Mallory Rush - [Outlawsand Heroes 02] Page 8

  Crown Royal. The liquor's name appealed to Noble. Not so the reason for Lori's having bought it.

  "Never mind the cognac. Have you a cheroot laying about you might spare me?"

  "Smoking's bad for you. It can take years off your life."

  "Given that I've bought more years than most people can possibly imagine, what's the loss of a year or even a dozen. More to the point, why do you measure life in years rather than experience? To eat, laugh, and dream to your heart's content without censor, that is life. And to fill your pipe while you consider all of this, it is a pleasure to indulge in. And without pleasure, what is life?"

  She stared at him for a while, then shook her head and muttered, "the hell if I know." She went to a drawer and searched through it. She lifted two cigars, one brown, one wrapped in pink foil. Stalking back to the table, she tossed the former to him, along with a small box of matches and an ashtray. She peeled the wrapper off the cigar she kept for herself and began to lick what appeared to be chocolate.

  "Life's weird, you know? I mean, why do people pass out cancer sticks to celebrate a new life?"

  Though he did not know what cancer had to do with cheroots, Noble grasped the gist of her quandary.

  "Life and death," he observed, "have much in common." He bit off the cigar's end, lit it with several light puffs, and inhaled what proved to be... acceptable.

  "I never thought so before," she said tightly, "but I can definitely see the connection now."

  Watching her suck on the phallic-shaped chocolate, Noble felt a twinge in his groin. Could it be, he wondered, that respectable women of this day might indulge a man with such intimate acts as those that had once been the domain of harlots? While his pants tightened uncomfortably Lori took a sudden bite off the end. His wince coincided with her shout.

  "Dammit, Noble! Don't you ever pull something like that again or I'll—I'll—"

  "Kill me?" He blew a smoke ring then sipped at his too sweet tea. "Oh, come now, Lori, there was no harm done."

  "No harm done? The hell! You scared the living daylights out of me. And then—then! My stomach's still twisted in knots from lying through my teeth when I can't lie worth a damn. But you? You didn't even break a sweat, acted like the whole thing was no big deal. But it was. It was a big deal, Noble. Read my lips. It was a big deal."

  "Please, calm yourself. Drink your tea."

  "I have no intention of calming myself!" She slapped the table so hard their cups rattled. "Do you have any idea how crazy I went when you took off and left me screaming through the house, praying that you were safe while you wandered the streets without me?"

  "Clearly, I was far safer without you while I found my way about alone than I am in the presence of your company." Spearing her with a level glare, he charged, "I may be living in a time where I don't belong, but I am not stupid. I learn quickly, Lori. Know, therefore, you need never answer for me again."

  Grabbing her cup, she took a gulp—and gagged. "This is awful," she choked out.

  "Then perhaps the next time I ask you how you take your tea, you'll give me a better reply than 'fine.'" He tapped his ashes while she silently seethed.

  "Guns and Roses?" she suddenly said with a fake bit of laughter. "Next time try to come up with something more original, okay?"

  "Personally, I like it. However, since you don't, the next time you seek to put words in my mouth, make them more original than The Gold and the Glory. How bourgeois."

  "How bourgeois," she mimicked. "Tell me something, Noble. Why the hell do you have the last name of a Russian and talk like a Brit with a broomstick up his butt? Excuse me, up his aristocratic derriere."

  "Derriere. That's French." He raised a lofty brow.

  "If you'll notice, I'm not laughing. Look," she told him seriously, "if you're going to live in my house, I have a right to know something about you."

  "Such as?" he returned smoothly while his guard rose.

  "Such as where you picked up all your polish that doesn't jive with the mean streak you've got running a mile wide and just as deep. And don't tell me you don't have one. I saw it clear as day last night. And I don't like that 'Who me? I'm innocent' look on your face one bit when I know full well you're no innocent when it comes to the uglier side of life." She gave him a scrutinizing look.

  Had she found the wanted poster he'd hidden beneath the mattress of his bed? Noble consoled himself with the certainty that Lori would have tossed him out onto the streets she wanted to protect him from had she discovered it.

