Ruby's Song (Love in the Sierras Book 3) (7 page)

Marlena looked at her reflection in the mirror, at the simple dress she’d made for traveling to and from
The Museum
on performance nights. The white bodice buttoned up to the base of her neck where a blue lace collar laid over it. The same lace folded as cuffs at the end of her long sleeves. She looked like an innkeeper’s daughter, more like the kind of woman Dalton would be used to seeing in the west. She felt more like herself, too, or rather more like her thirteen-year-old self, jittery with excitement knowing the man with whom she was wholly infatuated stood right outside her door.

Chapter 7             

I’ll be damned
.

The thought chanted through Dalton’s mind over and over and as he paced the alley. What the hell was he supposed to do now? He had expected to find a woman of mature sexual appetites, one who would return his desires for a week or two, sending him back to Virginia City well sated. His experiences with female artists had proven this opinion time and time again, but Marlena was definitely
not
that kind of woman if her cowering behind a vanity mirror were any indication. Not that he could partake of her charms if she
were
that type of woman. She was
Little Miss
for crying out loud!

There was a strange clash of thoughts in his head. It had been refreshing to see Marlena as a passionate woman of many layers as opposed to the formal primrose he’d encountered, but that shouldn’t be significant. He’d always preferred life to laws that inhibited life. But the sting of disappointed hopes smarted through his body, especially his groin. He sighed, knowing he’d have to wait until Virginia City to scratch that itch with Rosa.

He never entertained the idea that his feelings for the woman on stage had truly gone beyond physical, but there was no denying Marlena’s performances had reached into a deeper part of him and created an effect he couldn’t name. Maybe some part of him had known it was her, had detected some bit of familiarity and tried to make it known to his mind? There was no telling why he’d felt so drawn to her, but it had proven a comedy he was sure they’d look back on fondly. He chuckled again, remembering the astonished look on her face when they’d locked eyes in the mirror.

When he turned around, the burly watchman, Monkey, was eyeing him with a suspicious slant of eye.

“You know that girl won’t be going anywhere with you alone,” the man announced.   

Dalton admired his protectiveness while laughing at the absurdity of it. “You needn’t fear me or my intentions, good man. The lady and I go back many years since she was a wee thing.” Monkey didn’t seem amused or convinced, so Dalton went with the ruse he’d used at Marlena’s house. “In fact, I’m her cousin.”

Before Monkey could object, Marlena squeezed through the portal and out into the night. “It’s true, Monkey. He is my cousin from…New Mexico.”

Monkey sent her a reproachful look. “Penny, you and your cousin have been exchanging love notes?”

Dalton raised an eyebrow. Penny? So, that’s what they believed her name to be. Marlena laughed and pulled the hood of her cloak up over her head.

“Can you believe such a prank?” she said through giggles. “Dalton, here, was putting up the greatest jest. He wanted to surprise me with a visit, and he certainly did. He’ll see me home, Monkey. No need to worry.”

The man seemed less than convinced, but his scowl relaxed when Marlena went to him for a hug. “We’re sure going to miss you around here, girl,” Monkey said.

“I’m going to miss you, too,” Marlena replied. “More than you’ll ever know.”

They parted and she glided over to Dalton’s side and wrapped her hand around his offered arm. Dalton tipped his hat to Monkey and they strode down the alley toward the street. He stole a glance at Marlena and found her face drawn down and sad. Once out of earshot of the watchman, he nudged her with an elbow.

“Penny, eh? How many names do you have?”

She laughed. “Just the three you know: Marlena, Helene and Penny.”

Helene was the name she’d used when she and her sister moved to Virginia City in disguise, but even back then he’d never called her that. “You forgot one,” he said, and she looked askance. “Little Miss, of course.”

She grunted in frustration. “That is
not
my name,” she insisted. “Just because you refuse to stop using it doesn’t mean I accept it.”

He laughed until he noticed her eyes darting to and fro along the length of the street. “What are you looking for?”

