Heather Graham's Christmas Treasures Page 11

  "The lady's fate is on the table," a voice interrupted sharply. It belonged to the man with the golden eyes. "Don't touch her. Show your hand."

  Jack swore in bastardized French. But his two henchmen were still moaning about their bullet-torn hands, and he didn't seem to relish the idea of testing the fast-drawing stranger again. He sat down and flipped over his cards.

  Kaitlin couldn't see them. She was afraid to breathe.

  Quickly, one by one, the rest of the men flipped over their cards.

  The handsome blond gave a glad cry. Jack swore again, partly in English, partly in French. The fat man looked deflated.

  The stranger with the golden eyes shrugged. "Seems to me like you're done, Leroux."

  Kaitlin heard no more, for the blond man was up and out of his seat, hurrying toward her. Before she knew it she was picked up and spun about. Then, laughing with a wonderful boyish humor, he set her down again.

  "You're saved, princess!"

  She smiled in return, certain that he had won the game.

  "Let me introduce myself. I'm Daniel—"

  "Daniel, watch out!"

  Daniel turned, sweeping her with him, just in time. Jack Leroux had risen, a small but razor-sharp knife glittering in his hand. But before he could use it, the sound of a shot exploded in the room. Leroux screamed, the knife clattering to the floor.

  The man with the golden eyes had made another perfect shot.

  "Maybe we'd best take our winnings and get out of here, Shane," Daniel said.

  "I think I agree."

  The golden-eyed man, the one called Shane, was on his feet, having collected the gold from the table. He was wary, his eyes on every man there as he backed toward the hallway.

  "Bastard!" Jack hissed at him.

  "We're leaving, Leroux. Don't let anyone lift a hand to stop us. Next time, I'll shoot to kill. And I'll be aiming right at your heart."

  Kaitlin looped her hand around Daniel's arm, following as he led the way out. The man named Shane stayed behind, covering their exit.

  A minute later they were out in the street. A breeze was wafting in off the Mississippi. It lifted Kaitlin's hair, and seemed to caress her cheek. Excitement was bringing a flush to her cheeks; relief was making her giddy.

  Don't be a fool! she tried to warn herself. She had trusted in Leroux's letters enough to endure a rough journey through several states only to find out he'd wanted to turn her into a waterfront harlot.

  And there had to be something to the mail-order debt. The men had all been willing to play for it.

  Or for her.

  But this Daniel...

  He was so good-looking, and so very kind. She couldn't help but laugh with him, couldn't help but feel wonder in his presence.

  "We took him!" Daniel exclaimed. "We took that Frenchie bastard, Shane!"

  "Yes," the one named Shane said, his hat brim pulled even lower now. Still, Kaitlin felt his eyes. She couldn't really see them on her, she just felt them. Watching her. Wondering about her.

  Condemning her?

  They had found her with Leroux.

  "Instead of standing around here cackling, I think that we'd best get a move on," Shane said. "We're too close to the river here, and not a good section of it."

  Daniel mentioned the name of a hotel. "It's very proper, we can make arrangements for our princess here—Kaitlin. Kaitlin Grant. That's what he said your name is, right?"

  She opened her mouth to reply.

  Shane answered for her. "If he was giving us your real name."

  "What other name would I use?" Kaitlin demanded. If she had hackles, they would be rising. Just like those on any hunting dog when it knew that a dangerous beast was nearby.

  Maybe not a beast quite so wicked as Leroux, but dangerous nonetheless.

  "I don't know," he said bluntly. He shoved back his hat, and those golden eyes studied her from head to foot. "What exactly were you doing with him? How long have you been with him? Were you making big money for him?"

  Kaitlin gasped.

  Not even Yankees spoke like that!

  Quick as a trigger, she reached out to strike him.

  He was quicker, catching her arm.

  "Shane!" Daniel protested, distressed. "Shane, look at her dress! It's obvious that she's a lady. Let's hear her out!"

  He still held her arm. Her teeth were gritted, her eyes were blazing. "Get your hands off me!"

  The sound of her voice was cutting. She had lost her mother years ago, but she had never, never forgotten her. Never forgotten the things that a lady should do, the way that a lady should act. She knew very well how to don a cloak of dignity that few people could breach.

