HisBootsUnderHerBed (2 page)

Prepared to deliver another forceful kick, Fraser halted when he saw the new addition to the fight was a woman.

Rory picked up the fallen knife and freed his bound hands. Shaking his wrists, Fraser went over and recovered his pistol. He slipped it into the holster he wore on his hip, and then picked up his hat.

“I owe you a debt of gratitude, Miss—”

“Time for introductions later. Let’s get out of here before these two wake up.” She grabbed Fraser’s hand and they raced away.

“Where are we going?” he asked when they passed The Grotto.

“Where it’s safer.”

They reached the rooming house and stole quietly into her room. She locked the door and lit the lamp.

“Excuse me, I’ll be right back,” Rory said. She went into the adjoining room and closed the door.

Walking over to the figure in the bed, she placed a hand on his brow. “How are you feeling, Pop?”

“Fair to middling. And after a wee nip of me medicine, I’m sure I’ll be feeling a lot better. Would you bring me the bottle, darlin’?” His wide Irish grin always melted her heart.

“Whiskey is
not
medicine, Paddy O’Grady,” she declared as she poured a dosage of liquid onto a spoon.

“Aye, darlin’, but it kills the bitterness of this vile-tasting medicine the doctor forces me to drink.”

“It’s for your own good, Pop. And it’s working, isn’t it? You hardly coughed last night at all. Open your mouth.”

His countenance scrunched up in displeasure as he swallowed the potion and shook his head. “’Tis brewed by the devil himself. Better to let a swarm of blood-sucking leeches drain the blood from me!”

“Medicine’s advanced beyond the Dark Ages, Pop, so stop acting like such a baby. You can get along without whiskey for one night.”

“Are you telling me you didn’t bring me whiskey?”

“I bought it like you asked, but I accidentally broke the bottle. I don’t have any more money to replace it.”

“And that thieving bartender wouldn’t be trusting us for the cost of another bottle!”

“I didn’t ask him. We had words again over my refusing…to work one of the rooms.”

Paddy clenched his fist and shook it in the air. “That heathen son of the devil! When I get out of this bed, I’ll be telling him so.”

“Now don’t get yourself all worked up, Pop, or you’ll start coughing again.”

A twinkle returned to his eyes. “Maybe there’s a few drops left in me bottle to soothe the tongue of an ailing man, darlin’?”

Rory went over to the table and turned the whiskey bottle upside down. “Sorry, Pop, not a drop.” She went back to the bed, tucked in the blanket, and bent down and kissed his forehead. “Get some sleep now. I’ll talk to Mo tomorrow. I’m sure he’ll give me a bottle on credit. Good night, Pop.”

“Good night, darlin’.” He sighed. “But how’s an ailing man to sleep without his medicine?”

G
arth clutched his aching head, sat down on the bed, and took off his boots. He unbuckled his gun belt and slung it over the bedpost, thinking about the night ahead with the spunky little blonde who’d saved his life. In the dim glimpses he had of his rescuer, he’d recognized the blonde he’d seen at the bar in the Grotto. Who could forget those blue eyes?

He remembered going upstairs with a redhead named Shelia, who most certainly had lived up to his expectations. But things got hazy and bizarre after that.

Granted he had drunk a little too much, but that whiskey had been so watered down that there was no sting to it—or at least he thought so at the time.

He remembered leaving the Grotto, but everything got foggy from that point on. His aching head and body made it clear he hadn’t escaped unscathed but at least he had escaped. The one thing he remembered clearly was that those two SOBs who jumped him had intended to shanghai him, and most likely would have killed him if this woman hadn’t come to his aid. It took a lot of courage for her to do that. Those two men were rattlesnake mean. Lord knows what they might have done to her if they’d had the chance. He owed the gal a damn sight more than just a thank you.

The thought of making love to her now had his groin aching; he’d wanted her the first time he looked at her. He stretched out and closed his eyes. What was keeping her? She didn’t have to fancy up for him. His head might be hurting, but the rest of him was at full attention and ready for duty.

It’s no wonder he liked women so much; what was there
not
to like? God sure had the right idea when he created a woman—even if she got her and Adam’s rear ends kicked out of Eden.

Of course, he had good cause to feel as he did. Garth thought warmly of his beloved mother, of his adorable sister Lissy; the fortitude of Emmaline, his brother Will’s wife who had lost her youngest and oldest sons during the war. Then he grinned, recalling the image of Becky, the irrepressible Yankee his brother Clay had married. Amazing women, all.

Especially the two ladies he’d met tonight, he thought with a smile, then yawned.

What in hell was keeping that woman? he wondered as he slipped into slumber.

