“Oh, my stars,” she said in awed tones as he ushered her into the large room. “I’ve never seen so many books in someone’s house in all my life!” Like metal shavings drawn to a magnet, she moved toward the bookshelves that lined one entire wall. “Oh, Luke, do you realize how very lucky you are? You could read for a year and never run out of material!”
As much as he enjoyed reading, Luke didn’t think the books were the room’s most interesting feature. For starters, a whole wall at one end was devoted to a fireplace made with gold-veined ore taken from one of his mines. Most people couldn’t take their gazes off it and invariably asked if the gold was real.
In addition to the fireplace, he’d spent a fortune on the furnishings. A custom-designed leather sofa and two matching armchairs. A hand-carved oak desk. Imported crystal hurricane lamps. A gorgeous Persian rug. Everywhere Luke looked, he saw things that should have been capturing her attention. Instead, she seemed mesmerized by the titles she was reading aloud.
“If you enjoy reading that much, Cassandra, you’re welcome to borrow a book any time you like,” he offered when she paused for breath.
Once again wearing his white shirt over one of the dresses he’d bought her yesterday, she pressed a hand to the buttoned front placket and turned toward him, her eyes round with delight. “Oh, are you sure you won’t mind? As I told you last night, I love to read, and I hardly ever get to.”
He made an all-encompassing gesture toward the shelves. “Make free.”
In his reading tastes, at least, Luke was fairly conservative and had nothing on the shelves that might pollute her mind. Unlike some men, he wasn’t limited to seeking lascivious pleasures between the covers of a book, so he seldom chose that sort of reading material. To fill in the gaps in his education, which were gargantuan, he leaned more toward the informative or classic literature.
As she turned back to study more book titles, his gaze dropped to the shirt again. The tails fell well past her hips, revealing only the lower half of the dress. This one was crimson silk, his favorite, the revealing style of which was totally camouflaged by the loose folds of white silk she wore over it. Luke counted himself lucky she hadn’t joined him for breakfast this morning draped in that ugly old shawl of her mother’s as well, undoubtedly because the combined layers of clothing were too stifling inside the warm house.
“Cassandra,” he said in a firm voice, “I’d really like to talk to you. Do you think you could tear your eyes away from those books long enough to hear what I’ve got to say?”
She spun around again, her expression contrite. “I’m sorry. It’s just…well, it’s like being in a library. Papa took me to one once, you know. In Denver, when we were passing through. I could have stayed there for days.”
Luke indicated that she should take a seat on the sofa. As she perched on the edge of a leather cushion, he leaned against his desk and crossed his feet.
“I’ve learned one of your secrets,” she said suddenly.
Luke, who’d been contemplating the gleaming black toe of one boot while he tried to compose what he meant to say, glanced warily up at her. Her eyes were gleaming, and her lips curved in a particularly sweet way.
“What secret is that?” he asked in a cautious tone, his first thought being that he’d somehow missed a drawer when he cleaned out her room last night. Had she stumbled across some obscene little gadget or lewd garment?
She leaned slightly forward. “Your favorite color. It’s red!” She indicated the pattern in the Persian rug. “In nearly every room I’ve seen, there are touches of it, just as bright as can be. When you did my rooms, it must have been your grand finale.”
Luke’s relief was as inexplicable as it was unprecedented. Suppressing the urge to reach out and smooth a tendril of dark hair from her cheek, he uncrossed his feet, crossed them again, and then began tapping the side of his thumb on the desk.
Wryly, he wondered why Cassandra Zerek brought out this odd streak of protectiveness in him. When he’d brought her here yesterday, he’d had every intention of introducing her to some of those gadgets eventually and insisting she wear scanty, seductive lingerie to please him, but that had been before she had turned his whole life upside down.
Maybe it was because she was so trusting, and so young and vulnerable, that she made him feel…what? Responsible for her? Or even a little guilty?
“Yes,” he admitted, glancing at her skirt, “I guess you could say my favorite color is red.”
