Lynette Vinet Read online

  Damon Alexander was now his partner in the mine. Shamus loved him like a son, but he confided to Eden he was still lonely sometimes. Shamus’s eyes twinkled when he took Eden’s hand in his. “At least I was lonely until I met you, pretty Eden.” He gently touched the reddish-gold strands of her hair and smiled nervously. “Would you consider becoming my wife?”

  She never thought Shamus would want to marry her. In fact, she’d never considered him as a husband. She cared for him, was more than fond of him, but she didn’t love him like a potential wife should love a husband. Before she could refuse, Shamus’s face grew very serious. He told her he didn’t expect their marriage to be a “normal” one. It couldn’t be. He was ill, and had come to San Francisco to meet with a doctor he thought might be able to help him. But the doctor had told him his illness was progressive and he didn’t have much time left.

  Shamus looked so healthy and robust that Eden was shocked, unable to believe such a diagnosis, but he assured her it was true. He was going to die, and he didn’t want to die alone.

  “I know I’m asking a lot of you, Eden, but I love you and I think you care for me. We’ve both had our share of grief in the world, so we understand each other. I don’t expect to be a husband in the biblical sense to you,” he’d hastily blurted out. “I wish to heaven that I could, but, well … I’d be content just to have you near me. I don’t trust anyone but Damon or you. I’ll never see Damon again, and … and I don’t want anybody else caring for me but you.” His warm, laughing eyes suddenly grew misty. “I’d be most grateful if you’d consider looking after me until the end. As my wife, all my wealth will be yours. And my part in the mine, too.” Shamus squeezed her hand. “I know what it is to want something of your own, Eden. I can give you that.”

  Eden’s lips turned pale. “You’re making it sound like a business arrangement instead of a marriage—as if you’re buying a wife who’s waiting for you to die. I can’t, Shamus. I won’t.”

  But in the end she changed her mind because Shamus needed her. She never regretted her decision. He became her whole existence, replacing the family she’d lost. More than once he’d grabbed her hand at the times she knew he felt most ill and shot her a warning glance. “Don’t be gettin’ too attached to me, my darlin’,” he advised with a wink. “Promise me after I’m gone you’ll head to New Zealand to claim your share. Do that for me.” He grew so agitated that Eden always assured him she would do as he asked.

  His end was peaceful. She held up well through his burial. It was only weeks later, after she’d written to Damon Alexander telling him about her marriage to Shamus and Shamus’s subsequent death and informing Alexander she’d be departing for New Zealand to claim her part in Thunder Mine, that she truly realized Shamus was gone.

  LaRue, who had become her friend, paid a call and found her weeping. The woman comforted her when Eden told her through blinding tears that she hadn’t done enough for Shamus. He’d left his wealth to her and she didn’t deserve it. LaRue gave Eden a motherly hug. “Don’t be silly, dear. Shamus knew what he was doing. I knew him on and off for fifteen years and found him to be a sensible man. Believe that he wanted you to have his money and the mine. Why else would he be so insistent about your going to New Zealand to claim your share?”

  Eden wondered about that, too. She could easily own part of Thunder Mine and enjoy its yield without having to travel thousands of miles. But she’d promised Shamus, and suddenly she wanted to go. She was glad she’d written Alexander of her imminent arrival. Something tangible waited for her in New Zealand, something which belonged to her, and she was bound and determined to claim it.

  She went ahead with her plans to leave, not giving an extra thought to what Damon Alexander would say.

  Chapter 2

  Damon Alexander had a great deal to say about Eden Flynn, and none of it was complimentary. He sat in the Greenstone Saloon with Nick Patterson, a middle-aged miner friend of Shamus’s, while his arm hugged the waist of a comely creature named Bella.

  To Damon, women like Bella, who wore rouge on their faces and dressed in skimpy, cheap gowns, were good for only one thing. Having been at Thunder Mine for months, he felt the need to indulge in good whiskey and the stirring kisses of a bought woman when he came into town. When he left, he’d put the doxy from his mind—until the next time. But while he was here in town, he wanted a good time and was not about to stop his fun to escort his uncle’s widow to the mine. From what he’d learned about Eden Flynn, she was no better than Bella.

