Dare to Love (65 page)

Suddenly, out of nowhere, three men on horseback came tearing down the street, shouting raucously, firing their pistols wildly. A window shattered. A woman shrieked in terror. The gunfire was deafening, explosion following explosion, as shards and splinters went flying in all directions.

As the riders raced past, Bradford stopped the buggy and grabbed his gun. I cried out. Up ahead Anthony looked up, startled and confused as the horsemen tore past him. Then, clutching his chest, he reeled forward, stumbling into the street, and fell to his knees as a vivid red stain spread across his white satin waistcoat.

Millie tried to hold me back, but I tore free and leaped from the buggy. Slipping and stumbling in the mud, elbowing my way through the gathering crowd, I ran to Anthony. He was still holding his chest, that same startled expression on his face.

“A doctor,” I pleaded. “Please get a doctor.”

“Elena,” he said. “Is that you? Elena?”

“It's me, Anthony. I'm here.”

“Don't know what happened. I was just standing there, looking for a carriage, and—”

He gasped and closed his eyes. The wet red stain grew. He tried to say something else, but he couldn't speak. Sitting down in the mud, I pulled his head and shoulders onto my lap. He opened his eyes and looked up at me. I smoothed the hair from his forehead. His cheeks were a deathly white, as he looked up at me with glazed eyes. He frowned, unable to understand why I was holding him, why all those people were gathered around us.

“Must be dreaming.…” he muttered.

“Anthony—”

“Elena? What are you doing here, luv? Elena! Christ—something hit me. What hap—”

“Don't try to talk. They've gone to get a doctor. Everything is going to be all right. You were hurt, but—”

“Hurt? I—I can feel it. Elena—you came. Knew you couldn't stay angry with me, luv. I have something to tell you. I—”

He gasped again, his eyes widening. I held him tightly, my tears falling onto his face. He grimaced as the pain increased, and then he sighed and looked exasperated with the whole thing.

“What I meant to say—been meaning to for years, luv—what I want to say is—What are we doing out on the street? Who are all these people? You're getting your gown all muddy, luv. Just look at it. What's going on? Did—am I going to—”

“Hush,” I said. “Hush, my darling.”

“I love you. That's what I meant to say. It was always you. I never told you before because—I didn't want you getting any—big ideas. I could never settle down, and—”

Gazing up at me with wide blue eyes that could no longer see, he tried desperately to focus, and after a moment he recognized me again. He started to say something else and then he went limp in my arms. I cradled him, holding him against me while my tears splattered on his face. He could no longer feel them. Anthony was dead.

XLVI

Nick Wayne helped me down from his carriage with the same thoughtful concern he had shown every day over the past five weeks. He was a polite, attentive, kind gentleman and I felt completely at ease with him. He seemed so capable of handling any situation that I had come to depend on him. Certainly, I would never have been able to get through the period after Anthony's death without him. He had taken over, arranging the funeral, settling with the theater management, doing everything he could to make things easier for me. And though I owed him a great deal, Nick had never indicated he wanted anything in return. During all this time he hadn't so much as attempted to kiss me goodnight. I was grateful for that.

“It's rather a steep climb,” he said. “Think you can make it?”

“I'm not an invalid, Nick. I wish you'd stop treating me like one.”

He smiled his attractive smile, which was both warm and humorous. Nick Wayne was born to dominate. The full curve of his lower lip suggested a hearty sensual appetite, and his powerful build indicated unusual prowess. Any woman would feel fortunate to have him. I knew that I could. Of course he was merely biding his time. And I wondered what I would do when he finally made his move.

“Climbing hills outside the city isn't my idea of the perfect afternoon outing,” I remarked.

“Wait till we get to the top. The view is spectacular.”

“I've worn the wrong shoes. I can see that already.”

Nick smiled again and took my hand as we started up the rocky, chaparral-studded hill, one of several that rose beyond Stockton Street. Rocks and scrubby brush and coarse grass made the climb difficult, and a brisk wind didn't help matters. The skirt of my dark blue dress billowed up over the ruffles of my white petticoats, and strands of hair fluttered across my temples as the wind tore at my French roll.

