Magnificent Passage (25 page)

She smiled at his compliment. “And if looks could kill, I'd have died a thousand deaths,” she responded, lowering her lashes. It galled her a little, the way women openly admired him. There wasn't a woman in the room who wouldn't gladly have traded her places.

Feeling suddenly playful, she giggled. “Can you imagine what they'd say if they knew I was traveling alone with you and James?” To herself she added: A gun-toting gambler and a white man dressed as an Indian. God, it really was shocking! At least if anyone found out, Julia would get the blame. She smiled at the thought.

“They'd probably say we were the luckiest two men west of the Mississippi,” he said softly.

“Hawk . . . this has been the most wonderful night of my life.” She lifted her champagne glass, which seemed always to be full, and smiled.

For the first time, Hawk noticed her dimple. Maybe he should make her smile more often. She giggled again, and suddenly he understood she'd had too much champagne.

She hiccupped. “Excuse me,” she said, spilling the champagne.

The whole scene brought to mind the newspaper article
he'd read about her near-nude scene in the fountain. His mood blackened.

“I should have known a spoiled little girl like you couldn't behave herself. You're going up to bed right now.”

“Hawk, please,” she pleaded. “What did I do to displease you?” But as she rose from the chair, the room spun.

He steadied her. The smell of violets drifted up from her shoulders, and he sighed in defeat. He longed to pull the pins from her thick hair and bury his face in the silky strands. He could feel desire for her begin to swell again. Damn her for the little witch she was! Gritting his teeth, he decided they'd better leave before it began to show.

“You just drank a little too much champagne. Come on, it's time for you to turn in, anyway.” In silence they reached the lobby, then moved up the stairs to her room.

“I had a wonderful time, Hawk.” Her gaze drifted up to meet his, then she turned away. A heady rush began again as they stood in the doorway.

Without giving himself time to think, Hawk covered her lips with his, gently at first, then more insistently. His tongue touched every part of her mouth. Her breath tasted warm and sweet. He kissed her cheeks, her neck; then his lips moved to her shoulders, smooth satin above the shimmering dress. He eased her into the room and closed the door behind them. Pulling her against him again, he kissed her deeply.

Mandy's senses reeled. His lips were warm and demanding. The champagne made her head spin; now his kisses were melting away any resistance she might have left. His lips teased the line of her neck, nibbled at her ear.

A raging desire swept through her, draining the last of her will. His mouth moved to the swell of her breast and her pulse quickened further. Her breath came in tiny ragged gasps.

Hawk knew in that moment he could have her. All thoughts of her lover had fled. Her breath felt hot against his neck. She was warm and pliant in his arms, and her passion was evident in the rapid flutter of her heart. She would make no move to stop him, and he wanted her as he never wanted another.

Visions of young dandies caressing her body just as he did scorched his soul. Why shouldn't he have her? There were others before him who had!
I give you my word, sir
. The promise twisted like a knife. He wanted to lash out at her, make her suffer as he did. Lifting his head from her breast, he paused, then smiled menacingly and stepped away from her.

“Don't you even have the decency to try and stop me? I'm sure your Jason would be very proud of you.”

Mandy's eyes filled with tears. She covered her ears with her hands.

“Please don't, Hawk,” she pleaded, her voice barely a whisper, “you don't understand.”

“I wish he were here to see you now, wrapped in another man's arms,” he taunted. “Did you kiss him the way you kiss me?”

With no regard for the consequences, Mandy drew back her hand, determined to slap the insolent smile from his face. Anything to stop the hurting remarks. Hawk caught her arm midway, restraining her easily. He stood motionless.

Suddenly he released her. She held his gaze for only a
moment. Had she glimpsed a flicker of regret? She whirled and ran sobbing to the bed. She heard the door slam as he left the room.

Hawk turned the key in the lock, clenched his teeth, and stormed down the hall.

Mandy dissolved in tears. He was right. Why hadn't she tried to stop him? He could have taken her tonight. She would have let him. Oh God, what was wrong with her? She'd practically begged Hawk to take her to bed. No wonder he treated her with disdain. She deserved it.

Undressing, she set aside the lovely gown and lay down in her chemise. Tonight had been the most wonderful night of her life. How could she have let it end so miserably?

Please, Lord, let this nightmare end.

Tomorrow they would leave by stage for Reno, then board the train for Sacramento City. By tomorrow night it would all be over. She wondered, not for the first time, if it would ever be over for her. Pulling up the quilt, and counting the ticks of the cherry-wood clock, she drifted into a fitful sleep.

H
awk made his way out through the carved mahogany doors and into the night. The fresh air felt good against his skin, cooling his temper but not his appetites. He shrugged off his jacket, removed his tie, and unbuttoned his collar. Once again he'd done and said things he regretted. He clenched his jaw and strode toward Sally's Place, the most infamous whorehouse in Virginia City.

