Luke’s Runaway Bride (11 page)

Travis and Luke balked at the women’s harsh glances.

“Oh, you poor thing,” said Jenny, comforting her friend.

Olivia rocked on her feet and wiped her nose.

“You’re upset. Sit down a minute.”

It looked to Luke as if Olivia’s condition had more to do with the drink in front of her than her circumstances. When he glanced at Travis, the man replied, “It was the only way I could keep her from blasting a hole through my head. Offering her a brandy toddy and the cards.”

“How do you know how to gamble?” Jenny asked Olivia.

Olivia sniffed. “The Windsor sisters taught me twenty-one.” She fanned out her cards. “I’ll take another.”

The piano playing got louder, drawing all eyes to the stage. Lola introduced herself to the cheering crowd, and people hollered for Luke and his group to sit down.

What could they do but sit?

“First thing tomorrow,” Jenny whispered into his ear, causing his pulse to race. “We’re leaving first thing tomorrow.”

Luke wedged himself into the chair next to her, just as Travis slid beside Olivia. The movement magnified the pain in Luke’s side. When his sleeve brushed Jenny’s, she snatched her arm away, as if his touch were poison.

With a sigh of frustration, he concentrated on the show.

Dressed in her usual slinky costume, a flesh-colored body stocking that looked almost transparent over her corset, topped with pleated satin skirts, Lola crooned out a number. Her voice was low and silky, hypnotic magic that eased your tired soul. She was a crowd pleaser, her forty-year-old figure plump and curvaceous.

“Oh, my Lord, a burlesque show,” Jenny croaked.

“It’s not burlesque,” said Luke.

“It is, too. Look what she’s wearing. Her bodice is barely visible.”

“I like it.”

Jenny flushed and glanced away, snatching her arm back from his again. “Well, you would. But it’s lewd.”

“She’s got a great voice. I’ll bet better than anything you’ve ever heard in Boston.” But even as he said the words, Luke was imagining Jenny in Lola’s scant costume—

“Drinks, anyone?” asked the barmaid.

Luke peered into round Italian eyes. Mona, a short buxom woman, prematurely graying from the four children she was raising alone, gave Jenny the once-over. Then she cast a maddening glance in Luke’s direction, as if questioning his motives.

Luke fumbled to sit straighter. “Mona, I’d like you to meet Jenny. She’s Daniel’s fiancée.”

“Well, whaddya know.” Mona laughed. “But she’s here with you tonight.” He felt his neck grow warm. What did Mona know, anyway? “Pleased to meet you, sweetheart. What’ll you have?”

“Nothing, thank you.”

Luke ordered a round of ale for the table, and Olivia had a mint julep. He ordered one for Jenny, too, but when it came she let it sit there, untouched. Over the next half hour, as the singing continued, Jenny seemed to resign herself to the fact that she was staying put tonight.

He knew there was nothing he could do about her leaving in the morning, but there was plenty he could do to help her unwind. Nothing wrong with her enjoying herself, was there?

He took another swig of ale. The more he drank, the better his ribs felt. “You sure you won’t try a mint julep?”

“I’ll have some tea, if you have it, please.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Tea and honey soothes my stomach,” she justified. She sniffed again, a habit she’d picked up since entering his saloon, and it was beginning to bother him.

“I thought people from Boston didn’t like tea.”

“Very funny. What else do you know about people from Boston?” Her voice held a note of humor.

Not much, but I’d like to.
A slow, easy smile tugged at his lips. She blushed and he guzzled another mouthful of ale.
Stop it. She’s Daniel’s. With any luck, it’ll still work out between her, Daniel and Adam.

While Lola took a break, the card game resumed, and the level of noise and conversation in the saloon exploded. Jenny’s tea arrived. The cook brought out a jar of liquid honey, and Luke sensed Jenny was finally beginning to relax.

Leaning back in her chair, Jenny sipped her tea. She sighed and studied people at the bar. “You have such a different mix of people here, all these different cultures.”

Luke followed her gaze to the five bartenders. One of them was dark-skinned—Travis’s younger brother—and another was Luke’s most trusted friend, Lee, an Asian man with cropped black hair and an easy smile. “Lee’s the best bartender. He can pour twice as fast as the rest of them, and he has a real nice way of listening to the customers.”

She pushed her blond tendrils from her face. “How did he come to work here?”

“We met in jail. He saved me from the thief who slit my throat and left me for dead, and—”

“Oh,” she gulped.

