Loving Bella (7 page)

He quickly broke eye contact and made his way to the other side of the carriage and climbed aboard. With mechanical movements, he snapped the reins and clicked his tongue.

His horse set out at a slow, easy gait.

Focused on the passing scenery, Miss O’Toole remained silent during the ride into town. Shane took the opportunity to slip covert glances in her direction. Her wool coat was the color of a Colorado pine and set off her creamy skin to perfection. With her honey, sun-kissed curls pouring past her shoulders she looked almost imaginary. A storybook princess brought to life.

But she was real. Very real. Her scent gave her away. She smelled of sweet perfume, like fresh jasmine, all pleasant and inviting.

Shane smiled.

Without warning, she turned her head, and Shane found his lips slipping into a frown. Imprisoned in those remarkable tawny eyes the dark, wistful longing he’d experienced in the parlor returned, somehow stronger, and with enough force to yank the breath out of his lungs.

He tightened his hands on the reins and forced his at
tention back to the road. It took every ounce of his will-power not to look at her again.

You do not need this sort of trouble,
he warned himself.
It’s dangerous, imprudent and reckless. Very reckless.

Then again…

Perhaps Shane was thinking too hard, allowing a pretty face to complicate a simple matter. Perhaps all he needed was a little distance from the woman sitting entirely too close to him.

With that in mind, he turned his thoughts to the day’s schedule and scrutinized the road with careful attention.

The rhythmic turning of the wheels mingling with his horse’s steady gait hypnotized him until Shane had no idea how much time elapsed. Surely, no more than ten minutes.

At last,
he drew the carriage to a stop in the alleyway between Mattie’s brothel and the Smoking Horse Saloon.

This was it, their first real test as doctor and temporary assistant.

He let out a slow breath of tension, shoved his fingers through his hair and tugged at the ends.

In a matter of minutes, Shane would discover what Miss O’Toole was actually made of. And for both their sakes, as well as his patients’, he prayed she was up for the tasks that lay ahead.

T
ruly? Bella squinted into the muted, gray light. He’d
truly
brought her to a filthy, stinky, back alley in the heart of a derelict part of town?

There had to be some mistake.

Why would the man direct them straight to a dead end and simply sit there without speaking?

Swallowing her confusion, Bella covered her nose against the stench of garbage and stale liquor. She shot her gaze in all directions. Unfortunately, the jagged rooftops swallowed the sunlight and blue sky above, casting dark, ominous shadows over them. She could only make out a scant few details such as dirt, dirt and, oh, right,
more dirt.

Confusion giving way to frustration, she glanced at the good doctor for some clue to this unusual turn of events. He simply stared at her. Blinking, staring, grinning, frowning? She couldn’t tell. Shadows, long and deep, concealed his features entirely.

Well, of course.
Why make this easy for her?

In spite of a hot surge of rebellion, Bella scooted a little closer to the man, casting her gaze to the right and back to the left again. She didn’t particularly like the dark.

And, uh, were the walls closing in on them by chance?

Stifling a gasp, Bella quickly lowered her gaze to the ground that…was…
moving.

Moving?

One explanation came to mind.

Rats.

In spite of the calm horse at the end of the reins and the equally calm man beside her, the street was teaming with hideous rodents, their sharp little fang teeth waiting for a fresh ankle to bite.

She tried to pretend she was on the stage with a packed audience. She failed. And all at once Bella surrendered to abject terror. “Do…do you see that?” She jabbed her finger toward the ground.

“See what?”

“R…r-r-r…r-r-r-rats! Everywhere.” She clawed at his sleeve. She hated rats worse than the dark.

He gave her hand a condescending pat. “They’re more afraid of you than you are of them. Give it a moment more and they’ll scurry away.”

“No. You…you…you d-d-don’t understand.” She yanked hard on his arm, pulling at him until his ear came close enough for her to speak in a loud whisper. “I hate rats!”

One by one, he slowly untangled her fingers from his sleeve and chuckled. “I should think you’ve seen
enough of the little black creatures in your life. Aren’t they a staple backstage of most theaters?”

The man had a point, a rather large point. But Bella was not in the mood to concede anything to the unfeeling, overly calm beast. “Ssss…So?”

“So,” he said with the same practiced patience he’d used on Ethan yesterday. “I should think you’ve had plenty of time to get over any phobia you might have incurred through the years. You must know they won’t hurt you.”

They won’t hurt you?
Was the man insane? “Rats bite.”

“Has one bitten you before?” he asked, his voice filled with genuine worry.

Oh, right,
now
he showed concern. When it was too, too late.

Bella jerked her chin. “That is not the point.”

