Just After Midnight: Historical Romance (15 page)

Alex hesitated, clearly uneasy at the thought of letting her do what he considered his job. Finally, he nodded. “All right. But I want to know exactly what she says as soon as you’ve talked to her.”

“Fine, but I’d do best to wait until we close tonight. She wouldn’t be too receptive to me if I cut into her dance time.”

“True,” he agreed, moving to the door. “I have to get back and talk to the colonel. I don’t think you should leave The Celebration without me. I’ll stop by later.” He opened the door, then paused. “And Megan . . .”

“Yes?”

“Thanks for worrying about me.” He leaned over and kissed her quickly on the lips before slipping out the door.

Megan crossed the room to sit at her desk. He hadn’t exactly apologized for his behavior the night they’d made love. But he seemed to be sorry he hadn’t trusted her. Still, she yearned for some acknowledgment of the fact that she’d given herself to him when she had never done so with any other. But to ask for the words would render the sentiments useless. Knowing the depth of Alex’s commitment to his job and his sister, any relationship would be relegated to second place until he had the answers he craved. And what if the answer were that her father had, indeed, abandoned Joanna? Would Alex ever be able to look at her without seeing the daughter of the man who had driven Joanna Carson to her death? Would she be able to look at him without wondering if he thought just that?

By the time the dance hall was empty and Megan went looking for Queen, the woman had already gone to her room. Climbing the stairs, Megan hoped fervently that her friend had not gone to bed yet. Tales of Queen’s temper upon being awakened after a night of hard work were legend. Megan didn’t need a tongue-lashing, but she had to talk to Queen—or Alex would.

She knocked tentatively on the door to the woman’s room, letting out the breath she’d been holding when Queen called a jovial, “Come on in.”

The dancer lounged on her bed in her favorite purple silk robe. Megan often wondered if Queen had to pay extra for her clothes since they obviously needed more material than usual for an average dress.

“Lovey, I thought you’d be sleepin’ by now. Or at least entertainin’ that man of yours.”

Megan blushed, uncomfortable with the knowledge that everyone knew about her relationship with Alex.

“I wanted to talk to you.” Megan pulled a chair next to the bed.

“There a problem downstairs?”

“Nothing like that. We’re making money hand over fist here thanks to your help. I wonder that Papa never asked you to be a partner, Queen. You really have a talent for bringing in the customers.”

“Brian asked, but I wasn’t interested. I like to pick up and move on when the mood takes me. Brian understood that.”

“You were good friends.”

“We were at that. Never met a man I could get along with like your papa.”

“What about Big Ian?” Megan asked, seeing her opening and jumping in with both feet.

Queen frowned. “What about him?”

“He seems to have taken a liking to you.”

“So have a lot of others. That doesn’t mean I want to marry ‘em.”

“No, I just wondered how well you knew Ian.”

Queen’s eyes narrowed, and Megan stifled the urge to squirm under her friend’s gaze.

“What’s it to you?” Queen asked.

“I wondered if he ever mentioned having a claim on the Bonanza or if he might go and visit someone who did?”

“Why?”

“He’s been missing a long time and I thought maybe he’d gone to work a claim.”

“Ian’s got his finger in enough pies in town, he don’t need to be mining a claim. Where’d you get such an idea?” Understanding dawned on Queen’s face. “You’re questioning me for your Mountie friend. They can’t find Ian, so he sent you to see if I knew where the big ox might be holed up. Well, even if I did, I’m no liver-faced snitch.”

“I know that.” Megan attempted to soothe the woman, though she
had
hoped to get Queen to “snitch.”

“Well, make sure you remember it then.” Queen sniffed. “When you tell me somethin’, you can rest assured I’ll take it to my grave.”

“Thanks, Queen. You’ve been a real friend.”

Megan stood to leave and Queen rose as well. As she did, something fell from the pocket of her gown, hitting the floor with an odd sound. Megan bent to pick it up, her fingers closing around the hard object seconds before the dancer’s. Megan rose and opened her hand.

Resting on her palm lay a nugget of gold worth a small fortune.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Queen snatched the nugget from Megan’s hand and popped it down the front of her robe. “Thanks, Lovey, wouldn’t want to lose that.”

“I’ve never seen a nugget so big. Where’d you get it, Queen?”

“One of the boys gave it to me. You know how they’re always begging me to run away with ‘em. They try to bribe me, too. I’ve got lots of ‘em, and I usually just spend ‘em as fast as I get ‘em, but this one was so purty I decided to hold onto it for a while. If them boys want to throw away their gold on me, I say let ‘em. A girl’s got to look out for her future.” Queen tilted her chin as if daring Megan to argue with her.

“True,” Megan agreed, wondering as she moved toward the door how many of the other girls had such caches in their rooms. “Sleep well, Queen.”

“Sorry I couldn’t tell you nothin’ about Ian. Tell your Mountie that the big ox will turn up sometime. He just has to be patient.”

Megan returned to her room and replaced her work clothes with a dressing gown, taking down her elaborate hairstyle and twisting the heavy mass into a single braid. As she did so, she wandered around her rooms, coming to a stop in front of the painting of her mother.

