“Possibly?” she echoed, the full import of what he was saying sinking in. It had the sobering effect of a cold water bath. She did not know what outraged her more, the brusque manner of his proposal or his careless dismissal of her balloon company.
“Of all the conceit!” She spluttered, unable to find words strong enough to convey her indignation. “What the devilmakes you think I would give up my company to become your mistress?”
He smiled at her then and began to draw her back into his arms. His expression was tender, but smug enough to snap Rory fully to her senses. Before he could kiss her again, she punched, clawed and kicked to be free. He released her so suddenly she toppled to the floor of the carriage.
Her lips still felt branded from the heat of his kiss, even more so by her own response. What was the matter with him, behaving like this with a woman he’d just met, practically a stranger? More to the point, what was the matter with her? Even now, in the midst of her anger, she felt drawn to him.
He reached down to haul her back onto the seat. “Come on, Rory,” he said, his voice cool, but the fire still smoldering in his eyes. “There’s no sense being coy about this. That first kiss told me all I need to know.”
Rory struck his hand away. “You—you’re crazy!” she gasped, glaring at him through the tangle of her hair.
At that moment, the landau was obliged to give way to another vehicle crossing the intersection. Rory saw her chance and took it. As the carriage slowed, she flung open the door and rolled out to the pavement.
Encumbered by her skirts, she barely managed to land on her feet. Regaining her balance, she hiked up her hem past her ankles and tore off down the sidewalk.
“Rory!”
She heard Zeke shout her name, but she didn’t look back. The sound of pounding feet told her that he was coming after her. She pushed harder, lengthening her strides although she was no longer sure whom she was running from, Zeke or herself.
He’d have done better to have pursued her in the carriage. Ever since her grammar school days, she had been able to outdistance any boy on her block.
But luck turned against her as she whipped round the next corner. A loose cobblestone caused her to stumble and twist the same ankle she had injured earlier. She let out a cry as the familiar throbbing pain shot through her limb.
Gasping for breath, she glanced wildly along the vacant street. Not a horsecar in sight at this time of morning. Not much of anything in sight but a milk wagon making its rounds.
Rory hobbled forward, hailing the driver, a genial-looking old man with side whiskers. “Hey, mister. Could you give me a ride?”
The man appeared surprised to be accosted by a young woman in a silk gown and evening cloak, but he replied good-naturedly, “Well sure, but?—”
“Thank you.” Rory wasted no time scrambling up on the box. “Can we please go? I’m in something of a hurry.”
At that instant Zeke came charging round the corner, looking as mad as thunder. The milkman nodded as though in comprehension of the situation.
“Why, the dirty masher! We’ll give him a run for his money. Pestering innocent girls.” The old man clicked both his tongue and the reins. The ancient brown nag hitched in the traces took off with an astonishing burst of speed.
So did Zeke. For one awful moment, Rory thought he might catch up to them. He managed to race alongside, his face flushed with the exertion, his lower lip caught in grim determination. In another second, he would be able to catch hold of the wagon and haul himself aboard.
In desperation, Rory loosed the cloak from her shoulders. Just as Zeke’s hand closed over the wagon’s wooden side, she flung the garment, catching him neatly over the head. Tangled in the cloak’s folds, Zeke lost his grip, staggering back.
By the time he managed to extricate himself, he had lost any chance of overtaking Rory. Her last glimpse was of himplanted in the middle of the road, hands propped on his hips. She couldn’t make out what he was shouting at her, but that was likely just as well.
Rory sank back against the wagon seat, heaving a tremulous sigh of relief.
“There, that’s all right, missy,’ the old wagon driver chuckled. “We diddled that young spark real proper. You won’t be bothered by him anytime soon, I’ll wager.”
Rory said nothing. She didn’t feel like betting on that. She was seized by a presentiment even stronger than her banshee dreams. Somehow she knew she had not seen the last of Zeke Morrison.
Six
It was late afternoon by the time Zeke arrived at the Hoffman House Hotel for his meeting with Stanley Addison. One look at his face and most of the bellboys had the sense to stay clear of his path. Behind him, Zeke heard two of them whispering.
“Say, what d’ya think is the matter with Mr. Morrison? That scowl on his face is enough to wilt the daisies.”
“Aw, you know these big tycoons, fretting about their money all the time. Probably one of his deals went sour. I’m glad I got no such worries.”
“Yeah, ain’t we the lucky ones!”
The pair of them clammed up at once when Zeke turned and shot them a killing glare. With nervous smiles, the bellboys hustled off to their task of gathering up the baggage of the incoming guests.