I stumbled over a rock. Nick gripped my hand firmly, supporting me, and we continued to climb. Though I pretended to be put out, actually I was enjoying myself. It was a glorious afternoon, the sky a clear light blue, sunlight sparkling, the air laced with the aroma of wild plants and soil. Since Anthony's death, Nick had kept me engaged almost every evening, and several afternoons we had gone for rides along the coast in his open carriage. Despite his attentions, I had spent far too much time alone in my hotel room, grieving, filled with remorse. It was good to be out in the open, to be moving about.

“How much further to the top?” I inquired.

“We're almost there.”

“Does this hill have a name?”

“Officially it's called Fern Hill, but a number of very wealthy men have been buying lots up here—society people—and a lad in the land office refers to it as snob hill. Only he doesn't pronounce the ‘s.' So, folks are beginning to call it Nob Hill.”

“Enchanting,” I said.

We reached the top of the hill, and Nick let go of my hand. I brushed the strands of hair from my face, only to have them fly back a moment later. My skirt lifted and billowed, and the green scarf around Nick's throat whipped against the lapels of his suede jacket. His reddish-brown hair, burnished by the sunlight, had taken on a bronze hue. His size and strength made me feel very vulnerable, very feminine. I was extremely grateful to this man who had devoted so much time to me, who had helped when I most needed help.

“Here it is,” he said.

Looking around at the scrub-covered land, I was at a complete loss. “Why would anyone want to purchase lots up here?” I asked. “There's no way you could build, no way you could get the materials up the hill.”

“Strong wagons and mules could make it, particularly if some system of pulleys were installed to help. San Francisco is growing by the minute, Elena, and it's bound to grow in this direction.”

“You own some land?”

“I own the land we're standing on. I'm going to build a house here, a grand mansion. I already have an architect drawing up plans. In a few years Nob Hill will be the most exclusive area in the city.”

“Impossible to reach,” I added.

“We'll work something out. Turn around, Elena.”

As I turned, I caught my breath. The view was spectacular indeed, all San Francisco spread out below us, hills sloping and leveling all the way down to the shoreline, great clusters of houses and buildings and intersecting streets bathed in brilliant sunlight, rooftops jutting up at different angles, water and ships beyond. It was beautiful and somehow inspiring. I saw immediately why Fern Hill might become a desirable location for homes of the wealthy. A man would feel like a king standing there on the steps of his home, surveying the city below.

“It was worth the climb,” I said quietly.

“How do you feel about San Francisco, Elena?”

“I—I don't quite know what you mean.”

“Do you think you could be happy here?”

“Happy? I no longer think in terms of happiness.”

“I could make you happy,” he told me.

He was standing next to me and he took hold of my arm just above the elbow, drawing me back against him. I wanted to lean back, to rest against that large, sturdy body, forget all my cares and let him take command. He wanted to, and it would have been so easy to let him. It would have been nice to let someone else take care of me. But I stood very still, refusing to lean back, not yet ready to make that decision. His fingers tightened slightly on my arm. His deep, beautifully modulated voice was husky in my ear.

“You know I want you, Elena.”

“I know, Nick.”

“I've been very patient.”

“I realize that and I appreciate it.”

“I wanted to give you time. I know Duke's death was a terrible blow, and—”

“I don't want to discuss it, Nick.”

“You made no effort to leave San Francisco. You've made no plans at all, as far as I know. I thought perhaps you were staying because of me. I'd like to think so.”

“You've been—very good to me, Nick. It was marvelous of you to settle with Clark. I know he intended for me to fulfill my contract, but I—I could never have done it. After that night …” I hesitated, a tremor in my voice. “I know you had to pay Clark a great deal of money to buy out my contract.”

“I did so willingly.”

“You've been kind and attentive and—I don't think I would have made it if it hadn't been for you. I'm grateful, Nick, but I'm not in love with you.”

“Not yet,” he said.

His strong arms inched around my waist, drawing me against him, and I didn't try to resist. As I rested my head against his shoulder, I could feel his warmth, and I could smell the masculine odor of his body. I felt fragile and weak, knowing he could crush me in his arms, but I felt secure, too, knowing he wanted to cherish and protect me.

