An Outlaw To Protect Her

“I suppose it can, but in this instance it hasn’t.”

“How do you know?” he asked.

“Because Able has all the money he could want,” she explained.

Zane sat back as he mulled over her words. “He does have fine clothes. Satin waistcoats. Wool suits. I always thought it was part of the uniform required to work here. I didn’t realize that he was so well compensated.”

“It is a requirement of the position, but you’ve got it all wrong. He doesn’t simply work here. He’s part owner of Victoria House.” Correctly reading the shocked expression on his face, she said, “You’re surprised.”

“A little.”

“It’s understandable. Everyone assumes I’m the sole owner and we let them think that because it’s easier. When we first arrived here... Well, let’s just say that I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Able.” That was an understatement. She’d be dead by now if not for Able. It was because of him that she’d left South Carolina and ended up in Helena, though the Helena part had been serendipity. “Able and I worked hard together to make Victoria House what it is today. When the madam retired she left it to us both.”

While Glory kept up the running of the business side of things, Able took care of the house itself. He knew everyone in it and where they were at any given time. He made sure there was never any trouble with the patrons. The letter must be a particular sore spot for him since it had appeared on his watch.

Zane studied her for a minute. There was no doubt that he was merely trying to read her expression, but she couldn’t help but wonder what he thought when he looked at her. She stilled for his visual perusal but felt her cheeks go warm. Finally he took pity on her and glanced back down at the letter. She had to stop herself from letting out an audible breath of relief.

“The sender mentioned knowing your real name.” Zane paused, but she didn’t say a word. If he wanted to ask her about her real name, she wouldn’t make it easy for him. Not that she’d tell him. The corner of his mouth ticked up as if he realized what she was doing. “Does Able also have a real name?” he asked, apparently deciding not to rise to her challenge.

She nearly laughed to herself, starting to enjoy this play between the two of them. “He does. We never really intended to stay in Helena. The stagecoach we were traveling on had a broken axle. We managed to make it as far as the station, but there’d been another silver strike, so the driver ran off to make his fortune. Apparently so had every other man in town, because the madam came down to the station asking for any able-bodied men to help repair her leaky roof.”

She did smile then, remembering how afraid she’d been that they had nowhere to go and their funds had been dwindling. They’d come a long way since then. “Able stood up and declared himself, well, able. So Able he became. She took us in after that. Thank God she did. We had nowhere else to go.”

“And you became Glory?” He gestured toward her hair.

She inclined her head. The madam had taken one look at her dark red hair and called it her crowning glory. Many of the patrons had started referring to it that way as well, so the name Glory had stuck.

“And no one else knows your real name except Able?” he concluded.

“Able didn’t leave this letter.”

Zane gave a hesitant nod, as if not quite willing to give up that line of questioning, but realizing it wouldn’t get him anywhere at the moment. She nearly smiled again. Let him stew. The one thing she knew with certainty in this whole mess was that Able wasn’t responsible for the letter. Extortion wasn’t in his character.

“Do you think it could be someone else from Victoria House?” he asked.

“I hate to think so. We’re like a family here. My ladies are loyal.”

“And you’re certain none of them know who you are?”

“None of them know,” she said quietly. “Only Able.”

“Well, I suppose that’s it then. We’ll see what we can find out from the staff tomorrow.” He clapped his hands to his knees and made to stand.

“What happens now?” she asked. If they were done with questions, she needed to go back downstairs to finish work for the night. The singer she’d hired for the evening should be almost ready to go on. “I have work to do, but you’re welcome to go collect your things and move them to my suite.”

He gave a shake of his head and a slow smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “I go where you go.”

“What?” Her eyes widened. She knew what she thought he meant, but surely he didn’t actually mean that.

“I don’t trust whoever left this not to try to get to you. Able or I need to be with you at all times.”

His words nearly knocked the wind out of her. “At all times? Even in my own house?”

His smile widened as if he was enjoying this. “Get used to me, Glory. I’m going to be around. A lot.”

Sweet Lord above, she was in trouble.

