Lover's Gold (8 page)

“More than likely.” Elaina handed a small glass vial to Mary Colson. “This is birch oil. Good for quieting the fever. The dosage is a teaspoonful in a cup of boiling water. Just keep him warm and let him get some rest. I’ll stop by again in a couple of days. If he isn’t better, we’ll have Doc Willowford take a look at him.” Elaina wrote down the dosage and directions and gave them to Mary Colson.

Mary seemed relieved. “We can’t afford to pay Doc’s fees. Can’t really afford for Johnny here to be off work, but gettin’ ’im well is the most important thing. We surely thank ye for comin’ all this way.”

“Will I be well next week, Miss McAllister?” Johnny’s eyes took on an excited glow. “Pa says if I git well quick he’ll take me to the circus. There’s one comin’ to Hazleton. You ever been to a circus?”

Elaina smiled, remembering a time when she’d begged her mother to let her go, but her mother said the circus was dirty and smelly and not the kind of place for a young lady of her upbringing.

“No, I’m afraid I haven’t,” Elaina told him, “but I’ve read all about them, and I’ve always wanted to go. You take your medicine like your mama says, and I’ll bet you’ll be fine in just a few days.” She ran her fingers through his silky red hair and Johnny grinned up at her.

“Thanks for coinin’,” he said. “I was awfully worried ’bout missin’ that circus.”

“It was my pleasure.” She turned her attention to Mary. “Now, how about a cup of that coffee?”

Dan Morgan watched the two women move from the boy’s bedside to the small table in the area that served as the kitchen. He reclined in a thumb-backed rocker, since the boy was stretched out on the settee. There appeared to be only one other room in the house besides the front room— kitchen area, and he assumed that was the bedroom. The women sat at a handmade wooden table covered with a dainty white embroidered tablecloth, probably just for the occasion of Elaina’s visit.

Morgan had enjoyed watching the girl as she worked with the child. She had a way with people; she really cared, and they could sense it. He figured most of her cures were probably a result of her concern as much as her grandma’s herbs.

He wondered if he had a woman, maybe even a child of his own somewhere. He didn’t think so, but his mind kept receiving fuzzy images of another redheaded boy, and he was unable to sort out just who it might be. He continued to feel a sense of familiarity with everything he saw; the feeling even more intense since he’d entered the patch town.

He observed Elaina covertly. From where he sat he could admire the way her dark hair glinted beneath the sun peeking through the open kitchen window. She was a real beauty all right. Mary Colson was filling her in on the local gossip, and her laughter at some outrageous story revealed sparkling teeth between ruby lips that were just a little pouty.

He remembered the warmth of her kiss. It had affected him more than he’d expected. It had been hard to control his urge to open her dress and fill his hands with her high, lush breasts. But his strength had not returned completely, and he didn’t want to frighten her. He saw her laugh again and absently twist a mahogany curl around one long, slim finger. A surge of blood to his loins reminded him of the plans he had for the girl. He wanted her in his bed, but he wanted her there willingly.

On Thursday Morgan sat in the straight-backed chair in his hotel room, his feet propped up on the bureau, his gaze following the milling shoppers on the street below. After their return from the patch town, Elaina had tended him faithfully but had been careful to keep her distance.

Chuck and Henry Dawson had been in and out of his room several times, and Dolph Redmond had come to express his fervent wish to see Morgan back on his feet. There were paybacks due the miners who’d had a hand in Morgan’s injuries, Dolph said. Morgan guessed that was probably the reason Chuck Dawson had allowed Elaina to spend so much time in his company. The three men were hoping he’d get well enough to take revenge on whoever had shot him. Then they’d be able to use the miner’s death as a deterrent to future unrest.

Morgan intended to oblige them, only not quite in the manner the men expected. He was more and more convinced that Elaina had played a role in his injuries, and that suited his conscience just fine. His obsession with bedding the tawny-eyed girl was becoming almost tangible.

It seemed crystal clear to Morgan that Chuck Dawson’s only interest in Elaina McAllister was carnal—just as Morgan’s was. Marrying the girl, Morgan guessed, seemed to Dawson the only way he could satisfy his prurient urges. For all Morgan’s own desire to have the girl in his bed, he knew marriage was out of the question. There was still too much he didn’t know about himself. Besides, a gunman had no place in his life for a woman, much less a wife.

