Читать книгу Cimarron Rose - Nicole Foster - Страница 11

Case pounded the last wooden plug into the wall with enough force to rattle the globes of the lamps. He’d spent the past half hour patching the bullet holes in the foyer walls, figuring it was better to vent his frustration with the hammer rather than his fists.

Just before dawn, he’d been jerked out of bed by a loud and rowdy brawl between two miners. They’d broken two chairs and a mirror before he’d managed to separate them, rouse the sheriff to haul them off to the jail, and finally break up the guests that had gathered to watch the ruckus.

It was then he discovered his missing songbird.

She hadn’t slept in her room last night, and no one seemed to know where she’d gone. Case had an idea and he didn’t like it.

Jack Dakota had a room at one of the boardinghouses. Case remembered Jack’s invitation to Katlyn after her performance and wondered if she’d accepted it after he’d left her alone.

It irritated him to imagine her with Jack and at the same time, he was angry with himself for thinking it mattered. He had hired her to sing. How she spent her time otherwise, or whom she spent it with, had nothing to do with him.

The front door swung open a few inches and Case turned, the hammer still raised in his hand.

Katlyn slipped inside, her shawl pulled up around her and her hair loose and tumbled. She glanced over her shoulder before carefully closing the door, not seeing him until she started to head for the staircase.

“Oh!” Her hand flew to her mouth. She stopped, staring at him with wide eyes.

She looked the perfect picture of guilt. Case deliberately turned back to the wall and slammed the plug one more time for good measure before saying smoothly, “Have a pleasant night, Miss McLain?”

“And what is that supposed to mean, Mr. Durham?”

The bristle in her voice turned Case around again. She had thrown her shawl back and stood with her arms folded. Case already recognized that defiant cant of her chin that betrayed her lightning temper.

“It means, I hope you had a pleasant night,” Case said, starting down the ladder. “You didn’t sleep in your room.”

“I didn’t realize I was required to. It’s not your business, but I spent the night at Mrs. Donaldson’s boardinghouse with my—companion. I told you, she’s ill, and I stayed so late last night, it seemed foolish to come back here. Especially considering I never know who I’m going to run into in your foyer,” Katlyn couldn’t resist adding.

Case scowled. He strode over to the front desk, jamming his hammer with unnecessary force into the toolbox he’d laid there. “None of the staff is required to stay here, particularly you and Dakota.”

“Jack? What has Jack got to do—” Katlyn stared at him a moment, then burst out laughing. “Oh, you thought—you thought Jack and I—”

Her annoyance evaporated as if it had never been. She’d been afraid Case had been baiting her in an attempt to ferret out her secrets, when all along he was irritated because he thought she’d been dallying with Jack.

“You seem to find that amusing,” Case said coolly. He leaned back against the desk, lighting up a cheroot and taking a long pull on it before returning to a study of her.

“It’s more than that, it’s crazy.” Katlyn tried to not stare at him in return. Although he exuded that familiar polished command, something had roughed his armor this morning. Slightly rumpled, his shirtsleeves rolled up and his hair ruffled, as when he’d dealt with the drunkard, he seemed more dangerous to her than the astute businessman ever did.

Dangerous in a way she didn’t want to consider too closely.

“I like Jack, but that’s as far as it goes,” she said, more to distract herself than to answer him. “He’s too much like my father and every other gambler I’ve ever met. Risk-taking infects them and they never recover. How could you ever trust a man like that?”

To Katlyn’s surprise, Case’s expression suddenly sobered. “Trust is more important than anything, I agree.” He looked at her a moment then added with a twist of a smile, “Although, somehow, I can’t picture you being satisfied with someone nice and tame.”

“Oh, well…” Katlyn shrugged. She started moving around the foyer, touching a chair here, a curtain there. “I thought I would be, once.”

She glanced up at him quickly, smiling at his raised brow. “I was engaged to a rancher before I came here.”

“I suppose compared to the riverboats, ranch life hardly offered the same excitement,” Case said.

The edge to his voice didn’t escape Katlyn but she only shook her head, her expression thoughtful. “No, it wasn’t that. It was…the challenge.”

She stopped near him at the desk and leaned her back against it, like him. Case watched her impatiently push a few unruly curls behind her ear, her tongue darting over her lips as she struggled to put her feelings to words. This morning, the gestures seemed to him both young and endearing.

“Marriage should be about building a life together, sharing the adventure, good and bad. But he needed me to always be waiting, to help him build the life he wanted, not to share in deciding what that life might be. I just wanted more.”

She felt the weight of his perceptive gaze, piercing the confidence and bravado she’d managed easily with her former fiancé. Case had a way of making her feel exposed, vulnerable to her emotions, her insecurities. Vulnerable to him.

“Didn’t you have all of those things with your wife?” Katlyn said, turning to him impulsively. “It must be so difficult now, raising your daughter alone. My sister was widowed once and I know how hard it was for her, being alone with two sons to raise.”

Case looked away from her, taking a hard draw on his cheroot. “I’m not a widower. I just don’t have a wife anymore.”

“You—” Katlyn stopped, not understanding his words or his abrupt coldness.

