Katie Rose (15 page)

She wanted to. God, how she wanted to. With his arms around her, even though her heart was thumping frantically, she felt oddly safe and secure. Yet there was no logical reason for that. Thomas Hall could be a coldblooded killer, who would murder her just as someone had murdered her father. Until she knew for sure, she couldn’t continue to let her guard down like this, not for one moment.

That thought made her withdraw from his embrace. When she spoke, her voice was carefully controlled. “You are right, Thomas, I see that now. I should be more cautious, and will act accordingly in the future. Now, if you’ll just help me down, I can wait for the stagecoach here.”

She felt him stiffen as if he’d been slapped. Emily gulped, wondering if he suspected her thoughts. His reaction indicated that he was upset, but why should he be? She was only taking his advice.

“Forget it,” Thomas said bluntly. When Emily turned to look at him in surprise, she met a cold
stare. “I know you, Miss Potter. Once the excitement wears off, you’ll go back to investigating and get yourself killed. I’m taking you straight home.”

“But that will take at least six hours!” Emily protested.

“You may as well get used to my company, then.”

Emily tried to dismount, but Thomas managed to hold her still—at the expense of losing the reins. The horse bolted, and by the time Thomas had the animal under control again, they were well out of the bustling town. Fuming, Thomas dismounted and yanked Emily down to the ground next to him.

“Dammit, woman, you’re going to get us both killed!” He turned her to face him, determined that once and for all, he would show her who was master. But her eyes were wide with fear, two luminous pools of silver, and her lips were parted, red and inviting. His skin still ached deliciously from where she’d been pressed against him, and his trousers strained tightly against his erection. Every inch of his body cried out for her.

“Emily, sweet Jesus, Emily,” he swore, and covered her mouth with his own.

Emily whimpered a confused protest. Thomas eased the pressure of his mouth, molding her soft lips gently to his. Urging her closer, he caressed her waist, letting his hands slide over her curves, deliberately stoking her passion and calming her fears. A moment later, he got his reward when he felt her melting against him like wax, pressing her soft, sweet body to his.

Thomas groaned, feeling pleasure rush through his veins. Cupping her head in his hand, he slipped his fingers into the silky strands of her hair, enjoying the wonderful texture. At the soft moan in the back of her throat, he parted her lips with his tongue, then plunged boldly inside. She tasted sweet and ripe, like a luscious wine, and his hands slid down her back, wanting nothing more than to pull the dour dress from her and make love to her.

“Emily …” Why did it have to be her? She was an eccentric, would-be detective who never knew when to let well enough alone. Yet her mere proximity drove him mad, and he could think of nothing but possessing her. He wanted to love her, to tease her and tempt her until she was begging for release. He had to have her; it was as simple as that.

The thought made his blood pound. He lifted his face, wanting to see her expression, and was enthralled when he did. She looked like a ravished angel. Her eyes fluttered, their depths like precious molten metal, and her mouth was flushed with their kiss.

“Emily, I want you so badly. I want to make love to you. Please say yes.”

She met his heated gaze uncertainly. “Thomas, I feel so strange. It’s like every pore of my body has awakened, and my blood seems to sing through my veins. Is it always like this? No one ever told me so!”

He chuckled, his desire even more aroused by her innocence. “Yes, it’s supposed to be like this, when it’s right between two people. I want you, Emily. I can’t promise more than that, but I want you.”

She wound her fingers around his neck and leaned against him. She was giving him what he had been coveting, dreaming about, yearning for since he first laid eyes on her … and then he winced when she came into contact with his gun. Thomas saw her expression change. Her head lifted, and she looked directly into his eyes with an honesty that was as compelling as it was heartbreaking.

“Thomas, I want to know the truth. What is going on here? I need to know before I can … commit to anything else.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he whispered, because it was the only response he could give, letting his fingers fan through her hair.

“You aren’t a minister. You’ve been following me everywhere, you handle a gun like an outlaw, you swear, and you kiss like … like I don’t know, but I’m sure it’s not holy. I need to know, Thomas.”

She waited and he shook his head. Why did she have to be so intelligent? “Emily, I’m just a traveling preacher. You have nothing to fear from me. That’s all you need to know.”

She looked at him sadly. “Then I can’t make love to you, Thomas. I know what you’re telling me isn’t right. It’s the Science of Deduction, you know. Now could you please take me home?”

His mouth opened to object to her “Science,” but the hint of a tear in the corner of her eye proved his undoing. He couldn’t stand to see her cry. And God knew what would happen then. Instead of arguing with her, he helped her back up onto the horse, then climbed on himself, feeling a sickness in the pit of his stomach. To hear Emily confess that she couldn’t trust him cut him to the quick in a way he would never have suspected. Forcing aside the emotion, he reminded himself that he had no other choice. Yet there was one feeling he couldn’t quite get past, and that was regret.

As soon as Emily left, Lizzie sprang into action. “Aggie, help me pack. I’m getting out of here.”

The housekeeper nodded in agreement. “That’s the best idea I heard all day. But how’s Jake going to feel about this?”

Lizzie paused, looking up from the suitcase she was packing to meet Aggie’s eyes. “I don’t know. Sometimes I think he’d be relieved. All he wants is that damned money, not me.”

“You should never have taken up with him to begin with,” Aggie said. “You know what I always say. When you sleep with a rattler, you’re going to get bit.”