  Nevertheless, she was somewhat surprised when this man released her.

  However, she still didn't like the mocking smile on his face.

  "Perhaps we bested Leroux. Perhaps she's besting us."

  Kaitlin wasn't even going to speak with him any longer. She turned to Daniel. "Every member of my family is dead," she said softly. "My brother died in the war, my father just a year ago. There was nothing left. I had to get out. I had to. If you could see the way that they're running the place—"

  "The Yankees?"

  She hesitated. "I met a few Yankees who weren't so bad," she went on quietly. "They tried to leave me something of a roof, and something to eat. They were tired soldiers when they came through, just like my brother might have been a tired soldier up in the North. It wasn't soldiers who came in afterwards. It was trash like Leroux. So I had to get out."

  "So you sold yourself to a man like Leroux," Shane interjected dryly.

  "No! Yes! I didn't think that—oh, never mind! You won't understand no matter what I say!"

  Shane grunted noncommittally. Daniel took her arm. "Come on, Shane. She's shivering something awful. Let's go to the hotel and have some dinner."

  Shane shrugged. "But I've got to head back in the morning. No matter what."

  "I don't—" Kaitlin began.

  Daniel tugged lightly on her arm. "Please let's go to the hotel," he said.

  They walked quickly through the streets. There were sailors out, and probably thieves, pickpockets, and whores. Daniel had thrust her between himself and Shane as they moved along the street. She swallowed hard, aware of the hard body of the man on her left. She didn't want to allow him any grace at all, he was so cutting and so rude. But to his credit, she realized, he had no intention of letting anything happen to her.

  And she couldn't forget just how quickly he could make the pistols in his gun belt blaze.

  As they walked, the atmosphere of the city gradually changed. Not so many sailors seemed to roam the streets. Handsome carriages began to roll by.

  The women had a different look, and a different air.

  Then Daniel paused before a set of heavy wooden doors with the words "The Saint Francis" emblazoned above them. He opened the door and ushered her in.

  The hotel was beautiful. Kaitlin didn't think that she'd ever seen anything like it, even before the war. Dark, rich velvets covered an array of chairs and love seats. Brass chandeliers with glittering crystals hung from the ceilings. The lobby was papered in an elegant beige with barely discernible embossed white flowers. The reception stand was made out of the deepest, darkest wood.

  "I'll make arrangements," Shane said, leaving Kaitlin with Daniel in the center of the lobby where a circular seat was set beneath one of the grand chandeliers.

  "Why is he so mean?" Kaitlin asked Daniel.

  "Shane? Well, he's not exactly mean. I guess he's just not too trusting of folks anymore, that's all." He wasn't going to offer more. He seemed more perplexed with Kaitlin and the circumstances in which she found herself.

  "You've no home to go to?" he said.

  She shook her head. "And I'm sure that you've won my indebtedness. I can make it up to you, I promise. I teach. I can teach almost anything. Reading, geography, history, piano."

  "But you intended to be a mail-order bride?" />
  She nodded, feeling color seep into her cheeks again. Did this man intend to marry her? Excitement rippled through her veins. It would be just right. He was so attractive, and so kind. She could easily manage marriage to him. She didn't love him, of course; she barely knew him. But she hadn't been expecting love any more than she had been expecting white-trash vermin like Jack Leroux.

  People were watching them, she realized suddenly. She had drawn the attention of any number of masculine eyes. No one walked into the room without glancing her way. It made her uncomfortable.

  "Well?" Daniel persisted. "Are you still willing to be a bride?"

  Was he asking her to marry him? "Yes," she said softly.

  "And you teach? Can you cook?" he asked.

  She glanced into his eyes. He had such a beautiful smile. She nodded, smiling, too. "Yes. Rather well, actually."

  "You'd be so good for Francesca."

  She frowned, but then she realized that he wasn't really talking to her.

  The man named Shane had come up behind her. She didn't know how long he had been there, or how long he had been listening. She didn't really care.

  Shane grunted.