At least, it had been until he’d seen her in that god-awful room last night and realized what a bawdy color it actually was. Recalling his decision to redecorate her bedchamber, Luke snapped his fingers.
“That reminds me.” He turned to a pad of paper on his desk and jotted himself a note. “What’s your favorite color, Cassandra?”
“Blue.”
He made note of that as well, then tossed down the pen. As he turned back to her, he sighed. “Cassandra…”
“Yes?”
“We have to reach a clear agreement. When I hired you to be my paid companion, I’m afraid you didn’t understand the duties I expect you to perform.”
“Oh…I’m sorry. I thought we had a lovely time last night. That is, I did. I guess—”
“I did, too,” he hastened to assure her. “Truly. It’s just—” Luke found himself at a loss for words. Speaking delicately was an art for which he lacked talent, and now that he was actually facing her, speaking bluntly didn’t seem at all the thing. “I, um…”
Those eyes. Not even Luke, who’d always prided himself on being single-minded and prodigiously ruthless when he wanted something, could ignore their adoring glow.
“I’m paying you a very generous wage,” he finally managed. “Can we agree on that much?”
She nodded, the loose curls caught up at her crown by the familiar red ribbon bobbing with each dip of her chin. “Absolutely.”
He cleared his throat and told himself to ignore the singsong voice in the back of his mind that kept saying, Bastard. You heartless bastard.
If this was what it was like to have a conscience—a little voice resounding inside his head that called him insulting names—Luke decided he’d happily forego the experience.
“I don’t think it’s unreasonable of me to expect you to perform the services I’m paying you for, Cassandra,” he observed drily. “Do you?”
“Not at all.” Her eyes grew dark, and her brows swooped together. “I guess I did fail to please you.”
The last thing he wanted was to wound her. “I wouldn’t put it exactly like that,” he amended. “It’s more appropriate to say that I’m afraid you don’t understand the, ah, specifics of what I expect.”
“Oh. Specifics. I see.” She nibbled her bottom lip. “I’m sorry, Luke. Mrs. Whitmire assured me that you love to play chess.”
“I do! It’s just—” He threw up his hands. “Honey, it’s just that talking and playing chess all evening weren’t what I had in mind.”
“I see.”
Only, of course, she didn’t. Gazing into her lovely eyes, Luke knew she didn’t see at all. “Sweetheart,” he said cautiously, “do you understand what wifely duties are?”
The smooth slope of her forehead pleated in another frown. After a moment, the bewilderment disappeared from her expression. “Wifely duties. Yes, of course.”
“I’m not talking about your mending my shirts,” he said bluntly. “I’m talking about other sorts of duties, the kind a wife generally performs late at night for her husband when everybody else is asleep and the house is quiet.”
Cassandra got a knowing look in her eyes, which he took as a good sign. “Late at night duties,” she repeated, nodding.
“It’s those kinds of duties I’ve hired you to perform,” he said softly.
She glanced nervously around his study. He suspected she was trying to avoid his gaze. After a moment, her expression went from concerned to downright alarmed. Before she could fly into a temper, he held up a han
d.
“I’m a fair man. I realize you didn’t enter into this agreement with a clear understanding of my expectations. And after getting to know you a bit better, I also realize you may not be—” He shrugged and sighed. “Well, suffice it to say, you may find such a position…demeaning. If you—”
“I’m not exactly in a position to be selective,” she pointed out. “You’ve given me and Khristos a home. And Lye-Lye, of course. It’s only right that I repay you in any way you think is fair.”
Luke could scarcely believe how easily she’d acquiesced. Relieved, he flashed her a slow smile. “I’m pleased to hear that. And I must say, I admire your…well, shall we say, flexibility?”
Her smile was sunrise and sunset and a perfect day in between. “My papa taught us that, in order to survive, we have to be adaptable.”
