Magnificent Passage (23 page)

He pulled her closer, surrounding her with his arms. She could feel his chest, his thighs pressed against her. She gasped as his strong hands began to roam over her, one cupping the swell of her breast, the other moving lower to caress the curve of her hip. She knew she had to stop him, but couldn't seem to find the strength. She felt his hand move more intimately over the material of her dress to grasp the
roundness of her bottom, pulling her even more firmly against him.

“Hawk, please,” she pleaded, tearing herself away. Her whispered words begged for understanding. “You don't know what you're doing to me.”

Waging a war with himself, Hawk held the girl a moment more, then released her, feeling a hungry ache in his loins. His gaze searched her green eyes for the truth of her words, but his mind recalled stories of the wild and reckless governor's daughter, rumored to have bedded half the dandies in Sacramento City. He pictured the sensuous curves of her body being caressed by another, and the thought turned his stomach to ice. His mind could not reconcile those stories with this woman, and yet it must be so. He cursed the day he ever made that promise to her father.

He watched her step back into the room and close the door. Turning the key in the lock, he spun on his heel, and headed for his room. The wound in his side was paining him, but the real pain lay in the area of his heart. It would be a long night. In Great Salt Lake, one he couldn't ease even with the solace of a bottle.

Mandy lay on her bed pondering her responses. She'd wanted Hawk tonight. If he hadn't stopped, she might have let him enter her room. Let him do with her as he wished—as she wished. But the memory of a woman named Wishana danced at the edge of her mind. Would it be another woman he dreamed of as he caressed her? She couldn't bear the thought. She wouldn't allow her body to betray her again.

H
aving just traveled over hundreds of miles of rugged terrain on horseback, Mandy thought she'd be able to handle just about anything. She hadn't counted on the Overland Stage. That first day, her tiny frame was crushed between the massive body of an overweight mule skinner in smelly leather jerkins and the bony shoulders of a gangly young journalist wearing spectacles and a striped suit three inches too short for him. James sat across from them, next to a raw-boned, plainly dressed woman looking to marry a silver miner in Virginia City, while Hawk joined the driver on the top of the coach.

Six impressively matched sorrels dashed at full gallop out of the city, only to be replaced at the first way station by a scruffy team of second-rate animals. James informed her it was standard procedure to use the best stock where they would do the most good—in front of the ticket office.

The coach itself, the famous Concorde, was a fiery red contraption of the latest design. Though it had a top-heavy appearance, it was actually a sturdy vehicle whose most ingenious feature was the suspension of the carriage on two thoroughbraces, three-inch thick leather strips that served as shock absorbers—or so the makers said. Mandy found herself jostled from side to side until she thought her bones
would crack. Her only consolation came when she discovered that as many as twenty-one people had been known to ride in one coach, counting the space on the top. Mandy felt cramped with just the five of them.

Sleeping arrangements were nonexistent. The coach never made more than the briefest of stops, just to change teams and provide a little food for its exhausted passengers. Sleeping was done sitting up.

The journey progressed uneventfully until about the halfway point, when the mule skinner was replaced by a tough-looking Spaniard wearing tight black pants trimmed with silver conchos up the sides and a short-waisted jacket. Two ivory-handled pistols hung low across his hips. Entering the coach, the man immediately took a seat next to Mandy, giving her an appreciative glance. He removed his colorful embroidered sombrero to reveal a thatch of wavy, black hair, and bowed slightly.

“Begging your pardon, señorita. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Emilio Enriquez. I am pleased to make your acquaintance.” He pronounced his name expansively with a clipped Spanish accent, drawing her hand to his lips in an exaggerated show of gallantry. She found the man slightly attractive, if you could overlook the feral gleam in his eye.

Supper found them at a low-roofed way station of adobe construction. It was obvious Shamus and Anabelle Dutton, a retired military man and his wife, ran the station with an iron hand, which made it one of the more pleasant stops the travelers had made. A tasty meal of tender chicken, some beans, and a bit of corn surprised everyone, and made Mandy feel like taking a breath of air after the meal.

Searching for Hawk or James, she decided they probably felt the same after being cooped up in the coach all day and went their separate ways. Giving it little further thought, she headed out the back door toward a small knoll overlooking the station.

Emilio Enriquez followed the woman with his eyes as he struck a match to the cheroot clamped tightly between his teeth. He took a long draw, the tip glowing orange in the darkness. With a slight smile, he started up the dusty path. His gaze rested on the gently swaying hips of the woman ahead of him. She stopped near the crest of a low hill.

“You enjoyed the meal, señorita?” he questioned, causing her to jump and turn at the sound of his voice.

“Señor Enriquez!” Mandy gasped at the unexpected presence. She glanced back toward the station. She'd drifted farther away than she intended.

“Yes, yes I did enjoy the meal,” she answered nervously. “It was a pleasant change from most we've had.” She could see the wolfish gleam in his black eyes even in the dim light. “I think I'd better be going back.” She glanced away. “They're probably getting ready to leave.”

