The Unlikely Groom. Wendy Douglas

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СКАЧАТЬ to make good on its promise; tonight he drank the expensive stuff, available to any man who could pay the price…and he could. He, in fact, owned the whole damned shebang—or at least this shebang. He sipped the whiskey with an appreciation for which few men in Alaska seemed to have the patience and turned to survey his domain.

      The Star of the North. Lucas smiled and nodded, satisfied by what he saw. It wasn’t much, not by most standards anywhere else in the world. For him, it was everything.

      One of the first saloons in Skagway, he had built it at precisely the right time. He’d had little competition at first and had unwittingly built the Star’s reputation by dealing fairly with his customers and offering a reasonable comfort not often found on the frontier. Now, less than a year later, he continued to enjoy a particular success that few of the others had matched.

      He’d often thought that those who’d come later hadn’t wanted the triumph—or needed it—nearly as badly as he had. He’d even accepted that explanation for at least part of the difference.

      But what about the rest of it?

      He didn’t know for certain, nor had he ever wasted much time trying to figure it out. That kind of thinking could only lead him back to the reasons that this saloon mattered so very much in the first place, and all that was better left in the past. He needed no reminder of the life he’d once led.

      It was enough that this life compared in no way to the one he’d left behind.

      No. He corrected himself with an irritable scowl and tossed back the rest of the whiskey. Not left behind. He hadn’t left a damned thing behind. Everything he’d had had been stolen from him and he’d simply walked away from the devastation that had followed. There had been nothing left, no reason to stay.

      And while it was true that he’d never planned a life such as this one for himself, it would do well enough. His success meant that he could do as he damn well pleased. He never could have done that in his other life. If it could be found in Skagway and he wanted it, he could have it.

      Well, he might not go that far. An inherent trace of humility, the result of his Minnesota upbringing, stopped Lucas before he got too full of himself. He twisted his lips into a parody of a smile and dropped his glass to the well-used wooden table where he sat, then gestured to Willie, behind the bar, for a refill.

      Undoubtedly, he reminded himself, he was in a much better position than most of the men who had poured into Alaska seeking gold over the past six months. And while he would have no trouble covering the expense of his choice of diversions, the reality of affording something and actually having it were two different things altogether.

      He wasn’t exactly sure how much he really wanted the things he could afford. It was damn sure that he didn’t deserve them.

      What do you think, you’ll be tempting God again if you aspire for too much? scoffed an inner voice that sounded entirely too mocking for his taste. And if the question came closer to the truth than Lucas found comfortable, he chose to pretend otherwise. He had other things with which to concern himself, things more important than this ridiculous tendency toward indulging his overdeveloped sense of self-pity.

      Right now, he should be concentrating on the Star and its needs.

      Business had been off tonight. Not necessarily bad, just…off. The atmosphere had been fractious and Lucas had broken up more than one argument that had run closer than usual to turning into a real fight. It might have been the cold that had set tempers on edge; the temperature had plummeted of late, typical enough for an Alaskan winter but trying for those unprepared for it. The brisk north wind in Skagway only made it seem worse.

      Or it might be something else entirely, like the latest outbreak of killings—one a day, some said. Lucas hadn’t kept track, but he had no trouble believing the number. Ever since Soapy Smith and his band of troublemakers had taken over the town six months ago, lawlessness had soared and mayhem had become the rule of the streets.

      “Here you go, sugar.”

      A husky voice interrupted his wandering thoughts and Lucas glanced around. Sugar Candy, as she was known among the men, swept up next to him. She carried with her the cloying scent of roses that he would recognize without ever having to see her. Tonight, she’d fixed her red-tinted hair into a cascade of curls that looked far too formal and proper to suit her formfitting green gown. The dress displayed with astonishing blatancy her full, ample curves and long, slender legs.

      Legs all the way to heaven. He remembered hearing one man describe her that way. Lucas allowed himself a small smile. He could appreciate the sentiment.

      “Thanks, Candy.” He took the glass and did his best to ignore the way she preened under his attention. Such a response always made him uncomfortable.

      He didn’t drink right away but instead set the glass on the table, next to the empty one. Candy didn’t move away.

      “You want some company to go with that?”

      He didn’t, not really. And yet he didn’t particularly want to sit here alone, either. He didn’t need the chance for his mind to wander back to those places and thoughts better left alone.

      “All right.” He gestured to the chair opposite him. “Sit down.”

      And so, he thought, he would pass the night—and his life—drinking expensive whiskey and wasting his time on a whore who meant nothing to him. It was exactly as he expected.

      Exactly as he deserved.

      And if he ever wished for something else?

      Lucas blinked and shook his head. He didn’t. He wouldn’t. He knew better. He was lucky to have this much.

      He picked up the shot glass and drank.

      Ashlynne Mackenzie stepped into the saloon with no more fanfare than was necessary. Just the thought of where she was and what she was doing caused her to shiver. She managed to suppress it by sheer strength of will. She couldn’t afford the weakness or even the appearance of it.

      What was the name of this place? Ashlynne looked around but saw nothing in particular to distinguish this saloon from the others she’d been in tonight. It was loud and bright, cheerful in a frenetic sort of way, and a good deal warmer than the outdoors.

      Even that couldn’t make her like it here. She didn’t.

      A saloon?

      A saloon. The truth repeated itself in a heavy, condemning voice.

      Oh, God.

      What was she doing here? But she knew. This was, after all, the fifth or sixth one she’d been in. Ashlynne couldn’t remember for certain—and maybe, she thought, she didn’t want to remember. It was bad enough that she found herself here at all. Worse, she didn’t see Ian anywhere in this place, either.

      Ashlynne swallowed a disappointed sigh and crossed her arms over her chest. The night was bitterly cold and a terrible draft blew in beneath the poorly hung door, but the chill had nothing to do with the way she stood. That was due to other, far more important reasons. Such as, with her arms clutched around herself and her hands tucked away, no one could see that she trembled.

      Take your time, she reminded herself with as much cheerful encouragement as she could muster. She took a breath and looked СКАЧАТЬ