When Adam, Molly, and Henrietta walked out of the dining room of the Planters House, Flora and Lord Haldane were in the lobby. The earl, having arrived shortly after Flora, was at the front desk arranging for a room, while Flora waited for him in a comfortable chair. Lounging with her head against the padded back, she first caught a glimpse of Adam from under the veil of her lashes.
Her eyes snapped open, her mouth curved into a smile, and she was rising from her chair when she saw him turn to his right and put his arm around Molly Fisk, who came into view from behind a fluted pillar. As they moved down the passageway leading from the restaurant, Henrietta appeared on Adam’s left, and Flora’s smile abruptly vanished.
Gazing at the friendly scene, she cautioned herself to restraint—no doubt some reasonable explanation existed.
Adam immediately saw Flora as she emerged from behind one of the numerous potted palms decorating the lobby, and, considering her unexpected appearance, she gave him high points for poise. “You’re a long way from camp,” he calmly said, dropping his arm from Molly’s shoulder, taking in her dusty trail clothes with a swift glance. “I thought you were staying on the Yellowstone.” The faintest rebuke lingered in his tone.
“Obviously,” Flora retorted. “Am I interrupting anything?”
“Adam was kind enough to take us to lunch,” Molly interceded. “We’re celebrating the imminent departure of my houseguest, the Comtesse de Chastellux.”
“Celebrating?”
“Isolde’s leaving for Europe tonight,” Adam said.
“Are you sure?” Skepticism arched Flora’s brows. “I just saw her on the street, and she seemed intent on maintaining her position here.”
“Accept my apologies … then … for Isolde.” His last, he hoped. “She’s always difficult.”
“More than difficult, I’d say. I wouldn’t count on her leaving.”
“Perhaps she simply wanted the last word,” Adam suggested, taking Flora’s hand in his, not wishing to dwell on Isolde’s presence in Montana. Flora didn’t seem unduly upset by her encounter, and by nightfall his wife would be gone. “She won’t want to be here once the weather turns cold,” he said, explaining Isolde’s departure plans in a highly edited recital, “and an early snow could close some of the travel routes. She’d never take the chance of missing the Parisian season. So I think she’s actually going this time,” he declared. “Thanks in large part to Molly’s assistance in arranging for Isolde’s trunks and luggage. This lunch is small payment for her aid,” he said with a smile.
“How very strange this must seem to you,” Flora said to Molly, understanding the reason for Adam’s cheer. “But thank you very much.”
“We’ve our share of strange stories out here on the frontier, Lady Flora,” Molly replied. “Some of them pretty violent, and the countess never did take to the country. She always complained about the dust,” Molly added with a smile, surveying Flora’s utilitarian clothing coated with trail dirt.
“I’m afraid she wouldn’t approve, then,” Flora noted, glancing down at her coated boots and trousers. “But I only just arrived and haven’t had time to change yet.”
Adam quickly surveyed the lobby. “You didn’t come alone, did you?”
“Of course not,” she calmly replied. “Papa’s arranging a room, and Alan, Douglas, and Henry are still at the livery stable.”
“You shouldn’t have ridden that far. Are you tired? You must be, and hungry too, I suppose,” he said with a grin, her appetite prodigious since her pregnancy.
He suddenly seemed unaware of the others, his concern obvious, the affection in his voice low, intimate, causing any third party to feel de trop. “I think we’ll be on our way now,” Molly obligingly said. “Thank you for the lunch, Adam, and our best wishes and congratulations to you both.”
“Adam told you about the baby!” Flora exclaimed. “We’re ecstatic, aren’t we darling?” she jubilantly said, gazing up at Adam.
Choking, Adam disguised his shock with a small cough. “Absolutely thrilled,” he manfully agreed.
“We’re expecting in the spring,” Flora explained, obviously elated. “Or at least that’s what Spring Lily tells me. I’m a total novice. Adam had to convince me finally that it’s true.”
Molly would have liked to have witnessed that exchange, entertained by the notion that the man who’d been caution itself when it came to his choice of amorous partners—always preferring women enlightened about birth control—had to explain impending motherhood to his naive lover. “How opportune the timing,” Molly graciously declared. “Spring is a perfect time to have a baby.”
