Midnight Star (Star Quartet 2)

His voice was mocking, but she didn’t respond, only said quietly, “I should like to see how it is done.”

“Perhaps, if you ever decide to visit again, you will see all the fascinating shafts and galleries, even the gold washings on the Yuba River. Shall I continue about the wooden channels?”

“No, I cannot picture your words in my mind.”

“But I’ve begun to believe you very inventive, my dear, particularly in bed. I vow that with more intense practice, you could rival even Marie.”

She flinched, and did not reply.

Marysville did boast a number of shops, stores, and countless gaming saloons. Chauncey walked beside Delaney down the main street of the town, careful to keep the hem of her gown out of the wide mud puddles. It was warm and she soon felt a trickle of sweat between her breasts. She was constantly aware of men stopping to stare at her, open admiration in their eyes. She found herself wondering if it was all worth it, the frantic search for gold, living in such primitive conditions, without the comfort of a family.

“We will stay here tonight,” she heard Delaney say.

The Golden Goose was a two-story hotel that appeared to have just been built. It looked raw and unfinished. A very old man stood behind the narrow counter. Too old to search for gold, Chauncey thought. He kept rubbing his lower back.

Their small room was on the second floor and overlooked the main street. There were a narrow bed, a basin on an old commode, and a doorless armoire against one wall. Delaney would have to sleep with her tonight, she thought, and wondered what she would do.

He was wondering the same thing. He needed a good night’s sleep, but knew at the same time that it would be misery to lie beside her and not take her in his arms. He cursed softly under his breath. He saw her stare at him, her expressive eyes showing uncertainty and bewilderment at his unexpected spate of foul language. There were many things he had to do, but he wasn’t quite so cruel as to force her to remain in their room the rest of the day.

“Change into something more appropriate, my dear,” he said finally, “and we will see the town and buy supplies.”

There was no screen, nothing. Chauncey said quietly to Delaney’s back, “I need your help with my buttons.”

He ground out his cheroot and turned from the window. “Not much of a frontie

r wife, are you? Helpless without a servant to take care of you.”

“With the new clothes I bought, I’ll not need a servant, shall I?”

He felt like a fool, drawing her and baiting her. He frowned at her back as he fiddled with the tiny buttons. He wanted her to fight back, not respond to him with such damned reasonableness, as if she didn’t even care.

“I see you still aren’t wearing a corset.”

“No,” she said, trembling slightly at the touch of his fingers against her bare back.

“Perhaps you should consider it. It improves a woman’s figure immensely.” Damned liar! You can span her waist with your hands!

“Surely you would not wish me to wear one now?” she asked, wondering how her voice could sound so very calm and self-assured. “We will be traveling by horseback and camping in the open, won’t we?”

“Yes,” he said, forcing his eyes away from the nape of her neck. “It will be an experience for you, the perfect little lady from England trekking about in the wilderness. Tell me, do you think you can even light a fire outdoors?”

She shoved the gown from her shoulders and let it fall to the floor at her feet. Did she hear him suck in his breath? “You must know the answer to that,” she said, bending down to pick up her gown. She straightened and turned to face him, clutching her discarded gown over her breasts. “You must also know that I can learn, and I will. I won’t delay you, Delaney, or be a burden.”

Why was she hiding her body from him? he wondered perversely. He said aloud, wanting to get a rise from her, “Really, my dear wife, such modesty. Isn’t it a bit late for this maidenly display?”

She looked at him for a long moment, and came to a decision. Slowly she lowered the gown and tossed it to the back of the lone chair. She pulled the straps of her chemise from her shoulders and felt the soft satin glide down to her waist.

Delaney stared at her breasts; he couldn’t help himself. His body responded, and he whispered softly, “Damn you, Chauncey.”

“Is ten ounces of gold too little to ask?” She stared at him straightly, drawing back her shoulders so that her breasts thrust toward him. “Should I perhaps ask more?”

He turned on his heel and strode to the door of their room. He said over his shoulder, not looking at her, “I’ll be back soon. Go to bed.” He slammed out.

He returned late that afternoon, telling her shortly that he’d seen to buying the necessary supplies. He took her to the Colleen Restaurant, owned, he told her, by two Irishmen. After a silent meal of delicious beef stew, he took her back to the hotel and left her at the door of their room.

She slipped between the cold sheets and felt her body slide toward the middle of the lumpy mattress. She couldn’t seem to find a prayer that covered all the problems she faced, and settled for a “Please, God, please make everything all right.”

She heard Delaney come into the room a good hour later. He moved about quietly, but she heard the sound of his boots dropping to the wooden floor. She said nothing, pretending sleep.