Wild Is the Night (18 page)

Satisfied, Amanda picked up Aesop and her carpetbag, the new dress carefully folded and placed inside, then she strode determinedly to the front desk and got the number for Luke’s room. Marching up the steps, she turned the corner, then rapped sharply on door sixteen.

“I’m coming, Jesus, stop that yammering.” Luke stumbled to the door, flung it open, and stared in disbelief at the fully dressed and proper Miss Edison.

“Are you ready? We are scheduled to leave early this morning, if you remember correctly,” Amanda said, her voice as crisp as autumn leaves. “We still have to purchase supplies, sign on with the wagon train, pack our belongings, and make the arrangements—”

“All right, all right, I get it,” Luke said, rubbing his forehead. “Give me a minute. You can wait in here.”

Amanda entered, taking deep satisfaction in the way Luke looked. His hair was disheveled, and his clothes were a mess, as if he’d slept in them. Black circles enveloped his eyes, and a dark stubble clung to his chin.

“I am surprised to see that you aren’t ready,” Amanda continued in the same icy voice. “For someone who is normally so punctual—”

“Amanda.” Luke’s words held a threatening note. “Don’t push me. I have one hell of a hangover, and I’m in no mood to fence with you.”

“My, that is a pity,” Amanda continued, unable to resist. “Especially since we are going to be going all the way to Texas together. That is, if you haven’t changed your mind again.” Her eyes cut right through him.

Luke stared her back down, his beautiful blue eyes penetrating, then he slowly began to unbutton his shirt. Inch by inch he exposed his wrists, then his shoulders, then his torso from the waist up. Well-muscled and bronzed, attesting to an out-of-doors life, his body was magnificent. He leaned over the washstand, liberally dousing himself with water, then scrubbing with the cake of strong soap that the housekeeper provided. Droplets of moisture ran down his chin, glistening from his tanned flesh, while his muscles flexed and twisted with his movements.

“I think I shall be going,” Amanda gulped. Faced with the sight of his obvious masculinity, unclothed and wildly seductive, she felt herself quickly losing ground.

Luke glared at her. “Stay where you are. I have no desire to go scouting around this damned town, looking for you.”

Amanda nodded, turning her attention to the window, her eyes fighting to look back at him. When he finished washing, he slipped on a clean shirt, then dipped his comb into the water and slicked back his hair. When he finally approached, he looked even more handsome than he had the night before. Amanda could have hit him.

“Look at me.” His voice was gentle and Amanda glanced up, her own eyes shielded and suspicious. “Amanda, I want to apologise for what happened last night. It occurred to me that I might have over-reacted—”

“Might have?”

“Did.” Luke amended. “I was going to come down to your room last night and talk to you about it, but it seems I drank too much damned whiskey. Guess you were right about that, too.”

Amanda stared at him in amazement. He looked so charming, so ingratiating, that she had to fight to keep her own anger alive.

“You see, I never dreamed you’d look as beautiful as you did in that gown, with your hair done up. Seems I got used to thinking of you as my own Amanda. I suppose it happened while we were alone on the trail together. You were lovely last night, and you didn’t deserve the kind of treatment I gave you.”

“Why did you?” Amanda looked at him speculatively. “Was it because I invited those men to our table? Ashton thought so.”

“Did he?” Luke smiled thinly. “In a way, I suppose.”

“I don’t see why,” Amanda continued in the same, analytical tone. “I just thought they seemed lonely and interested in our conversation. Ashton said—”

“Amanda.” Luke cut her off. “If you say his name one more time, I swear I won’t be responsible for what happens.” Luke took a deep breath, obviously fighting his temper and the headache. “I’m trying to say I’m sorry.”

Amanda fought the rising swell of tenderness she felt inside of her. He looked so honest, so vulnerable, and so damned appealing, that she had to restrain the impulse to reach out and caress his hard muscled arms that she’d seen naked just a few moments ago. In spite of everything, he seemed to care for her. Her spirits soared.

