Silken Dreams (23 page)

“You are an evil, evil man, Ethan McGuire,” she murmured, giggling. Her hands dropped to her bodice and she began to unfasten the hooks at her neck, shoulders, and sides. “Compromising a young, innocent girl.”

Ethan stopped, regarding her with a scaldingly thorough look when she stripped the garment from her shoulders and threw it onto the bank. She could almost feel the touch of his gaze as it slipped from her shoulders to the tatting of her camisole, to the firm mounds of her breasts. “You’re the one taking your clothes off,” he retorted, lifting his eyes, but his voice was slightly husky.

She only smiled. “I am, aren’t I?”

Though she knew he tried not to look again, Ethan’s eyes dipped to trace the soft skin of her shoulders. Once more, he studied the handmade lace edging her camisole, the thrusting mounds of her breasts, the tight shape of her torso, and the small span of her waist within the sturdy black corset she wore.

When his gaze lifted once again to the swells of her breasts, Lettie could barely manage to breathe as she felt them tighten beneath his gaze, thrusting wantonly against the worn fabric of her camisole.

“I’ve told you before that I’m not a girl, Ethan McGuire. I’m a woman.”

He didn’t speak; he merely moved toward her and pulled her to him, crushing her against his chest and covering her mouth with his own. Willingly surrendering to his embrace, her own arms wound about his chest and she lifted herself on tiptoe, nudging her hips against his.

Ethan gasped, wavered.

Too late, they both realized they were balanced upon the slippery bark of the tree. Flailing for something to hold on to, Lettie felt her feet slip and grasped Ethan around the neck, then squealed as they both tumbled sideways into the water.

They emerged, sputtering and laughing, the cool delicious water lapping against their waists as they scrambled to their feet, holding each other for support. Then, without warning, a stillness settled around them when Ethan glanced down at the wet fabric plastered against the curves of Lettie’s breasts.

“Lettie,” he moaned, his hands rubbing up and down her arms.

“Don’t leave me aching this way, Ethan.”

He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth. “You’re making this very difficult.”

“I’m trying to make things easy. Love me.”

His hands curled around her arms and he finally opened his eyes, but he did not meet her gaze. Instead, he stared over her head, an expression crossing his face that warned her he was seeing things better left in the past.

“I wish things could be different, Lettie,” he stated slowly.

“I know.”

His broad hands cupped her shoulders and his thumbs moved in a slow, sweeping motion across the delicate ridges of her collarbone.

“You’re some kind of woman, Lettie.”

Her lips tilted in a sweet smile.
Woman
.

“I wish I deserved you.”

“You do.”

“I can’t be what you want me to be, Lettie.”

“You
are
what I want you to be, Ethan. You’re noble, and strong, and brave. And you’re real.”

He shuddered slightly, then drew her tightly against him and murmured against her nape, “I’m sorry I dragged you into all this.”

“I’m glad.”

He drew back, and one hand lifted to push the wet hair away from her cheek. “I wish I could give you more.”

Very tenderly, she took his hand and laid it upon her breast, then drew close to his body so that she could rest her head upon his chest. “Then give me all you can… and let tomorrow take care of itself.”

He shuddered against her.

“Love me, Ethan McGuire.”

He drew away, then stepped out of her embrace. She shivered in disappointment, thinking she’d said too much, her arms wrapping around her waist and bereft of his warmth.

At the edge of the bank, he stopped.

“Think about it, Lettie.” He turned to pierce her with a dark azure stare. “Think about the consequences and think about the price. Then, if you ask me again … I won’t say no.”

From the trees several yards away, the soft, almost imperceptible rustle of leaves whispered a warning that was never heard. Ned set the heavy sample cases of buttons and lace on the ground and leaned against a tree for a moment to catch his breath. It seemed the valises grew heavier and heavier each day. He’d cool off for a moment at the creek.

Glancing up, Ned felt his heart pound deep within him when he saw the couple a few yards away. Drawing back into the shadows, he watched, barely breathing as Lettie’s arms slipped around the man’s waist. The dark male head was bent, but Ned had no doubts about the man’s identity.

Ethan.

Ned’s fingers curled into the rough bark of the tree, and he fought against the rush of anger and jealousy. Once again, his brother had bested him. Ethan had told Ned he was leaving the country, but he’d apparently stayed to woo Lettie Grey.