  "Should I choose not to oblige you, will you send me on my way?" Even if she did, he could survive. But he did need Lori, in more ways than he had ever needed another woman before; and so, yes, he would allow her to know him as few people ever had—after she gave him the answer he wanted.

  "No." With a heavy sigh, she said again, "no. I won't make you leave, but I'd feel a lot better if I had some kind of idea about who you really are. Besides, it's only fair. After all, I told you about what's happened in my life. You can't blame me for wanting the same from you."

  "Very well." He caught a glimpse of the rise of her breasts as she leaned eagerly forward, and remembered how soft they had felt against his chest, how hard she made him now with her hair a mess and face washed clean of the makeup she didn't need. "However, since divulging such matters is a rarity for me, I'm inclined to attach a price to the telling of my story." With his gaze fixed on her mouth, he named his terms.

  "I'll have a kiss in exchange. Payable upon demand."

  The tip of her tongue fleetingly brushed her bottom lip, sorely tempting him to demand his kiss then and there.

  "All right," she slowly agreed. "A fair exchange."

  Deciding to savor the anticipation of kissing her—and oh how deeply, how slowly, he would kiss her—Noble braced himself against the emotions he could feel gathering like a hard fist twisting inside his chest.

  Exercising a steely control, he said quietly, "I was and always will be a man who is what he is. Imperfect but proud and self-sufficient. Certainly able to care for himself and provide for those who are reliant upon him."

  "I've learned not to rely on anyone but myself," Lori was a bit too quick to assert.

  "Oh?" His regard was a deliberate reminder of the night before when she had needed him to hold her. In her eyes he saw a flash of vulnerability. It made his own more acceptable. "Such lessons are hard ones, Lori. As it was with you, my life was once graced with the security of loved ones and many wonderful privileges. I took them for granted, of course, until they were gone."

  She touched his hand as he stubbed out his cigar with more force than was necessary. "What happened?" she prompted.

  "In the end, something quite terrible. But I'll get to that later. For now I'll explain the circumstances of my rather unique lineage. My father was a poor, distant cousin to the czar, but was held in very fond regard. He was given a large parcel of land here, some years before Seward committed his great folly by buying this godforsaken land in... what was it? Oh yes, 1867. Anyway, my father deemed it better to remain amongst uncivilized people than to return to his homeland where he would be titled but penniless. Here, at least, he might strike gold and return to Russia a rich man."

  "Did he? Did your father find gold?"

  "He did. Several years later in a mountain cave on his granted estate. He was wise enough to keep the discovery to himself, but decided to hell with living like a pauper in the middle of nowhere. He didn't dare leave for long, but he did set out to indulge himself with a visit to San Francisco, where he quickly spent his gold on fine vodka, fine living, and a particularly fine lady. My mother. She was the daughter of an English aristocrat on holiday with her family."

  "Wow," Lori breathed. "It sounds so romantic."

  "I suppose that it was. But not entirely. You see, despite my father's own title and newfound wealth, my mother's parents were highly opposed to the liaison. They insisted she return to England and marry posthaste the proper suitor she was enga
ged to. Defying them, she secretly married my father and ran away with him to Alaska. By the time Mother's family found her, living in a rude shelter—Juneau wasn't even a tent city yet—she was with child. Me. Her father disowned her. He left with a shattered jaw, compliments of my father."

  "Whew. That must have been one doozy of a fight."

  "Yes. Needless to say, when I found my way to my grandfather's doorstep, he was less than gracious in his welcome to 'the Russian's bastard' as he so fondly referred to me. I was around the age of ten at the time."

  "What a horrible thing to say to a child!"

  He likened Lori's outrage to that of Attu. Attu, who had saved his life, seen him to safety in England rather than the much closer realm of Russia. No living grandparents, uncles, or aunts were there. Just distant cousins who would surely have shown more compassion than the grandfather and an assortment of relations in London, the lot of them proving about as warm as a winter drizzle shrouded in fog.