“Has a rat bitten you in the past?” he asked again, his tone growing softer and his hand patting with less condescension.

“
No.
But, at the risk of stating the obvious, I…I…I am wearing slippers.”

“Right. I forgot.” The man sounded entirely too passive, almost gleeful in the face of her panic.

Something bigger was going on here, bigger than rat teeth searching for Bella flesh. And just like that, she knew. Beau’s terribly important meeting this morning made perfect sense now.

This little trip down rat alley was a test.

One the horse was passing, one the doctor was passing and one Bella had every intention of passing, as well.

Just give her a moment.

Once she started breathing again she’d have her fear under control. Oh, sure, her hands were shaking uncontrollably. And her heart was pounding a fast tempo against her ribs. But she would not submit easily.

Lord, empower me with the courage to do Your work today, regardless of the black furry challenges You’ve set before me.

“While we’re waiting for our new friends to find a hiding place,” Dr. Shane began in a matter-of-fact tone, “I should take this opportunity to warn you about what’s to come.”

“Of course,” she said, waiting silently for him to proceed.
Anything
to get her mind off sharp, pointy fangs.

Turning her head slightly, she considered the doctor more carefully now that her eyes were adjusting to the shadows. In the dim light, his features had taken on a series of sharp angles and well-defined planes. His eyes were the color of polished pewter.

Unfortunately, the look he cast her was completely impersonal, as though he’d slid an invisible shutter across his features.

Bella swallowed a sudden urge to cry. She wished she could understand what was going on in that complicated mind of his.

“Our first patient is Lizzie.” He shifted away from her and set the brake. “She’s suffering from consumption, as many of her kind do.” The sorrow in his eyes told her there was more to the story than he was revealing.

“Her kind?” she asked.

His head rotated back in her direction. An inner
struggle was written across his face. “Prostitutes. Lizzie earns her living by accepting favors from men.”

A gust of cold, misty air swept through the alley at his proclamation. Bella shivered.

“We’re at a brothel?” she asked, trying to hide her terrible fascination at the notion.

“Yes.”

Bella studied the two buildings on either side of her, silently wondering which establishment was their destination.

As though sensing her unspoken question, Dr. Shane pointed to his left. “It’s that one.”

Cocking her head in fierce concentration, she eyed the sooty brick and mortar. “I see.”

She felt rather than saw him take a deep breath. “You are not shocked?”

“Of course not.”

Well, maybe a little. But she pitched her voice to a confident level. “I
am
a woman of the world, after all. In fact, I have sung the lead in the opera
La Traviata.
”

She hoped her rapid blinking didn’t belie her bold words. She might have sung the notes of a doomed prostitute, but she’d never fully understood the tragic Camille’s choices. Her performance had suffered, resulting in the worst reviews of her life.

“Did you enjoy playing the ill-fated courtesan?”

“The story was quite sad,” she said. Then sighed. “I always wished she’d have accepted her young suitor’s love and simply left…” She cleared her throat. “That life.”

That life.

The very same life William had offered her.

Of its own volition, her hand reached for the locket around her neck. She spread her fingers across her collarbone and let out another sigh. If she was honest with herself, she’d admit she’d left London out of fear, not moral conviction. Eventually, she’d have given in to William’s vows of love, just as the fictional Camille had done over and over again with her various suitors.

Bella hadn’t believed in her own inner strength, hadn’t believed she had the character to turn away from her temptation and the sin that came with it.

So she’d run.

She was still running.

“Brace yourself, Miss O’Toole. The play glosses over the harsh reality of a woman dying of consumption.”

She tossed her head back and scoffed at him. “You needn’t worry about me. I’ve seen my share of ugliness in the world. I will not be shocked.”

Oh, but she would be. She was sure of it, yet not for the obvious reasons. She sensed, down to the bottom of her slippers, that she would find a kindred spirit in Lizzie, the prostitute.

And that, Bella thought miserably, told the true state of her wretched sinner’s soul.

Stepping quickly to the ground, Shane studied the area surrounding his feet. Confident the last remaining rat had fled, he proceeded to Miss O’Toole’s side of the carriage.

“Ready to start our day?” he asked in what he hoped
was a pleasant enough voice, one that would soothe away the majority of her fears.

At her wide-eyed stare, a thread of discomfort wiggled through his conscience. Perhaps he should have brought her to the front door after all. Perhaps his scheme to toss her immediately into the thick of things wasn’t as well-thought out as he’d told himself.

Unfortunately, it was too late for second guesses. What was done was done. He’d simply have to do his best to protect her from this point forward.

