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Nash cried out.

“Give me your money.”

“What!”

Rhine pulled his Colt and placed it against his temple. “Your money. She said you robbed her.”

Nash's face widened with fear. “The bitch is lying!”

Rhine eased the hammer back. “I say she isn't. Give me your money!”

He quickly surrendered. “Okay!”

Rhine stepped back. Nash fumbled through his pockets and with a shaking hand offered up fifty dollars in bills and coins.

“Where's the rest?”

“A man's gotta live.”

“By preying on women and leaving them to die in the desert!”

Nash wouldn't meet his eyes.

“I want you out of town right now.”

“You can't make me leave. Why're you so worked up over a nigger woman anyway?”

The fist that exploded in Nash's face put him back on the floor. “Be out of Virginia City by sundown,” Rhine said icily. “Or I'll hunt you down like a rabid dog.”

Rhine collected his payment from the shocked Lady Ruby and exited the Silver Palace without further word.

On the ride back to the Union, his encounter with Nash made him glad he'd stepped away from his race. As a man of color he would never have been able to champion Eddy the way he had; not without threat of arrest or a noose.

T
hat evening, Eddy was in the kitchen making the dough for the dinner rolls she'd be offering with Sunday's dinner. With the steadily increasing numbers of people showing up to eat, she hoped tripling the batch would allow each diner to have two rolls to accompany their meal of roast chicken and vegetables. She'd already cut up and seasoned the chicken pieces and they were resting in large roasters in the cold box. She still had a few cakes to ice, but overall her work was just about done for the day. Sylvia had gone over to Vera's for their weekly Saturday night card game. August was spending his evening with Cherry. Miner Gabe Horne was working the midnight shift, and she had no idea where the always boastful Whitman Brown was, nor did she care. All that mattered was she had the house to herself for the evening. Once she was done in the kitchen, her plan was to draw a bath, soak away the day's tension and the large bruise blooming on her forearm from Nash's unwanted attentions, and generally relax ahead of what would be a busy Sunday.

With the dough done, she divided it up, placed each soft mound in a bowl, and covered the bowls with clean, flour-­dusted towels so the dough could rise undisturbed overnight.

Taking out more butter and sugar so she could make the icing for the cakes, a knock on the back door made her look up. It was dark so she had trouble seeing who was there. Wiping her hands on a towel, she walked over and saw Rhine standing under the light. She'd spent the balance of the day trying to convince herself that he'd not make good on his promise to stop by and see about her. With it being Saturday night, she was certain he'd be far too busy with his saloon. She was wrong. She drew in a deep calming breath. “Rhine.”

“I came to check on you.”

“Thank you. I'm fine.”

“I just wanted to make sure.”

As the night echoed around them, they studied each other through the screen. Common sense dictated she send him on his way, but instead she heard herself ask, “Would you like to come in?”

“I would.”

By inviting him in, she was aware that she was opening herself up to whatever might come to pass, but she was determined to keep the walls she'd built around herself erect and intact. She stepped back so he could enter. His eyes brushed hers, and the air in the room seemed to warm and thicken. “Sit if you care to. I'm in the middle of icing cakes for tomorrow's dinner and I need to finish.”

“Thank you. What kind?” he asked, taking a seat in one of the chairs.

She was determined to keep the atmosphere light. “Two gold. Two silver. We sell them by the slice.”

As conscious of his presence as she was of her own breathing, she whipped the sugar and butter and added the sweet milk a bit at a time until the icing reached the proper consistency.

“Why'd you invite me in?”

The quiet tone of his voice stroked her like a hand, but she chuckled softly, “Because you obviously don't take no for an answer.”

“There is that.”

“Also, it's dark. You were discreet enough to come to the back door. I'm also here alone. Both of which will hopefully save me from the gossips.” She began frosting the cakes, all the while telling herself she wasn't nervous.

“You do that well.”

“Years of practice. As I may have told you before, my mother was a cook.” As she moved on to the second cake, she saw him reach into his coat and extract some money. She froze. “And that is for?”

“I convinced Nash to return the money he stole from you and he gave me all he had.”

She relaxed. “Oh.”

“What's wrong?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. Thank you.”

“Did you think I was trying to buy your services?”

She told the truth. “Yes.”

“You're not a whore, Eddy.”

“I know that but I wasn't sure you did.”

He sat back. “Damn woman.”