“She didn’t die. But she might as well have,” Case said, the words falling hard between them. He ground out the cheroot with a vicious twist of his hand. “I married her thinking she was what I needed. She wasn’t. It was all a lie, from beginning to end. She deceived me into believing she was exactly what she appeared to be.”

“I—I’m sorry. No one should be hurt like that.”

“I survived. And it won’t happen again. With anyone. I’ll never take a chance on allowing my daughter to suffer hurt again.”

Katlyn abruptly turned away. She knew if she didn’t, he would see everything she felt mirrored on her face.

She hated this deception, hated being torn between living a lie for her mother’s sake and wanting to be honest about herself. She searched for something, anything to distract him.

“Have you decided to redecorate?” she asked a bit too suddenly, to divert both herself and Case from the painful topic of truth.

Case eyed her questioningly. He didn’t know what possessed him to confide in her like that except her willingness to entrust him with a little of her past had prompted him to equal honesty.

Now it appeared she regretted their shared confessions and attempted to ignore them. He didn’t know whether to feel relieved or affronted.

“The stage is coming in this afternoon,” he said at last, keeping his voice carefully neutral. “I’m expecting new guests who might not appreciate decor that includes bullet holes.”

“They might not appreciate those curtains, either,” Katlyn said.

Striding over to the window, she tugged at the heavy plum-colored velvet, wrinkling her nose when dust puffed up from the folds of the worn fabric. “These must be relics from some great-aunt’s attic. They make the whole room look depressing.”

“Miss McLain—”

She spun around to face him again. “Will you quit calling me that? The way you say it makes me feel like a great-aunt. My name is Katlyn.”

“I think I’ve just been insulted,” Case said. He looked straight into her eyes, watching a warm pink glow blush her face. He suspected the color came from temper rather than embarrassment at her impulsive words. “Are you insinuating I’m stuffy?”

“As these curtains,” Katlyn returned smartly, spurred by the sardonic amusement in his eyes and voice. “Although the curtains I can remedy.”

Without asking his permission, she flung off her shawl, dragged a chair over to the windows, stepped up on it and yanked off one side of the curtains.

Her energetic tug released a cloud of dust that set her coughing. Trying to cover her mouth, she lost her grip on the heavy velvet and the material fell, tangling at her feet.

“Is this your idea of an improvement?” Case asked, close behind her.

Katlyn jumped, hearing him so near. She lost her balance on the chair and teetered precariously. Before she could grasp a handhold, Case’s hands came around her tiny waist, steadying her.

“Careful,” he murmured close to her ear, “this redecorating can be dangerous business.”

For a moment Katlyn froze. In all her life she couldn’t remember being so aware of a man. His hands felt warm and strong against her, his breath made her skin tingle as it brushed her ear. And the scent of him, a mingling of tobacco and something clean and sharp and male, seemed to her as heady as any spirits she’d tasted.

If she made the slightest move backward, she would be in his arms. The impulse to do just that tempted her and at the same time frightened her with its intensity.

Case realized he’d made a mistake the moment he touched her. His body responded to her even as his common sense warned him to walk away. Except his mind didn’t seem to be listening to sense any more than the rest of him.

Katlyn shifted, turning within his hold to look at him. Her eyes, like the violet blue of a sunset sky, searched his.

He waited, expecting someone like Penelope Rose to respond with enticement, boldness even.

Instead she did nothing except look uncertainly at him, as if she had no idea of how to respond. The color had fled her face, leaving her pale.

Katlyn floundered. No man had ever made her feel so foolish and shy. Why was her confidence abandoning her now?

Case reached up one hand and touched her tousled hair. The coppery curls slid like silken fire through his fingers. He felt her tremble. Something inside him jerked, as if prodded sharply.

“Maybe I underestimated your talent,” he said softly. “This is an improvement.”

“Yes…Well, I mean it’s much warmer. The velvet kept out the sunlight and…and…” Katlyn stumbled over her words and finally stopped. She tried to draw a calming breath and instead it came out a shaky sigh.

What was she doing, letting Case Durham turn her inside out like this? She was supposed to be Penelope Rose, used to men and their attentions. Her mother never would have stood this close to a man like Case and alternated between gaping at him and babbling about curtains. Her mother would have smiled, let her fingers graze his shoulder, and made some coy remark.

But Katlyn couldn’t take her charade that far. Not with Case Durham. Not even for her mother. Looking away from him, she turned in the chair again, deliberately staring up at the remaining curtains. “I’ll get the rest of these down, then the windows and woodwork need to be washed and—”

“Come down from there before you break a leg.” Without waiting for her to obey and ignoring the squeal of protest she made, Case lifted her off the chair to the floor. “I’ve invested too much money in you to have you laid up for weeks. I didn’t hire you to climb chairs and scrub windows.”

Case deliberately made his voice and manner brusque and was rewarded when the flush came back to her face and the fire to her eyes.

He hadn’t been prepared for her pale and trembling at his touch. Looking at her like that, he had lowered his guard and for a moment she’d slipped under it. She’d shaken his defenses and he determined she would never do it again.