On Friday Elaina stuck her head into his room and announced she’d be returning to the patch town to check on Johnny Colson, and Morgan was welcome to accompany her again—if he promised to behave himself.

Morgan welcomed the occasion.

As it turned out, Johnny Colson was much improved, and Mrs. Colson thanked Elaina by packing a picnic lunch for her and Morgan to enjoy on their way back to town. It seemed a perfect opportunity for what he had in mind.

“Any chance I could talk you into stopping long enough to enjoy this lunch?” He lifted the red checked cloth that covered the wicker basket and sniffed. “The food smells delicious. I don’t know about you, but I’m starved.” He unfastened the top buttons on his shirt and rolled up his sleeves, enjoying the day. The sunshine felt warm against his chest and the back of his neck.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Mr. Morgan.”

“Please, my name’s Dan—or at least that’s what you told me.” The mare clip-clopped along the rural lane, the swaying movement of the buggy almost hypnotic. Purple lupine, gay yellow mustard, and tiny white snowballs rippled in the gentle April breeze.

Elaina smiled. “I’m not sure that stopping is a good idea,
Dan
.”

“You’re not sure. That means you’re not sure it’s a bad idea, either. You’re not still afraid of me, are you?”

“Afraid! Why of all the— I was never
afraid
of you, Mr. Morgan.” Elaina stiffened her spine and clucked the horse into a trot.

“Dan,” he reminded her.

She smiled in spite of herself. “Dan . . . All right. I guess stopping for a little while couldn’t hurt anything. There’s a lovely place up ahead. I used to go there when I was a little girl. I haven’t been back in years. It might be kind of fun.”

“Up around that bend?” he asked, pointing to an opening through the dogwoods.

“Why, yes. How did you know?” She eyed him suspiciously.

“Just a lucky guess,” he lied. In truth he had no idea how he knew. He just did.

The buggy jounced along the dirt road until Elaina turned down a narrow path heavily overgrown with honeysuckle. Tiny bees worked the white blossoms that filled the air with their sweet fragrance. She knew she shouldn’t be going alone with a man to such a secluded place, but her life had been so dull these past few years, and the challenge had clearly been laid down. Besides, she’d been able to handle Morgan before. This time would be no different. She might even let him kiss her again. After all, she wasn’t
officially
engaged yet.

Morgan’s wounds appeared to be healing nicely. He was able to climb down from the buggy on his own, though he tore his white shirt in the process. The gaping hole revealed taut muscle over rib and conjured unladylike thoughts in Elaina’s mind.

She spread the blanket near a small stream, remembering all the times she’d come to the spot as a child. She and Tommy Daniels had discovered it, and except for showing Ren, they’d kept it their secret.

“There’s a cave over there.” She knelt on the blanket and pointed through the trees. “It’s got Indian writing on the wall.”

“Great. Let’s go take a look.” He extended a hand to her.

“No!” she answered too quickly. “I mean . . . we haven’t got that much time.” She glanced away. “Besides, I don’t like dark places.”

He looked at her oddly, then shrugged his shoulders. “Suit yourself.” Lowering himself onto the blanket, he stretched out his long legs and made himself comfortable.

“So you sneaked up here without your mother knowing,” he teased, and Elaina was glad he’d forgotten about the cave. “Pretty far from home for a little girl, weren’t you?”

Elaina glowered. “You men. Why is it all right for boys to have adventures but not for girls?” She picked up his black hat, which he’d set on a corner of the blanket, and threw it at him in mock anger.

Morgan smiled ruefully, catching the hat easily and setting it aside. “Such a spitfire. I like a woman with fire.” His blue eyes danced mischievously as he shifted his weight on the blanket, moving a little closer at the same time.

They broke into the lunch and ate heartily, licking the chicken from their fingers, childlike, then ate apple pie for dessert.

“That was delicious.” Morgan wiped his hands on the delicately embroidered napkin Mary had provided. “Mary Colson’s quite a cook.” Again he moved closer.

“Yes, she is,” Elaina agreed. For the first time she realized just how close he was.

“Are you?”

“Better than most,” she said honestly, beginning to feel more than a little uncomfortable at his nearness. His open shirt revealed the black hair curling against his smooth dark skin, and her heart began to pound.

