Chapter Thirteen
HOPE MCELROY’S HAND WAS light on his arm.
Keeping his gaze straight ahead, Jake ignored the feel of her fingers, the way her touch raced along his skin through his coat and shirt. Such a small touch shouldn’t cause his heart to race and his body to harden, but that didn’t seem to matter none. He were breathless, and it were with nothing more than her hand on his arm and the step of her by his side.
Night had settled over Ironwood, the main street lit with lamps burning in windows and sconces and light spilling from saloons and parlours as they plied a raucous trade. The compacted dirt of the ground was damp and filled with ridges and holes, countless feet churning it during the daylight hours.
This night was the beginning of his plan, one that was more than what she’d asked and one he’d spent most of the day determining. From her words as they’d made their way to Ironwood, it seemed she had few people, and even fewer who she felt close to. Jake would warrant there was her uncle and then no one. Jake couldn’t blame her. He would too if he’d lost all he loved to Callihan.
Most of what he considered he’d discarded, nothing seeming to be good enough for her. Finally, he’d landed on the idea of courting, as if marriage were their aim rather than a bed. She deserved to be wooed and seduced, for blushes to pinken her pale skin and her eyes to darken with anticipation and lust. He had a need to give her those things, just as much as his need to make her scream and moan.
At the thought of her beneath him, he shifted. Christ, he needed to think of other things if he were going to keep his body under control. Like a fool, though, he risked a glance at her. Her pale hair was scraped back as always, but instead of harshness he noticed the graceful curl of her eyelashes, that her nose sloped into a slight bump at the end, and that her lips were a pale kind of pink.
Again his body hardened. With a silent curse, he pulled his gaze from her. Goddamnit, he would keep himself under control even though all he could think of was hauling her to him and parting those pale pink lips, tracing them with his tongue as he filled his hands with her....
Forcing a slow breath, he spoke, if only to goddamn distract himself. “You needn’t worry.”
Her gaze swung to him, though he kept his eyes ahead. “Pardon?”
“This camp ain’t really the place for a woman after dark, but you needn’t worry.”
“Why would I be worried?”
“Some would. There aren’t many decent women in camp, and those that are would be behind their own door once night fell.”
“Are you saying Margaret is not decent?”
Was her tone arch? It sounded arch. “I’m not saying that, I’m saying—”
“I know what you’re saying.” He could hear a smile in her voice, though her features remained calm. “I’m not worried. I’m with you.”
Something deep, dark, and warm unfurled in his chest. Clearing his throat didn’t rid him of the feeling, one he couldn’t readily identify and he couldn’t recall feeling afore in the entirety of his life. It was, however, one he were feeling more and more…because of her.
This were so different from their beginning. Then, she didn’t trust him to tell her the time of day but now she would take his hand and allow him to lead her without comment, into a night that could hold terrors and danger, and she trusted him to keep her well. She trusted him.
For a time, they walked in silence, and he were still focused on the weight of her hand on his arm, the warmth that bled through cloth from her skin to his.
“Besides, I am no different from Margaret or the women she works with, and they are often out after dark. Whether I am with you or not is immaterial.”
Jake’s lips quirked. Lord, he knew her well enough now to know she didn’t mean it like it could be taken. She weren’t denigrating his skills, she were merely stating fact, and the fact was she felt safe with him, even though there was no reason to feel fear. He could read her now…well, he could read her some. He would never think he would ever fully know her. “Are you wondering where we’re going?”
“I thought to ask, but this is part of your stratagem, isn’t it? The anticipation is thrilling.”
Christ, a ten-dollar word. He couldn’t stop his smile this time. “Stratagem? What do you know of my stratagem?”
“Nothing. I assume you will tell me what I need to know and demonstrate when applicable.”
Jake almost groaned at the thought. Christ, he was looking forward to demonstrating. “I surely will,” he said, his voice a rasp.
Hope swallowed, and her fingers tightened on his arm. Hope. He loved her name. It were too long since he had any hope of his own, any determination apart from living the next day, and the one after that, and earning coin along the way. Hope had vengeance and purpose, was looking to rid the world of a bad man and win herself some peace at the same time. She weren’t broken by her tragedies, and she’d taken what her uncle had given her and built herself an empire in the meantime. He’d seen how hard she worked, how the transport company employed many and had even more moving parts. She kept them all spinning, even here in the middle of nowhere. It was a long time since he believed in anything even half as much as she did, but he were beginning to believe in her.
They approached a soft glow spilling from a side street and music made by foreign hands floated to them. Steering them toward the light, he led her through the side street, and after a turn or two they came out into a wide clearing where a sea of colour greeted them. Lanterns made of paper were strung on a thin rope held aloft by slender wooden poles, flickering candles painting the light with colour. Folks who originally hailed from China crowded the streets, eating and talking and laughing. Some of the revellers eyed them warily as they passed. Jake didn’t blame them none. His kind were not known for their tolerance of people who held the slightest difference.
