Night Hawk (18 page)

Chapter 17

A
groggy Maggie awakened the following morning to a gentle fondness flowing from green eyes.

“Morning,” he said quietly, and brushed a stray lock of hair away from her face. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did, but there was a man in my bed last night who made me do all sorts of naughty things. Luckily for me he fell asleep so I could get some sleep, too.”

Amusement crossed his lips. “I don't remember that part.”

She tenderly stroked his scarred cheek. “Because you were too busy snoring.”

“My apologies, madam.”

“None needed. Neither of us have gotten much rest these past few days. You'd earned it.”

Ian brought her fingertips to his lips. Kissing them affectionately, he thought back on last night. She'd agreed to be his bride, but was she still willing? She hadn't exactly been in control of her faculties while he was proposing. Had he asked her if her name was President Benjamin Harrison, more than likely she would have agreed. It hadn't been a fair way to get the yes that he'd wanted to hear, and now, under the full light of day, his method didn't sit well.

“Something wrong?” she asked.

“Do you still want to marry me?”

For just a moment, Maggie saw something in his eyes she'd never seen before and it gave her pause. She realized he was unsure of her response. Considering how deadly and fearsome he could be, she found that surprising. “Yes. Have you changed your mind?”

“No, but wanted to make sure you didn't feel pressured to say yes.”

For a moment she studied his face. Amused and touched, she shook her head at her magnificent, caring man before saying frankly, “Ian Vance, you are the first and only man to propose marriage to me. Smoke must have kicked you in the head while you were asleep if you think I've changed my mind. You're stuck with me whether you care to be or not.”

His laughter rang out and he pulled her on top of him. They rolled around the bed in mutual joy, and she was so happy she thought she might burst. She looked down into his smiling face and echoed, “Stuck, Mr. Marshal. Forever.”

“Good, because I want to get married today.”

She stilled. “Today?”

“That a problem?”

“A girl wants to be dolled up for her wedding. I don't mean to be fussy, but no woman should have to say I do wearing the same wrinkled clothes she's been traveling in for over a week.”

He slid a warm palm down the bare spine and hips, asking playfully, “What clothes?”

She punched him in the shoulder. “You know what I mean.”

“Then how about I take you shopping?”

She stared down in wonder.

“No?” he asked, tracing a fingertip over her lip.

“Yes!”

He gave her a playful smack on the butt. “Then up with you. We've a ton to do before catching the train to Cheyenne.”

Her voice quieted. “You are so wonderful to me.”

“You make it easy.”

He hugged her tight, she dashed away tears of emotion, and they left the bed to begin the day.

The little boy who ran errands for the lady telegraph operator arrived at Jade's while they were eating breakfast. He looked to be seven or eight years old. His clothes were worn but clean.

“What's your name?” Ian asked, taking the folded note from his small hand.

“Anthony, sir.”

“How old are you?”

“Eight, sir.”

“Thank you for delivering this to me, Anthony.” Ian reached into his pocket and took out a five-dollar gold piece. “Give this to your mother and tell her I said thank you for raising such a prompt and polite young man.”

Anthony looked at the coin in his hand and then back up at Ian. “This is too much, sir.”

“I know, but it's still yours.”

At first it appeared as if Anthony didn't know what to say. Finally a smile widened his features and he beamed. “Thank you, sir.”

“You're welcome.”

After Anthony departed, Ian looked over at Maggie, who said, “That was very nice of you.”

He nodded and read Charlie's response. “My friend will meet us in Cheyenne.”

“What's his name?”

“Charlie, and he's a cantankerous old coot I hope you'll like. We've been friends for years.”

“Then I hope he likes me.”

“I don't think you've anything to worry over.”

Jade entered the room, having returned from her morning errands. She'd been up and gone before sunrise. “I see you found my note about the food?”

“We did,” Ian replied. “Thank you for the breakfast.”