The fire in the grate warmed her as she stared at the beloved picture. She had been toying with the idea of moving the painting into her bedroom where she could see it better. Deciding there was no time like the present, Megan moved a chair in front of the fireplace and climbed up, pulling the heavy painting from the wall and awkwardly getting down from her perch. When she glanced back at the now-empty wall, her mouth fell open in surprise. A small door with a lock had been built into the wall.

Climbing back onto the chair, Megan examined the door. There was no handle, only the small hole for a key would open the panel. But where was the key?

She glanced around the room, her brow furrowed with concentration. Where would Papa hide a key?

Her eyes lit on the bedside lamp and she heard her father’s voice. “Meggie girl, I always put my valuables under the mattress. You know I’m a light sleeper. No one’s going to get past me when I’m in dreamland.”

Slowly, she climbed down from the chair and went to the bed, her hand searching beneath the mattress until her fingers encountered a small metal object. Withdrawing it, she looked down at the key in her palm, then glanced up at the locked door. What could be so important that Papa had locked it away? She hurried to find out.

A sharp knock froze her in place, and her gaze went to the door; thankfully, the lock she had ordered was now in place.

“Who’s there?” she called.

“Alex. Can I come in?”

“I’ll be right there.”

Dropping the key into the pocket of her gown, Megan replaced the painting and returned the chair to its place; then she went to open the door. Damon slipped out, and she let him go, knowing Zechariah would allow the now-recovered wolf out to roam the night.

Alex stepped into the room and locked the door behind him before taking her into his arms. Megan had no time to protest before his lips came down on hers.

She had meant to tell him that what was between them could not continue. She couldn’t be what he needed, didn’t want to be the lieutenant’s woman. But all her protests fled as his lips and hands worked their magic.

Somehow they ended up on the floor in front of the fireplace. The heat from the fire matched the heat growing within her, and it was a relief when her gown fell away and the fur rug softly caressed her back. Alex murmured against her warm skin, and she arched against him, welcoming him into her with a sigh.

Afterward, they lay entwined and she smoothed his auburn hair back from his brow, then burrowed against his side. She had never felt more at home with another human being. Perhaps she should forget about what had happened to the other women she had known. She was strong, after all. She wouldn’t fall apart if this man left her. She would always survive.

“Marry me, Megan,” Alex whispered, and the words echoed in the room, soft next to the crackling of the fire.

“Excuse me?” she asked.

Alex propped himself up on an elbow and tangled his fingers in her hair, which had come loose from its braid.

“I want you to marry me. As soon as the ice breaks, I’ll take you away from here. You’ll never have to work in a place like this again. I’ll make you happy, I swear.”

He stared into her eyes with a desperation that confused her. Suddenly, understanding dawned. He was trying to save her. He had failed to save Joanna; so instead, he would save Meggie O’Day and absolve himself from his guilt over his sister.

“No, thank you,” Megan said primly and pulled away from him.

“What?” Alex asked, shock evident in his voice.

“I said, ‘No, thank you.’ I’m perfectly happy in Dawson City. I like to work. You don’t have to save me from myself, Alex.”

“But, but . . . I want to marry you. You were a virgin. You gave yourself to me.”

“I don’t
give
myself to anyone, Lieutenant. I slept with you and we both enjoyed ourselves. Let’s leave it at that, shall we? I care for you, I admit. More than I’ve cared for any man beyond my father. But I don’t need a man to survive. I never will.”

She turned away and slipped on her dressing gown, her fingers going to the pocket to feel the key still resting there. She glanced up at the por
trait of her mother. What lay hidden behind it?

Alex dressed silently, obviously confused that she hadn’t fallen all over him with gratitude for his proposal. “I’ll ask you again when you’ve had some time to think,” he said.

“The answer will be the same, Lieutenant.”

Alex stared at her for several moments, then shrugged. Megan could tell he thought she’d change her mind, and she gritted her teeth with irritation.

“Did you learn anything from Queen?” Alex asked.

She grasped at the change of subject. “I’m afraid not. She insists Ian is pursuing her and she wants nothing to do with him. She thinks he’ll turn up eventually to check on his businesses.”

“She’s probably right, though I’d prefer to talk to him before one of us ends up dead.”

A chill ran down Megan’s spine and she turned away, her gaze again drawn to her mother’s picture. Should she tell Alex about the secret door? Maybe an answer lay hidden there. No, she would keep the door to herself until she knew what was behind it. Brian must have had a good reason to build the door, and she would not betray his trust yet. If any answers came to light, she could then share the knowledge with Alex.

“I’m tired, Alex,” she said, her eyes still on the picture.

He came up behind her and his hands rested on her shoulders. “Your mother?”

“Yes.”

“She’s lovely. You have the look of her.”

“Thank you. She was very frail and gentle. Too much so for this world.”

“You take after your father in spirit then.” Alex turned her to face him. “You’re a survivor. I admire that. But you don’t have to prove it to me. It doesn’t take away any of your strength to spend your life with another person; you only add that person’s strength to your own.”

