Just After Midnight: Historical Romance (6 page)

CHAPTER SIX

At Megan’s shriek, Alex sprang to his feet, reaching for the heavy Enfield revolver each member of the mounted police carried. Without pausing to think, he grabbed Megan’s arm, dragging her behind him as he turned to face the danger.

He froze at the sight of Damon, tongue lolling in a doggie grin.

“Megan.” Alex endeavored to keep his voice calm. “Don’t you go anywhere without your damn bodyguard?” Some of the anger he felt at being so needlessly alarmed must have seeped into his voice, because the wolf growled.

“Shut up or I
will
shoot you,” Alex growled back. “Pest.”

Damon cocked his head, then sat back on his haunches, panting.

“I think you’re talking his language now.” Megan laughed when Alex glared at her. “Don’t be such a sore loser. He means well.”

“Why am I always the one he exercises his good intentions upon?”

“Just lucky, I guess.”

Megan placed her hand on his arm, and Alex’s body hardened at the slight touch. Though he wished he could resist her allure, he covered her fingers with his own.

“We should return to the party. I
am
on duty, even though I haven’t been acting like it.”

Megan withdrew her hand and, returning to the blanket, packed the remains of their meal. She seemed offended, though Alex couldn’t think why. A glance at the wolf showed the animal glowering again. Women and wolves, he never would understand them.

In silence they descended the hill, Damon at their heels. When they reached the outskirts of the town, the wolf trotted off in the direction of The Celebration.

“Now he leaves,” Alex grumbled.

“You should be flattered.” Megan’s gaze followed Damon as the crowd parted to allow him a wide, clear path back to the dance hall. “I don’t think he’d leave unless he thought you could protect me. It seems you’ve made a friend.”

“A wolf for a friend. What next?”

“Why are you so irritable? Don’t you feel well?” Megan turned to him, her face reflecting concern. “Maybe the heat is too much for you in that heavy coat. I think it’s at least a hundred degrees today.”

Could she really be so innocent that she didn’t know what part of him wasn’t “well” after their interrupted interlude? He found such a concept hard to believe after her cold-blooded maneuvers to make money by using her face and body. Staring down into her lovely eyes for a moment, he thought the paint she’d used to enhance her features made her look like a child playing at being a woman. Tearing his gaze from hers with difficulty, he stared down the street toward the party while he got himself under control.

To turn the conversation away from himself he said, “The heat isn’t the problem, Megan. The cold will be. Just wait until you encounter a Yukon winter. You’ll be begging for San Francisco before the first week is over Maybe you should reconsider your decision to remain here.”

“We’re back to that again? You’re becoming extremely dull.”

“Well, we can’t be dull with the great Meggie O’Day, can we?” Taking her arm, he pushed their way through the crowd toward the loud music at the far end of the street where a patch of flat, dry ground served as the dance floor. All of the dancers from The Celebration and the other dance halls in town danced from one man to the next. When the musicians began to play a polka, Alex pulled her into his arms and swung her into the midst of the fray before she could protest.

“Am I still dull?” he shouted.

Megan faltered, and her pointed heel came down hard on his instep. Wincing, Alex continued to move in time to the music. It didn’t take long for the revelation to come to him. Meggie O’Day, dance hall enchantress, could not dance a step. He fought back the urge to laugh as she attempted to shuffle her feet with the rhythm of the tune.

She tried with all her might, but after several more agonizing missteps, Alex began to count softly in her ear. “One and two and one and two and . . . That’s it; keep going. One and two, and . . . We can’t have the townsfolk find out that Meggie O’Day can’t dance. One, and two, and . . . That would be bad for business.”

When Megan didn’t answer, Alex looked down only to encounter the top of her head. She continued to stare at their feet, her hand holding his in a near-painful grip. When the song ended, Megan pulled from his grasp, still avoiding his gaze.

As he looked at her bowed head, his heart did a slow roll within his chest. She tried so hard to be tough, to be Meggie, when deep down she was neither. “Thank you, Megan. You saved me a day’s pay by dancing with me here rather than at The Celebration.”

“I don’t dance. I manage.”

He had to bend close to hear the words. “Well, I thank you anyway. As I said, a dollar a dance is too rich for my pockets. How is it that a dance hall owner doesn’t know how to dance?”

She glanced up at him for a moment then quickly returned her gaze to her feet as though shy. “I never had the chance for such frivolity. I’ve spent my life trying to keep a roof over my head and some food in my stomach, as well as my father’s. Teaching his daughter to dance was never a high priority in Brian Daily’s life.”

The words were said without bitterness, but Alex felt the sadness behind them nevertheless. In his quest for revenge and his hatred of her father, he had neglected to think what her life must have been like as the daughter of a wastrel.

“Where did you learn to dance?” Megan asked, breaking into his thoughts.

Alex frowned, looking out over the crowds milling through the street as he remembered. Joanna had taught him one rainy afternoon. He had been home from school in England for a rare visit, and Joanna was anxious to show off what she had learned at Grandaire’s School for Young Ladies. They had spent the afternoon laughing at his clumsy attempts; but in the end he had mastered the art and earned Joanna’s approval.

“My sister taught me,” he murmured to Megan, still half lost in his memories. She had begun to walk back toward The Celebration and without thinking, he followed along next to her, guiding her through the thick crowd of revelers by rote.

“Where’s your sister now?”

At her question, Alex straightened into a military stance. “She’s dead,” he said through tight lips.

“Oh,” Megan’s voice reflected her dismay. “I’m so sorry. Did you lose her recently?”

“Yes.”

Megan hesitated. She obviously wanted to ask him more, but politeness kept her from pursuing the topic. Instead, she went on as though nothing untoward had been said. “I always wanted a sister, or even a brother. I’ve often wondered what it might be like to have someone else in the world you shared a bond with—parents, childhood memories. Being an only child, well, I’ve just been alone.”

