Colorado Dawn (27 page)

Although she had little appetite, Maddie rose and followed Lucinda. “But, Luce,” she said, plopping into one of the upholstered chairs beside a tall window overlooking the road to the livery and the mountains rising on the other side of the creek. “I would have to go back to Scotland. I might never see you again.”

“Admittedly, I don’t like that idea. But you can’t run around these mountains like a nomad forever. And giving up a title and a life of ease would be foolish. A woman needs security. Money will provide that.”

Maddie sniffed, which made her cough. “You Americans,” she chided, spreading a napkin across her lap. “You have such romantic ideas about titles. It’s not all glamour and ball gowns, I assure you. Being in London society is like living in a fishbowl with a school of flesh-eating piranhas taking nips at you every time you pass by. And Scotland is rainy most of the time, and filled with sheep that stink and people who hate you because you’re English. Not that I blame them. Dreadful practice, those Clearances.”

“Well, it’s certainly a lot better than living day to day in the poorest section of New York,” Lucinda snapped, clearly out of patience. “Spending your days kipping food and dodging constables, and your nights fighting off rats and alcohol-soaked procurers.”

Maddie’s mouth almost fell open. Lucinda rarely spoke of her younger years. Maddie knew her parents had died very young and Luce had been raised by an elderly guardian. She had even mentioned her hatred for what she called “those industrialist types” who kept the working poor in grinding poverty while they grew rich, and the “runners” who preyed on the starving immigrants as they came off the boats. Still, there was a great deal about Lucinda
that Maddie didn’t know, like the full story of the man Lucinda had left at the altar and exactly how the New Yorker had come into possession of a valise full of money and railroad shares. But Maddie had never known how destitute Luce had been. How utterly without hope.

Battling new tears, she reached across the table and took Lucinda’s hand. “Oh, dearest, I’m so sorry. How foolish you must think me…after all you’ve gone through, to turn up my nose at what Ash is offering.”

Lucinda pulled her hand away. Maddie had forgotten that another legacy of Lucinda’s childhood was that she didn’t like to be touched.

“Not foolish. Shortsighted. We all have choices, Maddie. Didn’t you once tell me you wanted a family and children? Can you see yourself having them with any man other than Ashby? I doubt it. All I’m saying is that you consider that before you let your viscount slip away. Now, pass the rolls.”

Fourteen

A
sh stayed out most of the day. Earlier, he had shot two grouse and had roasted them over a small fire. It felt good to be in the open again, tending such a simple task. It restored his balance, reduced things to an elemental level—find food, cook food, eat food. Out here it was just him, and his animal companions, and a vast windy silence all around. There was peace in that, comfort of a kind he had never found in cities and ballrooms and lofty castles. The soldier’s life was an extension of that simplicity. Fight, protect your fellow soldiers, kill or die if you must.

But he was no longer a soldier, and not yet an earl. Instead, he was trapped somewhere between the two, yet belonging to neither.

Leaning back against the saddle he’d removed from Lurch after their long run, he laced his fingers behind his head and stared up into a sky that was slowly fading. Already the wispy clouds had gone from white to gold and pink and now trailed across the sky in tattered purple streamers tipped with red and orange. Such skies were a rarity in the islands he called home. But here, framed by tall, frosted peaks and towering deep green forests, they were as common as the game that roamed the hills, as plentifully as the sheep back home.

A magical place, these mountains. He saw that now in a way he hadn’t before. Maddie had done that for him—taught him to see the beauty in the trees, rather than the enemy lurking within—to listen for the whisper in the wind, rather than the whine of musket balls. Maddie and her mountains had healed him. No wonder she dinna want to leave them.

Above him, in perfect silhouette, an eagle made lazy circles against the glowing sky. Envying its soaring freedom, Ash watched it drift down to the trees in a slow descent toward a huge nest atop a tall dead snag. Wings arched back, legs thrust out in front, it dropped down onto the nest, stretched once, then folded its great wings.

Safe for the night. Secure. Right where it belonged.

If a simple bird could find that, why couldn’t he?

It was late and Maddie was beside herself with worry.

