Silver Dreams (28 page)

 Crawling between her blankets, Elizabeth thought for the first time since leaving Manhattan of her bright, cozy room in the mansion on Fifty-eighth Street. She wondered what the patient Bridey was doing right now, if she was worried about her young mistress. She thought of these things, but they were not what she longed for. Her longings reached only a floor below.

"Don't be a simpleton, wishing for a man who apparently doesn't want you, Elizabeth," she said to herself. If Max Cassidy did have designs on you, he could have shown it the other night. And he had every chance to ask you to stay with him tonight.

All the logical arguments didn't help. Elizabeth still wished she were snuggled next to Max. She tried to think of other things, like what Bonanza was like in its heyday, or what the Fair Day Mine would be like when they finally found it. None of her thoughts soothed her to sleep.

Worst of all was the silence. The town was asleep, and so, apparently were its visitors. There wasn't a sound from the next room. Downstairs the preparations for bed had ceased. Never had she felt so completely alone.

Leaving the warmth of her bed, she went to the window and tried to rub a patch of glass free of its grime so she could see outside, but it was no use. Then in spite of the cold, she raised the bottom pane and looked out on the deserted street. A cold wind bit at her face, and she wrapped her arms around her chest to ward off a chill.

The side of the gully they had just climbed down that afternoon rose like a granite monolith behind the buildings across the street. She couldn't make out the specific shapes of trees or shrubs. Everything blended together into one charcoal tableau, solid and unchanging until it met the darker ebony of the night sky.

Only the snow-capped peaks of the taller mountains beyond broke the utter blackness. Gazing at the indistinct shapes and hues, Elizabeth was almost at peace...until she saw the encroaching shadows.

There was a pair of them, elongated and rippling slowly along the gray landscape of the hill. She drew in a sharp breath and held it. Something was out there, moving between the buildings across the street and the gully wall. They continued down the main street until they reached the end, and remained there, poised almost like statues.

Holding her breath, Elizabeth left her room and padded quickly through the hall in her bare feet. She raced for the stairs. She would awaken the entire party if she had to, but right now she just wanted to get to Max.

A gasp of alarm caught in her throat when she reached the bottom step. She didn't need to wake Max. He was standing at the front entrance of the hotel, his hands braced on the door frame and his gaze focused on the far end of the street.

"Y...You saw them?" she whispered hoarsely. He spun around to face her.

"I did."

She ran to him and flung her arms around his neck. He enclosed her in a strong grasp, his hands splayed across her back. "It's all right, Betsy," he said. "It's probably nothing."

"You don't believe that any more than I do," she said. "Otherwise you wouldn't be trying so hard to turn around and see out the door again."

A low chuckle tickled her ear. "You can be quite observant at times, you know?"

She turned to look out with him, thankful that his arm stayed firmly positioned around her waist. "We're not alone in this g...ghost town, Max. Who, or what do you think it is?"

"If you're asking me if I think it's a ghost, then no, I don't. What I do think is that some animals wandered in off the mountain attracted by our light, that's all."

"Animals that walk on two legs?"

His eyes narrowed. "Shadows can be deceiving. Things are not always what they appear." He gently pushed her behind him while he remained at the door, vigilant. Many minutes passed before he said, "I don't see any more of our visitors, so whatever it, or they were, they’ve moved on."

He raised an old buffet to its side and moved it in front of the open window. Then he shoved a chair under the door knob. “Doesn’t hurt to take precautions though,” he said.

Clever Max. He knew how to make her feel more secure. “Yes, that should work to keep anything out.”

He took her hand, and in the meager light from the stove, she was emboldened by his smile. "You'll be safe upstairs. If anything does come in here, it'll have to go through me first."

He had to be kidding. He really believed she would go back to her room after what they'd seen. "I'm not going up there. I'm staying with you...or you're coming with me."

"Tempting, Miss Sheridan, very tempting. But I think we men should stay down here, just in case. But if you want to stay, too, you're welcome."

They were the words she'd wanted to hear. "I'll be right back."  She ran up to get an extra blanket, and when she came downstairs, Max had added more wood to the stove. A few degrees warmer now, the room was bathed in a soft glow. Max took her blanket and spread it over his, then pulled the corner back and slid between them. Resting his head on one of the tent pouches he used as a pillow, he held his hand out to her. "C'mon, Betsy, I'll protect you from the boogey men."

