Mallory Rush - [Outlawsand Heroes 02] (9 page)

BOOK: Mallory Rush - [Outlawsand Heroes 02]
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"Should I take that to mean you'd rather be dead?"

"How very astute you are, my dear woman."

"You jerk," she seethed. "Life is a gift. How dare you spit in its face."

She snatched up his uneaten bowl of soup, marched to the sink, and dumped the contents down the drain. With a strike of her hand to the wall, a hideous gnashing sound commenced. "This is a garbage disposal!" she shouted over the noise.

She turned it off, opened a black portal, threw in the bowl, and snapped, "this is a dishwasher! I hope you were watching closely because the next time you can do it for yourself. Same thing goes for the pants, because the next time you get snagged in a zipper I sure as hell won't work it loose for you, you—you—oooohh!"

Noble savored her outburst with far more appreciation than he had her soup. It fed his need for the familiar, the revenge that flowed in his blood. It also fed his desire for this livid creature, so glorious in her wrath.

"What a provocative woman you are," he said
with sincerity. "As much or even more so now as when we were in the tub. By the way, you will return me my gun now."

"Why do you want it?" she demanded with a nervous tap of her foot. "So you can kill my other television before you blow your brains out?"

He hadn't thought about that option of escape. It was viable, but he deemed suicide cowardly and a coward he was not.

The rapid flitting of emotions revealed in her transparent face captivated him, lured him to pause and study her at length. He found it admirable that her gaze never wavered from his, especially when it gave so much away. She wanted nothing to do with him. She was drawn to him against her will.

"I wish to have my gun returned because it is mine and I take comfort in the paltry possessions which I can claim as my own," Noble said quietly, with a civility he had heretofore lacked.

She sighed heavily but gave an equal measure of ground. Almost. "I'll give you the gun. But no bullets, okay?"

"It is not 'okay.' But as they say, beggars cannot be choosers, and I am done begging for so much as your pardon this night." He disliked himself for letting that last bit of poison slip out. But clearly not half as much as she disliked him for having said it.

"Fine," she said curtly as she stalked to the door. She paused long enough to say icily, "while I get your gun you can pick up your clothes in the bathroom. Consider it your first lesson in modern civilization. Women actually have lives that don't revolve around taking care of a man, and hell if I'm about to clean up after you!"

Noble silently applauded her exit. It was more than he could do for his horrid behavior. But it had served its purpose, released him from the overwhelming magnitude of what he would rather shun than confront.

Avoiding it still, he went in search of Lori's bathing room. There on the floor, his clothes were piled in a heap.

Discarded, outdated.

A burning metaphor for life as he once knew it.

 

 

 

Chapter 7

 

Noble stroked his pistol in the night shadows of the bedroom Lori had said he could use for however long it took him to adjust, get a job, and fend for himself.

Though he replied that the sooner the better, he had wanted to beg her to stay, not to leave him alone with the mayhem of his thoughts. But here he was, forcing himself to face this perverse fate thrust upon him.

How would he survive? he wondered. Lori had said that people no longer rode horses in the streets, but relied on horseless carriages known as automobiles or cars. And even if he learned to use one, how could he afford the purchase? He would have to earn money somehow; yet who would employ a lawyer a century behind in his legal expertise?

Those were, he knew, the easier questions and all without ready answers. But he would learn to survive in this strange new world. Only, to what purpose? Ah, there it was, the thing he shuddered to confront. His purpose in life no longer existed, and without it, he was adrift in an amorphous sea of no meaning, with no reason for being to guide his path.

His quest for justice was gone. His thirst for revenge would never be quenched. And his vow to uphold family honor? Like so much sand in a shattered hourglass.

He felt as if he were floundering, being pulled under by dark despair. The walls seemed to close around him, and he got up, paced the room, trying the shake off this horrible sense of suffocation.

Noble touched the clothes he'd laid out to dry. Lori had offered to show him how to do it quickly by putting them in a drying machine. Though he had refused with a show of disdain for her modern contraptions, in truth he simply had not wanted to part with what little he had.

Not even the wanted poster he had found sealed to the inside of his coat and had carefully peeled away. Instinct had advised him to destroy the evidence of his crimes lest Lori find them out. Something, some fragment of memory he couldn't quite catch, warned him her reaction would be severe.

Still, he had been unable to relinquish even the poster's destructive link with his past.

By the moon's light Noble again traced the likeness of his face, the crude block lettering offering a bounty for his head. No longer soggy, the rough grain of the paper held a talismanic feel beneath his fingertips. As did the other articles he stroked, one by one.

He gathered his possessions to him, pressed his face to the worn leather and wool and sheepskin and fur. And then he went about rearranging his things at the foot of the bed as if he were placing sacred objects on an altar.

That done, he paced some more, the crowd of his thoughts still dogging him.

"I cannot bear this a moment longer, else I'll go insane," he whispered into the shifting shadows of night.

Decisively, he made his way down the short hallway until he faced Lori's bedroom. A sliver of light bled beneath the door and onto the floor where he stood, debating.

Noble swallowed and it tasted of pride. Forcing it down, he knocked softly, twice. He heard the sound of her moving. "Yes? What is it?" she called from behind the door.

"I... Lori, I wondered if I might beg a moment of your time. As well as your pardon for my ill manners tonight."