“I accept your apology,” she said softly. “And I feel I owe you one. I didn’t realize that inviting Ash—I mean, those men, to our table would upset you….” Amanda’s voice trailed off as she noticed something black and lacy laying on the bed, just behind Luke. It was, unmistakably, a woman’s garter.

“I know,” Luke said quickly. He gave her a warm wonderful smile, then took up her hands. “Now can we start over? We have a long trip ahead of us.”

Amanda tore her eyes away from the lace undergarment and gazed at him. For a second, he saw open pain, then the tough mask fell and she was the old Amanda again. Luke had seen a warmer expression on the face of a bluecoat.

“There is no need to start anything,” Amanda said coldly. “We are merely traveling acquaintances. And as for last night, it is best forgotten. I mean, I suppose it’s natural for you to be jealous.”

“Jealous!” Luke stared at her incredulously, his smile fading. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s nothing to be defensive about,” Amanda continued casually. “It happens with all primates. Particularly males. If you’ve ever watched a male dog marking his territory, you know what I mean. But it usually is a mating signal, and I just wish to clarify our relationship.”

“And what is that?” Luke asked, furious.

“We have none,” Amanda said abruptly. “Now you’ve kept me waiting long enough. Unless we wish to miss the wagon train all together, I suggest we proceed. Is there something you wish to add?”

Luke’s fist clenched, and he snatched up his coat, unaware that he’d picked up the garter at the same time. Not trusting himself to speak, he followed her out of the room, Amanda with the cage in one hand, the bag in the other. He kicked shut the door.

Amanda Edison had ice water in her veins. And he’d had the dousing to prove it.

“There ain’t no room on the wagon train.” The man Luke had been introduced to as Pop Finnegan spat a wad of tobacco juice into the brass receptacle at the end of the bar, then continued speaking as if there had been no interruption. “Been filled for days. Don’t need no more tag-alongs.”

Luke glanced outside. There were only six wagons waiting to leave. Luke could see a few men lashing supplies onto the back of the covered wagons, and a small number of women and children preparing the provisions for the long journey ahead.

“There seems to be plenty of room,” Luke remarked. “Take a look.”

Pop shoved aside his beer and got to his feet. “I told you there ain’t room, and if I said there ain’t, there ain’t. We’ve got six good, hard-working Christian families, the Reverend Jacob Weaver and his followers. Don’t need no one else.”

“I’m sure there must be a misunderstanding,” Luke continued reasonably. “We do intend to pay.”

“I don’t need no damned money. This happens to be a religious group. What we don’t need is this kind of trouble.” The stout little man’s eyes flickered from Luke to Amanda.

“That is rather short-sighted of you.” Amanda stopped from scribbling her notes and glanced up at the two men. “We are, after all, entering Indian territory.”

“I know that!” Pop bellowed. Luke glared at Amanda. The eccentric woman was sitting properly at the next table, barely pausing from her endless writing, her hair already coming loose and tumbling down. Aesop rustled in his cage. Amanda petted him with her pencil, then resumed scratching across the paper in a barely legible scrawl.

“Then you should be aware that you’ll need all the men you can find,” she continued. “The Longhorns won’t be coming through again until the good weather, which indicates that the Indians are more likely to attack. I believe you know that the Commanches have developed quite a hunger for meat, a desire which currently isn’t being appeased by the stray cattle. Therefore, it stands to reason that you will need all the help you can get.”

“Yeah, but—” Pop started.

“And Luke is a gun.” Amanda indicated the gunslinger with the point of her pencil. “I’ve hired him myself. If I understand correctly, the danger from Haskwell is based on supposition, while the danger from the Indians is much more than hypothesis. In which case—”

“What the hell is she talking about?” Pop glanced back at Luke, who was glaring at the woman before them.

“Amanda—” Luke began.

“Luke can help,” Amanda finished, ignoring his interruption. “‘Half our misery from our foibles springs.’ More.”

Pop glanced from the man to the odd-looking woman. Amanda smiled at him, gave him a searching look through her glasses, then turned back to her work. Pop scratched his head.

