At the Rainbow's End (21 page)

“I said ‘Yes!'” Hoots and catcalls resounded through the room. With a wiggle, Lille walked to the scales. She smiled and waved to the men as she sat down in the sling. “Take a good look, boys. After tonight, I'll be a respectable married woman.”

Samantha gasped in horror. When she saw Joel's smile, she jerked her hand out of his, grabbed her bag and started to rise. His hand on her arm kept her in her seat.

“Stay,” he ordered softly. “This is harmless.”

“Harmless! She's selling herself—”

“For her weight in gold.” Joel's lips tightened. “It's her life, Sam. Let her choose how she will waste it. She has decided what she wants and is going after it, instead of vacillating. But of course you would never trade yourself for gold, would you?”

Appalled he would suggest such a thing, even in jest, she glared at the table. When he put his fingers under her chin to turn her to look at him, she twisted her head away. He took her chair and scraped it across the floor to face him. His hands framed her cheeks. She gasped.

“Let me go!”

“That is one thing I don't ever intend to do, Sam,” he said in a tone far gentler than his touch, and she melted. When he leaned forward to kiss her, she could not resist touching his freshly smoothed cheek.

He released her suddenly, and she knew Kevin approached. The blond was in a jovial mood as he sat next to her. Picking up a fresh mug of beer, he took a long draught.

“Bells from Thirty Above is up at the bar, Joel,” he said with a broad smile. “Wants to talk to you about the storage of pay dirt for the winter.”

“You know as much about that as I do.”

“He wants to talk to you. That's what he said.” He shrugged. “Maybe he trusts your highfalutin' words more than plain speaking.”

Joel stood. “Bells is an ass. Oh, what the hell! My beer is gone, anyhow. More for you, Samantha?”

Deeply aware of what she really wanted more of, she shook her head. It took all her will not to watch him as he walked across the room with assurance and grace.

Kevin's voice brought her attention back to him. “So Lille and Riley are finally going to get hitched?” He laughed. “Damn expensive bride. Even more expensive than you, Samantha.”

“Kevin,” she warned, “I think you're drinking too much.”

“And why not? It's a wedding. It's time to celebrate.” He pushed his face close to hers. The odor of beer washed over her, and she wondered how many he had drunk with friends at the bar. He could not be this intoxicated on less than two beers. “Too bad it isn't our wedding. I wouldn't drink too much that night. I would want to be aware of every inch of you in our bed.”

She shoved him away, sloshing beer onto his arm, and he cursed goodnaturedly. Consumed by his desires, he was too soused to care what she said or did.

“Now, Sammy,” he crooned as he slipped his arm around her waist, “don't be so cold. Hell, girl, you know how I feel about you.”

“Kev—” The rest of her words disappeared beneath his beer-soured lips. When she slid out of his embrace, he wrenched her from her chair and onto his lap. She averted her face to avoid his mouth.

His thick fingers twisted in her hair, and she gasped in astonishment and pain as he jerked her face back under his. She saw a malevolent gleam in his glazed eyes, but she bit back a reprimand. This was not the gentle Kevin who delighted in bringing her flowers to grace their table. She faced a stranger, one who terrified her with his fury.

In a tightly clipped tone, he whispered, “I nearly lost once before, but he found he couldn't take her away from me.”

“Who?” she managed to say through teeth clenched with anguish.

He shook her, smiling when she winced. “You're different, Samantha. You won't be like her. She cried. You wouldn't cry, would you?”

“Kevin, I don't know what you're talking about!” Desperation tinged her voice. Her eyes searched the room for Joel. As never before, she needed him to help her. She had to escape this manifestation of Kevin. “Kevin, please. You're hurting me!”

He blinked rapidly, slowly releasing her hair. He placed her on her feet and stood. “Excuse me,” he said in a nearly inaudible tone. “I think I have had too much to drink.”

“What's the matter here?”

Samantha wanted to shout praises when she heard Joel's steady voice, but wondered how she could answer. She knew this was not normal behavior for Kevin.

“Kevin isn't feeling well.”

Joel's blue eyes left her pale face and found his partner slouched in his chair. When he asked if Kevin wanted to leave, the blond shook his head slowly and grumbled an unintelligible answer.