Luke nodded. “Your papa is a wise man.” Bracing his hands at the edge of the desk, Luke shifted his position, inhaled a deep breath, then let it out with a chuckle of sheepish laughter. He settled a warm gaze on her. “To be honest, I was half expecting this discussion to get a little ugly. I’m glad you’ve decided to be mature and not hold it against me. Being an unmarried man…” He let his voice trail away. “Well, I’m sure even you understand that a man has certain needs, and if you aren’t willing to fulfill them, I’ll have to hire someone else.”
She looked so distressed he was tempted to reach for her. “Oh, please, don’t consider hiring someone else. I need this position. Even though I know Khristos and I would manage somehow, we’d be in an awful fix if I lost it.”
“As long as you fulfill your side of the bargain and your performance pleases me, I’ll have no reason to hire someone else, will I?”
“I understand, Luke,” she said earnestly. “And I promise not to shirk my responsibilities again. After all, it’s not as if Mrs. Whitmire can take care of those sorts of things for you.”
Luke barked with laughter. “Definitely not!” He searched her gaze for a moment, his chest going oddly tight.
“She’s rather plump, isn’t she?” She smiled again, conspiringly. “Don’t tell her I said so, but I’ve noticed she gets breathless going up the stairs. I’m sure the duties she already has sometimes seem overwhelming to her.”
Recalling the way she’d tucked Khristos away in the storage room to save herself trouble, Luke had to agree.
A tense silence fell between them. Luke finally broke it by saying, “I really did enjoy being with you last night, honey. Don’t think I didn’t.”
A slight rosiness touched her cheeks. “I liked it a lot, too.”
Their gazes remained locked for what seemed to Luke an interminably long while, but he couldn’t look away. Not when her eyes were warming his face, and her smile was wrapping around him like a hug. “It’s not that I don’t want to spend evenings chatting and playing chess again. I do. It’s just that I expect other things from you as well.”
She nodded again. Strands of her sable hair caught the light, radiating gold. “No problem. I assure you, Luke, that I won’t disappoint you again.”
“You didn’t disappoint me. Never that.” He flashed her a meaningful grin, which she returned shyly. “I think frustrated would better describe how I felt.”
She pushed to her feet and smoothed her skirts. “And that’s perfectly understandable. If you hire someone to do a job and they don’t—well, anyone would feel frustrated.”
Luke straightened and shoved himself away from the desk. Closing the distance between them, he cupped her small chin in his hand and lifted her face. “I don’t want you to feel nervous,” he told her softly. “Promise me you won’t. I know this is all new to you.”
She laid her hand lightly over his wrist. “I’m a fast learner, Luke, and I know I can count on you to be patient. I may be a little…well, awkward at first. But with practice, I’ll improve. The way I’ve lived, I haven’t acquired a lot of experience, and certain aspects are likely to seem a little overwhelming to me.”
“We’ll take it slow,” he promised. “Ease you into it. Where you lack experience, I have a wealth of it.”
She drew back, still smiling. “I may draw from your expertise, then. When I take on a task, I like to do it right.”
Luke liked the sound of that. Indeed, he had a feeling he was going to make a very enthusiastic teacher.
As Luke left the house a few minutes later, his mood was much improved. Despite the storm last night, the sun shone warmly on his shoulders as he stepped along the cobblestone sidewalks that bordered the well-kept yards of his neighbors, and the rain-washed air carried the acrid but oddly pleasant scent of smoke from backyard burning barrels. Plump housewives, dressed in serviceable basque day jackets and skirts protected by wraparound overskirts, waved good morning to him from their porches, where they were either shaking rugs or sweeping steps. Dogs came running out to sniff at his tan woolen trousers, then wagged their tails in friendly recognition as they trotted off to mark their territory, christening bushes and white picket fence posts.
Luke couldn’t suppress a sense of well-being, especially when he contemplated the coming night with Cassandra. No chess, no kid, no wet, stinking dog. Not tonight. For the first time in a very long while, he could scarcely wait for his day to be finished so he might hurry home.
