Pure Sin Page 13

  Oblivious to everyone else, Adam watched Flora as she moved forward, the skirt of her silk walking dress gently swaying.

  Ellis observed Adam’s intense regard and realized he had a rival for Lady Flora.

  The man and Flora obviously knew each other. On the other hand, he decided, the nail marks in his arm suggested Flora viewed the half-blood with less than blissful joy. The Kentuckian smiled as he reached the three men, because good manners were second nature to a man from a family of career politicians. “Ellis Green, here. It’s a mighty fine pleasure to meet you,” he said, putting out his hand.

  “James Du Gard,” James responded, stepping forward to take his hand.

  “Adam Serre,” Adam quietly said, shaking Ellis’s hand with barely perceptible reluctance.

  “You have the Aspen River valley in Indian country,” Ellis said, recognizing the name. “You’re the French count.”

  “And you’re the governor’s nephew,” Adam softly replied. Although he’d never met Ellis before, everyone had heard of the Blue Grass Lode. “Are you expecting the governor back from Washington this year?”

  “As a matter of fact, he’s on his way back now.”

  Adam’s eyes met James’s for a fraction of a second, the news of special interest for them, with Meagher’s visit to Fort Benton imminent. “I’m sure everyone will be pleased at his return,” Adam said, his sudden smile casual, polite, the minute aggression vanished from his stance. “How have you been, Lady Flora?” he smoothly queried, turning his urbane gaze on her. “Your father tells me your studies have progressed well. We were just admiring Alan’s watercolors.” His mood had abruptly altered; Governor Smith’s return was propitious should Meagher meet with an accident. Additionally, Smith was committed to amicable relations with the Indians, a remarkable posture for a politician, a rarity in a political appointee.

  “I’m fine, thank you,” Flora said, responding with a prickly testiness to Adam’s maddening suaveness. “Our days in camp have been productive.”

  He suddenly felt as though he were in control of his emotions again, as though he could deal with Flora Bonham in a reasonable way. There was no rationale to explain the abrupt volte-face; he only experienced a kind of liberating elation. “I’m pleased to hear it,” he replied. “Guipure lace becomes you,” he added with a grin.

  “You haven’t changed,” she softly said, annoyed by his insolent allusion to lace and their intimacy in the hayloft.

  “Was I expected to?”

  “I have no expectations with you, Mr. Serre.”

  “How reassuring.”

  “It pleases me to reassure you,” she sweetly said, placing her gloved fingers lightly on Ellis’s hand as it rested atop his walking stick.

  “And it pleases me to see that you haven’t lost your flare for flirtation.” But Adam’s voice had changed, the silky insouciance tempered by a flinty coldness.

  “Will you be staying long?”

  “Long enough,” Adam bluntly said.

  “Is he annoying you?” Ellis interjected, certain now the conversation wasn’t teasing repartee.

  “Probably,” Adam softly declared, challenge in his voice.

  “No,” Flora snapped. “I’m not annoyed,” she added in a tone of intense annoyance.

  “They do this,” the earl said with a sigh, recalling similar contretemps during their stay at the ranch. “So I’ll step in as referee.”

  “And I as well,” James interposed, pulling at Adam’s arm.

  “Forgive me, Lady Flora,” Adam said, shaking James’s hand away. “It was my fault entirely.” He smiled. “I’ve been out in the wilderness too long.”

  “He has,” James softly agreed, amazed at Adam’s loss of control.

  “You’re forgiven,” she said with the precise degree of sweetness intended to provoke.

  “Flora!” her father ordered.

  “I’m sorry.” Her eyes were veiled behind her lashes as she looked up at Adam, her expression shuttered. “Perhaps it’s the heat,” she said in a theatrical wisp of a voice, turning to her father. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go lie down.” She smiled up at Ellis last and then walked away.

  “Humpf,” her father muttered, bewildered at his daughter’s melodrama. “She can outlast me on the trail.”

