Angel led her into a surprisingly opulent bedchamber. A painting of naked cupids hung on one wall, while crystal wall sconces illuminated a huge bed covered with red brocade and strewn with satin pillows. Selena was accountably relieved not to find Kyle there.
Keeping her eyes averted from the painting, she stood awkwardly just inside the door, watching instead as Angel went to a cabinet and withdrew a decanter and two glasses.
“Sit down. We gotta have us a talk.” Angel pointed to what seemed to be a small dining table at one side of the room. “You want some peach brandy?”
Selena declined politely as, reluctantly, she seated herself in one of the straight-backed chairs. Angel settled in another and poured herself a large measure of the brandy before beginning.
“I know just what you’re thinkin’ about Kyle bein’ here and all, but you’re off the mark. I didn’t aim to steal your husband. Just wanted to borrow him for a bit.”
“Indeed.” It was a ladylike word, infused with a certain amount of hauteur and accompanied by a delicately raised eyebrow. Hearing it, the redhead grinned.
“Now, I told you, it ain’t what you’re thinkin’. The thing is, my bruiser got his cork drawn the other day—got knocked clean out with a bottle a whiskey. Waste o’ good whiskey if you ask me, but it busted his skull. He can’t even remember his name, let alone how to use his fives.”
“What,” Selena said faintly, “is a bruiser?”
Angel stared at her. “Lord, you are a babe, ain’t you? Still wet behind the ears. A bruiser,” she explained patiently, “is a fella who keeps the peace in gamblin’ dens and…er, places like I run. He makes sure the paying customers stay settled down and the broke customers stay out. I got a cousin in Nashville, and I sent for him to come help me out, but till he gets here, I needed a man around the place. That’s why Kyle’s here. Kyle and me, we’re friends… from way back.”
Selena didn’t want to inquire too closely about the
precise meaning of the word “friends.” “I’m not sure I understand,” she said, instead.
“Kyle owes me, ya see. I saved his little sister a few years back—pushed her down and kept a bullet from partin’ her skull when some loose-screw Kaintuck was trying to shoot up Natchez. So Kyle’s papa said if there was ever anything I needed, I was to call at Montrose. Well, I needed something.”
“So Kyle is here… to help you control the kind of crowd I saw earlier?”
“That’s partly it. Someone had to drive away that pack o’ Bible pounders. I’ve got nothin’ against religion, ya see, but Silver Street ain’t a place to be preachin’. It wouldn’t do most of those scoundrels any good to find the Lord, anyhow. They don’t have souls to save. But that ain’t…isn’t,” she corrected herself, “the only reason I needed Kyle. There’s been talk of burnin’ this place down, and none of my gals feels safe anymore. I can’t do business with my gals upset, let me tell you.”
“Well, yes…I can see that,” Selena admitted.
“But what’s got me worried now is you. Ladies like you ain’t safe down here. You wanna tell me what put such a sap-skulled notion into your head, comin’ down here at night?”
“I was worried about Kyle,” Selena said quietly. “I thought he might be… involved with another woman.”
“Meaning me? Well, let me tell you, he ain’t… isn’t. And he hasn’t been fooling with any of my gals, either. Kyle’s had women chasin’ him since he could fill out his britches, so he can pick and choose who he wants. And he is right choosy, let me tell you. He never looked twice whenever I brought a new gal in. Always stuck with—er, but you don’t want to hear about that.”
“No.” Selena looked down at her gloved hands, her cheeks flaming. Never would she get used to the candid way Americans had of speaking.
“So you came here to drag him back home by his hair?” Angel prodded. “Honey, take my advice, that ain’t no way to win a man, especially not Kyle.”
Selena had the miserable notion the woman was right. She had shown incredible naïveté, thinking she could convince Kyle to return home. A babe, Angel had called her. More like a fool. But she had felt desperate. She wanted Kyle at home, with her, in her bed. And she had no idea how to go about getting him there.
But…perhaps Angel knew.
Selena cast a surreptitious glance at the beautiful redhead. Did she dare ask for guidance from a woman like that? But yes, she was willing to listen to any suggestions that would improve her chances of winning Kyle. Indeed, she was willing to try almost anything.
Taking a deep breath, Selena swallowed her reserve and her pride. “If I’m not going about it the right way, then what would you suggest?” she queried, at last meeting the redhead’s gaze directly. “I do want to win Kyle, I assure you, but I haven’t had much success. He hasn’t looked at me lately any more than he has your girls.”
“I don’t believe it,” Angel said flatly. “If there’s one thing Kyle’s not, it’s blind. And you’re not exactly the kind a man can overlook, anyways. Do you know what kind a price a gal with your looks could fetch here? In New Orleans, it’d be double.”
“But it’s true. He hasn’t… not recently.”
The redhead gave her a look of patent skepticism. “I was sure it was ‘cause of you that Kyle’s been so unfriendly lately.”
“I don’t think I’m the reason. Kyle isn’t…” Selena hesitated, knowing she was blushing to the roots of her hair. She didn’t know how to say this. “He isn’t…sharing my bed.”
Angel’s mouth dropped open. “But you’re his wife!”
Selena briefly described the circumstances of their forced marriage. At the end of the story, Angel looked relieved.