Just After Midnight: Historical Romance (13 page)

As he walked toward the large barn that had been cleaned and cleared for the dance, Alex wondered if Megan would be at the party. He was sure Meggie O’Day would see the necessity of an appearance even if Megan Daily didn’t want to attend.

Alex stepped inside to find the crowd thick and the music loud. It didn’t take him long to locate Megan. The dress she wore, though cut low and suggestive, was a darker green than she usually favored, but Alex liked the way the color brought out the red fire in her hair.

Someone shoved a glass of punch into his hand, and Alex took a sip of the liquid as he moved closer to Megan. He grimaced at the bitter taste and dumped the contents onto the dirt at his feet. Looking up to see who had given him the horrid brew, he caught a furtive movement at the edge of his vision and watched as Ian McMurphy slipped outside. Alex hesitated, torn between the urge to follow the man he’d been searching for and the need to remove Megan from the attentions of other men.

He looked at her and at that moment Megan glanced up and her eyes met his. For just a moment, he saw a flash of confusion, the same confusion he’d witnessed in a doe he’d come upon drinking from a creek. Should I flee or should I fight, her eyes said before the shutters came down and she smiled at him too brightly. “Lieutenant, would you care to join us?”

Alex clenched his teeth at the false cheerfulness of her tone. “No.” He stepped through the throng to clasp her hand and pull her to her feet. “I would care for you to join me.” With a nod to the others, he pulled Megan with him onto the dance floor.

“You know I can’t dance.” She stumbled against him.

“There are too many people on the floor to dance. Just sway with the music and you’ll be fine.”

She resisted him for another second before relaxing in his arms and moving her feet in time with the waltz.

“Very good,” he whispered in her ear and she stiffened again. “Relax,” he soothed, running his palm up and down her tense back. “I won’t hurt you.”

“Quit doing that or I’ll hurt you.” The pointed heel of her shoe came down suspiciously close to his toe.

Alex smiled but stopped the movement of his hand, allowing his fingers to rest intimately on the curve of her hip. Megan glanced at him with a frown, but he met her gaze with an innocent expression and she merely narrowed her eyes and looked away.

“I thought we were going to stay away from each other,” Megan said.

“No, we were going to keep things more businesslike between us,” Alex corrected.

“I don’t call dancing together business.”

“But, Meggie, dancing is your business.”

“Not mine,” she grumbled, though she continued to dance.

He didn’t know what had possessed him to ask her to dance, but now that they were on the floor, he felt better than he had all day. She fit so well against him, the top of her head just touching his chin. If he wanted, he could lean forward and rest his cheek against her hair, pull her head into the crook of his shoulder, and feel her breath upon his neck. His body responded to the fantasy and he missed a step.

“I thought you knew how to dance,” Megan said.

“It’s too crowded in here.” He pulled Megan from the whirl of dancers and into a small, deserted tack room he’d seen on his way in.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded as he shut the door behind them.

“Getting away from the crush.”

“I don’t want to get away, especially with you. People are already talking about us. What do you think it will do for my reputation to be seen going into a room with you and shutting the door?”

“What reputation is that? The reputation of Meggie O’Day? I would think being involved with me would do wonders for your image. Queen seems to think so.”

“Queen?” Megan paused in her agitated pacing. “What does Queen have to do with anything?”

“She thinks being alone with me would do wonders for her reputation. I’m surprised you don’t agree.”

“When were you alone with Queen?”

Alex laughed and crossed the room. Megan went very still and looked up into his eyes. Alex couldn’t resist. He reached out and caressed her too-pale cheek.

“Jealous?” he whispered and kissed her.

His mistake. With his body still hard and aching from their dance, the kiss only served to heighten the painful pleasure; and when Megan wound her arms around his neck, pressing her body against him to kiss him back, Alex groaned.

Megan pulled away. “Did I hurt you?”

Alex’s lips tightened. “Oh, yes. You hurt me.” He pulled her back into his embrace. “Do it again.”

