SanFrancisco
Madeline was pouting. “I don’t want you to leave.”
Brigham removed her arms from around his neck. “Lower your voice. Samuel will hear you.”
“I doubt that. He’s got his Chinese whore with him tonight.”
“You really hate Pei Ling, don’t you?”
“Why shouldn’t I? Until Lydia brought her into this house Samuel was faithful to me.”
“Somehow I doubt the reverse was true,” Brigham said. He gave the silk belt around Madeline’s waist a little tug, tightening it, and stepped away from her. “Why he ever put up with your infidelities is beyond me.”
Madeline sucked in her sulky lower lip and abandoned her seductive posture. She moved to her vanity, sat down, and began brushing her hair with hard, quick strokes. “Samuel knows I married him to get a name for my baby. There was never any pretense about it.”
“The way I understood it, you could have had O’Malley’s name.”
“As if I’d have wanted it,” she said coldly. Her hair swirled around her shoulders as Madeline swiveled on her stool. “I don’t want you to go tomorrow.”
“So you’ve said. The passage’s been booked though and I have every intention of leaving in the morning.”
“Why is it so important to you? Does it mean so much that Nathan’s won?”
It means everything,Brigham thought. What he said was, “He hasn’t won yet. Not if I can persuade your daughter to come with me.”
“Her note said she was married to him.”
“We both know he made her write that. There’s no record of their marriage anywhere in San Francisco.” He slanted her a considering look. “What difference would marriage make? You’d come with me if I asked you.”
“Ask me.”
Brigham didn’t hesitate. “Take George’s place on the ship tomorrow.”
Madeline blinked. “You’re really serious, aren’t you?”
“Deadly.” He smiled. “Well?”
“You’re mad. Why would I travel to that miserable country when I have everything I want here?”
Brigham walked over to Madeline. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he gave her a light push and turned her on the stool to face the mirror. Standing behind her, his eyes caught hers in reflection. “Do you really have everything?” he asked. “Think you’ll find another lover like I’ve been to you?”
“Don’t be absurd,” she said coolly. Pride dictated her response. “Of course I will. You think too much of yourself. You always have.”
“A moment ago you were begging me to stay.”
“Hardly begging. Begging would be writing it down in an impassioned love letter.I can’t live without you.Or some other sort of drivel like that.”
Brigham went to her escritoire and took out a sheet of notepaper and a pen. He brought it back and laid it on the vanity in front of her. “Write it down. I like impassioned love letters.”
“You have a dozen, I suppose.”
“Not a one.” Madeline picked up the pen and wroteIcan’t live withbefore Brigham stayed her hand. “It’s enough,” he said. He raised her hand and kissed it.
“If I really wanted you to stay,” she said, removing her hand from his, “I’d tell Samuel what was in Nathan’s letter that we destroyed. My husband would see that you’d spend the next ten years in jail.”
“Threatening me, Madeline?” The way his fingers whispered across her collarbone took the hard edge off his voice. Reaching over her, Brig opened the middle drawer of her vanity and pulled out a silk scarf. He pushed aside one shoulder of Madeline’s robe and trailed the scarf lightly over her skin, watching her reaction in the mirror.
Madeline caught the end of the scarf and twisted her hand, wrapping the scarf around her wrist. Brigham still held the other end. She stood, the blue flame leaping in her darkening eyes, and used the scarf as a leading ribbon to make him follow her to the bed. She lay down, pulling him with her, and kissed him hotly on the lips, loosening the belt of her robe with her free hand. The robe opened. Brigham’s hand closed over her breast, kneading it, brushing the nipple so it stood up hard and stiff. She cried out when his mouth replaced his hand.