It had been a turning point in his life, the day Lee found him in the gutter. It was the day Luke had hit rock bottom and he’d decided he was through with fighting.

“And?” she prompted him.

“And in return, I brought in the men who burned down Lee’s house.”

“Oh,” she said again, clutching her shawl. She
must
be hot. He noticed beads of moisture along her upper lip. “I think it’s all rather…rather—” she swallowed “—
exciting.
”

Exciting? Well, now, didn’t that beat all. He was getting someplace, chipping through her crusty veneer. He leaned back in his seat and crossed his booted feet. Exciting was good.

She began to warm up toward him. When he ordered a round of beef stew for the table, at first Jenny resisted, then buttered a slice of sourdough bread and dug in. Something about her hearty appetite made him weak at the knees. All that slurping.

She started asking about people in the saloon, and he began telling her where they were from.

“Really?” she said, reaching for another slice of bread and butter and jam. “The banker’s from California? And his wife is from South America?”

With dismay that turned to bemusement, Luke watched her accidentally dip one sleeve, then the other, into her bowl of stew. He glanced at her mint julep. It was almost gone. So she’d decided to try it. And the drink was making her clumsy.

“You sure you don’t want some?” she said, smacking her lips and licking her fingers.

A drop of gravy slid down her blouse and his gaze followed it, down her buttoned collar, over the swell of her breasts. His pulse danced with excitement. When his eyes flashed up to meet hers, her color deepened. The unspoken implication electrified the air.
Would he like some? Yes, he would.

The banjo strummed near the stage, ending the spell. Lola was getting ready to sing again.

Olivia swayed around in her seat to speak to Jenny. Still breathless from her conversation with Luke, Jenny leaned back. Her fingers caught on the tablecloth, and to everyone’s surprise, she pulled the cloth with her and everything on top of it.

Luke dove to help. He grabbed the spilled teacup, but was unable to catch the honey jar. It rolled over the edge, straight toward Jenny’s lap. “Look out!”

“Ahh…!” She yelped, jumping to her feet. Too late. Honey dripped over Daisy’s tired old skirt, the knitted shawl, the prim line of buttons down Jenny’s blouse.

The room came to a standstill.

Luke leaned back on his heels and surveyed her from head to toe. At least she’d be rid of that stupid shawl. His mouth quirked up at the corner, then despite his best efforts, he began to laugh.

Her mouth fell open and she glared at him.

“You’ve got to admit it’s funny. I’ve been trying to get you to loosen up all night.”

Jenny’s eyes sparkled with mischief. She swayed, ever so slightly. “Loosen up?” She reached for Olivia’s mint julep and stepped toward him.

“Don’t you dare,” he breathed. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll put the drink down.”

“You’re right—seeing you fight for your life is funny.”

“Put it down,” he said slowly, as the hushed crowd watched.

She looked like she was about to relent, reaching for the table, but at the last second, her heel caught on the wet floor and in a flash of legs and arms, she came sliding straight at him. The drink landed in his lap.

He gasped at the blast of coldness. He looked down at his pants with as much dignity as he could muster. Cool liquid trickled down his thighs.

Watching his expression darken, she cupped a hand over her mouth to squelch a laugh.

“You did that on purpose.”

“No,” she said, moving back, “I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.” Someone had to teach this gal a lesson.

“I’m sorry,” she said through her laughter, “you look so ridiculous.” She caught Olivia’s eye, but Olivia wasn’t smiling. Jenny gulped. Her shawl fell to the floor.

He stepped closer.

Glancing around the room at the crowd of fascinated faces watching her, Jenny shrank back. Perspiration popped out on her brow. She stumbled backward around the table as Luke strode deliberately toward her.

“You better run, doll,” Lola hollered from the stage, a ripple of mirth in her voice.

Jenny looked around in desperation and threw an empty chair in his path. “Don’t you come near me!”

“You did that on purpose. Come here and admit it.” Luke was gaining on her and she grew frantic.

Then, somehow, he got blocked between two chairs and she smiled as if she were safe. “You’re nothing but a brute.”

“I’ll show you brute.” If it was a chase she wanted, a chase she’d get. He lunged up onto a table. The crowd gasped, then laughed, removing their steins and glasses.

“Stop right there!” she hollered.

“I won’t,” he yelled, determined to catch her.

People seated nearby cleared their drinks off the tables and he jumped onto one. His spurs jangled. He hopped onto another table, then another, then finally the table closest to Jenny. He jumped down in front of her, grabbed her by her sticky waist and flung her over his shoulder. She screamed. He deflected her flailing arms and kicks. He heard laughter from the crowd. Lots of it, as he hauled her up the stairs.