  “She’s probably not used to her corset,” Adam casually remarked, taking note of the door she entered. “Damned uncomfortable, I’d say.”

  “I hardly think it’s a subject of concern to you,” Ellis said with decided affront.

  “Don’t get chivalrous, Green,” Adam calmly said. “It was an observation, no more.”

  “I’ll thank you to keep such observations to yourself.”

  “Are you her keeper?”

  “I’d gladly defend her.”

  “Nonsense,” George Bonham interjected. “Flora can defend herself probably better than any of us. Have you seen her skill with a pistol?”

  “I haven’t, sir, but she strikes me as an amazing lady.”

  “She’s amazing, all right,” Adam softly murmured.

  “I beg your pardon?” Ellis’ pale-blue eyes had narrowed.

  “I’ve seen her shoot,” Adam replied with unruffled tranquillity. “She is amazing. She tried my new Winchester 1866 at the ranch,” he added, his dark gaze swinging to the earl, “and emptied the chamber into a three-inch circle on the target in ten seconds.”

  “You’re the same one who drove Ned Storham off his grazing lands, aren’t you?” Ellis said with sudden revelation in his voice. The new Winchesters were still rare on the northern plains.

  “Off my grazing lands,” Adam corrected.

  “That Indian land is open grazing land.”

  “No, it isn’t.”

  “It always has been.”

  “No, it hasn’t. I’ve title to it.”

  “Not after the treaty is ratified.”

  “The treaty isn’t ratified, and even if it were, those lands are excluded. They’re mine.”

  “That’s not what Ned Storham says.”

  “He’s wrong. I already told him so.”

  “He doesn’t agree.”

  “Then he’s welcome to try to use it,” Adam said very softly. They’d driven Ned Storham and his crew off his land early that spring in a violent confrontation. A dozen of Storham’s men had been wounded, his herd stampeded and forced south of the Yellowstone. Ned might have been talking big in town, but he’d not attempted another drive north since then.

  “What the hell, there’s enough land out here for everyone,” Ellis jovially said with a politician’s tact and smile.

  “That’s the way I look at it. They can stay out of my territory,” Adam replied with a matching smile.

  “Montana’s larger than England,” the earl said. “You’d think there’d be sufficient land for everyone.”

  “And there certainly is, sir,” Ellis congenially agreed. “Will I be seeing you at the Fisks’ tonight? Flora tells me you haven’t decided yet whether you’re attending. Molly puts on the finest spread of food west of the Mississippi, if that’s any inducement.”

  “It’s really up to Flora,” the earl replied. “I don’t know how she’s feeling.”

  “I’ll wish her a speedy recovery, sir, so I might see y’all tonight,” he cordially said. “If you’ll excuse me now,” he added with a dip of his head, “I’ve an appointment.” With his interest chiefly in Flora, he took his leave.

  “James and I will be in the card room if you decide to attend the Fisks’ ball tonight,” Adam said after Ellis left. “Sit in on a game. Harold always plays for high stakes.”

  “A more tempting incentive than the banker’s menu,” George Bonham waggishly remarked. “Flora might be interested. She likes high stakes.”

  “If she’s not indisposed,” Adam reminded him with a faint smile.

  “If she’s still talking to me, you mean. I haven’t chastised her in years. You do get her back up, Adam,” the earl noted, “damned if
you don’t.”

  “I’ll be on my best behavior, sir, should you join our game tonight,” Adam promised, his voice suddenly boyish.

  “I’ll see that he is,” James added with a custodial gleam in his eye.

  “Fifty guineas to raise?” the earl said.

  “Why not say five hundred dollars gold? Specie is almost nonexistent out here.”

  “You’re on.”

  Adam smiled. “I look forward to the evening.”

  Chapter Ten

  Shortly after Adam and James left, the earl knocked on Flora’s door. Entering at her invitation, he found her standing at the window. “Am I forgiven?” he asked, moving toward her across the sunlit room.