“We ought to hire a carriage,” she said. “It’s late.”

“You don’t have to worry when you’re with me. I’ll protect you.”

“It’s not that,” she said. “I don’t want to be recognized.”

His eyes traced the outline of her hooded profile. “You’re sure going about it the wrong way.”

“What do you mean?” There was a hint of curiosity mingled with offense in her sparkling violet eyes, and he smiled.

“You’re wearing a full cloak in the thick of summer,” he answered. “That will draw more attention than anything else.” He reached over and removed her cloak, folding it under his arm. She fidgeted with her collar before pulling her long braid over a shoulder. Her gaze stayed pinned to the cobbles and he rolled his eyes before stopping their promenade.

He stood in front of her and put his hands on her shoulders. “Look up,” he commanded and she did so slowly. The light of fear was brightening her eyes. “If you don’t act suspicious, you won’t look suspicious. You’ve already donned a plainer dress. Your hair is not primped and pinned in some elaborate coif. You don’t look like a member of the Winthrop household.” His eyes scanned her features, realizing how close they were to the ones he’d envisioned before he knew she was the actress. Porcelain white skin, ripe red lips, long fluttering lashes. “But you do look lovely.”

Finally, her lips smoothed in an easy smile. “Thank you,” she said. “But can we still hire a carriage?”

He nodded with a smile. “As you wish.”

Once tucked safely inside the cubicle, she relaxed, though still had trouble looking him in the eye.

“Well, let’s hear it,” he said, forcing her to meet his gaze.

“Hear what?”

“Your story. I want to know how life has
truly
been for you living in Boston, and how you ended up at
The Museum
.”

She chuckled and it sounded nervous. “The carriage ride isn’t long enough for that.”

“Sure it is,” he replied. “I told the driver to take us around Boston Commons.”

“You did?”

He nodded. “So, you’ve plenty of time to tell the tale.”

She played with the end of her braid, refusing to connect eyes with Dalton.

“Don’t tell me you feel awkward around me now?” he teased.

She glanced up abruptly. “Just a little nervous.”

He guffawed. “You feel nervous around me now that I know the truth, but you didn’t feel nervous around me at lunch when you thought I believed your ruse?”

She looked out the window and sighed. “I felt nervous around you then, too. In fact, I’ve always felt a little nervous around you.”

His good humor dissipated. “Why?” he asked, unsettled by the idea. “Have I ever said or done anything to make you uncomfortable?”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just…” her voice drifted out of the open window and faded.

“What?” he prompted.

Her bottom lip folded between her teeth and her gaze dropped to her lap. She covered the red of her cheeks with her palms. When she looked up again, her face was flushed with chagrin, her eyes unsure.

“I have a confession to make,” she said, and he braced himself.

“Go on.”

After a long pause, she took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. “When I lived in Virginia City, I fancied myself in love with you.”

He said nothing, having no words.

“It was nothing more than a child’s fancy,” she went on, “especially given our age difference but it still made me nervous around you. When I saw Juliet, I didn’t know you were in town with her. I wasn’t prepared to see you after so many years. It brought back many feelings and memories.”

Dalton wet his bottom lip and took a deep swallow. What was he supposed to say? He was flattered that she’d held him, a Madam’s son, in high enough regard to fancy. Most people in town, even in the west, distanced themselves from him and his mother, socially. He wished he could return the compliment and say he’d thought the same of her, but he hadn’t. How could he have? She’d been a child, making him incapable of thinking of her romantically.

There was far too much tension leaping up between them in the silence. He decided to lighten the mood with humor by tilting his head, smirking, and drawing out a long, “Awwwwwwwww.”

She batted his knee playfully. “Don’t be wicked! I’ve shared something extremely personal with you.”