“Anytime would be a perfect time,” Adam said, pulling Flora into his arms in full sight of everyone in the crowded lobby.
“You’re making a scene,” Flora murmured, gazing up at him with a languorous smile.
“Now I’m making a scene,” he corrected, lifting her into his arms, smearing his black frock coat and embroidered vest with the fine gray dust from her clothes. “Good afternoon, Molly, Henrietta,” he said with a dismissive nod and a lighthearted smile. “We have a few things to discuss.” And strolling away toward the stairs, he kissed her as an audible gasp from onlookers momentarily silenced the buzz of conversation in the luxurious lobby.
“He’s really, truly in love with her, Auntie,” Henrietta mournfully declared, watching Adam carry Flora up the flight of red-carpeted stairs in great, long strides. “Did you see how he looked at her? How he smiled at her when she said they’re having a baby? I’ll never have him now,” she lamented.
“I’m afraid you’re right, darling,” Molly commiserated, patting her niece’s gloved hand. “It’s a shock to me as well. I never thought I’d see the day when Adam Serre fell in love. Although I’m pleased for him. He’s had his share of misery the last few years. If the countess was going to stay much longer,” Molly averred, “I’d kill her myself. You needn’t worry, though, darling,” she soothed. “You’re young, pretty, and very rich. You won’t lack suitors.”
“But none as wickedly handsome as Adam,” Henrietta fretfully replied.
“Let’s think about this on our way home,” Molly suggested, taking her niece’s hand and moving toward the street entrance. “What do you say to having Ellis Green over for dinner tomorrow? He’s certainly an attractive man. I know it’s short notice, but your uncle will ask him for us. Now, who else could we invite? Do you think Maud Henley would like to come with her new husband? Or perhaps that nice Mr. Belton.”
“Oh, Auntie,” Henrietta sighed, marginally restored from her doldrums. “Do you think Ellis Green would ever notice little old me? He’s so handsome.”
“I’ve a feeling he’ll not only notice you but like you immensely,” Molly assured her. Henrietta’s millionaire father would be of distinct interest to Ellis, she knew, for Ellis had political ambitions, like all his family. He’d understand with that male practicality that made politics the art of compromise how useful it would be to align himself with a family as influential as Henrietta’s. She’d have Harold mention to Ellis when he invited him that Henrietta’s very generous marriage portion also included a stately home in Washington.
“He’s ever so tall,” Henrietta cooed, “and his manners are divine.” A smile lifted the curve of her large mouth. “What should I wear, Auntie?”
Apparently her heart wasn’t permanently damaged by Adam’s loss, Molly dryly noted. But at eighteen, whose was?
“You shouldn’t have come,” Adam said, kicking the door of his hotel room shut, “but now that you’re here, I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather spend the afternoon with.” His smile was very close.
“Doing what?” Flora playfully murmured. “Although I warn you, after seeing Henrietta lusting after you, I’m in a decidedly possessive mood.”
Leaning against the door, Adam gazed down at her with amusement. “We probably don’t want to be disturbed, then. Should you tell your father where you are?”
“Oh, Lord!” Flora ruefully exclaimed. “I forgot! Put me down. Where’s the bell for the maid? Adam! Put me down.”
“Relax, darling,” Adam said with a grin. “He saw us.”
“Are you sure?”
“He waved and smiled, so I’m pretty sure,” Adam teasingly replied.
“You’re supposed to be nice to the mother of your child,” Flora said, pouting with a decidedly seductive allure.
“I intend to be in just a minute,” he murmured, the heat in his gaze tantalizing. “And indulgent and pampering and very gratifying.”
“In that case,” she whispered, sorcery in her voice and violet eyes, “you’re forgiven.”
They spent a heated, sensual afternoon in bed while James entertained Lord Haldane.
“I don’t know if I can convince Flora to stay behind,” the earl replied to James’s concern, their conversation over drinks focused on the campaign against Ned Storham. “Actually, I doubt I can.”
“Adam won’t allow it at a certain point. I know him.”
The earl smiled. “We’ll have to see what happens, then, for Flora is extremely stubborn once she’s made up her mind. I gave up directing her life long ago. And I confess to a certain ambivalence. She’s a very capable shot to have on your side.”