Rory was surprised to discover Fraser fast asleep on her bed. She supposed it was just as well, though, with those two scoundrels undoubtedly hunting for him. More than likely they’d return to the Grotto, or try to find out if he’d rented a room in town for the night. Since she and Fraser hadn’t exchanged even a word at the Grotto, this would be the last place they’d look for him.

She picked up the boots he had tossed aside and tucked them neatly under her bed. He never batted a single one of those long eyelashes throughout the whole process.

For a long moment she stood looking down at him. He sure was handsome. And even better—he didn’t stink. That put him high on the totem pole, to her way of thinking.

He’s just another drifter passing through, Rory, so don’t get your hopes up.
Just the same, he seemed like a nice-enough fella.

Rory picked up one of the pillows and grabbed the comforter from the foot of the bed, then blew out the lamp and went into her father’s room, where the man who’d claimed he’d get no sleep was snoring away. She spread the comforter on the floor and took off her shoes.

For a long while she lay awake thinking about how easily Garth Fraser’s life might have changed, or even ended, if Bates and Skull had succeeded with their foul deed.

“You’re a lucky man, Garth Fraser,” she murmured, “and you owe me a big favor.”

But whether he’d ever return the favor or not, Rory was glad she’d intervened. It was satisfying to know she had followed her conscience rather than take the easier and safer way out.

Garth awoke the next morning and lay drowsily assembling the events of the previous night in his mind. As his head began to clear, the pieces of the puzzle took shape: leaving the Grotto, the attack, and his rescue by the woman. He’d had his fair share of close calls during the war, but shanghaied! God forbid. He’d
never
had a desire to sail a boat, much less go to sea for an extended time. The sea was more to his brother Jed’s liking. During the war Jed had sailed on a privateer, running much-needed supplies through the Yankee ships blockading the Southern ports.

Garth had made a few necessary trips on the James River on a paddleboat or barge, but only when he couldn’t persuade one of his brothers to do it for him. Horseback was his love. He and his horse Boots got along just fine.

He sat up in bed with an urgent call from Nature to relieve himself of all that whiskey he’d drunk last night. Seeing no chamber pot, he unlocked the door and scanned the hallway, then hurried to the door marked
PRIVY
.

“Good morning,” Rory greeted when he returned to the room. She continued to plump up the pillow on the bed.

“Good morning.”

Why couldn’t he remember making love to her? They must have shared her bed last night, but he hated to think he’d slept through it and missed the best opportunity he could ever hope for.

She sure was a pretty sight. Her blond hair was swept up to the top of her head and her face was scrubbed clean of the makeup she wore in the Grotto. Her plain homespun blue gown with a white collar added brightness to those blue eyes of hers. He’d woken up in the bed of a pretty woman more times than he could remember, but this one had to be about the best-looking one yet. He sat down on the edge of the bed and put on his boots.

“How are you feeling this morning?” she asked.

“Name’s Garth Fraser, ma’am,” he said.

“Yes, I know. Mine’s Rory O’Grady.”

He smiled at her. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss O’Grady. I’m beholden to you.”

“That was some beating you took last night.”

“Guess I’ll survive. The message just hasn’t reached my head yet.”

Garth picked up his gun belt and strapped it on. “What did they hit me with?”

“It looked like a blackjack. I think all that whiskey you drank last night might be contributing to your misery, too, Mr. Fraser.”

He winked at her. “You may be right. Call me Garth, Miss Rory O’Grady.”

She felt a tug at her heart at the way his tongue curled around her name, and she smiled at him. He was an easy man to like. A real charmer, all right.

“So why did you do it, Miss O’Grady? You could have been hurt.”

“I saw them following you and figured they were up to no good.”

“Do you know anything about them?”

“About as much as you do. The big one’s Bates and the other one is Skull. That’s what they called each other last night.”

“Did you ever see them before?”

“They came into the Grotto one night last week. Didn’t speak to anyone. After a couple of drinks, they got up and left. Then they showed up again last night. Same thing. They just sat, not saying anything to anyone. When you came downstairs, they got up and followed you out. Rumor has it they shanghai strangers traveling alone.”

“Guess it’s more than a rumor,” Garth said. “Why hasn’t the sheriff arrested them?”

“The sheriff!” Rory scoffed. “He’s as crooked as they are, and probably in cahoots with them. I’m thinking Mo might be, too. But I don’t think any of the girls are, because they’re the ones who told me about Bates and Skull.”

“Well, you saved me from a long sea trip, Miss Rory. I don’t know when I can repay you, but you can be sure I will someday when I hit it big.”

“Don’t tell me you’re a gambler, too. You men are all alike, always betting on winning that big pot.”

“I’m not talking about gambling, Miss Rory. There’s more than one kind of way to get rich.”

She laughed. “Indeed. The
big
gold mine that’s just awaiting for you to pick up the nuggets.”

