Grayson Brothers Series Boxed Set (4 books in 1) (65 page)

She glanced at Anna to include her in the conversation. “The first time I tried skating, I couldn’t move my feet without falling. I cried until Lida took pity on me and towed me around the pond with her neck scarf.”

“You’re lucky your sister was so nice,” Anna said. My siblings would have left me standing there all night.”

Claire stopped and stared at Anna. “I didn’t realize you had siblings.”

“Four brothers and three sisters.”

Claire exchanged a look with Boyd and knew what a family man like him must be thinking. He and his brothers worked together and helped one another. Anna’s siblings should be helping her out, not Claire. She shook her head, warning him not to ask questions.

He gave her a discrete nod. “As soon as my brothers and I learned to skate,” he said, “we were out to kill each other. Whoever was still standing or not bleeding by the end of the night was the winner.”

“Sounds dreadful.” After being manhandled by Karlton, Claire’s bones ached just thinking about the roughhousing that must have gone on.

“Those were some of the best times of my life,” Boyd said, his eyes filled with a warmth that made her want to move closer.

But Claire warned herself to keep her distance.

“Why did Duke chose a profession of upholding the law, while you chose to own a saloon?” she asked.

“I craved more excitement than being a lawman.”

“Chasing criminals isn’t exciting?”

“It’s irritating, and I don’t have the patience for it. Duke has always been a peacemaker. I was the troublemaker.”

“You still are in this neighborhood.”

His snort, and Anna’s chuckle, made Claire smile.

“What are your other brothers like?” she asked.

He tilted his head and studied her. “Why all the questions?”

“I’m curious about your family.”

“There’s not much to know. Radford is the oldest. He fought in the war, became a hero then came home and stole my brother Kyle’s fiancée.”

She pursed her lips. “Are you intending to make Radford look bad to make yourself look better?”

“No, I just gave you the short version of the truth.”

“That must have been a difficult time for your mother,” she said, hoping to lead their conversation in another direction. She wanted to know more about this lady who’d raised four well-respected sons.

“My mother stayed out of it, but yes, it was a rough time for everybody, especially Radford and Kyle. They’re both married now, and their wives are having babies.”

“Is Kyle spontaneous like you?”

“Gads no!” he said with a laugh. “He’s methodical and practical to the point of boorishness. I can’t work with him for more than an hour before I want to cuff him on the head and wake him up. And I drive him crazy.”

“I’m sure,” she said wryly. “Despite your similarities to Duke then, you sound quite different from your other brothers.”

His smile faded and his eyes darkened. “I’m not at all like them.”

Claire exchanged a glanced with Anna, both women realizing she’d stepped over some invisible line and trespassed on personal territory.

They walked the last few yards in silence.

A five-inch board rail surrounded a huge sheet of ice that covered much of the east park. Wooden posts with suspended lanterns glowed throughout the Common and shimmered across the ice. People chatted as they crossed the park or circled the rink. Children raced across the ice, shrieking with laughter. Two old men sat on a bench playing harmonicas for the lovers who couldn’t see anything but each other.

Boyd guided them toward an empty bench, but as soon as Claire was seated, he knelt and tugged off her boot.

She jerked her foot back. “I don’t need assistance.”

Boyd winked at Anna. “I’ll help you next, as soon as this irritating woman sticks her foot in this skate.” He cupped his hand around Claire’s toes.

“What are you doing?” she asked, glancing around to see if anyone was watching.

“Warming your toes. They’re freezing.”

Boyd slipped the boot over Claire’s foot and laced it tight up to her ankle. He slipped the other boot on without any teasing. She waited while he helped Anna on with her skates then she hurried to the rink.

“We should have waited for him to put on his skates,” Anna said, following Claire onto the ice.

“He’ll catch up with us.”

“I know you didn’t believe me the first time I said it, but that man is in love with you.”

“Nonsense. He just likes to irritate me.”

“He does more than irritate you.”

She wanted to deny it, but her feet wouldn’t let her. Her left foot was achingly cold. But her right foot, the one Boyd had caressed with his warm hand, was nestled comfortably in her skate.

“Why not enjoy his attention?” Anna suggested as they slowed to avoid the people in front of them. “What harm can come from ice skating?”

And maybe Anna was right.

Boyd was a saloon owner—the man responsible for her failing business—but he had also been her protector this evening when Karlton had hurt her. He wasn’t the same kind of man as Jack, or Larry, or Karlton—he was of an altogether higher caliber. It wasn’t fair to lump him, or other honorable men, into the same category.

As long as she kept alert to his intention, she could avoid getting hurt. And maybe she could find a way to bring Boyd around to her way of thinking about whiskey and saloons.