She lay down and nestled her cheek against his shoulder. Her toes brushed the cuffs of his trousers under the blanket. A sigh escaped her lips before she could stop it, and she realized she felt so right next to Max, and if she were born to be with him. All their disagreements suddenly meant nothing. Because here, in a strange part of the country, hundreds of miles from everything that was familiar, in an environment that offered new dangers every day, Elizabeth was suddenly at home. Could it possibly be that he felt the same?

"Max?"

"Hmmm?"

"Are you glad you came to Colorado at this very moment?"

His hand moved with slow, easy strokes up and down her arm. "Well, the floor's a little hard..."

She sensed the subtle movement of his chin on the top of her head as if he were trying to look down upon her. "...and the food isn't really up to my culinary standards, but the present company's so darn charming I'm willing to overlook those little discomforts."

She loved his words, the way he explained his feelings. "You know, Max, I haven't had anything to drink tonight."

He smoothed the hair away from her face and combed his fingers through the loose tresses. "No, I don't think you have."  "And I know perfectly well what I'm doing."

"You usually do, or so you tell me."

She raised her face and their gazes met. In the firelight his eyes shone darkly, like the gray-blue of an evening sky. "I want you to..."

He silenced her with the approach of his lips and a low, throaty whisper that brought goose bumps to her arms. "I think I know what you want, and if those shadows hadn’t...”

“They’re gone, Max. You said so yourself. And thanks to you, we’re safe in here.”

He smiled. “Yeah, I think we are.”

“Me, too.”

“Then I suggest we take full advantage of the one time we both want the same thing."

His mouth descended to take hers in a moist, lingering kiss of such exquisite tenderness it flooded her with warmth and planted Max firmly in her heart. His mouth moved over hers, molding her pliant lips to his.

She might have been content to experience the gentle, sweet caress of his lips for endless minutes, but Max had more in mind than mere contentment. The pressure of his kiss increased, and he moved his tongue along the crease of her lips, raising her to a new plateau of sensation, one that left her yearning for more.

With a moan of pleasure, she opened to him, inviting him into the intimate recesses of her mouth. He coaxed her tongue to circle with his in a slow, languorous dance of desire. She whimpered when his mouth moved from her lips, and so he brought it back, hungrier and more possessive than before.

Rising above her, he cupped her face, and placed urgent, wet kisses on her eyes, her cheeks. Waves of sensations, mysterious and pleasurable, coursed through her, and he fed them with gentle, insistent strokes of his hand. He touched the base of her throat, her chest. Heat, like low, flickering flames, flowed through her at each tempting caress, until he cupped her breast over her gown.

With skill and speed he loosened her ribbon. Then his hand was inside, teasing, kneading, and the slow building warmth became a white hot brilliance. His palm was slightly roughened from the last days' labors, and she thrust her breast forward, in anticipation of the punishing friction of his touch. He played over the tip with the pad of his thumb while his mouth moved lower, leaving a trail of moist heat along her neck. She arched her back, fitting her soft curves against his solid chest and thighs. Elizabeth, who’d never done anything like this before, suddenly just knew what to do. She rejoiced, and welcomed every bold stroke of Max’s hands.

The hard ridge of arousal in his trousers pressed against her stomach. He moved over her, his actions alien yet exciting, and revealing the power she held to quench his hunger for her – only her. And she wanted to please him more than she’d ever wanted anything before in her life.

He grasped the bodice of her gown, and the confining fabric slipped from her shoulder. Drawing her skirt to her thighs, he reached under and cupped her over her pantaloons, bringing her hard against the eager thrusts of his loins. When at last he took the tip of her breast into his mouth and suckled gently, she felt it in the core of her body and moved with him.

"I want you Betsy," he said hoarsely. "If you don't want to do this, stop me now."

In response, she pressed her lips to his and thoroughly kissed him. "I'm flesh and blood, Max,” she whispered against his neck. “Not a china doll. I don't want to watch life from a shelf any longer. I want this, I do."

"I've never thought of you as a china doll," he said, as his hand moved languorously over one taut nipple. "And certainly not right now."

"Tarnation! Can't a body get any sleep in this rat trap of a hotel?"

Dooley!

"First there's Sheridan and the girlie dove upstairs. They sent dust raining down on me through the floor boards, and now you two are threatening to shake the first floor off its foundation. Is there a one of you young people who even remembers why we've come here?"

Elizabeth covered her mouth to keep from choking out loud. "I forgot all about him."

Max's fingers froze on the third button of his shirt. "Damn, Betsy, the old guy's just over there on the other side of that sofa thing."

It was hard to believe that the kind of delirious passion she'd just experienced could cool down so quickly, but that's exactly what happened. It was even more incredible because Max still looked so adorable positioned above her like that, his hair mussed and his face flushed with guilt.