Ruby's Song (Love in the Sierras Book 3) (12 page)

“That sounds suspiciously like a goodbye,” he said, watching her eyes turn sad.

“Well, it might as well be. You’re leaving in four days.”

“Yes, but we’ve the debut and your final performance at
The Museum
. No goodbyes yet, if you please.” A movement behind Marlena drew his attention, and a thought sprang into his head. “Wait here for a moment.”

He darted past her to a vendor’s stall, and heard Marlena’s unabashed laughter when he purchased a candied apple and handed it over. “I seem to remember you having a certain fondness for the treat.”

Her laughter grew as she accepted the apple, filling her nostrils with its sweet scent. She opened her mouth for a bite but then suddenly stalled as her eyes landed on the trees nearby. Dalton followed her gaze to find two little boys crouching behind the trees, staring longingly at the stalls of food and treats. Based on their tattered clothing and the smudges of dirt across their cheeks, he knew they’d likely never sampled something so decadent.

Marlena locked eyes with him. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all.”

She strode over to the tree, and the boys made to scamper, but she held the apple out before them in offering along with her gleaming smile. Words were exchanged but Dalton was too far to hear them. After a long hesitation, the oldest looking boy took the apple with a nod and handed it to the younger for a bite.

When Marlena returned to him, her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “For some reason, they reminded me of my sister and I, especially when the elder let the younger eat first.”

“You must miss your sister a great deal.”

She nodded but said nothing. Before Dalton could offer any words of comfort, the band struck up another song, and he recognized it instantly. A familiar gleam in her eyes told him she remembered it, too. He bowed before her, just as he had five years ago when the same song began at a different festival. “Will you honor me with a dance?”

Her eyes darted around. “Here? In the middle of the festival?”

“Yep.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to refuse, he could tell, but the worry in her eyes soon dissipated and a confident smirk splayed across her lips as she took his hand. There, in the middle of the afternoon surrounded by all manner of decorated snobbery, they danced. He twirled her and she laughed, not giving one whit about her skirt hem rising above her ankles. She seemed carefree and young, but mostly unapologetic, and it pleased him greatly.

“When we danced five years ago,” she said. “It was the moment I thought I fell in love with you.”

The sentiment shook him clear from head to toe as he wondered about his own feelings for her. He’d never felt such a deep and persistent emotion in all of his life. Each day he’d gone without seeing her had been a torment. Each flash of worry or fear or insecurity to play across her eyes filled him with a protective rage, and every smile he wrought from her sweet lips flooded him with the greatest pride.

He had cared for Rosa, even fancied himself full of enough “like” to maybe marry her one day, but as he looked down at the face of the woman in his arms he knew in his being she was the only woman he wanted to dance with. He didn’t belong here, in this life, but neither did she. If he could, he’d take her away from Boston, never looking back.

“Marlena!” Sarah hissed as she marched toward them.

“Oops,” he mumbled. “I think I got you in trouble.”

Sarah grabbed Marlena’s arm, pulling her from Dalton’s grip. “The auction is about to start and nobody is there to bid because they are all gawking at you two.”

They both apologized and sped to the bidding area in Sarah’s wake. Once the auction began, pieces of furniture sold fast and Dalton had a hard time keeping up with the calculations. He stopped adding after twenty thousand dollars. The last piece up for bid was his table.

True to her word, Marlena bid on it, as did several other ladies. The war was on, elevating the price until the table sold to Marlena for over five thousand dollars. Dalton’s legs liquefied and he needed to sit. Five thousand dollars for a table that took him thirty dollars and four days to make! Would that he could make a whole house full furniture and auction it all off.

“Five thousand dollars,” rattled the auctioneer, “for the accent table generously donated by Mr. Dalton Cunningham of New Mexico.”

Gasps and cries, followed by loud murmurings, ensued as all eyes turned toward Dalton. The only one he sought was Marlena. She looked surprised and proud as she began to applaud. Soon, the entire crowd was clapping their hands. Dalton stood and doffed his hat, nodding his thanks.

