Timeless Passion: 10 Historical Romances To Savor (17 page)

“Excuse me. I need a little fresh air.” He stood abruptly, settled his hat on his head, turned on his heel, and left, weaving deftly through the crowd.

• • •

After they arrived home, Dutch stopped Edith as she put away the last of the supper things. “I want to apologize for my behavior on the ferry. I was churlish for no good reason. Please forgive me.”

She smiled, and her eyes shone up at him. “I’ll forgive you if you’ll do me one favor.”

“Anything. Just ask.”

“Be careful what you agree to.”

“Will it kill me?”

“I hope not.”

“Kiss me.”

He should have known. “That is a bad idea.”

She gave a nod. “Perhaps, but this is my wedding day. Most likely the only wedding day I will ever have, and since we know there will be no wedding night. I would like a kiss, please. By the way, you’re forgiven regardless of what you decide to do.”

Now he truly felt like a churl. If he prided himself on attention to the proprieties, the least he could do is give her a traditional wedding kiss.

“Come here.”

She took a step toward him.

“All the way. I can scarcely kiss you at arm’s length.”

Her smile broadened. “Meet me halfway.”

He did. Her arms circled his neck as his embraced her body. She lifted her head to him as he bent his to her.

The kiss was soft and thrilled her to her bones. Unable to resist more she pressed closer to him. His arms tightened, lifting her from the floor. His hands slid down to cup her bottom. Her core ached, her body quivered.

• • •

“I see you haven’t forgotten the tricks Cerise taught you.” Judge Jeremiah Trahern’s voice squelched passion more effectively than an ice bath.

Dutch pushed Edith behind him and turned to face the judge.

“Don’t be shy, son.” The judge tossed his stove pipe hat onto the table and bent to retrieve the kitten who’d come to sniff the stranger in its domain. “I didn’t have the chance to meet the lady from Boston at Madame Duval’s. Leastways, I figure that’s who you’ve got hiding back there. Be a good boy and introduce the gal to your father.”

“Get out!” Dutch edged Edith toward the dining room door. Much as he needed to talk with his father, Dutch’s instincts screamed to keep him away from Edith.

“Oh no, son. We got us an appointment. Remember?”

Reaching the door, Dutch shoved Edith through to the dining room. “Go upstairs and don’t come down until I fetch you.”

“But … ”

“No. I can and will handle this alone. He’d only use you to manipulate me. So do me a favor and stay upstairs.”

“Okay.” She took the kitten from the judge before she left.

He turned back to the judge. “That was days ago. Why should I pay you for old information?”

Jem’s eyes narrowed. Then he smiled broadly and gave an off-hand nod. “Don’t be hasty, son. If you don’t want to know Trey’s whereabouts, it’s no never mind to me. But there’s no reason you and I can’t spend some time catching up.” He pulled out a chair and sat down. “How’s that Chinese of yours? What’s her name, Tsung? She get along with Miss Boston?”

Dutch ground his teeth. The judge was trying to be subtle, but even a moron could see the threat when Jeremiah Trahern mentioned Trey’s disappearance and Tsung in the same breath.

“All right, where is he? What has the Chinaman done with him?” Dutch advanced on his worthless father.

“Not so fast.” The older man raised a palm, stood, and moved around the table, away from Dutch.

“I’m not giving you anything until I know where Trey is.”

“You might want to reconsider that position.”

“I don’t think so,” Dutch growled, impatience a goad to his temper.

“Then neither of us will know where Trey is.”

Dutch tossed the table aside and lunged for the judge. The older man dodged to no avail. Dutch grasped him by the throat and lifted his full weight against the kitchen wall. “You filthy bastard, what have you done?”

“Calm down, Dutchy,” rasped the judge. Fear glimmered in his bloodshot eyes. “You kill me, and you’ll never find Trey.”

“I wouldn’t dirty my hands with you.” Dutch dropped the man and turned away. He ran his fingers through his hair then faced the older man again. “Conroy’s vigilance committee will be only too happy to get rid of you for me. So quit stalling and tell me where Trey is.”

The judge picked himself up off the floor. He dusted his clothing, straightened his collar and cuffs. “I don’t know, exactly.”

“What!” Dutch roared and clenched his fists. He’d already lost too much control. He refused to let the judge prod him further. “What do you mean,
you don’t know exactly
?”

