Rose (28 page)

“I ‘spect, then, everythin’s pretty well settled in your mind?” Zach asked, tossing back the whiskey and wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

Kase glanced at Rose before he answered. “A lot of things.”

“Glad to hear it,” Zach said, his attention drawn to Flossie, who stood long enough to yell “Drinks on the house!” before she sank none too gracefully back into her chair and nearly tipped over backward. Zach bit his cheeks to hide his smile.

Kase turned to his mentor and friend once more. “Zach, I left Sinbad in front of the café. Do you think—”

Without waiting for Kase to finish his request, Zach got to his feet. “I’ll take care of him,” he said. Within moments he left the saloon.

Kase drained his second glass of wine and noticed Rose had already done the same. Knowing how the least bit of alcohol affected him, he decided he’d had enough, but he refilled Rose’s glass again. They sat in silence for a time as she sipped her wine. Then he leaned close and whispered, “We need to talk. Alone.”

“We can go to the restaurant. You are hungry?” Mentally she went over the list of foodstuffs she had on hand and what she could cook for him should he require dinner.

He shook his head. “No, after the cake and wine, I’m not that hungry.”

He thought of her cold, dark kitchen with its austere narrow cot. The place might still hold too many memories of her husband. They definitely could not go to the restaurant.

As if she sensed his hesitation, Rose whispered, “We can go to your room. Is all right?”

Quickly he took in the crowd and noticed with relief that all the girls were still in the saloon. Flossie sagged forward with her nose on the table, alternately hiccuping and sipping from the watered-down whiskey in her glass. Kase suspected that Paddie had taken to lightening her drinks for the last hour or so, but the measure seemed to have come too late to stave off the effects of the alcohol. No one was paying them any mind, and there would be no one at the Hospitality Parlor to see them enter. He would make damn sure no one saw Rose leave.

“Let’s go, then.” He let go of her hand and stood, then stepped aside to let her precede him. As an afterthought, Kase reached back and grabbed the wine. Just before they passed through the swinging doors, he stopped her. “Do you have a coat?”

“
Sì
. In the café.” It had been warmer when she walked over, the wind not yet whipped to a frenzy.

He slipped out of his thick jacket and draped it across her shoulders, then drew it tight, bunching the heavy wool in his hands. Using the grip he held on the coat, he pulled her close and bent forward, intent upon kissing her. A loud guffaw from the back of the room instantly reminded Kase of where they were. He straightened and turned her to face the doors.

With one hand riding at the small of her back, he led her outside.

Rosa shivered in anticipation as much as from the cold blast of air that whipped some of the pins from her hair. The heavy mass began to slide even farther off the crown of her head.

“The wind!” she groaned aloud without thinking.

His blood was running so hot that he could not feel the effects of the chilling wind. In one fluid movement, he scooped her up into his arms and held her against his chest until they reached the building next door. Handing her the bottle, Kase shifted her weight and turned the knob with his free hand. Kicking the door closed behind him, he crossed the parlor, passed through a doorway hung with swagged red velvet drapes dripping with tassels, and mounted the stairs to the second floor.

Rosa clung, wordless, with her arms about his neck. All of her senses were attuned to him. She heard the soft tread of his boots on the carpet runner, felt him shift his weight for balance as he reached the top of the stairs, and smelled wood smoke mingled with the scent of sage upon his skin. She held on tighter.

Kase quickly made his way along the dimly lit hallway and wondered if the woman in his arms, was as totally absorbed in him as he was in her.

He carried her down the hall past evenly spaced doors that lined the hallway. Each one sported a small sign embellished with gilded scrollwork that spelled out the name of the girl who occupied the room. When they reached a door marked Private, Kase halted and fumbled in his pocket for a key.

“You can put me down,” she said, her voice wavering.

“Not on your life.” The key slipped into his fingers and then just as easily slid into the lock. Once more Kase kicked a door closed behind them, but this time he turned and locked it. Only then, cloaked in darkness, did he set Rosa on her feet.

It was pitch black in the room. Rosa stood still and listened to the sounds he made as he lit a lamp. The flame flared, and as Kase replaced the red glass globe, the room was bathed in a muted rose glow. Crystal teardrops hung from the globe and chimed together with a soft tinkling sound as he reached beneath them to turn the knob that raised the lamp wick.

As Rosa stood in the center of the room, still clutching his coat and the wine, Kase took off his hat and hung it on the bedpost. Unbuckling his gun belt, he slung it across the back of a chair near the door, then turned to see how Rosa fared. She was looking around in awe, her gaze taking in every facet of his room. He had always found it cheap and gaudy. Living in a whorehouse did have its drawbacks.

“Flossie decorated it,” he said in explanation.

Rosa stared around the room. It was more elaborate than any place she had ever seen. Crystal teardrops dangled from every lamp globe. A fringed paisley shawl was draped over the top of his bureau; another was swagged from the dressing screen in the corner. Thick tasseled curtains of crimson velvet hung over the windows. She did not have to look down to be aware of the equally plush carpet beneath her feet. Ornate flocked wall covering, in the same pattern that adorned the parlor downstairs, was repeated in the room.