  “You’re being unfair to the lady,” Nick admonished over the high, whining notes of the player piano. “Mrs. Flynn has been in Queenstown for two weeks, waiting for you to fetch her, and here you’ve been for five days, not lifting a finger to see her. Shamus would be ashamed of you.”

  Damon did feel ashamed for ignoring the Widow Flynn, but he swallowed his shame with a large swig of whiskey. “I told you what she is.”

  “What is she?” chirped Bella, playfully squeezing the bulge in Damon’s trousers.

  He hadn’t thought Bella was following his conversation with Nick and he was irritated. Women like Bella should do only what they were paid to do and not interrupt or offer opinions about other matters. “Nothing you need to know, love. Be a good girl and get me another whiskey.”

  Bella applied more pressure to his crotch and smiled. “Why don’t you join me upstairs instead?”

  Damon nodded, more than aroused and ready for Bella’s pleasuring. However, he knew he’d have to finish his conversation with Nick.

  Both men watched Bella walk away from the table, their eyes following her well-proportioned figure. Nick whistled. “That one’s a wildcat all right.”

  “Aye, but like all whores, maybe she only pretends to like it.”

  “That’s the reason a man pays for the likes of her,” Nick sagely pronounced with a knowing smile. “Decent women aren’t supposed to like it, so with the naughty ones there are no surprises and lots of fun. But, Damon, my lad, Bella and her kind aren’t deaf and certainly not mute. You’d best be careful what you say and how you say it.”

  Damon’s eyes glinted like blue frost. “Bella’s a whore just like that bitch my uncle married. I told you one of Shamus’s mates saw the woman with him in San Francisco in that place she worked. LaRue’s. If not for that information, I wouldn’t know anything about the gold-digging tart. Shamus didn’t see the need to write and tell me he’d gotten married.” Damon clenched his hand into a fist. “He was probably too humiliated to admit he’d made a mistake.”

  “I doubt that. Shamus and I were friends for many years, and he wasn’t one to be taken in by a pretty face.”

  “No? Then explain why she’s staying in one of Queenstown’s fanciest hotels, paying her way with money she wheedled out of my uncle by marrying him. She wants to collect her share of Thunder Mine, which should have been all mine but for that fortune huntress.”

  “You’re jumping to conclusions, lad.”

  “Hah!” Damon spat out with such a vehemence that Nick jumped. “She is young enough to have been his daughter. Tell me she married him because she loved him!”

  “Maybe she did. You’re letting your past experiences color your reason. Why don’t you just go introduce yourself to the lady?”

  Rising suddenly, Damon knocked over his chair. Beneath the wide brim of his hat, his dark hair hung in shaggy strands on his forehead. “Because she’s as much of a lady as the whore who’s waiting upstairs for me. And you’re right in saying my past is coloring my reason. I’m an expert when it comes to whores.”

  “Tessa’s gone, Damon,” Nick reminded him. “Forget her and live your life. Find a good woman—”

  Damon’s painful laugh interrupted Nick. “Aye, mate, I’d do that if one existed, but a woman might seem to be virtuous, might claim she loves you, but like all women, she’s after only one thing: money. I learned the hard way, and I won’t be learning that same lesson again.”

  “What are you g
oing to do about Mrs. Flynn?” Nick persisted when Damon started to walk away.

  Not halting his stride up the stairs, Damon called over his shoulder, “She’ll wait until I’m ready to see her.”