She shrugged. “Like you said: hard nut to crack. I've no experience with a man like you, Rhine, or truthfully, any man.” She looked away. She was a novice at this and he needed to know that.

“Will you at least give me a chance to prove myself?”

“To what end? A few days ago you were engaged to marry, and now you want me to believe you're genuinely interested in me as something other than a dalliance.”

A smile played around his lips. “You don't plan to make this easy, do you?”

“Why should I?”

“As long as you don't take a bottle to my head, I think I can handle the challenge.”

It was her turn to smile. “My mother said I get my temper from my grandmother. She was sold twelve times during slavery because she never met a slave owner she could abide. She was whipped a lot because of that.” It suddenly occurred to Eddy that she was talking to a man who may or may not have been a slave owner. “Sorry. I probably shouldn't be discussing such a subject with you.”

“No. It's okay. Your grandmother sounds like quite a woman. What else do you know about her?”

Eddy smoothed more icing over the cake with her wide-­bladed knife. “She was supposedly an African queen.”

He stiffened.

“You think that's absurd, don't you?”

“Not really,” he said, eyeing her keenly. “Anything is possible I suppose. Does that mean I should bow to you each time we meet.”

“Yes.”

They shared a smile.

On a more serious note, she asked, “Do you think I'll be arrested if Nash presses charges?”

“No.”

“I hit a man not of my race over the head with a bottle. That's grounds for jail.”

“You were defending yourself.”

“In many places that doesn't matter.”

“I was a witness, Eddy, and so was Lady Ruby. He deserved it. You won't be arrested. I promise.”

“You have that much influence?”

“Frankly, yes, and besides he's left town.”

“How do you know?”

“After I relieved him of the money, I suggested doing so might be in his best interest.”

She paused. “You didn't threaten him, did you?”

“If you call putting a gun to his head and promising to track him down like a rabid dog threatening him, guilty as charged.”

That left her speechless.

“So, I don't think he'll be pressing charges, and I'd already spoken to Sheriff Howard the day after we found you in the desert. Stopped by again today to give him Nash's description. He plans to wire other lawmen in the area just in case Nash surfaces again.”

Eddy found it hard to believe how much he'd gone out of his way for her.

“Surprised?”

“Yes.”

“Not all men who look like me are like Nash, Eddy. Some of us are honorable.”

“Were you a slave owner?”

“No. Were you slave born?”

She shook her head and said, “No. My parents were freed by their owner in Kentucky right before they married.”

“A love match?”

“Oh, absolutely. They loved each other immensely.” What she didn't say was that they loved each other so much that when their bodies were found they were entwined beneath the wagon where'd they sought shelter from the storm—­apparently in an effort to keep each other warm. “Did you love your fiancée?”

He shook his head. “It was more of a business arrangement, at least on my part.”

She found that surprising, too, and wondered if Natalie shared that view. “If I ever marry—­and I doubt I will at my age now—­I want the kind of love my parents shared. Did your parents love each other?”

He whispered, “No.”

Eddy studied him. The one word reply seemed to resonate with pain and sadness. Had either of his parents loved him? She'd felt the love of her parents every day of her life and in many ways still did. She wondered what his childhood had been like.

“Thank you for the marmalade.”

She sensed he'd deliberately changed the subject. “You're welcome. I told Jim I'd teach him to make his own for you.”

“I prefer yours.”

“It's the same recipe,” she said, looking up from frosting the top of the last cake.

“Doesn't matter.”

“Why not?”

“Are you really that innocent?”

Eddy saw soft amusement overlaying the hunger in his eyes, and the bricks in her wall shook slightly. “Yes, and no, I suppose.”

“With yours, I want to put it on your lips and spend the night tasting it.”

Eddy swayed. Cracks crawled up her wall's foundation.

“And if that isn't clear enough. I want you, Eddy Carmichael, in a way that has nothing to do with race, but everything to do with me being a man and you being a beautiful woman.”

Her hand shook so intensely she almost dropped the knife.

He stood and walked over to her side. Once there, he gently raised her chin. Time slowed. Needing to take a stand, even as his declaration rattled her to her core, she whispered, “I can't give you what you want.”

“I know, little queen . . . so let me kiss you and I promise I'll go.”

