Katie Rose (12 page)

“Hey! I know you—you’re that woman that owns the whorehouse! Boys, this lady is from Shangri-La!”

The cowboys let out a whoop, and Emily felt her face flame. Glancing up, she saw the cowboy from the stagecoach when she’d first arrived in town. Unbelievably, he’d recognized her in spite of her changed appearance. The cowboy stood up and pulled her into his arms. The tray dropped to the floor with a clatter, and the barkeep threw up his hands in disgust.

“Well, if you ain’t a pretty thing,” the cowboy said, touching her feathers appreciatively. “You sure look much better like this than you did on that stage. If I’da seen you in this dress, I’d never have let you git away.”

“Let go of me!” Emily tried to pull away, which only made the cowboys laugh harder.

“Hey, I like that! Is that what you plan to do at the house? Play the lady, then turn into a whore? That’s a right good idea, honey, if I don’t say so myself! Why, I want to be the first customer!”

He tried to plant a kiss on Emily’s cheek, but she turned her face away and the cowboy got a mouthful of plumes instead. The other cowboys roared, while Emily renewed her struggle to break free. Frantically she looked around for Nancy, but the woman was nowhere to be seen. The breath was knocked out of her as the cowboy bent to put his shoulder in her belly and lift her clear off the ground.

“Let’s not wait for the grand reopening, sweetie. I’ll be your first customer now.”

More laughter and shouts of encouragement broke out as the cowboy started toward the door with Emily thrown over his shoulder like a sack of flour. But he hardly got three steps when a voice stopped him cold.

“All right, Jake, put that girl down.”

Emily nearly swooned in relief. But the man who held her turned quickly, whirling her around in the process. She was starting to feel sick. Her stomach lurched again as Emily felt the cowboy reach for his weapon.

“Stay out of this, Preacher. I don’t want to kill no man of the cloth.”

“Then drop that damned gun,” Thomas swore.

Emily heard the collective gasp, and even she couldn’t help glancing up at the Reverend Hall. Dressed simply in minister’s garb, he looked anything but helpless or holy. The sharp blue quality of his eyes seemed deadly cold as he squinted at the cowboy, almost as if he were a gunman himself.

“Look, Preacher, this doesn’t concern you—”

“Doesn’t it?” Thomas’s words cut the man off.
“I’m not telling you again, cowboy. Drop that gun and let that girl go.”

Emily had thought that of the two men, Jake was the more dangerous one, but now, Thomas’s presence made the rough saloon patrons look like children. She glanced back once more. Thomas stood facing the cowboy, his knees slightly bent, his hand held just outside his coat as if … as if he were preparing to draw. The other cowboys looked at each other, apparently as surprised as she. None of them seemed happy with this development. Shooting up a bar was one thing; shooting a preacher, quite another. Especially one who looked all too familiar with gunfights. Slowly Jake let his gun drop.

“That’s right. Now you step aside and let that girl go. Miss Emily, come here.”

Jake let her down slowly, but before he could say another word, Thomas yanked her backward, out of his grip. When she was standing safely behind him, the preacher addressed the cowboys once more.

“I don’t want to hear anything else about this incident boys, do you understand? You’ve made a mistake where Miss Potter is concerned. I’ll let it pass under the circumstances, but I don’t want any more trouble over this. Remember, the good Lord knows all.”

The veiled threat in Thomas’s voice was unmistakable. The men stood back as the preacher hauled Emily out of the saloon. As soon as the door swung closed behind them, the bartender turned to Jake, a cool whistle escaping from this lips.

“Did you see what I seen, boys? Or was that a Bible that preacher had under his coat?”

Outside, Emily tried to thank Thomas for his help, but he refused to speak to her. Instead he hauled her along by one arm as if she were a disgraced schoolgirl. Emily struggled to keep up as her tight velvet slippers tripped on the rocks and holes in the dirt road. Yet Thomas didn’t stop or even acknowledge her protests. He escorted her home, thrust her inside, and slammed the door behind him.