“You're welcome. Any plans for the day before getting on the train to Cheyenne?”

He glanced Maggie's way and she smiled. “We're getting married.”

Her mouth dropped. “Oh my goodness! Congratulations. That's wonderful.”

“I want to take her shopping. What's the best place?”

“A good friend of mine has a place. Her name is Bethany and she's a woman of your race.” Jade gave them the location. “I'm so happy for you two. When will the wedding take place?”

“Hopefully before we board the train.”

“Ah,” she voiced dreamily, “that's so romantic. I wish you much happiness.” She embraced them both with a strong hug. “I have to get back to work. I will see you before you leave Denver?”

Ian nodded.

“Good.”

She hurried off, and Ian pulled Maggie into his side. He kissed her gently. “Ready?”

“For what?” she asked, with a sassy light in her eyes.

“Shopping, you incorrigible woman.”

She gave him a mock pout. “I suppose.”

He laughed and they walked to the door.

T
o be truthful, when Jade said the shop was owned by a woman of color, Maggie had been expecting a small, cramped place with few choices, not the large, airy place she and Ian walked into. There was a slew of readymade dresses, colorful hats, shoes, and other fashionable items beautifully displayed on headless dress forms and smooth glass-topped counters and gleaming wooden tabletops. One of the tables held fancy ruffled bloomers; another, frothy feathered hats that ladies of leisure might wear, and at a price that widened her eyes. While fashionably dressed White women browsed and tried not to stare at her wrinkled and travel-stained shirt and trousers, Maggie told Ian quietly, “The things here are very expensive.”

“And?”

Before she could recommend they find a dress shop with better pricing, a tall, black-skinned woman approached and asked, “May I help you with something? I'm the owner, Bethany Adams.”

Ian said, “Jade recommended we come and see you; my lady needs a new wardrobe.”

Maggie was taken aback by being termed his lady, as if she were a countess or a duchess, but it pleased her immensely.

Bethany asked, “When you say new wardrobe, what do you mean?”

“I mean everything. The train misplaced our luggage and she has nothing to wear.”

Maggie fought to keep surprise from exploding over her face.

Bethany eyed Maggie sympathetically. “I understand. Would you like to take advantage of our bathhouse before we begin trying on things?”

“Bathhouse?” Maggie echoed, trying not to sound excited.

“Yes. I offer many services here. I even have someone who can do your hair if you like.”

“I don't mean to be crass, but how much will this cost?”

Ian said in a reassuring tone, “Don't worry about that. Get yourself gussied up and buy whatever you think you need.”

“But Ian—”

The soft kiss he gave her closed her eyes and ended the discussion. The other ladies in the shop smiled openly.

While Maggie fought through the sensations left by the kiss, he asked the shop owner, “When should I return for her?”

She assessed Maggie critically. “Two hours.”

Maggie wanted to take issue with that, but she knew how ragtag she looked, so she said nothing.

“Then two hours it is. Enjoy yourself, Maggie.”

As he made his exit, both women stared after him, and Bethany asked, “Does he have a brother, honey?”

Maggie laughed. The shop owner laughed, too, and led Maggie to the back of the shop.

Ian's first stop was to buy himself a new set of clothes. Even though he'd kidded with Maggie about their clothes, he'd rather be married in something other than his worn leathers and dirty shirt, too. Not that his present attire would cause any commotion. He was in Denver, after all. The miners who came in and out of town often looked and smelled worse.

He walked into a reputable men's clothing shop where he'd purchased garments before and looked around at what they had to offer. He picked out a gray Western-cut suit and a pair of hand-tooled black boots that would undoubtedly be hell on his feet until he got them broken in, but Maggie was worth the discomfort. He also tried on a few hats, one of which was made in Mexico, according to the smiling salesman, who added that the shiny metal ovals interspersed along the braided black band were high-grade silver.

