Magnificent Passage (31 page)

“Actually, I may have to go shopping instead.” She hated his look of triumph. She almost wished she'd suffered through the day rather than let him best her again.

“Uncle William's birthday is next week. I want to buy him something nice,” she finished lamely. The meal ended. The men headed for the study for brandy and cigars, and Mandy sighed with relief. Thank God that was over. Hawk was a tough man to get the better of; but still, she felt ahead of the game tonight.

She let Mark kiss her after the party for the first time, hoping it would arouse some feelings. It didn't. They were sitting in the carriage beneath a low-hanging sycamore in front of the mansion.

“Samantha, my dear, we could be so happy together.” Mark's blue eyes searched her face. “I hope you don't mind. I've spoken to your uncle. I know we've known each other only a short time, but I sense you may feel as I do. I hope that you . . . may come to love me.”

Mandy glanced away. Her conscience smarted sorely for the way she'd led Mark on tonight. Now to discover he had spoken to Uncle William only made matters worse.

“Mark, you know how fond I am of you, but . . . ”

“Please, Samantha, don't say any more. Just give it some thought. We could achieve great things together, you and I. My family and yours together could create a powerful alliance—to say nothing of the way I feel about you.”

“Mark, please.”

“Just say you'll think about it. That's all I ask.”

“Of course I'll think about it, Mark. I'm very flattered.” He kissed her again with great sincerity. His arm went around her, and he pulled her close, kissing her softly. She let him continue, hoping he would evoke some response. He smelled faintly of jasmine. She thought of musk and champagne—and the taste of masculine kisses far less delicate than these.

She broke away. “Mark, I think it's time I went in. I've had a wonderful time tonight,” she lied. “And thank you for . . . everything.” She followed him from the carriage and let him escort her to the door, wondering why his kisses only made her miss Hawk all the more.

Behind a corner of the hedge, Max Gutterman adjusted the patch over his eye and curled his lip in smug satisfaction.
“Knew I'd find you sooner or later, little lady,” he said to himself. “And my guess is, wherever you are, that big white Indian won't be far behind.” He brushed damp earth from the knees of his overalls as he rose from the ground. Just like Myra, pretty but treacherous, he thought. He'd taken care of Myra and her Injun half-breed. He'd taken care of plenty of those red devils after that, too. Those heathens figured they could kill old Sergeant Gutterman, but I showed 'em, he thought. The slight breeze picked up the low sound of his hoarse laughter and spread it harmlessly across the broad expanse of lawn. He watched as the dainty woman entered the house, and the tall, well-dressed gentleman returned to his carriage.

An image of himself slicing through the flesh of a squaw at Sand Creek flashed across his mind. The tobacco pouch he'd made of human skin rested in his shirt pocket.
I showed them red devils, and I'll show you, Myra. You and yer big Indian friend.

He smiled mirthlessly. Revenge would be sweet. Slipping off into the quiet of the night, he melded, as his laughter had, with the chilly evening breeze.

In her room, Mandy mulled over the events of the evening. Thinking of Hawk with Doreen, she wished again, for the hundredth time, she'd agreed to be his mistress. Instead, she'd forced him into the willing arms of the luscious widow. At least if she'd agreed to his proposal, the loneliness would be gone, and she wouldn't have to endure thoughts of him in another woman's bed.

She sighed. Sitting on the small fruitwood stool in front
of the bureau, she brushed her hair. As much as she might wish it, she knew she could never agree to such a degrading proposition. Sooner or later, her conscience would come between them.

She'd seen him at several parties lately. It seemed almost every unmarried female in the city had her cap set for him, yet he appeared uninterested. He spent a good deal of time with Doreen, but Mandy didn't think he'd made any proposal to the widow—yet.

At the Showalters' two weeks ago, he'd danced politely with Mandy, then rudely asked if she'd consented to be Denton's mistress instead of his. It had sent her into a twoday fury. She wished she could just forget about him, but Travis Langley appeared to be permanently engrained in her thoughts.

She plaited her hair into a single thick braid, thinking of Mark's proposal—so different from Hawk's. He was offering marriage, a family, children. It all sounded dreadful when she thought of Mark as the head of her household.

She slipped beneath the covers of her bed and pulled the blankets beneath her chin. A pair of dark eyes loomed in her imagination as she drifted into slumber.

Mandy awoke to a fresh week. Celebrations would soon mark the end of harvest. The first, on Saturday, was a gala masquerade ball. She and Mark were going as Romeo and Juliet. She hoped Hawk would be attending. She wanted to see the look on his face when he saw her with Mark, costumed as the lovers. Bessy had been working for weeks on her gown. It was made of the finest emerald green velvet,
the bodice cut square in front and exposing a good bit of her décolletage. The waistline was slightly elevated, as was the fashion of that day, and the skirt fell in soft folds to the floor. She would wear her hair in a snood of spun gold. Mark was wearing gold trunks and hose, a green brocaded satin tunic trimmed with yards of gold braid, and a broad-brimmed plumed hat.

