The Fall of Rome (27 page)

Given the wording of the telegram, they expected him tomorrow, the day after at the latest.

As far as protecting the ladies, Josh had a handle on Paris and Emily. Down the road, Parker kept watch over Kaila, Zach, and Zoe.
“Don’t worry,”
the man had told London.
“They’ll never know I’m around.”
At last, Parker had found practical use for his stealth skills.

Marshal Clancy and his deputies were also aware of the elevated danger to those associated with the Garretts, so London felt fairly at ease regarding his family’s safety when he returned to the Last Chance. What concerned him this moment, as it had through the day, was Victoria’s state of mind.

He found Teddy seated at a table playing solitaire, a rifle at the ready. After confirming he hadn’t encountered any trouble, London thanked the man and sent him home. He locked down the saloon, then hastened to his apartment.

He expected to find Victoria bedridden with grief, so he was delighted to see her in the sitting room, alert and making use of his stationery. She sat at his desk, so engrossed in her writing that she didn’t hear him come in. Mrs. Chen was equally absorbed, hunkered on the sofa, brow furrowed as she attempted to read one of the novels in his collection.

“Ladies.” They both started. Mrs. Chen popped up to her slippered feet. “I go now.” She left the book and brushed past London. “She fine.”

His gaze locked with Victoria’s. Heat pooled in his loins.
Damn
.

She set aside the fountain pen and hurried over. “Will you sit with me, please? I need to speak with you.”

He grasped her hand and led her to the sofa.

She looked up at him with those bewitching, pale green eyes. “I’m sorry I fainted in front of your family.”

“They’re sorry they triggered bad memories.”

“I’m not.” She scraped her teeth over her lush lower lip. “It’s not pretty, what happened on the train, and I wish I’d handled the situation differently. But I’m glad I remembered, because now I can somehow put the awful matter into perspective. I slept on everything you said, London.”

“And?”

She held up two tri-folded missives. “I wrote letters to my father and Mr. Blevins, the man I was supposed to marry,” she clarified. “I told them both that I had, in fact, survived the robbery and had, of my own choice, taken charge of my life. I mentioned,” she said, expression now fierce, “that should they try to find me and coerce me in any way, my husband would wallop them.” As if hearing the vehemence in her tone, she blew out a breath and lowered her voice. “Was I remiss?”

He laughed and thanked God for serendipity. “No, Victoria. You were not remiss.”

She passed him the letters. “Will you please mail these for me?”

“With pleasure.”

“Thank you. Something else.”

He set the letters on a side table, pleased with her surprising bold streak. “Let’s hear it.”

“Tori Adams offered me her life. I want it. Part of it, anyway,” she said when he raised a brow. “I want her name.”

“Tori Adams?”

“Tori Garrett.”

London cocked his head in thought. All this emotionally battered woman had needed was a nurturing atmosphere. He imagined her blossoming with each passing day, less inhibited, more vibrant, yet always polite. Not wholly Tori Adams or Victoria Barrow, but a unique blend. “Tori Garrett.” He smiled. “It suits you.”

“Honestly?”

“Honestly.” London brushed his thumb over her cheek.

She blushed and cleared her throat. “One more thing.”

He hoped it had something to do with the intimacies they’d discussed this morning. Christ, how he ached to make love to his wife. “Yes?”

“Although I can’t change what happened on the train, I can, hopefully, avenge Tori’s death.”

His smile slipped. “How so?”

“Paris mentioned that Emily’s husband is riding with a posse in an effort to catch Bulls-Eye Brady and his gang. If they do catch them--”

“Not if,” he said, wanting to assuage her fears, “when.”

“When they catch them, the outlaws will go to trial, yes?”

“That’s how it should work. Yes.”

She took a breath, straightened her spine. “I want to testify against them. I’m not positive I’ll be able to identify the ones who wore masks, but I can definitely identify the man who . . . who . . .” She blinked back tears. “He has to pay for his crimes, London. He needs to be locked away for a long time. Forever if possible.”

He admired her courage and determination, and he believed she’d follow through--it’s what he’d initially hoped for--but he worried about her sensitive side.
“Tori”

Her mouth curved at the sound of her preferred name. “Yes?”

