Forbidden Read online

She turned to glare at him but the ghost of a smile playing across his lips made hers peep out of its own accord. “You are no gentleman.” She slowly climbed back onto the bed and fell back. “Mercy.” She felt like something newly born.

  “Learned your lesson?”

  “Probably not.” After catching her breath, she angled her head his way. “I’ve worked six days a week since I was twelve years old, and I’ve never been bedridden in my life. This lying around is hard for me.”

  “Your recovery will take longer if you don’t let your body rebuild its strength.”

  Frustrated, she turned her eyes to the ceiling and blew out a breath. “I suppose.”

  “Are you hungry?”

  “Famished.”

  “That’s probably a good sign. Jim’s in the kitchen. I’ll be bringing you breakfast shortly.”

  “Thank you.”

  “In the meantime, let’s get you a fresh shirt.”

  She watched him open the large wooden wardrobe. The number of shirts hanging inside was impressive and spoke to his wealth. He took down one and a dressing gown and walked them over to her.

  Sitting up, she took the garments from his hand. “May I have a basin and some soap so I can wash up a bit before I put these on?”

  “Would you like me to run you a bath?”

  “I’d love a bath, but as weak as I am, I’m likely to slip beneath the water and drown.” The dream she’d had of being in a tub swam up from her memory, but she refused to share it. He didn’t need to know he’d been in the dream and she didn’t need any whispering this morning.

  “I’ll get you the basin.”

  He returned promptly with a pitcher of warm water, a clean porcelain basin, soap and towels. He set everything on the bedside table.

  “Thank you. This shouldn’t take long.”

  “I’ll be back with your breakfast in about thirty minutes. Enough time?”

  She nodded.

  Once she was as clean as washing in a basin would allow, she donned his shirt and then the dressing gown. It was made of black silk and the most expensive article of clothing she’d ever worn. She rolled back the too long sleeves then ran her hand over her hair. It was such a mess. She wished she could do something about it but doubted he’d have anything she could use to dress it, so she’d have to let it be until she moved into the boardinghouse. Waiting for him to return, she picked up the small jar of aloe, undid the lid, and sniffed the contents. Finding it pleasant enough, she rubbed some on her face and pushed up the sleeves to do the same with the skin on her arms and hands. Her blistered hands ached, and if this would help dull the pain, she was all for it. She was recapping the jar when he entered. The Colored man with him made her pause.

  “Eddy Carmichael. This is my business partner James Dade.” Although she had expected the partner to be White, he was a tall muscular dark-­skinned man with a kind smile.

  She nodded shyly. “Good morning. Pleased to meet you.” She did her best not to think about how appalled her late mother would be knowing she was entertaining two men while in bed.

  “Same here,” Dade replied. “Thought I’d come up and see how you were faring. Rhine says you’re feeling better?”

  “I am. Thank you for the rescue and for feeding me. The food has been delicious.”

  “I appreciate that. I don’t get many compliments about my food around here. People usually eat and leave without so much as a howdy-­do.” And he threw his partner a meaningful glance.

  Rhine countered, “I compliment you on your food all the time.”

  “He’s lying of course, but that’s neither here nor there.”

  She liked Jim Dade. “Maybe when I get back on my feet I can repay you by cooking for you.”

  “You’re a cook?”

  “I am.”

  “So that’s why you had that brazier with you when we found you.”

  “Yes.”

  Fontaine asked, “Would you care to have company for breakfast? Jim and I would like to join you, but if you prefer to be alone . . . ?”

  “I know it isn’t considered proper, but your company would be welcomed.”

  When Jim exited to go get the food, Rhine tore his eyes away from the sight of her swathed in his black dressing gown and concentrated on placing chairs around the small table. “Would you like to join us at the table or eat where you are?” He was glad Jim would be joining them for the meal because he needed the buffer.

  “The table, please.”

  He made a move to cross the room to carry her the short distance but she put up a hand to stay him. “No. I can make it by myself.”

  Admiring her single-­minded determination, he nodded. “Whatever the lady wants.”

  Draped in the too large dressing gown, she slowly made the short walk to the table and sat down. “See?” she said, showing him a small smile of triumph.

  “You are moving better.”

  “Still not as well as I’d like though.”

  “Give yourself time.”

  “Patience is not one of my virtues.”

  “I sensed that.”

  She cut him a look but there was a smile in it.

  He sat and asked one of the questions foremost in his mind, “So why California? Do you have family there?”

  “No. I was hoping for a fresh start. There was nothing for me in Denver. I’d like to own a restaurant, and from what I’ve been reading in the newspapers, California seems the place to try. I know I’ll probably have to work for years doing something else like cooking or scrubbing floors until I can save enough money, but I’m not afraid of hard work.”

  The more Rhine learned about her the more impressive he found her to be. An urge to offer her the funds she needed rose up so intensely inside it almost spilled from his lips, but he knew she wouldn’t accept so he asked instead, “Did your family in Denver try to dissuade you?”

  She shook her head. “My parents are dead. They died in a snowstorm when I was twelve. I have a younger sister, but she and I are estranged.”

  “My condolences on both.”

  “Thank you.”