The week flew by. Saturday arrived, and Mandy dressed carefully. Mark picked her up a little past the hour, just as they'd planned, and they headed for the ball.

Gala decorations, tinsel, and colored paper decorated the elegant ballroom. Mandy felt elegant as well. Hiding behind her sequined cat's-eye mask, she surveyed the partygoers: the Emperor Napoleon and Josephine, the outlaw Robin Hood and his Lady Marian, Friar Tuck, Humpty Dumpty, a scarecrow, several Spanish señoritas, and dozens of other famous and notorious figures were among the crowd.

When Mandy spotted a tall man across the room dressed as a buccaneer, her heart stopped. With an earring in his ear, tight-fitting black breeches, and a snowy white shirt cut open to the waist, he looked every bit the dashing pirate. The sight of him took her breath away. She buried the feeling as best she could and smiled broadly up at Mark, who suddenly appeared silly in his glittering gold hose.

Mandy and Mark danced for what seemed like hours. Mandy took great pains to avoid letting her gaze wander to the tall buccaneer, who more often than proper danced beside her. She didn't recognize the raven-haired woman dressed as a serving wench Hawk whirled around the floor, but she noticed how the woman's bosom heaved to near
overflowing in her tight-waisted dress. To Mandy's secret delight, Hawk paid the woman little heed, and the woman seemed sorely irritated at his lack of attention.

Instead, Hawk's steady scrutiny followed Romeo's Juliet, and Mandy felt her cheeks burning constantly, to say nothing of the frown on Mark's lean profile.

“Mark,” she finally said. “I think I need to rest a little.”

“Of course, darling.” They walked outside onto a broad, shrub-lined terrace.

“Let me get you a cup of punch.”

“Thank you, Mark. That would be nice.” She dabbed her kerchief against the perspiration on her forehead as she meandered around a corner of the terrace.

“Lost your Romeo, Miss Juliet?” the tall buccaneer asked with a mocking smile. He tugged distractedly at his gold earring and leaned nonchalantly against the wall.

“Hawk!” Mandy gasped. “You startled me. I . . . I didn't think anyone else was here.” She twisted her kerchief nervously, worrying Mark would return with the punch. Her eyes kept straying to the mat of sandy hair exposed beneath Hawk's open shirt.

Hawk directed his gaze to the ivory swells of Samantha Ashton's bosom, feeling more than a little distracted. “You make a beautiful Juliet,” he said softly, “though your Romeo looks more like a court jester.” He'd promised himself he'd act like a gentleman, yet couldn't resist a snide remark when it came to that sniveling fop, Denton. Why she preferred Denton's company to his he could not begin to fathom.

His gaze raked her boldly, then he felt the stirrings of arousal and turned away. Damn the woman! Would he
never get her out of his blood? He watched as she bristled defensively at his cutting remark and thought how the sparks in her eyes made her even more attractive.

“Damn you, Travis Langley!” Mandy heard herself say, cursing for the first time in her life. “Can't you ever say anything pleasant? Why must you badger me so?”

“I don't recall you finding me so unpleasant in Virginia City,” he said flatly, and she paled at his words.

“Excuse me,” she replied haughtily. “I think it's time I went inside.” Mandy tried to brush past, but he caught her arm. He pulled her close, holding her furious gaze with a steady dark one of his own. For a moment she thought he might kiss her, then his look became hooded.

“Is there nothing I can say to make you change your mind and accept my proposal?” he asked. “Denton's not the man for you.”

“I'd hardly call your lewd proposition a proposal, Mr. Langley. More a bawdy joke.”

“A joke!” He set his jaw, his dark eyes flashing with anger. “Damn you, Sam, for the little witch you are. What more do you expect from me? You've lied to me, deceived me. Have you ever told me the truth about anything?”

“It's not the way you think, Hawk.” She looked up at him, willing him to listen. “Almost everything I told you was true. I only lied about being Julia—and about Jason Michaels. I truly wish I'd never had to lie at all.”

He seemed to assess her words. “God, I wish I could believe that, Sam.” He released her arm just as Mark walked up with the punch.

“Your court jester has arrived,” Hawk taunted for her
ears alone. His gaze once more unreadable, he excused himself with a curt “Miss Ashton.”

“Was he bothering you?” Mark asked solicitously.

“What? Oh, no, Mark. He was just . . . complimenting us on our costumes.”

The night dragged on until Mark finally suggested they depart. Throughout the evening she'd caught glimpses of the big man, but he'd made no further moves in her direction. She was relieved the night was finally at an end.

As the carriage pulled away, Mark instructed his driver to stop by his home, explaining to Samantha he had a gift for her he'd forgotten to bring earlier. When they pulled up in front, he asked if she would care to go in for a sherry while he retrieved the gift. She politely declined.

A carriage rolled by. Mandy caught a glimpse of the raven-haired woman from the ball and knew exactly who was driving the coach.