When she had left Lucinda’s rooms after luncheon, and Yancey had told her he hadn’t seen Ash all day, she had been so filled with panic that he might have already left she had dashed to the suite and checked his room.

His clothing was there, his shaving mug still atop the bureau beside the pitcher of cloudy water she had warned him not to drink. Satisfied he hadn’t escaped her, and determined that he wouldn’t until she’d had her say, she had returned to her own room to wait.

Supper came and went. The clink of dishes from the hotel kitchen below their suite grew fainter, then stopped altogether. She rose and lit her bedside lamp, then stretched out on the bed, Agnes tucked under her arm.

She must have dozed off, because the next thing she heard was Agnes scratching at the door into the suite. She rushed into the sitting room and flung open the door, expecting to see Tricks and Ash. But it was only Billy, sent by Lucinda to see if Maddie wanted him to take Agnes for her bedtime outing.

After they left, she checked Ash’s bedroom again in case he had
slipped by her while she slept, but nothing had been disturbed since her earlier inspection. Disheartened, she returned to the sitting room and sat in one of the chairs beside the window and stared out at the night. She still didn’t know what she wanted to say to him. Or how she could convince him to stay with her here, instead of going back to Scotland.

Sighing, she tipped her head against the high back of the chair. If only there was some way to make him understand the utter joy she felt in translating a vision in her head into an image on a sheet of paper, and in a way that was uniquely hers. If only he could see how hard she had worked to build a new life here, an independent life. Didn’t he realize there were only a handful of female photographers, and none who had their work published in a big London periodical? If only…

But then, it wasn’t just about what
she
wanted, was it?

Then it came to her. The solution. The only way they could each gain what they wanted without losing each other in the process.

When Ash stepped through the door of the suite, it was dark except for the glow of the small lamp on the table by the window and a dim light shining through the crack under Maddie’s door. He hesitated, wanting to assure himself she was all right, but recognized that for the weak excuse it was. Instead, he quietly crossed the sitting room, called Tricks into his bedroom, and shut the door.

He dinna light the lamp but moved in darkness to the window. Hands braced high on either side of the sash, he looked out at the starlit night. He would miss the stars. And the riotous sunsets. And Maddie.

Behind him, the door opened. He turned to see his wife silhouetted on the threshold. She was twisting her hands, as she did when she was nervous, and seeing that small show of vulnerability in such a strong, independent woman made something catch in his chest.

“All right,” she said.

Someone who dinna know her well might have missed that tremble in her voice. “All right, what, lass?”

“I’ll go back with you.”

He tried to see her expression, but the light from the sitting room was behind her and her face was in shadow. He took a step forward and stopped. “Maddie, I canna—”

“Could you light the lamp, please?”

He hesitated, then did as she asked. When it was going, he turned back to her, and tried to hide his dismay at her ravaged appearance. It was apparent she had been crying and was fighting tears, still. “Lass—”

She raised a staying hand. “Please let me finish.”

“Of course.”

She stepped forward and stopped on the other side of the bed. An awkward but safe distance.

“I’ll go back to Scotland with you, Ash,” she said again. “I’ll be your countess, and God willing, I’ll bear your heirs.
When
it’s necessary.”

Before he could ask her to explain, she rushed on, as if fearing he meant to argue with her. “You said you have no lands or duties to attend as Viscount Ashby. And Donnan is a relatively young man. He could live twenty more years, and I pray God he will. So why go back now?”

“To help him.”

“Do what? When I was there, he spent more time in Edinburgh and London than at home. As did the earl. Glynnis managed Northbridge and the Kirkwell lands. She’s done it for years and loves it. Why not let her continue to do it for now?”

“Glynnis will marry our neighbor, Fain McKenzie soon. He’s been after her for years.”

She made a dismissive motion. “She’s turned him down twice already.”

“She has? Why? McKenzie is a good man.”

“Perhaps so. But she doesn’t love him as much as she loves Northbridge. As long as Donnan needs her, she’ll gladly stay. And
as long as she stays, your brother doesn’t need you. Not as much as I do.”

He sighed wearily. “For what, Maddie?”