Megan gazed into Alex’s eyes and saw the warmth and strength of the man. He ran his knuckles gently down her cheek then kissed her brow before he took his leave.

She waited only a moment before locking the door and removing the portrait. The key in her pocket fit the lock, and the door opened with a slight creak. Inside lay a small book, which she removed carefully, then climbed down from the chair and went to sit on the bed.

The book was black and leather-bound with the look of a diary. She flipped open the cover and recognized her father’s handwriting.

Meggie—Let no one see this book but you. If you are reading this, I am dead. Suffice it to say, I did not die by accident but by design. Read what I have recorded herein and know that I have always loved you. Papa.

Megan raised her head for a moment, tears stinging even as uncertainty clouded her mind. He had not died by accident? How could that be when an avalanche was nothing if not an accident? Reaching over, she turned up the lamp and read on.

While I was at the claim, someone shot at me. Willie was with me and, after the intruder in my room the other night, feels something is amiss. We returned to The Celebration together I am lucky to have such a friend.

Megan frowned. The attempts on her father’s life followed a similar pattern to the attempts on the lives of both her and Alex. Either the killer was not very original or not very bright.

She read the book from cover to cover, much of it detailing Brian’s trip up the Chilkoot Pass and the beginnings of The Celebration. He later wrote of the claim on Bonanza Creek and his hope that the mine would bear fruit. Brian mentioned Willie often, Joanna Carson not at all. If her father had traveled with Joanna, created a child with her, wouldn’t he have mentioned the woman once in his diary? Despite her father’s admonition to keep the book to herself, Megan knew she would show it to Alex. It would bring him one step closer to finding the man who had hurt Joanna if he knew he no longer had to prove Brian Daily’s culpability.

I walk in fear of my life each day. If only I knew whom to trust. Willie would profit most by my death, especially if Megan leaves Dawson City without claiming the mine; but I have trusted my partner with my life before and I will not start doubting now. I feel the threat drawing nearer. If not for Damon watching my back, I would not leave my room.

The diary ended there, and Megan put the book aside as she stared into space. The final entry worried her. Why would someone want to kill her father? The Celebration had been left to Megan, as had his share in the mine. He had no enemies that he mentioned. Brian had always been everyone’s friend. There was also the matter of the note she had found at the cabin, which had asked Brian to meet Willie at the base of the pass. But her father never mentioned such a note in his diary. And Brian had died in an avalanche, a chance occurrence if ever there was one; how could his death have been anything but an accident? Instead of answering her questions as she’d hoped, the diary only served to add more questions and cloud the answers she already had.

A knock on her door had her glancing at the clock next to her bed. Afternoon. Megan sighed and rubbed her tired eyes. She had read the diary when she should have been sleeping, and now she would have to get dressed in a few hours for work.

After pushing the diary under a pillow, Megan crossed the room and opened the door, moving aside as Damon streaked past her legs. Alex Carson stepped into the room, leaning against the door to shut it.

“Did you miss me?” He pulled her close.

“No . . . yes . . . I—” Megan stuttered.

“I thought so,” he said and kissed her.

Megan pushed against his chest and tore her lips away before her traitorous body allowed a repeat performance of that morning’s activities.

“I thought I told you I wouldn’t marry you,” she gasped.

“You did. However, you said nothing about sleeping with me.”

Megan knew her mouth hung open in surprise. “You mean you still want to sleep with me even after I’ve said I won’t marry you?”

“Of course. We haven’t been married either of the times I made love to you.” He pulled her back into his arms. “If you’d like to reconsider my offer, I’m thrilled. If not, well, we can continue on the way we have been.”

“You still want to see me?”

“Of course. If I can’t have you as my wife, I’m perfectly happy to be content with you as my mistress.”

Mistress
. Megan frowned. The word conjured up images of women in houses paid for by men, their clothes bought by men, the very food they ate provided at the whim of men. No, that was not what she wanted.

“I can take care of myself, Alex. I have no need of your protection.”

“Fine. Then we’ll just enjoy each other for as long as we . . . enjoy each other.”

Megan stared at him for several seconds, pondering the offer. She had to admit she enjoyed him, she enjoyed what they did together. If that enjoyment were good enough for a man, why shouldn’t it be the same for a woman?

“All right,” she agreed. “As long as you understand that I will not be kept and I will not marry you.”

Alex merely smiled and kissed her until she forgot what she had been saying. He carried her to the bed, and as he lay her back on the pillows, her head struck the diary and she paused.

“I have something to show you,” she said.

“Good,” he murmured against her skin.

“No, really.” She reached under the pillow and pulled out the book. “My father’s diary.”

Alex froze, then lifted his head slowly until his gaze met hers. “You had his diary and you never told me?”

“I just found it last night, after you left.” She pointed to the painting of her mother she had replaced in its original position to hide the door in the wall. “There’s a safe hidden behind the portrait.”

Alex sat up and took the book from her, flipping it open to the first page. After scanning the message there, he looked up briefly then moved to the desk and began to read.