  “So you set out not knowing anyone?”

  “Yes. Do you find that odd?”

  “Frankly, yes. I don’t know many women who’d strike out that way alone.” His sister Sable had set out towards her future alone, too. He thought she and Eddy might be cut from the same cloth and would probably get along. He just wished he knew where she was.

  “I was doing fine on the journey until I ran into Nash—­which I doubt is his true name.”

  “Whatever his name, the authorities will find him.”

  “I hope so. He had a little boy with him. He said he was taking the boy to an orphanage but I don’t know if that was the truth or not.”

  “I’ll let the sheriff know about the boy.”

  “Thank you.”

  Although they weren’t talking about weighty matters, Eddy was enjoying their conversation. Her initial fears about whether she’d be safe with him were all but dissolved but the need to leave was still keen. Memories of last night’s interaction returned, bringing with it the sensation of how time seemed to stand still while looking into his eyes, but it wasn’t something she needed to be thinking about. A quick glance his way found him viewing her so intently she was caught yet again. Breaking the contact so she could breathe, she asked, “How long have you lived in Virginia City?”

  “Since ’sixty-­six. Came west after the war.”

  “Where’s your home?”

  “Georgia.”

  “Do you have family there?”

  “Not anymore. I have a brother in San Francisco, and I lost track of my sister during the war. My parents are dead.”

  “My condolences.”

  He nodded.

  She knew that many families ha
d been torn apart during the war. Back in Denver she’d worked at the hotel with a man who’d spent two years walking across the South looking for his sold-­away children and wife but never found them. “Is your sister younger or older?”

  “Two years younger.” The smile in his eyes made her think he cared for her very much. Eddy wondered if he’d fought on the side of the Confederacy and if his family owned slaves. She didn’t ask. Such questioning was rude and he’d been incredibly kind to her. She didn’t want his reply to the slave owning question to be yes because it would undoubtedly change how she viewed him, kindness or not.

  Silence rose, and as it lengthened, Eddy searched for something else to talk about, only to have him ask, “Do you have a hobby or a favorite pastime?”

  “Yes. Sleeping,” she said with amusement.

  “Sleeping?”

  “I worked fourteen-­hour days. I’d go home, grab a bite to eat, and go straight to bed because I had to get up before sunrise and do it all over again. There wasn’t time for pastimes or amusements.”

  “I see.”

  She tried not to be moved by the gentle understanding he exuded and failed. “When my parents died, my sister and I had no other family. People from the church took up a small collection and they brought us food and wood, but they had children of their own and couldn’t afford such generosity for very long, so I hired myself out.” She thought back on how achingly weary she’d been day after day during that first year and how scary life had been. Her hands had cracked and bled from all the lye, and her knees had fared no better from being on them constantly, but her skin had toughened up and so had she.

  “It must have been hard.”

  “It was. In many ways it still is, but if I don’t work, I don’t eat. It’s pretty simple if you think about it.”

  He studied her silently for so long the air in the room seemed to still.

  “If you could have one wish, what would it be?” he asked.

  “To have two wishes.”

  He smiled at that. “Okay. What would they be?”

  “One, to have my own restaurant, and two, to have my nieces come and live with me. They’re my sister’s girls. Ages ten and twelve. Life’s very hard for them, too.” She wondered how they were doing. On the few occasions that she prayed, they were who she prayed for. “I love them very much.”

  “They’re back in Denver?”

  “Yes.”

  “I could loan you the funds to bring them out for a visit.”

  Eddy shook her head solemnly. “No. I appreciate the offer but you’ve done more than enough.”

  “If you change your mind—­”

  “I won’t, but thank you.”

  “Okay.”

  She was glad that he hadn’t pressed her. He’d gone above and beyond in his generosity. She already owed him a debt she’d never be able to repay. The situation with her nieces would be worked out once she got back on her feet. Her situation with him was another matter, however, and in spite of trying to keep her attraction to him at bay, she was as curious about him as he seemed to be about her. Jim returned then carrying a tray filled with covered dishes, and in a way she was grateful for something to concentrate on besides Rhine Fontaine.

  Once the food and tableware were distributed they dug in. Her plate held scrambled eggs, a piece of toast, two strips of bacon, and applesauce. Theirs had eggs, too, but they were accompanied by fragrant, steamed potatoes seasoned with peppers and onions, large fluffy biscuits running with butter and honey, and thick slices of ham. Eddy looked between her scant serving and their huge helpings and the men must have seen the question on her face because Fontaine explained, “Sylvie said to feed you lightly.”

  And before she could protest, Jim added, “And we are far more afraid of her than of you, little lady, so eat up.”

  Pouting and chuckling, she did as told.

  Which was a good thing because as they were finishing up a woman knocked on the opened door and walked in. “Good morning everyone. Eddy, I’m Sylvia Stewart. You must be feeling better.” She had caramel skin and was of medium height. Eddy guessed her to be middle-­aged, but like most women of color she wore her age well.

  “Good morning,” Eddy replied, smiling. “I’m pleased to meet you, and yes, I’m feeling much better. Mr. Fontaine and Dade were nice enough to eat with me and keep me company—­even though I know it isn’t proper.”