A slow burning pain began to eat at his heart. “No,” Ned whispered softly to himself, something crumbling deep inside. “No…”

In order to avoid as much suspicion as possible, “Mrs. Magillicuddy” dressed in her afternoon finery and crept up the back stairs once Lettie had ascertained that no one was using the kitchen. After what Lettie thought would be a safe interval, she also ducked through the back door and headed toward the stairs. However, she’d only taken a few steps before she looked up to find her mother on her way down.

Celeste’s gaze lifted disapprovingly from the muddy toes that peeked beneath Lettie’s skirts to the sodden skirts and then the shoes and stockings Lettie held in her hand. “May I ask where you have been?”

“I went wading.”

Her mother eyed her soaking skirt and dry bodice but merely shook her head and muttered, “Saints preserve us,” before she edged around Lettie’s sodden form and bustled into the kitchen. “Ten minutes,” she called behind her. “Then I’ll need you to help with supper.”

“Yes, Mama.”

More calmly, Lettie climbed the rest of the stairs. Once at the top, she nearly bumped head-on into Natalie Gruber.

Natalie eyed the condition of Lettie’s clothing in the same manner a schoolmarm might eye a disruptive student. “Wading?” she asked, the tone of her voice expressing her doubts about Lettie’s choice of activities.

“Mmm,” Lettie answered noncommittally.

Natalie’s eyes once more slipped from head to toe. “It’s a shame you don’t have the money to do something with your appearance. Still, I suppose there are some men in the world who find that quality… intriguing.”

Lettie clamped her jaw shut to keep from saying something rude.

Giving the younger woman a wide berth, Natalie held her skirts against her body and stepped around her toward the stairs. She’d taken only a few of the steps before she turned and asked, “Do
you
like my hat, Lettie?”

Lettie glanced at the tiny flirtatious bonnet poised on the top of Natalie’s black curls.

“It’s very nice,” she answered, keeping her voice as bland as possible.

“Yes. It is, isn’t it?” Throwing her a quick smile, Natalie turned and descended the steps in a rustle of indigo taffeta and lace. Once in the kitchen, she was stopped by Celeste Grey, who handed her a telegram.

“This just arrived for your husband. Will you see he gets it?”

Natalie took the piece of paper, and, without respect for the fact that her name had not been included on the front, she slit it open and read the contents. A tiny smile tugged at her lips. “Yes, thank you, Mrs. Grey. I’ll see to it that it falls into the… proper hands.”

Within moments, Natalie had ridden through town and tied Silas’s buggy to a tree behind the Mercury Saloon. Then, moving quickly through the back alley, she made her way down the block to the Starlight Hotel.

Waiting until she was sure that no one had followed her, she slipped through one of the side doors and hurried toward the Lilac Suite. Twisting the key in the lock, she stepped into the false twilight caused by the drawn drapes. Regardless of the lack of light, her gaze moved toward the bed, and she smiled.

Sauntering forward, she tossed the telegram toward the man lying within the twisted sheets. Then her hands began the task of ripping her buttons from their holes with unrestrained eagerness. “It was delivered to the boardinghouse, just like you thought.” She pouted. “But if you knew what it contained, why did you make me interrupt our afternoon to retrieve it?”

She watched as he scanned the telegram, then tossed it to the ground.

“I had an errand of my own to run. I thought it best to insure the information I’d been given was correct.” His eyes slipped over her figure. “Even you should know that a good criminal always double checks every contingency. This time it was almost worth having you dress.”

She smiled and dropped the bodice to the floor. “Almost?”

His eyes became hot and intense as he watched her slip the button free to her skirts and petticoats, unbuckle her bustle, then push the layers to the floor.

“Almost.” She could hear his breathing become ragged in the quiet of the room. “You do know how a man likes to see his woman wearing a hat.”

She smiled, moving toward him wearing nothing but the flirtatious hat, corset, and stockings. At the edge of the bed, she lifted one foot and began to roll the silk hosiery down to her ankles. She tossed first one stocking to the floor, then the other, then lifted her hands to the bust of her corset.

“Well? What about Silas?” One by one, she snapped the metal hooks to her corset free. When the garment fell to the ground, she paused and waited for his answer.