He caught a glimpse of her puzzled face before he resumed their embrace. He was constantly amazed at her show of innocence in matters between men and women. Maybe that was part of his attraction to her. The combination of the seductive allure of her body and the virginal innocence on her face. Alex pulled away and put his forehead to Megan’s, breathing heavily.

“What’s wrong?” she whispered, a slight hoarseness to her voice that made Alex smile despite the tension in his body.

“We’ve got to stop now or I won’t be responsible for what comes next. I want you, Megan, but not on the dirt floor of a barn with hundreds of people beyond the door. You mean more to me than that”

At his words Megan pulled sharply away, as though she, too, had forgotten where they were. A blush tinted her cheeks and he marveled again at her shyness. How he wanted her! More than he had ever wanted any woman in his life.

“I’ll take you back now.”

The hurt on her face made him wince. Well, perhaps that was for the best. Where she was concerned, his much lauded self-control became nonexistent.

“No need. I can see myself out, Lieutenant.” Her emphasis on his rank gave the word the connotation of a curse.

With a swish of green satin, Megan rejoined the party. Alex remained alone in the cold room until he regained his control.

When he returned to the main room, a quick glance revealed Megan’s absence. He moved to stand at the outskirts of the dance floor, watching the dancers for a few minutes. The novelty soon wore thin.

As he pushed through the crowd, planning to say his goodbyes to the colonel, the music suddenly seemed to pulse inside his head and breathing became difficult. He craved the cool air outside, but the doorway was too far away. His feet became heavier and heavier and the room shifted in front of his eyes. A woman screamed and Alex wondered what was the matter; then all thought ceased as blackness swallowed him and he fell into oblivion.

Megan watched in horror as Alex swayed then fell to the floor at her feet. She fell to her knees, reaching out a shaking hand to touch his forehead. He was so hot. Or was she too cold? Megan looked up at the sea of faces around her and focused on two Mounties.

“Take him to The Celebration,” she ordered.

Colonel Steele stepped forward. “Who are you, miss?”

“Megan Daily, owner of The Celebration. I have a room where the lieutenant can rest alone and a doctor on my staff.”

“I think he belongs at our headquarters. Perhaps your doctor can come there.”

“I’m not wasting my time arguing with you, Colonel. This man needs attention, and I plan to see that he gets it as quickly as possible.” Megan motioned to the Mounties, who hesitated, their eyes drifting to their commander.

“Very well,” Colonel Steele conceded. “But I want to be kept up-to-date as to his condition.”

Megan nodded, her gaze fixed on Alex’s still, white face. She followed the men, hovering near Alex as they carried him through the streets of Dawson City and upstairs to a room near her own.

“Get Dan,” she told Zechariah when he came to the door.

Minutes later the doctor appeared in the room but hesitated just inside the doorway. “Meggie, I’m not licensed to practice here.” He shuffled his feet. “That’s why I’m bartending.”

“I don’t care about your license, Dan. You’ve got the training; I want you to use it. I need someone I trust to take care of him.”

With a deep breath, Dan squared his shoulders and came to stand at the bedside. “I have to examine him, Meggie. You’d best wait outside.”

“No,” Megan said, her eyes focused on Alex’s face. “I won’t leave him.”

She set her chin, meaning to fight before she allowed him to remove her from Alex’s side. Dan must have seen her determination for he said nothing more, quietly going about his examination.

“He’s having trouble breathing, and his heart is beating too slow and irregularly. What exactly did he do before he passed out?”

“He was walking toward me. Then, suddenly, he staggered and fell. I was with him most of the time he was at the dance and he was fine.”

“Did you see him eat or drink anything?” Megan wrinkled her brow, thinking back to when she’d first seen him. “He had a cup from the punch bowl in his hand, but it was empty.”