As Luke angled across Gambler’s Way to the corner of Diamond, his gaze caught on the dry goods store. Jed Wilson, the proprietor, happened to be outside sweeping the front walk, his white apron flapping in the morning breeze. After checking both directions for approaching conveyances, Luke crossed the thoroughfare.
“Good morning to you, Jed!”
The plump store owner jumped with a start, then pushed up his spectacles to regard Luke’s advance with myopic owlishness. Shifting the broom to one hand, he ran a palm over his shiny bald pate. “Ah, Mr. Taggart. How are you?”
“Doing well, doing well.” Luke drew to a stop, hands thrust in his trouser pockets, his brown jacket swept back by his wrists to reveal his yellow silk vest. “Say, Wilson, do you happen to carry nightshirts, by any chance? Something to fit a small lad.”
“Certainly.” Stepping to the recessed doorway, Jed leaned his broom against the gray clapboard and waved for Luke to follow him. Once inside, he meandered down one aisle, then cut left up another, his hand trailing lightly over the bolts of cloth and sewing notions displayed on tables and racks.
“Ah, here we are,” Wilson said as he drew to a stop. “What size are you wanting?”
Luke pursed his mouth. “Well…” He held out a hand to indicate Khristos’s height. “About so tall, a skinny little mite. I need it for the Zerek boy, Khristos. Perhaps you know him?”
“Oh, yes! He’s in Zachariah’s class at school.” Jed shook his head. “I heard about his father and older brother getting tossed in the hoosegow. Crying shame, that. Milo Zerek always struck me as a decent sort, honest and forthright. I was mightily surprised to hear he’d taken to claim jumping, especially on one of yours. Never took the man for a fool.”
“Yes, well, you can never tell about people, I guess.”
Wilson shook his head. “I reckon not. Zerek never once tried to squeeze me for credit, like some folks do. In my books, that’s usually a sign of good character.” He pulled a blue flannel nightshirt from the center of a stack. “This one will fit.” He rubbed the nap between his fingers. “Nice and warm it’ll be, too.”
Luke took the proffered garment and held it up for inspection. It looked awfully small to him. “You’re sure it will fit?”
“If it doesn’t, you can exchange it.” Jed winked. “But I have an eye for sizes, you know. Especially as they pertain to boys that age, being’s I have one of my own.” Crossing his arms over his potbelly, Wilson rocked back on his heels. His brown eyes gleamed with curiosity behind his spectacles. “May I ask why you’re buying the boy a nightshirt? Seems an odd thing to do, being’s his pappy got caught red-handed stealing from you.”
Luke laid the nigh
tshirt over his arm. The speculative expression on Wilson’s face set off warning bells in his mind. If he said the wrong thing, it would become fodder for the gossips, and his pretty little mistress would be hurt. Normally, Luke didn’t worry about what others might think. He did what he pleased, the devil take gainsayers. But that had been before he’d formed an alliance with an innocent young girl who wore her heart on her sleeve.
“Zerek’s being arrested left his children on their own with no means of support,” Luke said, striving for just the right note of offhandedness. “When no one else came forward to give them assistance, I offered to put them up at my place. Better that than see them tossed out in the streets. Not even I could sleep nights with that on my conscience.”
“Ah…” Wilson’s tone conveyed that he found the explanation highly suspect, which came as no surprise.
“What the child has by way of clothing—well, I can’t very well let him run about in rags,” Luke explained. “When I spotted you out on the sidewalk, it occurred to me you might carry at least a few of the things he needs.”
“Mighty kind of you, if you don’t mind my saying so, especially under the circumstances. Hell of a note when a man gets done dirty, then finds himself supporting the offender’s children.”
“Not really. My housekeeper, Mrs. Whitmire, can always use another pair of hands, and the girl is of an age to be helpful around the house. I figure she can more than earn their keep.”
Luke wasn’t sure where that had come from or even why he’d said it. In truth, it was silly to bother. Sooner or later, the townspeople would realize what was going on, and Cassandra’s reputation would be in tatters. By evading the truth now, Luke was only delaying the inevitable.