“Justice is harsh and swift in these parts. If Brady’s found guilty, your testimony won’t send him to jail, but to the gallows.” He clasped her hand and smoothed his thumb over her knuckles. “Can you live with that?”

She fingered her locket then met his gaze. “I’ll have to. The alternative, him somehow going free or escaping ...” She shuddered. “Knowing he was out there terrorizing people when I could have stopped him. That I couldn’t live with.”

He shook his head, smiled. “Is it any wonder I fell in love with you?”

She blinked. “You love me?”

He realized then that he hadn’t actually put into words what he’d felt at first sight. He cupped her delicate face. “The moment you walked through my door, you changed my world. You stir me. You touch my heart as no woman has ever done. I can’t explain the sensation. It just is, and it spurs yearnings and desires completely foreign to me.”

“Oh, London.”

He thumbed away tears of joy and continued to speak his heart. “I want to wake up next to you every morning. I want to have children with you. Grow old with you. Yes, I love you, Tori Garrett. And I want nothing more than to show you, in a physical sense, husband to wife.”

She touched his face in kind, her eyes shimmering with curiosity and affection. “I’ve been afraid to speak it. It seemed too soon. It happened so fast, and it’s overwhelming and beautiful and frightening.” She caught her breath, smiled. “I love you, too, London Garrett. I ache to know you in the intimate way a wife knows her husband. I wish we didn’t have to wait until tonight,” she said on a sweet sigh.

Smiling, he stood and swept his blushing bride into his arms. “We don’t.”

Pima County

Sated from their passionate lovemaking and emotionally exhausted, Kat had fallen asleep in Rome’s arms. For the first time in years, she’d slept peacefully. No nightmares. No dreams. Just healing, all-consuming blackness.

When he woke her, she felt disoriented. At first all that registered was his intensely handsome face. She smiled a little, remembering how he’d made her forget.

“You make me feel like I’m the only man on earth when you look at me that way, sugar.”

“You’re certainly the only one who matters to me.” Her voice sounded hoarse, as if she hadn’t used it in a spell, and it was a sappy thing to say, but she couldn’t help herself. After so many years of holding in her true emotions, it felt good to speak her heart.

“You’re killing me, Kat.” He smoothed her hair from her face. “Under different circumstances, I’d keep you in this bed for a week straight.”

She heard a hint of urgency in his tone and noticed, suddenly, that he was fully dressed. Her heart fluttered with alarm. “What time is it?”

“Time to move out.”

She palmed her forehead and focused. The room was awash with shadows, and the air was cooler. “How long was I asleep?”

“A few hours.” He kissed her on the forehead. “I’ll meet you at the stable. I said our good-byes to our hosts. Make use of the back door unless you want to be waylaid by Aida, who was damn insistent about our staying for supper.” He kissed her again, this time on the mouth. “Make haste, sugar.”

Supper?

The door shut behind him, and she scrambled to dress. She peered out the window, cursed when she saw the stagecoach. Mrs. Slater had mentioned they were expecting a southbound stage around six this evening. Why had Rome let her sleep so late? How would they make up for lost time?

She shoved her feet in her boots, tugged on her brown slouch hat, and heeded his advice. Hearing the chatter of a half-dozen voices, she circumvented the kitchen and the aroma of fried chicken and blew out the back door. She still felt as if she only had half her wits about her when she hit the stable.

Rome was just adjusting the stirrups of a saddled giant. The frisky beast pawed at the dirt and snorted. “Only horse Vern had to spare just now. Spirited bastard.”

So this is how they’d make up time. No longer riding double. Heart thumping, she neared the grey gelding. “I can handle him.”

“I’m sure you can.” He took her elbow and steered her to his mustang. “But I’d feel better if you’d take Stargazer.” She started to argue but again sensed urgency. “You heard something about Brady, didn’t you?”

“From the coach’s shotgun messenger.”

“A Wells Fargo man?”

Rome turned her to face him. “There was an incident at a sheep ranch, and he heard about it when they made a mail drop in a town four hours north of here.”

“What incident?”

“A hired hand came in from the range and found his boss shot dead. Found the boss’s wife tied to their bed.” Kat’s breath caught and tears stung her eyes.

