Chapter Thirty-Seven

Sometime in the middle of the night, Adam was awakened by Shiloh's movements around and over him. Still groggy and with his eyes still closed, he could feel the warmth of her skin pressing against his and the softness of her lips moving over his face to his eyes, his cheeks and his mouth, and when he finally opened his eyes, she was there just above him, her lips parted and full, her eyes hungry.

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The dim light of morning had just begun to creep across the room when Adam woke up. He didn't move at first. Shiloh's head lay on his chest just under his chin. Both had fallen asleep that way. Her hair covered his right arm and her right hand was still clasped with his left. He smiled, then laughed to himself. Shades of the woman she had become during their last trip to San Francisco were beginning to emerge since the attack. The rumble of laughter in his chest made her stir. Holding her tightly to him, he rolled her to her back and buried his face in her hair as he yawned.

She smiled, running her fingers into the curls on the back of his head and whispering, "I'm sorry I disturbed your sleep."

"If that's what you call disturbing, you can disturb me anytime," he answered as he kissed her neck and jaw. He raised his head to look at her, and she turned her face away. "What's wrong?" he asked softly.

Her smile was gone. "I look better in the dark."

Turning her face back to him, he looked lovingly at her. "They're almost gone." Then he kissed the faint bruises around her eyes, her mouth and her jaw.

"I need to take a bath this morning before we go," she said as she enjoyed his attentions.

"Good thing I asked Jim last night if he could arrange to have a bath prepared for you this morning." He took his time with his next kiss, making her toes curl. "First, let's have a look at that ankle."

When he started to rise, she pulled him back down for another kiss. "You haven't had a bath either. Would you care to share?"

He cocked his head with a pleased look. "Yes. Now, let me see your ankle." As he sat up on the side of the bed, she moved her legs to his lap.

A shudder ran through her as he ran his hand down her thigh and over her knee. "That's not my ankle."

"Didn't anyone ever tell you that patience is a virtue? I'm getting there." She felt his fingers wrap around her ankle. "It's not hot."

"I don't know if you noticed, but I'm not a horse."

"It would still be warm. It doesn't look swollen, but it looks like you have half an egg on the side of it, and it's still a little green." He gently squeezed. "How does it feel?"

"It's a little sore, but it's not bad."

"Alright then. Let's go get clean and fed, and then leave. Jim's loaning us a buggy, so we can tie Eli and Apollo to the back, and Micah can lead Clyde."

She cackled, "Clyde?"

He shrugged and opened the door between the room and the washroom, bowing. "After you, my love."

She took a tentative step, testing her ankle, and then gingerly stepped past him.

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When they arrived in San Francisco, Adam drove straight to the Lick House. "We'll get settled in our room, and then figure out our schedules." He dug his watch out of his pocket. "It's already three. There's no point in going to the courthouse site today. I wouldn't be able to do much, but the Slaters will want to know we're here."

The doorman walked out to the buggy. "Your name, Sir?"

"Cartwright. I'd like to store the buggy and these horses in your stables. This is Mr. Whitney. He'll be accompanying your stable hand with our horses." Turning to Micah, Adam said, "Tell them to bill the room for everything and make sure these three get oat hay. They should store the saddles, too." Micah nodded and followed the stable hand.

The doorman followed the Cartwrights into the hotel, placing their bags and Micah's next to the front desk, and introducing them to the desk clerk.

"Ah, Mr. Cartwright, it's nice to have you back. I have a two bedroom suite for you on the third floor as you requested."

"There's another gentleman with us; Micah Whitney. He'll need a key to the room as well. And I'd like to have a note delivered and a telegram sent."

"Adam, I need to have a note delivered, too."

The desk clerk produced pencils and paper, and the two began to write. "To whom are you sending a note?" asked Adam.

"Terrance Prescott…to let him know I'm here and schedule an appointment."

"I don't want you to see him by yourself."

She stopped writing and turned to face him, batting her eyelashes. "Why?" she asked impertinently.

"Because he's liable to be disrespectful and may try to take advantage of your current condition."

She cast her eyes down, and after a moment turned forward and finished her note, sliding it over to him. "Excuse me."