  Daniel went on talking as if she wasn't there anymore. "She has to be the most beautiful creature I've seen in my entire life. She cooks and cleans and teaches—"

  "So she says. Maybe her true talents lie in those eyes, or maybe even when she's on her back—"

  "And just how bad would that be?" Daniel demanded.

  "That is it!" Kaitlin exclaimed.

  Daniel caught her arm. "Please! I apologize for him! He hasn't met a lady in so long he just doesn't know how to behave!"

  Shane ignored him. "You think she should be a bride?"

  "What could be lost?"

  Then Shane was staring at her with those gold eyes of his. They seemed to blaze right through her. They seemed to undress her, right there in the lobby.

  Then he smiled again, mockingly, but the mockery was addressed somehow toward himself. "Hell, yes, you're right, just what could be lost! Well, Miss Kaitlin Grant, there could be no love match here. But let's hear it from your lips. Are you ready to face a land that's nearly raw wilderness? The Indians still think that it's theirs. You'd get a house and a home. And a fair amount of riches, I think. But there are terms to a marriage like this. The wilderness can also offer a hard life. And a house must be taken care of. It's a lonely place at times. And a husband has to be taken care of, too, Miss Grant, if you understand my meaning, which I'm quite certain that you do."

  She felt a spark of fire racing to her cheeks again. If she could just hit him really hard, just once, she would feel so much better.

  But she couldn't, not standing in the elegant lobby, not with the very kind and gentle Daniel awaiting her answer.

  Why was he letting this Shane ask all of these questions? Well, when she married Daniel, she wouldn't let Shane run his life a minute longer.

  "Leroux was right about one thing, sir," she said tightly. "You certainly are a—a bastard."

  "Those are the terms, lady."

  "Your terms."

  "My terms," he echoed flatly. "Oh, yes. You do appear to be a very beautiful woman, Miss Grant. There's nothing beneath the fabric that would mar that beauty, some fault we should know about?"

  "Shane!" Daniel protested.

  The nerve of the man! He should know, didn't he have her practically undressed with his eyes, right there in the lobby?

  "No faults, sir," she snapped.

  "Well, do you agree to the terms?"

  She gazed at Daniel. He wanted to make things so much easier for her, she could see it. She swallowed hard. The intimate part of marriage was going to be hard no matter what. But she had accepted that when she had agreed to Leroux's proposal.

  "I understand the bargain, sir," she said coldly to Shane.

  "Then maybe we can solve this now. Tonight," Daniel said gleefully.

  "Why not?" Shane said. "Excuse me. I'll see if they can help us at the desk."

  Once again, Shane walked away. Kaitlin felt numb. So much had occurred in one day.

  She turned and looked around the beautiful hotel. Someone had laced the windows with holly branches and the tiny red beads of holly were bright and beautiful. A string of brightly colored Christmas angels hung over the paneling behind the desk, where Shane now stood.

  It was nearly Christmas. How wonderful. For Christmas, she'd be receiving a husband—Daniel.

  "I imagine we could go up to the suite," Daniel said, smiling. "Ah, here comes Shane now!"

  He was striding toward them again, so tall in that long railway frock coat of his. He should have been incongruous in the elegant lobby. But he was not. He cut an imposing figure, striking and commanding.

  And mean, Kaitlin thought. She cast her eyes trustfully upon Daniel.

  "I've spoken with the manager, and he was very understanding of the—er—delicacy of our situation. He'll be up immediately with a friend, a Father Green of Saint Paul's. Shall we go? Suite 204, Daniel, right up the stairs."

  Kaitlin wished that those golden eyes of his wouldn't blaze so intently into her own, nor flicker with quite so much amused challenge.

  Daniel took her hand, and led her up the stairs. She was startled to feel Shane's touch on her shoulders, pulling at the simple cotton fabric of her dress.

  "You'll need a whole new wardrobe," he commented. "Expensive."

  She swung around on him, arching a brow. "Maybe my husband will find me worth it."

  He laughed softly. "Maybe."

  "Ah, here's our suite!" Daniel said.

  Shane fit a key into the door and pushed it open. They entered an elegant little parlor with several dark wood side tables and richly upholstered chairs. On a sideboard was a beautiful cut-glass decanter full of brandy and snifters at its side.

