Lover's Gold (13 page)

“When I was a little girl, there was a cave-in at Blue Mountain. My friends were trapped. I figured a way to get them out—something I knew that apparently everyone else had forgotten—but I couldn’t find my father, and my mother wouldn’t listen. In the middle of the night, I sneaked out of the house and went into the mine alone. I guess that’s what caused my . . . problem.”

“I’d like to hear about it, if you’d tell me.” For some strange reason the girl’s story struck some chord of remembrance. Why, he could not fathom.

Elaina took a deep, calming breath and related the events leading up to the mine cave-in. Since Morgan worked for Redmond and Dawson, she didn’t mention their part in the tragedy.

“My plan was simple,” she told him, sniffing again. “The boys were trapped on A level. That meant they weren’t in deep, but they were far back. The younger boy and I had built a fort inside an abandoned tunnel on the opposite side of the mountain. I guess the passage was so old nobody remembered it was there, but the boys said they could reach almost any tunnel in the mine through those old shafts.

“My parents used to own the big Victorian house Henry Dawson lives in out at the edge of the mine patch. It wasn’t far from there to the mine. In the daytime I could see the main entrance from my bedroom upstairs. I climbed out the window and down the trellis about midnight. I remember seeing crews working at the main tunnel as I passed, trying to remove enough debris to reach the boys, but I was terrified no one would listen, or worse yet, send me home. So I went around to the backside and entered through the fort. I’d sneaked in there often, but I’d never gone far into the mine until that night.

“When I got into the tunnel, I was so terrified I was sick, but I finally found the cave-in and heard the boys tapping. Luckily the dirt and debris weren’t too deep in that spot, but of course the boys didn’t know that. They dug. I dug. Just before dawn we broke through.” She dabbed at a fresh trickle of tears.

“After we reached safety, everything seemed all right. It wasn’t until later”—her voice dropped to a whisper—“after my father shot himself in the cellar that I began to have nightmares about the rats and the darkness. Once I accidentally locked myself in a closet at the hotel. Ada found me in the same condition you did.”

Morgan exhaled slowly. He did indeed know the story, at least the part about the cave-in. And for some unknown reason he felt guilty about Elaina’s condition. He clenched his jaw, wishing he could understand.

“Does Dawson know about your fears?” he asked, suddenly worried about the power Dawson could wield if he discovered Elaina’s weakness.

“Only Ada . . . and now you.”

“Do me a favor?” he asked, careful to keep his tone light.

“Yes?”

“Keep it that way. And don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.” He touched her cheek with the back of his hand.

“I feel like such a coward.”

“Don’t be silly. You saved your friends’ lives, and I watched you at the town meeting hall. It took a lot of courage for you to give that speech. And remember how brave you were when Lars Kirby held his gun at your head.” She blanched, and he regretted having brought up the incident. “This is something completely different. A lot of people have fears they can’t understand. With some people its snakes or spiders. With you it’s being trapped in the dark. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“You remember the miners’ meeting?” she suddenly asked, eyes wide.

He smiled. “Yes, I guess I do at that.”

She smiled up at him. “I’m glad for you.” Sunlight, red-gold now with the coming dusk, tinged her thick dark hair with the same shade of crimson while casting a warmth over her features. She looks so vulnerable, he thought. Beautiful, yes. Womanly, yes. But, oh, so vulnerable. Moving his hand from the tiny circle of her waist to the thick hair curling down her back, he felt a wave of protectiveness, followed by a surge of desire.

Cupping her chin in his hand, he covered her lips in a gentle kiss, lightly molding his mouth to hers. Her lips were soft and full, her breath warm and flavored with the salty taste of her tears. When his tongue found its way between her teeth, her arms went around his neck, sending a jolt of desire the length of him. With a soft groan, he forced himself to pull away. The hotel was too close, even for a man with his reckless nature.

Elaina let Morgan help her up and brushed the dirt and grass from her pink muslin dress. His kiss had been tender, a promise of gentleness she still had trouble accepting in a tough man like him. She was glad he’d pulled away because she had little desire to break the contact. Memories of their

day at the circus and his light, teasing smile crowded her mind.