He rose from the bed and knelt on the ticking, drawing her close. “It appears he won’t live to see daylight.” His hands lifted to frame her face and his fingers dug into the skin of her cheek ever so slightly. “Tomorrow, I want you to reserve a ticket on the first train to New York. I’ll meet you at the Empire Hotel Sunday at noon in a room reserved for Mr. and Mrs. Smith.”

She chuckled softly. “Mrs. Smith?”

“By the end of the month, you and I will be bound on a steamer for Paris, where we’ll live like royalty.”

Natalie smiled and took a deep breath of self-satisfaction. She liked the sound of that word.
Royalty
. After all she’d suffered in the last five years because of her husband’s stupidity, she deserved to live like a queen.

Her hands slipped around his shoulders and she leaned toward him, forcing him flat upon the mattress. As she ran her fingers through his hair, then down the planes of his chest, she purred in delight. “Does this mean that you have a plan?”

He smiled and slipped the diamond hatpin free, then tossed it and the bonnet to the floor.

“I have a plan.” He gazed up at her, his eyes sparkling with a hidden pleasure. “And when we’re done, everyone will believe that Silas Gruber and the Gentleman Bandit perished at each other’s hands at the Madison City Thrift and Loan.”

Lettie wearily slammed the door to the cellar shut and dragged the rug back into place. Although all of the windows and doors had been thrown open to catch the slightest breeze, there was none to be caught. The night settled about the house like a thick, sultry blanket, making all but the most necessary tasks too insurmountable to even consider attempting.

“Lettie?”

At the deep tone of her brother’s voice, Lettie turned. Jacob stood in the threshold leading into the hall, his hat in his hand.

Lettie felt a pang of concern when she saw the exhausted set to his features. He looked so tired and alone, as if the pressures of his job were almost more than he could bear.

A strained silence seemed to stretch between them, underscoring the fact that the two of them had not parted on the best of terms. Finally, needing to show some semblance of normality, Lettie tried to smile.

“Good evening, Jacob. How have you been?”

He stepped into the kitchen from the hall, idly slapping the brim of his hat against his thigh. When he didn’t speak immediately, Lettie’s smile faded and she murmured, “I think Mama’s upstairs. I can get her for you.”

“No. No, I didn’t come to see her.”

Lettie waited for Jacob to explain why he’d come, but when he still didn’t speak, she asked, “Have you had supper yet? There’s some greens left, and a few potatoes.”

“No.” Jacob lifted his head to regard her with watchful eyes. “I just came to…” He hesitated, stiffened, then continued more forcefully: “Tell me the truth, Lettie: Have you seen Ethan McGuire since that morning in the barn?”

Lettie grew cold, still. Her heart began to pound fiercely in her breast. “No.”

Jacob stared at her, his eyes dark and cloaked. Then he placed his hat on his head and turned to leave.

“Jacob!” she called when he was nearly out of the room.

He twisted his head to glance at her over his shoulder.

“Why—” She halted and tried to appear as casual as possible. “I told you before that I hadn’t seen him. Why would you ask me again?”

“A secret shipment of gold has been delivered into town.”

Lettie felt a cold lump settle in her stomach.

“Oh?”

“Mr. Gruber’s afraid that the Gentleman might make an appearance.”

He turned to leave, hesitated, then glanced over his shoulder and said, “I’m sorry if I wasn’t the brother I should have been, Lettie. I only wanted to see to it that you weren’t hurt.”

She gazed at her brother with sad eyes, realizing that things could never be the same between them. Even if they could patch up the strain that existed between them now, Jacob would never be able to return to his former role as an overprotective dictator. Because Lettie could never return to her role as a child.

“I don’t say it often enough, Lettie, but…” He glanced down at his hat, then looked up at her again. “I love you, little sister. I’m so proud of you. I’d do anything to see you happy.”

Lettie’s throat seemed to tighten in surprise and unexpected tears. For a moment, Jacob seemed to be looking at her as if he’d never seen her before. His eyes were dark and inscrutable. His brow furrowed as if he were debating some weighty problem. Before she could speak, however, Jacob had turned and walked from the room.

“Jacob?” She took a step forward, then picked up her skirts and ran after him. “Jacob!”