“To be my protector. My friend. My husband.” The tears started to flow, and her voice rose as her throat constricted. “Please, Ash. Make
me
your duty until Northbridge needs you. Give me this time, at least.”

He realized his hands were shaking and clasped them behind his back rather than reach for her. “Donnan wasna well when I left.”

“Then let us use the time we have.” She came around the bed and stood before him, her cheeks sheened by lamplight and tears. Her eyes were dark pools of pain in her stricken face.

“And then what, love?”

“We’ll go back. Together.”

“But your photography—”

“I’ll give it up.”

He stepped back, shaking his head. “No, I canna—”

She clutched his arm to hold him to her. “It’s not your choice, Ash. It’s mine. Please. Give me this time now, then when duty calls you, I’ll willingly go back and be the countess you need me to be.”

He looked away, afraid she would see the wanting in his eyes. He would bargain with the devil himself to keep Maddie by his side. But he couldna let her give up her art. She would end up hating him for it.

He felt her hand cup his cheek and gently force his head around until their eyes met. “It’s all right, Ash. This is what I want to do. My decision. Just give me a little more time, that’s all I ask.”

Tipping his head into her hand, he kissed her palm. Then he gave her a smile he hoped would hide his doubt. “As it happens, love, time is all I have right now.” Then before she could see the despair in his eyes, he pulled her hard against his chest. He took a deep breath and let it out, knowing what he was about to do was wrong, but unable to keep himself from clutching at any reprieve he could find.

“All right. I’ll stay here with you, lass. As long as I can.” But he
wasn’t convinced it was the right decision. In the end, she still wouldn’t be able to leave, and duty wouldn’t allow him to stay.

She reached up and pulled his head down and kissed him hard. Then again, gentler, her tongue sweeping the seam of his lips.

That was all the invitation he needed. With shaking hands, he undressed her, then himself. He laid her across his bed and touched her with his hands and his mouth and his tongue until her breathing grew shallow and her body began to tremble. Then he settled into the warm cradle of her thighs. Resting his weight on his elbows, he kissed her, and whispered,
“Tha gradh agam ort,”
as he pushed inside.

Her passion rose to meet his in soft cries and gentle touches, and when her head arched back and her breath caught in her throat and her legs closed hard around his waist, he knew she had bound him to her forever, and he could never leave this woman, no matter what duty called.

KRIGBAUM MINE
HEARTBREAK CREEK CANYON

“I found the photographer,” Clete said as he slammed through the door of the abandoned mine overseer’s shack above Heartbreak Creek. “And guess what, Si?” He tossed his dusty black bowler onto the crate that served as a table. “It’s a goddamn woman.”

“A woman?”

“A woman. You know what women are, don’t you, moron? The ones with tits who run when they see your idiot face.” Clete laughed in that mean way that always made Si want to hide. “I ought to turn you loose on one, freak. You drooling and rooting around, trying to figure out what goes where, and her screaming like she had the devil up her ass. Be fun to watch.”

“You didn’t hurt her, did you, Clete?”

Si hated when his brother did bad things to women. When he heard them cry, it always made him cry, too, even though deep
down he was glad. Because when Clete was sticking it into women, he wasn’t sticking it into him, and he was always glad of that.

“Shut up, moron, and rustle us up some supper. I’m hungry.”

While Si fired up the small cookstove, Clete sat at the table, taking sips from his bottle of Forty-Rod. Si watched him, his fear going up as the whiskey in the bottle went down. Clete was mean enough when he didn’t drink. But when he did…

“Supper’s ready, Clete,” he said, carrying the pot to the table.

His brother looked into it, then spit a mouthful of whiskey into Si’s face.

With a cry, Si staggered back, his eyes burning.

“Christ! Beans again?”

Si scrubbed at his face with his shirtsleeve. “That’s all there is, Clete. I swear. That and a tin of peaches.”

“You ain’t having any peaches. Hand them over.”

Si handed him the can of peaches, then watched his brother empty it in three bites, juice dripping down his whiskered chin. His own stomach rumbled like a growling dog. He hadn’t had peaches in a long time.