Lover's Gold (31 page)

He pulled her to her feet, pushed the dress down over her hips, and left her standing in only her chemise and lacy pantalets. When his skillful fingers unstrung her corset, she still did not move. Like a statue, she let him finish undressing her. Only when she was naked to his gaze, her sable hair freed to tumble about her shoulders, did he raise his eyes to her face.

His hand shook and his mouth was set in a grim line as he wiped the tears from her cheeks. She felt his muscular arms lifting her up. Resigned to her fate, unwilling to say no to him, not wanting to hurt him as Ren had hurt her, she let him carry her into the bedroom.

When he reached the bed, he pulled back the quilt, then lowered her gently, covering her lips in a feather-light kiss. Then he pulled the satin comforter over her naked, trembling body.

He watched her a moment in silence then: “Not like this, Elaina. Never like this.”

She thought she heard a catch in his voice as he stepped away from the bed. Beneath a wave of guilt, she closed her eyes and sank into her pillow, listening as he closed the door softly behind him. Hearing his heavy footsteps on the thick Tartan carpet, then the click of the door as he left, she broke into deep racking sobs.

It was well past midnight before Ren was able to quietly excuse himself and make his way out of the mansion. He needed some time to himself. What he really needed, he admitted, was a way to salve his conscience for his cruel treatment of Elaina. Tommy had taken the carriage, so he drove through the city in a rented hack. He paid the driver handsomely to haul him aimlessly through the quieting city streets, but his mind kept straying to the woman who again tonight had captured his mind and heart. It seemed they were fated to torture each other, just as he was being tortured now.

He knew where she was staying; the paper had reported that she was residing in the grand manner in the presidential suite at the Palace Hotel. She’d come a long way from the tiny rooms above Hoffman’s General Mercantile and an even longer way from her shabby quarters on the third floor of the Hotel Keyserville.

The carriage rounded a corner and headed up California Street before Ren noticed his surroundings. The hotel loomed ahead. On the top floor Elaina McAllister would be resting in a deep feather mattress. Was Chase lying beside her? The thought twisted like a knife. He didn’t want to believe it, wouldn’t let himself believe it.

The urge to go to her raged strong. Elaina had come to San Francisco to find him, he told himself, and she had gone to the Stanhope mansion in order to see him again. It was obvious she wanted him just as much as he wanted her. Why should he deny himself? Deny her? He wasn’t married yet, and even after his wedding he would need someone to care for his needs. He was through with Carolina Williams, had been for some time. In fact he could hardly imagine what he’d seen in the feather-headed woman to begin with.

The horse’s hooves drummed a rhythm on the stone streets, carrying him nearer the hotel. Tonight he’d warned Elaina in no uncertain terms what would happen if she stayed in San Francisco, but maybe that was what she really wanted. The thought of having her as his mistress, spending nights in her warm, inviting arms, sent the blood pulsing through his veins.

“Take me to the Palace,” he ordered, knowing what he was doing was wrong but unable to stop himself.

He knew the night clerk at the front desk. Timothy O’Banyon owed him a favor—several, in fact—and tonight he would collect. It took little persuasion to obtain the key to the suite and information that the lady was within, apparently alone: The gentleman who had escorted her to her room had left some time ago.

Ren breathed a sigh of relief. He thanked Timothy and assured him he’d tell no one how he’d obtained the key. His heart raced as he walked purposefully down the wide carpeted hall on the top floor of the hotel to the double mahogany doors at the end. Feeling a moment of indecision, he paused; then, as if he had no choice, he inserted the key in the lock.

A gentle click, a turn of the knob, and he stepped inside the elegant suite. His excitement grew, along with his desire, just at the thought she was near. God, how could a woman hold such power over him? He opened the door to the huge bedroom and spotted Elaina’s slim form curled beneath a satin coverlet. As he pulled the door closed, he noticed that the moonlight streaming through the window gave a silver glow to Elaina’s skin. He caught his breath at the picture of loveliness she made. Her sable hair glistened on her pillow. Her ruby lips were slightly parted as she slept.

He unbuttoned and loosened his collar, then shed his jacket and boots and shrugged off his shirt.

