She Was Like a Virgin Pure Romance
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“I’m fine, Mr. Fletcher.” She took another long pull of her coffee to cover the fact that she’d been in such pain that she could barely sleep.
He studied her as if he were looking for something. “You’ve changed since you first arrived at Fletcher’s Folly.” His eyes narrowed and his expression darkened. He didn’t speak but she knew what he was thinking.
That they were going through with their arrangement no matter what happened between them or how much she hated him. It was obvious from her expression that she wasn’t happy about it either. And then there was the problem of keeping her secret safe from him. The thought made her cringe.
“What do you think?” she asked finally. It came out too quickly after having to come up with a question on the spur of the moment. But she needed him to understand why this was important to her. Not because she felt any obligation toward him. She did not. “I want my past gone forever—and I don’t mean that literally, Mr. Fletcher.” Her gaze darted away from his and focused on the tablecloth again.
A muscle worked in his jaw as his face turned grim. His hand tightened over hers so hard she thought she might feel bones breaking beneath her fingers. When she looked back into his eyes he had tears welling up in the corners of his own.
“Mr. Fletcher,” she whispered, reaching across the table to touch his cheek. She tried to tell herself that the gesture meant nothing more than that. That she wanted him to know that he wasn’t alone, even though he was the one who’d left town. “Don’t cry,” she added when his voice broke. “It will be okay.” But it won’t be okay if we get caught.
His eyes were locked onto the table top as his throat worked on every word. “You’re right.” A single tear slid down his cheek to land on her palm where she could see it shimmer in the candlelight. “We’ll make it work.” He pulled her hand to his lips and kissed the spot where the tear had fallen.
She didn’t say anything else. Instead, she stood and went to the bar to pour herself another cup of coffee while he poured himself another shot of whiskey. As soon as they were alone together in the dining room, she would have to ask him about that. Why hadn’t he told anyone that he was an undercover agent?
She wouldn’t be surprised if he refused to answer her. She just hoped he knew enough about men to realize that it would cause a major breach of trust for her if he didn’t.
As they walked into the dining room, the other guests stared at her with varying degrees of curiosity, suspicion, and disapproval. Some even looked away. They were used to seeing her dressed for business meetings but here she was dressed like a schoolgirl. The women wore dresses but not tight ones that exposed their legs.
No, their skirts reached down to the ankles, and they also wore high heels. Their hair was pinned up under their hats and some wore gloves. The men all wore suits with long coats. There were no ties worn by the younger generation, and only a few had hats hanging from their necks. Only the older gentlemen had hats and they all wore them indoors, which struck her as odd.
The meal began with a toast to friendship and then the main course was served. The fried chicken was served with mashed potatoes, turnips, string beans, and biscuits. Afterward, there was pie for dessert—apple and cherry.
She wasn’t expecting such a fancy meal, and she’d expected a formal occasion. Maybe it was because of the people attending or maybe it was the way the food was being prepared and served. She couldn’t put her finger on it but this dinner seemed somehow different.
When they finished eating and the ladies cleared off the tables, a young man brought two chairs around for them and the conversation resumed. By now she was starting to relax and feel comfortable. She didn’t have to worry about being found out anymore—at least she didn’t think so. So far it had been easy to blend in with everyone else.
After they’d eaten, she excused herself to go to the bathroom and take a quick look at herself in the mirror. She frowned slightly and smoothed her skirt over her knees before returning to join him.
While waiting for the rest of the group to file out of the dining room, they sat in the parlor and continued talking. He explained that most of the Fletcher family died of cholera within months of each other in 1849. He said there was never a record of any of them dying of consumption.
And that was probably because no one cared for the old woman who lived in the cellar, let alone treated her symptoms. She’d died alone, forgotten and neglected in her bed upstairs. At first, he’d thought that she must have been one of the women who’d been buried in the cemetery but she was nowhere to be seen among the other markers.
Now he wondered if that was where they’d buried her body and then covered it up with dirt from outside.
They moved to the front room where she could sit near him. “Do you want to hear a story?” she asked.
He hesitated. Then his gaze shifted to the piano player as he started playing a tune she recognized. “No,” he replied after a moment’s hesitation. He nodded toward the piano. “I do.”
He followed her out to the piano where the piano player played for them and she took his hands in hers and started singing. It was a song she loved, written by a man named Cole Porter. “You’d better watch yourself, you can get hurt,” she sang.
“You should know what it is you’re dealing with before you decide to fall in love.” Her voice carried through the house and made her feel alive. It was a song filled with passion, and her heart thudded against her ribs.
“What do you mean?” His gaze held hers and he leaned closer, so close that her lips almost brushed his ear.
With the music playing, she turned the volume down to something more intimate. “That’s exactly what I’m doing now.” She smiled at him and waited for him to catch on.