  Stroking the gray stubble on his chin, Nick mumbled under his breath. “Not if I have a say in the matter.”

  ~~~

  “Begging your pardon, Mrs. Flynn, but I’m Nick Patterson, an old friend of your husband’s. Do you mind if I join you?”

  Eden gestured to the chair next to hers in the hotel dining room. Nick Patterson wasn’t dressed as elegantly as some of the men seated around them, but Eden found herself instantly liking him. He mopped his furrowed brow with a red-checkered bandanna. “Been mighty warm lately,” he noted and smiled.

  Agreeing that indeed it had been warm, Eden ordered an iced tea for him and quelled her urge to laugh when his first hesitant sip produced a screwed-up face. It was evident that Nick wasn’t a tea drinker. “Perhaps you’d rather have a beer or a whiskey, Mr. Patterson.”

  “Oh, no, ma’am. This is just dandy.”

  Eden knew he was lying, but let the matter pass. “So, you knew my husband…”

  Nick’s face brightened. “Aye, I did. A finer man I’ve never met. And may I say that old Shamus did right well by you, too. You’re the prettiest thing Queenstown has seen.”

  Eden was used to men telling her she was pretty, but Nick’s compliment was so clearly heartfelt, her cheeks dimpled. “I’d say I was the one who did well, Mr. Patterson. My husband was an extraordinary man. I still miss him, even more so since my arrival in Queenstown. He spoke so often about the town that I feel as if I’ve seen it many times.”

  “Queenstown was Shamus’s favorite place,” Nick agreed. “Except for Thunder Mine. I never saw a man take to mining the way Shamus did. He had a natural-born instinct for it, almost as if he could smell gold. His nephew does, too. That’s why they made such a good team.”

  At the mention of Damon Alexander, Eden stiffened. “I sent word to Mr. Alexander of my arrival but so far he hasn’t responded. Am I to assume he’s ill?”

  Nick shifted uncomfortably in his seat and sipped the tea. “No, ma’am. Damon’s well and hearty.”

  “Then you’ve seen him. Did he receive my message? The hotel clerk assured me he had.”

  “Aye, he got the message. The fact is I delivered it to him.”

  Eden assessed Nick’s troubled face. “Mr. Alexander isn’t coming to Queenstown for me?”

  “Oh, he intends to take you to Thunder Mine, truly, he does. Why, he’s been here for a number of days, but pressing business—”

  “Please don’t make excuses for the man’s rudeness,” she interrupted. “It’s quite clear that I’m being ignored. Except for you, Mr. Patterson, I’d wonder if all men in Queenstown were so ill-mannered.” She couldn’t help remembering the man who’d knocked her down earlier that day. She found herself trembling from Alexander’s slight, unused to being purposely ignored. Her voice possessed a brittle edge when she asked, “Where is he staying?”

  “Uh … you don’t want to know that. He knows you’re here and he’ll be coming—”

  “Where is he?” she persisted.

  Perspiration popped out anew on Nick’s brow. This wasn’t what he’d had in mind when he’d decided to find Eden Flynn. He felt he needed to look after Shamus’s wife, to let her know Damon hadn’t slighted her—which the young pup surely had, though there was no need for her to know that. But he could see she was on to him. He could also tell she was a proper lady, nothing like what Damon believed her to be.

  He couldn’t stop the mischievous grin which tugged at the edges of his mouth. Maybe this was one female Damon should meet, and meet soon. She wouldn’t be so easily wooed with his good looks; and since she didn’t appear to be the whore Damon had described, then she wouldn’t jump into bed with him, either. Maybe the arrogant fellow would finally meet his match. “He’s staying at the Greenstone Saloon,” Nick told her.

  Eden threw down her napkin on the table and stood. “Will you be so kind to escort me there?”

  Nick shook his head. “I’ll tell him I saw you. You don’t want to go there, Mrs. Flynn.”

  “Why not?”

  Licking his lips, Nick found his mouth had gone suddenly dry. “It’s not a fit place for a lady.”

  Eden laughed. “If you mean it’s a brothel, sir, then I assure you that I’ve worked at the notorious LaRue’s in San Francisco. Whorehouses don’t bother me.” Nick’s face fell, prompting Eden to take his arm. “I trust my nephew will be pleased to see me,” she said in a silky southern accent as she led a tongue-tied Nick away.

  Damon Alexander wouldn’t make a fool of her! If he thought he could keep her cooling her heels while he bided his time with a Queenstown whore, he was sadly wrong. He probably believes I won’t hunt him down, Eden thought, digging her nails into Nick’s arm.

  “Ow! You’re hurting me,” Nick complained.

  “I’m sorry.’’

  “This is a bad idea, Mrs. Flynn.”

  “No, it’s a good idea, Mr. Patterson. Damon Alexander won’t dictate to me. I won’t let the man insult me.”

  After walking down the dusty thoroughfare for almost three blocks, they crossed the street to stand at the back entrance of the Greenstone Saloon. The whining notes of the piano mingled with the boisterous voices of the men inside. “I’ll go fetch him for you,” Nick offered.