With a tiny gasp, Elaina bolted upright in the bed. “Chase? Is that you?”

The sound of the man’s name sent sparks of fury through Ren’s veins. “Sorry to disappoint you. Were you expecting him?” If he’d had doubts before, they were gone with Elaina’s words.

“You!” she cried, her eyes adjusting to the dim light in the room. “How did you get in here? Get out this instant or I swear I’ll scream for help.”

“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” he warned. “Not unless you want to headline the morning edition of the
Alta California
.”

“What do you want?” Elaina asked, already feeling a little breathless. Muscles rippled across his hard torso, and dark hair curled in a V on his chest. Fighting a wave of desire, she licked her lips. What in God’s name was the matter with her? The man was nothing but a cad. He would say or do anything to get what he wanted; he’d proved that again and again. Yet here she was, yearning for his touch, her body already on fire with wanting him. As she watched him casually remove the remainder of his clothing, a tiny moan of anticipation escaped, and she cursed herself for her weakness.

“Get out of here,” she whispered, but he only moved closer. She could feel the weight of his body as he made room for himself on the bed.

“I want you, Elaina, more than I’ve ever wanted another woman. I can’t get enough of you.” He wound a finger in one of her shiny curls. “All I can think about, dream about, is holding you, making love to you. I need you, Elaina.”

She moaned at his words, knowing she was already damp and aching for him. “Please, Ren,” she pleaded. “You were right and I was wrong. I shouldn’t have come to San Francisco. I’ll go someplace else. I’ll leave tomorrow.”

“It’s too late, Elaina. I can’t fight it anymore. You’re mine. You were mine from the start. You always will be.” He stroked her cheek gently.

“Never,” she whispered, tearing herself away. “I won’t let you use me again. I’ll fight you.”

He hauled her against him. “It’s useless, Elaina. You want me just as much as I want you. Your body betrays you”—he stroked the hard bud of her nipple, already stiff and eager for his touch—“even if your mind says no.” Unwilling to admit the truth of his words, she lashed out at him with her fist, determined to hurt him, determined to prove him wrong. He caught her wrist easily, pressed her into the mattress, and rolled on top of her.

“No,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. She felt his hardened shaft and wanted it inside her, though the heat of humiliation raced through her veins.

“Yes, Elaina. You want it, and so do I.”

Thrashing against him, she struggled, fighting the heavy, hot burden of his body. This time she wouldn’t give in. She wouldn’t allow herself to betray everything she’d been taught to honor. She tore her hand free and raked her nails across his chest, wanting to hurt him, wanting to punish him for the things he made her feel.

Again he caught her wrist, then gently but firmly restrained both of her hands above her head.

“Don’t fight me, Elaina. It’s a battle you can’t win.” As if to prove his point he lowered his mouth to the peak of her nipple, and she moaned with the jolt of desire.

She could feel his strength, the power he held, but she also sensed his tenderness. You can’t give in, she told herself. He’ll have to force you. But even as she said the words she recognized them for the lies they were. He kissed her with maddening skill, subdued her with his masterful hands, stroked her, teased her, until her struggles became more a caress than an attempt to keep him away.

How she wanted him. Burying her fingers in his thick black hair, pulling him closer, she clutched him against her breast, begging him to ease the burning ache in her loins. He filled her slowly, with agonizing deliberateness, proving his mastery as no other could. She clawed his back and cried his name as he lifted her hips and drove himself into her. She matched his every pounding thrust. The heat of her desire burned so bright she felt she might turn to ash. The fierce flames ravaged her, devoured her. She called his name over and over, then spoke the words she denied even to herself—“I love you. I love you.”

She forgot her sorrow, the pain in her heart, forgot all but the pleasure he gave. The pounding, pulsing rhythm of their coupling lifted her; then a thousand tiny shards of sweetness lanced her with violent, joyous stabs of delight. She was lost in her pleasure, consumed by her bliss. Ren reached his own powerful, shuddering climax. Then he kissed her gently, nuzzling her neck, and holding her against him.

They were quiet for a while. She wondered if he’d heard the words she’d whispered in her passion and wished she could call them back. She couldn’t afford to let him know how vulnerable she was, couldn’t give him more power over her than he already had. She felt his warm lips against the place below her ear.

