Cowboys and Highlanders (87 page)

“Yes, that’s nice.” Marion didn’t relate to children. Nervous in their presence, she didn’t even know how to speak to them. She understood men. “I need to step away for a few minutes.” Marion patted her small evening, clutch purse. She was sure smoking would meet with the other women’s disapproval. “I didn’t want you to come looking for me.”

“Marion, my dear, this is your time. Do whatever you wish.” She laughed when Michael grabbed a piece of cake off the spoon before Sissy had a chance to put it into his mouth.

Once safely on the other side of the stables, Marion took a deep breath. Knotted up inside, pretending to be someone she wasn’t, made her stomach sick. She could put up a good front when she had to, but she preferred life at the brothel where she could be herself. Truthfully, mingling with these people made her feel inferior. She saw their stares. No matter how hard she tried, she could not come off as a lady. She thought of Allison. Most would assume she was a woman of means. No one would believe she had once tried to pursue employment in a whorehouse.

Marion slipped open the top button of her dress. The new fabric was stiff and uncomfortable in her fingers. She preferred her lived-in clothes at the brothel. Light and airy, they allowed a woman to breath. Corsets, bustles, and yards of useless fabric could make a woman churlish. Perhaps that was why women in town never laughed and why their husbands kept her busy.

She slipped a pre-rolled cigarette from the silver holder in her clutch. After a deep inhale, she almost felt like herself.

A noise to the left startled her. Someone stepped from the deep shadows of the stable. “Are you following me?” She put her hand over her heart, trying to calm its racing.

Train stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his trousers. “I didn’t mean to offend you, Miss Young. I was enjoying your company until you up and left. Figured I owed you an apology for something I said.”

She waved her hand, dismissing his apology. “I’m not easily offended.” She inclined her head, debating whether to say something. “Actually, you could make it up to me if you’d go over there,” she said, pointing to a group of men. “And get me a glass of whiskey. Not a little glass,” she said, using her thumb and index finger to demonstrate. “But more like that.” She pointed to a woman drinking a tumbler of lemonade. “Since you are aware of my disreputable occupation,” she said with a teasing smile, “you can understand why I would not want to embarrass my best friend on her wedding day by drinking whiskey and smoking tobacco. But Train, if I don’t get a drink, I’ll have to hide in my room. I’m not used to proper womenfolk, just whores. I admit, I’m a touch jittery.”

An easy grin spread across his face. “Whiskey?”

“Yes, with ice.”

If TJ had it to offer, who was she not to enjoy some of his hospitality? She didn’t often get the chance to have ice in her drink. Her life didn’t afford such lavishness. No, her room at the brothel stayed cold in the winter and muggy in the summer. Dirty miners, whiskey breath, and a share of the money she earned, her life wasn’t one of luxury. Luckily, Allison never had to know hardship in the brothel. TJ got her out.

Train looked over his shoulder at her as he walked away.

Marion winked.

Train approached the makeshift bar. He leaned forward to reach a tumbler. TJ said something. Too distracted by the woman waiting in the shadow, Train didn’t hear clearly. “What was that?” He finally pulled himself into the conversation.

“How’re you doing?” TJ poured himself a whiskey.

“Fine.” Train turned in the direction where Marion waited again.

“It’s customary for the best man to dance with the bride. Sugar’s looking for you. Where’s Marion? She’s supposed to save a dance for me, but I haven’t seen her.”

“Joseph--” Allison curtsied and grabbed his elbow. “Dance with me.”

“Here.” He handed Marion’s drink to TJ. “She’s behind the stable,” he said. Allison dragged him onto the dance floor. He paused, listening to the band music, and then began their dance.

“You look beautiful,” Train said, with his arm around Allison, a woman with whom he once fancied himself in love. They waltzed across the wooden dance floor. Tiny white flowers adorned the loose knot of hair on the back of her head. Her small frame and delicate features contradicted TJ’s working man’s build. Funny how looking at her as someone else’s wife changed the way he felt. “I don’t need to ask if you’re happy. I can see you made the right decision to marry TJ.”

