Page 11 of The Gilded Lady
Deciding it was best to change the subject, she followed his gaze to the sofa. “I’m sorry that I’m not really set up for guests.” She gestured to the small parlor that was equipped with a sofa and a couple of chairs. A dining table and a small kitchen area with an icebox took up the far corner of the space. “If you’re hungry, I can offer you bread and jam.” She shrugged in apology at her meager offerings. She usually took her meals down in the kitchen.
“I’ve already eaten supper.” He voice was strong and calm. The fact that he seemed a little less lost than her in this arrangement somehow set her at ease. “You seem anxious,” he said, raising a brow at her.
She nodded. Having a giant of a man, especially one that she was so attracted to, standing in her private space would do that. “It’s strange for me to have someone else here.”
“Go about your evening as if I’m not here. You don’t have to wait on me.”
Easier said than done. Often she ended her nights with a long hot soak in the tub, but she didn’t see that in her future tonight. It felt strange to be naked with him in the next room. She couldn’t even think of doing that without blushing.
Instead of commenting on that, she said, “I’m sorry I don’t have a cot for you. You can take the sofa. Tomorrow I can have a bed moved in.”
He was shaking his head before she’d finished. “No, we don’t want to rouse suspicion. Hopefully it’ll be just a night or two and we can get the matter settled without anyone realizing I’m here.”
Gossip traveled like wildfire through the house, so Glory very much doubted they’d be able to accomplish this arrangement without someone finding out, but she kept that opinion toherself. They’d deal with whatever problems arose when they had to. “Right. I’ll get you some blankets.”
She escaped to the safety of her room and opened the chest at the end of the bed. Pulling out the extra quilt that she used in winter to double up her blankets, she grabbed the second pillow from her bed and headed back to the main room. She had to force herself to let go of the breath she’d been holding when she saw Zane taking off his coat. His button-down shirt was stretched tight across his broad shoulders, and the muscles in his arms flexed as he moved, straining against the fabric.
This man was all physical power. She usually found that unappealing, preferring the efficient slimness required to properly wear a suit on the male form, but with Zane…She sucked in a deep breath and forced herself not to think about the tingling warmth spreading across her skin. It was best to keep her mind solely on the problem at hand. In this case his powerful form was the problem, because she had no idea how he was going to fit on her sofa. It wasn’t dainty by any means, and she’d fallen asleep on it often enough reading to know that it was comfortable, but he was just so big.
“Sorry again.” She dropped the quilt and pillow onto the sofa, casting a long look at the piece of furniture. “I’m not certain you’ll fit.”
To her surprise he gave her a smile—a real smile that lit up his whole face—as he draped his coat over the rolled arm of the sofa and sat down. His arms were spread across the back, taking up nearly the entire length of the piece of furniture. “I’ll make it work, pretty lady.”
His smile, coupled with the intensity of his gaze on her face, made her wonder if he was making a double entendre. She should’ve been outraged or at least affronted, but she found herself having to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. He’d always teased her, not put off by her confidence orthe fact that she was in charge, and, most importantly, he never made her feel like he was insulting her or disrespecting her. Perhaps that’s why she liked his teasing comments and the few times he’d used that nickname for her. They made her feel earthy and real, not the porcelain queen this place sometimes made her out to be because of the role she played.
Before she could respond, a slim leather-bound book slipped out of his coat pocket to land with a thud on her rug. She recognized it as his sketchbook, as it landed on its spine and fell open. The page was upside down, but it looked to be a drawing of a woman with a very revealing slit in her dress that exposed nearly her entire leg.
She’d seen him a few times at the bar writing or drawing in it—she’d never been able to get close enough to take a look—but then last week she’d searched his room. She’d been looking for an answer to why he was hiding out at Victoria House, in case the reason put her staff in danger, but instead she’d found that book. Flipping through it, she’d expected to find secret plans about God only knew what, but instead she’d found his drawings. Most of them were of places she assumed he’d been: buildings, farmhouses, desert and mountain landscapes; but some of them had been of women. Very nude women.