Her legs were just warming up to the side-sliding rhythm when Boyd skated past. He pivoted in front of her and skated backwards.

“Would you ladies like an escort?”

Her heart hitched. His grin was irresistibly boyish and charming. Already she was in trouble, and the evening had just begun.

“You two go ahead,” Anna said. “I need to tighten the laces on my skates.”

He held out his hand to Claire. “Want to see how fast we can go?”

She could see by his lifted eyebrow that he was challenging her. “Why not?” she said with a saucy lift of her chin.

He pivoted with ease and skated beside her. “This won’t hurt your arm, will it?”

She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. “I’m fine.”

“It should have never happened, Claire.” His voice was filled with apology and concern.

Karlton’s mauling was nothing compared to what she’d experienced with Jack, but it had obviously upset Boyd enough to fire the man. “Does Karlton have a wife?”

 “No.”

“That is something to be thankful for. I can only imagine how horrible he’d be after a night of drinking.”

“He doesn’t drink.” She glanced up in surprise, and he nodded. “It’s true. I’ve never seen him touch a drop of ale or liquor in the two years I’ve known him.” He steered her around a couple of children clowning with each other. “Karlton is a staunch businessman out to make his fortune. That’s why all this temperance nonsense has him so upset.”

“It’s not nonsense.”

“Let’s not argue. In fact, let’s not talk about the subject at all.” He tucked her arm more firmly against his side. Their bodies shifted into a synchronized rhythm as they skated in silence. Their breath formed frosty funnels as they circled the rink.

Men and women greeted Boyd with warm smiles as they passed. Even the women who marched with Claire gave him friendly nods. This was his town, she realized. He belonged here. These people were his friends and neighbors. His family was well respected, and despite Boyd’s choice of owning a saloon, so was he.

Suddenly, Claire saw Boyd as a playful boy, a beloved son, a respected man, instead of a saloon owner. He was all of those things, and more.

“You’re too deep in thought for skating,” he said. “It terrifies me that you’re cooking up a plot to ruin me.”

She smiled. “Nothing so sinister.”

“Then let’s make our evening more festive.” He nudged her toward a group of people who were forming a circle. He caught Anna’s hand and pulled her into the ring with them. Then he linked hands with Claire. A man to her left clasped her other hand, forming an unbroken circle. Suddenly, the group of people began to skate to the right. As they increased their speed, their arms stretched out. Claire was pulled along by Boyd as the people circled faster and faster. The women shrieked, the men laughed, but Boyd never took his eyes off her face. His teeth flashed white in the lantern light, his deep laughter spilling over her, warming her.

Her own laughter bubbled out and she clung to his strong hand, enjoying the wild ride and the sounds of laughter around her. Several of the ladies begged to stop, but the men merely slowed and forced the circle in the opposite direction. The women shrieked and protested then laughed as easily as Claire did. She felt young in that moment.

When the crazy circling finally stopped, Anna skated away with a group of ladies who were still gasping and laughing. Claire clung to Boyd’s arm and begged him to take her to a bench until she stopped swaying.

“I’ll keep you upright,” he said, and slipped his arm around her back.

Instinct made her stiffen, but she was too off balance to pull away. They rounded the rink twice before her head cleared, but by then she’d grown to like the feel of his arm against her back.

“Are you going to be chastised by your lady friends for consorting with the enemy?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with humor.

“Not once I’ve told them I’m helping our cause by wearing down your resistance.”

“Is that what you’re doing?”

“Of course.”

He laughed and tightened his arm, drawing her against his side. “Then let’s see how persuasive you can be.”

Instead of wiggling away, she boldly met his eyes. “Please close your saloon, Mr. Grayson.”

He smiled down at her, and she felt as if she were spinning in that crazy circle again, dizzy and half-scared but unable to let go.

“Spend the evening with me tomorrow, and I’ll close the saloon for the night,” he said.

“I don’t believe you.” She tried to slow down, but he held her tight and pulled her along with him.

“I will, but only if you spend the evening with me.”

“Doing what?”

“Anything. Whatever you like.”

“That’s all it will take to get you to close it?”

“Yes.”

“I won’t spend the time alone with you.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

Her face heated for unfairly assuming the worst. She averted her eyes. “Why is spending time with me worth closing your saloon?”

“I like your company.”

She glanced up, doubting his sincerity. “Forgive me if I suspect another motive.”

“All right. It’s because you like to debate topics with me.”

“No, I don’t.”

He tossed his head back and laughed.