Hope looked around them, surprise and wonder painting her features. “What is this?”
“The Chinese camp. They’re holding a festival to celebrate harvest.”
“How did you know about it?”
“Someone mentioned it.” He didn’t add he’d asked around the camp for something to take her to, something that would impress her and bring her a joy he was certain had been sorely missing in her life. He would have taken her to the Diamond’s Spectacular, but that weren’t for another two weeks and he sure as hell wasn’t going to wait that long.
Approaching a food vendor, he handed over cash for a wedge of a strange-looking cake and a cup of steaming tea. He offered both to Hope.
She took the delicacy from him. “What is it?”
“I don’t rightly know, but it looks delicious.”
Her finger traced the intricate design on top. “What do you think this means?”
“Happy harvest?”
The corner of her lip lifted.
Something tugged at him deep inside.
Concentrating intensely, she cautiously brought it to her lips. Her tongue darted out, tasting the filling. He stifled a groan. Christ, he wanted that tongue.
Taking a bite, her brow clearing in surprise. “It’s sweet.”
“Can I have a taste?” At her nod, he captured her wrist, the skin between her glove and her sleeve warm under his fingers. Bringing the cake to his mouth, he slowly took a bite, his gaze locked with hers.
Eyes darkening, her lips parted as she drew in a faltering breath. Licking his lips, he savoured the sweetness of the pastry even as he knew it would be half as goddamn sweet as her. Her gaze followed the movement and something hesitant crossed her features, barely there but it was there.
Abruptly, nerves assaulted him and with them, doubt. What was he doing, thinking he could teach her anything? He might have some experience, but he was now responsible for how she would regard it all from this moment on. How did he even know if he were good enough? If he knew enough to make it good for her? He ain’t never been with someone who didn’t know what they were doing, and it could be he would lead them both to disaster. “Have you been kissed?” he asked abruptly.
“I—My uncle used to kiss my cheek.”
“By a man.” Jake cleared his throat. “A suitor.”
Hope’s cheeks looked flushed, but it could just be the colour from the lamps. “Twice.”
“Twice,” he repeated. Goddamn nerves. She’d asked for this. She wanted it. He wanted it. He would make it as good as he could and fuck his goddamn nerves.
His fingers were still about her wrist. With a slight tug, he drew her closer. She looked up at him, a question in her eyes but as he leaned down, she realised the answer and she reached up as his lips brushed hers.
Fire jolted through him. Surprise held him still a moment, that such a small caress could cause such an intense reaction. Eyes closed, she stretched up to him, pressing her lips to his once more. The simple kiss consumed him, and he wanted to bring her closer still, to conquer her mouth and claim her with his tongue, but she’d only been kissed twice before and he would not frighten her. Instead, he would kiss her slow and sweet, his tongue gentle on the seam of her lips, a delicate tasting rather than the plunder he craved.
Her hands curled around the lapels of his jacket, crushing the fabric as her fingers tightened. He kept himself under ruthless control, kissing her again and again as she whimpered softly, each sound driving him further to the edge.
Finally, with a sigh, she pulled back and she glanced up at him. His gaze drifted to the freckle beside her eye, the one he had yet to taste. Gently, he lowered his mouth and brushed the small blemish, and it were sweet and salty and tasted of Hope.
Tilting her head, she smoothed the lapels of his jacket and, suppressing a groan, he kept his groin angled away from her as she petted him over and over, her touch light and soft. Eventually, she gave him a small smile and turned back to the lanterns.
So released, he expelled a shaky breath. He were shaken, is what he was. He knew he felt for her, but he didn’t know how deep it ran. Could be this was a mistake.
He glanced at her. She watched those around them avidly, the faintest of smiles curving her lips as if she were happy. She glanced at him and that small smile intensified. As if he had made her happy.
Taking her hand, he laced their fingers. She squeezed, and in her touch he read so many things, things he could be reading wrong but damn it, he wanted to believe and here, where colour exploded around them, he damn well was going to.
A grin tugging at him, he turned to steer them back to the hotel.
Ahead, in the middle of the parted crowd, was Pearl La Monte.
Jake’s step faltered. The coloured light fell on Pearl’s red hair, the thick tresses rioting like flame along her back. Her green eyes sparked, the luminescence painting her creamy skin. Her dress was flamboyant, a deep jewel-like blue that shimmered and shined with a low neck and a nipped in waist. She was laughing, holding a festival cake as an offering to the man at her side.