"Ill?" she retorted. "That's putting it mildly."

"Yes, you're right. I was insufferably rude."

"Go on."

"And I was..." Lord, what else did she want? His hat in his hand? His lips to her feet? Probably. Mustering as much remorse as he could, he added, "and I was a cad."

"A cad, huh?" Was that a quiet chuckle he heard? "You forgot to mention that you were also a rake and a rogue."

"Yes, yes." He sighed. "If I add viper, villain, and knave most vile to my list of sins, will you see me?"

The door swung open and his heart quickened at the sight of her, all soft and bed-rumpled and illuminated by a muted light.

"I accept your apology—on one condition." She gave him a smile that could thaw ice and nearly torched him. "You have to accept mine for being so sharp with you. I'm afraid you hit a nerve and I let my temper get away from me."

"Rubbish. You said what you thought and what you thought was precisely true. If you don't mind my saying so, I found you stunning in your fury."

"You did?" She cocked her head, amused.

"Oh yes, absolutely. A woman has never spoken to me so forthrightly before and I was somewhat amazed by it all. A bit of the reason I deliberately urged you on."

"Why, you..." The purse of her lips implied he was everything he had admitted and more. "How did you bait me? Just for future reference, of course," she asked, with a hint of curiosity and good-natured humor.

"Let me see." He tapped his lips and was pleased, highly pleased, when her gaze warmed on the motion. "What I said, about you seeking the call of the theater. It is something of a questionable profession and I did acknowledge your talents in a rather mocking tone. But truthfully, I admired your impassioned speech, the flash of your eyes—even the jab of your finger. I thought you more riveting than any lead actress commanding the stage."

Lori laughed. "Who knows? Maybe I'll audition for
The Taming of the Shrew
and get cast as Kate."

"Ah, Shakespeare, the Bard most supreme. Do they still read his works in this modern age of yours?" Noble asked hopefully.

"I have a collection in my bookcase you're more than welcome to." She touched his hand and he found a sweet comfort in that small act. "His plays are still alive and well, Noble. How about we see one the next time there's a local production?"

"That would be wonderful." He kissed her fingertips. "I can't tell you how much this means to me, to know at least a few things remain the same despite the passage of time."

"Some important things last," she assured him, then added, "and other important things change."

"Such as?"

"Actors are held in high esteem these days." He nodded his approval. "And most women have enough self-esteem to speak their minds. I'm not so out of the ordinary that way." The look she gave him was one of reluctant admission.

"You think that I shall find you less extraordinary than I believe you to be once I meet other women of your time?"

"I do."

"This disturbs you," he noted, peculiarly pleased.

"Of course it does," she blurted out. Then her gaze shied from his and he thought her all the more extraordinary for her honesty despite her embarrassment. "I mean, everyone likes to think of themselves as being special. And the truth simply is, I'm not all that different from most women. I have a job so I can pay my bills and—"

"You work? You actually work away from home? This is amazing! What else do you do?"

"I shop, I max out my credit card, and screw up my checkbook balance." With a small laugh, she said, "now
that's
amazing—considering I studied accounting before I decided to get a degree in nursing."

"You went to a school of higher learning?" Unbelievable!

"State university. I got through on a scholarship, a grant and a loan, and slinging dough at Pizza Hut. Not the easiest way to get through college, but I did it myself and I'm proud of it."

"As well you should be." Noble regarded Lori with respect bordering on awe. "What an incredible feat you have accomplished. To actually study a profession while you labored at... well, whatever a pizza hut is." Eagerly, then: "What else do women do differently these days?"

A mischievous smile sparked her lips. "They vote."

"Good God."
Her revelations were hard even to fathom. He wanted to hear more and yet he had already heard too much. Still, he was curious as to how a woman like Lori spent her nights as well as her days.

Stealing a glance into her private chambers, Noble saw a beacon of comfort. It was a room belonging to a woman, soothing in its pastel hues, wholly feminine in its array of shapes and textures.

"Might I come in?" he asked, expecting refusal but very much hoping she would allow him to enter.

Lori silently debated. No man had come through her bedroom doors since Mick had died. She had changed it to suit her feminine whims over the passage of too many solitary years.

No need to consider a man's lack of decorating taste. No need to plot secretly the washing machine fatality of an ugly baseball cap.

The heavy, masculine furniture with dark paisley curtains and matching linens was gone, delicate white wrought iron and Battenberg lace taking its place. No, it was no longer a bedroom shared with a man, it was hers.

She did not want to be alone right now, and knew Noble did not need to be alone either. But still she asked, "If I say yes, do you promise to mind your manners?"

"I seek no seduction here, only the comfort of your company. I give you my word."

She motioned him in, struck by how small the space seemed. His powerful presence filled the room, creating an atmosphere of vivid contrasts to tantalize a woman's senses.

The vision came without warning. She saw them wrapped in moonlight and candleglow, the two of them splayed like ribbons unspooled on a bed.

The vision passed but left her shaken. Averting her gaze from where Noble stood, openly admiring her decor, she quickly went to an antique chifforobe and grabbed her favorite robe. A ratty, ankle-hugging terry cloth robe meant to give warmth to the wearer but that would put a quick end to a steamy affair.

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