Her face burned as several people glanced over. She’d do most anything to shut down his saloon, but she wouldn’t risk her reputation. She needed to do business in this town. “Are you intentionally trying to cause a scandal?”

“No, but I won’t mind if it happens.” He was looking at her with those gorgeous eyes that made her knees weak. He pulled her closer to him. “I’m a bachelor. I have a right to flirt with a pretty lady.”

“Then you should have brought Martha skating.”

“I’m afraid she had to go back home.”

“Well, if you’re looking to flirt then you’d better go to Buffalo.”

He slowed their pace and studied her. “Are you only with me tonight to further your temperance cause?”

The hurt in his eyes shamed her. The truth was, she liked his company and his roguish sense of humor. Too much. If not for her business needs, she could easily fall for his seduction.

But she did have a boardinghouse and a serious reason for caution with Boyd. His saloon was hurting her business. He could easily hurt her.

She averted her face. “This isn’t the place for this conversation.”

“Then let’s go someplace more private,” he said quietly. “My saloon is empty. We could talk there.”

They could, but they wouldn’t. “You underestimate my intelligence. We wouldn’t talk if we were alone in your saloon.”

“We wouldn’t?” The mischief in his eyes was so flirtatious, she wanted to stay in his arms all night.

“You’re incredibly tempting to a lonely woman,” she boldly admitted. “But you would romance me, thrill me then crush me.” She released his arm and drifted a few inches away. “I can’t afford the price of the ride.”

Sub-zero temperatures made mid-January so brutal that the temperance marches were cancelled for the week. Claire spent much of her time near the stove and purposely avoided Boyd, but to her dismay, she thought about him constantly.

She and Anna kept busy with charity work, and spent their evenings with the Ormands and their precious daughter Emily.

They resumed their marches on Monday, and spent Monday evening in the parlor, watching Mrs. Ormand tease the baby into a bubbly smile. Claire’s heart melted when the infant’s pink lips pursed and her chubby arms flailed above her blond head.

Her own baby would have been just over a year old, had Claire not miscarried in her second month. When she lost the baby, Jack had gone into a rage and a four-day drunk. Claire had spiraled into a dark and angry depression.

The loud whack of her door knocker startled her so badly that she jumped from her chair with a gasp. She exchanged a glance with Anna, and they went to the foyer together.

When Claire peeked out the window, her heartache eased and gladness filled her. She opened the door. Boyd’s cheeks were shiny from a recent scrubbing. His hair was combed back, showing the angles and contours of his handsome face—a face she missed far too much. As much as it shamed her to admit it, she missed his sense of humor, his playful teasing and flirting.

“I heard the news about Willard Lewis closing his saloon,” he said. “You ladies must be thrilled with your success.”

“We are,” she said proudly. Willard Lewis had heeded their plea to close his saloon. Mr. Baldwin, the druggist, had followed suit and pledged in writing that he would no longer sell intoxicating beverages in his store. Both men agreed to help the women further their good work.

Boyd’s saloon had remained open every night but Sunday.

“You ladies are becoming regular news in The Censor. They reported that Washington, Ohio shut down all liquor sales in just one week, which I find hard to believe.”

“Dr. Lewis confirmed it,” she said. “Liquor licenses will be voted on by the legislature soon.”

“I’m impressed.”

She was, too. They still had several saloons to close, but they were finally making real progress. “You’re welcome to join us in the parlor,” she said, wanting his company and the levity he usually brought to the evening.

“I was hoping you would invite me in before I froze to death.”

“You’re dressed too warmly to freeze.” She waited while he shrugged off his heavy wool ulster then took it from him and hung it in the closet.

He winked at Anna. “I think she’s beginning to like me.”

To Claire’s shock, the woman slipped her hand into the crook of Boyd’s elbow. “Stop baiting her and come help me with my chess game. Claire is annihilating me.”

“I admire the concentration the game takes,” he said, “but it’s too tame for my blood.”

Claire’s heart warmed as she followed them to the parlor, understanding that this was Anna’s way of working through her fear one small step at a time. Anna needed to relax, to lower her guard, to learn how to socialize again.

She evidently trusted Boyd to help her do that.

Boyd greeted Mr. and Mrs. Ormand then sat on the sofa and watched Anna and Claire finish their chess match.

Mr. Ormand, who looked like a boy beside Boyd’s worldly confidence, gave an exaggerated yawn and got to his feet. “The baby is fussy this evening, and I’m dreadfully tired of a sudden. The wife and I will bid you all goodnight.” His wife clutched their infant to her bosom and climbed the stairs behind him.

Anna and Claire exchanged a grin. The baby hadn’t fussed once. Mr. Ormand was just eager to get his wife into bed.

