Wild Is the Night (17 page)

His room was empty. The innkeeper provided her with the number, and although she pounded on the door, there was no answer. Her shoulders dropping, Amanda leaned against the wall, forcing herself to think. Luke was tired and angry. He’d eaten a full dinner, but drank very little. Her mind went back to that night on the prairie, when he’d finished half the tin of whiskey….

The saloon. Where else could he have gone? Relieved, she turned quickly, then started down the stairs, remembering the tinny sounds of the piano and the bawdy laughter that she’d heard ringing out in the street.

Thankfully, it was just three doors down. Breathless, Amanda stood outside for a second, forcing herself to relax. Trying to summon as much dignity as possible, she walked through the swinging doors and into the smoke-filled tavern.

The room was full to the brim with cowboys and ranch-hands, trail drivers and cattle hawkers. Ignoring the whistles and encouraging hoots directed her way, she stepped through the throng, her eyes scanning the crowd. Normally, she would have been entranced by the spectacle of the western bar, but tonight, her mind was on one man. When she glanced toward the bar, she smiled in relief. It had to be him. It was Luke’s broad back, his sparkling white shirt, his raven black hair. Even from across the room, she recognized him. He was laughing, then he turned toward her, obviously losing some of his anger in this congenial setting. Amanda started to wave to him, then her smile froze as a saloon girl wrapped her arm protectively through his, then whispered something in his ear.

Amanda felt the heat rushing to her face and her legs weakened. She hardly heard the calls from the cowboys, and the heated shouts from the men, too full of whiskey. The piano continued to play, but Amanda didn’t hear that, either. Slowly, she turned and left the saloon, returned to the boardinghouse and to her room. Perhaps it was just as well that she couldn’t explain herself to Luke. He wouldn’t have understood.

No one ever did.

Luke drank down the shot glass of whiskey neat, grateful that the raw liquor seemed to numb his shattered male ego and temper his burning anger. Amanda. She’d looked so damned beautiful tonight—did she have any idea of the way she’d treated him? From the time she put on the new dress—his dress—she seemed like a different woman. Gone was the naive bookworm who innocently quoted everyone from Shakespeare to Twain. In her stead was a seductress, who boldly invited men to her table and managed to charm everyone with a tinkling laugh or a dissertation on Darwin. Luke could have throttled her.

“What’s the matter, cowboy? You don’t look too happy to see me,” Susie whispered, wiggling against him, her body soft and full like a ripe golden pear.

Luke smiled. It was good to feel the unabashed admiration of a real woman. He glanced down at the saloon girl. Blonde and pretty, with ash-colored hair and sherry eyes, she gave him a flirtatious grin as she wrapped her hands around his waist.

“It’s not you,” Luke replied, allowing the girl to caress him. “I was thinking of someone else.”

“Well, whoever she is doesn’t make you happy. More the fool she. I think you’re right handsome, and I plan to spend the whole night making you real pleased.” She giggled, then rustled her scarlet skirts deliciously.

Luke stared at her, assessing her virtues. The girl really was attractive, and an obvious expert at her craft. There was no burning intelligence in her eyes, no cold dissection of his faults as if he meant no more than a professor’s frog, no casual dismissal of him as soon as another man arrived. In fact, she was looking at him with open admiration. Normally, he wouldn’t have given a saloon girl a second glance, but tonight, she was proving to be a balm to his wounded self image. He took another drink from the bar, downed the potent whiskey, then offered her a glass.

“Do you know Shakespeare?” he asked suddenly.

“Who’s she?” Susie’s nose wrinkled, perplexed. “Is that the new saloon girl? If she’s been trying to muscle in on my territory…”

Luke chuckled, throwing back his head in delighted, masculine laughter. “Perfect.” He picked up the whiskey bottle, then started for the stairs. “Are you coming?”

Susie nodded, then scampered from the bar toward the private rooms at the top of the staircase. Pausing to retrieve a key from inside her bodice, she carefully unlocked the door, then stepped inside and turned up the gas.

It was better than Luke had thought. Wichita had benefitted from the cattle trade in more ways than one, he mused, as he took off his jacket and placed it on the back of a rosewood chair. A fire crackled cheerfully in the grate, throwing ghosts against the walls and floor, while a bottle of good wine cooled in a silver bucket beside the nighttable. The bed was ample, a good sized mattress with a brass headboard, and the sheets were turned down invitingly.

“Now you just make yourself comfortable, honey.” Susie cooed. “And Susie will be right back.” She disappeared into the dressing room with a giggle, carrying a garment so flimsy it could scarcely be given the name.

Luke grinned, pouring another whiskey and then slowly began unbuttoning his shirt. The night unfolded outside like a beggar’s blanket and the wind howled, but here it was warm and secure. He had scarcely finished the third button when Susie reappeared, clad in the diaphanous nightgown, looking incredibly lovely. It was then he noticed that the garment was blue. Christ, why did it have to be blue?

“Here, let me do that.” Brushing his hands aside, she fumbled with the buttons, undoing them one at a time, and pressing sweet kisses to each bare inch of flesh she exposed. Luke’s fingers sank into her hair.