She knew she should tell him no, but curiosity, yearning, and emotions that had no name conspired with those little shoots of hope to keep her from denying him and herself. He lowered his mouth to hers and the kiss was so masterful and overwhelming, the knife slid slowly from her fingers to the floor. As he eased her closer, the heat of his body and the way his lips fit so sensually against her own was new, wondrous, and oh so glorious. She thrilled to the soft seeking of his tongue, the faint scent of his cologne and the gentle yet possessive pressure of his arm against her back. Soon she was drowning in emotions so riotous and breathtaking, she forced herself to take a step back and out of the embrace in order not to offer him more.

Branding her with his eyes, he reached out and slowly traced her lips. “I want another, but I gave you my word that I would go.”

Eddy was so enthralled, she had no words. What was it about this man that made her lose herself so completely and toss logic to the wind? Parts of her wanted him to stay, and for a woman who'd always known up from down and right from wrong, it was terrifying.

He stroked her cheek. “Good night, darlin'.”

And then he was gone.

Later, after her bath, as Eddy lay in bed in the dark, she wondered if Sylvia knew of a nearby insane asylum she could check herself into. That she'd gone temporarily mad had to be the reason she'd let him kiss her, and heaven help her, want more. She touched her lips and the memory made them tingle. Did all men kiss with such intensity? Having no answer, she hoped now that he had kissed her, he would be content and move on. Truthfully, she found that not much to her liking because it would prove that he'd only been toying with her, just as she'd suspected, but the fiery encounter left her mind and senses so muddled she didn't know what she wanted—­except more of his kisses, a shameless part of herself crowed. Uttering a loud groan, she punched her pillow, turned over and hoped the drumming sounds of the mine equipment would lull her to sleep before sunrise.

Chapter Thirteen

T
he sun was just coming up when Rhine finally entered his apartments above the saloon. Saturday night was always the Union's busiest, and after all the revelry and noise, he looked forward to some peace and quiet and grabbing a few hours of sleep. As he removed his tie and began undressing, his thoughts turned to Eddy. She'd been on his mind since leaving Sylvia's, but only now did he have the luxury of fully reviewing the encounter. She'd admitted to having no experience with men and he'd tasted that reticence in the kiss, but as the intensity took hold, he'd also tasted a hidden wellspring of passion any man would want to coax to the fore, and he was selfish enough to want to be that man. Her innocence made her ripe for seduction. All he need do was let passion overwhelm her and she'd be his, but he had more honor than that. He wanted the little queen to come to him of her own free will; wanted to hear her whisper his name as he slowly undressed her, tease her with his touch until she lay twisting in his bed and then feel her damp heat sheath him while they made love until they were both too sated to move. But the only proper way to turn fantasy into reality was to court her, and in light of the barriers that stood between them, he had no idea how to go about it. At least not presently.

Nude, he climbed into bed, and in the dark she continued to hold his thoughts. Hearing her say she was descended from a queen had stopped his breathing. With the blood of queens flowing through his own veins he'd appreciated the irony. Had the Old Queens placed her in his life as a cruel joke? Was he being tested to decide once and for all who he wanted to be? Or was she a temptation he was supposed to gird himself against? He'd never been this baffled by his feelings for Natalie. Never once had he gone to bed craving to see her as soon as the sun rose, but he felt that way about Eddy. She believed in love, something he knew nothing about because other than Andrew and his wife, he'd never witnessed it. Although his mother Azelia bore two children, she certainly hadn't loved or been loved by Carson Fontaine, and Carson's obsession with Azelia had fostered only bitterness and anger from his wife Sally Anne. There'd been no love there. Rhine assumed he'd been loved by his mother, but he couldn't swear by it. He'd been only a bit past five years old when she died, and sadly, he didn't remember her. Turning his thoughts away from that loss and the immensely painful knowledge of how and why she'd died, his mind shifted back to Eddy.

How could he ensure a future that included her? There was the mistress route, but she'd never agree and he'd never ask. He supposed his only options were to either leave her be, which he'd already eschewed, or grab the bull by the horns and turn his life upside down. Truthfully it was probably the only way she'd accept him and his feelings. But that choice was a difficult one filled with immeasurable ramifications, including turning his back on nearly everything he'd built since coming west. That he'd even be contemplating such a drastic move was scary, but to not have her in his life was scarier. He had no clear vision of what he should do but he had to make a decision—­soon.

“
E
ddy, there's a line of fifty people waiting outside!”

Eddy looked up into Sylvia's startled face and took a quick glance around the kitchen at the food she and Maria and her sons were preparing to plate. “We don't have enough to serve that many, Sylvia.”

“I know, but what a wonderful dilemma to have.”