Rome pulled her into his arms. “It’s all right. She’s alive and unharmed. Just scared and upset. Apparently the gang took refuge in her house during the storm. They blindfolded her, so she didn’t see anyone. Heard talk though. Seems Brady’s lost two of his gang members--one in the storm, one by her husband’s hand.”

On shaky legs, Kat clutched the back of Rome’s duster and buried her face in his shoulder. “Given she was a witness, I’m surprised they let that woman live.”

“So am I,” he said. “Although Brady probably wasn’t counting on her being discovered so quickly. Thing is, word’s out he’s in the region. Pinkertons and Federal Marshals will be on the scene in the next couple of days. Wouldn’t be surprised if Wells Fargo sends a couple of men. The man’s days are numbered.”

Kat pushed off and stared up at Rome. “Unless he moves fast.”

“Real fast.” He kissed her--swiftly, sweetly--then helped her mount Stargazer.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he said as he swung into the saddle of the grey. “Just ride.”

In tandem, they spurred their horses and hit the road at a gallop. Assuming they had a chance to catch Brady before he caught up to Boston and Frankie, Kat leaned into the wind and concentrated on keeping up with Rome and his spirited steed. She envisioned a future with no worries. She thought about the lucky coin tucked in her skirt pocket and rode.

Phoenix

Victoria stared out the window adjacent to London’s bed. From their second-story position she could easily see the night sky, a sky filled with twinkling stars. She imagined Tori Adams winking down at her. She was not only free, she was blessed.

Wrapped in her husband’s arms and her treasured quilt, she kept reliving her wedding day over and over. Mostly, the parts after London had carried her to bed.

She’d heard lovemaking was painful the first time. It was. But only for a heartbeat. London had attended her body so lovingly and thoroughly, she’d been out of her mind with scandalous want by the time he’d entered her. He’d prepared her mentally and physically, so she knew what to expect. His kisses stole away her fears and her shocked gasp as he broke through her virginal barrier. Yes, there was pain, but then, because he’d combined tenderness with passion, any discomfort was soon replaced with indescribable pleasure. Pleasure she wanted to experience over and over again.

“You’re asking for trouble wiggling against me like that, Tori.”

She smiled, liking her new nickname, liking the sound of London’s sleepy voice so close to her ear. She turned in his arms. “I’m sorry I woke you,” she said, combing her fingers through his thick, disheveled hair. She studied his moonlit face, thinking him the most devilishly handsome man in the world. Her body pulsed with desire. “But since you’re awake, do you think we could do it again?”

His mouth curled into a lazy smile. “We’ve done it twice already and for extended periods of time, honey.”

True. In between they’d slept and later he’d served her dinner in bed. He’d told her how his family wanted to throw them a wedding reception and she’d assured him she didn’t mind. She thought it was sweet. She’d asked about his brothers, and he’d explained how they were all part of a special law-enforcement team. He’d mentioned playing a small part, and she’d said,
“How exciting,”
to which he’d replied,
“Not so much.”
Then he’d segued into talk of making babies, and they’d ended up making love a second time. He’d been a little less gentle and she’d burned even more.

Just thinking about it heated her blood. She pressed up against him and wiggled.

He groaned and smoothed his hand over her bare hip. “Don’t you feel tender down there?”

“A little,” she confessed.

He leaned in and kissed her mouth, her forehead. “Tomorrow morning’s soon enough.”

She stilled. “But--”

“All right, then. Have mercy on me. You wore me out.”

“I find that hard to believe.” His body was a work of art. Like one of the sculpted statues she’d seen in a museum. Granite sinew. For a big man, she’d been stunned by his agility and impressed with his restraint and stamina.

He smoothed his hand over the side of her face, tucking her head into the crook of his shoulder and neck. “It’s been a long day. An eventful week. It’s long past midnight, honey. You need to sleep.”

“I can’t.”

“Nightmares?”

“No.” She snuggled closer. She thought about how he’d obliterated a lifetime of unhappiness in a few short days. All she’d ever wanted was to be appreciated and loved. London made her feel all that and more. “My mind and heart, they’re full and racing. I never dreamed I could be so happy. Part of me thinks it’s too good to be true. What if something or someone ruins it? What if I go to sleep and wake up and we never happened? What if--”