sissy huffed and pressed her back to the carriage. “H-how dare you? Hank, punch him or something!” she screeched.

Hank swung his head and gaped at her. “Are you insane, woman? One punch from him and I’m dead. Get into the damn buggy.”

Rork grabbed his arms. “Since you’ve conveniently fallen into my hands, Leila has divorce papers for you to sign. Doesn’t seem that Pinkerton ever found you to have you sign.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You know damn well what I’m talking about.”

“That bastard Pinkerton? I threw him out and burned the papers.”

Rork looked over his shoulder. “Leila, you have an extra set, where are they?”

“I’ll have to fetch them. They’re in my valise.”

He nodded. “Get them. I’ll hold onto this bastard.” Leila ran to the mansion.

Hank lashed out at Rork with his feet. “You’re in love with my wife. You’ve lusted after her since you met her at the Catskill Mountain House.”