  Flora released the lace curtain she was holding, letting the sheer fabric drop back into place. “Adam didn’t go to his room. He and James walked across the street to Ballantine’s Saloon.” Turning away from the window toward her father, she added, “There’s nothing to forgive. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have acted like a petulant child.”

  “Everyone seemed a bit tense,” her father replied, sitting down on a rose velvet settee, his gaze taking in his daughter’s contemplative expression. “Are you feeling better now?”

  “Adam Serre seems to bring out my temper.”

  “And you his. Could it be lover’s jealousy?” he gently inquired. “I think Ellis bothered him.”

  “With no reason,” Flora said, dropping into a matching chair in a flurry of silk pongee. “He’s only a diversion.”

  “Adam can’t know that, and it’s obvious Ellis would like to become more important in your life.”

  “Papa, really.” She cast her father a searching look. “Could you see me as a political wife? I’d offend the wrong person within the week. And consider how dull life would be with Ellis Green. He thinks ladies are soft, sweet-smelling, mindless objects of flirtation. He said he thought it very brave of me to live in Four Chiefs’s village with only you, Alan, and Douglas as protection. Brave to live in a placid summer village? What would he think of the Ajjer Tuareg chief on our Saharan journey who threatened to abduct me at Ghat?”

  “Or the Chinese pirates who were persuaded to let us go only after you gave them your black pearls and intimidated them thoroughly with General Chen Ping’s letter of free passage,” her father added. “So are you brave enough,” he teased, “to go to the Fisks’ party tonight? Adam will be there.”

  “Should I be fainthearted?” Her smile was amused.

  “Preferably just not in the mood for a scene, darling,” he replied with a grin.

  “It depends on what he says first. I can be infinitely polite.”

  “Those inflections sound as though I’m to be chaperon again,” he said in a resigned fatherly intonation bereft of censure.

  “I promise to be well behaved,” Flora pleasantly declared. “If he is,” she significantly added.

  “Did I say there’s going to be high-stakes gambling?”

  “Why didn’t you mention that first, and we could have avoided all the futile speculation about Adam? I adore high stakes.”

  “I was curious, I suppose.”

  “About?” she gently queried.

  “Adam Serre … your feelings.”

  A small silence ensued. “I admit he attracts me,” she said at last. “But he intrigues a great many other women as well.”

  “And you don’t like the competition?”

  “His casualness, I think, bothers me. I’m more familiar with fawning men.”

  “But you disdain fawning men.”

  “Of course.” She smiled. “Must I be reasonable about this?”

  Her father gazed at her, his expression amiable. “Not with me,” he genially replied, comfortable with her frank response. “We’re invited for dinner first, if you wish.”

  “I’m resisting the thought of Ellis through eight courses.”

  “Why don’t we just attend the ball, then?”

  Her eyes lit up. “And try our hand at the gambling.”

  “They haven’t seen you play yet, have they?”

  She stretched leisurely, her smile delicious. “No. It should be fun.”

  “You’re drinking more than usual,” James remarked, comfortably disposed on a wine velvet sofa in their suite, his feet up, his arms crossed behind his head. Dressed for the evening festivities, he was patiently waiting to leave for the Fisks’ ball.

  Adam didn’t pause in his pouring, nor did he turn around until the large tumbler was full. “Is that a question or a statement?” He lifted his glass to his cousin in impudent salute.

  “Whichever you prefer.”

  “Neither appeals to me,” Adam nonchalantly murmured as he moved a short distance and dropped into an overstuffed chair dripping with the fashionable ubiquitous silk fringe. “You’re not my keeper. I don’t have one.”

  “If you continue at that pace,” James replied, eyeing the tall glass of bourbon, “you might need one.”

  “For?”

  “For your own health.”

  “I’m capable of taking care of myself.” Clipped, curt, delivered with a cool basilisk stare. Then, lifting his glass, Adam poured half the liquor down his throat.

  “She really agitates you.”

  “She?” An intentional obtuseness.

  “The flirtatious Lady Flora, of course.”

  “Is this going to be some purposeful lecture?” Adam idly stroked the pattern on the crystal glass, his dark gaze on James.

