Read Online When The Heart Beckons by Jill Gregory - Free Book Online Page B

Hotel
clerks, chambermaids, merchants, saloon keepers, and yes—saloon
women, for Brett adored females and Annabel knew that he would
certainly flirt congenially with any or all women he encountered
while slaking his thirst in a saloon.
    Well, she’d better get started. Steele
already had a jump on her.
    She performed a quick toilette, washing her
face and hands, brushing and repinning her hair into its flawless
chignon, and stuffing her aching feet back into her boots. She took
care to secure the derringer in its hiding place once more before
slipping downstairs and out into the street just as the sun glided
along the western sky in a splash of gilded lavender and rose.
    Annabel headed immediately for the Hot
Pepper Saloon, no more than three doors down from her hotel. There
were four saloons in this town and if she had to enter all of them
to find what she needed to know she would do it, but she couldn’t
help hoping as she dodged into the alley behind the saloon that
such a step wouldn’t be necessary. She knew that the last thing she
should do was draw attention to herself by entering the saloon
openly, so she pushed open the back door and eased inside a small
corridor, hoping she would be lucky enough to obtain the
information she needed here at the Hot Pepper, without having to
visit all of the others.
    It was noisy and crowded in the enormous
main room of the saloon. Smoke drifted above the green felt gaming
tables and curled against the red-flocked wallpaper. Brass
chandeliers gave out bright, garish light to illuminate the
costumes of the saloon girls, who hurried here and there among the
men, pouring drinks, lighting cigars. But it was dim and relatively
quiet in the back corridor in which Annabel found herself. There
was a short stairway on her left and she studied it speculatively,
while out in the saloon, laughter roared and glasses clinked and
someone banged out a popular ballad on the piano.
    She set a foot on the bottom step, but at
that moment a woman burst through the doorway off the saloon, her
head turning as she called out to someone at the bar. Annabel
ducked back against the wall, out of sight, and held her
breath.
    A cloud of musky perfume assailed her
nostrils as the woman sauntered into the corridor and started up
the stairs.
    Annabel craned her neck ever so slightly to
get a glimpse of her. The woman was tall and statuesque, her buxom
figure resplendent in a gown of dark violet satin trimmed in black.
Her face was not what Annabel had expected. Though painted, it was
nevertheless an attractive, pleasant face. She wore an expression
of keen anticipation.
    Annabel made a decision. She would follow
the woman upstairs. It was exactly the kind of opportunity she’d
been looking for, a chance to ask questions about Brett in private,
without having to venture into the main part of the saloon, where
she might attract attention.
    She followed the woman up the short flight
of stairs and reached the landing in time to see the violet skirts
disappear through a door on the left.
    No one else was in sight.
    The floor creaked beneath her as Annabel
tiptoed down the dim hallway, lit only by a single bronze torchère.
She knocked softly on the door through which the woman had
passed.
    “Who the hell is there?” an irritated female
voice called out at once.
    “Someone who needs to speak with you. Please
open the door.”
    There was silence. Annabel’s heart skidded
suddenly as wild laughter erupted abruptly from a room down the
hall, followed at once by a man’s grunting, and the violent creak
of bedsprings. From inside this room, however, there was no sound
at all. Or was someone whispering?
    She put her ear to the door and nearly fell
in as the door was suddenly yanked wide. A brawny arm seized her
and tugged her inside before she had time to do more than gasp.
    Roy Steele kicked the door shut behind her
and pinned her against it so hard she could scarcely breathe.
“You,” he said in cold