God, it felt good to be with a real woman again.

Very good.

Alone in her room, Amanda let Aesop out of his cage, grateful for his silence and wide, unblinking attention. Slowly, she struggled to loosen the beautiful gown, wanting nothing more than to strip away all vestiges of this evening. When she finally managed to undo all the buttons, she let the dress slip from her body, gently folded the garment, then placed it away inside her carpetbag.

Aesop watched her quizzically as Amanda straightened. Clad only in a light shift, she took a seat before the mirror, and began to pull out her hair pins. Tears began, and by the time she’d finished and her chestnut-colored hair was tumbling about her like a sable fall, she was crying, unable to stop the flow of emotions fighting inside of her.

She had done it again, and this time she hadn’t even realized it or meant to. Luke would probably never forgive her. Even if he did, there would always be this embarrassing memory between them. Why was she always so awkward, always saying and doing the wrong thing? Why was everything so effortless for other women, yet not for her. She could do calculus with little more effort than adding up a shopping list; she could remember everything she’d read, not just for days but years. She had a brilliant mind, yet when it came to the man she loved—

She froze. Aesop instinctively knew something was wrong, and hopped onto the dressing table to affectionately gnaw on her finger. Amanda scarcely noticed. A white-faced woman stared back from the mirror, numb with realization.

She was falling in love with Luke Parker.

And she didn’t have the faintest idea of what to do about it. Unable to think clearly without writing, she picked up her journal.

He is with another woman. I saw the way he looked at her, the way he slipped his arm around her, holding her, just the way he’s held me. Why does that make me miserable?

I have no claim on him, just as he doesn’t on me. We are traveling companions; he is a hired gun. He can take any woman he wants at any time I have no right to say anything, no right to complain.

But when I think of him, of them, of him smoothing her hair and telling her she’s pretty, of her sharing the feeling of belonging to him, even for those few short moments, I am overwhelmed with pain.

Tonight I had one magical night with him. He thought I was pretty; I saw that in his eyes. He bought me a dress, wanted to dine with me, dance with me. It was all going so well until I met those other men. I didn’t know he would get so angry. The truth is, it all went to my head, though I blush to think of it.

But now I feel terrible. Inside, I am empty and aching, hollow like the dried up trees we passed on the trail. If I never felt so happy before tonight, then I also never hurt so badly.

This is what it is to love.

Damned women!
Luke turned up the gas, throwing the room into an unromantic light, then began to search around for his clothes.

“Come on, honey, you don’t really mean to leave.” Susie sat up in bed, her pretty red lips pursed into a pout. “We have all night.”

“No thanks, I’d better be going.” Luke pulled on his pants, wanting nothing more than to be far away from this warm and elegant room. Frustration ate at him. In spite of Susie’s experience, her encouragement, her erotic ideas and clever hands, all he could think of was Amanda. Amanda looking lovely in the indigo dress. Amanda laughing with the men at the table. Amanda, who even now could be—

Clutching the sheet to her full breasts, Susie protested. “Just because you couldn’t…I mean, it happens all the time. You aren’t the first cowboy who couldn’t, didn’t—”

“I’d rather not discuss it, if you don’t mind.” Luke could feel his face getting hot. Christ, he was blushing like a schoolboy.

“But it’s not uncommon. I mean, if you got a little sleep, wore off some of that whiskey, I’m sure you could—”

“Susie, I appreciate it. Really. But you’re right—I am tired, and I’ve had too much to drink. I just want to go back to my room. Here.” He tossed her a roll of bills. “Keep the change.”

Susie tucked the money inside her top dresser drawer, then watched him as he tugged on his boots and pulled on a shirt. He seemed to attack the buttons, as if taking out his anger on them. She made one last attempt.

“Honey, you’ve already paid. Even if you just want to sleep here, I won’t hold it against you.”

Luke flinched. “That’s nice of you, but really, I’ve got to go.” He placed a chaste kiss on her forehead, then started toward the door. The last thing that caught his attention was the thin nightgown that Susie had tossed onto the floor.

Damn! Why did it have to be blue?

Chapter
  
11
  

Amanda felt the contrast between the rough muslin of the gown that she slipped over her head, compared with the luxuriant dress she’d worn the previous night. Gazing into the mirror, she was relieved and disappointed to see that the woman she had been was gone, and the old Amanda stared back from the looking glass. Her hair fell wildly about her face, tamed only when she pulled it back into a schoolmarmish bun, and her dowdy dress hid most of her slender figure, emphasizing only her face, her hollow cheeks with their high, square bones, and her swollen, blue-green eyes.

Pressing a cold cloth to her eyelids to relieve the redness, she thought of Luke last night with the saloon girl. It was an image she couldn’t wipe out, no matter how hard she tried. Pain welled up in her again, and she forced it down. She couldn’t accept what she thought she had felt last night. It was all wrong. It was the dress, the magic of the night, and her loneliness that made her think there was something more to this relationship. After all, Luke had spent the night with another woman….

Amanda removed the towel. The cold cloth had helped a little, so she repeated the process. By the time she had finished, there was no evidence that she’d spent the evening doing anything other than sleeping.