  Noble let go a single, harsh laugh. "Ah well, I've gotten ahead of myself. This being a distasteful chapter in the book of my life, I'll get it over and done with swiftly. Prior to throwing myself on my grandfather's untender mercies, I had enjoyed a good life. My father built the grandest house possible on our land. He saw to it that we had servants—Aleutians—and an imported tutor so I might have a proper education. Of course he couldn't do all this without it becoming apparent that he had struck a rich vein of gold. Consequently, we lived with the threat of attack."

  "Is that how you ended up at your grandfather's?"

  Noble gave a curt nod and wished fiercely for the cognac.

  "Will you tell me about it?" she asked gently.

  "Regretfully, Lori, I cannot. Perhaps another time, but for now suffice it to say... what I witnessed was a waking nightmare. It was a miracle that I escaped butchery myself—a miracle I have Attu to thank for. He was more than my personal servant, Attu was my mentor and most trusted friend. It grieves me, wondering what became of him, whether he lived into old age and prospered or suffered an unkind fate."

  Lori nodded in understanding. "If you'd like, we can go to the library and see if there are any old newspapers, maybe try to find out that way."

  He would go, Noble determined. But it had to be a private search, lest some details about his crimes emerged in antiquated print, linking him to Attu. Dear Attu, who may very well have lost his life because of him.

  "I think it better not to know." A lie but a necessary one. "I'd rather imagine the best than discover the worst and be powerless to champion him should he have met a dire end."

  "I'm sorry, so sorry I had to be the one to tell you about him being gone." Her eyes glistened with the tears Noble longed to cry himself for Attu's loss. But he had learned not to cry long ago, the value of "keeping a stiff upper lip" beat into him by his grandfather, who had wielded an unerringly cruel cane.

  "And I am glad it was you who told me. As difficult as this transition has been for me, it could not have been much easier for you. I cringe whenever I think of how badly I took the shock. Actually turning my gun on you and calling you a demon of the dark—" Recalling it, he shuddered. "I am truly sorry for that. But just as it was with the overtaking of my family's land, what is done is done. The best one can do is get on with living and come to terms with what cannot be reversed, as best one can."

  "The uneasy peace," she whispered, sliding her fingers between his and clasping his hand. "You said you'd made yours with the path you were compelled to follow. I'd really tike to know what that path was, Noble."

  He would tell her a bit of it, but not all. Not until he earned her trust and won her heart so completely, even his past crimes could not tear them apart. Lori's heart, yes, that was what he wanted. To win it was a purpose more pure than and just as worthy as the one he had lost.

  "The road was long," he said crisply, "and anything but straight and narrow. I was a rather wayward youth, giving my grandfather the worst grief I could. I preferred untitled friends to titled; dallied with, shall we say, women who were splendidly raucous, when, in truth, I was secretly taken with the ways of more gentle-born ladies, who possessed those traits I had so admired in my mother. All the while I did my best to do poorly in school. But in the end I proved myself quite capable in the study of law. Much to my grandfather's delight. He was, after all, a member of Parliament—"

  "Parliament!"

  "Ah, so you're impressed."

  "Of course I am. Who wouldn't be?"

  "Me." Noble smiled at the memory. "I took my greatest revenge on the old man by refusing to accept his offer to groom me for an appointment myself. Instead, I left the esteemed practice where I had been employed and returned, with Attu, to Juneau. By then I was well into my twenties and certain of my ability to see justice done with the silver saber of my tongue. Alas, I was mistaken. My attempts to bring to trial those men, who were rich, having laid claim to my rightful land, were laughed at. They fairly ran me out on a rail."

  "That's terrible," Lori breathed. "Worse than terrible. It's about the most unfair thing I've ever heard in my life."

  "I couldn't agree more." Though she supported his feelings, he doubted she would support the means by which he had sought his ultimate justice. He might get sympathy, but it was empathy he was after. His own for Lori was great. Much of what he'd unconsciously absorbed, the unguarded whole of her life, was coming back to him.