She wouldn’t get away this time.

“You show her, Luke!” they cheered.

Luke turned and grinned. He clenched a fist in the air, as if he’d just won a boxing match.

He lost his footing on the stairs. He was a little tipsy himself. “Whoa….”

“Ooo….” the crowd responded.

Jenny twisted and kicked. “Put me down! That’s enough!”

Luke regained his balance and the crowd clapped. He removed his hat to take a bow. He turned on the stairs, wobbly, then caught himself and lurched up the remaining steps.

“Whoa,” Luke muttered, stumbling down the hall to his room. He yanked on the knob and crashed through the door, dropping Jenny onto the big iron bed.

“You know you’re covered with honey?” he asked, inches from her face.

It started as a whisper of a smile on her lips. Then that low rumble caught at the back of her throat.

Husky and warm, it filled the empty corners of the room. He laughed with her, and it touched a lonely place in him no one had touched in years. He used to laugh like this with his brothers, as a child, pulling pranks and causing trouble. He let Jenny and her laughter take him, and for a moment, allowed himself to forget about the problems that weighed upon his shoulders.

S
prawled on the bed, covered with sticky honey, Jenny peered up at Luke.

She was beginning to think she’d never stop laughing. It erased the tension in her muscles, slowly and gently, until she felt like a melted ball of bees-wax.

Her eyes stung with exhaustion. She’d hardly slept in two days. She wasn’t sure if it was the weariness in her bones making her laugh, or the alcohol, or the sight of Luke trying to remain tough, but instead, looking drowned and beaten. His hair was smeared with honey. His crotch was soaked with booze, and three sprigs of mint leaves were glued to his button fly. She burst into more gales.

“It sure takes an army to make you laugh.” Tossing his hat in the corner, he stumbled past the shaded window, either a little tipsy, or just as exhausted as she.

He lit the oil lamp, and the sparse furnishings glowed—an iron bed, a bedside dresser, a chest of drawers and two slat-back chairs by the door. Oh my, she thought, looking around at the few things, he lived here? He didn’t own much.

Turning back toward her, he gave in to her smile. “Turn around and don’t look.” He began unbuckling his belt.

Her smile faded. She bolted upright. “What are you doing?”

He staggered back, trying to focus on the belt holes. “I’m taking off my pants.”

What?
“Oh, no, you’re not. You’re not thinking straight.”

“A man doesn’t have to think straight to know his pants are wet.”

“You’re keeping your pants on,” she ordered like a drill sergeant, “you hear me?”

He paused. “This is my room and I’m changing. Your turn’s next. I promise I won’t peek.”

Panic seized her. What in tarnation was she doing here, alone with a man in his room?

He rubbed his ribs through his shirt and winced. The tender gesture caught her off guard. He must be sore. He’d been two days on his feet, wounded and tired. The drinking had helped his pain, but what he needed most was rest.

Stumbling to the edge of the bed, he sat and tugged off his boots. The mattress creaked and jostled beneath him, then her. When he undid his shirt buttons, she snapped to attention.

She dashed to the door, turned the glass knob and peered out at the saloon below. Lola stood poised to sing. Olivia and Travis were gone. Several people glanced up at her, tittering and pointing. “Come on out, Miss Jenny, we won’t do you no harm. We’ll put you up on stage and you can sing with Lola!”

Her heart clamored. She slammed the door.

“What’s the matter now?” He’d removed his shirt and stood there. She gulped. Shirtless. Rippling muscles. Hairy. Bandaged.

“If you take off your wet skirt,” he said, sliding off his belt, “I’ll get someone to wash these clothes.”

Was he crazy? Remove her clothing? Time to leave.

She raced to the door, yanked it open once more and ran down the stairs. She didn’t get far. The crowd was good at its word. Two young men lunged at her to lift her to the stage. Three horrifying minutes later, she freed herself and raced back up the stairs. She bolted through Luke’s door.

“Stop right there,” Luke thundered, reeling around with a drawn gun.

Her cheeks burned with fire.

Luke was stark blazing naked.

Standing in the middle of the room, he was trying to hold on to the gun while pulling the bedsheet over his lower half. “You again?” His face flushed. “I thought you left.”

She gulped like an idiot. “The crowd is chasing me.”

In the semidarkness, she stared at his striking figure.

So this was what a man looked like. She couldn’t catch her breath. Heat rushed through her, down her thighs and legs. She turned away and shut her eyes, but the image was burned into her mind. He was all muscles and tanned skin, right down to his white…She couldn’t think of the proper word. His white…well, his white behind.