As if to punctuate her glum pronouncement, shots rang out and the two women stared at each other in fright. “Oh, my God,” Lizzie murmured, placing her hand over her heart. The gunfire continued, the sounds a short distance away, and the former bordello girl broke out of her frozen stance.

“Hurry! We’ve got to get out of here!” Aggie cried.

Lizzie nodded, but the color had drained completely from her face. Pulling the shades, she dragged out another box and began filling it with dishes. Aggie worked silently beside her, folding towels between pictures, tying boxes with twine. They had barely finished the downstairs when the door flung open and a man strode inside.

“Jake!” Lizzie gulped. “I didn’t know—I wasn’t expecting you.…”

“I can see that.” The cowboy stood in the center of the bare room, his rifle slung over his shoulder. His eyes immediately fell on the boxes and trunks, and the housekeeper standing protectively by Lizzie. His
face hardened perceptibly. “What the hell is going on here?”

“I thought I’d take a little vacation,” Lizzie answered softly. “This town is awfully quiet these days, and my feet are itching for some fun. I thought a spell in the mountains might do me good, or maybe a few weeks in town. That’s all.”

Jake snorted and pulled Lizzie from the housekeeper’s grip. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with that schoolmarm who was just here, would it? I heard she was in town, asking questions and poking her nose where it didn’t belong. What was she doing here?”

Lizzie shrugged. “She’s John Potter’s daughter, Jake. She was only asking about her pa. She wondered what happened to him. Someone must have given her my name. That’s all, Jake, I swear.”

“What did you tell her?”

“I told her I didn’t know anything,” Lizzie said quickly. “Why would I tell her anything else?”

He seemed to weigh that answer, but his black eyes glittered menacingly. “What else did she say? Does she know where the money is?”

Lizzie shook her head. “No. I asked her point-blank, but she doesn’t have a clue. You weren’t shooting at her, Jake, were you? You didn’t kill her—”

“What if I had?” The outlaw grinned. “Ain’t no more than she deserves. But I just fired a few warning shots to scare her off. The last thing I need is some spinster woman raising all kinds of questions.” His smile died as his gaze fell on the boxes once
more, taking in the dishes and linens, her photographs in their delicate frames. When he looked up, his expression was dangerous.

“You know, most women wouldn’t pack up everything for a vacation. Another man might think you were running out on him. That isn’t what you’d planned is it?”

“No, Jake, it isn’t like that at all,” Lizzie pleaded. “Why would I run out on you?”

“I don’t know, but it don’t matter because you ain’t. You’re coming with me.” Ignoring the protests of the housekeeper, Jake kicked opened the door and pulled Lizzie toward his horse.

“No, please, just let me go,” Lizzie sobbed.

But the outlaw was heartless. “Git on that horse. You ain’t leaving me, honey, not by a long shot. No woman ever leaves me.”

Emily pulled off her hat that night and flopped down onto the bed. Watson meowed and she absently pulled him out of the bag to set him on the floor, but the cat sprang from the room, still frightened of the mirror. Emily stared into her reflection thoughtfully.

Thomas’s proposition today, while shocking, nevertheless made her pause. She’d been so overcome with passion that she’d actually considered agreeing, especially when she recalled the magic he was able to make her feel in his arms. He was a dangerous man in more ways than one, Emily realized, pressing her hands to her heated face. He always
seemed to know exactly what she was thinking, where she would turn next, and how to arouse her—expertly.

“I must be losing my mind,” she declared out loud. The last thing she needed was a physical involvement with a suspect in her father’s murder. Yet the man had only to touch her and she melted in his arms. Worse, when she confronted him, he made it clear that he had no explanation for his actions. Was his seduction simply part of a plan, or was he really attracted to her?

It was yet another mystery. As Emily put her purse on the dressing table, its meager weight forcibly reminded her that her money was running out. She was no closer to finding the gold than she had been the first day she set foot in Shangri-La, and she certainly couldn’t afford to keep investigating without finding a source of income. As much as she wanted to continue the case, she had to eat.

“What’s the matter, sweetie? You look so glum!”

Emily nearly leaped out of her skin as the ghost swam into view. Staring at the bordello girl’s spirit, Emily shook her head in wonder.

“I just can’t get used to this. Are you always there?”

Rosie giggled, fanning herself with her plumes. “Sorry about the noise the other day, but you needed a little convincing. Yes, I’m always here, but I only show myself when necessary. It uses up too much energy to appear for nothing. So why are you sad? Did that handsome preacher man do you wrong?”

Emily sighed. “Not exactly. I just wish I knew who he really was. Until things are clearer, I have to keep my guard up.”

“Ah. Then you kissed him again?” When Emily’s mouth fell open, Rosie chuckled. “You forget, honey. While detecting may be your forté, mine is men. So what happened between you and our little minister?”

“He … propositioned me,” Emily said slowly. She was reluctant to confide in the bawdy ghost, but she desperately needed to talk to someone. “He asked me to make love to him.”

“Did he, now?” Rosie’s painted eyebrows flew up. “And did you?”

“Of course not!” Emily huffed, though she was afraid Rosie knew exactly how close she’d come. “Why on earth would I do that?”

Rosie looked at her as if she were mad. “Why? Well, for all the normal reasons, sweetie. To be courted by a man like that … he’ll bring you perfumes and flowers, make you feel pretty … and when a man like that makes love to you, you’ll never ask ‘why’ again.”