  She waved it off. “You’ll get no lecture from me. Have you been using the aloe?”

  “Yes, ma’am. It seems to be helping the pain.”

  “Then it’s working.”

  Fontaine said, “We may have found you a cook, Sylvie.” He inclined his head Eddy’s way.

  “You’re a cook, Eddy?”

  “Yes. Learned from my mother and spent most of my working life as one.”

  Sylvie clapped happily. “Hallelujah. But let’s get you on your feet first before we discuss that. We can move you in this evening. My boarder left last night, but I want to get the room aired out and cleaned up before turning it over to you. Do you think you’re well enough? My place isn’t far.”

  “Yes,” she said firmly, and shot a quick glance over at Fontaine and was snared by his expressionless eyes.

  “Rhine, can you drive her over after dark? Apparently word is already out about you and Jim rescuing her. When I went to Lady Ruby’s yesterday to get my eggs, she asked about it. I told her the young woman was at my place in my care.”

  Jim cracked, “No secrets in Virginia City.”

  Transferring his gaze from Eddy to Sylvia, Rhine replied, “I’m taking Natalie and her parents to dinner this evening, and then to Piper’s, but I’m free to help out when I return.”

  “Okay, good. I’m going to finish up my errands, Eddy, I will see you this evening.”

  “Thanks for taking me in.”

  “You’re very welcome.” With a wave she departed.

  Jim stood. “I need to get going, too, and start the day’s food. Miss Eddy, it’s been a pleasure.”

  “Likewise.”

  He nodded. “I’ll send up something for lunch later.”

  “Thank you.”

  He gathered up their used dishes, piled them back on the tray, and left her alone with Fontaine. Eddy wondered who Natalie might be and her relationship to Fontaine. Not that it was any of her business. “Thank you again for taking me in, too, Mr. Fontaine.”

  “As Jim said, it’s been a pleasure. More than likely Sylvie is going to confine you to bed for a few more days, so be prepared.”

  “I’m not at full strength yet, so that’ll be okay.”

  “You two will get along well.”

  “She seems nice.”

  “If she hires you, you’ll enjoy working with her, too.”

  “We’ll see what happens.”

  “Her house isn’t very large and the men she takes in are always respectable.”

  “That’s good to know,” Eddy said, watching him.

  “She originally owned this place. It was much smaller back then of course. She and her late husband Freddy have been here since the first big Comstock strike in ’fifty-­nine.”

  If Eddy didn’t know better she’d think he was prolonging the conversation in order to delay leaving. She hoped she was wrong. That they might actually be attracted to each other was too outrageous to even contemplate. “You should go and do whatever it is saloon owners do. I’m a bit tuckered out. I think I’ll get some sleep.”

  “Do you need anything?”

  “No, I’m fine for now.”

  But instead of leaving he stood there silently, just as he had last night, his gaze holding hers, and the sensations shimmering over her were getting harder and harder to ignore.

  “Rest up,” he said softly.

  After his departure, Eddy made her way back
to the bed. Lying there, she thought the sooner she left Fontaine the better off she’d be. California was her goal, not exploring whatever was calling to her from a pair of smoldering green eyes.

  Descending the stairs, Rhine wondered again what the hell was wrong with him. Instead of leaving her when Jim had, he’d stayed behind babbling inanely as if he hadn’t wanted to part from her. Had she not politely sent him on his way, he’d probably be still there searching for something else to talk about. Frustrated, he entered the kitchen were Jim stood chopping vegetables for the evening’s stew. “I’m going over to the orphanage.”

  “Will you be back in time for lunch?”

  “Probably not.” Limiting his contact with Miss Carmichael would hopefully stifle this kernel of attraction that seemed determined to blossom in spite of his protestations.

  “Okay. I’ll look in on our guest while you’re gone. Give my regards to Sister Mary, Willa Grace, and those troublemaking boys of yours.”

  “Will do.” Confident that by the end of the day Eddy would be with Sylvie and he’d be returning to his well-­ordered life, he stepped into his new Rockaway carriage, gathered the reins, and drove away.

  The orphanage run by Mary Fulmer and her assistant Willa Grace was housed in an old mansion on the edge of town. Mary used to be Sister Mary of the Sisters of Charity, a local Catholic Order, until she locked horns with the Mother Superior over the Order’s refusal to allow children of color into their orphanage. Mary found no charity in that, so three years ago, after much back and forth, she renounced her vows, left the Order, and established her own orphanage. The children under her care were of various races and ages. Over the years, she’d taken in as many as seven. Presently, there were four. Two of the four were eight-­year-­old twins Micah and Christian Sanford, the troublemaking boys Jim referenced. Rhine had come to care for them a great deal.

  When he pulled up in front of Mary’s place, the twins came tearing down the steps to greet him and his heart swelled.

  “Did you bring us something?” Micah asked excitedly.

  “Soldiers, candy, a yo-­yo?” his twin chimed in.

  “That depends. How much trouble have you been in since I saw you last?”

  They went silent and shared a look as if deciding how much to confess. His last visit had been a few days before his trip to Reno with Jim and coming across Eddy in the desert.