Then came the forbidden memories—the feel of his muscular body, his practiced hands, his mouth tasting her breasts. Suddenly she wished she were miles away, still wrapped in his strong arms. He might be a hard man, but there was something good and caring about him. She could sense it. She regretted more than ever her engagement to Chuck Dawson, which would be official on the morrow. If it weren’t for the debt she owed and her need to restore the McAllister name to its rightful status, she’d tell them all to go hang, and find out just what being a woman was all about.

Accepting Morgan’s arm, she let him guide her back to the hotel.

After supper, Dan Morgan reclined on his iron bed, feet propped up, hands behind his head, pondering the events of the afternoon. Clouded images of his past, fleeting thoughts, and unclear remnants had played havoc with his mind all evening. Like fireflies, they danced brightly just outside his grasp. His tender response to the girl this afternoon seemed out of character. He was supposed to be seducing her, doing whatever was necessary to bring her to his bed. Yet he’d been seized by those same deep feelings of protectiveness he’d experienced before.

Elaina desired him, of that he was certain. She wouldn’t be married to Dawson for weeks, and he was sure at some point during that time he’d find the opportunity he was seeking. Why, then, did his conscience prickle him so? He was a gunman, a hired, paid enforcer. His memory had confirmed the truth of the newspaper stories and his presence at the meeting hall. And he could conjure vague remembrances of other women, other nights of passion, with no regrets, no pangs of conscience, so why not this woman? Besides, he’d probably be doing her a favor. She certainly wasn’t attracted to Dawson, and every woman

deserved to experience a little passion at least once in her life.

He crossed his booted feet atop the covers. His conscience be hanged! He’d played the gentleman far too long already. He would take the girl to his bed the first chance he got. He wanted her and she wanted him. That was all that mattered.

Hearing a knock at the door, he pulled his Colt .45 from its holster slung over the chair beside the bed. Holding it behind him, he opened the door a crack. A small, pale tow-headed youth looked up at him with wide green eyes.

“Telegram here for a Mr. Dan Morgan. That you?”

Morgan holstered the gun. “It’s me.” He accepted the envelope, tipped the boy, and got a missing-tooth grin for his trouble; then he closed the door. Breaking the seal, he unfolded the thin ivory paper: “Dan, Have not heard from you in three weeks. Beginning to worry. Please send word of your safety. Your brother, Tommy.”

So he had a brother named Tommy. The name brought memories of the same red-haired boy he’d glimpsed before. Not a son but a brother. Now he could clearly see the boy as a man, or at least close to a man—freckle-faced, tall and lean, his shock of red hair tousled by the breeze. Just one more clue to his rapidly returning identity. The telegram had been sent from California. A town called Napa. The word brought images of a lovely valley nestled between fertile rolling hills.

He pondered the telegram and made a decision, one that had been nudging the back of his mind almost daily: He would end his employment with Redmond and Dawson, at least until his memory returned in full. His mind, and now this wire, had given him enough clues to begin a search.

Pulling a shirt over his bare chest, he left his room and headed toward the telegraph office. He would leave for California the day after tomorrow. He could be in San Francisco in less than two weeks. He’d wire his brother to meet him. His brother could fill in the gaping holes in his past. After that, he would decide what course of action to take. Maybe he’d come back to Keyserville and get the girl. There was a good possibility she’d go with him if he pressed her hard enough.

For reasons he refused to acknowledge, the thought comforted him as he headed into the darkness with long, purposeful strides.

Chapter 9

A
S USUAL,
A
DA’S
big toe was right—a storm was on its way.

Dark clouds with flat gray bottoms rolled and curled in thick columns against the sky while thunder beckoned in the distance. It could turn into quite a gale, Elaina decided, but maybe if they were lucky it would wait another day.

As Chuck Dawson had promised, two boys from the mine came to string colored paper and tack a large glittery sign on one wall that read “Congratulations, Elaina and Chuck.” Lace tablecloths were laid over long wooden tables, and crisp starched napkins were placed in delicate rows. The tiny finger sandwiches, as well as delicate cakes, nuts, and candies were set out, and the punch bowl was filled with a delicious lemonade concoction. A separate punch awaited the menfolk on another table across the room. Elaina could smell the savory aroma of meats and spices as she made a final check and left for her room on the third floor.