* * *

The main lounge was the largest room in the house. It had been intended as a ballroom with a large chandelier gracing the ceiling in the center of the sizable space, flanked by two smaller ones on either side. They were the only original feature of the house left behind when the owner had sold it to the previous madam. The slivers of faceted glass, not crystal, flickered in the light of hundreds of candles, making it look like crystal. When the town had changed over to electricity several years earlier, Glory had opted not to change the chandelier. She loved the antique feel. Sometimes she closed her eyes and imagined she was in a grand London ballroom and a handsome gentleman would sweep her up into a waltz. But then she’d open her eyes to realize she was in Helena, where the gentlemen were in short supply. They might say all the right words, but they were all only interested in things that sparkled—gold, silver and copper—and she couldn’t afford to forget that. Maybe that’s how all men became once they reached a certain level of wealth. She couldn’t honestly say for sure. She’d lived in her cocoon at Victoria House since she was sixteen.

The one thing she did know for sure was that even if a proper gentleman from London were to walk in, he’d have little interest in a brothel madam. Well, little interest beyond the physical. Not that it mattered to her. She’d had her chance at marriage and it hadn’t worked out. Now she knew that it wasn’t something that interested her. She liked her independence too much to ever give it up. It meant a lot of lonely nights, but the payoff was worth it.

The song ended, bringing Glory back to the present as the room broke out into polite applause. She smiled as she took to the dais to thank Sally and address the crowd. “I’d like to extend my thanks once again to Mrs. Sally Roarke for gracing our little corner of the world with her beautiful voice.”

The older lady inclined her head, and the men applauded again coupled with a few suggestive whistles. Sally was a favorite at Victoria House and made the trip about twice a year from St. Louis where she lived. None of the men seemed to realize she was the same Mary Walker who had worked here years before Glory had taken over.

When Sally had given a curtsy and waved her way out, Glory addressed the room again. “That’s all the entertainment for the night, gentlemen. The house will be closing soon, so please make your final drink selections.”

There were ten women working upstairs tonight. Most of them seemed to have already found patrons for the evening, but a couple were talking to men in the lounge. When Glory had taken over she’d brought in plush sofas and divans worthy of her previous life on a plantation. She’d also scattered tables throughout to encourage conversation, which encouraged drink sales.

“What if my final selection includes you?” A disembodied male voice called from a table of men in the far corner.

Glory didn’t pay him any attention as she left the small stage. It wasn’t unusual for the random man here or there to try to buy her time, though it was common knowledge that she wasn’t for sale. Instead of replying, she focused on speaking to the few regulars in the audience. It was her ritual. She’d thank them for coming out, make conversation and move on to the next table, working the room before she retired for the evening.

She had never been as aware of another person as she was aware of Zane lurking in the background as she worked. He hadn’t imposed or even really made his presence known. He’d taken a seat out of the way to blend in with the other customers, and he’d been a fixture in the house all week so no one even noticed him, but she could feel him. His gaze was like the lightest of weights pressing into her skin, massaging over her and leaving her warm and tingly in ways that were equally as disturbing as they were pleasurable. She didn’t know what to do with the sensation, so she settled on ignoring it in the hopes that it would go away.

It never really did though, and as she made her way upstairs to retire for the night, she knew without looking that he’d followed her out the door. His large presence followed her up the stairs and down the hallway. She felt him pause behind her as she unlocked her door. Her eyes drifted shut as she took in his scent, a mix of leather and man. She couldn’t describe it other than that. He smelled rugged and dangerous and it was all appealing in a very confusing way.

Pushing her door open, she stepped inside and held it for him. She managed to give him a small smile that she hoped was welcoming. It was so odd to have a man in her private suite. Able was the only man in recent memory she could remember ever being inside.

“Do you really think this is necessary?” she asked when she’d closed the door behind him and locked it. He was already across the room, checking the bathing chamber and her bedroom for the anonymous letter writer.

“Yes,” was all he said.

Finished prowling for strangers lurking in the shadows of her bedroom, he walked back over to her. His brow was furrowed and his shoulders seemed stiff. “Do men always talk to you that way?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“That ass who wanted to...” His jaw clenched as if he couldn’t bring himself to say the words.

“You mean the man who wanted to take me upstairs.” Some small part of her warmed at the thought of him being upset about the question. It was an unreasonable way to feel. She and Zane meant nothing to each other, so he had no reason to feel upset about it. But still, it was nice to have his concern. “It’s part of the job.” She shrugged.

The muscle in his jaw worked as he looked away. It was clear that he didn’t like that part of the job.

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 to herself. 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 or the fact that she was in charge, and, most important, he never made her feel like he was insulting her or disrespecting her. Perhaps that was 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 his larger 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.

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