Lover's Gold (14 page)

“Why, yes, I’d like that.” She watched him head toward the men’s punch table at the back of the room, then made use of his absence to survey the remaining guests. She was searching for Morgan, but he was nowhere to be found. She felt a wave of relief, followed by a surge of disappointment, then another bout of anger at herself. She sighed. At least Morgan was one problem she wouldn’t have to deal with tonight.

“Well, daughter,” Henry Dawson was saying, having ended his conversation with Samuel Smythe, a mine owner from Hazleton. “We Dawsons will be proud to have you in the family.”

“Thank you, Henry.” She couldn’t bring herself to call him Father. They chatted a bit more, and he introduced her to several important industrialists from Wilkes-Barre, who had just arrived. The five-piece orchestra began to play just as Chuck arrived with her punch. Thirsty from her nervousness, she took a big sip, choked, and nearly sprayed it on the man beside her. Tears came to her eyes, and she coughed several times behind her hand.

Chuck patted her on the back. “Are you all right, my dear?”

“Chuck, this is . . . the men’s punch!”

He hushed her. “I won’t tell if you won’t. Come on, drink up. It’ll be fun.” He smiled and pushed the cup firmly back toward her lips.

Elaina quietly fumed. She had nothing against drinking. She enjoyed an occasional glass of sherry as much as anyone else, but to be pushed into it against her wishes, that was something different. After pretending to take another sip, she set the cup down on a table and pretended to accidentally tip it over.

“Now look what you’ve done!” Chuck snapped. He pointed a finger at a nearby servant. “You there. Clean this mess up!”

“Why don’t we dance?” Elaina interceded smoothly. Chuck glowered at her but led her onto the floor. He refused to look at her, and Elaina smiled to herself. A tiny victory, but a victory just the same.

Chuck was a good dancer. She followed him easily and began to relax a little. And he appeared to be regaining his congenial mood, smiling down at her indulgently. Other couples made way for them as they whirled about the floor to the strains of “The Blue Danube Waltz.” Chuck held her so tightly she could feel his sweaty palm through the thin fabric of the lavender silk dress. She focused her attention on the other dancers who dipped and swayed around them, twirling and gliding to the rhythm of the waltz. When the music ended, Chuck gave her up to one of the many men waiting in line to dance with her on the couple’s special night.

As dance after dance ended and a new one began, the evening blurred. Chuck danced with her again, and then a tall, auburn-haired man from Scranton—or was it Allentown?—whisked her around the floor just a beat ahead of the music. She was feeling like a wilted rose by the time they finished and another man stepped into position in front of her. His hand felt warm and sure as he lifted hers and guided her steps in time to the music.

Sky-blue eyes touched her face, and her fatigue melted away. Elaina followed him breathlessly, mesmerized by his gentle yet forceful gaze, her heart pounding in her ears. She knew she should speak, but didn’t trust her voice. Instead she whirled silently around the floor in the arms of the tall, handsome man.

Following his lead, she let herself go, her feet carrying her unerringly, gliding, matching his long-legged stride step for step. As the firm pressure of his strong hands guided her, she thought of the way he’d handled the mare that day in the country and against her will remembered the feel of those hands on her bare breasts. Fighting to control her fevered emotions, she felt a surge of heat rush to her cheeks. When Morgan smiled down at her, his gaze more than warm, she wondered for a moment if he was remembering, too.

“You look lovely tonight, Miss McAllister.” As if in answer to her unspoken question, his eyes drifted to the swell of her breasts.

“Thank you, Mr. Morgan,” she replied with equal formality and was thankful her voice sounded even. She no longer heard the strains of the music, just the pounding of her heart. Were there others still on the floor?

“I’ve been watching you from the porch. There’s not a woman who compares.”

“Thank you” was all she could manage. He smelled faintly of some musky cologne that lingered on the lapel of his immaculate black coat. Dressed as he was, he looked the part of the gentleman, but unlike Chuck Dawson’s classic, almost delicate attractiveness, the sharp angles and planes of Morgan’s face gave him a ruthless quality, an agedness that spoke of some past suffering. There was power in the tiny lines that creased his brow, crinkled at the comers of his eyes. Power and strength and a maleness most men lacked. It fascinated her, drew her to him like a river to a turbulent sea. She missed a step, and he paused.

“You’re tiring. Would you like a breath of air?”

