“The kettle you put on the stove,” Faith whispered. “It’s boiling.”
“So am I,” Reese whispered back, although Joy’s intrusion had cooled his ardor considerably.
Faith straightened her dress and patted several strands of hair back into place. She walked to Joy and took her by the hand. “Let’s go rescue the singing kettle.” She turned back and looked at Reese. “Are you coming?”
Reese muttered an obscenity and ground his teeth together at her poor choice of words.
Chapter Thirteen
He had watched her all evening, his dark eyes following her every movement, every gesture, like a predator about to pounce on his prey. Faith had been so nervous, she could hardly swallow the bites of the food the chef at the Madison Hotel had packed for them. She blushed each time she looked up from her plate and felt his eyes on her. He undressed her with those eyes, and she knew that if Joy hadn’t been sitting beside them, filling the heated silence with her childish chatter, his hands would have completed the task his eyes had begun.
Her body heated at the thought. She was filled with conflicting emotions?tension, anticipation, and fear. Fear not of Reese, but of the unknown. After tonight there would be no turning back, no escaping her fate. She had bargained with the devil, and it was time to give him his due.
She closed the door to the pink bedroom. Joy slept soundly, curled up on her side, her dolls close by. She would sleep until morning. Faith could not procrastinate any longer.
She glanced around the main room. Reese had been seated in front of the wood stove, sipping a glass of brandy when she left to put Joy to bed. But now the room was empty. He was gone. She wondered if he was curled up in bed waiting for her.
Faith took a deep breath to steady her nerves. A glass of white wine sat on the table beside his empty brandy snifter. She picked it up and drained the contents in three swallows. She put the empty glass back on the table, then walked around the room, methodically extinguishing the lamps on her way to the bedroom.
Reese sat outside on the tiny rear porch of the railroad car, one booted foot propped against the rail. The night air was crisp and cold, but the sky was clear. He studied the constellations, searching his brain for the English and Cherokee names. The tip of his thin cigar glowed bright red in the dark as he inhaled the soothing taste of tobacco, then exhaled, blowing smoke rings in the dark. He listened to the rhythmic clacking of the train against the tracks and watched the shower of cinders sparkle in the night before they cooled to ash and dissipated on the wind. He tried to count the minutes. He was killing time, waiting until he could go back inside the car. He thought he heard the splash of water. His bride must be bathing. He pulled the lapels of his heavy wool, coat a little tighter against the biting chill. His mind conjured up the image of Faith Collins in the bath, slick and wet and warm… He shifted uncomfortably to accommodate the predictable hardening in his groin. He’d give her five more minutes.
The five minutes expired. Reese made his way inside the car. His booted toe kicked a table leg and his knee bumped the sharp corner. “Ouch, dammit!” He squinted into the darkness, trying to make out the shapes of the furniture. Outside, there had been some moonlight. In here, it was black as pitch. Why the hell hadn’t she left on a lamp? “Shit!” His unprotected hip f
ound the back of one of the wing chairs.
The sound of the bedroom door banging against the wall woke Faith. She sat up, instantly alert. Reese Jordan stood beside the bed. “Shh!” she warned.
“Shh, hell!” Reese grumbled, lowering his voice. “I cracked my knee, not to mention my hipbone. Why didn’t you leave a lamp burning?”
“It’s dark,” she said with irrefutable logic.
“I know it’s dark. That’s why you should have left a lamp on. I can’t see the damn furniture in the dark.” Reese wrenched off his coat and tossed it in the direction of a chair. He sat down.
The side of the bed dipped beneath his weight. Faith grabbed at the other side to keep from rolling against him. “There’s no need to be offensive,” she told him, primly. “I was on my way to bed. Why should I leave a lamp on? I didn’t know where you were.”
“You knew I’d be coming to bed,” he accused.
“I knew no such thing!” Faith lied. “You were gone when I came out of Joy’s room.”
“I was outside freezing my ass off,” he informed her as he yanked off his boots and let them fall to the floor. “Giving you time to do…whatever. I was acting like a gentleman. The least you could have done was leave a light on.”
“But I always blow the lamps out,” she protested. “I never leave them on.” It was all she could think to say when she felt the slight stir of cool air, the whisper of fabric as he pulled off... Good Lord, he was taking off his clothes!
“Did Champ blow the lamps out?” The bed righted itself as Reese stood up to remove his pants.
“What?”
“I asked if your sainted husband blew the lamps out before he came to your bed.”
Faith thought for a second. “Well, of course, he did! He wouldn’t have been much of a gentleman if he hadn’t.”
Reese brushed the surface of the bedside table with his hand, searching for something.
Faith heard the scratching sound, a second before she smelled the unmistakable odor of sulfur.
“You can’t…” She struggled to sit up, the covers clutched to her chest. She squeezed her eyes shut.
“There is a hell of a lot to be said for not being a gentleman.” Reese replaced the globe on the lamp and turned up the wick.