“I thought you would leave,” he said. “Every day I was afraid you would tell me you'd packed, that you were going home.”

“I have no home. There's no place to go back to.”

“Make your home here, Elena. With me.”

“Nick—”

“I know why you turned down all my gifts,” he continued. “You thought my intentions were dishonorable, and they were. I might as well admit it. I wanted to sleep with you. I thought I could win you with jewels—have the famous Elena Lopez as my mistress. It would have been a great coup. Every man in California would have envied me. I still want to sleep with you, Elena, but I want to do it legally. I want to marry you.”

He tightened his arms around my waist, holding me fast. I closed my eyes, giving way, too weary to argue, too weary to protest. Nick rested his cheek against mine.

“I'm already a wealthy man, and I'm going to be a very important man, too. I'm selling the gambling halls. I have plans to get into politics. In a few years I might well be governor. I want you at my side, Elena. I want to make you First Lady of California.”

He turned me around in his arms so that I was facing him, and I tilted my head back to look up into those sober brown eyes. His expression was serious. I could feel the power he exuded, but I sensed his ruthlessness as well. I had been aware of that from the first. A man would have to be ruthless to achieve what he had achieved, to reach the goals he planned to reach.

“I love you, Elena,” he told me. “I know you loved Duke. I know you haven't gotten over his death yet, but I think I can make you love me. I think I can make you happy.”

His lips covered mine, and he kissed me for a long time, tenderly, carefully, deliberately holding back the urgent passion that possessed him. It was a chaste kiss, but only because he exercised the greatest control. As his mouth continued to caress and savor my own, I sensed that Nick Wayne would be a vigorous, masterful lover, and I was not immune to his physical attractions. I just wasn't ready to succumb to them.

He released me and looked into my eyes, looking for an answer. Finding none, he sighed heavily. “I won't press you, Elena. I know you need time. I just want you to promise me you'll consider my proposal.”

“I'll consider it, Nick.”

“That's enough—for now,” he said and smiled. “I intend to be very persuasive in days to come.”

“No diamonds,” I said lightly.

“No diamonds,” he promised, “but after you marry me, I'm going to cover you with jewels and you'd damn well better like it.”

The smile played on his lips, his eyes fond and full of humor, and then he pulled me to him and kissed me again, wrapping his arms around me. The kiss was brief, breezy, affectionate, and I enjoyed it immensely. I liked Nick Wayne a great deal. Perhaps in time I would be able to love him.

“I guess I'd better get you back to the hotel,” he said. “I've got to attend a committee meeting at three. We're going to discuss a new sewage system.”

“Fascinating.”

“Necessary,” he retorted.

“I need to get back, too. I promised Millie I'd go shopping with her. She's probably waiting.”

He gripped my hand tightly and led me down the steep slope to the carriage, and I only stumbled once, catching my skirt on some spiky brush. Nick unfastened it, smiling broadly, clearly pleased with the way everything had gone. I felt very good myself as we drove back to the hotel. Today, for a while, I had been able to put my grief completely aside. Thanks to Nick I was beginning to feel better, to acknowledge that life must go on.

When we reached the hotel, I placed my hand on his arm and could feel the hard muscle beneath the sleeve of his suede jacket as I kissed his cheek and said, “Thank you, Nick.”

“I'll see you tonight,” he informed me. “I'm going to take you to a Chinese restaurant.”

“Oh?”

“It's just a tumbledown shack with a triangular yellow silk flag hanging in front, but the food is sensational. Afterwards we'll wander around the Chinese district. I might even buy you some firecrackers and a paper fan.”

“I'd love that.”

We said goodbye, and I went on up to my suite. I had barely finished freshening up when Millie arrived, looking lovely in a sky blue dress, her golden curls falling to her shoulders in the usual shiny cascade. She had hired a carriage to take us to Montgomery Street, and she was in an unusually serene mood as we rode along. There was a pensive look in her eyes; a few casual remarks took the place of her usual bright chatter. I could tell by her manner that she had something important to tell me, but she wasn't ready to blurt it out. We spent a good two-and-a-half hours in the large, jumbled stores, leaving only because the driver had promised to pick us up at five-thirty.