He was stark blazing naked, and the only thing standing between her and his privates was a thin cotton sheet.

She swallowed rapidly. How did she get into this mess? The thoughts racing through her mind were not those of a lady engaged to someone else.

Ready to escape, she spun to the door. But where to? She couldn’t run out the door; a lynch mob was waiting for her. And from two flights up, she couldn’t escape out the window, because there was no balcony on this side of the building.

Feeling light-headed, she took several deep breaths. She grabbed a chair, placed it facing the door and plunked down with her back to Luke. She put her head between her knees to stop her dizziness. Honey was spreading everywhere. She didn’t care.

“What in blazes are you doing?”

“I’m…I’m sitting right here until Lola’s finished singing and…and the coast is clear.”

“That’ll be awhile, and I can’t stand up any longer.” He stifled a yawn. “You must be tired, too.” Another wave of panic assailed her when she heard him blow out the lamp and lift the window shade. What was he doing? Moonlight filled the room. “No sense wasting a good bed. Come here and get some sleep.”

Her muscles tensed. “You go ahead without me.”

“Don’t make me come and get you.”

Her heart jumped. “Don’t you dare.”

“I’m going to count to ten and then, ready or not, I’m coming.
One.
”

She couldn’t breathe. Her mind raced, searching for a way to divert him.

“Two.”

“I’m not tired.”

“Three.”

Did she detect humor in his tone? Was he kidding with her, or was he serious? “The bed’s…the bed’s not big enough for both of us.”

“We’ll figure something out.
Four.
”

Drops of perspiration beaded at her hairline. “But you’re not wearing anything.”

“I won’t tell anyone. You should take your clothes off, too, before you get the whole room covered in honey.”

“Never.”

“Five!”

“For God’s sake, I’m engaged. Have you no decency?”

“Indecent people need rest, too. We need it more than anyone else.”

Flee.
She had to flee. What she wouldn’t give for a stick of dynamite. She’d fling it down the stairs and clear the widest darn path anyone had ever seen.

Sitting rigid, still with her head between her knees, she was terrified she’d feel his arms around her at any moment. But in her traitorous mind, the maddening image pounding through it was one of a very handsome, kissable,
naked
man putting his arms around her and tugging her into his bed.

Oh, she didn’t deserve to breathe.

The bed creaked and her stomach tossed. She prayed he was only rolling over. She knew it was wrong of her to hope so, but she hoped his ribs were too sore to move.

He moaned softly.
“Six.”

Fall asleep, please fall asleep.
She didn’t move. Before she had time to swallow, she heard his bare feet on the plank floor. She yelped. “You’re only at number six! You said ten!”

He ignored her protest. As naked as Mother Nature had created him, as irresistible as any man she’d ever known, he bent to scoop her up.

She vaulted to the door, clawed the knob and dashed down the hallway, screaming the words she knew would clear the biggest path. “Fire! Fire! Fire!”

She didn’t stop running until she found Olivia in the kitchen, and by that time, the rowdy crowd had calmed down enough to realize there was no fire. Only when Jenny was in the solitude of Olivia’s room, scrubbed clean, lying in bed and gazing up at the rafters, did she allow herself to think of Luke again. A naked man with his gun drawn. A sillier sight she’d never seen.

She fell asleep with a smile on her lips, dreaming of Luke and every line and contour of his naked body.

Her warm dreams turned to sobering visions of Daniel arriving in the morning. What would she say to him? And what would he say to her?

“Do you see anything yet?” Olivia asked the next morning, dressed in a borrowed, brown muslin day dress, standing on the tracks beside Jenny. The telegraph office loomed behind her.

Jenny teetered on the edge of the wooden platform, peering into the blue horizon, looking for any sign of a train. “Not yet, but we’re early.” She tilted her face to the brilliant morning sun. She was waiting for her beloved.

Daniel was coming to rescue her today.

A few people milled about the stationhouse, and two farmers with a crate of clucking chickens said howdy.

As she strolled the platform, Jenny adjusted her blouse—Daisy’s blouse, this one just as worn at the elbows, with the same chipped, mismatched buttons. Jenny had promised she’d return it when she got back to Denver. She passed the time by watching passengers board the train that had arrived from Omaha earlier and was now heading to San Francisco.

Soon this charade would be over, and Jenny would confirm what she’d known all along. That a mistake had been made, that Daniel was not Adam’s father. She didn’t know who or where Adam’s real father was, but just thinking of the man trying to shirk his responsibilities caused her stomach to become upset.

