Page 59 of Fairest of Heart

Narcissa stiffened. The magnificent Madame LaBelle would not be cowed by a man. She was in charge in this relationship.

As if his touch excited her, Narcissa leaned into him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Of course I care about you, Cecil. I need you.”

She laid a trail of kisses along his jawline, then nibbled on his earlobe. His breath caught, and satisfaction surged through her.

She pressed her body against his and murmured in his ear. “The only reason I got so upset was because we need those stones to start our life together.” Pulling back slightly, she walked her fingers along the arm extending from his shoulder to her throat to a hand that was quickly relaxing its grip in order to slide lower. Narcissa smiled and gave his hand a little nudge in the right direction. “I’m tired of all this traveling.” She puckered her lips in a sultry pout and watched his gaze zero in on her mouth. “Moving from one town to the next with no reprieve. It’s exhausting.”

Narcissa undid the button at the top of his shirt. Cecil inhaled. The power had shifted, just as she’d known it would. He was completely at her mercy, and that was the way it would stay.

“Aren’t you tired of all these games, Cecil? Aren’t you ready for the two of us to finally be together?”

A growl tore from his throat as he clasped her to him. “You know I am.”

“Then we must get those jewels back,” she said as she stretched her head backward and gave him room to kiss her neck. She added an extra dose of huskiness to her voice. “It’s the only way we can start the new life we want.”

Well, she’d start the new life she wanted. He’d have to adjust what he wanted a bit since she planned to leave him for Europe at the earliest opportunity. He could keep the gold and silver from the settings though. Payment for his work and motivation for him to keep her secrets after she left. Shared guilt was an excellent silencer.

“I’ll go with you next time,” she vowed. “You were right. I should take on more of the responsibility in reclaiming what we lost.”

He pulled back and looked at her, disbelief shining in his eyes.

It was rare for her to admit that someone else might be right about something. Not that she was wrong, of course. She wasn’t. If Cecil had taken care of Miss Snow properly in the first place, they wouldn’t be in this mess. He could have simply retrieved the corset from her corpse, and all would be well. But no. He’d left her where she could be found. Rescued. Now the industrious little hussy had wormed her way onto a ranch beneath the protection of not one but several men.

Thankfully, they were old men. Narcissa’s specialty.

But what about the young one? The one who’d chased Cecil? She’d have to get more information on that, but now wasn’t the time. She had to rid Cecil of his frustration and make him more pliable to her will first.

Clasping Cecil’s hand, she led him toward the bed, laughing playfully as she tugged. “We obviously need to give you a lesson in ladies’ corsets before we make another attempt to retrieve the one we seek.” Narcissa turned her back toward him so he could unfasten the buttons running down her spine. She twisted her face over one shoulder and gave him a saucy look. “I suggest we start by studying the one I’m wearing. What do you say?”

His fingers tore through her buttons, providing all the answer she needed.

———

Half an hour later, Narcissa slipped out of bed, leaving Cecil to doze. She needed to think. To plan. Without wasting precious energy placating a prickly subordinate.

She crossed to her dressing table and slid into the silk wrapper waiting for her, not bothering with donning any of the undergarments that lay scattered about the floor. The maid could deal with those in the morning. Besides, she rather enjoyed the feel of the silk against her skin, reminding her of all the fine things she would enjoy as the wife of a nobleman. She knotted the robe’s tie loosely around her waist, then sat upon a cushioned stool. Light from the streetlamp outside her room filtered through the lace curtains to provide a soft glow in the room, one that flattered her reflection, erasing lines and imperfections. Returning to her the beauty of her youth.

“You’re a triumph, Narcissa,” she whispered to her reflection, meeting her own gaze and willing the naïve girl in the mirror to believe it.

The girl who’d hungered to be more than a farmer’s wife. She was special. Everyone said so. Her face so fair, her figure so comely. She’d been blessed by God. Well, she’d not waste her gift by pushing out babies and working from sunup to sundown until she withered on the vine like her mother. She deserved more than a life of hard work and scant luxuries.

Her mother had begged her not to go to the city. She warned of dangerous men who would use her for their own purposes, then discard her. But Narcissa went anyway. And never looked back. Partly out of shame when her first months in Chicago had proven her mother right. But mostly because she knew the future she wanted was out there, and she was willing to do whatever it took to attain it.

So she’d endured the pawing hands and leering grins when she got her first job singing in a dance hall. She’d watched how the girls who worked upstairs handled their clients and took notes. Beauty didn’t open the right doors on its own. A woman had to be cunning in how she used it. Like any weapon, those who mastered its use positioned themselves for victory. No emotion or sentiment. Only calculation. In time, she learned to recognize the men who could be manipulated and those who couldn’t and only gave herself to those who could give her something in return. Opportunity. Power.

“You’re a triumph,” she repeated, her eyes narrowing slightly. “And you will have the life you deserve.”

Unfortunately, to do that, she’d need to convince Billings to take the tour out of Texas now that the Rangers were involved. Not only had they managed to connect the thefts, they’d started sniffing around her troupe, putting her in a vulnerable position. Vulnerable was not acceptable. They’d have to divert. Go north to Denver after finishing in Texas as they’d planned. Just a bit earlier than originally scheduled. Their tentative booking with the Elitch Theatre was a couple of months away, but they’d bump up the engagement. Surely, a big-name talent from Chicago outweighed any two-bit vaudeville acts currently on the books. Billings possessed a knack for negotiating. He’d see to it.

After Denver, they’d head to San Francisco. Play a few houses there, then dissolve the troupe. She’d take a train to Galveston, catch a steamer to Europe, and all this unpleasantness would be behind her. She might not have quite as large a nest egg as she’d hoped, but she’d make do. She always did.

Drat those Rangers, though. None of the other states she’d passed through had given her any trouble. Local law handled each case individually, never suspecting the thefts were connected. Of course, all the other states she’d passed through had been significantly smaller, so even if a lawman or two started to piece things together, she was well out of their jurisdiction before they could act. Texas was too large, and she’d been operating inside its borders too long. A situation she would rectify as soon as she had her corset back. The real one. She scowled through the mirror at the garment crumpled against the wall where she’d thrown it earlier. Not that frumpy excuse for a . . .

Narcissa swiveled on her stool until her gaze landed on the white clump by the wall. She rose from her seat and sauntered over to the place where the undergarment lay. She picked it up. Sturdy. Well-worn. With shoulder straps one didn’t usually see on such a piece. A health corset. One shaped for a narrow waist and large bust. One worn by a deceitful little maid who thought to hide her figure and make Narcissa look the fool. One that had been left behind by that maid until a certain Ranger took it, along with the rest of her belongings, in an effort to track her down. The fact that she had it in her possession when Cecil found her meant the Ranger had found her first. Found her but hadn’t arrested her.

Narcissa strangled the corset in a quickly tightening fist. She would not be outperformed by an inexperienced child. If Miss Snow was no longer a suspect, Narcissa would have to provide the Rangers with a new one. Her gaze shifted to the man sleeping in her bed, and her grip on the corset relaxed. Two problems, one solution. A smile slowly stretched across her face.

Cecil had already shown himself a villain. Abducting poor maids and ransacking their rooms in the dead of night. Taking advantage of long-standing friendships with actresses who were too trusting.