While James understood that the Absarokee culture allowed female participation in warfare under certain circumstances, he felt Adam would personally forbid Flora to accompany them on such a dangerous mission. Wishing to exact revenge for his brother, Ned Storham was intent on Adam’s death—with the possession of Adam’s land enormous added incentive.
“What weapons did you bring along?” James asked, debating whether any might be of use to them.
“We’ve new Winchester rifles and Colt revolvers, also several of my custom hunting rifles. They’re sharpshooter’s rifles with a distance of fifteen hundred yards. I thought they might be of use on this expedition.” He knew that because of the Absarokee’s modest force of warriors, they fought a guerrilla-style warfare, rarely utilizing frontal attack in battle. They couldn’t afford the high casualties.
“How proficient are Alan and Douglas with weapons?” A strategist, James always considered all options.
“Both are excellent shots. Alan prides himself on not unduly marring the coat of an animal specimen. He likes to use a small bore rifle with a twenty-two round that kills with a minimum of damage. Douglas is equally good. Henry learned about firearms as a boy fighting off the customs men in his native Cornwall. He never wastes a shot. But Flora’s most skilled. I think Adam’s already seen her shoot.”
James had too, that day at the ranch. Her marksmanship was impressive. She sighted-in swiftly, handled the pump action on her weapon with fluid skill, and fired a startling number of rounds in a few seconds. “She’s going to be a soul mate to Adam, no doubt,” James remarked. “But surely she has to consider her pregnancy.”
“I tried to caution her; I’m sure Adam did too, but I’m afraid she disagrees. She wants to help protect Adam so their child and Lucie won’t be deprived of a father.” The earl shrugged, a negligent dismissal of James’s growing scowl. “I’m here to support her in whatever decision she makes.” He smiled at his dinner partner. “It’s been my role for a very long time.”
At that moment Adam was lounging on the bed, gazing at Flora, who lay beside him, her face marred by a frown. “Darling, you know how much I love you,” he gently said, “but you really can’t come along. This isn’t a gentlemanly game of war with rules and etiquette and prisoner exchange for ransom. This isn’t a lady’s game, and don’t scowl at me like that. I realize you can do most anything I can do. I know you can shoot as well as any man, probably better than most, but if I take you with me, I’ll be spending all my time worrying about you and the baby. I can’t afford the distraction, darling. You’ll be in the goddamned way.”
“You think you’re right, don’t you?” she grudgingly said.
He exhaled in frustration because they’d been arguing for some time. “I know I’m right,” he firmly declared. “I’ve been going on war parties since I was fifteen, and part of the reason for the success of my medicine, or whatever you want to call that special spirit that carries one to victory, is the fact that I’m totally focused, with no distractions. Lucie understands; maybe it requires a simple faith like hers. She realizes I’ll always come back to her. But I need to know that whatever decision I make in battle won’t be compromised by doubt or apprehension or caution. In combat you’re operating on pure energy, which vitalizes your mind and your limbs and the source of your strength. Let me go and take care of Ned Storham without having to wonder if one of his hired thugs is going to put a bullet through your beautiful head. Please, darling,” he softly whispered.
“I don’t want to say yes,” Flora reluctantly acknowledged. “But if I do,” she went on, understanding her presence could be an actual danger to him, “what will you do for me?”
“I’ll be back very soon,” he promised, relieved she’d finally relented. “Wait for me here, if you wish. It’s closer to Virginia City.”
“Is Ned in Virginia City?”
“Last we heard,” he evasively said. “We were going to leave this afternoon, but since you arrived, it won’t hurt to postpone our departure until morning.” They’d be cutting the time close, but it wasn’t an impossible ride. “Let’s go downstairs for dinner tonight,” he coaxed, gently brushing the curve of her bottom lip. “Do you know we’ve never eaten dinner in the dining room? Let me show you off. Did you bring a gown”—he smiled—“or will we have to brush off your trousers?”
“Now am I supposed to be gracious and appeased?” she murmured.
“I’d really appreciate your cooperation, bia.” His grin reminded her of the boy beneath the man. “Am I being suitably humble?”
“I have a gown,” she said in succinct answer. “Will I be rewarded for this benevolent understanding?”
“Perhaps something from Tiffany’s.”
“I’m not Isolde.”