It would be unseemly to walk outside with him, and she knew it. “Yes, maybe just for a moment.” He escorted her out through tall glass-paned doors that opened onto the wide porch at the rear of the hotel.

Outside, the heat of the hall was replaced by a pervasive chill, and the sky had clouded even more. Dense layers rolled and threatened ominously. A flash of lightning, miles away, drew her attention. The rumble was distant, but the storm was moving in their direction. It would mean many of the guests would be departing early and Elaina suddenly felt grateful.

“So you’re going through with it.” Morgan’s deep voice raised the subject she most dreaded.

“Yes,” she whispered, drawn to the tender look in his eyes. How could he affect her so? Why was just being near him such a heady experience? She should go back inside, find Chuck, stay away from this man at all costs.

“You don’t love him.”

“No. I don’t love him.” How could she say that? And to a stranger! Then she thought of the time they’d spent together, his hands on her body, and was glad for the shadows on the porch.

“But you owe him.” Morgan ran a finger along the line of her jaw, and suddenly her knees felt weak.

“I owe his family. That’s the same thing.”

The door opened. She heard a few strains of music as a streak of bright light lit the porch.

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you,” Chuck Dawson’s gruff voice boomed from the doorway. He took in the scene at a glance. “I see you’re in the capable hands of the infamous Mr. Morgan.”

“Miss McAllister was feeling a little light-headed,” Morgan covered smoothly as Dawson approached.

“Yes,” Elaina confirmed. “I didn’t see you, so I asked Mr. Morgan to escort me outside for some air.”

“Then may I extend a thank-you for rescuing my fiancée a second time.” Dawson said the words with a hint of sarcasm, pulling her none too gently beside him. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have other guests to attend to.” With a moist hand at her waist, he guided her back into the dining room and over to a comer.

“Don’t make me have to look for you again,” he warned as he leaned close. “Stay away from Morgan. Do you understand me?”

Elaina nodded. The expression in his eyes had turned brooding again. It brooked no argument. “Yes,” she whispered.

He smiled mechanically. “Shall we dance?”

* * *

The last of the guests departed, hurrying to get home before the storm broke. Some were staying in the hotel and would leave in the morning, but most had elected to return to their own beds. Elaina sighed wearily. Other than the hired help, she and Chuck were the last to leave the hall. He’d been drinking heavily all evening, refusing to allow her escape from the party until every guest had left. Now he insisted on walking her up the two flights of stairs to her room. Elaina was too tired to argue. Eager to be rid of Chuck, undress, and slide beneath the covers, she climbed the stairs and opened the door.

“Good night, Chuck,” she said, pursing her lips to receive his kiss. His mouth came down full force, and he pulled her hard against him. There was nothing tender in the embrace, just a possessiveness that claimed her as his. She broke away and, thanking him for the evening, tried to escape into the privacy of her room. Chuck blocked the way.

“Not tonight, Elaina. I’ve waited long enough.”

An icy dread froze in the pit of her stomach. “We aren’t married yet, Chuck.”

“I’m sick of your excuses. It’s time I made certain you know just whose property you are.” He pushed her into the room and closed the door, then turned the key in the lock.

“Property? Property! I’m not your property or anyone else’s. Get out of here, Chuck, before I scream.”

Chuck just smiled. “Go ahead. Who’s going to hear you? The only ones up here are Morgan and old man Farley. Farley’s hard of hearing. Morgan’s our man. He’s no fool. He’s not about to get involved in a family matter.”

Elaina swallowed hard. A thousand uncertainties flashed through her mind. She could scream. Maybe Morgan would come—maybe not. Or she could let Dawson make love to her. She’d have to let him when the time came anyway. If she gave in now, maybe she could forget Morgan, begin to think of Chuck as the man she would marry.

He was moving toward her.

In an instant she decided—it was worth a try.

Morgan felt exhausted. The evening had been a trying one, though he couldn’t fully comprehend why. Just being around Elaina McAllister, watching her with Dawson, had caused him endless consternation. He’d come to his room to escape the whole affair, try to get some rest, but so far sleep had eluded him. He’d stripped off his coat, vest, and shirt and sprawled on the bed in just his boots and breeches. He had read for a while and was just beginning to feel drowsy when noises in the room next door drew his attention. From years of caution, he poised, listening for signs of trouble.