Did Adam cry himself to sleep when he thought of his mama? What would happen to him? Where would he live?

Maybe someone would adopt him. Someone nice.

Jenny groaned. Was she putting her own needs in front of the boy’s? Did she just want Daniel all for herself? Was that why she hoped Daniel wasn’t Adam’s father?

Looking at the wispy clouds, she sent up a silent little prayer, asking that, by some miracle, Adam’s real father would hear of Maria’s death and step forward on his own accord to claim his son.

Yes, she thought, smiling in the mellow chinook wind, that might happen. With Luke’s help it might.

Luke.
Turning away from the platform, she paced in the other direction. Why did his strong, muscular presence always send her pulse racing?

Her escapade last night had been witnessed by a hundred people. Her face grew hot with the memory. Thank God she never had to lay eyes on any of them again. She’d never forgive him for what he’d put her and Olivia through. How could he claim to be any friend of Daniel’s?

Father always said a good wife put her faith in her husband, and that’s what Jenny would do. Today, she’d learn the truth from Daniel himself, and this blasted mess would clear.

And
she’d
return to the crate of bridal fabrics sitting in her front hall. All that beautiful monogrammed hosiery. Her white silk wedding stockings, the thighs already embroidered with her impending initials, Mrs. D. K.

She brightened at the thought.

Olivia stepped beside her, returning the smile with one of her own. “Sure was a crazy night last night.”

“I wonder if every evening’s like that at the saloon.”

“I doubt it. I think you gave a certain spontaneity to the place, all that commotion about fire.”

Jenny giggled. The saloon was a lot different than she’d imagined. Her family had always attended Boston outings like the orchestra and opera, but never in such a mixed crowd of people and cultures. The level of tolerance and acceptance in Luke’s saloon was much broader than anything she’d ever experienced, and she felt as if some dormant energy inside her had burst to life.

She hoped she’d see this side of Denver, too. Why didn’t Daniel take her to places where she could meet more hardworking, ordinary people? People who reminded her of her hardworking grandparents. She’d ask him first chance she got.

A thought nibbled at her. The saloon had been packed last night. The money had flowed thick and fast. Luke was not as down on his luck as she’d first suspected. This kidnapping was not a plea for money. She swallowed and refused to think about it.

“Did you notice what the women were wearin’ last night?” asked Olivia. “The ones in the audience, I mean. Why, no one in Boston has worn a hooped crinoline for five years.”

“Um-hmm.”

“And we both know that bright colors are the rage in Europe. The dresses here are so dark and gloomy. No wonder the women snap up the Parisian dresses sold in the street.”

“Um-hmm.”

“Did you see the size of their bonnets? They shield the entire face, which I suppose is fine for daylight, but in the evenin’, well, they’re simply outdated. I much prefer the smaller, stylish ones adorned with a feather.”

“Women lead a hard life here, farming and ranching. They don’t have much more than catalog stores to shop in, same as Denver. Certainly nowhere near the choice we had in Boston. It takes awhile for new styles to reach them.”

Olivia scratched her chin. “What’s wrong with a woman wanting pretty things? Especially if she’s working hard?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re the one who said it when we first arrived in Denver. You said if the women are happy, it’ll keep the men happier. Don’t the men know that?”

The ground rumbled. Jenny scanned the tracks and her eyes settled on the horizon, at the long train puffing steam. Both women yelped with delight. Daniel was coming.

Someone brushed Jenny’s elbow. She looked up.

Luke. Dressed in a crisp white shirt. Freshly shaved, with slicked back hair. His massive shoulders blocked the sun.

Her heart pounded. “What are you doing here? If you’ve come to try and stop me—”

“I’ve come to try and protect you.”

“Protect me?” Her lips dried. “Don’t be silly. I don’t need protection. From who? From Daniel?” She shook her head. “Please, step back. Let me greet my…my beloved in private.”

Luke’s jaw twitched. “All right. I’ll be standing right over here, by the stationhouse, if you need me.”

She watched him plant himself ten feet away. Trying to regain some control over her careening pulse, she tried not to think of last night. The moonlight in his room…his white, gleaming backside…

Wheels screeched behind her.

She spun toward the train and snatched a breath of air. Dozens of people descended. Jenny looked hungrily at the faces. No Daniel. He must be on the last car. She began walking, faster and faster, her pulse mimicking her steps. Finally, at the last car, a man stepped out with a face she recognized.