When she finally allowed herself a glance at the tall bed near the windows, Rosa could not help but stare. It was covered with a spread of ruby satin that was trimmed with a darker burgundy lace. A dozen pillows, also swathed in satin and lace, were piled against the carved headboard.

“Listen, I know it’s pretty awful. I—We can go to your place ...”

She turned to him again. “It is beautiful.”

If her tone had not been oner of undisguised wonder, he might have laughed. Instead, he considered the room from her point of view—that of a young woman from a small village somewhere in Italy. Perhaps to her the room
was
beautiful. He had never thought of the place as anything but brassy and overwhelming. But tonight, with Rose standing as innocent as a Madonna in the middle of it all, the room did take on a certain luster he had never noticed before.

An awkward moment stretched between them until, driven by the lack of any better idea of where to begin, he crossed the room and took the wine from her, set it on a bedside table, and then pulled her toward him.

She continued to clutch the jacket closed. Gently he eased it from her shoulders and tossed it on the chair.

“Still cold?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“I want to tell you where I’ve been, to explain ...” He felt awkward, tongue-tied in a way he had never been with a woman.

Lulled by the wine, her senses attuned to the man standing tall and proud before her, Rosa realized Kase was about to open his heart to her. Wherever he had gone, whatever he had experienced, had changed him. She could see that much in his eyes.

“Make love to me,” she said.

He wondered if she knew what she was doing to him. He clasped her to him, held her so close he thought he would the from the need that surged through him, hardening him more than he had already hardened, making him ache to take her without preamble.

“Are you sure, Rose?” He held her face between his palms and searched her eyes.

“Yes. I am sure.”

“There are things you haven’t considered. Things you still don’t know.”

“There is no need. I know my heart.”

“Rose, I want you more than you’ll ever know.”

“Show me.”

“But—”

Stubbornly she pulled away. “Then I will go.”

He knew he should let her walk away. His newfound peace of mind was all too fresh, too fragile to gamble against Rose’s trust. What if he was not able to keep his temper at bay? Besides, the fact remained that he was still a half-breed. Kase told himself that for her own good he should let her go, even if she went in anger. He held himself back and watched her cross the room, determined not to call her back. But when she paused at the door and turned to him with tears in her eyes, his heart melted and he was lost.

“Aw, Rose.” In two strides he crossed the room and swept her back into his arms.

He covered her lips with his. Unwilling to wait to invade some part of her, Kase thrust his tongue into her mouth, where it met and sparred against her own. When Rose moaned low in her throat and clung to him, he knew a feeling of release. Everything suddenly seemed right with himself and the world. For tonight, with his Rose in his arms, Kase Storm had finally found a place where he belonged.

Slowly, the kiss ended, but the maddening longing lingered. He reached up and imprisoned her face between his hands again.

“I have no flowers,” he whispered. “And I have not met your family, but if it’s what you want, I intend to make love to you, Rose Audi. And I intend to do it tonight.”

He pulled out what remained of the pins in her hair and carelessly tossed them aside, then ran his splayed fingers through the long, silken length of the rippling midnight skeins until it fell around her hips.

“I love your hair,” he whispered against her ear as he continued to gently finger-comb handfuls and watch it fall back into place.

All her notions of cutting it fled.

He reached for the top button on her jacket and she held her breath. As he worked it free, he said softly, “You do what I do.”

She reached for the button that held his shirt collar closed. When his collar was free of the shirt, she dropped it to the floor, just as he had her pins.

He unfastened the row of buttons along the bodice of her two-piece dress.

She unfastened his shirtfront.

When he drew her blouse open and began to slip it from her shoulders, she suddenly looked up, her expression one of bewilderment.

“You are not going to put out the light?” she asked.

“No,” he said. “I’m not.”

“No?” Her eyes widened in astonishment.

Kase shook his head. “No,” he whispered.

Her jacket fell to the floor with a hush of sound when he slid it off her shoulders. Her skin was bathed in the luminous roseate glow, her camisole stained pink inthe pastel light.

Suddenly embarrassed, Rosa felt exposed, as indeed she was, to his raw gaze. Kase took full advantage of that exposure. She did not know how to react; Giovanni never had suggested that she undress before him. She had always changed first and then climbed into bed, well hidden from neck to ankle by one of her voluminous white nightgowns. Their lovemaking, an awkward, fumbling affair carried on beneath blankets and nightclothes, had always taken place in the dark.

Somehow she knew instinctively that tonight would be different. Still, she wished Kase would take her in his arms rather than leave her standing so vulnerably exposed. She peered up at him from beneath lowered lashes and found him smiling his tantalizing half-smile. Her embarrassment forgotten, she knew then that she would do anything he asked.

His warm breath grazed her cheek as he bent to whisper in her ear. “It’s your turn now.”

Rosa stared at his unbuttoned shirtfront and the inviting slash of dark, satin-smooth skin that showed behind the gaping linen. Entranced by the mystery of all that was not yet exposed to her view, she gathered her courage and reached out impulsively, grabbed the sides of his shirt, and yanked the linen out of his waistband.

His smile widened.

Inspired by his reaction to her forwardness, Rosa stretched upward and tried to push the shirt off of his shoulders. He helped by shrugging himself free. The shirt fell to the floor.