“I’ll just bet you are.” Morgan ran a finger down the line of her jaw, evoking a tiny tremor. She was finding it extremely difficult to ignore the man with the fascinating sky-blue eyes.

“I think I must like good food and good wine,” he said, continuing his lazy perusal.

And probably bad women, Elaina added to herself. “I believe whatever else you turn out to be, Mr. Morgan— Dan—you’re a man of good taste.”

“And you’re a very beautiful woman.”

His hand played absently with her arm, creating several new tremors. She forced her attention toward a bushy-tailed squirrel who whistled his displeasure at the intruders, then scampered to the far side of a massive hickory trunk.

“Tell me why you’re marrying a man like Dawson,” Morgan said gently.

Seeing what appeared to be genuine concern, Elaina felt compelled to answer. “I owe him. My family and I owe him. My father used to own the Blue Mountain Mine. There were several accidents, fires, unforeseeable disasters. The mine kept losing money, so my father took on Redmond and Dawson as partners. Eventually he gave them complete control. Conditions became unsafe; people were killed, and my father felt responsible. He began to drink heavily, and the debts mounted. When he couldn’t stand the pressure anymore, he killed himself.” Elaina felt a lump in her throat. “My mother died not long after.”

She didn’t know she was crying until Morgan reached over and gently brushed a tear from beneath her lashes with the tip of his finger.

“That must have been a terrible time for you.”

“It was. I had no place to go. No relatives.” She looked down. “Henry Dawson provided for me. Helped me when no one else would. Now it’s time to pay him back. He wants me to marry his son, and that’s what I intend to do.” Morgan felt the strangest need to comfort her. It was all he could do to keep from pulling her into his arms and kissing away her tears. Again he felt the urge to protect her at all costs. The thought both startled and confused him. He was a gunman. He was not allowed to indulge in those kinds of feelings.

“Maybe you won’t have to marry him,” he said, uncertain why he’d said it. He cupped her chin with his hand and covered her lips with a gentle kiss. She didn’t fight him, and her tender response made him harden with desire. He deepened the kiss and felt her melt against him, parting her lips to allow him entrance. He tasted the sweetness of apples and smelled her lavender scent, and the feel of her supple body sent a fresh surge of blood to his loins.

It’s only a kiss, she told herself, as she had before. I have just this one chance to know the kiss of a man I desire before my life belongs forever to a man I can barely abide. She reveled in the touch of Morgan’s warm lips and gave herself up willingly to the excitement he stirred.

Shivers ran down the length of her. His lips were firm, full, and insistent, his tongue hot, moist, and searching, probing the inside of her mouth. She entwined her fingers in his thick dark hair and slid her arms around his neck. He nibbled her ear, then moved down her neck to her shoulders. She could feel her nipples harden against the soft material of her dress. She felt hot and languid and at the same time tense and shivery. It was more than she’d bargained for.

Morgan kissed her thoroughly, deeply, his hand sliding down her back to the curve of her hip, then up to tease her nipple. She could feel the heat of his wide palm, even through the fabric. She knew she should stop him. She had to stop him. She felt a button at her back pop free, and still she could not tear herself away. He was kissing her passionately, insistently, using his hands and his tongue and his mouth. As if by magic, the buttons of her dress were popping free.

Now. Now. She had to stop him now! She felt the cool breeze against her skin and knew her dress was open. She felt the straps of her chemise slide down, baring her breasts to his gaze. He paused a moment to look at her, his hands cupping, kneading the fullness, his light eyes darker than before. She’d seen that look in Chuck Dawson’s eyes, but in him it had repulsed her. Now it excited her beyond all reason. She pushed meekly against Morgan’s broad chest, moaning with the heat, the power he held. Dear God, please let him stop.

He kissed her again while he used his body to press her gently but firmly down on the blanket. She could feel the hard muscles of his back beneath her hands, the corded muscles of his thighs against her legs, and the stiffness of his manhood. When his lips touched the crest of her nipple, she knew there was no turning back. Elaina moaned softly. The heat of her desire was beyond any reckoning, any reason. She had played a game of fire and lost. Now Morgan fanned the flames with his every movement. He kissed each breast, circled the peak with his tongue, then surrounded it with his lips, tugging on it gently. She heard his husky groan of anticipation as he shoved her dress up over her thighs, and she felt weak, powerless to stop him.