Wild Is the Night (15 page)

Amanda’s head lifted slowly, then she stared at him, her eyes unnaturally wide. Luke felt as if he was being dismembered. When she finally spoke, it was as if everything was weighted on his next response.

“Then you’ve decided not to leave.” It was a statement rather than a question.

Swallowing hard, Luke nodded. “I’m sorry for the way I acted last night. You were right. I’ll try not to violate the terms again. However, I didn’t think that meant I couldn’t give you something if I wanted to.”

“No,” Amanda said quickly, overwhelmingly relieved by his words and the truth she saw in his face. “But I think we should work it out when we get to Texas. And I did need another dress.” She played with the material again, as if suddenly realizing it was hers.

“Fine. And I hope that I can have dinner with you tonight. I mean, this will be our last civilized meal for some time, and I hate to eat alone. Do you mind?”

“No, that’s all right.” It was more than all right. For someone who’d spent a lifetime eating alone, his offer meant more than he’d ever know.

“Good. Then why don’t you send for a bath and put that on? I’ve made arrangements with a wagon train and ordered supplies. When you’re ready, you can meet with some of the families we’ll be traveling with, and then we’ll get a bite to eat.”

She nodded, barely aware of his presence. Luke hid a grin as she swept the dress out of the paper wrappings, then held it before the mirror. Stunned, she couldn’t hide her excitement as she saw the woman she could be, with the indigo-blue bringing out all the strange colors in her eyes, and the polished depths of her chestnut hair.

Luke closed the door, then stood in the hallway, more than satisfied with the results of his gift. Amanda needed a little romance in her life.

And he was just the man to provide it.

Amanda pulled on the gown, heedless of the damp moisture that still clung to her body from her bath. Freshly scrubbed, she felt indecently excited as she smoothed the gown over her hips, then tried to close the back. Her corset and chemise had been ruined from riding and the night she’d struggled with Luke, and she was very grateful he’d included new undergarments. Rows of buttons paraded down, from her neck to below her bustle, all of them tiny and hard to fasten. When she finally managed to secure a few of the buttons, she peered into the mirror and saw that they were fastened wrong, and that the material had buckled open.

Darn! Amanda undid the buttons, then, holding the dress together, wondered what to do next. She had no maid, knew no one in this boardinghouse other than Luke, and she really didn’t want to ask him. For tonight, just one night, she wanted to be the lady she’d always read about, written about—genteel, sophisticated, and sure of herself. And an unbuttoned gown was a bad way to start.

A shrill giggle interrupted her thoughts, then she heard a woman’s laughter clearly through the wall. The laughter died to a soft murmur, then Amanda heard the odd sounds of bed ropes squeaking. The noise died as quickly as it started, followed by silence. Shrugging, Amanda walked out into the hallway, hoping to find a chambermaid, or anyone who could help with the dress.

A woman stepped from the room next door. Amanda stared at her curiously as the gaslights enveloped her in a yellow glow, making her reddish hair take on a shimmery effect and igniting her dressy satin gown into a brilliant saffron. The woman paused, seeming as surprised to see Amanda as Amanda was to see her. She ventured a shy smile, then relaxed as Amanda quickly returned it.

“Is something wrong?” The girl spoke in a soft, musical brogue. Her perfume floated around her like a sweet cloud. “It isn’t a fire?” She stared hopefully at Amanda, who shook her head.

“No, nothing like that. I…I just needed help with this dress.” Amanda indicated her open gown, then blushed as the young girl’s smile deepened.

“Well, hell honey, I can do that. Aileen O’Connell was the finest ladies’ maid ever, before Sherman took Atlanta. That’s when I got into this business.” Following Amanda into her room, she began to secure the dress.

“What business?” Amanda stared at the young woman reflected in the glass. Originally, she thought her to be around twenty five years old, but now she appeared much younger—hardly eighteen. The brighter lighting in the room also revealed a sprinkling of freckles across her nose, and the hint of a dimple around her mouth. Rouge made her rather plain face seem prettier, and her low cut gown emphasized a generous figure for a young girl.