“Would you mind if we switched to cards?” Anna asked.

“Of course not.” Claire had never cared for chess. It felt too cat-and-mouse to her, too much like the games Jack had played. She swept the pieces into a felt bag and laid them on the playing board. “Would you care to play a hand of poker?” she asked, with a pointed glance at Boyd.

He raised his eyebrows. “Isn’t that a bit immoral for you ladies?”

“Not if you don’t tell.”

He grinned. “I’ll let you ladies decide what the wagers will be.”

“It had better be something small,” Anna said, “because I don’t know how to play.”

“If you win, we won’t march on your saloon for a day,” Claire said. “If we win, you close for a night.”

He arched a superior eyebrow. “Are you certain you want to make that wager?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” she asked, hoping she looked innocently naive.

“Won’t your lady friends be upset when you tell them why you aren’t marching on my saloon tomorrow?”

She merely shrugged, not about to debate the issue and divulge how much she knew about the game. She retrieved a deck of cards from the drawer in the sturdy oak coffee table. “Would you like me to deal?”

He leaned back on the sofa. “By all means. Ladies first.”

An hour later he stared at her in open admiration. “Did your grandmother teach you how to play?”

She shook her head. Claire had learned the art of playing from Jack and his acquaintances. “Will you keep your promise and close the saloon tomorrow?”

He frowned. “I honor my wagers, Claire.”

“Excuse me,” Anna said, getting to her feet. “I’ll make some tea.”

The instant she left the parlor, Claire sighed. “Why do I always seem to be insulting you?”

“Because I’m a saloon owner. Because you pigheadedly hold some bigoted notions of what a saloon owner must be, and you can’t see me separate from my profession.”

His words rang true. As long as he ran a saloon she would have difficulty seeing him as anything but a reprobate. But hadn’t he proved himself a gentleman on many occasions? Didn’t he defend her and Anna against harm numerous times?

He moved to sit on the coffee table, angling his body to face her. “This temperance business is getting out of hand.”

“So is the drinking in this town.”

He braced his forearms on his knees, bringing his face closer to hers. “Most of my patrons are good, hardworking men who don’t deserve to be harassed.”

“When you serve only those decent, hardworking men, I’ll stop trying to shut you down.”

“This isn’t a game. You’re stirring up serious trouble. The saloon owners and their patrons are furious that Lewis shut down, and that you ladies are meddling with their right to sell liquor.”

She bristled. “I wonder how those men would feel if they were women and had no rights.”

“You ladies are worming your way into every part of our lives. You’re talking to our bankers and our patrons, and even our mothers!”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Use some common sense,” he said with exasperation. “Your house has been ransacked. Karlton manhandled you because you’re meddling with his livelihood. What else needs to happen before you stop this nonsense?”

She’d seen him angry before, but this was the first time it was directed at her. Oddly enough, she wasn’t afraid of him. She liked his earnestness even more than his charm. “Is your anger supposed to stop me from doing what I believe is right?”

“Yes.” He slapped his thighs and stood up. “I’m trying to tell you that there are a lot of angry men out there who’ve had enough of your meddling. They’re raising a ruckus in the saloons. They aren’t going to sit back and be gentlemen about this much longer.”

Worry snaked through her. All it would take was one man to drink too much, to get too aggressive, and she could be facing another terrifying situation. But if she stopped marching, all the work would be for naught. She thought about women like Anna and Elizabeth and knew she couldn’t quit.

He sighed. “This isn’t the time to dig in your heels.”

“I’m not digging in. I’m... thinking.” How could she proceed with her work and keep herself, and the women she marched with, safe?

Agitated, she rose to her feet just as the picture window behind her exploded with a sickening crash. Pain burst in her shoulder as she doubled forward in a shower of glass.

* * *

Boyd’s heart convulsed as he threw his arms around Claire and pulled her to the glass-littered floor. Anna raced into the room, her eyes wide with fright.

“Dear, God,” she said, her voice breathless as she knelt on the floor beside them.

Boyd sat up, his heart thundering as he helped Claire to her knees. “Are you hurt?” he asked, praying she’d only cried out in alarm and not pain.

She clutched her shoulder. “Something hit me,” she said, her voice tight.

Blood seeped between her fingers, and his gut clenched. A brick lay not three feet from her on the glass-speckled carpet.

Anna pulled the gown off Claire’s shoulder then glanced at Boyd. “You’d better get the doctor.”

“What happened?” Claire asked, shivering in the frigid wind that was blowing through the window.

“Someone threw a brick.” He stood and helped her to her feet. He guided the women into the foyer where Mr. Ormand was standing in his nightshirt in shocked silence.