He laughed and held his hands out wide. “What am I supposed to say? I’m flattered. I truly am, but no more nervousness between us, all right? We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Her head bobbed up and down and he could see the burden leave her body with a long exhalation. When their eyes met again, a soft smirk tugged on her lips and he felt her gaze roaming over his face. A surge of heat rippled through him, the same as it had the first time she’d acknowledged him with a bow at the play. It was intense. It was undeniable.

“You look so different now,” she said, approval in her tone.

“So do you,” he said, hoping to impart the same sentiment in his. “How did you end up at
The Museum
?”

She took a deep breath and told him of Eloisa’s invitation. “I was actually terrified to go, but I thought…well…I thought the girls would like me more if I went with them, but they only wanted me as a scapegoat if they got caught. I happened into an audition that night and they took me on as part of the troop.”

“You’re either insane or brave,” Dalton said, suppressing his smile. “Elijah Winthrop won’t take kindly to being made a fool if people discover the truth about your fearless rage against the cause of injustice.”

“Although a part of that is true, I’m afraid the real reason I auditioned is much more selfish.” She stopped fidgeting with her skirt and looked up. “I want to perform. Onstage, I feel like I’m doing what I was always meant to do.” She paused for a laugh. “I know it sounds silly, but I feel like I’m acting more
off
the stage than on. I feel closer to myself while onstage than I have for the past five years offstage.”

“So, the other day at the restaurant, all that hullabaloo - that was all an act?”

She nodded. “I detest what the
Brahmins
stand for and would never want to be a part of their society, and I’m not. They make sure I know I don’t belong, but I wanted you and your mother to believe that I did. I know Juliet is going to tell Jess about my life here, and I want her to tell all good things. Jess doesn’t need to know the truth when there’s nothing she can do to change it.”

He frowned. Marlena painted the picture of a woman trapped in a life she didn’t want. Very few people had fortitude to follow their hearts’ truest desires. It must’ve taken a great deal of courage for her to accept the role at
The Museum
. “Well, I hope you’re not acting now, with me.”

“No.” The word was breathed more than spoken, and Dalton felt drawn to the depth of her gaze. There was more to Marlena than he’d seen on and off stage so far, a depth he had a longing to explore. After a long pause, she cleared her throat and asked him about his life since they’d parted ways. “Do you still live in Virginia City with your mother?”

“No,” he answered. “I don’t really have a place to live, truth be told. I move around a lot and rent rooms wherever I go, or else I sleep out under the stars. I don’t mind the solitude, at least most of the time. It gives me time to read and think.”

“When did you stop working for your mother?”

He pursed his lips. “About four years ago.”

“And…what do you do now?”

He stroked his chin, wondering if she could handle the shock of the truth. “I’m a hired gun.”

The smile faded from her lips as her face filled with disapproval and disgust, but she said nothing. Even in the dim light of the carriage he could see her cheeks flush and the rapid flutter of her eyelashes before she looked away from him again. He sighed, feeling the weight of judgment. There was a reason he didn’t advertise his services, and it was written all over her face.

“I sense an opinion on the tip of your tongue,” he said. “Let’s hear it.”

“It’s none of my business,” she said, short and tight.

“Still, I’d like to hear what you think.”

She snorted. “People don’t really mean it when they say that. Nobody wants to hear what I think.”

“I’m telling you I do.”

Silence fell as she closed her eyes for a deep breath. “Fine, then. I’m appalled by the fact that you
kill
people for a living.”

“I
protect
people. If the people trying to harm them are killed in the process, then so be it.”

She sat back against the seat, tall and rigid. “Oh, well please, be so cavalier about it!”

He shrugged. “I’m good at what I do. Not one of my clients has ever been killed. Some call that a perfect record.”

“Shootists are men without morals or scruples of any kind,” she returned tightly. “They kill for the pleasure of it and don’t care one whit whether the person they’re killing is the real criminal or if the person paying them is.”

He studied her for a long moment. Her arms began to shake in spite of the warm night. “You know me better than to believe I’d kill for pleasure. Not all of this venom is directed at me, I presume.”