“What's your hurry, señorita?” he cajoled, stepping in her path. His white teeth flashed in the moonlight, contrasting sharply with his smooth, olive skin. “One of the horses threw a shoe. They'll be a while longer. Why don't you stay and keep me company?” As he spoke he moved his hand to stroke the line of her jaw.

“I'd better be going,” she repeated, sensing danger.

“No, señorita. I think you will stay with me.” His mouth came down hard on hers, and she struggled against him.

He pushed her roughly against the sandstone outcropping.
She tried to scream, but his mouth silenced her. She felt his hand fumbling with the buttons of her traveling suit. Rough fingers brushed the swell of her breast. She panicked and struggled even harder.

Suddenly she was free, the movement so quick she lost her balance and stumbled against the rock, her skirts swirling in the dust. She heard men scuffling, the sound of a blow, then Hawk's husky voice.

“What do we have here?” he said, his voice laced with sarcasm. The Spaniard sprawled in the dust several feet away. “Your beloved Jason didn't show up, so you decided to fill your bed with anyone who happened to be handy. You don't care what kind of scum you lie with, do you?”

“Stop it!” Mandy pleaded, covering her ears with her hands to blot out the hateful words. “I didn't even know he was out here.”

The man on the ground hadn't moved. Hawk just stared at her, his jaws clenched, his hands balled into fists.

“How dare you say such things to me!” she fumed. “That man attacked me, and you suggest it was my idea!” Gathering her skirts, she tried to brush past him.

Hawk fought to control his temper, but the girl's pale skin gleamed through the open front of her traveling suit, fueling his jealous rage.

“You want another man to fill your bed?” he snarled. “Well, you better get one thing straight right now! No man—do you hear me? No man is going to bed you—unless it's me!”

He hauled her roughly against him. His lips covered hers, his mouth fierce in its possession. It was a kiss that branded her. Terrified her with the threat of it, yet made her
yearn for more. Brutally he tore himself free, then left in long, heated strides.

Mandy stood trembling, forced to trail behind him down the hill or stay behind with the unconscious Enriquez. Reluctantly she opted to follow, somewhat uncertain which man posed the greater threat.

T
he fragile truce that had existed between Hawk and Mandy was broken. The balance of the journey was made in hostile silence, though James came through with a little of his good-natured camaraderie.

Mandy had never been happier than she was that Friday afternoon when the coach crested a ridge revealing a city outlined in the distance, rising just above the desert at the base of a barren range of mountains.

Her first impression of Virginia City was that it fairly glittered. The heat of the day created a shimmering haze that cloaked the city even at a distance, making it appear vaguely mystical. Basking in the desert sun, the city sprawled across miles of sand and sagebrush, and elegant residences, as well as tents and shanties, were dug into the hillside.

Everyone in the West knew about the fabulous Comstock Lode. It had delivered unimaginable riches and created a city in the middle of a barren wasteland. When they pulled up in front of the stage depot, Mandy breathed a long sigh of relief to be at last free of the confining coach. She stretched her tired muscles, and turned to look at the town. There was only one way to describe Virginia City—it glittered. Silver decorated everything: silver coins, silver buckles, even silver-trimmed carriages pulled by high-stepping, perfectly
matched teams in gleaming silver livery. The buildings were immaculately cared for and palatially appointed.

“Let's get checked into the hotel and get cleaned up,” Hawk suggested. “Maybe we ought to turn in early and get a good night's sleep for a change.” He winked at James and the tall man smiled. Hawk was certain neither he nor James had intentions of doing much sleeping that night. Hawk planned to spend the night in the arms of a warm, willing woman—one whose faithfulness was expected and paid for—and he guessed James would probably be doing the same.

“A bath and some sleep sounds wonderful to me,” Mandy agreed, “but maybe we could go out for supper later? Virginia City looks so exciting.” She looked up at Hawk wistfully, hoping he had come to his senses about the incident with the Spaniard.

Hawk groaned inwardly. Well, there wouldn't be much happening until later anyway, he rationalized. Maybe he could take her to an early supper, then head over to Sally's Place after that.

“Let's see how we feel after a rest. We'll talk about it then.” He was stalling for time, trying to figure out how to keep the girl under control while he and James went out on the town.

Picking up their satchels, they headed toward the stately International Hotel. A row of freshly painted white columns held up the broad front porch, and they entered through carved mahogany doors. Oriental rugs covered inlaid wood floors; the walls were decorated with lovely paintings in the European tradition, and imported Italian
marble sconces lit the interior. A uniformed bellman showed them up the sweeping staircase to their rooms.

“I'm sure your father would insist we spare no expense in seeing to your needs,” Hawk commented dryly, opening the door to a beautifully appointed room.

“I'm certain he would,” Mandy replied in kind. At least she could enjoy the lovely room he'd rented for her, the most elegant she'd ever seen. She walked over to the canopied bed that dominated the room and longingly caressed the beautifully carved headboard. Her hand sank into the soft down of the feather mattress. She could hardly wait to get bathed and beneath the fluffy covers.

“I've taken the liberty of ordering your bath,” James informed her, “and of having a tray sent up. Think I'll take Hawk's advice and catch a nap myself.” His eyes sparkled with mischief, and she wondered what plans he had made.