“Well, like I told you at Duval’s, I know where Trey was headed.”

“And?”

“I don’t believe he got there.”

Dutch picked up the table and placed it back in the center of the room. He set a chair next to it then walked over to the judge. Dutch put a hand on the older man’s shoulder and forced him into the chair.

Next he reached to the highest shelf of the kitchen and pulled down a bottle and a glass. He poured a finger of whiskey and shoved the glass toward the judge, watching as the man downed the shot in one gulp.

“So far you’ve only repeated what little you’ve already told me. I want the rest, all of it.”

“Trey came to me some time back. He wanted money. Said you were gonna ship him to some fancy school back east and he didn’t want to go.”

It was the first Dutch had heard of any plan to send Trey east, but he kept all sign of surprise from his face. “That was foolish. Trey should know you never have any money that you don’t gamble or drink away.”

“Says you,” whined the judge. “But I got my resources.” He pushed the glass toward Dutch.

Dutch stared at him.

“Anyhow, like I told you at Duval’s place, I helped Trey get work driving a wagon load of women to Sacramento. Boy shoulda show’d up there a couple days after you won the bidding on Miss Boston.”

Dutch wondered if the bottle would break, he gripped it that hard. “You put Trey in danger from the Chinaman. That’s old information.”

“I gave him what he wanted.”

“He’s only nineteen.” Dutch tried to keep his voice from rising with very little success.

“You were a lot younger when you started working for Duval.”

“You think I wanted to do dirty work for whores and thieves? I did what I had to do.”

“You liked the money just fine.”

“The first chance I had, I got out and took Trey with me. I swore he’d never have to whore like I did.”

“He ain’t sellin’ himself.”

Dutch snorted. “Isn’t he? Does Trey know who’s paying him?”

Jem looked down at the empty glass. “Gimme a drink.”

“Where is Trey?”

The judge licked his lips. “I told you. He was drivin’ a wagon to Sacramento.”

“I know that. He was driving for the Chinaman. Tell me something I don’t know. Tell me where Trey is.”

The older man swallowed and mumbled something.

Dutch couldn’t believe what he’d heard. “Say that so we can both hear it.”

“You’re right. Trey was driving for the Chinaman, and the Chinaman has him. Has since three nights after you bought little Miss Boston.”

So long? Trey could be dead by now.
The whisky bottle shattered against the kitchen wall.

The judge cringed.

“I should kill you right now and save Father Conroy’s vigilantes the trouble. You’re still not telling me anything I hadn’t figured for myself.”

“The padre’s got nothin’ on me.”

“No? He knows someone is taking women in and out of San Francisco. When I was trapped into that farce at Duval’s, the committee was watching for that wagonload of women. A wagon Trey was driving.”

The judge looked up. “They didn’t catch ’em. The whole town woulda heard if Conroy and his bunch had criminals in custody or had found that ship where the Chinaman keeps folks he’s mad at or wants to ship out of the country.”

“Maybe. But something happened or you wouldn’t be here. The Chinaman would have paid you off.”

The judge’s gaze slid away.

“What haven’t you told me?”

“Nothin’, I swear. I told you everything. Even confirmed that Trey was on one of the Chinaman’s ships.”

“How did you find out?”

“The Chinaman. He blames me for the loss of his merchandise and sent me a message. Says he wants his girls or his money. Those girls are long gone. I need that money bad, Dutch.”

Trey was still alive. Fear followed relief in quick order. But what kind of shape was he in, and for how long would he survive?

“I’ll just bet you want money. Do you even know which ship Trey is on?”

The judge hung his head. “No.”

“So the Chinaman thinks you double crossed him.”

“I never … ”

“We aren’t going to discuss what kind of a lowdown, lying snake you are.” Dutch refused to waste any more precious time reviewing ancient history or licking old wounds. “We are going to find Trey and get him out of the mess you’ve made. Then you’ll get on a boat for Panama and never come back to San Francisco.”

“You can’t make me do that.”

“You like losing money, Judge. Bet me.”

“You haven’t paid me yet,” the older man whined.

“You think I’ll pay you for putting Trey in danger or worse?”

The judge studied him. “Yeah. You’ll pay me. You got a reputation, son. For always making good on any deal you strike. You struck a deal with me.”

“So what? You wouldn’t hesitate to cheat me. Why shouldn’t I welch on you?”

