Page 22 of The Gilded Lady (The Gilded West #3)

Chapter Eleven

W illiam Harvey stood inside the shop’s doorway. If the little bell on the front door had rung when he’d entered, Glory had been too preoccupied to notice. She couldn’t quite understand why her heart was racing now. He’d alarmed her, but it was only Harvey, not someone worse. Not him.

Her eyes drifted closed in relief. Clearly she was letting this mysterious letter get the better of her. Or maybe Zane’s overzealous vigilance was getting to her. He was making her overly suspicious that every shadowed figure that moved was her past coming to get her.

“I’ve startled you.” Harvey looked pointedly at the hand covering her heart before looking up at her face. She could’ve sworn his gaze left a layer of grime as it roved over her bosom on the way up.

“I didn’t hear you come in.” She held her hands clasped before her in an attempt to appear calm.

“I’m surprised to see you here too, my dear. I didn’t realize you offered tailor services to your customers.”

Harvey had a way of always trying to remind her of her place in the world. She tightened her mouth in annoyance, but tried not to show any emotion. Emotion was weakness to men like him. To all men really. She hadn’t met one who hadn’t tried to use it against her.

“I’m here with Able.” She corrected him.

“Ah.” He walked farther into the room, closer to her. He wasn’t nearly as large as Zane, but he had a way of making the narrow space feel even smaller. “I wasn’t aware that Sainsbury saw men like him.”

“What do you mean?” She stiffened her spine, prepared to verbally flay him. Able was closer to her than her own brother ever had been. When her brother had turned his back to her pleas for help, Able had taken her far away from South Carolina.

“He’s the help.” Harvey shrugged.

“We’re in Helena, Mr. Harvey. There is no ‘help’ here. Only those who haven’t made their fortunes yet. As I recall, your own father lived in the work camp when he arrived here.”

He grinned, unperturbed by her bringing up his own humble roots. “Touché, Miss Winters.” He shuffled a little closer, coming to a stop a mere foot away from her. “I always have liked your spirit. Have you given any further thought to my proposition?”

She stiffened when he ran the fingertip of his index finger up her arm.

In the summer heat of the small shop, she’d taken off her thin pelisse and gloves soon after arriving.

She found herself missing the layers of cloth that would separate his skin from hers.

“Your proposition?” She shifted backward on her heels, trying to stall him.

There was no way in hell she planned to take their friendship further, but she preferred not to completely alienate a man who could be very powerful, very soon.

If he were elected, he could wield the power to shut her down.

“Come now, Miss Winters, playing coy doesn’t become you.” His prominent brow furrowed and he leaned forward. “You know what I want.”

She could smell the tobacco on his breath, and her stomach roiled in protest as the scent brought back memories she’d rather see dead and buried.

She was starting to feel restrained even though he hadn’t touched her again and she could feel the solid presence of the velvet curtains behind her.

All she had to do was run through them. The thought calmed her pulse a little.

“I think you’re getting a little ahead of yourself.

The vote doesn’t take place for months. You’re a strong contender, but the ballots haven’t been counted. ”

He held the grin, scraping his teeth along his bottom lip as he eyed the cleavage exposed by her gown.

It was a fairly modest frock, more for shopping and going out about town than for flirting in the lounges of Victoria House.

Nevertheless, his eyes were fastened to the slight mound of her breasts.

“The vote may not be official until the autumn but I assure you the ballots have been counted and I’ve come out on top.”

Dammit. Had he paid someone off or was he simply feeding her talk in the hopes that she’d believe him?

“There’s a council meeting at the end of the week. I’ve seen the agenda and Victoria House is on it. Should I put in a good word for you, Glory, or would you rather I side with the good people of Helena?”

She opened her mouth to tell him to go to hell, but she couldn’t force the words out past the lump in her throat.

She employed many people, and most of those were women with nowhere else to go.

That wasn’t even counting the women who had passed through the boardinghouse.

How many women were on their way to the house even now from some remote part of the territory?

Every other week it seemed like another one showed up needing help.

“I would be grateful if you’d put in a good word.” She kept her voice low and measured, hoping he didn’t hear the disdain she felt for him.

He inclined his head. “I’m certain you would, but I can’t do something for nothing. Can’t have people around here thinking I’m weak once I’m an elected official.” She gasped when his fingertip came back, only this time it traced the edges of her bodice instead of her arm.

Despite her best intentions, she reacted on instinct and slapped his hand away.

She knew from hard-learned experience that fighting back was never the way to go in situations like these.

She was inevitably smaller than her tormentor.

A slap might work on normal men, but not men like Harvey.

Not men like him. They both thrived on terrifying those who were smaller than they were.

Harvey reacted true to form. He grabbed her arms and pulled her against him, backing her up so that her back pressed against the bolts of fabric lining the wall, giving her no quarter and no way to move away from him. Shoving his face into her face, he said, “That was stupid.”

She heard Harvey. She smelled the cigars on his breath.

In her mind, she saw him, and she was back in that bedchamber from so many years ago.

Hard hands pushed and pulled, positioning her how they wanted.

Holding her down when all she wanted was to leave that place forever.

Nausea rolled in her stomach as he laughed, his breath in her face, his body over hers.

A wet mouth touched her neck and she couldn’t decide if it was Harvey or him , if it was real or imagined. She only knew that she needed to get away. She couldn’t breathe and dark spots flashed behind her eyes as gray played at the edges of her vision.

Somewhere through her panic, she heard the most wonderful sound in the world. The metallic click of the hammer being pulled back on a revolver.

“Get your goddamn hands off her.”

Zane stared at the place where his gun pressed into Harvey’s temple.

Part of him wanted Harvey to refuse and give him a reason to pull the trigger.