  “Do you think you need one?”

  “I know I don’t need one. And certainly not from you. As I recall, you couldn’t make up your mind last winter which of two ladies to sleep with in some vaguely permanent arrangement, until Rosalie Chantee came down over the Canadian border with her businessman father, and you spent the rest of the winter holed up at his trading post spending a fortune on trinkets for her. You were saying?”

  “Perhaps I’m saying you won’t be able to make the same business arrangement for the daughter of an earl,” James replied, undeterred by Adam’s pointed reproach. “So you might want to consider a less brusque approach than yours this afternoon in George’s suite. I thought I might be playing second in a duel for a moment. I’ve never seen you so rude to a woman.”

  “Are we through now?” Adam insolently drawled, gazing at his cousin with a mild lift of his brows.

  “You won’t listen.”

  “I heard you.” Adam’s voice softened; his friendship with James was of long standing and could not be treated callously. “Consider your duty completed.”

  “You thought you could walk away as you always have, didn’t you?”

  “I did walk away.”

  “You haven’t slept with another woman since Flora Bonham.”

  “I’ve been busy. And since when have you kept records?”

  “Lady Flora looks as though she may have found someone new to enliven her leisure.”

  “Ellis Green? I don’t think so.” He’d felt the same precipitous attraction when they’d met again; he’d seen the heat in her eyes too.

  “So what are you going to do about it other than drink yourself into a dangerous mood? Have you considered just asking her?”

  “Why don’t I send her a note?” Adam replied with mocking sarcasm. “Would you be interested in fucking me, Lady Flora? I have some free time this evening.” He quickly drained his glass.

  “Isolde’s warped your perceptions. You never used to be so damned calculating. What’s wrong with sincerity? Flora Bonham doesn’t look to me as though she’s a simpering maiden. She’s familiar with suitors, she’s bright, independent, apparently very select in her choice of husbands, or she’d have one by now. And you’re not even available. She understands.”

  “Don’t mention Isolde,” Adam grimly said. “She warped the last five years of my life and probably my future as well. Also,” he went on with a grimace of a smile, “I think you’re putting altogether too much trust in female reasonableness. Flora damn near b
it my head off this afternoon, if you recall.”

  “While you were being charmingly insolent. Even I knew you weren’t alluding to lace when you mentioned guipure.”

  “Merde, you’re full of advice tonight,” Adam grumbled. “I need another drink if you’re intent on overhauling my character.”

  “Don’t drink too much,” James chided, his smile sunny as a summer day, “or you’ll not be able to please her as well.”

  “I thought you didn’t like her,” Adam moodily challenged, the empty glass balanced on his chest as he lounged in the brocaded chair. “I thought she was taking too much of my attention,” he softly added. “I thought you wanted me totally committed to our clan.”

  “You haven’t smiled much since Flora left. And the militia might be disbanded soon, so I won’t need your undivided attention. Now that I think about it, what time is it?”

  Pulling out his watch from his white satin waistcoat pocket, Adam perceptively said, “It’s nine o’clock in Fort Benton. Meagher probably rode into town this morning. By now he should be roaring drunk.”

  “Or suitably welcomed by his enemies.”9

  Adam twirled his empty glass between his palms, his smile broadening. “On second thought, maybe I don’t need another drink, after all.”

  Adam Serre was more cheerful than he’d been in weeks as he entered Harold and Molly Fisk’s grand mansion on the hill. He greeted his hosts with cordiality, complimented Helena’s premier banker for talking him into buying the latest issue of railroad stock, which had doubled in price the month before, praised Molly’s Pingat gown and her floral arrangements towering above the receiving line, agreed with them both that Montana needed its governor back home, and in general exuded bountiful good spirits.

  His convivial humor even survived the sight of Flora in the arms of Ellis Green on the dance floor; he barely broke stride in his journey past the ballroom to the card room at the back of the house. She had the right to dance with anyone she wished, he reminded himself.