Adam stopped writing, and though he didn't look at her, he felt her move away. If she had been herself, she would have objected in a voice that was entirely too sweet. Instead, she dropped the subject like a hot coal and separated herself from him. He looked back for her. She had taken a seat in the lobby and waited on the edge of it with her hands clasped in front of her, looking down at the floor. She was definitely not doing as well as he had begun to believe. He called to her when it was time to go to their suite, and she obediently fell in line with him.

The ride in the lift was quiet, and other than the normal affair of dealing with the bellman, it remained quiet between them until the door was closed, and they were alone. They stood only about ten feet apart, but for Adam, it seemed as if they were miles apart.

Opening her mouth to speak, she froze and seemed to think about what to say, then just pointed to the bedroom to which she went immediately and closed the door behind her.

Adam stood looking at the place she had been standing with his mouth slightly open. He bent his head and scratched behind his ear, then followed her and quietly opened the door, finding her seated at the dressing table with her hands together as if in prayer, her thumbs under her chin and the sides of her index fingers pressed against her lips. Even though she was facing the mirror, she wasn't really looking in the mirror. Her eyes were sad; a sadness that ran deep and tore at his heartstrings.

When she realized he was in the room, she sat up straight and took a deep breath, then stood and began unpacking their bags.

"Shiloh?"

She swallowed hard and fought to keep her voice steady as she spoke. "Yes, Adam?"

"Talk to me."

She pulled a dress out of her bag, put a smile on her face and turned. "What would you like to talk about?" she asked, glancing at him as she walked past him toward the wardrobe.

By the time he got to her, the dress was on a hanger. He took it from her and hung it in the wardrobe, then took her hands, moving to the bed and sitting. "Whatever is bothering you, you don't have to hide it from me."

Looking down at their hands, she spoke so quietly he could barely hear her. "I'm trying."

"I know you're trying, but you shouldn't be trying for me. You should be doing that for yourself. Now, I know you would normally have objected to my remark about someone going with you to see Prescott, but Sweetheart, I don't think you're ready to deal with a man like that. You know that what happened to you at the hands of Stewart has been a subject for the newspapers for awhile, and a man like Prescott would not have second thoughts about taking advantage of you because of it."

"I know you're right. That's why I didn't argue. Mostly, I'm angry at myself."

He raised her face with a finger under her chin. "Why?"

"I should be able to handle a man like Prescott one way or another; either charm him or tell him what he can do with his carriage. But part of me is…" she teared up, "…afraid." When her nose wrinkled, he knew tears would follow. He pulled her into him, laying her head on his chest and stroking her hair. "I don't want to feel like this," she sniffed, "but I can't seem to stop."

"You're trying to do too much too soon. You don't have to do anything, Sweetheart. We can tell Prescott you're not up to it, and if we need to, we can cancel your performances for awhile."

Her head shot up off his chest, and she looked frantically at him. "No, we need the money to buy the mining equipment."

"No, we do not," he said emphatically, moving his hands to the sides of her head and holding her eyes with his.

"You said it would be better if we didn't have to take out any loans."

"It's always better if we don't take out any loans, so we don't have to pay interest, but I'm not worried about paying the loans. The mine will do that easily."

She wilted. "Adam, I can't cancel. We've already signed contracts and taken half the payment. And if I cancel now, they may not want me back. Besides, the first performance is almost two months away." Taking his hands again, she looked back at his eyes. "I want you to let me handle Prescott…alone."

Breathing deeply, he furrowed his brow. The corners of her mouth turned up somewhat when he pushed his lips out slightly; not a pout, but enough to define the elegant curve of his upper lip against his full lower lip. "No."

The word pulled her back from her thoughts. "No? But…"

There was a knock at the door. Adam stood to get it while he spoke. "You're not ready. And I'm not ready to leave you to someone like Prescott."

Following, she objected, "If I don't try sometime, I'll never be able to."

"Thank you, he said, taking a note from the attendant and closing the door. "You will. But you need to give yourself some time." He opened the envelope, then walked to her and kissed her forehead. "This will take your mind off of it. We're having dinner at the Slater's tonight."