Forty-five

He noted her courage in the face of discovery. Didn’t like it a hell of a lot, but he noted it. Just as he noted her jealousy. He could hardly blame her. If he had seen a man kiss Stevie the way Christina—damn her soul—had kissed him, he would shoot first and ask questions later.

Just the thought of a man kissing Stevie sharpened Heath’s voice. “Before we discuss why you’re so mad at me, I demand an explanation. Why did you refuse to travel with me, then show up here in Kansas City?” His tone softened. “Dare I hope you changed your mind?”

“You can hope all you want. Far as I know, it’s not against the law. But some of us have learned there’s not much benefit to it.”

Heath winced. The air was thick with her unspoken accusation. She had hoped that he would return for her. It was painfully obvious that due to Christina’s untimely arrival, Stevie now considered her hopes for a future with him futile. Guilt warred with indignation. If she had wanted him so badly, all she had to do was accept his invitation to New York. She really had no right to be angry at him about Christina. Just as he was about to reassure her on that score, she pulled a snub-nosed derringer on him.

“Now, get out of my way,” she ordered, pointing the patently unimpressive weapon at his chest.

“Take care, sugar.” He chuckled, enraging her further. “If you shoot me with that and I find out about it, I might get mad.”

That he would make fun of her made her even angrier. “Move,” she spat out through clenched teeth.

He stood there for a moment. “Oh, hell!” With two strides he was in front of her. “Give me that damn thing before you hurt yourself.” He grabbed the gun and tossed it on the bed. Wrapping his arms around her, he kissed her hard. At length, she relaxed against him. He raised his head. “Are you going to tell me what you’re doing here, or not?”

She stiffened. “I’m on my way to New York.”

“Care to tell me why you turned me down, then struck out on your own?” He had a pretty good idea what she was after. It was the same thing she had been after since the first moment they met. Judge Jack. When she remained mute, he prodded her, “You didn’t eavesdrop on a conversation between Jay and me, did you?”

She considered confessing all and asking his help. Now that he had discovered her, there was little need for secrecy.

A sharp rap came on the door. Heath crossed over and admitted Jeevers. A string of hotel employees filed into the room behind him, some carrying buckets of hot water, some platters of food. He instructed the water bearers to fill the tub in the other room, the food bearers to set the table in front of a pair of partially open French doors.

“Our train leaves within the hour. Do you want to bathe or eat first?”

Stevie was put off that Heath assumed she was traveling with him. All the while she was pleased that he didn’t press her for further explanation.

When she didn’t answer, he said, “I have a matter to attend to. Feel free to use the bath. We can eat when I return.”

Stevie knew good and well the matter had to do with Christina. Indignant, she turned on her heel and disappeared into the other room.

 

 

Refreshed and replete, Stevie still not speaking, they piled into a carriage shortly before sunset for the ride to the depot. When they arrived, it took conscious effort for Stevie not to gape at the spectacle before her. The sight was even more awe-inspiring—and intimidating—than the elegant hotel.

What a country bumpkin she was! She had never seen such a mass of people. It seemed as though everyone west of the Mississippi were catching the train to St. Louis. Despite her pique, she stepped closer to Heath’s side as he made his way through the crowd with ease, guiding her the length of the train, arriving finally at the most exquisite Pullman rail car Kansas City had ever seen.

Stevie lost the fight for nonchalance then. There was no way she could appear unimpressed when they broke through the crowd ringing the exquisite mode of travel. “It’s beautiful,” she breathed, her first word to Heath in an hour.

“Wonder whose it is?” a heavyset woman behind them asked her pencil-thin husband.

Stevie wondered the same. Pictures of European royalty dining inside flashed upon the stained glass windows in her mind. A richly clad lady smiling across a candlelit table at her lover was another of her fanciful musings.

She was drawn to the car by her whimsical flights of fantasy. That’s when she noticed the ornate gilt initials painted on the side of the car. H.H.T. She jerked her head in Heath’s direction. Surely not.

Jeevers directed the carriage driver to load their luggage inside the Pullman, keeping his own luggage by his side.

Stevie stared at Heath’s profile, wide-eyed. She felt a sense of betrayal. The hotel and Jeevers were one thing, but this . . .

She had known that he was well-to-do; financially comfortable was the way he had explained his family’s economic status. But he must be a flaming millionaire to own a rail car such as this. Once again the impossibility of their union loomed in her mind, large and threatening. In one instant of painful honesty she had to admit that she was afraid.

Afraid? She was terrified. She had faced a striking rattler with nothing more than a garden hoe for defense and not felt the depth of fear that was clawing at her now. This was too much. She was out of her element, in over her head. Mentally, she searched for further clichés even as she entertained the notion of running as far and as fast as her fancy tooled boots would carry her.

Just as she would have made her cowardly getaway, Heath’s unborn child chose that moment to keep her rooted in place. A twenty-foot tidal wave of nausea flowed over her, drenching her in misery from top to bottom. “Ohhh,” she moaned as the sky above her head and the platform beneath her feet changed places. She bent at the waist and fought desperately for breath.

She was about to faint for the first time in her life. She would probably be trampled by the masses gawking at the evidence of Heath’s wealth. Her panic rose to the degree that her consciousness wavered. She moaned.

“Honey?” Wheeling toward her, Heath wrapped his arms around her. She lost consciousness and he lifted her high against his chest. Beset by worry, he carried her aboard.