The other part of him thought he should’ve already pulled the trigger.

As the two sides fought it out, Harvey relented.

He dropped his hand from Glory’s breast, and Zane clenched his jaw at the sight of the rumpled fabric.

The son of a bitch had no right to touch her.

When he’d stepped away from her completely, Zane put himself between the two of them but he didn’t holster his gun.

“How do you know she didn’t want it?” Harvey smirked.

For one split second Zane realized the bastard was right.

He’d walked in from the back room because he’d heard muffled voices, and he’d wanted to make sure Glory was safe.

When he’d seen Harvey crowding her against the wall, all he’d seen was a man’s hands on her.

He hadn’t even bothered to notice who the man was.

At the time he’d reacted on instinct, wanting to pull the ass off of her.

Zane had to admit that he’d have reacted that way no matter who the man was who’d touched her.

It had been instinct because he couldn’t tolerate the thought of another man touching her.

Somehow in this mess, he’d started to think of Glory as his when he knew he had no right to think that.

She belonged to no man and had made that clear to him.

Zane’s hand clenched tighter around the grip, aching to grab Harvey and pound him for daring to touch her. None of that really mattered right now. Whether she’d wanted it or not, she clearly didn’t now because she wasn’t intervening on Harvey’s behalf.

“No one wants you here, Harvey. Go home.”

“I have an appointment.” Harvey pulled himself up to his full height.

“Get the hell out of here.” Zane bit out each word slowly and succinctly so there’d be no mistaking what he said. “She wants nothing to do with you. If you ever touch her again, I’ll kill you. If you ever come to Victoria House again, I’ll kill you.”

“That’s big talk for—”

“Go!” Glory surprised them both by interrupting him. Zane glanced over his shoulder to see her step around him, her finger pointed toward the door. “Zane works for me now.”

Harvey looked between the two of them as if trying to figure out if she was Zane’s employer or lover. Zane had to resist the urge to growl.

“That explains the suit,” Harvey said, taking in the clothes Zane wore.

Out of patience, Zane stepped forward, spurring Harvey into action toward the door. “You’re going to regret you made an enemy of me. Both of you.” With those words Harvey slammed the door behind him.

Zane holstered his gun and let out the breath he’d been holding, relieved that the violence hadn’t escalated.

Harvey was wealthy, but he was small potatoes compared to the clout the Jamesons held in this town.

No matter what Harvey tried, Zane was confident that his own association with the Jameson name would help him.

Glory had wilted at his side. She was shaking, her eyes closed as she breathed in and out as if that simple act were taking all of her concentration.

He shouldn’t have let her out of his sight.

It had been a bad idea to flirt with her in the dressing room, but she’d been so damn adorable with her flushed cheeks that he hadn’t been able to stop.

He’d been glad when she’d run out of there because it was going to be damn hard to change his pants with an erection and that’s exactly what would’ve happened had she stayed a second longer.

But had he kept his head and not flirted, she’d have had no reason to go flying out of the room and into the front of the shop. He’d put her at risk.

What if he hadn’t come to check on her? How far would Harvey have gone?

“You okay, Glory?”

The question only seemed to make her trembling worse.

He stood there feeling as inept as a fawn on an icy lake.

One wrong move could send him crashing to the ground, but he couldn’t not move.

He couldn’t not do anything. Every fiber of his being was telling him to pull her against him, but he knew she didn’t want that from him.

She’d made it clear how she valued her independence.

A muffled sob broke out of her, causing her shoulders to shake.

Aw, hell. As gently as if she were made of the thinnest glass and could break into a million pieces if handled the wrong way, he put his arms around her.

Much to his surprise, she didn’t resist. In fact, he’d only barely moved toward her before she threw herself against his chest. It was the strangest feeling in the world. Strange, but good.

He tightened his arms around her, feeling her heartbeat against him, breathing in her heady rose scent.

She felt warm and solid in his arms, not as fragile as he’d first imagined.

And to his surprise, that warm solid strength somehow worked its way inside him, settling somewhere deep in his chest, making it hard to breath for a minute.

When he could finally take a deep breath, he filled his lungs with Glory. She was all around him.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He nodded, unable to speak past the lump in his throat.

Able pushed his way through the velvet curtains, still tugging his clothes into place from his fitting, probably summoned by Zane and Harvey’s angry voices. He paused abruptly when he saw them. His dark gaze going from Zane to Glory and back again.

“It was Harvey, but he’s gone now,” Zane said. The fact that his voice was so low and steady surprised him.

The large man took a breath and nodded. His gaze lingered on Glory for a minute before something seemed to change on his face.

Anger gave way to some sort of acceptance and he met Zane’s gaze again.

With a nod, he ducked back into the dressing area.

As bizarre as it sounded, Zane felt as if he’d given them his blessing.

Zane tightened his grip on Glory, unwilling to let her go just yet. He knew something had changed between them. Whether they liked it or not, they seemed to be on a runaway train headed for whatever was waiting for them. Only he didn’t know what that was.

“I want to go home.” Her small hand rested on his chest but not in a manner that was meant to push him away. It simply rested there above his heart. The heat of all five of her fingers and palm warmed his skin through the shirt and waistcoat he wore. His heart pounded beneath them.

“Give me a minute to change clothes, and I’ll take you.”

She nodded, but didn’t step back right away.

His hands clung to her small waist reluctant to let her go.

Her eyes were soft and open when they met his.

The vivid green swirled around the brown, giving them depth.

She took in a breath and her bottom lip trembled slightly.

He wanted to touch it with his own, to kiss her and tell her that he’d make everything better.

But he knew it was a lie. At best he’d make things manageable for her.

He’d find the phantom from her past and put him to rest once and for all, but then he’d leave her.