  There were two doors in the parlor. One leading to a room on the left, and one leading to a room on the right.

  "Would you like to freshen up?" Daniel asked Kaitlin. "I'm sure there's water in the bedroom—"

  "We can order up a bath for her, once this thing is over," Shane said curtly. "Brandy?" he asked Daniel.

  Then he looked to Kaitlin. "Miss Grant? Perhaps you feel the need for one. After all, you are about to sell your soul to the devil."

  "No, thank you," Kaitlin said sweetly. "I don't feel that I'm selling my soul to the devil at all."

  "No?" he replied, arching a dark honey brow. His eyes were glittering.

  There was a knock at the door. Two men came in: Mr. Clemmons, the manager, and a kind-looking old white-haired soul in robes who was introduced as Father Green, an Episcopal minister.

  "Well now, I understand that the circumstances here have been a bit peculiar." Gentle gray eyes looked down upon Kaitlin. "Ah, lass, a beauty is what you are, and lured into a den of thieves, as it were! Well, let's thank the Lord that this kind gentleman intends to make an honest woman of you, give you his name, and all the earthly possessions he holds. Step forward now, and hear the words of our Lord!"

  Kaitlin moved forward. She closed her eyes and listened as Father Green read from his prayer book.

  To have and to hold, to honor and to cherish.

  She was about to be married. Legally wed. And she would leave behind all that was familiar to her, leave behind her beloved but tattered South, and travel on to a new life. She had been saved from the grasp of Jack Leroux by a wonderful man who was now making her his wife.

  "Do you, Shane Patrick MacAuliffe, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife—"

  She heard no more. Her eyes flew open and she looked to her side.

  She wasn't marrying Daniel. She was marrying Shane!

  "You!" she gasped, interrupting the minister.

  "Well, what did you think?" Shane demanded in exasperation. "I won your debt papers."

  No! she thought with dismay. No! "But I—"

  He leaned close. "Daniel is married already, Miss Grant. His wife's back
home in the Black Hills," he informed her in a whisper for her ears alone.

  "Is something wrong?" Father Green asked.

  "Everything is wrong!" Kaitlin said.

  Shane drew her aside. "What difference does it make?" he said in a low voice, his face unreadable. "It's a bargain, remember? I suggested that you might be selling your soul to the devil, but you seemed willing all the way. And the devil himself might be an improvement over Leroux, and you agreed to give your life to him."

  "I did not! I explained—"

  "Yeah. Sure."

  "Oh, how dare you—"

  Father Green cleared his throat loudly. "If there is a difficulty—"

  "No!" Daniel called out from the sidelines. He stepped forward. "Shane, we can't just leave her here!"

  "I can make my own way—" Kaitlin began.

  "Both of you, think about it!" Daniel pleaded. "You can both give each other what you need! Think of Francesca, Shane. And Kaitlin, you'll be safe!"

  "Do I go on?" Father Green asked.

  "Yes!" Daniel answered for them.

  Shane pulled her back to their place in front of the minister. Her fingers were cold. So cold. She heard the ceremony go on. And on. Then Father Green asked her to vow that she would love, honor, and obey Shane Patrick MacAuliffe.

  And she heard her own broken whisper. "I do."

  He slipped a ring on her finger. It was too big, she had to clench her fingers together to keep it on. She glanced down at it. It was a signet ring with the initials SPA.

  "I now pronounce you man and wife. You may now kiss the bride, Mr. MacAuliffe."

  It was done.

  Kaitlin didn't give Shane a chance to kiss her. She bolted for the sideboard and the brandy bottle.

  He followed her, his mocking gold eyes upon her. "So you've sold your soul to the devil. Regrets already?"

  "I can keep a bargain," she told him coldly.

  "Can you?"

  "Mr. and Mrs. MacAuliffe, there are papers to sign," Father Green reminded them.

  Kaitlin signed the papers. Then she wasn't sure what happened. She was so numb. They all had brandy. Then Father Green and Mr. Clemmons were gone. A roast beef dinner had been brought up for the three of them: her, Daniel—and her husband, Shane MacAuliffe, who had ordered up a hot steaming bath for her.