She bathed carefully, enjoying the luxury of the lavender scent in her tub. Then she pulled her dark hair to one side, where it curled in long shiny ringlets, and captured it with a lavender ribbon that matched her gown. Ada dashed in just long enough to pull the laces on her corset so snug she could barely breathe, but her waist was a mere handspan, so she thought maybe the discomfort was worth it. She stepped into her petticoats, and secured the soft embroidered material around her waist, then pulled her dress carefully over her head so as not to disturb her curls.

The latest styles were definitely flattering to the feminine figure, she decided as she glanced in the mirror. Her lavender silk dress outlined her hips then fell softly to the floor. A top skirt of an even lighter shade of purple draped across the skirt in front, then swept into soft folds at the back. It was a lovely gown. Henry Dawson had brought it to her all the way from New York as an engagement present, and though she hated to become any more indebted to him than she already was, she could hardly have refused to accept the gift.

Running her fingers over the delicate fabric, she felt utterly feminine. Tonight she would relish the daringly low neckline. She couldn’t wait to see the effect the dress would have on Dan Morgan.

Elaina instantly felt guilty for the thought. Damn her unruly mind! She should be thinking of her fiancé, of how proud he would be of her. She knew he would boast to every man in the room that he’d finally made her his. And many of the women would be envious of her position. The Dawson family wielded considerable wealth and power, and most women found Chuck attractive. She wished for the hundredth time he could arouse the feelings Morgan could.

The thought steeled her resolve.

She would learn to care for him, make him come to care for her. She knew he desired her; the hungry look never left his eyes. Maybe if their marriage started with passion, even if only on his part, she could build it into something more, help them make a life together. She certainly hoped so. Tonight, she vowed, would be her first attempt at really being Chuck Dawson’s girl. Nothing Morgan could do or say would make her feel a thing. She would banish forever any feelings she might once have had for him. After all, he was nothing more than a hired killer. She certainly should be able to resist the charms of a man like that!

Elaina was dabbing a final dot of lilac cologne behind her ear when she heard the knock at her door. Time to go. She felt a small knot of dread as she opened the door, but seeing the satisfied look on Chuck’s face as he appraised her forced the feelings from her mind. She had to admit he looked handsome in his navy blue tailcoat, matching trousers, and crisp white shirt. His usually sallow complexion had taken on a slightly ruddy hue from his work in the strengthening spring sun, giving him a more masculine appearance than usual. His powerful shoulders were outlined by the coat, and she had to tip her head back to meet his dark eyes. A look of triumph seemed reflected in their brooding depths, and she felt her unease surface again.

“You look lovely, my dear,” Chuck said.

“Why, thank you, Chuck.” She accepted his arm, and they swept into the hall. With long, graceful strides, they descended the two flights of stairs to the rooms below.

At the bottom of the staircase Chuck paused. “For you, my dear.” He handed her a tiny blue velvet box, his fingers cool as they brushed against her skin. She popped open the lid. Nestled on a bed of ivory satin, a single large diamond surrounded by blood-red rubies sparkled up at her. The ring was lovely but garish. When Chuck slipped it on her finger, it dwarfed her slim hand.

“Thank you, Chuck. It’s lovely.” She kissed him on the cheek, and he led her into the dining room. The room was filled with guests; everyone, it seemed, who was anyone from miles around was in attendance. She smiled warmly at the people she knew, many of whom had been friends of her father’s, and Chuck introduced her to the others. Henry Dawson joined them, smiling broadly and clapping his son on the back.

“’Bout time you two got together. I was beginnin’ to worry.” Dawson gave Elaina a smile that clearly spoke of the debt she owed him. She still wasn’t certain why he’d been so adamant about her marriage to his son or, for that matter, why Chuck was so determined to go along with his father’s wishes, but that was their business. She had her own reasons for agreeing to the marriage, and she would abide by her word.

“May I offer you some refreshment?” Chuck smiled inanely.