Dan stood up and motioned for Megan to join him in the hall. She did so with an uneasy glance back at Alex. She didn’t like leaving him, but he lay on the bed with no knowledge of her or anything else. Megan swallowed the fear rising in her throat.

“What’s wrong with him?” she asked as soon as Dan shut the door behind them.

“I can’t be sure. But I think he’s been poisoned.”

“Poisoned!” Megan cried. “But how? Why?”

“The most important question right now is, what? If I don’t know what he was given, there’s nothing I can do for him.” Dan took her hand and Meggie felt cold, slick dread settle in her stomach. “Without that knowledge, Lieutenant Carson could well be dead by morning.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Megan listened as The Celebration went into full swing below her. The dance had ended an hour ago and many of the miners had returned to her place to continue the party. She sat in a chair next to the bed and watched over Alex.

Immediately after Dan’s diagnosis she had sent word to Colonel Steele of Alex’s condition and its probable cause. The commander had stopped in to inform her that no one else had fallen ill and so he believed the punch bowl was not contaminated in any way. None of Alex’s fellow Mounties had seen him eat or drink anything in their presence. Colonel Steele left, shoulders bent, and Megan knew he despaired of his lieutenant’s life.

After doing what he could to make Alex comfortable, Dan retreated downstairs to serve drinks, cautioning Megan to call him if there were any change. So far, Alex continued to lie as still as death, his breathing harsh and irregular. The hand she held so tightly grew steadily colder, despite her efforts to warm it.

Standing up, Megan paced the room. She felt so helpless. One minute Alex had been kissing her, insulting her, making her want him with a passion she had never thought possible. The next he lay still and cold, and she cursed herself for leaving him, for not taking advantage of the intense feelings he aroused in her. Now she might never have the chance.

A muffled groan from the bed had her whirling around and running to Alex’s side. She went down on her knees and studied his face.
Had his color improved?

She tilted her head, studying him more closely. She couldn’t tell for sure, but she thought he might look a bit better. His chest still rose and fell with labored movements, but the breaths he took seemed more even. She would wait awhile before calling Dan.

Taking Alex’s hand again, Megan laid her cheek against it and closed her eyes.

He knew he had to be dreaming because Joanna was alive.

Alex frowned and shifted, attempting to wake up. But a heavy weight pressed on his chest and his eyelids were too heavy to lift. Reality wavered, waned, and he slipped back into the dream.

“Alex, you made it home for my birthday.” Joanna shrieked with glee as she launched herself into his arms.

Alex laughed, catching her around the waist and twirling her in a circle until they were both breathless and dizzy. “You should know, little sister, that I would never miss your birthday on peril of death. Wait until you see what I’ve brought you.”

“What? What?” She jumped up and down like a child anticipating a treat instead of the seventeen-year-old young woman she had become in his absence.

“Come now. You know you can’t have your present until after supper.”

“Alex, you always give me your present first. Don’t tease.”

He smiled at her, marveling at how beautiful she’d grown. They had always been close, and even his long absences with the mounted police had not dimmed their attachment. He had loved her from the day she was born, the little sister he had pledged to protect in his five-year-old exuberance. He had never broken that pledge. Please God, he never would.

“All right. You know I can’t resist you when you smile like that.” Alex drew a long, thin box from the pocket of his red uniform jacket. “I had this made especially for you.”

With a gasp of delight, Joanna flipped the lid from the box and her mouth widened into a tiny “o” of surprise. She glanced up at him, her eyes incredibly blue in her heart shaped face.

“Alex. My first grown-up necklace. I love it.”

She pulled the necklace from the box and held it up to the light. A small rose, struck in gold, hung from the center.

“It’s perfect,” she breathed and hastily fastened the gift around her neck.

“Glad you like it. Now that you’re a lady, I thought you should have some women’s things.”

“Alex,” Joanna threw her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly on the cheek. “You’re the best brother a girl ever had.”

Ever had . . . ever had . . .