She squeezed his hand. “I’m glad you’re not angry. I never meant to hurt you.”

“It wasn’t a mortal wound. Tell me about Marion.” He twirled her.

“If you want to know if she works in the traditional way, the answer is yes.”

“She made that clear. I know you couldn’t do it. Marion talks as if she enjoys her work.”

“Maybe that’s true. She accepts where life has led her.” She slowed their dance and looked hard into his eyes. “Sandy’s brothel is better than where Marion came from. She might be a whore, but I think she is the finest quality person.” Train led her in another direction on the dance floor. “I will say she’s outspoken to a fault,” Allison said. “If you don’t want the truth, don’t ask the question. You’ve been watching her?”

“She’s nice to look at. I bet she’s busy at the brothel.”

“Yes, she is.”

* *
*
* *

TJ found Marion leaning against the stable. “It’s a custom for the maid of honor to dance with the groom.”

She stepped away from the wall and straightened her skirt. “My apologies, Mr. Bester.” She searched for the right words. “I guess I’m just not accustomed to keeping polite company.”

He chuckled. “We’ve spoken enough for you to feel at ease calling me TJ.” He handed her the tumbler of whiskey. “Everyone’s a bit uncomfortable. Well, except Allison. A week long engagement doesn’t give a body much time to prepare.”

She tipped the tumbler, drank, and emptied it. “The girl doesn’t waste any time once she knows what she wants. She told me the story of how you met.”

“I admit I almost hired her when she showed up on my doorstep looking for work as a ranch hand.” He raised his eyebrows. “I wasn’t thinking of working her in the fields.”

“I’m certain you were thinking of how she could work up a sweat.”

“I’m sure you’re right, although you’ll never get me to admit it to her.” He put his hand on Marion’s lower back. “I want my dance.” He escorted her across the yard to the dance floor.

TJ whispered to Marion, “I see you’ve attracted someone’s interest. Care to trade partners?”

Marion turned to see Train staring. “Absolutely,” she purred in response.

“Be gentle with him.”

Sensing his amusement, she laughed.

TJ danced them to Allison and Train. “I’ll take my wife back now.” He pulled Allison into his arms and they spun away.

Train took a deep breath as Marion stepped into his arms and continued to dance. The transition from Allison to Marion sent his heart rate into a gallop. They danced in silence. Then much too quickly, the music ended. “Thank you for the dance, ma’am.”

Marion leaned closer and whispered, “Walk with me.” She linked her arm in his. “It looks like the festivities are well under way. I doubt we’ll be missed.”

He watched her, fascinated by the way her lips moved. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Allison will notice.”

“I don’t care. Do you?” she asked.

“Hell no. Wait a minute,” he said, and then hurried to a nearby table to retrieve his cowboy hat. “Let’s go.”

Marion took the bottle of champagne from the middle of the table, smiled, and linked her arm in his. He stared at her fingers against his flesh. Like the heat of a branding iron, he felt her touch.

The ground crunched beneath their feet as they walked past the stables. They passed another large building. “The Shack,” Train said, nodding toward the open door. “It’s where Cake cooks the grub, and where those of us who don’t have families and homesteads bunk.”

They walked, the sounds of the reception fading into the night air. Train found it impossible to ignore the sway of her hips. Damn, she was pretty. He’d never disrespected a woman, not even in his mind. But Marion had his thoughts running wild. His cock was hard and his balls were tight. She smelled like heaven and looked like sin. But she was a whore and he’d never wanted to bed a whore before. Whore or not, a woman deserved to be respected.

Once, he thought marriage to a woman like Allison suited him. Refined and delicate, Allison was a kind of woman who needed protection. Perhaps they could’ve been happy with children, and a little spread of their own. But even with Allison, there had never been this frisson of desire. Raw and aggressive. Damn, but he wanted Marion. What in the hell was wrong with him? TJ used to bed whores. TJ’s father used bed whores, Train refused. Yet there was an intense awareness prickling his skin. He could tell she was doing to him what she did best. Men were business.