Eddy wasn't so sure. She didn't like the idea of not being able to feed the people who'd come counting on a meal. “Do you have a plan?”

“Other than turning some folks away, no.”

Eddy didn't like that either.

“If the Sunday numbers keep rising, we may need to hire more help and enlarge the dining room. In the meantime, I need to go back out and see how many more I can fit inside.”

As she left the kitchen, Maria removed a large pan of done rolls from the oven. “People love your cooking, Eddy,” Maria said.

“I'm glad, but I don't want any hard feelings from those who'll be turned away.” That said, she went back to mashing potatoes.

Usually Eddy and Maria's tasks were putting the food on the plates while Maria's sons took the orders out to the diners, but due to the day's extra large crowd, the women had to do both. Eddy had been warned about the number of people, but when she stepped into the dining room carrying a plate in each hand the sheer volume shocked her. There were miners sitting on the floor along the walls. The room held fifteen people comfortably but Sylvia had somehow managed to shoehorn in so many more that there wasn't room left to turn around. The people lined up outside waiting to get in reached as far as the eye could see. Squeezed into the far side of the room was an old trestle table taken from the storage building out back. Where Sylvia had gotten the benches for it to provide the seating, Eddy didn't know, nor did she have time to dwell on it. There was too much to do. She and the Valdez family raced back and forth between the kitchen and the dining room setting down filled plates and removing the empty ones. Luckily there were no menus, folks got whatever Eddy cooked, so they didn't have to waste time waiting for the diners to make up their mind. The offerings were chicken, mashed potatoes, sweetened carrots, and rolls. The only choice allowed was the cake. Silver or gold. When Eddy first began working for Sylvia, those who came to eat on Sundays would often linger over their meals and spend time chatting with diners at tables nearby, but not this day. Sylvia was moving about the room politely doing her best to encourage people to eat quickly so those waiting outside could take their place.

Dinner was served from two p.m. until four p.m., and by four-­thirty when the last satisfied customers paid their bills and departed, a weary Eddy dropped into a kitchen chair. She was hot, sweaty, and her feet ached. Luckily, she'd had the foresight to put food aside for herself and the Valdez family, otherwise they would've gone hungry because there wasn't a scrap left.

Sylvia joined them while they ate. “We made another pile of money today. Eddy, you are a gold mine.”

She smiled tiredly.

Sylvia turned to Maria and her sons. “And we couldn't have done this without you and your sons, Maria. Thank you.”

She, too, offered a tired smile. “We need more help, Sylvie.”

Sylvia nodded. “We do. I'll ask around town tomorrow. If you know anyone who might be interested, have them come see me.”

“I will.”

Once they finished eating, everyone pitched in to clean up and then the Valdez family went home.

“I think I'm going to draw a bath and relax for the rest of the evening,” Eddy said. She really wanted to get off her feet.

“You've earned it,” the pleased Sylvia said.

But before Eddy could leave the kitchen, there was a knock on the back door. Sylvia went to investigate. “Why, Zeke,” she said, turning and smiling knowingly at Eddy. “What brings you here? As if I didn't know.”

He entered the room, and the smile he turned on Eddy buoyed her a bit. She was glad to see him.

“I know you had to work today, Eddy, but I brought you some ice cream from the social. Probably all melted by now though.”

“That was so sweet of you, Zeke.” She took the small bowl from his hand. The cream had indeed melted but not all the way through. “Please, sit,” she said. “Let me get a spoon.”

Sylvia said, “I'll leave you two to your visiting.”

Eddy dipped her spoon into the mostly melted cream. “This is very good. How was the social?”

“Not a lot of people. I hear most of them came here after church. Mr. Brown wasn't too happy because it was supposed to be a fund-­raiser. Can't raise money when no one comes.”

“We did have a rather large crowd today. Maybe next time we can put a jar out and have people put in donations and turn the money over to the church.”

“That's an excellent idea.” He paused for a moment and asked sincerely, “How are you?”

“Tired, but it's the good kind. Everyone seemed to love the food.”

“I do, too. As I said before, you're a fine cook, Eddy Carmichael.”

She knew it made no sense, but she found herself comparing having him at the table with Rhine. Zeke's nearness didn't charge the air like a summer storm nor did she have trouble keeping herself or her breathing on an even keel. Would his kisses be even-­keeled as well?

“Penny for your thoughts.”

“I'm sorry. I was just thinking about how tasty this ice cream is. Thanks again for thinking of me.”