***
The song ended and when she’d sung the last note, she felt like she had to catch her breath. When she finally caught her breath, she saw a puzzled expression on his face. That’s funny, she thought, she hadn’t noticed the same thing with him. Was he really thinking about something else instead of listening to her? She decided to test him. “I wonder if you remember me?”
His gaze met hers, and he looked away. “I’ve heard stories about you.”
“Really?” She tilted her head to indicate interest and watched as his eyes focused on her mouth. She wanted to kiss him again. But he pulled his hand free from her grip.
“Why didn’t you sing one of your own songs?” he asked quietly.
She shrugged. “My repertoire was limited back then.”
He shook his head and stood up from his chair. She glanced up and saw a muscle flex in his jaw but then he turned and went back inside, leaving her behind.
She waited a moment longer and then got up too. He might be embarrassed by her singing, but she knew he’d enjoy hearing some of her other work. As she walked into the foyer, she caught sight of him leaning against the door leading to the stairs. His gaze fell to the floor when she stopped beside him.
“It’s all right if you don’t want to hear my music,” she whispered in a soft tone. The only sounds were the piano player filling the air with another melody. There was no reason for her to explain herself to him, and there was still time left until the end of the performance. “Or if you’re not interested in me.”
She tried to sound indifferent while wondering how many other men were here tonight, or if he was just testing her, seeing if she’d be able to stand being ignored.
Instead of replying, he stepped away from the door and walked down the hall toward the staircase. She hurried to follow and then paused when he turned to face her. She could see that his eyes were dark, and he was breathing hard. What did that mean? She was trying to figure it out when he started walking again and quickly closed the distance between them.
When their gazes locked, he grabbed her hand, pulled her into the hall with him, and headed toward the front doors. She followed him out onto the porch and found him sitting on a swing.
“Where are we going?” she asked when he stopped swinging and turned to look at her.
He shrugged and pointed across the street. “Over there,” he said with a crooked smile. He reached inside his suit coat pocket and withdrew his key.
She looked out over the river and saw that he meant to take her somewhere outside the hotel where he could talk privately. He must be mad at her because of the way he’d treated her earlier. She’d been so sure that he’d come to her to help him.
She wondered where they were going until she heard the sound of the river lapping at the bank. They were at a small dock that jutted out of the water just below the hotel. She saw several boats tied to the pier and a few people fishing nearby. A breeze ruffled the ends of her hair and lifted her dress. It felt good, and she liked being outdoors, even though it was chilly.
A large white boat was docked near them, and she saw that it belonged to one of the guests. She’d seen it during dinner. It was big enough to hold three adults plus luggage and horses. If there was any chance of her getting a ride back to Chicago after this job was over, she needed to know if she was welcome aboard that vessel. So she asked, “Is anyone on that boat yours?”
He gave her a strange look. “Are you asking if I have an affair with that woman?”
“No.” She shook her head. “Of course not.” And he didn’t seem like that kind of man. No offense, she thought and smiled. “What I meant is that she could be your wife, girlfriend, fiancée — or maybe it belongs to someone else who might find it inconvenient to let you borrow it for such a short period of time.”
He laughed, which eased some of her tension and made him less intimidating. “We aren’t married.”
The fact that he owned a boat didn’t mean anything. Men who worked for him had probably bought a couple of yachts as their personal pleasure vessels and used them for business trips. That’s what she would have done if she’d owned one, and she wasn’t ashamed to admit it.
But before she could ask more questions, she noticed that a light mist was falling over the water, creating a fog. Her hair began to curl against her neck and arms.
“This isn’t going to work,” she said and tried to step away from the dock.
His hand shot out and blocked her way. “You can’t leave now,” he whispered softly.
As she gazed down into his eyes, she saw something else flash through them: desire. He stared at her for a moment, then leaned forward until his forehead touched hers, and she could feel the heat radiating off his body. It was a little unnerving because he was still holding her hand, and she couldn’t think straight while he was so close.
But she knew better than to touch him, knowing full well that it would make things worse. Instead of kissing her again, he pulled his face away from her and released her hand. When he stood up, the breeze brought goosebumps to her bare legs, making her shiver.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Let me go back inside where it’s warm.”
“No.” He held out his hand and helped her up. Then he took her by the elbow and led her around the side of the pier and to the stairs leading down into the river. He put her down on the deck, and then sat next to her. She tried to ignore how good it felt to be sitting beside him. He seemed comfortable in this cold air and on this wet wood floor.
Her heart raced faster when he placed his hand over his chest right above his heart. Was it possible that he was feeling her warmth too? Maybe, but she doubted it. She hadn’t been so affected by the weather until now because she’d worn her woolen undergarments, stockings, shoes, and hat when she came out here.
She wore nothing beneath her dress tonight except for a pair of underwear. She should have changed clothes before she went out on this assignment, but it was too late to go back inside the hotel for that now. She was afraid that if she did, she’d never come back out again.