“The business.” Aileen giggled. “You know. I don’t mind. The money’s damned good. And some of the men are nice. Why Jake Fontaine in there reckons to be governor of Texas. Says he’ll take me there, too. Just think—one man, one bed, every other night off. It’ll be heaven.” Aileen sighed as she finished the gown and gave the bow a final pat. “There! What a nice waist you have.”

“Then you’re a prostitute!” Amanda faced the woman, her mouth dropping in surprise.

“A saloon girl, I prefer to call it,” Aileen said slowly. “I know the way you gentlewomen think, so if you don’t mind, I’ll be going now—”

“Oh, but you can’t.” Amanda reached for her bag and quickly got out her notes. “You have to tell me all about it. How did you start? How much do you make? Do the men really pay you just to have sex with them? Are they nice to you, did any of them hurt you…”

“If you ain’t the oddest creature I’d ever met.” Aileen grinned, noticing the strange way Amanda’s eyes looked when she put on her glasses, and the way her hair seemed to have a life all its own, tumbling wildly over her face and shoulders. “Why in the good Lord’s name would you want to know all that?”

“I’m a writer,” Amanda said, as if that explained everything. “And I’d really like to know. I haven’t hurt your feelings or anything, have I?” Anxious now, she placed her papers aside and searched the girl’s face for signs of withdrawal. Finding none, she continued happily. “Seems I always do that, and I don’t mean to. I just really want to know. ‘Knowledge is power.’ Francis Bacon.”

“I don’t take it back, you are an odd bird.” Aileen flounced down on the bed, then eyed Amanda critically. “I’ll tell it to you, if you really mean it. But why are you getting all gussied up? Ain’t nothing for a gentlewoman to do in this town but to embroider and take tea with the ladies.”

“There’s a man. I mean, Luke.” Amanda blushed to the ears. “We’re going to dinner, and just for once I wanted to look as nice as the ladies he’s used to. He’s from the South, too.”

“Oh.” Aileen nodded wisely. “Southern belles, their voices like melting sugar. About as interesting as a stale tea-cake, but I can understand what you’re saying. Mind if I offer a suggestion?”

“Not at all.”

“Your hair’s all wrong—it shouldn’t be falling in your eyes like that. And those glasses have to go. Tell you what. I’ll fix your hair for a price of a whiskey, and answer whatever you want to know. Deal?”

“Deal,” Amanda agreed, scooping up her notes in absolute bliss. By the time they were finished, she’d decided it was well worth the two bits. Her notebook was ten pages full, and as she gazed into the mirror, she stared in astonishment at the woman who looked back.

“Aileen, how can I ever thank you—” Amanda shook the young girl’s hand, more amazed when Aileen laughed loudly.

“Honey, I’ve been needing this whiskey more than I can say. And to tell you the truth,” she plucked shyly at her dress, then glanced up from beneath rusty lashes, “I miss talking to a real lady. You ain’t like the other women, pulling their skirts aside when they see me. No ma’am, you’re a real lady, no matter how many books you’ve read. I’ve been around enough to know.” She gave Amanda’s hair a critical touch, then nodded in approval. “When you go out with your beau tonight, he won’t be able to take his eyes off you. And you remember what I said. No spoiled southern brat can hold a candle to this.”

Amanda felt emotion filling her. No one had ever so openly befriended her before. She had always been the teacher’s pet. Everyone had wanted to copy her work, to sit beside her and benefit from her knowledge, but no one wanted to be friends with her. Instead, they’d made fun of her, put ink in her hair and pine cones on her chair. She returned the young woman’s smile.

“Thank you, Aileen. You know, I used to be afraid of the world. This is the first time I’ve taken a chance, and it’s turning out to be wonderful. I keep pinching myself, wondering how I can be so lucky.” Amanda gave Aesop a reassuring tap on his cage, then started out the door.

Aileen watched her go, then picked up her lace shawl and followed. It was strange, but she felt protective of the woman she’d just met, and instinctively knew how vulnerable Amanda really was. The world was hardly wonderful.

And no one knew that better than Aileen.

