saloon to saloon, looking for the drunken wastrel to whom she was married.
A woman who did those things was not a coward. A woman like that was beyond anything in his experience, but he could be certain that she wouldn’t run from a few provocative words—and the sorry dare he’d come up with couldn’t even be considered provocative.
She was also a woman whose husband had just been shot. Murdered. And for that reason alone, Lucas’s more cowardly self couldn’t find, let alone use, any harder, more ruthless words. No matter that it was a mistake and he knew it, he simply couldn’t force himself to be deliberately cruel to her. Not tonight.
It was too bad, too. A firmer declaration would have made life simpler for them both.
“Drink your coffee,” he said instead.
“I told you. I don’t drink spirits.”
“There isn’t enough liquor in there to make you a drunkard, Ashlynne. Drink the damned stuff. You need it. Hell, I need it. It was damn cold outside.” He took a healthy swig from his own cup.
“I beg your pardon!”
She drew herself up like an outraged little hen, an image that might have made Lucas smile under other circumstances. He didn’t consider it now, not even when she gave him a frown that he guessed was meant to put him in his place. He stared back impassively.
“Hades will freeze over before I am crippled by a need for alcohol in order to survive,” she said, her voice as frosty as the coldest Alaskan night. “I will endure whatever I have to, for however long I have to, and without the aid of a crutch like whiskey.”
“Aha.” He nodded as though understanding suddenly—and he did. “The ills of the world are laid at the feet of that demon liquor. Is that right?”
“Yes.”
“And is that because Ian had a little trouble holding his drink?”
The question sounded like more of a taunt than Lucas had meant, but he didn’t offer an apology. He might not have it in him to be deliberately cruel to Ashlynne, but that didn’t mean he could be kind and gentle, either.
He couldn’t. Nor did he care about finding such softheartedness within himself. That could only lead to more trouble, and he’d had enough of that already.
He had to admire Ashlynne’s composure, however. She blinked at him like a confused little owl and said, “I don’t want to talk about this.” Her voice sounded prim, proper, much as he expected, but then she exposed a sudden desperation when she reached for her coffee and drank.
Did she realize what she’d done? Apparently not, he decided when she gasped and wheezed something that sounded like ack. Her eyes widened, grew watery and remained as clearly amber as the whiskey that laced her coffee.
She’d almost fooled him into believing she had more strength than she could possibly possess.
Lucas chose to ignore both her physical reaction and the reasons for it; she wouldn’t appreciate anything he said. Instead he watched as she sat there, trussed up in her heavy cloak and, once she rid herself of her cup, with her arms crossed protectively over her chest.
What did she think she was guarding herself against? he wondered as a faint smile tilted up the corners of his mouth. There was nothing and no one in the Star—or all of Skagway—who could cause her any more harm than her husband already had.
The smile died and Lucas angled his head in her direction. “Why don’t you take that cloak off before you get overheated? You’ll get sick.”
She glanced down at herself. “I…” She shrugged, as though unable to make the decision whether or not to do as he suggested.
And that was odd, Lucas thought as he watched her. She’d been quick and decisive in her disapproval of him and the Star—and alcohol in general—but she couldn’t decide whether or not to remove her cloak? Had that second taste of alcohol undermined the strength of her reasoning? Or had the reality of her predicament finally struck her?
“Unless you have somewhere else to go?” he prompted when she didn’t move.
“I…no.” She dropped her gaze to the front fastenings that held her cloak secure, moving slowly to work each one free. Finally, when the last one had been unfastened, she shrugged the heavy garment from her shoulders and it fell away, draping down over the back of the chair. “There. Is that better?”
Lucas raised an eyebrow. “You tell me. You’re the one who could have become sick.”
“I’m…fine.”
She was more than fine. He could see that in an entirely new way. She wore a plum-colored gown with a high collar and long sleeves. The only adornment was a bit of black piping and black buttons that decorated the front in an eminently proper style. But the respectable cut and fashion of Ashlynne’s clothing could not disguise the lush shape of her body.
Her cloak had done an admirable job of concealing her form, making Lucas more appreciative of what he now could see. Her breasts curved in generous proportion, and her waist dipped inward with an enticing flare. She had the kind of shape that any man would admire.
What the hell had Ian Mackenzie been thinking of to bring his wife to Skagway? Particularly a wife who looked like Ashlynne?
“What are you going to do now?” The question slipped out before Lucas could think better of it. He didn’t really want to know the answer, didn’t want to learn anything about her past or future. Certainly he didn’t want to understand the woman herself.
But then second, perhaps wiser, thoughts assailed him. Maybe such a question was for the best, after all. He wanted her gone from his life for good—and the sooner the better. A reminder of the reality of her situation might be the best way to accomplish that.
“Tonight?” she asked softly. “Or in the future?”
“Is there a difference?”
“Well, no. I don’t suppose there is.”
“And?”
She glanced away. When she looked back at him, it was for only a moment. “I don’t know.” She shook her head. “I have nowhere to go.”
“Tonight?” He repeated her question. “Or ever?”
“Ever.”
Damn. He narrowed his eyes and told himself not to respond to the look of forlorn confusion that paled her face. Ashlynne Mackenzie must have somewhere else to go. She had to. She couldn’t stay here, at the Star.
At least he could be certain that she’d have no desire to remain in a saloon.
I should have walked away and let Reverend Dickey take care of her.
“What about family, friends?” he asked.
“I don’t have a family. Not anymore. Ian was the last one.” Her voice grew thick with the words and she paused, blinking quickly, repeatedly, as she fought back tears. “I never had many friends. Certainly no one close enough I could turn to now.
“I’m…alone,” she added after a moment.
Alone.
Lucas was alone, too. Well, he had the Star. A place to call his own. It had started out as nothing more than a way to earn a living, but now it had become his home, and friends like Sugar Candy and his bartender, Willie, had become his family.
Ashlynne said she had no one. Lucas could believe it was true, at least in Skagway. But at home, wherever that was? There must be someone.
Lucas leveled her a deliberate look but used the guise of reaching for his cup to mask his intent. He needn’t have bothered; she had dropped her gaze once more, seeming fascinated by her hands, her lap—or something else entirely that he couldn’t see.
She had paled, even, from earlier, and her mouth