Ian met the man's eyes coolly. It was a common ploy used by salesmen to separate greenhorns from back East, the local farmhands, and cowboys from their gold. Ian didn't believe the silver claim for a minute, but he added the hat to the rest because he liked the look of it. He handed over the payment and walked out.

Next he went in search of a bathhouse. Because of the city's sprawling size there were plenty to choose from. Some were cleaner than others and more than a few offered feminine companionship for a price. He walked to an establishment he'd used on previous visits and found the interior as clean as he remembered. He paid extra for a private space.

“You want someone to wash your back?” the woman behind the desk asked coyly.

He shook his head.

“I'm real good,” she promised.

By Ian's eye she was more child than woman. She had the thin, emaciated look of someone trying to scratch out a living but was harvesting dust instead. He gave her a nod in parting and walked to the back.

For the price of the bath you also received a bar of soap. For a few cents more you could add a shaving kit, which he had.

While he soaked, he held up the small mirror and shaved. He wondered how Maggie was doing. Her excitement at becoming his wife made him smile. He planned on being the best man and husband to her that he could be. The two years he'd been married to Tilda, he had done his best then as well, but she hadn't cared for being touched and stroked, and he couldn't joke and play with her as he could with Maggie. He knew now that as much as he'd loved Tilda, she'd had no fire. Her beauty and poise had been so captivating that it never occurred to him before they married that there might not be any passion underneath. Once it became clear that there wasn't, he hadn't let that alter his commitment to her, nor the place she held in his heart. On their wedding day, he'd vowed, “Until death do us part.” And death had taken her.

And now he'd been blessed with Maggie. He still found her presence in his life unbelievable. With her Ian would get to put into practice what he'd learned from watching the men around his mother. They knew how to be kind, and what it took to make a woman smile. The earl his mother was mistress to for more than a decade had delighted her with small gifts of chocolate, flowers, and the occasional piece of jewelry. The affair ended when he married a young duchess who supplanted his mother, Colleen, in the earl's bed and heart. His mother's devastation notwithstanding, the earl's tender devotion to her in the early years of their relationship left a lasting impression.

Once he was done with his bath, he dried off, dressed himself in his new clothes, stuffed the old ones in his saddlebag, and left to search out a barber to get a haircut.

M
aggie viewed herself in the full-length mirror and thought she could easily pass for a duchess with her brand-new gown, sleekly styled hair, and fashionable hat. She'd bathed, then soaked in scented water and had her hair done. Every garment she was wearing from her drawers to the gloves on her hands was brand spanking new. She felt like a lady.

Bethany stuck her head in the door of the room Maggie had been using. “That gorgeous man of yours is here.”

Maggie walked out to meet him and was instantly taken aback by how cleaned up he was as well. More important, he looked dumbstruck by her own transformation and the reaction added to what was turning out to be a spectacular day.

“Do you like it?” she asked, turning slowly to give him the full effect of the new green dress and jacket, silky white underblouse, and jaunty green hat with its matching green feather.

He cleared his throat. “You look dazzling.”

She curtsied elegantly. “Thank you.”

“Very beautiful.”

Bethany appeared pleased as well by the results.

“What else did you buy?”

She gestured to the four boxes on the counter.

“That's all?”

“I didn't want to spend you into the poorhouse, Ian. This dress and a few other items were more than enough for me.”

“Maggie.”

Bethany waded in, “I tried to convince her that you'd want her to purchase more, but she stuck to her guns.”

Eyes sparkling with humor, Maggie put her hand on her hip and told the shop owner, “Stay out of this.”

She saw Ian shake his head as if he didn't know what to do with her.

“Okay, madam, you win this round, but next time, remember that I can afford whatever it is you may need. I promise.”

“And I spent quite enough of your hard-earned money, thank you very much.”

Their eyes held, and a smile crossed his golden features. “Sassy woman.”

Her attraction to him rose and blossomed. “Would you want me any other way?”

“No darlin', you're perfect. Sass and all.”

Heat slid between them.