“Stay out of the parlor,” Boyd said to them then turned to Claire’s boarder. “Do you know how to use a gun?”

“Y-yes,” the man said, bobbing his head.

Boyd yanked open the closest door and grabbed the revolver. He checked to see that it was loaded then handed it to Mr. Ormand. “Shoot anybody who tries to enter the house without Claire’s approval.”

Mr. Ormand took the gun, but his hands were shaking so badly he could barely hang on to it.

“I’m going to run for the sheriff and the doctor. You three wait in the kitchen until I get back.”

As if his legs turned to butter, Mr. Ormand sank down onto the stairs. “I’ll stay here,” he said, his face ashen, his hands shaking. “My wife and daughter are upstairs.”

Boyd guided Anna and Claire into the kitchen. “I’ll send the boys over to cover the window.” He jerked his boots on. Then, with a last look at Claire, he rushed outside.

He sent Pat for the doctor and the sheriff then scoured the area around Claire’s house to see if he could track the culprit’s footprints. The prints led back to the street, which was a churned up mess. Within minutes, there were so many men moving around her house that he gave up and went back inside.

Anna put a makeshift bandage on Claire’s shoulder.

“There’s a gouge there, but it isn’t as bad as I thought,” she said. She handed a note to Boyd. “This was attached to the brick.”

When he read the note, fury pulsed through him for the lowlife who would attack a woman, and for Claire, who was being so hardheaded and careless.

“This is what I’m talking about,” he said, his voice grating with anger as he shook the note at her. “The person who wrote this is serious about stopping your marches.”

“That was obvious when the brick sailed through my window,” Claire retorted.

“That brick could have been a bullet, Claire.”

She rose to her feet, her eyes flashing. “I’m fighting for something I believe in, and no one, especially a coward throwing bricks through my window, is going to stop me.”

“No. They’re just going to kill you.”

Her jaw clenched and she glared at him. “Then teach me how to shoot my revolver. It appears I’m going to need to protect myself better.”

“Why not just stop the marches and let things calm down a bit?”

“Because we’re finally making progress. No matter what happens, I’ll keep marching until every last saloon in this town shuts down.”

“If this is just about your business,” he said, “I’ll give you money.”

Indignation burned a hot path up her neck and face. “This is about women like Anna who should be home sleeping in her own bed without the fear of being beaten to death. It’s about men like Larry who use alcohol to fuel their bad behavior. The only people who seem to care about money are you saloon owners,” she said then stormed from the kitchen.

Furious, Boyd bolted after her and caught up in the dining room. He grabbed her arm and spun her to face him. To his shock, she cried out and raised her arm as if to block a blow. The way she cowered against the wall pierced his heart. This woman knew what nightmares were made of.

His anger dissolved, and his chest constricted with sadness. He wanted to pull her into his arms, to hold and comfort and promise to keep her safe, but he sensed it would be the wrong thing to do. She was too shaken and wary to let him touch her.

He backed away and lowered his hands to his side. “Who hurt you? Was it Jack?” he asked quietly.

She averted her face, peering through the window into the darkness.

“Talk to me, Claire. I’ll understand.”

She squeezed her eyes closed.

Watching her struggle to keep her composure rent his heart.

“At least let me hold you.”

A breathy sob slipped through her lips, and she clapped her hand to her mouth.

“Claire...”

She turned into his arms, and buried her face against his chest. He stroked her back, feeling the hard trembling in her body. “I’m sorry.” His throat grew hot, and his chest ached, and all he wanted to do was take her pain away. “What did he do to you? You can trust me. You know that.”

“He did what many drunkards do,” she said. “He drank too much. He gambled away his money. He said vile things, and he beat me.”

Which gave her several reasons to hate Boyd’s saloon. Not only was the noise hurting her business, it had to be a constant reminder of Jack’s drinking problem. She sniffed and wiped her eyes.

“Jack was smart and handsome, but he gambled away any success he might have had. That made him angry. Drinking made it worse.”

“Why did you marry him?”

She raised her eyes, as if surprised by his comment. “I was in love with him.”

Jealousy and compassion tore him in opposite directions. He wanted to tell her that Jack Ashier was no good and hadn’t deserved her love. But the compassionate side of him wanted to hold her until her heartache went away.

“Jack was the man of my dreams,” she said, as if she needed to explain. “He thought I was the answer to all his problems until my father disowned me without a dowry.”

“Your father didn’t like Jack?” he asked.

“No,” she said wearily. “Daddy insisted I annul my marriage. His partner in his steel mill had suggested that a disreputable man like Jack might make demands on my father that would infringe on their business.”