Joel's next question was halted by an announcement from the stage. “Five thousand dollars! A bride for five thousand dollars! 'Tis a bargain. Where's the preacher?” A man dressed in dusty blacks was aided onto the stage.

The rapid service reminded Samantha of Gwen's marriage to her Mr. Munroe in Dawson. She doubted if this bride and groom were any more serious. Everything was a game in the Yukon. Everything but the search for the elusive gold flakes along the waterways.

When Riley kissed his new wife, cheers echoed among the rafters. Riley's call for free drinks for all increased the wild shouts and whistles. The clank of the untuned piano could barely pierce the noise as the men surged to the bar.

“What do you want?” Kevin asked in a slurred voice.

“Nothing, thank you.” About to say she thought he had had enough, also, she hesitated.

“Joel?”

“Just got one, Kevin. I'm all set.”

Kevin patted her shoulder and reeled toward the crowd on the opposite side of the room. She watched him bump into several men. None of them seemed concerned by his erratic steps.

“Does he always drink this much in town?” she asked softly.

Joel shook his head. “I've seen him this drunk only once before. Right after we arrived in Dawson, he struck up a very warm friendship with a dance hall girl at the Aurora Hotel. Her name's Leslie Morgain. I never saw a man so smitten so fast. He wanted to marry her. She was more interested in the hundred dollars a night she could make for dancing and pushing drinks.” He picked up his mug and sipped on the cold beer reflectively. “He still sees her each time he goes to Dawson. Of course that may have changed now.”

“Because of me?”

“Looking for compliments, Sam?”

She scowled at his infuriating grin. “Can't you be serious about this? He's your partner, after all.”

“My partner, not my child. He's a grown man. If he finds comfort in alcohol, I won't deny him that solace.” He took her hand and drew her to her feet. “Let's dance, Sam.”

“Dance? Can we?”

“I'll pay you a dollar, if that's what you want.” He stroked her arm. Whatever Kevin had said to her when the liquor loosened his tongue had disturbed her greatly.

When she stepped into his arms, she was somehow not surprised at how perfectly they fit her. Although the rhythm of the dance was broken by the pauses for changes of partners, he twirled her evenly across the floor with a powerful fluidity, creating complex patterns she followed with ease. As her skirt belled at each turn, it flowed back to spin around his legs.

His hand on her back urged her close to him. The taut line of his thighs brushed hers on each step, creating a flush across her face which had nothing to do with the temperature of the room. Thin layers of material could not keep her from sensing the movement of muscles all along his virile form. Unable to stop herself, she slipped her fingers under his high collar, teasing the small hairs at his nape.

As he steered' her through the crowd of dancers, all she saw was the indigo velvet of his gaze, cushioning her as his arms had when he teased her body with his loving. Moving with him, she savored the memory of those infrequent kisses.

As they circled the room, far from the table where Kevin now sat in morose silence, Joel murmured, “Finally it's my turn. I have been waiting for this since the night you danced with Kevin in the cabin. You feel as perfect in my arms now as I imagined you would when I watched you with him.”

Leaning her head on the sturdy expanse of his chest, she listened to his heart beat in counter tempo to the music. His hand stroked her back, creating a pattern of tingling sparks across her skin. She smiled with a happiness she had never known. Months ago, she would have laughed if anyone had said she would fall in love with this haughty, obsessed man, but right now she seemed to be doing it.

As they paused in the middle of a step, Joel's boot came down directly on the toe of her thin slipper, and she yelped with pain. Then he pushed her behind him, and she saw the bruised face of the troublemaker from the church dinner, Ogilvie. His face was a paisley print of bruises. That Joel had escaped without a mark was astonishing.

With a fierce laugh, the brutish Ogilvie shoved Joel aside and grabbed Samantha. “Changed your line of business to dancing, honey?” he taunted.

“Mr. Ogilvie, take your fat hands off me! Go tend to your face. It's the color of blueberries!”

He growled at her insult. Then, his eyes glittering with lust, he stuck a folded dollar bill between two front buttons of her shirt. She tried to pull her hands from his grip to throw the money on the floor.