“Well, well, well,” Marlena said as she came to his side. “Looks like I was right about your skills.”

“Very surprising, Mr. Cunningham,” Sarah said before she turned to Marlena. “We must be going. There is still much to prepare. Good day, Mr. Cunningham.”

She strode off and Marlena flashed him an apologetic face and shrugged her shoulders. “Thank you for my table,” she said with a wink and he grinned.

“See you tomorrow night.”

Chapter 12

Dalton stood in the balcony, watching Marlena shine during her final performance at
The Museum.
He felt a smirk tug at his lips while she danced around on all fours, wearing tan breeches, a white blouse, a horse mask and made jokes about the “jack-asses” in government. She was such a different person in costume. Commanding. Confident. Completely uninhibited, and it filled him with joy. He wished she could harness those traits for her concerts.

Amid the laughter and cheers of the final act, a sudden alertness sprang up inside of him, and his ears strained to hear beyond the crowd. His skin crawled along his spine until the back of his neck tingled. Something was not right. No sooner had the thought entered his mind than the doors of the theater burst open and a string of men armed with clubs filed in, swinging at bodies without distinction of gender or age.

Panic ensued. Screams and calls rang out as bodies fled or fell from the swinging clubs. A woman near the stage took a bashing to the side of her head and went to the ground before an actor leapt from the platform onto the assailant’s back. He was soon flung aside with the force of a heavy blow. Marlena looked up to the balcony and locked eyes with Dalton through the gap in her mask. He saw panic and wide-eyed fear.

“Stay where you are!” he called before turning toward the staircase, but it was blocked by men running toward them with wooden clubs raised high. Patrons on either side of Dalton pushed and punched at the onslaught and Dalton backed away toward the balustrade, trapped. He turned to locate Marlena again.

Fear squeezed his heart when she was no longer on the stage. His eyes scanned rapidly through the sea of bodies, bleeding and billowing faces all seized by the chaos around them. Monkey took a string of blows to the midsection before his wrists were bound and he was carried out. Suddenly, a horse mask appeared, and he sighed in relief until he saw it fly a few feet away, having been knocked off of Marlena’s face by the throw of an elbow.

When her face turned his direction again, bright red blood streaked down her mouth and chin, and he hurled himself over the balcony, landing on a few sturdy pairs of shoulders before tumbling to the ground. He was on his feet in an instant, shoving and pulling bodies apart until he found her again.

She was bent over, clutching her nose and spitting red mouthfuls onto the ground. A pair of men grappled behind her, wrestling close enough to do more damage. Just as one man threw his opponent off, Dalton placed himself in front of Marlena, bracing himself against the wall as the body slammed into his back. He grunted before throwing an elbow to clear the space.

“Marlena!” he called as he brought her to a stand with a tug of her biceps. Her eyes were wide and brimming with tears. “We have to get out of here. Come with me.”

He pulled her toward the exit, but stopped when he felt her fingernails clawing into his arms. When he looked back, she pointed frantically toward the exit, where Elijah Winthrop stood watching the carnage unfolding under his command. Another figure sidled up beside Elijah and Dalton did a double-take at the familiar-looking face.

“This way,” she called and pulled him toward the side wall near the stage. When he looked back again, the man was gone and Dalton returned his attention toward escape. He didn’t ask any questions, just followed when she reached a side panel and threw it open to reveal a hidden door. They ran through it and into a shadowy corridor that led backstage. “Hurry!” she said, running down the hallway. Footsteps echoed from behind them as others had followed their escape. Soon, they pushed through the door and landed in the alley.  

Rather than run out onto the street where bodies still fled and fought, Dalton turned them in the opposite direction, pulling Marlena’s hand at a run until
The Museum
was two blocks behind. Once they slowed, he kept the pace brisk until they turned onto Boylston Street.

“Keep your face down,” he whispered as they passed several people. “It’s covered in blood.”

She obeyed without a word. Worry kept the blood pumping through him at an arresting speed but he needed to get her somewhere out of sight so he could tend to the bleeding. As risky as it was, the only place he could think of was the Haverston Inn, where he and his mother stayed.