Luke was waiting for Amanda when she descended the stairs. Clad in charcoal-grey trousers, a crisp white shirt and dinner jacket, a stark contrast to his blue-black hair, he looked devastingly handsome. He lounged against the mantle, smiling at something a cowboy said, holding a glassful of smoke-colored liquor. His eyes lifted as Amanda descended the stairs and he froze.

She was absolutely beautiful.

The indigo dress he’d bought her had looked nice in the store, but looked incredible on her. The material fit her slender figure perfectly, accentuating her softly rounded breasts and her womanly hips. The french lace at her throat brought his attention to her face, made his eyes linger there. With her hair pulled back in a charming nest of curls and her dowdy glasses gone, the sharp angles of her cheekbones traced down to a finely shaped nose and a seductive mouth that looked faintly moist. As she approached, he could see that the dark color emphasized her eyes. They seemed like enormous pools of blue and green.

Amanda stood before him, puzzled by his reaction and the way he stared at her. Self-consciously, she smoothed the dress and examined it for Aesop’s feathers. Finding none, she anxiously patted her hair, thinking that it was in disarray, but Aileen had secured each curl with a pin. More confused than ever, she faced up to him and frowned.

“Why are you looking at me like that? Don’t you like the dress? I can go back to the room and change, if you’re not sure. Or maybe it’s the hair—”

“Amanda.” Luke chuckled, drawing her two hands into his own. “You look lovely. Gorgeous. I had no idea that a simple gown or a hairstyle could make such a change. Shall we?” He offered her his arm, and after staring at it for a puzzled moment, she accepted his gesture and allowed him to escort her outside.

The restaurant was across the street, a few doors down. Luke smiled as she glanced around her, drinking in the warm seduction of the night. When she looked upward at a sky made of crushed velvet, he indicated a star pattern.

“Sagittarius. See those three stars right in a row?” He pointed out the constellation, his hand resting casually around her shoulders. “That’s the archer’s bow. It indicates the coming winter. The Indians recognize it as the time to start preparing for the cold months ahead.”

Amanda looked at him, amazed. Although she was familiar with the science of astronomy, she never thought of it in practical terms. Luke was obviously knowledgeable on the subject. He continued to surprise her, and she felt inexplicably safe and secure with his arm around her and the open admiration she felt in his eyes.

As they proceeded to the restaurant, Amanda became aware of the eyes that followed her. Two cowboys, whittling on the boardwalk steps, stopped carving at the sight of her and actually stood to better watch her pass by. A primly dressed farmwife gave her an icy glance, then held more tightly to her gaping husband. Businessmen headed for the bar gave her warm smiles, while their feminine companions looked her up and down appraisingly, as if sizing her up as a threat.

Amanda was enthralled.

She had written about such women, watched and envied them, never dreaming that she would one day be among their ranks. For however long it lasted, this night—this magical, star-spun night—was hers. And she intended to enjoy it to the fullest.

The Full Moon restaurant was about as elegant as a cow town could boast. Amanda followed Luke’s lead and entered, dazzled by the candlelight and the soft glow of the gaslamps. A handsome man dressed in a dark suit indicated a table, and Luke ushered her forward, walking behind her.

Every man’s eye followed her. Luke saw the cowboys, men long on the trail and appreciative of a glance of a beautiful woman, stop their meal and glance longingly at the stunning brunette making her way to her table. The jaded businessmen paused from their drinks to watch her, their eyes following even after she passed. It was only the expression on Luke’s face that made them turn back to their meal, and then only reluctantly.

Luke held her chair, fighting his desire to take her out of here, to a place where he could have her all to himself. One of the men, a young cowhand, obviously taken with Amanda’s radiant beauty, tried to get her attention. Luke stood between them as he offered her a chair, annoyed to find himself in the role of protecting her from other men’s advances. He felt duped by his own hand. The duckling had turned into a swan, and he’d been stupid enough to provide the feathers.

“Thank you.” Amanda smiled, then accepted the seat.

Her voice was sweet and musical and Luke felt his warring emotions intensify. Taking the seat across from her, he smiled, trying to hide his gritted teeth. The wine steward approached, thankfully distracting him.