kicked the edge of the boardwalk. "There goes my last two bucks." Sure she really had been robbed, Mariah slipped back between the buildings again. In the almost futile hope of finding Cain, she'd gone and paid a boy the outrageous sum of two whole dollars to go and look for her "cousin" by checking the twenty-some odd saloons in the "sporting" part of town. Although she had managed to catch sight of the boy popping in and out of a few of these establishments, it'd been a good long time since she'd last seen him. Had he taken her money and run? Mariah glanced around the corner again. This time she spotted both Cain and the kid as they burst through a pair of swinging doors not two blocks from where she stood.
Mariah quickly ducked back into the alley. In order to make her claims more believable, she pulled a few strands of long dark hair loose from her tight chignon, leaving them to dangle down from her temple, and then loosened the ribbons on her bonnet and knocked it slightly askew. She was debating whether to tear a couple of buttons off the bodice of her dress as the boy came running past the alley. He pointed at her, shouting something over his shoulder as he went by, and disappeared up the street. A few short moments later, Cain reached her.
"Mariah!" He stepped into the alley, his horrified gaze taking in her state of dishevelment. "My God—what happened?"
She parted her lips to deliver her prepared tale, when Cain took her into his arms, surprising the words right out of her mouth.
"Are you all right, honey?" he asked, pushing the oversized bonnet to the back of her head for a better look. He ran his fingers across her eyebrows and then down along her cheeks, checking for bruises. "What happened, princess? Did someone hurt you?"
There was something in the way he spoke, and even more so in the way he was looking at her, that disturbed Mariah enough to raise goose pimples on her arms. This was no time for nerves. She had him right where she wanted him, didn't she? Mariah shook off the sensations and went ahead with her plan.
"Oh, Cousin Cain," she said, her features carefully twisted with worry. "I'm afraid I've gone and lost the twenty dollars I was supposed to use to buy supplies." She held up her empty bag. "Zack will be so disappointed in me. Whatever will I do?"
More concerned about her physical safety than anything so fleeting as currency, Cain's gaze scanned her again. "Who did this to you?"
"Some youngsters, ruffians, you know the kind." Mariah sniffled against a linen handkerchief she'd brought along for just that purpose. "I guess I let them get the best of me, and well... how they did it really doesn't matter, does it? They made off with my money, and now there will be hell for me to pay. Oh, Cain." She squeezed out a tear. "What in all that's holy will I do?"
Dragging his thumb up Mariah's cheek, he brushed the little teardrop away. "You can stop worrying about that money, for starters." Without hesitation, Cain reached into his jeans pocket and withdrew what was left of his loan. After stuffing the bills inside her velvet handbag, he pulled her into his arms again. "There's a little better than nineteen dollars there—plenty to pay for the supplies. Now tell me exactly what those boys did to you."
Feeling a pinch of guilt, Mariah averted her eyes, looking instead at her velvet bag. She ought to have been happy, relieved at the least, to know that Cain hadn't yet bought himself a woman for the night. But another emotion seemed to be crowding those pleasurable sensations aside, one that felt a lot like remorse, or something close to it.
"Come on, princess," Cain whispered, trying to coax the details of her ordeal out of her. "I can't go after those ruffians and make them pay for what they've done if I don't know who they are and what-all they're guilty of."
Guilt. Now there was a word, perhaps the one which best described the way she was feeling at the moment. Good and guilty. Should she admit
Mariah quickly ducked back into the alley. In order to make her claims more believable, she pulled a few strands of long dark hair loose from her tight chignon, leaving them to dangle down from her temple, and then loosened the ribbons on her bonnet and knocked it slightly askew. She was debating whether to tear a couple of buttons off the bodice of her dress as the boy came running past the alley. He pointed at her, shouting something over his shoulder as he went by, and disappeared up the street. A few short moments later, Cain reached her.
"Mariah!" He stepped into the alley, his horrified gaze taking in her state of dishevelment. "My God—what happened?"
She parted her lips to deliver her prepared tale, when Cain took her into his arms, surprising the words right out of her mouth.
"Are you all right, honey?" he asked, pushing the oversized bonnet to the back of her head for a better look. He ran his fingers across her eyebrows and then down along her cheeks, checking for bruises. "What happened, princess? Did someone hurt you?"
There was something in the way he spoke, and even more so in the way he was looking at her, that disturbed Mariah enough to raise goose pimples on her arms. This was no time for nerves. She had him right where she wanted him, didn't she? Mariah shook off the sensations and went ahead with her plan.
"Oh, Cousin Cain," she said, her features carefully twisted with worry. "I'm afraid I've gone and lost the twenty dollars I was supposed to use to buy supplies." She held up her empty bag. "Zack will be so disappointed in me. Whatever will I do?"
More concerned about her physical safety than anything so fleeting as currency, Cain's gaze scanned her again. "Who did this to you?"
"Some youngsters, ruffians, you know the kind." Mariah sniffled against a linen handkerchief she'd brought along for just that purpose. "I guess I let them get the best of me, and well... how they did it really doesn't matter, does it? They made off with my money, and now there will be hell for me to pay. Oh, Cain." She squeezed out a tear. "What in all that's holy will I do?"
Dragging his thumb up Mariah's cheek, he brushed the little teardrop away. "You can stop worrying about that money, for starters." Without hesitation, Cain reached into his jeans pocket and withdrew what was left of his loan. After stuffing the bills inside her velvet handbag, he pulled her into his arms again. "There's a little better than nineteen dollars there—plenty to pay for the supplies. Now tell me exactly what those boys did to you."
Feeling a pinch of guilt, Mariah averted her eyes, looking instead at her velvet bag. She ought to have been happy, relieved at the least, to know that Cain hadn't yet bought himself a woman for the night. But another emotion seemed to be crowding those pleasurable sensations aside, one that felt a lot like remorse, or something close to it.
"Come on, princess," Cain whispered, trying to coax the details of her ordeal out of her. "I can't go after those ruffians and make them pay for what they've done if I don't know who they are and what-all they're guilty of."
Guilt. Now there was a word, perhaps the one which best described the way she was feeling at the moment. Good and guilty. Should she admit
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