  Eden halted him with a gloved hand on his arm. She looked very much the lady in the prim blue bonnet and matching gown she’d changed into after that afternoon’s mishap with the obnoxious, insulting man. “I’m going with you. I refuse to wait out here.”

  “Begging your pardon, Mrs. Flynn, but you don’t want to go inside, either. There’s no telling what you might see. Go back to the hotel while I speak to Damon.”

  “I assure you that I’ve seen quite a bit in my time and won’t be shocked. Now take me to Mr. Alexander.”

  Nick’s eyes narrowed and he said thoughtfully, “Maybe Damon was right.”

  “Right about what?”

  “Nothing.” Nick shrugged, and gestured Eden toward the back stairs.

  A wooden door at the top of the stairs opened with a creak. Eden found herself in a darkened hallway with doors on both sides. The heat was stifling. Perspiration trickled between her breasts from the warmth and her own daring. What was she doing in this place anyway? Had her good sense fled along with her pride? Why did it matter if Damon Alexander snubbed her? But somehow it did and the snub hurt. She needed to prove to him that she wouldn’t be placed in the position of helpless female. She owned part of Thunder Mine and Damon Alexander would have to accept that.

  “Which room is his?” she asked Nick, who followed closely behind her.

  Nick stopped before a closed door.

  For a second, Eden hesitated to knock. Perhaps she should follow Nick’s advice and have him speak to Alexander while she returned to the hotel. On the verge of leaving, she changed her mind when a deep male laugh, followed by a feminine squeal, wafted through the wood paneling.

  It was as she’d thought. Alexander was playing while he’d kept her waiting for days. Her supple and soft mouth grew hard and rigid. She wasn’t about to leave.

  Knocking hard upon the door, Eden at first wondered if anyone had heard. “This is a mistake,” Nick mumbled in agonized tones. “I shouldn’t have let you come here.”

  “I’m here, and Alexander is going to answer if I have to stand here all day.” Once again, she pounded resolutely upon the door until the laughter ceased.

  “Who in bloody hell is it?” demanded a masculine voice from behind the door.

  Eden took a deep breath, the sweetness of her own voice belying her anger. “It’s Mrs. Shamus Flynn, Mr. Alexander.”

  She heard a sudden and strained silence, then a vicious curse accompanying the thudding of feet hitting the floor. When the door was thrown open, Eden couldn’t help but gape at the powerful
ly built man whose naked chest glistened with sweat, a sheet unceremoniously draping his lower body. Dark tendrils of hair fell wantonly across his forehead. Eyes filled with blue fire swept angrily over Eden before widening in stunned surprise. A frown turned down the corners of his sensual mouth. “Dammit! It’s you.”

  Eden found herself taken aback, not only by the man’s nerve in answering the door draped in a sheet but by who he was—the very man who’d knocked her down earlier that day. She nearly groaned aloud.

  “Watch your language, Damon,” Nick scolded before she could say anything. “Mrs. Flynn is a lady.”

  “So, she’s gotten to you, too,” Damon mumbled. “You’re as hopeless as my uncle. Why did you bring her here, Nick?”

  “Don’t blame Mr. Patterson.” Eden quickly came to Nick’s defense. “I insisted he escort me here to see you, but if I’d known you were Shamus’s nephew, I’d still have come.” The defiance shining within the depths of her eyes hid her embarrassment at finding him in a state of undress. “I’ve been in Queenstown for some days, as you well know, sir. I’m ready to leave for Thunder Mine and wait only for you to take me there. And to be frank, I think you’ve been incredibly rude to keep me waiting.”

  He tilted his head to the side. His eyes perused her from the top of her hat to her slippered feet, then up again to linger a bit too long on the gauzy white lace which primly covered the valley between her breasts. “Ah, a true lady you look to be,” he noted, and fixed his gaze on her face. “Such a well-spoken and polite lady you are in your anger. And you are angry, aren’t you? But you’re not going to say you are—just like all ‘proper ladies.’ “

  Eden didn’t like the derogatory way he spoke to her. It was evident that Damon Alexander disliked her, and she wondered why. She sensed he wanted to offend her. Could it be he didn’t want a woman as a partner? She knew many men didn’t think women belonged in business. But she wasn’t just any woman. She was Shamus Flynn’s wife, part owner of Thunder Mine and a woman with a good head for business. Damon Alexander would have to accept her, whether he wanted to or not. Still, he unnerved her with the strength of his partially nude body and the way his eyes raked over her. She clutched her reticule, willing herself to meet his insolent stare and get on with her mission.