Inching toward the edge of her seat, she squeezed her eyes shut a moment then said, “I suppose I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

Shane stifled a smile at the muffled squeak in her voice, the one she was trying so hard to hide behind a brilliant smile.

Oh, she was a brave one. He’d give her that.

In spite of the fact that her eyes brimmed with mistrust and she glared at the ground around his feet, Shane knew Miss O’Toole would exit the buggy. Eventually.

He wished she’d lift her head and look at him, though. She would only make herself miserable if she continued searching for rats—especially since there was a high possibility she’d find one. Or twelve.

Well, rodents or not, they had a schedule to keep.

Stretching out his hand, he waited patiently for her to gather her courage.

Still glaring at his feet, she took a fortifying breath, boldly placed her palm into his and finally looked him directly in the eye.

An unmistakable scratching noise filled the silence.

Her face drained of color.

He opened his mouth to make some inane comment about nothing to fear, he would protect her from the big bad rats, but words failed him. “I…” He broke off, wrapped his hand tighter around hers and gave an encouraging squeeze.

She gripped him back with equal intensity.

He should release her. No doubt about it. And yet, Shane clutched her fingers as though she was the most important thing ever to come across his path.

Lord, what’s happening here?

Struggling for air, he drew her slowly to the ground. Only after she found her balance did he release her hand.

This was going to be one very long day.

“After you,” he said.

“Right.”

To his amusement, she set out at a slow, careful pace, tiptoeing as though she could escape notice one baby step at a time. He allowed a slow smile to spread across his lips.

The woman was anything but dull.

And her rat phobia was oddly charming.

Still grinning at Miss O’Toole’s wretched attempt to avoid detection, Shane lifted his medical bag and took off after her.

Thankfully, no furry creature dared tread in their path thus far. Pulling alongside her, Shane gripped Miss O’Toole’s elbow and led her to the backdoor of the brothel.

With each step he silently reviewed the prescribed
plan in his mind. In spite of his previous doubts, he knew it was important to stay the course this morning. Everyone, especially their patients, depended on Miss O’Toole fulfilling her appointed duties without hesitation just as she’d done yesterday with Ethan.

No matter what they came across today, Shane would not gloss over any portion of the work that lay ahead. If Miss O’Toole was to remain as his assistant for any length of time, she needed to understand exactly what a brothel looked like from behind the scenes. No false sheen. No glamour. Just the harsh reality of shame and early death.

Standing on the back doorstep, Shane considered his assistant’s nervous profile before knocking. Regardless of her “woman of the world” platitudes, she was in for a shock this morning.

But it was Shane who received the biggest surprise when the door swung open and a young woman stared at him from the other side of the threshold.

Two thoughts came to mind. The girl couldn’t be more than fifteen, and he’d never seen her before. She was well-dressed, and unbelievably attractive with her brown hair, blue eyes and light brown skin. Even more startling, innocence radiated out of her.

But there could be only one reason for her presence in the brothel at this time of day. She was one of Mattie’s newest girls, another casualty of the harsh western frontier.

Which made no sense.

Unlike most madams in the territory, Mattie Silks had her own unique set of standards. She had never hired anyone this young before.

Unaware of his thoughts, the girl’s gaze flitted from him to Miss O’Toole and back to him again.

“May I help you?” she asked in a voice just above a squeak, sounding much like Miss O’Toole had when she’d discovered the alley’s rodent problem.

Shane stepped forward. “I’m Dr. Bartlett. Would you please inform Miss Silks I have arrived?”

The girl’s gaze dropped to the medical bag in his hand. “Oh. Yes, of course.”

The relief in her young voice made Shane smile. She was not one of Mattie’s girls. Yet.

But how long would that hold true? Had Mattie relaxed her standards for this beautiful child?

Watching the young woman pivot and then walk out of the room with guileless elegance, Shane shuddered at the inevitable tragedy her life would become if something wasn’t done soon.

Yet, what could he do?

He would alert Pastor Beau of her existence. Surely, the preacher would know what course of action to take next.

Feeling a bit more hopeful, Shane dragged an unsteady hand through his hair and offered up a silent prayer.
Lord, You are the Great Protector. I pray You keep that young girl from falling into the sin of this house.

“You don’t think she’s—” Miss O’Toole let out an audible breath. “You know. A…a…”

“No.”

She turned to look at him.

Their gazes locked.

Held.

Held.

“You are sure of this?”

“Completely.”

Her brows drew into a delicate frown and she angled her head in confusion. “But how do you know?”

“I know.”

Her left eyebrow lifted a fraction closer to her hairline, giving her a slightly wounded look. “You can simply look at someone and know that sort of thing?”