An unreasonable surge of jealousy crept over her as she stared at the woman in the drawing. She wasn’t jealous because he’d obviously been with those women. She was jealous because she could never be one of them. It wasn’t even a question of emotional attachment or her running a brothel and him being an outlaw.
It was because she was broken. Irrevocably. Her skin prickled hot and then cold at the unwanted reminder of why she could never be with him the way a normal woman could.
They seemed to come to their senses at the same time and both bent down to retrieve the book. She touched it first, but hislarger hand covered hers. Surprised, she looked up and his face was only inches away. She’d never been this close to him. She could count his short black eyelashes and smell the pleasingly faint hint of whiskey on his breath. They were so close she could feel how solid he was just from their proximity.
“Sorry,” she managed to whisper, drawing her arm back and rising. She meant to make a joke about the drawing, to say something about obscenities not being allowed in her suite, but she couldn’t say anything. When she opened her mouth, absolutely nothing came out except another breath she’d been holding. Deciding to retreat while her dignity was still intact, she inclined her head. “Good night, Mr. Pierce.”
Whirling away, she left him for the comfort and familiarity of her bedchamber. After she locked her door, she pressed her back against the cool wood. How was she ever going to get through the next few days with Zane being so close? Hopefully Hunter would find the person responsible for the letter very soon.
Chapter Six
Zane watched Hunter make his way down the boardwalk across the road. He waited until he’d reached the cobblestones that fronted Victoria House before he crossed to dodge the mud. Like many of the roads in town that weren’t main thoroughfares, it hadn’t been paved and was frequently at risk of becoming impassable due to rain. At some point Glory and Able had addressed the issue and had added cobblestones on the area of the street directly fronting their establishment so that mud wouldn’t have much effect on business. Despite the recent rain and the fact that it was hardly past midday when the house opened for luncheon, men were making their way inside. He’d never realized how busy the place was or what exactly that success meant for Glory. She could be a target of far worse than the person who’d left that letter on her desk.
He thought of Harvey and the men who’d tried to forcibly take her business from her a couple of years ago, the first time he’d met her. She’d sent Hunter word that she needed help. Fortunately, all it had taken to make the businessmen realizeshe wasn’t as vulnerable as they’d hoped was their gang showing up to a meeting alongside Glory with their guns on their hips. The men had gotten the point and left town. Something in his gut told him it wouldn’t be so easy this time. This time it wasn’t her business that was at stake. It was Glory herself, because some monster from her past seemed to want her. He’d tried his damnedest to pull information from her staff that morning, but no one seemed to know anything about her life before Victoria House. The staff turned over every few years as women moved on to other lives. He hadn’t found one who was here when she’d arrived.
“What have you found out?” Zane pushed away from the wall when Hunter stepped up onto the boardwalk. They’d moved Cas to Hunter’s town house at daybreak, and Hunter had spent the rest of the morning at the bank.
Glancing around to see if anyone was nearby to overhear, Hunter led him around the corner. “Nothing yet.” Hunter grimaced, clearly exasperated. “The account was just opened last week and belongs to some company based in St. Louis. I’ve done some checking but haven’t been able to find a person attached to the company yet. The address for the company is a post office letterbox. I telegrammed for more information, but it could be a few days before we know.”
“A few days?” The skin on the back of Zane’s neck tightened. “We may not have a few days. It could take even longer to find this person once we have a name.”
Hunter nodded in agreement. “I know. It’s not great news, but it’s all we’ve got right now.”
Zane ran a hand across his brow, feeling a headache start to pound behind his temples. “You put any stock in what that letter said? You think the person really knows who she is? Where she came from?”
The grim look on Hunter’s face confirmed his feelings. “I’ve been thinking about that and it seems credible. Why go through the trouble otherwise? Anyone here knows that Glory has her own men for protection.” Aside from Able, the house employed two gunmen to keep the peace. They were always visible at the front doors and occasionally making the rounds of the parlors and lounges. “After what happened a couple of years ago, they know that she can call us in for help. It’s not worth the risk.”
“I’ve spent the morning talking to her staff.” Zane sighed. “They all speak highly of her. Most of them had nowhere to go when she took them in. Others sought out Victoria House because they knew they’d be treated better here than any other brothel in the territory.”