“’Cause then you’d be just like your old man, and that would stick in your craw so bad you’d choke to death.”

The judge was right. Dutch could lower himself back into the muck he’d spent ten years climbing out of or he could pay the man off.

“Wait here,” he said and abruptly turned on his heel.

Two minutes later Dutch walked back into the kitchen. He dropped a bundle of bills on the table in front of his father. “Get out.”

The judge lifted the bundle. “But that’s only half.”

“Too bad. You’ll get the other half after I get Trey and put you on that boat to Panama.”

The judge stood.

Dutch didn’t move.

The elder Trahern grabbed his hat and scuttled around him to the outer door. “You’ll regret this, son.”

“The only thing I regret is being related to you.”

The judge gave Dutch a long look. “Mebbe so. Long as I get paid, I don’t much care. I’ll be in touch about Trey.” His father put the cash into his coat pocket and left.

Dutch leaned against the kitchen wall. Lord, he was tired. But with Trey in trouble he couldn’t afford to rest. Once Cerise Duval discovered Edith’s trunk missing, the madam would be twice as eager to add to his troubles. How long, he wondered, before her fury descended on Edith, and what could he possibly do to prevent it?

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Edith lay awake contemplating the feel of Dutch’s lips on hers, his arms around her, his hard muscles beneath her fingers. Again and again, the entire scene played through her mind. His kisses stirred her mightily. Each time left her yearning for more. She thought Dutch wanted more, too. However, afterward he always seemed angry at her or himself, so Edith wasn’t certain. For that matter she couldn’t be certain if his anger was caused by the kisses, the interruptions or the annulment. Although nothing had interrupted them on the way to Oakland, and he sure hadn’t been angry then. He hadn’t kissed her either, but he’d touched her whenever good manners permitted. He’d asked her to consider not going through with the annulment. She had thought about it, but with independence more possible every day, she could not bring herself to willingly turn control of her life over to anyone.

Nonetheless, those kisses called to her. She couldn’t help but wonder if a little passion wouldn’t help them both. On that thought she’d finally fallen asleep, not waking until the morning was nearly gone.

A series of thumps and two following thunks broke her rest. Abruptly awake, she sat up in time to see Tsung shooing several of her relatives out the bedroom door.

“What the … ” Edith caught sight of the two metal-bound cases in the middle of the room. “The trunks!”

Edith leapt out of bed to the tune of Tsung haranguing her relatives from the top of the stairs. Hands atremble with delight at having her own things, Edith unhooked the remaining latches and threw the trunk’s lid upward.

There on top, still neatly folded, was her blue sateen walking dress, and beneath that her spring cloak in dark navy serge. The clothes weren’t in the first stare of style. Grandfather believed fashion to be sinful, and she’d had no money to replace the plain clothing with more pleasing attire. But the clothes were decent and serviceable and would allow her at long last to get out of borrowed attire.

“Before he leave today, Mista Dutch say he got other trunk and I should bring it to you. Tsung sorry if clumsy relatives wake Missee.”

Disappointment fell on Edith’s heart like a rockslide. Was he trying to avoid her? She couldn’t be certain. Regardless, she had work to do, starting with examining the contents of her trunk to see if anything was missing. “Thank you very much, Tsung. I’m very grateful to your family for helping me to retrieve these.”

“Good-good. I go wash laundry. Mista Dutch be home for dinner tonight. Need cloth for table. You need help, you call Tsung.” The woman smiled and patted Edith’s shoulder. “You good woman, Missee. Make Mista Dutch have long happy life. Tsang family glad to help. Tsung marry Lijun soon.”

After Tsung left, Edith knelt on the floor carefully lifting items from the trunk until she reached the packet of papers at the bottom.

“Thank heaven,” she murmured to the stillness. She opened the packet and examined the contents. All of Kiera’s letters, a copy of the will, and her identification documents. Everything but the ten one hundred dollar bills she’d intended to use to get her and Kiera home.

I shouldn’t be surprised. Madame Duval was only interested in money. I was foolish to think I could manage her. Still, admitting my responsibility in this situation doesn’t help me solve it. Stealing the money back isn’t an option. Cash would be much more difficult to find and get away with than a trunk. No, I have to consider the money a complete loss. And now Duval knows I’m Kiera’s sister as well as the details of the inheritance. What will the woman make of that? More important, how do I fund my search for Kiera
?