Wynn fell back in his chair. "Should we expect the authorities?"
Nicholas chortled. The man was quick to fall on his law instincts.
"No."
Christopher's eyes travelled over him. "Well your fists aren't bruised and by your own admission you did something to the man."
Nicholas nodded and with a nonchalant tone he responded, "I shot him with his own pistol... whilst he was still holding it." He paused and then shrugged and finished the tale. "I also gave the little Wildcat a taste of what she can expect the next time she attempts to play me for a fool."
"And what was that?" Cristopher asked.
"A spanking, of course."
Christopher erupted in laughter while Wynn groaned, probably already contemplating the legal repercussions.
Christopher's mirth settled. "Thank you, Nicholas. I needed a good laugh before I face this day."
Suddenly, the room went sombre everyone's mind set back on the agenda that brought them to America. Nicholas wished this heavy burden was not on his friend's shoulders. He already had enough sorrow to last him a life time. It was moments like these that he thanked God for bringing Melanie into his life.
They had just arrived in America the day before to deal with the burning down of the McCarthy oil mines. The damage was great and the fatality a large number, and since the last update, growing. Christopher had never faced such a huge misfortune since he took over the mines and the blow had hit him hard. It was only a few months ago, Nicholas had voyaged to America to settle a third of its sale to an American, him having just settled the payment of his third.
The deal did not go well and negotiations had been postponed for a later date, but with this tragedy, Nicholas did not see it coming to pass.
Yes, as part owner of the mines he too should feel bereft but he'd only been an owner for a week prior to the disaster. He had yet to form any attachment to it, and the loss it would cause would not be too great to not allow recovery. Christopher's shipping business that he had also invested in was thriving and soon, he would own half of the two new ships being built.
Thanks to his friend, he was doing well and could focus more his ventures for steel.
Yes, he was successful thanks to his best friend's hard work and that was why he was always there to support him when needed.
Nicholas stood up. "Ready, brother?"
Christopher afforded him a tight smile and rose tiredly from the chair. "I could never be prepared for a matter like this, but, I have no choice in the matter other than to be ready."
*****
Lydia laid in her bed, staring up at the ceiling, her thoughts on the Englishman. She'd dreamed about him and the pleasure he gave her. But in her dreams, they went further than just the dark hallway of the Dallas Palace.
They were in a large room standing close to a large four post bed, with sheer fabric falling on all four sides. The room has flooded with light from the numerous candles with twice the number of white roses—her favourite flower. He walked towards her, wearing nothing but his breeches—his broad chest, lined tight abdomen and thick shoulders and arms exposed to her. His eyes held hers in an intense gaze, a rose held to his lips. She could see desire in his eyes, and something else that tugged at her heart.
He stopped before her and pulled the rose away from his lips, exposing a faint smile. Without a word he traced the rose down the side of her face, brushed it against her lips and down her neck to the furrow between her breasts. She sighed, closing her eyes, enjoying the feathery tickle of the rose. Then she felt it draw over her breasts, over a soft fabric. She opened her eyes and stared at her chest. She was draped in a white satin nightdress that hung low with a slit between her breasts, exposing just enough of her to entice him.
He tapped her chin with the rose, beckoning her to look up at him. She lifted her head and met his searing gaze that made her chest heave harder.
"You are beautiful, Lydia," he whispered huskily, holding the rose to her lips.
She almost cried with happiness when she heard her name. He'd called her Lydia, not Wildcat!
With his free hand, he combed his fingers through the waves of curls of her hair. He then lifted a lock of it and held it to his nose. He breathed in deep and smiled. He released her hair and took her hand. He placed the rose in it then moved his hands to her shoulders.
Lydia knew what he was about to do next and she felt nervous and yet excited. She felt her body shiver as her breaths grew short. She looked away from him. She was frightened. Most of her life she always pushed the fear behind determination to get what she wanted and survive. But this was different. There was nothing she was fighting for, and nothing to push the fear behind.
She felt his fingers on her chin as he gently turned her head back to him. "There is nothing to fear, Lydia, my beautiful rose. I will love you like no one ever has."
Yes, that was what she wanted. To be loved, to be made to feel she mattered in someone's life. "Please," she begged, a tear escaping.
"Sshh," he whispered, wiping the tear away from her cheek.
He brushed the straps of her nightdress off her shoulders and slowly lowered the fabric down to the floor, his fingers tracing a path down the sides of her body. She closed her eyes, her body shivering from more than just the cold. She felt his hands trace lightly from her ankles, up her calves, past her knees and stopping at her thighs. She gasped when she felt his lips on one thigh as the other gained attention from his hand—he stroked her gently up and down as he kissed her with his lips and tongue.
"My Lydia, my beautiful little Lydia," he whispered, his breath tickling her bare skin.
He stood up, grabbed her ass and lifted her up. She wrapped her legs about his waist as her arms settled around his neck. He lifted her slightly higher, wrapped his hand in her hair and pulled her head back to expose her neck. He grazed her neck with his lips, nibbled on her jaw then pushed her head up to capture her lips in a light kiss.
She felt them move backwards towards the bed as he kissed her, whispering the sweetest words she'd ever heard. He lowered her on the soft bed, covered with satin pink sheets and climbed atop her. She loved the feel of his weight completely covering her body.
A banging from afar grew louder and louder, shadowing his sweet words. It annoyed her. She turned her face into his neck and kissed him. "Say them louder, please."
Then he shouted, "Lydia!"
And that marked the end of her wonderful dream.
She woke up with a start at her landlady's coarse voice and the banging on her door. Lydia's room was so small the noise bounced off the walls in an echo. She fell back against the bed and ignored the annoying woman.
She wasn't able to fall back to sleep, back to her fantasy, so she got up and readied herself for work. She worked as the midwife's assistant on weekends—unless when it was time to birth a babe. They had seven expectant mothers to visit, and out of all her jobs this one gave her the most pleasure and peace.
Lydia met with her landlady at the ground floor, and with her were two men—the fat one was dressed like her Englishman and the other too drunk to stand straight.
Well, not her Englishman and the drunkard looked very familiar but she couldn't recall from where.
"Why were you ignoring me?" her landlady barked.
Lydia kept her gaze on the drunk while she answered, "How is it possible to ignore the pounding that almost felled my door?"
"So why did you not answer?"
She turned her attention to her landlady. "I know this isn't a respectable inn, but common courtesy should not be lost to you." She stared at the drunken man again, ignoring her landlady's sneer and attempted to place his face. He could barely keep on his feet as he swayed from side to side. He opened his half-mast