The Unlikely Groom. Wendy Douglas
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square jaw. And while his dark blue eyes pierced her with the force of his stare, they did little enough to draw her attention away from his mouth. His lips were full in a classic bow shape, and the whole image gave him an improper, seductive air.
An air of wickedness. Something…irresistible. And something that enticed and repelled with equal fervor.
Or did that impression come from his overlong blond hair? It scraped well past his collar, almost to his shoulders, and tumbled into his eyes. The blunt cut looked tantalizingly tousled, as if he had done nothing more than run his fingers through it once he’d left his bed. Or perhaps someone else—one of the soiled doves who seemed to abound in Skagway?—had done it for him.
Ashlynne swallowed, astonished by the shamelessness of her thoughts. Her heart had found an extra, erratic beat that left her gasping. She tried to catch her breath but couldn’t seem to manage it. Her heart stumbled, her breathing continued with no apparent rhythm…and the man kept coming.
What was wrong with her? He was just a man, after all.
He stopped an arm’s length away and frowned. “Who are you?” he demanded without preamble.
“I…” His rudeness sent her thoughts tumbling with a new uncertainty and she couldn’t quite formulate the haughty answer she might have liked. “I’m Ashlynne Mackenzie. Who are you?”
He blinked, as though he hadn’t expected the question. But then, she hadn’t exactly planned to make such a request of him and certainly not in such a saucy tone. She regretted it the instant it was too late. She wanted these people—these strangers—to help her; insolence would hardly encourage them to do so.
“I’m Lucas Templeton.” The man surprised her when he answered, considering how very…detached he sounded. The fire in his eyes was gone, as well. Still, he didn’t look away and the aloof distance in his stare left her feeling nearly as uneasy as had his earlier vehemence. She refused to let him see it, however.
“I own the Star of the North,” he added after a moment.
“The Star—” She blinked and cast a cursory glance around her. It was an unthinking reaction; she hadn’t forgotten for a moment where she was or why she was here. “That’s the name of this place? The Star of the North?”
“You didn’t know?”
She shook her head, thinking instead that she would be safe to settle her gaze somewhere near Lucas Templeton’s shoulder. Unfortunately looking at him at all only made her more aware of his strength and size in an entirely new—and intimate—way.
She jerked her gaze up to his and held herself steady as she tried to regulate her breathing. “I’m sorry,” she said, hoping her apology might give her a reprieve from the bone-deep intensity of his glare. “I’ve been in so many of these places tonight I lost track.”
“So many?”
The question, low and incredulous, kept her eyes drawn to his, no matter that she knew better. In spite of the dim interior, she could see that his expression remained narrowed with distrust. In fact, he made no attempt to disguise it; he didn’t blink or look away, revealing exactly what he wanted her to see.
“I…yes.” She swallowed in an effort to free up an answer. Surely that would help with this breathlessness—wouldn’t it? “I’ve been in a number of—”
“How many?” he interrupted.
“I beg your pardon?” Her spine stiffened despite her very precarious situation. Perilous predicament or not, she didn’t tolerate anyone making such rude, autocratic demands of her.
“How many?” he repeated as he stepped forward.
He smelled of whiskey. Ashlynne caught the scent, a familiar one that made her want to back away. She resisted the impulse and the weakness it would reveal, reminding herself sternly that she had no excuse for it. She’d known exactly what to expect before she’d ever entered the first saloon. She’d grown up as a Mackenzie in San Francisco, after all. Her father had been very clear in his choice of vices and he’d trained his only son quite effectively to follow in his footsteps.
And if his daughter had proved to be an utter failure…well, fate had given her this unexpected chance to succeed.
“How many?” Templeton asked again. His voice came sharp with impatience this time.
Ashlynne stiffened and offered him a disapproving glare. “Five or six,” she said woodenly.
“And why would you do that?” He paused and angled his head as though suddenly looking at her from a different perspective. “Are you looking for work?”
“No!” She meant to resist the provocation of this man’s impolite questions, but the word came out too sharp all the same. “I am not looking for work. I’m looking for—someone.”
Just because she answered, she didn’t have to give him any more information than was strictly necessary. Even so, she couldn’t afford to dismiss him too quickly; Lucas Templeton left little doubt that he was not a man to be denied.
Besides, she didn’t yet know if he could help her.
She forced herself to ignore her inner uncertainties and looked at Templeton once more, straight-on this time. “His name is Ian Mackenzie. Have you seen him?”
Templeton shrugged with little apparent interest. “I don’t know. I don’t know every man who comes into the Star. I don’t even know most of them. What does he look like?”
Anxiously, Ashlynne began her recitation. “He’s tall, although not as tall as you are.” Her gaze skittered away when she heard how personal her observation sounded and she hurried on. “His hair is dark and he’s dressed…well—” she waved a hand toward the room in general “—I suppose like most of the men here.”
Realizing what she’d done, she retucked her not-quite-steady hand under the opposite arm before anyone—most especially Lucas Templeton—could notice.
He didn’t seem impressed with her words, nor did he show any interest in her movements. He lifted an eyebrow to disappear beneath the hair that had fallen over his forehead. “You just described half the men here.”
“Yes, it would seem so.” She couldn’t argue with the truth. “We’ve been in Skagway a few days and—”
“A cheechako?” The word sounded like the same accusation as whenever else Ashlynne had heard it. No one wanted to be a greenhorn, it seemed; they all wanted the knowledge and experience of a seasoned Alaskan.
A sourdough.
“Yes,” she agreed.
“What makes you think he’d be in here?”
Ashlynne swallowed a weary sigh. She had no intention of admitting to this man—or to anyone—that she had no idea where Ian might be.
He’d been so good on board the ship. Then they’d arrived and the frenzied excitement of Skagway had immediately taken hold of him, like the first taste of alcohol to a drunk. Ian had reverted to his old habits so quickly, Ashlynne still didn’t quite know how it had happened.
She did know her brother, however—and better than she might have liked at times. The only things he might require for an evening’s entertainment would be women, gambling and liquor. The Star of the North boasted all three.
Why wouldn’t he come here?
“Is something wrong, sugar?”
A new voice intruded and Ashlynne realized that she’d missed the approach of another woman. A woman who belonged in a place like this.
The newcomer sidled up behind Templeton and slipped her arm around his waist to stand next to him, hip to hip. Her red hair appeared quite shocking at first, but a second look gave it more of a hint of the…exotic. She was tall—nowhere near Templeton’s height but claiming several inches