His mind replayed the scene at the hotel. He hated the little wench for the way she made him feel. She was toying with him just as she was with the young lieutenant, so why was he having such a hard time convincing himself?

He shoved open the swinging doors with a little too much effort, and they slapped loudly behind him. The dimly lit interior was smoky and noisy. The red velvet walls and plush settees attempted to set the mood for its boisterous clientele. Hawk headed straight for the long, carved oak bar.

“Double whiskey,” he ordered, scowling. He could already hear Sally's familiar laughter across the room. She spotted him almost immediately, ran to him, and threw her arms around his neck in a warm embrace.

“I heard you were in town,” she said, her dark eyes
sparkling. “I wondered how long you'd keep me waiting.” Her husky voice sounded a little breathless.

Hawk's gaze took in the swell of her breasts and the curve of her hips. Sally Ginelli was not the first owner of the house, but she was the prettiest. In fact she looked much too young to run twenty girls and one of the wildest saloons in the West. But Sally was an exceptional woman.

The two had known each other for years, since before the place had been Sally's. Now Sally could afford to take to her bed only men friends she enjoyed.

Sally Ginelli sized up the tall, well-dressed man leaning against the bar. She'd rarely seen him in anything but buckskins—unless it was nothing at all—so the handsome figure he cut tonight set her blood to boiling. Of course he always had that affect on her.

She took another look at him. He'd been away too long this time. She could feel herself moisten just thinking about his muscular body thrusting into her. Her arms still circling his thick neck, she pulled his head down and covered his mouth with a hot, damp kiss.

For weeks Hawk had thought he wanted nothing more than to make love to Sally Ginelli. One night in her soft, yielding arms, he reasoned, and he would be rid of his yearning for the tiny, chestnut-haired girl he'd left across the street. Now, as he kissed the raven-haired woman, he noticed for the first time how thin her lips were and thought of another pair, full and yielding beneath his mouth.

“Let's go,” he ordered gruffly, grabbing Sally's hand. He pulled her across the room and half carried, half dragged her up the stairs to her suite at the end of the hall.

“Get undressed,” he grumbled, muttering to himself
and pouring himself another whiskey from the crystal decanter on the black lacquer bar. The room was tastefully decorated—surprisingly so, considering the rest of the brothel. Fascinated by the Far East, Sally filled her suite with oriental tapestries, vases, and beautifully carved teak furniture.

Hawk tossed back the whiskey, poured himself another, threw it down, and quickly shed his clothes. He strode into the bedroom, his mouth set as if this were a task instead of the pleasure he'd envisioned.

Sally stood in front of a carved cinnabar mirror, clad in a skimpy lace chemise. Taking in her appearance with a sweeping glance, he pulled her into his arms. “I said get undressed,” he whispered harshly. He grabbed a handful of her chemise and ripped it away, leaving her naked and trembling with desire. The glazed look in her black eyes told him she was enjoying his roughness. She had far too many men whimpering after her and enjoyed an occasional tussle with one not quite so gentle.

Hawk dragged the black-haired beauty down onto the soft mattress. He could feel her ample breasts spilling almost eagerly into his hands. He grasped them and, expecting to feel their firm roundness, felt only slack pleasantness. Pulling her closer, he pressed his lips to her thinner ones and reached around behind to cup a round, firm buttock. Instead he felt the same slack flesh as before.

In the inner recesses of his mind, he knew Sally felt no different than she ever had. Her skin was soft and yielding. Her kisses moist and warm. Why, then, did she not excite him? His mind kept filling with visions of firm, upturned breasts, rose-colored nipples, a smooth ivory bottom—and
miles of chestnut hair. As he caressed Sally's heavy breasts, he battled the images in his mind.

At last, feeling his manhood soften, he knew he'd lost. With a muttered curse, he pushed the disappointed girl away from him and rose from the bed.

“Did I do something wrong, honey?” she asked, her voice husky with passion.

“It's not your fault. I've got other things on my mind, that's all. I'll be back soon,” he lied. Odds were he'd put this place behind him for good. He left the room and dressed quickly, then headed downstairs and out the swinging doors. There were a lot of bars in Virginia City, and he planned to hit them all.

“Another whiskey, bartender, and keep it coming,” Hawk demanded for the tenth time. For three hours he'd done nothing but drink. Now the room was beginning to spin. He guessed he was probably drunk enough to sleep. Rising from the stool, he paid his bill and staggered from the bar. The cool air outside the Bucket of Blood roused him a little as he headed for the hotel.

Once upstairs, he brushed the wall several times on his way down the hall, then groped through his pockets for the key. He pulled it out and unlocked the door.