The words echoed in his head, growing louder with each repetition until Alex groaned with the pain. Only a dream. Joanna was dead. Dead by her own hand. And he would never see her again in this life.

If only he had come home immediately when he received the letter from Joanna. He could still remember the pleading tone—which he had ignored.

Alex, please, please come home. Mama and Papa have never understood me, or my dreams. But you do. You said you’d always be there for me, and I need you now. I’ll have to leave soon. I can’t bear to stay here and be auctioned off like a prize cow. I’ll have to run away.

Joanna’s desire to become a singer had been sudden, unexpected and completely out of character, making Alex believe she was going through a phase of difficulty common to young women. A tiny rebellion before settling into marriage and family as she should. So, instead of going home as she’d asked, he’d fired off a chastising letter and gone on with his assignment in a remote part of the Canadian wilderness. By the time he had reached home, Joanna was gone as promised, and he had spent the next year searching for her—only to find her dead and buried in Dawson City. He would never forgive himself for not returning when she needed him.

“Alex.”

The voice was familiar, feminine. Alex squinted and saw a bright light ahead. A figure awaited him; a voice called.

Joanna
. But if Joanna were ahead of him and she were dead, then what did that make him?

“Alex!” He turned. Another voice called—feminine, urgent. He knew that voice.

Megan
.

The path to her was dark. He could see nothing, but he heard her clearly. She was crying. He risked another glance toward the light. It was so soft and peaceful, so inviting. His sister beckoned.

He heard the sobs behind him and, with a sigh, turned away from the light. Pushing forward, he stumbled along the darkened path.

Alex opened his eyes. Light flared above him as music blared below. He was so tired and weak. He couldn’t seem to lift his hand.

Glancing to the side, he saw that Megan slept with his hand clasped in hers. Tears streaked her cheeks. He frowned.

He had thought the sound of her crying a part of his dream. Had the dream been real then? What about the light and Joanna?

Alex reached over with his free hand and stroked Megan’s damp cheek. She stirred, then bolted awake, her startled gaze flying to his face.

“Alex?” she whispered. “Oh, thank God.”

“Why are you crying?” he asked, stroking his knuckles down her fine-boned jaw.

“I thought you were going to die. You collapsed at the dance, and then Dan said you were poisoned. Alex, you scared me to death.” Megan got to her feet and drew a chair closer to the bed before sitting in it.

“I’m sorry. I can’t remember anything after you left the dance.” He frowned, striving to recall what had happened. “Poisoned, you say?”

“We don’t know how or what or why. Do you have any ideas?”

“I came to the dance and someone gave me a cup of punch. I took a sip; but it was so bitter, I threw the rest out.”

“I had some of the punch and it was too sweet, if anything. Who gave it to you?”

“I didn’t notice.” He looked into her eyes. “I was too busy staring at you. Then, when I tasted how awful it was, I looked around . . .” He paused, a stray memory dancing at the edge of awareness. “I saw someone and I wanted to go after him. But then I came to you instead.”

“Who?” Megan leaned forward.

“I can’t remember.”

Alex’s vision blurred and there were two Megan’s, then one, then two again. He sighed and gave in as his eyelids became too heavy to keep open. As he drifted into sleep, he heard Megan shouting for Dan.

The next time he awoke, the room was dark, but a presence waited nearby. He shifted then moaned as pain shot behind his eyes. Immediately, Megan materialized next to his bed. “How do you feel?”

“Like I had a run in with a bottle of whiskey and my head lost.”

“Would you like some water?” At his nod, she held a glass to his lips.

“How long have I been asleep?”

Megan sat on the edge of his bed. She wore a virginal white gown buttoned up to her neck. For some odd reason, the contrast excited him. Her hip brushed his thigh, and he gritted his teeth. He may have been half-dead for a while, but he was definitely alive now, as his body was making him painfully aware.

“You slept through the rest of last night and the morning. It’s afternoon now. Everyone’s asleep.”

“Everyone but us.” He took her hand.