Determined to respond to Chuck’s romantic assault, Elaina steeled herself. With little concern for her feelings, Chuck pulled her roughly into his arms and covered her lips in a wet, sticky kiss. She could taste stale whiskey and the bitter taste of cigars. Moving his palm to her breasts, he kneaded them coarsely through the light silk fabric of her gown. Elaina felt the bile rise in her throat. Sickened, she swayed against him and a small whimper escaped. Chuck mistook it for passion.

“I knew you wanted it, you bitch,” he slurred in her ear. “Underneath those fancy petticoats, you women are all alike.” The words destroyed the last of her resolve. Panicky, she struggled, her hands pressing futilely against his chest.

Chuck held her fast.

“So now you want to play games?” he taunted. Grinning wolfishly, he exhaled a rush of sour breath. “Nothing I’d like better!”

Roughly he pinned her arms behind her back, and Elaina suffered the wrenching pain.

“Please, Chuck, I can’t,” she pleaded. “Let me go.”

Chuck answered by grabbing the neckline of her lavender gown as well as her chemise and ripping the cloth from her bosom to her navel. Elaina’s full breasts spilled forward above her corset, and a sob caught in her throat. In desperation, she tore her hands free of his grasp and flailed wildly against his chest.

Chuck laughed demonically. “And I was worried you wouldn’t show me enough spirit!” He grabbed her hands again, but she twisted free.

Planting her feet firmly, she balled her slender hand into a fist and hit Chuck hard in the face. Then she ran for the door. Chuck intercepted her. His smile had faded. Blood oozed from a long, thin gash on his cheek where her diamond engagement ring had sliced through flesh.

“That’s the second mistake you’ve made tonight. The first was making eyes at Morgan.” Chuck grabbed her wrist with one hand and slapped her hard across the face with the other. A second slap brought tears to her eyes and the salty taste of blood. Seeing the wild-eyed expression on Chuck’s face, she finally did scream.

And scream and scream and scream.

Morgan seized his Colt and was on his feet in a second, out the door, and into the hall. He cocked the hammer of the big .45, pointing the barrel upward as he cautiously approached the room next to his. Elaina’s door was locked, and the screaming had ceased, but he raised a booted foot and splintered the latch just the same. The door swung wide, slamming solidly against the wall. The sound of heavy breathing filled the silence.

“Get out of here, Morgan. This is none of your affair.”

Only the light streaming in from the hall lit the room, but Morgan recognized Dawson’s shrill voice. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Morgan took in the scene at a glance. Dawson had Elaina pinned beneath him across her narrow bed. Her gown was ripped to her waist, and her skirt was shoved up, exposing her long, slim legs. Her red-brown hair had tumbled loose, leaving damp tendrils clinging to her throat and breasts. Dawson’s hand covered a nipple, and he kneaded if possessively, almost casually, in front of Morgan.

When lightening flashed outside the window, Morgan saw an ugly purple bruise beginning to darken near Elaina’s eye and blood trickling from a comer of her mouth. Tears glistened on her cheeks. Her tawny eyes held the look of a frightened doe.

It took every ounce of Morgan’s will to control his raging temper. “Let her go, Dawson. She’s not your wife yet.”

“You’re making a big mistake, Morgan. You work for us, remember?”

Elaina trembled, fighting Chuck’s heavy, suffocating weight. She could feel his thin fingers biting into the smooth flesh of her shoulders. His other hand fondled her breast, and she burned with humiliation.

“Put that gun away, Morgan,” Chuck demanded.

“Let her go,” Morgan warned, moving a little to the left and out of the bright light of the doorway.

“Brave man, aren’t you? Long as you’ve got a gun in your hand.”

Dawson’s words seemed to test Morgan’s control. He slowly placed the .45 on the seat of a chair.

“All right, Dawson. Now it’s just you and me.”

“I’m through telling you,” Dawson said. “She’s mine. I’ll see to her any way I want.” To prove his point, he slid his hand along her thigh and squeezed her buttocks.

Elaina felt a fresh wave of embarrassment, and a tiny whimper escaped. Through her blurred and spinning vision, she saw Morgan’s cold-eyed expression. Then all hell broke loose.

Morgan dived across the room, the movement so quick Chuck’s hands released their hold. Elaina sucked in sweet breaths of air as Morgan hoisted him off her.