Sensing trouble, Watson sprang from the window to race upstairs. Emily raised her face to Thomas, rubbing the bruise on her shoulder where he’d grabbed her. Angry as she was at his callous treatment, she had to admit the man had helped her. She tried to smile, although it died on her lips when she saw his clenched teeth and blazing blue eyes. Emily swallowed hard. Once again, he hardly looked like a man of the cloth. Instead, he looked even more dangerous than he had at the bar. And suddenly … sexy.

“Reverend Hall,” Emily said weakly, before she could lose her nerve. “Thank you for your help. I didn’t realize things could get so out of hand. For a minute, I thought you were going to pull a gun yourself!”

Thomas ignored her words, taking hold of her as if he meant to shake her.

“Dammit, Emily! What in the hell were you doing in that place, dressed like this?”

Emily gasped. Not only was the preacher still
swearing but he was furious. And determined to take it out on her. For once, her famous courage flagged. She was in the grip of a madman. Thomas may have rescued her from the saloon, but who would rescue her from him?

“You little fool!” he continued, his voice harsh. “What were you thinking? Or do you think? Was this another one of your adventures, like when you barged in on my bath, or is there some other explanation?”

Thomas had never been so angry with anyone in his life. He stared down at the girl he held so tightly, and saw that her shoulders were beginning to redden beneath his fingers. Swearing under his breath, he eased his grip. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he didn’t want her to escape his wrath either.

She’d nearly blown his disguise. Thomas had been certain he would have to pull his gun, and then it would have been all over. As a child he’d spent years practicing with his rifle, until he’d become famous for the accuracy of his shot. It wasn’t a talent he was proud of, but it had saved his hide more than once. If a gunfight had broken out, Reverend Hall would have had to disappear, leaving more than one grave to his credit.

And all because of her. Thomas’s fingers still held her shoulders, those impossibly pretty, creamy white shoulders that led down to a frothy neckline baring a full, enticing bosom. Thomas hadn’t been able to believe his eyes when he first saw her, for it was the most incredible transformation he’d ever seen. A fairy godmother’s wand couldn’t have created anything
more dramatic—Emily, in her spinster dress and schoolmarm demeanor, changed into this glittering, golden butterfly.

His eyes swept over her again, as if trying to convince himself once more that it was truly her. He had to admit that her hair, pulled up with a only few curls dangling around her face, was beautiful, a peculiar shade of red brown like polished mahogany. Jet black earrings danced from her tiny ears, while her plumes, a little bedraggled, still dipped and swayed enticingly. And the dress—the dress looked as if it had been made for her. It fitted her tiny waist impossibly well, displaying a generous portion of her round breasts above a spray of black lace. Her figure, as he’d guessed, was spectacular, from that neckline all the way down to where the dress hitched up to show scandalously fishnet-stockinged legs. It didn’t take much for his mind to imagine the little black garters that held those stockings up, and his anger doubled with the pounding swell of his arousal.

Emily’s silver eyes grew even wider and she backed up until the door hit her bustle. With feminine instinct, she seemed to know that something had changed, and she was in a different kind of trouble now. At least he had the satisfaction of seeing that he finally had her attention, although she was far less terrified than he would have liked.

“I … I was investigating! This is a case, and I need clues to solve it,” Emily was saying, as if that explained everything. When his fingers tightened on her again, she squirmed in his grasp, rubbing the abused flesh. “You’re hurting me!”

“Investigating! Emily, those were real men with real guns. How many times do I have to tell you that this isn’t some story you’re reading! If one of the other girls hadn’t come to the boardinghouse for help—”

“But don’t you see? I realized that the saloon girls might know something, and they did! I got my first real clue!”

“Damn you!” Good God, what was wrong with this woman? Thomas was about to launch into another tirade when he stopped himself. “What clue?”

Emily’s lips, red where she had nervously bitten them, relaxed into a triumphant smile. “I found out about Lizzie Wakefield.”

Lizzie Wakefield? Hadn’t the sheriff told him … “What did you find out?”