As the large man was whirled about to face an enraged Joel, she was thrown to the hard wood floor. Joel's fist hit the drunk's face again. Ogilvie reeled, nearly stepping on her fingers. Crying out, scrambling to her feet, she tried to escape. The crowd around them kept her penned in the center of the room.

Ogilvie raised his fists, no longer interested in her. Another shriek erupted from her as he struck Joel. Joel went down onto his knees, then struggled to his feet, only to meet the thick fist again. Blood splattered across the floor.

As she heard Ogilvie's exultant laughter, she reached for a heavy tray on a nearby table. Raising it high, she brought it down on his head. Stunned, he turned on her like a maddened bull. Again she lifted it. With a dull clunk, it hit him a second and a third time. Only when he slumped face down on the floor did she stop.

She clutched the dented tray, ready to use it if Ogilvie tried to hurt her or Joel again. Someone took it from her. She stood over Ogilvie's prone body, her chest heaving, not aware that she was sobbing uncontrollably. Suddenly, she was being held against Joel's strong body. Holding onto him tightly, she wept in relief and horror.

“Hush, Sam,” came his mumbled words, spoken into her hair. “Hush. Now isn't the time to cry. You were so brave.”

“I wasn't brave. I was mad!” she blurted, shaking and still sobbing.

He lowered her gently onto a chair. Someone pressed a glass into her hands, and she mumbled thanks as she lifted it to her lips. The wine eased the tight bands around her chest and allowed her to breathe more normally.

Kevin finally broke through the crowd, to see his partner wiping blood from his mouth on a corner of a table-cloth. He ignored Joel as he dropped to his knees by Samantha.

“Honey, are you hurt?”

“Don't worry about me. It's Joel he struck.”

“I'm fine,” Joel said, grinning. Then he grimaced, a sharp pain racing through his head. “I'm much better than I'd have been without your help, Sam.” Glancing at the bully sprawled on the floor, he added, “Ogilvie'll be suffering a headache far worse than mine.”

When Kevin rose and put his face close to his partner's, Joel looked baffled. Samantha leapt to her feet to grab the blond's raised fist. Kevin lowered his arm to rest on her shoulders, continuing to glare at Joel.

In the same strange voice he had used when they fought in the river shortly after Samantha's arrival, Kevin said, “Don't ever risk her like this again. Do you understand? If you do, I'll take you apart, inch by inch.”

“Kevin,” she murmured, “let's go. I'm tired. We have a busy day tomorrow.” She wanted to defuse this confrontation. The odd timbre of his words brought to mind the terrifying incident when he seemed to alter before her eyes. If she could divert his attention to her again, perhaps this would be ended.

“Of course. Joel, why don't you get her cloak? C'mon, honey.”

As they walked toward the door, Samantha looked back at Joel, her eyes speaking of gratitude and the love he had been waiting for her to discover. Delighted, a lilt in his step, he scooped up the wool cape from her chair.

“Shall we go to the hotel?” he asked, joining them. “I think we all deserve a good night's sleep after our adventures. Will you be ready for the same old views tomorrow, Sam?”

Samantha slipped her arm through his, careful to keep her hand on Kevin's arm, too. “The same old views will be fine, as long as I have my partners with me.”

“Always,” he said with fervor.

“Always,” seconded Kevin.

“Always,” she added, to make it unanimous, but her smile was solely for Joel. She had learned many things on this trip to Grand Forks. Most of all, she discovered she might be falling in love with this enigmatic man named Joel Gilchrist. She looked forward to learning more and more about him in the days and nights ahead.

Chapter Twelve

“Kevin!” Samantha cried as he reeled toward her. “What is wrong?” Rushing out into the cool air, she put her shoulder beneath his arm to help support him. She had heard his hesitant footsteps, and knew something was not right in the frost-dusted yard.

He had no chance to answer. Joel came racing up the hill from the Bonanza, carrying the irreplaceable tools they used by the sluice. Dropping them next to the door, he said, “He's sick. He has to get to bed.”

“I'm fine,” the blond mumbled. “Just feel cold.”

“I don't wonder,” said Samantha. “That river had a layer of ice on it last night. You should be done with the sluicing for the season!” She relented when he staggered heavily against her. Then she could see that his stomach threatened to revolt. “Help me, Joel.”