“You had your father,” Alex ventured, struck by the sadness in her voice, feeling again that slow roll of his heart.

Megan smiled; but when she glanced at him, the expression did not reach her eyes. “I never really had my father for long. My mother died when I was thirteen; then I lived with an aunt for three years while my father traveled the country. Once I started traveling with him, he would stay with me only as long as it suited him; then he’d move on to his next adventure and I’d follow after selling whatever business we owned at the time.”

Alex pondered how different her life had been from his with a large and loving family. He might have lost Joanna, but at least he’d had her in the first place.

Megan went on. “Sometimes I used to dream of having a family of my own, brothers and sisters to play with, to depend on if life got hard.” She turned and smiled the same sad smile. “But those were only dreams. Dreams don’t come true.”

Alex frowned. “Of course they do. Someday you’ll have a husband and children. That will be your family.”

Megan shook her head. “I don’t think so. That’s not the life for me.”

They had reached the front of the dance hall and paused at the foot of the steps. Alex turned to her, puzzled.

“Why not? All women get married.”

“No,” Megan said softly, “not all of them. And certainly not me.”

She said the words with finality, and Alex wondered what had set her mind against the institution of marriage. He opened his mouth to ask, but at that moment someone from the crowd jostled Megan from behind and she stumbled against him. His hands came up to her shoulders to steady her, and she looked into his eyes. All other thoughts fled when he met her green gaze. His hands tightened, and he drew her closer, marveling at the softness of her skin, bared to his touch by the revealing neckline of her gown. He moved his thumbs in a light caress across her collarbone and she shuddered, then pulled away.

“I have to work tonight.” Her voice was breathy, her cheeks flushed. “Thank you for the lovely day, Lieutenant.”

“That’s it?” he asked, unnerved at his response to her. “ ‘Thank you for the lovely day, Lieutenant.’ Come on, Megan; when you put yourself up as a prize, a man expects more than a thank you for his money.”

Her eyes narrowed at his deliberately taunting words, but she didn’t answer. Instead, she skirted past him, just out of his reach, and entered The Celebration. He followed, past the surprised gazes of the bartenders in the front room, past the raised eyebrows of the dealers in the gambling room, and through the empty dance hall. When they reached the door to her rooms, she turned so suddenly Alex stepped back. She followed and, grabbing him by the front of his coat, jerked him forward for a hard kiss, full on the mouth. Stepping away as quickly as she had advanced, Megan looked up at him defiantly. “Debt satisfied, Lieutenant.”

“Not with that excuse for a kiss, Meggie.” He put a sarcastic emphasis on the name she had adopted.

She grimaced at his tone. “That excuse, as you call it, will have to suffice.” Before he could stop her, she slipped through the door, slamming it shut behind her.

Alex stood in the hall for several moments, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. His attraction for Megan had become a tangible ache, their day together so enjoyable he had hoped time would stand still. The memories she had shared with him of her child
hood and life with Brian Daily had only served to make his feelings toward her more tender. Even her angry kiss aroused him, not to mention the embrace they’d shared on the hill. If he didn’t watch himself, he might . . .

He pushed back the errant thoughts, turned, and descended the stairs to the ground floor, then burst outside into the scalding heat and sunshine of Dawson City in July.

Men were nothing but trouble. Megan knew that, always had. Just look at her father. Totally irresponsible. If it hadn’t been for her looking after him, they would both have starved.

She pushed away from the door where she’d rested her head against the cool, strong wood until Alex Carson’s footsteps retreated. He had stood outside for so long, she had been afraid he was going to come in after her. Then what would she have done? She had been practicing her flirting technique each night at work and had to admit she enjoyed herself. But with Alex, the same techniques seemed foolish and out of place. The feelings bubbling to the surface within her whenever he was around confused her more than she had ever been confused in her life. Her heart pounded with anger—or was it anticipation?—at the thought of Alex kissing her the way he had on the hill earlier that day. She wrung her hands. Thoughts like that would only lead in one direction—trouble.

She had observed enough men in her life to know that women, to them, were only necessary to satisfy their own needs and wants. She had decided early on that she had room in her life for only one man, and him only because she had no choice but to honor her father. Now that he was gone— Megan swallowed back the tears that threatened to spill each time she thought of his death—she would not allow another man to use her strength to supplement his own.

As Megan went about her room getting ready for the evening’s work, a tiny voice inside her head kept whispering that Alex Carson was not a weak man. He was successful in his own right. He had no need in his life for her talents in business. In fact, he was more often scornful of them than admiring. Shaking her head at the muddle her thoughts were becoming, Megan resolved to stop speculating about the handsome Mountie—at least for the coming evening. If she were lucky, the crowd for the Fourth would be so energetic, she wouldn’t have time to think of anything but work.

Unfortunately, everyone seemed to have tired themselves out with the excitement from the previous night’s events and the entertainment of the day. The Celebration was nearly empty, and Megan was left with far too much time to think. In the solitude of her bed the next morning, her thoughts caught up to her with a vengeance.

I should be exhausted. Instead of sleeping yesterday, I went to the festivities; then I worked all night. Why can’t I sleep?
She rolled over and punched her pillow with a fist.
Alex Carson, that’s why. Damn him.

He had no right to be so good-looking, and he especially had no right to kiss like the very devil. She was being unreasonable, but lack of sleep made her petulant.

Sighing with resignation, she slipped on her silk wrapper and opened the heavy curtains. Sunlight flooded the room. Since she couldn’t sleep, she might as well go through her father’s papers, a task she had been avoiding since she’d noticed the cluttered desk days before.