Garth chuckled. “Could be.”

She gaped in shock. “It
is
that, isn’t it? Holy sweet Mary! I sure had you pegged wrong, Garth Fraser. Figured you had something better under your hat than just a head good for smashing blackjacks over.”

“Ah…about last night. Right now I only have a few dollars, but you’re welcome to them.”

“’Tis a kindly offer, but why would I take your money?”

He glanced toward the bed. “You mean we didn’t…”

She felt the heated flush of rising anger. “We certainly
didn’t
!”

His smile of relief was just as irritating. “Then let me at least pay for the broken bottle of whiskey.”

“You can be certain I’m doing just fine without your charity, Mr. Fraser.”

He threw back his head in laughter. “You know, Miss Rory O’Grady, I find it delightful how you slip in and out of a brogue whenever that pert little nose of yours gets out of joint.”

Rory blushed and took a deep breath to regain control. She’d worked too hard to rid herself of the brogue to get careless now. Glancing up at him, she tried to ignore the effect his engaging grin had on her.

“The whiskey was put to a better use than it would have been here,” she said. “Now if I were you, Mr. Fraser, I’d get out of town first thing this morning in case those two scoundrels are still around.”

“I’m not afraid of them. Now that I’m aware of what they’re up to, I can take care of myself. But what about you? It’s not safe for you to remain here. They’ll want to get even with you for helping me.”

“Neither of them saw me, so I’ll be safe. I’ll go back to work tonight, and no one will be the wiser.”

“Why are you working in a dump like the Grotto anyway?”

“Because they didn’t need my services at the Palace.”

“I mean, why sell yourself for a couple bucks?”

Despite his friendly tone, she resented the remark. Who was
he
to judge what she had to do just to keep a roof over her head? Much less a fancy Southern mansion like that soothing Southern accent of his reflected.

“I am not a prostitute, Mr. Fraser. Maybe you should address your question to Miss Shelia, since I didn’t hear you turn down her offer.”

“Then why…what…” he stuttered.

“I hustle watered-down drinks and listen to men’s tales of woe, and if they’re willing to pay twenty-five cents, I dance with them. That’s all
any
man gets from me: a sympathetic ear or a dance.”

Rory squared her shoulders, picked up his hat, and opened the door. “Now, I’d appreciate you getting your ungrateful rear end out of here.”

He came over to her and clasped her by the shoulders. “Rory, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean how it sounded.”

“Please leave, sir. I’m sure your mother didn’t raise her son to ignore a woman’s wishes, whether a lady or not.”

For a long moment he stared down at her, and her pride made her hold the stare.

“You’re right, Rory, she didn’t. So I’ll leave as you wish.”

Transfixed, she watched the slow descent of his mouth toward hers and knew she should turn away. But she couldn’t. Call it helplessness, call it curiosity, or call it what it rightfully was—desire. From the moment their gazes had met in that barroom, she had thought about this kiss.

She parted her lips.

From the first touch of his lips, sweet sensation spiraled through her. The kiss was slow, exciting, and she responded with fervency she never suspected she was capable of. He broke the kiss only long enough for them to draw a much needed breath, and as he reclaimed her lips, her head and body swirled with aroused passion.

She struggled for coherence under his drugging kisses when he swept her up in his arms and carried her to the bed.

“Put me down,” she ordered.

“My very thought, ma’am.” He laid her down, then unbuckled his gun belt.

“No, you don’t understand,” she protested in a choking whisper.

“Understand what?” He sat on the bed and pulled off a boot. It hit the floor with a thump.

“You can’t do this.”

“Oh, baby, you’ve got that wrong.” He leaned over and kissed the tip of her nose. “A little headache isn’t enough to stop me.”

His other boot thumped to the floor, and he got up and pulled off her shoes. “Now let’s get that dress off you.”

She slapped his hands away when he lowered himself to her and reached for the buttons of her dress. “Get off me, you big oaf! If you don’t listen to me, I’m going to scream,” she warned.

“After last night it’s a little late for modesty, isn’t it?”

“Nothing happened last night.”

“Why are you whispering, honey?”

“I don’t want to disturb my father. He’s in the next room.”

He jerked up his head. “Your father is what?”

“You awake, darlin’?” a voice called out from the adjoining room.

“Yes, Pop, I’ll be right in as soon as I finish dressing.”

Garth rolled off her with a groan. “I don’t believe this.” He began to pull on his boots as she scrambled off the bed.

“Get out of here!” she hissed, arranging her disheveled hair.

Within seconds he stood up and came over to her. “This isn’t the end between us, Rory. We have a debt to settle, and I’ll not say good-bye until we do.”

“We have no debt to settle, Garth Fraser. Just be careful, and watch your back. And I hope someday you’ll find that treasure you’re seeking.”