Read Online Angel in My Arms by Colleen Faulkner - Free Book Online
Authors: Colleen Faulkner
Ads: Link
inheritance?" To a cultured whore
with a voice as smooth as honey and lips that are sweeter, he thought.
He propped one elbow on his knee and brushed back the long locks of
dark hair that fell over his forehead.
Rain pattered on the window glass. A gaslight hissed on the wall
beside the bed. The room smelled faintly of wildflowers, of Celeste.
Downstairs he could hear her banging pots, talking to herself or that
mutt of hers.
"Even in death you couldn't do me a good turn, could you, John?" Fox
said aloud. "She welcomed me into your home, her home, drew me like no
woman has ever drawn me before."
And what is she,
he thought
bitterly. A whore. A woman who sold her body, not just to men, but to
his father. His father's whore. A whore like Amber, like…
"Damn it! What have you got to say for yourself now?"
Of course his father didn't answer.
He dropped his head to his hands. "I don't know why I'm expecting
anything out of you now," he muttered. "Learned my lesson long ago,
didn't I?"
He sighed. There was no use going over and over in his head the ways
his father had wronged him. That was all in the past and nothing could
change that past. So,
what now?
The business man in him tried to analyze his situation. In half a
day's time he'd fallen in love with a whore. Just what he needed in his
life, another whore. And he was penniless. He had nothing but the
clothes on his back, his toiletries, and two spare shirts. He had less
than twenty dollars in greenbacks and nowhere to go.
His plan had been to sell the house, take what money his father had
left him, and start a new life. He had wanted to go back to California,
but not to San Francisco. There was a pretty little valley in northern
California he'd visited with Amber. He wanted to buy some land there
and start a winery. She had laughed at his dream and Fox had let the
subject drop, but he'd never forgotten that valley. At night he dreamed
of it. But he hadn't had the courage to leave his business, the house,
Amber, and buy the land when he still had the money. In those days all
he could think of was the amount of cash in his bank account. He'd
wanted to be rich. He'd wanted John to be proud of him.
Now he had nothing. Nothing but some worthless land claims. Hell, he didn't even have that.
Fox stared up at the striped green wallpaper. All he had was
half a.
land claim. First he'd had a liar and a cheat for a business partner, now he had a whore.
He rose and walked to the window, thinking of the woman downstairs.
How could he have been so foolish? With all his experience, how could
he have fallen so fast? He should have known that his father couldn't
have actually been friends with a decent woman.
But there had been no indication of what Celeste was. No war paint
of red rouge, no revealing clothing. More importantly, she didn't carry
herself like a whore. Celeste walked with her head held high, a
self-confidence in her stride. He had never known a whore who was so
educated and well mannered.
Amber made a good appearance, but inside her fancy clothes, beneath
the jewels, she had been just another San Francisco dockside strumpet.
Fox pulled back the curtain and stared outside. The sky was gray;
the horizon was gray. Though he knew there were mountains just beyond
the town, they were invisible in the gray sheet of rain. The water ran
in rivers on each side of the muddy street below. Only the crown of the
dirt road stood above the water.
A black hearse with frosted glass sides rolled by, the horses
struggling in the mud as a sheet of dirty water sprayed the frosted
glass of the vehicle. No doubt, it was bound for Sal's place to pick up
the dead girl.
"So what now?" Fox said aloud. He tapped on the window with his
knuckles. The glass was cold and damp with condensation. He let the
curtain fall.
The first thing he needed to do was to apologize to Celeste. He
shouldn't have spoken to her that way, treated her that way. He
shouldn't have taken her declaration so personally.
with a voice as smooth as honey and lips that are sweeter, he thought.
He propped one elbow on his knee and brushed back the long locks of
dark hair that fell over his forehead.
Rain pattered on the window glass. A gaslight hissed on the wall
beside the bed. The room smelled faintly of wildflowers, of Celeste.
Downstairs he could hear her banging pots, talking to herself or that
mutt of hers.
"Even in death you couldn't do me a good turn, could you, John?" Fox
said aloud. "She welcomed me into your home, her home, drew me like no
woman has ever drawn me before."
And what is she,
he thought
bitterly. A whore. A woman who sold her body, not just to men, but to
his father. His father's whore. A whore like Amber, like…
"Damn it! What have you got to say for yourself now?"
Of course his father didn't answer.
He dropped his head to his hands. "I don't know why I'm expecting
anything out of you now," he muttered. "Learned my lesson long ago,
didn't I?"
He sighed. There was no use going over and over in his head the ways
his father had wronged him. That was all in the past and nothing could
change that past. So,
what now?
The business man in him tried to analyze his situation. In half a
day's time he'd fallen in love with a whore. Just what he needed in his
life, another whore. And he was penniless. He had nothing but the
clothes on his back, his toiletries, and two spare shirts. He had less
than twenty dollars in greenbacks and nowhere to go.
His plan had been to sell the house, take what money his father had
left him, and start a new life. He had wanted to go back to California,
but not to San Francisco. There was a pretty little valley in northern
California he'd visited with Amber. He wanted to buy some land there
and start a winery. She had laughed at his dream and Fox had let the
subject drop, but he'd never forgotten that valley. At night he dreamed
of it. But he hadn't had the courage to leave his business, the house,
Amber, and buy the land when he still had the money. In those days all
he could think of was the amount of cash in his bank account. He'd
wanted to be rich. He'd wanted John to be proud of him.
Now he had nothing. Nothing but some worthless land claims. Hell, he didn't even have that.
Fox stared up at the striped green wallpaper. All he had was
half a.
land claim. First he'd had a liar and a cheat for a business partner, now he had a whore.
He rose and walked to the window, thinking of the woman downstairs.
How could he have been so foolish? With all his experience, how could
he have fallen so fast? He should have known that his father couldn't
have actually been friends with a decent woman.
But there had been no indication of what Celeste was. No war paint
of red rouge, no revealing clothing. More importantly, she didn't carry
herself like a whore. Celeste walked with her head held high, a
self-confidence in her stride. He had never known a whore who was so
educated and well mannered.
Amber made a good appearance, but inside her fancy clothes, beneath
the jewels, she had been just another San Francisco dockside strumpet.
Fox pulled back the curtain and stared outside. The sky was gray;
the horizon was gray. Though he knew there were mountains just beyond
the town, they were invisible in the gray sheet of rain. The water ran
in rivers on each side of the muddy street below. Only the crown of the
dirt road stood above the water.
A black hearse with frosted glass sides rolled by, the horses
struggling in the mud as a sheet of dirty water sprayed the frosted
glass of the vehicle. No doubt, it was bound for Sal's place to pick up
the dead girl.
"So what now?" Fox said aloud. He tapped on the window with his
knuckles. The glass was cold and damp with condensation. He let the
curtain fall.
The first thing he needed to do was to apologize to Celeste. He
shouldn't have spoken to her that way, treated her that way. He
shouldn't have taken her declaration so personally.
Similar Books