“To tell you the truth, you've been on my mind a lot since we met.”

“That's nice of you to say.”

“I'd like to spend more time with you.”

She was just about to respond when she looked up and saw Rhine standing in the doorway and she almost dropped the bowl.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he said smoothly.

Eddy got the sense that he wasn't sorry about a thing. Zeke's eyes narrowed.

“May I help you, Mr. Fontaine?” she asked, and tried not to let seeing him take her back to being in his arms.

“I have a business proposal for you, but I can come back later.”

“Tomorrow during the day would be preferable.” Last night's encounter had been so searing, she didn't need a repeat performance roiling her senses again.

“As you wish. I'm also returning your cup.” It was one she'd put the marmalade in. He walked over and placed it on the table beside her. “The marmalade was . . . memorable.”

It was impossible not to remember his talk of putting the marmalade on her lips. His eyes said he remembered it as well. “I'm glad you enjoyed it,” she managed to say over her pounding heart.

“I did. Anytime you have more to share, I'd be appreciative.”

He was talking about kissing her again, and while a part of herself thrilled at the prospect, the sensible part reminded her that Zeke was a safer, more rational choice. “I'll keep that in mind.”

“Good. I'll see you tomorrow. Again my apology for interrupting. Zeke.” He inclined his head and left them alone.

“What kind of business proposal does he have in mind?” Zeke asked tightly.

“I've no idea.” And she didn't.

“I do think he's interested in you, but then again, so am I.”

Eddy had gone from having no beau to more male interest than she knew what to do with.

“As I was saying, I'd like to spend some time with you.”

“I'd like that.”

“There's a band concert Friday night I'd like to escort you to. It's sponsored by Fontaine's saloon though and he'll be there. Not sure how you feel about that.”

“I'd enjoy going with you.”

“Then it's a date. Thanks, Eddy.”

“You're welcome. Thanks for the invitation.”

“I know you had a long day. Let me get out of here so you can rest up.”

She walked him to the door. He stood there a moment, and from his hesitant manner, she sensed he might be trying to decide whether to chance kissing her or not. He nodded a good-­bye instead. “I'll see you at the auction.”

“Have a good evening.”

Once she was alone, she thought again how nice he seemed. No roiling for him. She liked his well-­mannered attentions even as the sensual parts of herself awakened by Rhine's kiss eagerly looked forward to tomorrow.

R
hine sat brooding in his office. The saloon was closed on Sundays so the place was quiet. He'd not been expecting to find Eddy keeping company with Ezekiel Reynolds, and when told by Sylvia that she was, common sense said he should've just left the premises. But he was finding he had no sense, common or otherwise, where the little queen was concerned. He'd entered the kitchen just as Zeke confided his wanting to spend more time with her, and wanted to grab him by his collar and toss him outside. But he had no right. That truth only further raised his ire, and he realized he was jealous.

Jim Dade stuck his head in the door. “So did she agree?”

“I didn't get to speak with her. She was entertaining Zeke Reynolds and told me to come back tomorrow.”

“Is that why you're looking so morose and he's downstairs looking so mad?”

“Who?”

“Zeke. He's downstairs. Wants to talk to you.”

Rhine sighed audibly.

“This is better than one of those dime novels,” Jim told him. “Should I send him up?”

“Yes, and then go away.”

“I want to watch.”

“Go to hell, Jim.”

Chuckling, his partner disappeared.

When Zeke entered he didn't waste time with greetings. “So what are your intentions towards Miss Carmichael?”

Rhine took in the chilly eyes and stony manner. Although the two men were evenly matched in height, Zeke had a more powerful build. If he was bent on a fight, Rhine would have to shoot him in both knees first to throw the odds in his favor. “I want her to make the cakes for the Republican dinner at the end of the month.” The annual social event was one Rhine had sponsored for the past few years. There was music, food, dancing, and no speeches.

“And outside of that?”

Rhine gestured him to a chair.

“I'll stand.”

Rhine sat back and observed him for a moment. “Did she send you here?”

“No.”

“Then why make this your business?”

“Because a man like you has no business around one of our women.”

“From what you know of me, have I ever treated any woman of your race dishonorably?”

“No. Not that I know of.”

“Then why would you think I'd treat Miss Carmichael any differently?”

“Let me ask you a question. Are you interested in her as more than a cook?”

“She's a beautiful woman.”

“That's not an answer.”

“Okay, I am interested, but I doubt she'll have me.”