Forever ago, he’d thought to court Pearl La Monte, to woo her to his side and his bed. He’d been rebuffed in pretty fine fashion by the lady herself, and perhaps he’d not taken it as well as he could have. Her beau at the time had objected strenuously, a big blond man named—
Christ. The man at her side was Ethan Garrett.
Unease filled his gut. Ever since he’d known they were to ride to Ironwood, he’d quite handily managed to avoid thinking about Pearl and her beau, and his role in their life almost a decade ago.
“What is it?” Hope’s brows were drawn.
He shook himself. “Nothing. Just saw someone I used to know.”
“Really? You know people here?”
“Not really. Not well.” Christ, he didn’t want to introduce Hope to Pearl and Garrett. They weren’t more than acquaintances, and besides which the period in which he’d known them were a time he’d rather forget. He had been an arrogant prick when he were younger, and he didn’t need the reminder or to have to explain his previous poor behaviour to Hope.
He saw the moment Garrett spied him over the top of Pearl’s head. The stoic expression turned sour, and now it was absent, Jake realised there had been pleasure laced beneath the stoicism.
Garrett’s eyes bore into Jake. Pearl, noticing Garett’s distraction, turned. Conflicting emotions warred on her face before she settled on a warm smile. She leaned to Garrett to speak briefly and then started toward him and Hope.
“Mr Wade, good evening. It has been quite some time since you visited Ironwood.”
“It has, but it is delightful to see you again, Miss Pearl. And you, Garrett,” he added.
“Wade,” the man said, and then said nothing more.
Pearl’s gaze moved to his side. Belatedly, he said “May I present Miss Hope McElroy, lately of Sacramento?”
Pearl’s lips twitched. “You may. How do you do, Miss McElroy?”
“Very well,” Hope said.
Glancing at her, Jake frowned. Her voice were even, and her expression were wiped of all emotion. This didn’t bode well.
“What has you returning, Mr Wade?”
“A job. Hunting down a villain, Miss Pearl.”
Her brows lifted. “And do you think to find this villain at the festival?”
“Ah…” Heat burned his cheeks. Damnit, he was a man grown. Why did he feel goddamn awkward around the woman? She were beautiful, it were true, and she exuded sensuality and confidence, but she were clearly with Garrett, and probably had been for years, since at least the last time Jake was in town. Besides which, he had Hope.
Pearl’s beauty was vibrant, and that time years ago, he’d thought her the most exquisite woman he’d ever seen. Now, though, he found he preferred a more subtle type of beauty, one painted in various shades of pale.
“You will have to stop by the Diamond, tell us what you have done with your time,” Pearl said.
“No, you don’t,” Garrett muttered.
Surreptitiously, Pearl elbowed him. Garrett barely moved, but his lips twisted, his gaze never leaving Jake.
Jake shifted uncomfortably. He supposed he deserved it. Tugging his hat, he said, “It were mighty fine seeing you again, Miss Pearl. Garrett.”
Garrett nodded stiffly and, with a subtle gesture, led them away.
“Did you use to court her?”
He turned. Hope looked after them, her expression unreadable.
“I don’t know as I’d call it courting.”
She turned her gaze to him. “Then what would you call it?”
He shrugged. “Foolishness.”
“She is very beautiful.”
“She is.”
A faint ripple on her features.
“Here now.” He cupped her cheek. “I don’t want her, Hope. Whatever feeling I had for her faded years ago. I’m with you. I want you.”
She wouldn’t meet his gaze. “She is very beautiful.”
Ah. “You know, a gold-plated Derringer pistol with a mother-of-pearl handle and silver inlay is much admired.”
Her brow creased.
He had a point and he would get to it. “Many purchase one, carry it around, take it out every now and then to admire it. But me, I’ve never wanted a Derringer. Maybe I’ve seen one in a magazine a time or two, and thought it would be fine to own such a pretty thing, but what use would I have for it? It’s pointless in a gun fight, and won’t intimidate anyone.
“Now, my Colt revolver, that’s useful. It’s practical, and holds a beauty of its own. It’s just you have to look a little closer to see the engraving on the handle, the precision of the barrel. The trigger perfectly fits my hand, and I can’t see myself ever not needing it.”
A soft smile pulled at her lips. “A Derringer and a Colt.”
He nodded.
She shook her head.
“Pearl is the Derringer,” he said.
“I surmised as much.”
“You are the Colt.”
“I know, Jake. You are…” With a laugh, she shook her head.
He wrapped an arm about her waist. “I don’t want a Derringer, Hope. I don’t need one.”
“But you need a Colt?” She yet smiled, but a hint of uncertainty lurked in her gaze.
In answer, he kissed her and, when they broke apart, she held his hand as they walked back to the hotel.