“That’s not true, either. I told her because I don’t want you attending her. She’s too young for someone like you. Far too inexperienced. You’ll hurt her, and I won’t have that. Better she should know you for what you are now than to find out after she’s fallen in love.”
“Is that the way it happened to you, Madeline?” he asked, his voice full of silky charm. “Are you certain you’re not confusing me with someone else?”
“No,” she snapped. Abruptly she pushed at Brig and started past him. He grabbed her arm just above the elbow and squeezed hard. “Let me go,” she said through clenched teeth.
“Not until I tell you what I think, Madeline.” Brigham yanked her toward him, and when she stumbled, he jerked her upright. He thought she would not dignify his manhandling with a struggle and he was proved correct. She stood toe-to-toe with him, the clean, cool angular lines of her face raised to his. Madeline’s stance was frigid, aloof, but there was no mistaking that he had excited her interest. In the depths of her emerald eyes the blue flame pulsed.
“You told Lydia I was a convict because you thought I used you to get to her. You felt betrayed by my attentions to your daughter. You’re quick to say she’s young and inexperienced—and just as determined to keep her that way—because it helps you hide your years and your experience. You can’t bear the thought that I might want your daughter when you want me all to yourself.”
His smile was not the careless boyish one he so often wore in public. The placement of his lips created a knowing look, one of calculation and design. “Remember how we met, Madeline? How long after I pulled you away from that falling stone wall did we end up here?” Her eyes darted away. “Look at me,” he ordered. “It was twenty minutes. You know how I know that? Because one day I timed the walk from Market Street to here. Twenty minutes to walk three blocks, climb four flights of stairs, and have you on my bed. We didn’t even undress. The ground rolled with an aftershock and you didn’t notice because your need for me was so great.”
Madeline’s breathing was quick and shallow. Brig’s hand was at the small of her back, pressing her toward him. She could feel the hardness of his belly against her, knew the need he had in him now.
“I must have said something in those first few minutes that made you suspect my origins, but once you did, you wanted me then and there. You would have been disappointed if it turned out I wasn’t a convict. Admit it.”
“I admit to no such thing,” she said huskily.
Brig’s head bent and his warm whiskey breath was like a kiss on Madeline’s face. “What is it that you like about us, I wonder,” he said softly, raising one hand to her breast. He felt it swell in his palm. “Ahh, Madeline, do you know, right now I don’t think it bloody well matters.” Taking her hand, he led her into the bedroom.
Lydia sether fork down as the last vestige of her appetite vanished. He had admitted it. Nathan Hunter was a digger convict. She wanted to know what he had done and couldn’t ask the question. When he didn’t offer the information she asked, “How well do you know Brigham Moore?”
“We’re old friends.”
“I see.” Though she didn’t, not really.
“We’re also partners. We have a stake in a gold mine and work a station together. That’s what you would call a farm, or perhaps a ranch, only it’s much larger than anything you have here. We raise jumbucks—sheep.” He leaned back in his chair. Under the table his legs brushed her gown as he crossed his ankles. He expected her to move away, or at least shift in response. She did neither.
Something compelled him to goad her. “Sorry we’re not in chains any longer?”
Her head jerked up. “No, I don’t think that. I’ve never thought that. Only...”
“Only what?”
“Only I was thinking I was wrong to judge you so harshly yesterday. I didn’t think you and Mr. Moore were so much alike.”
“We’re not,” Nathan said. Then to ease the terseness of his words, he sat forward, nudged Lydia’s plate toward her, and urged her to eat. Rather than wait for her questions, Nathan spoke to control the conversation.
“I followed Brig here on a business matter. I really can’t tell you more than it has to do with expanding our holdings and it’s perfectly legal. We don’t acknowledge one another publicly because we’re attempting to make the best deal we can as individuals.”
“You’re selling something?”
“No—buying. Or trying to. We’ve both expressed interest in a particular property and now we’re waiting to see which way the wind blows.”
“Aren’t you afraid your dual interest will drive the price up?”
“No. The owner doesn’t think much of the property in the first place.” He cut a sliver of roast beef and raised it to his mouth. “I met your father at the Silver Lady, just as I said I did, and he invited me some time later to your home.”
“And Mr. Moore rescued my mother in the last shaker.”
Nathan nodded, watching Lydia carefully as he chewed. “And she invited him.” He swallowed and speared a small potato. “It was sheer coincidence that we were there together, and if you recall, I made your acquaintance a little earlier that evening.”
“It was only yesterday,” Lydia said, struck by that realization. “I’ve only known you since yesterday.” Her large, solemn eyes were drawn to Nathan’s strong, hard-edged profile as he laughed. He had a richer laugh than Brigham, more spontaneous for all that it was rare. And the thought bothered her because somehow it seemed a betrayal of Brig.
“Our brief acquaintance has been rather rich with experience, hasn’t it?”
“Mm.” She felt a measure of her appetite returning and began to eat slowly. “How long will you stay in California?”
“Until I secure the property.”