Silence stretched out between them.

“What are you worrying about, Train? Are you simply curious or is there some other reason you’re interested?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, I think you do. I bet you want to say exactly what’s on your mind, but don’t know if you should.” She issued the challenge with a touch of humor in her voice. “I noticed you when Sandy and I first arrived. During the ceremony, you purposely stood next to me, and ever since, I haven’t been able to escape your company. Not that I mind. Truthfully, I love to be the focus of a handsome gentleman’s attention.”

Train pulled a pouch of tobacco from his pocket and rolled a cigarette. “Allison told me you like it when a person is straightforward. I’ve tried to be honest with women in the past. Most don’t really want to hear the truth.”

“I’m not like other women,” she said, taking the cigarette and putting it between her lips. “You don’t have to mind your manners with me.” She exhaled. “Let’s sit over there.” She pointed to a large tree. Prairie grass grew knee-high in the shade. Train stomped down a place for them to sit.

“You were telling me why every time I turn around I see those beautiful eyes staring at me.” She sat and smoothed her dress around her legs.

“Never been referred to as beautiful before.” He chuckled. “Those words are best used to describe you.”

“Are you flirting with me?”

“And if I was?”

“I’d say it isn’t necessary.” She winked and took a hearty swallow of champagne before handing him the bottle.

“Marion, you’re a hard woman to figure out. You look like a lady, but you act like a man.”

She laughed. “Better than acting like a lady and looking like a man.”

He took a drink and set the bottle between them. “Why did you bring me out here?” he asked, leaning back, the rough bark of the tree biting into his back.

She picked a long blade of grass that had gone to seed along the top. “Because I was uncomfortable with the women at the reception knowing I was a whore trying to look like a lady attending their party.” She looked out into the softening glow of approaching night. Crickets chirped in cadence while a gentle breeze rustled the leaves above them. “Allison has always been a respectable lady. She’s never had to pretend. I’m not very good at pretending to be something I’m not.”

He looked at her expensive dress, and perfectly coiffed hair. Little blue stones sparkled in her ears. “No one knows you’re anything, but a lady. You look beautiful. I would’ve loved the honor of being your escort today.”

She smiled. “That’s a nice thing to say. However, you know I do my socializing at night.”

“Marion, if you wanted to walk away from the whorehouse and live a respectable life, could you?”

“Maybe, but I won’t.” She helped herself to more champagne. “Not all the womenfolk working in the brothel chose it. Sandy did, and I’ve made the best out of the hand life dealt me.” She leaned in and whispered, “Let’s be honest, Train. It is nice of you to be so kind. I’m far from naive. Today has been…different from my normal day. I got to see how the other half lives. And you know what? I don’t want it.”

“A family?”

Her eyes clouded over and the smile left her face. She shook her head.

“I don’t see the point of living like you do. Why wouldn’t you want a better life?”

“Stop Train, I like my life just fine.” She held up a hand, closing the conversation. “I can’t see living as you do any more than you could be in my line of work.” She leaned in close. “I like you. I think you like me.” Her lips split into a smile. “Don’t you really want to know if you can kiss me?” she whispered, her lips dangerously close to his.

“It’s good to want. It drives a man to strive to be better.”

“I like instant gratification. Why want when you can have?” She barely touched his lips with her own.

Train placed his hands on her shoulders and gently glided his mouth over hers. His limited experience hadn’t prepared him for her assault upon his lips. Her mouth opened under his. Her tongue stroked his upper lip. Surprised, he pushed her away. “Damn, Marion!”

“What?” she asked. “Surely you’ve been kissed by a woman before. A man shouldn’t always have to be the seducer.” She ran her hand down his chest. “I’ll bet you’ve left a trail of broken hearts across Montana.”