“Who is she?” Pop said reluctantly. He stared appraisingly at Amanda, really looking at her for the first time. The woman had come in with the gunman, carrying a bird cage and a frayed bag that seemed about to pop its seams. She had quietly taken a seat, produced endless sheets of paper from the bag, and proceeded to write, ignoring everything around her. Pop was left with the impression that she was a little “touched.” But as he examined her closely, he saw that her slender figure was apparent in spite of the ink-stained dress, and the Victorian lace did nothing to detract from her soft curves. With those glasses gone and her hair pulled back, she might even be pretty.

“Amanda?” Luke forced a smile. He stared at the writer, a cool smile coming to his face as she rustled inside the bag. “Amanda happens to be my wife.”

“That so?” Pop asked in disbelief.

“I am not!” Amanda’s head popped out of the bag and she glared at Luke, furious. “I wouldn’t be married to you if you were the last procreative opportunity…” She began, but Luke shot her a look so stern that she stuttered into silence.

“She’s a long way from home, and a little confused,” Luke said. Amanda didn’t miss the threatening note in his voice. She gazed haughtily out the door, crossing her arms and tapping her pencil in annoyance. As soon as her attention was elsewhere, Luke gestured to his head with a circling motion.

“Ah.” Pop nodded. “Had an aunt like that myself. Used to tell everyone she was from France when her blood was as green as an Irish shamrock. Never understood the woman. Died just a few years ago. Played ‘Take me Home Again’ at the wake. I’ll wager she turned over in her grave.”

Amanda choked and Luke silenced her with a forceful glare. “We can be ready within the hour. Is that good enough?”

“Fine, fine.” Pop agreed. “Now you take care of the missus, and I’ll see that we all get to Texas. Just like Aunt Mathilda.”

Amanda was furious. Not trusting herself to remain, she waited outside while Luke completed the business arrangements with the man called Pop. She was so angry that her knuckles whitened as her hands tightened on the bird cage and her bag. When Luke finally strode outside, she had to restrain herself from physical action.

“How dare you!” she spat, her turquoise eyes dark and flaming with emotion. “How could you tell that man those lies? Pretend we were married! And act as if I didn’t have all my senses—”

“Amanda.” Luke grinned, though he wisely stepped back a few paces. “If you’re honest, you’ll understand why I did what I did. And you have to admit, you deserved it.”

“What?” She no longer cared that they were in the middle of a public street, or that her voice rose to a high pitch. “You have some nerve!”

“We couldn’t go on this trip together without being married. Didn’t you hear him say there was a reverend on board?” Luke continued quietly. “I’ve explained this before.”

“That’s still no reason—”

“It’s more than enough reason,” Luke said sternly. “Pull yourself together, Amanda. The last thing we need is to get thrown off this train because we’re unwed. And with Haskwell after you, I didn’t think you’d want to be packed off somewhere, with some other family, maybe one without a gun among them.”

This part made sense, though she still glared at him, leveling the carpetbag as if debating whether or not to hit him with it.

“And you had to contradict me in front of the man. If I hadn’t acted as if you were crazy, he might not have believed us.” Luke grinned, pushing his Stetson back from his face, revealing a warm, white smile. “Now calm down. You might even come to enjoy it. In any case, you’d best find a way to live with it. Like it or not, Amanda, you’re about to become Mrs. Luke Parker. At least for the duration of our trip.”

Amanda stared at him indignantly, aware that he was enjoying himself. But she wasn’t too worried about the marriage part.

How bad could it be?

“What do you mean, they just left?”

Butch Winters leaned against the register desk at the boardinghouse, staring at the innocuous scrawl across the pages in disbelief.

“I’m sorry.” The short, thin man at the desk shrugged, then gestured to the book with the tip of his pencil. “It seems that they both checked out this morning. I show a Mr. Luke Parker had registered for the both of them, but I remember the woman as well. Strange, with a birdcage and a carpetbag.”

“That’s her.” Damien shoved himself from the wall, then jostled Butch. “Just our luck, ain’t it? This girl’s as slippery as a fresh-greased pig.”