Golden Chances (Borrowed Brides 1)

“Sure thing, Mr. Alexander. I’ll pour you a cup soon as you come outta there.”

“What about her?” David asked.

“Prisoners get two—”

“I know.” David muttered an obscenity beneath his breath. Damn bureaucracy. The deputy followed the rules to the letter. David exhaled slowly and pulled out his pocket watch, counting the seconds in an effort to control his mounting frustration. The sun hadn’t even risen. Didn’t these people realize that with a little cooperation they could all go back to bed until it did? He looked at his client. Though her features were delicate, her jaw was set stubbornly. Her deliberate silence puzzled him, yet something about her made him want to help. To take her small hand in his protective grasp. Something he couldn’t quite identify. And then, there was the boy…

“Are you Tessa O’Roarke?” David asked, using the surname he’d gleaned from the deputy. Her name sounded Irish and so did her brogue.

Tessa raised her head. “It’s Roarke. Not O’Roarke. Tessa Roarke.”

Tessa looked him over. Tall, broad-shouldered, and well muscled, he dwarfed the cell. He was handsome; there was no doubt about that. But his type of good looks differed from the rugged handsomeness of her brother. His skin was copper-tinted, smooth-shaven. His eyes were dark, his features more refined. Tessa took a deep breath. The scent of him filled her nostrils, surrounding her senses. Clean.

Unlike Arnie Mason. So unlike the sour metallic scent surrounding Arnie Mason. Tessa turned her gaze back to his face. He blinked. Arnie hadn’t blinked. His blue eyes had stared sightlessly while the dark blood ran in rivulets from his throat onto her dingy white sheets and her dress. Her blue dress.

Tessa glanced down. “Sweet Mary!” His blood stained her dress. Shocked anew, she bolted up

from her seat. David’s sheepskin jacket slid to the floor.

He stepped forward.

“Look at me.” She tugged at the fastening of her costume. “Sweet Mary, look at me.” Her gaze darted from her dress to David’s face. “No, don’t! Turn your back!”

Standing there, facing her, David refused to obey. He watched as she reached behind her and began to yank at the opening of her gown.

Tessa Roarke unbuttoned as far as she could reach, then turned and presented her back to him. “Please, help me. I can’t stand to—”

“Bring a blanket,” David shouted to Deputy Harris.

“Only one bla—”

“Forget the damned rules, Harris. Just bring another blanket!” David barked out the words before turning his attention to the small cloth buttons on Tessa’s dress. He moved a couple of steps closer.

She moved with him, the top of her head bumping his chin. David backed away.

“The deputy is bringing another blanket.” He raised his voice loud enough for the words to carry back to the deputy. “A clean one. And some warm water.”

Tessa nodded.

David stared at the locks of heavy red hair that had escaped her bun and hung down her back. His fingers itched to touch it.

He forced himself to return to the task at hand.

David moved aside the thick mass of hair to undo the tiny satin-covered buttons on her gaudy costume. It was a first for David. He’d never undressed a client before. But he’d never represented a woman before, or rushed to a jail to save one. He had her dress half unbuttoned before he realized she wasn’t wearing a corset. The dress was cut too low and too close to her body to accommodate one. He felt the chill of her skin as he opened her dress, smelled the cheap flowery perfume used by the women at the Satin Slipper. But it didn’t smell cheap on Tessa. It was light, floral, intoxicating. David shook his head as if to clear it as Deputy Harris arrived with a fresh blanket. He could feel himself going through the motions, knew he was awake, yet everything still seemed unreal. Like a dream.

He finished unbuttoning her gown, then handed her the blanket as she slipped it off, along with her stockings. “Comfortable?” David asked.

“Not very.” She sat huddled on the cot, the blanket wrapped around her. Beneath it her underclothes clung to her skin, but Tessa kept them on. Removing her dress with him there had probably been bad enough; removing her undergarments would surely be unthinkable. She hoped the night wouldn’t hold too many more humiliations. “But I’d rather wear this”— she lifted a corner of the blanket—“than those.” She nodded toward the blue dress and the black net stockings.

David shoved the discarded clothes through the bars, and Deputy Harris quickly removed them. Minutes later the deputy brought two mugs of steaming hot coffee along with the water without being asked a second time. He even threw a few more scuttles of coal into the stove, but the heat barely penetrated the cold of the hallway and the cell.

David grinned as he watched Tessa Roarke sipping her coffee. It was remarkable how quickly rules, even city council rules, could be broken, to soothe a distraught woman. He studied her as he sat across from her in a straight-backed wooden chair. She appeared calm.

David cradled his own cup of coffee in an effort to warm his hands. “Can you tell me what happened?”

Tessa fixed her gaze on him. “I could.”

“Well?” David waited.