“Something more personal, then.” His smile held seductive promise.
“How clever of you.”
“A kiss?” he playfully suggested.
“It’s a start,” Flora murmured, reaching over to slip her fingers through the heavy silk of his hair and tugging his head close.
A heated interval later Flora said, “That’s the third occasion you’ve checked the time. Am I keeping you from a pressing engagement?”
Six-thirty, Adam noted, before turning his full attention on Flora. Leaning over, he kissed her rosy cheek. “I was planning on meeting James to look at a thoroughbred Daniel McGillvray has for sale,” he lied. “But James can go alone.” It didn’t look as though he could comfortably leave to check on Isolde’s departure. But his men and James could manage without him.
“Why don’t you go? I have to wash my hair if we’re dressing for dinner. It’ll take some time to dry. Is McGillvray’s far?”
“No, just up the hill.” A small wave of relief washed over him. He preferred seeing for himself that Isolde left. “I’ll be back in half an hour,” he said. “You’re sure you don’t mind?”
Flora smiled up at him. “I’m sure.” She indolently stretched, then glanced at the clock. “I probably won’t even have my bathwater by the time you’re back.”
So that evening while the Fisks were viewing the setting sun from a vantage point on the hills west of town, and the servants were enjoying their leisure after having been given the night off, two men entered the Fisk mansion and surprised the Comtesse de Chastellux as she was writing a note in the library. Quickly gagging her and binding her hands and feet, they carried her out of the silent house and carefully placed her in the coach parked outside the kitchen door.
“You’re dressed for travel, I see,” Adam said, appearing at the open door of the carriage with Isolde’s note in his hand. Gazing in on his trussed wife attired in a riding habit, he said, “How convenient that you were on your way out. However, I’ll tell Ned when I see him that you changed your mind about marrying him. A shame, because I’m sure you would have killed him in a much more brutal way than I could contemplate.” Shrugging, he pocketed her note. “Unfortunately, I can’t wait to find out. I’m pressed for time. Good-bye, Isolde, it’s been a hellish five years.” Closing the coach door on the hatred in her eyes, he locked it and handed the key to one of his men, who would accompany the driver to the railhead.
“Will she stay away?” James quietly inquired as they watched the carriage roll down the hill.
“Probably not,” Adam bluntly said, “but once the annulment is finalized, I don’t care.”
“Are we ready for Ned Storham now? Stopping him should be slightly more bloody than the disposal of Isolde.”
“That depends on how much loyalty his money will buy. My guess is, not an enormous amount. But we’ll find out very soon.”
As it turned out, Adam and Flora went downstairs very late, because Adam returned in time to join Flora in her bath and then, dressing for dinner, took another amorous interval; so before they stepped from their room, it was almost ten o’clock.
James and the earl joined them from the bar where they’d retired after their dinner, and the foursome spent an agreeable evening together. No one brought up the controversial subject of Flora’s participation; conversation was devoted to less contentious topics.
And much later that night, as they lay in each other’s arms, Adam murmured, “I didn’t know you could love so totally. I love you in bed like this with your body close to mine or at dinner in public among crowds and throngs like tonight—all with the same deep passion.”
“We’re very lucky,” Flora softly said. “I didn’t even believe in love—passion perhaps, but not love. Do you know how close I came to avoiding the party at Judge Parkman’s?”
Adam smiled. “I knew I was obliged to make an appearance, but my intention was to offer my congratulations and leave as soon as possible.”
Flora grinned. “And then I seduced you.”
“I’ll be forever grateful, bia,” he gently said. “You’ve given me my life back.”
Adam slipped away that night after Flora fell asleep, wanting to avoid any added arguments in the morning, wanting to find Ned Storham and crush him. He’d never felt such ruthless intent even after years of warfare and raiding, his urge to destroy the man who threatened his newfound life a pitiless resolve, an all-devouring quest.
“Let’s get this over with,” he curtly said to James as they met that morning, as if Ned Storham’s head were the bloody price for peace.
They rode south through the gray shadows of predawn, forty of them mounted on their war ponies like lethal weapons of destruction, honed by years of training, urged on by the need to protect their country, their families, their future.
When Flora woke at first light, she dressed quickly in riding clothes and went to wake her father. He was seated at a table set for breakfast in his room, booted and spurred, reading the paper.