“I love you, too, Elaina. I have almost from the start. Sometimes I think I’ll die of loving you.”

The words sent delicious tremors the length of her. God how she’d yearned to hear them. She turned to face him, unsure what to say. Tears gathered in her eyes, and her heart ached worse than before. “But not enough to marry me.” He rolled away, swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and sat up. “Jacob’s dying,” he said softly.

“Oh, no.”

“His one wish is to see his daughter cared for properly. I can’t refuse him.”

She could see the anguish in his eyes, though his words sounded brittle. Only tonight she had wished with all her heart she could hear him say he loved her. Now that he had, the words seemed hollow, empty somehow. What did it matter if he loved her, if they had to remain apart?

“Stay with me, Lainey. I’ll find us a place . . . along the coast somewhere. A place where we can be together.”

“And what of your marriage?” she asked, trying to read the tension in his expression.

“It’ll be a marriage in name only. A marriage of convenience.”

She remembered those same words spoken by someone else only the week before, and the words twisted her heart. “That’s what Carolina Williams said.”

“Forget her. She means nothing to me. She never has. You mean everything.” He ran a gentle finger down the line of her jaw.

The words swayed her. She loved him so. “But Jacob must want heirs? Someone to carry on the Stanhope name?” He glanced away, no longer willing to meet her eyes. “Yes,” he admitted. “I’ve promised him that.”

“Oh, God, Ren,” she whispered, her voice an agony of despair. A sob escaped, and she buried her face in her pillow. He pulled her into his arms and held her as she cried against his chest.

“Please don’t cry. I didn’t come here to make you cry.”

“Don’t you see? It could never work. Not for you, not for Melissa, not for me. I can’t live that way, sharing you with another woman, eventually sharing you with your family. And what of the children / would conceive? They’d be . . . they’d be—”

“Elaina, stop it.”

She jerked away. “Bastards, Ren. Our children would be bastards. I won’t have it. It wouldn’t be fair, don’t you see?” He pulled her back into his arms and stroked her hair as she sobbed out her grief.

“You make it sound so dirty, like the worst thing in the world. But it isn’t like that between us. It never has been.” He tilted her chin up and forced her to look at him. “Lots of people have arrangements. At least we could be together. Promise me you’ll think about it.”

She knew what her answer would be, but he was here with her now, and she wanted him again already. She wouldn’t spoil the short time they had.

“I’ll be gone tomorrow,” he told her. “I have some business to attend to. I’ll be back in the city on Wednesday afternoon. We can talk about it then.”

She nodded, unable to trust her voice. He kissed her softly, reassuringly, as if he wanted her to feel his love. Then, as always, the kiss became demanding, and she gave herself up to the burning fire that carried them into the night.

Chapter 22

D
OLPH
R
EDMOND FLIPPED
the towheaded boy a coin, waited for him to close the door behind him, then opened and scanned the wire: “Found the girl. No sign of Morgan. Time running thin. Delay closing. Will get her to Keyserville as soon as possible. Chuck.”

Damn! A delay in closing the sale on the mine! That was the last thing he needed. Everything else was going as planned: The Anthracite Mining and Colliery Company still wanted the property and all was in order. The only thing they needed was control of Elaina’s shares. Damn! The woman had always been nothing but trouble. He handed the wire to Henry Dawson.

“Looks like your boy’s found her all right,” he told Henry, “but he’s still got to get her here.” They were sitting in the inner office of the Hotel Keyserville, Dolph Redmond in his chair, his feet, as usual, propped up on his desk. The sun had just risen, and the day looked cloudy.

“He’ll git her here all right. You can always count on Chuck when the chips is down. Jus’ like his mama when it comes to that.”

“Well, he’d better. This sale will make us all rich. We can’t afford to louse it up.” He drew on his thin cigar. “Chuck was right about one thing—we should have forced the marriage years ago. You and your damned sentimentality, Henry. You always were a soft touch for a pretty face.” Henry just grunted. “It’ll only be a two-week delay. We’ve waited years fer this. A couple more weeks ain’t gonna hurt.”

“I suppose not, but I’ll feel a lot better after she’s married to Chuck.”