  He'd been granted a rare privilege, and he honored it with a respectful silence. The whole of his life he kept silent as well, respecting the choices he had made while he longed for the day he could divulge them to Lori.

  This was not the day.

  "What happened after that?" she pressed, her voice a mixture of compassion and curiosity.

  Carefully, he answered, "Attu and I took up residence in Skagway. Though it was dangerous, I did return to Juneau a few times, but always at night and incognito."

  "So that's why you were so concerned with your whereabouts at first." At his nod, she frowned, puzzled. "Okay, now I understand what you meant about me keeping your secrets safe and it explains you having two identities. But what I don't get is why you'd risk coming back to Juneau when you had enemies here."

  "It's really quite simple, my dear." He leaned close. "Pride. Not to return would have been an admission of defeat. And of cowardice. I am no more a coward than I am a quitter. Or a fool. Hence, the precaution of disguise and the gun I'd learned to shoot rather well, a better protection than law books could provide.

  "So there you have it, Lori," Noble concluded. "And now that I am done telling my tale, I will exact my price for it." He watched as she nervously wet her lips, which whetted his appetite to consume them with a fury.

  Noble swept aside their cups and gripped the lapel of her robe. A small jerk and he traced her lips with his tongue.

  "My kiss, Lori. I would have that kiss from you now."

  "O-okay," she stammered. "But just a kiss. That's all."

  Noble laughed softly. "Could it be you might actually have as much to learn from me as I have to learn from you?"

  "No doubt," she answered, her breath coming shallow and fast. "But what does that have to do with a kiss?"

  "Only everything, my dear." He nipped her bottom lip. "I've yet to well and truly kiss you. Though I daresay, once I do, you'll realize any real kiss from me will never be 'just a kiss.'"

  Chapter 10

  Lori glanced at the clock: 2:00 a.m. She tossed and turned another half hour before slinging aside the covers. While she paced she worried her still-swollen lips.

  Damn Noble. Damn him anyway. By no stretch of the imagination was that a kiss he'd given her. Kisses stayed on the lips and even involved one tongue getting turned on by another. But a kiss did not include a man's slow and deliberate roving over a woman's neck, ears, and the cleavage he exposed with his teeth to the bodice of her nightgown.

  Lori wiped her forehead. Sweating, she was still sweating. But surely any woman would be sweati
ng for days after a kiss that gave new meaning to extended foreplay—only, if Noble considered that a kiss, what in heaven's name did he consider foreplay?

  Lori felt her knees go weak, her inner thighs quiver just wondering. And remembering. Remembering how he'd pressed her down on the table, her protests a sequence of moans as she'd pulled him on top of her. And there she'd writhed among peanut butter and crunched the crackers with her back, not even realizing what she was doing until Noble drew away.

  He'd left her there on the table, speechless, as she watched him pick up the mess on the floor. That done, he had gone to the refrigerator, taken out a variety of vegetables and a package of chicken.

  And then in the most polite tone he had informed her, "in exchange for your hospitality, I'll assume a variety of tasks. Actually, I'm a fairly decent cook—a matter of survival, since I never took a wife." When she simply stared at him, he came to her and pulled her robe together. "No need for you to linger, I can find my way about without assistance. Once dinner is prepared, I'll call you to join me," he said with a gracious smile.

  She left, still searching for words that wouldn't come.

  By the time he rang a bell—a leftover from Christmas she'd never gotten around to storing with her mishmash of ornaments—her tongue still refused to function. His own, however, appeared to be in fine shape. Over a candlelight dinner, her best china set out on the tablecloth she used for special occasions, he had glibly related several stories about the misadventures of his youth, interrupted only by his questions of concern.

  "You don't care for the salad? Ah, I see, the salad is fine but you prefer 'Diet Ranch' over vinegar and oil... Is there something wrong with the dinner? Too many onions, too little gravy... Neither, is it? Then why don't you eat what I prepared? Not hungry, you say? We'll see about that. Voila! I saved the best for last. Behold, dessert."