Emily grinned, as delighted as if she’d found a pot of gold, rather than a piece of information. “Lizzie was a bordello girl who lived at Shangri-La when my father and Rosie were there. Nancy told me she might remember something.”

“She didn’t happen to tell you where she was?” Thomas asked casually.

Emily nodded. “Nancy said she might still be in Boulder. Isn’t that wonderful?” She reached up and gently touched his collar, sending a shudder of awareness through him. “I must say, you were most impressive when you showed up and faced down those men. You even had me frightened. And I really don’t think those cowboys meant any harm. Like Nancy says, it’s just their way of letting off steam. It
seems to me that everything worked out for the best, after all.”

Thomas shook his head. Although he was secretly impressed at what she’d managed to find out, her rationalization frightened him. She truly seemed to have no idea what had been in store for her. And he could tell that further lectures would get him nowhere. She was so bright, yet so incredibly naive at the same time. His gaze fell once more on her rouged face, her heavily lined eyes, and her moist, red mouth. There was more than one way to make a point, Thomas thought, and it was time to take action.

“Since you have no objection to cowboys letting off steam, perhaps you won’t object to this, either.”

And before Emily could protest, he yanked her into his arms and covered her mouth with his own.

“Thomas!” Emily cried out in shock, yet the sound was instantly diminished as his mouth took fierce, erotic possession of her own. It felt better than anything she had ever imagined, or could even begin to imagine. His mouth teased her, enticed her with a sweet temptation and an aching tenderness, while his hand curved up to cradle her hair and slide into that silken splendor. One by one her plumes dropped, and Emily heard her hairpins clatter to the floor. His other hand tightened about her waist, pulling her impossibly closer until she could feel his heartbeat keeping wild rhythm with her own.

She didn’t entirely understand what was happening, but, lost in a world of pure sensation, Emily surrendered completely. She slid her hands from his
chest, where she’d attempted to push him away, to wind them around his neck. Something hard pressed against her, and a soft, kittenish whimper came from the back of her throat. Dimly, she noted that the fiery stirrings racing through her blood ended—shockingly—where her lace garters met. Desire, new and freshly awakened, made her skin incredibly sensitive. The lace trim at her neckline seemed to torture her aching breasts, and the nipples, encased in pure satin, throbbed and puckered beneath the smooth fabric.

Then Emily heard Thomas groan and whisper her name. “Good God, Emily …” Was he feeling something similar? His hand slid from her hair to her throat, leaving a trace of fire where he touched, then lower to rest just above her breast. The warmth penetrated her skin and she whimpered again, this time from wanting. She craved his touch, certain it was the only thing that would ease the ache he’d created in her burning flesh, and take her wherever this incredible experience was leading. A fleeting memory of her fantasy crossed her mind, and she realized that she wanted it to happen! Although she’d been taught that this was wrong, that men would take terrible liberties if encouraged, and could ruin a girl, no one had told her how wonderful it would feel. Nor had anyone prepared her for the sweet, aching tenderness of a man’s kiss, or the hot black ardor of her own passion. Why? Here was yet another mystery.

When his hand covered her breast, she thought she was still imagining it, for the sweet, gentle touch
and scorching heat were almost more than she could bear. Moaning softly, she pressed herself more fully into his hand, her eyes opening wide at the odd tingling that pulsed through her.

“My goodness!” She gasped as his mouth finally eased from hers and he pressed fiery hot kisses along the expanse of skin bared before him. When his fingers touched the roughly textured nub of her nipple, she nearly swooned in his arms. “Are you certain that this is … right?”

“Yes, it’s very right, Emily, my sweet Emily.” Amazingly, the rough texture of his hands felt wonderful against her soft skin, and Emily closed her eyes once more, drinking in the sensations. When he pushed down the lace and bared her breast completely, she was astonished, and even more so when his hot, wet tongue laved the nipple with sweet caresses. She clung to him, panting helplessly as wave after wave of emotion assailed her. Good Lord, what was wrong with her? Could it really just be the dress, or the house? Perhaps it was her artistic aunt’s blood in her. Something had to make her act in such a brazen manner, especially with Thomas Hall!