By the time she reached the porch, Jacob had already mounted his horse and ridden from the yard. Grasping the porch support, Lettie watched him go, the cold heavy sensation still lingering in her stomach. Something had upset her brother, something more than the recent tension between them. It was almost as if…

He’d come to warn her.

Lettie’s breathing came quick and sharp and her limbs began to tremble. But had Jacob come to warn
her!
Or had his warning been intended for Ethan?

Jacob brought his mount to a slow halt and glanced over his shoulder. His sister had returned to the house.

Taking a deep drag of the heavy air, Jacob prayed that his suspicions would prove unfounded. He prayed that Lettie was indeed ignorant of McGuire’s whereabouts.

But if Ethan McGuire appeared that night at the Madison Thrift and Loan, Jacob would have to believe that tiny voice within him that whispered Lettie was not as innocent in this affair as she appeared.

And all this time, she’d known just where to find Ethan McGuire.

Lettie moved back into the kitchen, her movements slow and automatic. Sighing, she clasped her skirts in one hand and bent to grasp the handle of the huge copper laundry tub she’d dragged into the middle of the floor only moments before. Just as it did every week, wash day had once again approached. Tomorrow morning, Lettie would be relieved of helping with meals so that she could attack the pile of linens, dishcloths, and boarders’ clothing in need of washing.

Pulling the tub outside and across the back porch, Lettie left it lying next to the railing where no one would trip over it, but in a spot where it would be safe until the next day. Since the copper pot was kept in the cellar between laundry days, it was easier to remove the tub the day before she needed it, rather than fight the morning rush.

Turning toward the creek, Lettie rested her hands on her hips and gazed out toward the golden ball of sunlight hovering high above the treetops beyond the creekline. Lands, it was hot! Despite the fact that the day was finally beginning to wane, the muggy air seemed to cloak her in a lethargic haze until it was all she could do to draw breath into her lungs and let it out again. Most of the boarders had abandoned the house for the thick shade to be found on the front porch. There they could sit and talk about the activity they could see in town or the neighbors that strolled by on their way home to supper.

Lettie could only wonder how Ethan was faring in the sultry heat of room five, where he’d spent the afternoon. She’d been able to see him just once—briefly—when she’d brought him his lunch tray. Since she’d also brought more maps and periodicals, she assumed he’d spent most of the afternoon poring over the diagrams and dated newspapers that held articles on the latest raids of the Gentleman Bandit.

“It’s hot today, isn’t it?”

Lettie started at the low voice behind her and turned to find Ned Abernathy staring at her from within the doorway to the kitchen.

“Hello, Ned.” When his stare became intense and a little uncomfortable, she turned away, ostensibly to study the dusty grass baking in the late-afternoon sun. “Yes. Yes, it is hot.”

She heard the clump of his boots across the weathered wood of the porch and knew the moment Ned stopped, directly behind her. There was a space of silence, then she heard him take a breath.

“Lettie?”

She turned, but only enough so that she could see him without looking him directly in the eyes, since he seemed to be studying her so intently. “Yes?”

“Lettie, I’ve been trying for days now … I mean…” He dropped his head and studied the tips of his boots for a moment, then glanced up, his eyes dark and filled with untold secrets.

“What is it, Ned?”

He took another gulp of air. “Remember that time by the chicken coop, when I told you I thought your dress was pretty?”

“Yes.”

“I actually wanted to tell you…”

“What, Ned?”

“That I liked you.”

“I like you, too, Ned.”

“No—” He looked up. “I—I mean, I
really
like you.” He swallowed, and his eyes became slightly desperate. “I’d do anything for you. Anything. If I could, I’d see to it that all those poems you write came true.”

Lettie grew still when she realized Ned was trying to tell her that he had grown fond of her.

“I know your brother’s real protective of you—and your mama’s got her standards.…” His voice became strangled with evident nerves. “But do you suppose you could ever… like me, too?”

Lettie felt a prick of guilt and compassion for the quiet man beside her who was trying so hard. “Well, I don’t know, Ned. Of course, I already like you… quite a bit.”

His features seemed to lighten in hope, and Lettie knew then that she couldn’t deceive him. She reached out to touch his arm. Though he started, she did not back away.

Taking a breath, she continued: “But I don’t know if I could ever…
like
you the way you want me to, Ned.”