The Devil's Kiss. Deloras Scott
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close to a father as she had ever known. “You are impossible.”
Howard nodded. “I hope this time you haven’t taken on more than you can handle, Priss.” He set the glass of whiskey on the mantel.
“What do you think? Can he show me everything I want to see?”
“I have a strong hunch you’ve met your match with our Mr. Wagner. But to answer your question, I have no idea what the man can or cannot do. Maybe we’ll know more after supper.” Oddly, it flashed through Howard’s mind that he had been watching over Beth for nearly ten years and it was time for someone else to take over the task.
Beth decided to change the subject. “Esther is still in bed, but I thought you’d like to know that color has returned to her cheeks.”
“I never expected it not to.” Howard finished his drink. “Don’t blame yourself for her sickness. You had no way of knowing the Missouri River would be so choppy.”
“You’re right, of course, but I hated seeing her so miserable.”
“I’ll see you at supper, Priss.” Howard left, feeling uneasy. Over the years he’d known a lot of men. Some good, some dangerous. Which was Cole Wagner? He still wished he had been able to talk Beth out of this foolish trip.
With Howard gone, Beth suddenly felt alone. It was a familiar feeling. She’d known it for so many years it had almost become a friend. Howard had said she needed to find a good man to marry. One she couldn’t order about. Esther had said the feeling was caused from never really knowing her parents. Her uncle had taken on the responsibility of raising her when her parents had died somewhere in Europe, but Uncle Oliver bore her no true affection. She smiled faintly. Howard and Esther were her family. Frank had joined them a little later. He was just a boy then.
Beth glanced at the wag clock, then quickly stood. She had to meet Mr. Smyth downstairs in fifteen minutes. She wanted to be sure all final arrangements had been completed—something she could have let Howard take care of, but she needed to be busy instead of just sitting around feeling sorry for herself. She also wanted to tell Mr. Smyth how disappointed she was in the outlaw he’d selected. Other than his size, Cole Wagner seemed more like a domestic cat than a lion. And it wasn’t right that he should be on the handsome side. He was supposed to appear villainous.
Chapter Two
Not until Cole was ready to sit at the supper table did Howard remove the handcuffs. Cole rubbed his wrists, noticing the red abrasions. The deputy had locked them too tight.
From the moment Cole had entered the room, his eyes had not left the beauty already seated across from him. The bodice of her green grown dipped low enough to allow him an ample view of full, creamy breasts, waiting to be released from their confinement. Her hair hung in soft, copper ringlets and the green bows at each side of her face matched her gown. It had been a good three years since he’d formally dined with a lady of such absolute loveliness.
“Please be seated, Cole,” Howard said. “I’m sure you could use a meal under your belt.”
The moment Cole was settled, a parade of servants appeared. Bowls of vegetables and platters of beef and fowl were held out for his selection. At least his hostess’s attitude had improved from earlier.
“Excellent meal, Mrs. Alexander,” Cole complimented when he had finished his dessert.
“Thank you. Please call me Beth. Everyone else does.”
“What do you do with what’s left over?”
“As you will soon discover,” Howard answered, “Beth has a lot of people in her employ.”
Beth dabbed her lips with her linen napkin before placing it beside her plate. “I think it’s time for us to get down to business.”
Cole leaned back in his chair and smiled. “Excuse me for not mentioning sooner that you are a vision of loveliness tonight.”
The compliment took Beth completely by surprise. “I... Thank you. Ah...” Beth regained her composure. “Until I started this trip, I had never traveled in my own country. I’ve never seen a man robbed or shot, or a gun drawn. I haven’t seen savage Indians. This is where you come in. I want you to show me all this. I want to see stagecoaches and trains held up. In other words, I want to see the real frontier. Naturally I’ll be making sketches and taking notes the entire time. I intend to write novels.” Beth looked him straight in the eye. “I am writing about outlaws.”
Cole was dismayed. She was serious! There wasn’t even a hint of humor in her expression — or Howard’s. Now, how the hell was he supposed to react to this? Damn! Someone had better supply him with some answers—and soon. What was her part in this assignment? “Do you realize what you’re asking?”
Beth stood. “Of course I do,” she replied indignantly. “I’ve done a considerable amount of reading on the matter.”
“Are you going to let her do this?” Cole asked Howard as they followed Beth into the small parlor.
“You will learn that the lady has a mind of her own.”
“Why would you ask such a ques —” Beth broke off and laughed with delight. “Howard, I do believe he thinks we are lovers.”
“I gave it some thought,” Cole admitted.
“Why, I’ll wager you were even convinced that I’m a kept woman.”
Cole kept his comments to himself. He was still trying to digest all the woman planned to accomplish during her travels.
“Actually, Howard, I can see where he could have reached that conclusion.”
Nothing was going right, and Cole would very much have liked to join Howard in a drink of that whiskey the debonair gentleman was pouring himself. He was having to second-guess everything, and his guesses were not getting the results he’d expected. Figuring out Beth Alexander wasn’t going to be easy.
“You are wrong on both accounts,” Beth assured Cole. “Howard and I are good friends. He watches after me.”
Cole watched her sit on the divan with the grace of a queen.
Beth looked directly at the tall man. “Now, I believe the time has come for you to tell me if you can provide what I want. Are you familiar with the area from here to Dodge City, my final destination?”
“Oh, I can provide what you want, and yes, I do know the territory. The question is whether or not I want to provide your entertainment. Are the men you’ve hired to go on the trek aware of what you are planning? I would think they would have concern for their lives, even if you don’t.”
Beth’s eyes flashed with indignation. “Let’s settle all the questions you might have so we will not have to broach this subject again. I want to write dime westerns. You are asking yourself why, when they are about men, and I don’t need the money. Because the editor at Beadle Library turned down my proposal. He said it was obvious I didn’t know what I was writing about. He was right. However, I can be a very determined woman. I will write those novels and prove my worth to the world, but as the editor said, first I must become acquainted with the real West.
“As for our trip, there will be nothing to concern yourself about except getting me to my destinations and providing what I want. Those who work for me have specific jobs and are quite capable of taking care of themselves. I am also capable of taking care of myself. There is little that I haven’t seen or done, including hunting tigers in India and playing matador in Spain.”
Beth paused, then added, “And I have seen death. When I was hunting, one of the maharaja’s beaters was mangled by the tiger.”
This time Cole didn’t ask if he could be seated. The high-backed chair looked the most comfortable.
“As for my people,” Beth continued, “I interviewed and hired each one individually. I made sure they would be loyal, willing