They shuffled through the doors and past the curious innkeeper, stomping up the steps. Dalton didn’t stop at his mother’s bedroom door, but banged on it twice as he went by. By the time he had unlocked his room, Juliet was in the hallway, hurrying to his side.

“What’s going on?” she asked as Dalton shut and locked the door behind them, but when Marlena turned to face them, Juliet gasped. “Marlena! What’s happened?”

“Elijah found
The Museum
,” Dalton answered as he sat a stricken Marlena down on the bed. Her eyes were pulled wide and seemingly frozen there. “I need some washcloths.”

Juliet rushed to the washstand as Dalton smoothed Marlena’s hair back from her face. Several blond strands were red with blood. Gently, he cradled her face and tilted her head back, surveying her skin for damage. He didn’t see any lacerations.

“Is it just your nose?” he asked.

Finally, Marlena closed her eyes, massaging them with trembling fingers. “Do you think he saw me?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Dalton said, wishing he had a better answer. “There was a lot going on and we got out of there pretty fast. Are you hurt anywhere besides your nose?”

The blood had already stopped, which was a good sign. Marlena’s eyes opened with a questioning gaze. “My nose? I’m not hurt. I’m fine.”

Juliet handed Dalton the washcloth and he brushed it along her chin, staining the linen red. When Marlena saw the blood she jumped to her feet and ran to the mirror, gasping at the amount of red on her face.

“Oh, my God,” she exclaimed before grabbing a handful of water from the basin and splashing it over her face. Streams of red water poured back into it, but she continued to splash until her face was clean. Then, she studied her reflection, turning this way and that. “There’s nothing,” she announced. “No cuts or anything.”

“It doesn’t look broken or swollen,” Dalton said.

“Does it hurt to touch?” Juliet asked.

Marlena’s fingers pressed gingerly around the appendage. “A little but not too bad.”

Dalton heaved a relieved sigh. “It must have just got knocked enough to make it bleed.” His legs weakened and he sank onto the bed. “Thank God. That could have been so much worse.”

Marlena gazed at him through her reflection, and he watched her eyes fill with anger. “Why would Elijah do something so violent? He could have closed them down peaceably. He didn’t have to hurt people.”

“Control” Juliet said. “Men equate pain and fear with control. He was making an example.”

Silence filled the air as Marlena took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a long moment. When she opened them again, she fingered the strands of her hair that were covered in blood. Her eyes slid down to the white blouse she had on, also dotted with blood.

“What am I going to do?” she asked. “I can’t go home with bloody hair and these clothes on. And what if Elijah knows I was there? If he can bludgeon complete strangers, what will he do to me?”

A shiver shook through her as she crossed her arms over her chest and Dalton went quickly to her, wrapping her in his arms. She sagged into his embrace, and he tightened his grip. “He won’t hurt you,” he said solidly. “He won’t harm a single hair on your head because I’ll kill him if he does.”

Juliet stepped forward. “Let’s both of you calm down,” she said. “Here’s what we’re going to do. I’ll call up a bath and some hot tea for you, Marlena. Let’s get you cleaned up and tremor-free first. Then, we can decide the rest. Sound like an idea?”

Marlena nodded, and Juliet left the room. To Dalton’s relief, Marlena didn’t pull away. He wasn’t ready to let her go. He’d never felt as helpless as he had on the balcony. They hadn’t been far apart, but without his guns, they might as well have been separated by the ocean. Five years of protecting people without issue and he couldn’t even spare Marlena a knock to the face. If it had been a club instead of an elbow…his body shuddered and he tightened his hold on her.

After a long, quiet moment, she spoke against his chest. “During my years in Boston, I’ve felt many things. Excitement, frustration, loneliness, regret. But never fear. I’ve always carried my pistol and life seems much less precarious out here where people put so much emphasis on good behavior. But I’ve never been in a mob situation, and I didn’t have my gun on stage with me and it terrified me.” She took a deep breath. “I’d forgotten how crippling fear is.”