Megan’s eyes darted to his, unsure, a bit frightened. He smiled reassuringly, and she returned the smile, squeezing his hand as though he were a sick child.

“Dan said you’d be all right now. He figures that you only took in enough of the poison to make you ill but not enough to kill you. Colonel Steele is questioning everyone at the dance. So far, he’s discovered nothing. Have you remembered who you saw after you were given the drink?”

“Hmm?” Alex had been studying her lips, enjoying the way they formed words as her teeth and tongue made rapid appearances and disappearances. “Ah, let me think.” He concentrated, remembering the dance, Megan’s laugh, the bitter taste of the punch, and his glance around the crowded room. “Damn. Ian.” He sat up, his hand going to his head at the sudden movement. “I should have known. Who else would have the gall to poison a Mountie?”

“Ian? Are you sure? He hasn’t been seen in town for several weeks.”

“I’m sure.”

Megan stood. “I’d better send word to Colonel Steele.”

Alex grabbed her hand and pulled her back down next to him. “Not yet,” he said and kissed her.

As his lips moved over hers, she gave in to the embrace and, after an initial resistance, melted against him, her hands caressing his bare chest.

He opened the top buttons of her nightgown and slipped his hands inside, running his fingertips down her long, smooth neck. Megan moaned into his mouth and deepened their kiss. She was all softness and womanly flesh as his hands roamed over her back and shoulders. No corsets or bustles inhibited his exploration as they had in the past. Though his head pounded in reaction to his ordeal, his body throbbed with need for her.

“No, Alex.” Megan tore herself from his grip and moved out of his reach, her fingers unconsciously touching her mouth, then quickly rebuttoning the buttons he had just undone. “You nearly died and now . . . We can’t.”

“I didn’t die, Megan. I’m very much alive as I’ll show you if you come back here.”

“No. I’m going to send a message to Colonel Steele and then have Dan look at you again.”

“I don’t want Dan looking at me. I want you.”

“You may think you’re strong enough, but you’re not. I won’t be party to making you ill.” She turned and went to the door.

“You can run away if you want. But we both know what’s between us is too strong to ignore. Next time we kiss, you won’t be able to put off the inevitable. I’ll make sure you won’t want to.”

Megan paused, and for a moment Alex thought she might return to his bed. Instead, she opened the door and disappeared into the darkened hallway without a word.

Megan had succeeded in avoiding Alex for a week, but the confrontation between them was long past due. His strength had returned, and he would be moving back to the barracks tomorrow. Then he planned to join the hunt for Ian McMurphy, which had gone on in his absence. The mounted police had scoured the town and surrounding area and had plans to carry the search further afield on the morrow.

As Megan climbed the stairs to her room, the exhaustion that had weighted her for the last week became even more pronounced. She had worked herself doubly hard in an attempt to gain the relief of sleep when she reached her room. But every night she lay awake, remembering the times Alex had kissed her, touched her, whispered her name, passion making the slight lilt of England in his voice all the more pronounced. After so many nights of those memories, the tension inside her was at an almost unbearable level.

She reached the top of the staircase and opened the door to her room. Stepping inside, she locked it behind her. Without bothering to turn on the lights she disrobed, then put on her dressing gown. As she fastened the row of tiny white buttons up the gown’s front she walked across the room to her bed.

“Working hard this week?”

Megan shrieked and jumped away from the bed as a voice came from the darkness. Hurrying across the room, she turned on the lights and stared at Alex Carson reclining on her bed in nothing but his black pants. Damon lay at his feet, blinking in confusion at the sudden light in his eyes. After fixing an annoyed yellow glare upon her, the wolf jumped from the bed and went to curl up behind her dressing screen.

“What are you doing here?” Megan asked.

“You might have been able to avoid me all week, but not anymore.”

“Avoid you? Why would I do that? I’ve been working.”

“I’m sure you have. But now The Celebration is closed and it’s just you and me.”