“I’ve been expecting you,” he said with a smile. “There’s weak tea here for you and some dry toast. You overslept.”
“Adam’s unbelievably stealthy. I wouldn’t want him to be out to murder me in the night. And the baby makes me sleep more.” She smiled as she sat down opposite him and reached for the teapot. “You look as though you’re ready to go somewhere.”
“Just waiting for you to make your appearance. I assumed you were planning on a ride south when you didn’t mention the pursuit of Ned Storham last night at dinner. Didn’t want to openly lie to Adam, did you?” he added with a grin, and folding the paper away, he lifted a silver cover from a plate of ham.
“So perceptive, Papa,” Flora replied, her smile half-hidden behind the rim of her cup.
“How many years have I been watching you get your way, darling?” he inquired, placing a slice of ham on his plate. “And I must admit—from a safe distance of course, for you do have a baby to consider now—it would be interesting to avail ourselves of a bit of target practice on those hired gunmen. I don’t suppose you want any of this,” he added, placing the cover back on the serving platter.
“Not unless you relish my throwing up ham. I’ll take some along for lunch, though. By that time I’ll be ready to eat anything and everything.”
“I had the hotel pack us some food,” her father casually said, spooning some scrambled eggs onto his plate. “Are you going to be all right?” he sympathetically queried, looking at her pained expression.
“Put the cover back on those eggs if you don’t mind, Papa. There. I’m fine now. The smell … it’s too early.” Settling back in her chair, she sipped on her heavily sweetened tea.
“They left at four,” her father declared, cutting his ham.
“A little over an hour ago,” Flora noted, glancing at the clock. “Are the others ready?”
Her father nodded as he chewed on his food.
“So I’m the only one holding up our departure.”
Swallowing, the earl said, “They’re not that far ahead, and the Absarokee take care not to tire their mounts when they anticipate a long ride.17 Take your time with your tea.”
Alan, Douglas, and Henry were waiting at the livery stable with the horses saddled, the packs in place, the weapons all in prime condition. They’d protected Lady Flora in scores of remote corners of the world, and by contrast, Montana Territory was considerably less dangerous.
Additionally, each man was an adventurer at heart, or he would have spent his life in more conventional pursuits and locales. In truth, a certain joie de vivre was in evidence that morning.
“If you need your jacket, I tied it behind your saddle,” Henry said, helping Flora mount. “Your Tanser rifle is in your front gun case, the Winchester’s in back, the Colt is slipped smooth as silk into this holster,” he went on, indicating the tooled leather sheath to the right of her pommel. “There’s a canteen of water right here,” he added, patting an engraved steel flask. He sounded like a nanny taking care of his child, although the directions were for more lethal concerns. But he’d attended to Flora’s well-being for so many years, neither saw anything strange in the instructions.
Flora smiled her thanks and proceeded to check all her weapons for ammunition, a rote procedure she’d learned very young.
“Do we know what this Storham fellow looks like?” Alan quietly asked, his tall, lanky form casually disposed in his saddle, his carrot-orange hair framing an elongated face with dark, intense eyes like a militant saint.
“Short, stocky, ruddy complexion, sandy hair, Mexican silver on his tack, and traveling with a renegade bunch,” Douglas succinctly enumerated. A methodical personality, he was always prepared with background information. “He’s not a particularly fast draw, I hear. He relies on his hired guns and ambush.”
“We don’t want to get close enough to see his ruddy complexion,” the earl significantly noted. “We’re along only to help, not contribute to the assault force.”
“We’re along to see that my child and Lucie have a father,” Flora softly declared. “And we’ll do whatever we have to do to assure that end.”
The men exchanged swift glances.
The earl had been quite clear in his directives last night: Adam Serre was to survive this campaign. Not, however, at the risk of his daughter’s life.
Flora’s fearless courage seemed in sharp contrast to her demure appearance that morning. In a tucked white linen blouse and black riding pants with her hair pulled back in a thick braid and small pearl earrings dangling from her ears, she had the look of a modest young lady.
“Don’t worry, Lady Flora,” Henry replied. “The count won’t be needing much help with those warriors riding at his side, but we’re more than ready to lend our assistance.”