He tightened his arm around her shoulders, hoping to erase all trepidation. “I was afraid, too.”

She looked up at him with a suspicious slant of her head and narrowed eyes. “You didn’t act afraid.”

“Neither did you,” he returned with a grin. “You kept your wits about you and got us out of there.”

“Strange how I didn’t even know my nose was bleeding.”

“In the heat of things our bodies sort of go numb, I think. Not to worry. Your nose is back to its perfect state.”

She giggled. “My nose is perfect?”

Dalton reached down and held her cheeks in his palms, tilting her head back and forth as if inspecting her nose. “I reckon it’s the most perfect one I’ve seen.” She smiled softly, and he continued to hold her face in his hands. His voice took on a more serious tone. “If you decide to go back to the Winthrop house, I’m going with you.”

“What do you mean ‘if’? I
have
to go back there. I don’t have a choice.”

“You could leave with me and Mother. Go back to Virginia City. People there want you.” He swallowed hard. “I...want you.”

The corners of her eyes softened and he could read the hesitation in them. She was considering it, but just as quickly, sadness overtook the sudden brightness and she shook her head. “I can’t. I have to go back to Sarah’s.”

Disappointment washed over him, but he simply nodded. “Then, I’ll go with you and stay until I know you’re safe.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

His eyes held hers and he reveled at how easily she looked at him. No more downcast gazes or nervous flitting. Just a solid, lasting stare. His thumbs began to move along her cheekbones in a subtle caress until they found the plump flesh of her bottom lip and smoothed over it. Her hot breath tickled his skin as she breathed over his fingers. And then he kissed her, not to comfort or cure, but in the words of Pip, he simply found her irresistible.

He drank of her lips, nuzzling in a soft brush until they parted and he drew her upper lip in between his for a soft suckle, then moved to offer the same to her bottom lip. The tip of his tongue slid over the rosy surface, tasting the lasting tang of her blood. She opened her mouth in invitation and he savored the moment, exploring and tasting, stroking her tongue with his.

Her palms slid around his waist and up along his spine, passing over his neck to reach into his hair. He groaned when her fingernails slid along his scalp, and then again when her tongue finally began a bold dance with his. Her passion mirrored his as they pressed their bodies against each other and took greedily what the other offered.

Dalton’s body simmered with desire, blood rushing to his middle until he hardened in his trousers. He could get lost in her kisses, her unabashed exploration and fearless hunger played out by the roaming of her hands. This was the real, unscripted Marlena, the passionate being who craved the warm light of love and not of the world; who sought and gave beauty to a life of cold vacancy; a woman, small of frame yet strong of heart and mind. With their mouths joined, they transcended all man-made divisions and dictates, giving weight to a greater, deeper urge that cared nothing of birth or purse.

The door opened and the kiss ended, though neither of them pulled away. Marlena’s hands remained buried in his hair and his palms still cradled her face. He’d kissed before, but never with such vigor and hope, such relief and certainty. Her eyes smoldered as they peered into his for assurance and confirmation that what they’d just shared was no mistake, that the depths of affection was mutual. A small smile lifted the corners of his mouth, and hers curled in response. No words were spoken. None were needed, not for two people so used to conveying thoughts through their eyes.

Juliet cleared her throat and announced that the bath was ready. Finally, they released their holds on one another and stepped apart. Soon, he was alone in the room, his body still tingling, his heart pulsing with a thicker beat. A commotion drew him to the window where he watched bodies and fire brigade wagons rush toward a giant ball of flame glaring several blocks away. He was glad Marlena wasn’t there to watch
The Museum
burn.

But he did not relish leaving her at the house of the man in charge of such violence. If he was honest, he didn’t relish leaving her at all. His bedroom door opened and shut behind him, and he turned to greet the worried look on his mother’s face.

“So, when did all of this kissing business start between you and Marlena?” she asked.

“Tonight,” he answered, turning his gaze back to the window.

“Dalton,” she urged as she came to his side. “I’ve never meddled in your intimate life before, but Marlena is not Rosa.”