When she didn’t speak, he moved closer and lowered his voice. “Why do you think I wanted to meet outside instead of inside the hotel?”
Her eyes searched his face. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking and hoped it wouldn’t be about sex.
“It was my idea to bring you out here.” His tone sounded a bit strained, but she didn’t mind. She liked talking with him. “I don’t want anybody overhearing us.”
“So I’ll keep quiet,” she promised. She glanced over his shoulder at the moonlit water beyond the edge of the pier. “How did you find me?”
“That’s what I wanted to talk about. We’re looking for the same person.”
“And that’s why you need help?”
She was hoping it wasn’t so. The only reason she’d agreed to meet him was for her own safety. If she were caught doing his dirty work, he would lose her protection for good, which might mean a return trip to prison. She had no desire to be locked up again.
But he didn’t seem worried about that now. He nodded. “That’s part of it. But it’s also personal.”
His admission startled her. What was so personal between him and this person that they needed each other? Why couldn’t he have just come out and said so from the beginning instead of playing this silly guessing game? It gave her hope that there might still be an innocent explanation, but it also added to her suspicion that there wasn’t one.
If he was telling the truth and his intentions weren’t evil, she might be able to get him to help her, and she’d have one less problem on her hands. So far, all he’d done was complicate matters.
“What exactly is it that we are looking for?” she asked. “Doesn’t the man in question look like anyone you know?”
He shook his head. “I’ve been searching for two days. I can’t even say whether he has brown hair or blond hair. That’s why you’re needed. You know him.”
She hesitated to answer.
“Just give me an honest answer.”
“Yes, he does,” she said. “I know that face!”
His eyebrows rose slightly.
“He’s a friend of mine. I met him when I worked as a housekeeper at a ranch up near Wyoming. He had just gotten out of prison after serving a term for stealing cattle. And I’m not sure, but maybe he got out of jail a couple of months ago.”
“Then your friend must be the same person.”
“Are you sure?” she asked. “Because he doesn’t look anything like me.” In fact, she was the exact opposite of what he described. She was tall, blonde, blue-eyed and very fair-skinned. The only thing similar about them was their height. But the rest of their features were vastly different.
He smiled. “You don’t remember him?”
“I do,” she lied. She had no desire to discuss his appearance. She knew that he was handsome, but she was too angry with him to let herself feel any attraction toward him.
She stood up to go inside, but he put his hand on her arm to stop her. “Let me show you something.”
He walked over to the railing and turned around slowly. Then he took off his hat and ran his hand through his black curls. She stared at his bare head in awe for a moment. No wonder he could run so fast! Her hair, on the other hand, grew in thin, wiry strands no matter how much she trimmed it. A lot of times she wished it would grow longer, but it remained short no matter what she did.
As his gaze fell upon her, she felt uncomfortable under his stare. It was hard to explain why, but she didn’t like being watched by people. She looked down at her hands, then back up at him again, but he hadn’t taken his eyes off her yet.
He smiled faintly. “I’m not sure if this will jog your memory, but I’ll try anyway.” He turned away from her, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a small envelope.
He handed it to her and waited for her to take it before moving farther along the rail and taking one last glance over his shoulder at her. When she didn’t reach out to accept it, he stepped away from the pier again and returned to the hotel entrance. She heard him walk inside and close the door behind him.
After waiting until she saw the shadow of his horse disappear, she tucked the letter into her pocket and walked up the stairs alone. She went directly to her room without stopping at the bar where she usually hung out, and changed out of her traveling dress, leaving it folded on top of her trunk.
After hanging up her blouse, she grabbed her gun belt and pistol, stuffed them in a satchel, and left the room. She made certain to lock the door behind her.
Outside, she hurried to the stables and saddled a horse while she waited for her escort to arrive. By the time he arrived, she already had the reins in her hand.
She waited outside for him to join her before she rode off. They headed north on foot until they reached the ranch house in question. This late in the evening, it was dark enough for her to see well enough, but she wanted his assistance once the sun came up tomorrow so that she wouldn’t be walking blindfolded through a pitch-black forest.
“There are three cabins up here,” he said when he joined her. “Each cabin looks the same, but there are slight differences between each of them. I marked all the cabins’ doors on my map, but I think I missed one. I’m sorry.”
She nodded her agreement. “That makes sense. We’re lucky because we have a clear description. If we can’t find him in the morning, we’ll return to town and start searching for him in the afternoon.”
“What happens next?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I guess we wait until nightfall and search again.”
They both glanced at each other briefly before looking back out over the trees. She wasn’t sure how many more nights she could stand to spend out here waiting for him to get back. There was no telling when it might rain, but she prayed it wouldn’t.
The ground was soaked enough with all the recent storms. If it rained again, it would ruin their chances of finding him and possibly even cause her to slip and fall among the treacherous rocks and mud.
The End