Katlyn recognized the wall Case put up and almost welcomed it. At least it was familiar. “You hired me to rescue your hotel,” she said. “Consider this a bonus to my singing.”

She made to get up on the chair again but Case stepped in front of it, stopping her. “If you’re so determined to tear apart my foyer, I’ll help you. Maybe I can keep you from pulling down the entire window.”

“Be my guest, but you aren’t going to talk me out of washing this glass.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re hardheaded?” Case asked as he pulled the ladder over to the window and started to climb the rungs.

“Practically everyone I meet,” Katlyn said, smiling sweetly up at him. “So you’d better get used to it.”

Three hours later Katlyn stood at Case’s side and surveyed the work they’d finished with satisfaction.

He’d grumbled a good deal about her giving orders to him and his staff, and about her making good on her promise to scrub both the windows and woodwork. But even he couldn’t argue with the results.

The wood and glass, from windows to walls, gleamed after Katlyn’s attack with soap, vinegar and beeswax. Case had moved all the furniture so the rugs could be taken outside and beaten, and then after everything had been thoroughly cleaned, Katlyn guided where to place things, rearranging everything to better suit the space. She’d also insisted the curtains from her suite be hung in the foyer. The light fabric in shades of rose and ivory perfectly complimented the room and let enough sunlight in to gild everything in mellow tones of gold.

Katlyn shot Case a triumphant smile. “I knew this would be better.”

“I’m beginning to wonder who’s in charge around here,” Case muttered. But he couldn’t help smiling at her sudden scowl. With her hair escaping its rough braid, her face smudged with dirt, and her dress dusty, she looked more real to him than she ever had carefully primped and painted. Seeing her now, he marveled at how she could transform herself to be at home on a stage.

“All right, it’s better,” he said. “You win. This time.”

Cocking a brow at him, Katlyn put a hand to her hip and leaned back a little to look fully at him. “Is that a challenge, Mr. Durham?”

“It’s a warning, Miss McLain, not to make a habit of rearranging my life without my invitation.”

“I wasn’t aware that improving your foyer had such an impact on your life. Do you find redecorating and cleaning that disturbing?”

“Maybe it’s you I find disturbing. You’re never what I expect you to be.”

Case said the words thoughtfully as he watched her, making Katlyn feel as if he were stripping away her secrets one by one. “You don’t know me well enough to expect anything from me,” she said lightly. “And I like the idea that I can surprise you.”

“I don’t like surprises. I’ve had enough to last a lifetime.” His expression hardened. “I want to know what to expect up front.”

As if deliberately flaunting his warning, she caught his attention again by smiling instead of retreating. “Where’s the fun in that?” she said, the gleam in her eyes pure mischief.

Case fought a surge of irritation. She’d managed once more to slip under his skin with that way she had of doing what he least anticipated.

“I’ve annoyed you again,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you?”

“Not really.”

Shaking his head, Case gave up. “Well, at least that’s honest. And now—” He glanced quickly at his watch. “It’s time for Emily’s lunch and I always try to have it with her. If you’d like to join us—”

Katlyn didn’t have time to decide whether to accept or not. The clamor of wheels and horses’ hooves drew their attention to the window as the stage rumbled past, leaving a wake of red-brown dust.

“It looks like my guests have arrived early,” Case observed.

“I’ll finish cleaning this up. I suppose it’s not good business to have your guests tripping over buckets.” Glad for the distraction, Katlyn hurried off to retrieve the bucket and cloths that Becky hadn’t yet taken away. She left Case to remove the ladder as she gave the furniture a final swipe with her rag.

She’d just finished stowing the last of it when Case strode over to pull the front doors open and welcome in two elderly couples, one of them accompanied by a young woman.

Katlyn scarcely heard Case’s smooth greeting and the easy way he had of organizing his staff to collect luggage and escort the guests to their various rooms. Instead she tried to stay as far in the background as possible, waiting for a chance to ease away before anyone noticed her.

She could have cheerfully strangled Case when he turned from welcoming the guests and beckoned, fixing all eyes on her. “Miss Rose, come and meet our guests.”

Just stopping herself from glaring at him, Katlyn pasted on a bright smile. As Case introduced her as Penelope Rose, she tried not to cringe at the name or to think about how she looked after a morning of bathing in dust.

“Oh, Miss Rose, it’s such a pleasure,” one of the gentlemen said as he took her hand. He peered at her through small, round spectacles, his withered hand pumping hers in pleasure. “I heard you sing once, oh, many years ago, when I was visiting a niece in St. Louis. I told my wife then, I had never heard such a beautiful voice. You’re the reason we decided to stop here on our way down to Santa Fe. When I heard you were here at the St. Martin, I insisted we come.”

“Thank you. Perhaps you’ll come and hear me sing again tonight then,” Katlyn said, fervently wishing he would do anything but.

Unfortunately, the man bobbed his head in enthusiasm. “I shall, we all shall. You know, my dear…” He took off his spectacles and polished them on a large handkerchief. Then, putting them back on, he squinted at her again. “You look as young and lovely as you did then. Why it seems you haven’t changed a bit in all these years.”