The Unlikely Groom

Besides, she didn’t yet know if he could help her.

She forced herself to ignore her inner uncertainties and looked at Templeton once more, straight-on this time. “His name is Ian Mackenzie. Have you seen him?”

Templeton shrugged with little apparent interest. “I don’t know. I don’t know every man who comes into the Star. I don’t even know most of them. What does he look like?”

Anxiously, Ashlynne began her recitation. “He’s tall, although not as tall as you are.” Her gaze skittered away when she heard how personal her observation sounded and she hurried on. “His hair is dark and he’s dressed…well—” she waved a hand toward the room in general “—I suppose like most of the men here.”

Realizing what she’d done, she retucked her not-quite-steady hand under the opposite arm before anyone—most especially Lucas Templeton—could notice.

He didn’t seem impressed with her words, nor did he show any interest in her movements. He lifted an eyebrow to disappear beneath the hair that had fallen over his forehead. “You just described half the men here.”

“Yes, it would seem so.” She couldn’t argue with the truth. “We’ve been in Skagway a few days and—”

“A cheechako?” The word sounded like the same accusation as whenever else Ashlynne had heard it. No one wanted to be a greenhorn, it seemed; they all wanted the knowledge and experience of a seasoned Alaskan.

A sourdough.

“Yes,” she agreed.

“What makes you think he’d be in here?”

Ashlynne swallowed a weary sigh. She had no intention of admitting to this man—or to anyone—that she had no idea where Ian might be.

He’d been so good on board the ship. Then they’d arrived and the frenzied excitement of Skagway had immediately taken hold of him, like the first taste of alcohol to a drunk. Ian had reverted to his old habits so quickly, Ashlynne still didn’t quite know how it had happened.

She did know her brother, however—and better than she might have liked at times. The only things he might require for an evening’s entertainment would be women, gambling and liquor. The Star of the North boasted all three.

Why wouldn’t he come here?

“Is something wrong, sugar?”

A new voice intruded and Ashlynne realized that she’d missed the approach of another woman. A woman who belonged in a place like this.

The newcomer sidled up behind Templeton and slipped her arm around his waist to stand next to him, hip to hip. Her red hair appeared quite shocking at first, but a second look gave it more of a hint of the…exotic. She was tall—nowhere near Templeton’s height but claiming several inches over Ashlynne—and she had the kind of figure that appealed to men. It was a perfect hourglass, accented most daringly by the snug fit of her emerald-green silk gown and its décolletage.

“Nothing’s wrong, Candy.” Templeton didn’t turn to look at the woman as he spoke but continued to stare in Ashlynne’s direction.

“What’s she doing here?” Candy narrowed her eyes a fraction to shoot Ashlynne a look undoubtedly more distrustful than welcoming.

“Looking for someone.” Finally, Templeton released Ashlynne from the grip of his glare and slanted a glance in Candy’s direction instead. “His name’s Ian Mackenzie. Have you seen him?”

The other woman shrugged in a seductive, graceful way that Ashlynne could never imitate—and why would she want to? She didn’t want to be anything like these women who worked in saloons, and she didn’t want to have anything to do with a man like Lucas Templeton.

“I don’t know,” Candy was saying. “I suppose I could have seen him.” She looked at Ashlynne and winked, her painted lips curving upward with a knowing smile. “You know I don’t always get their names, sugar. What’s he look like?”

“Like most of the men in Skagway,” Templeton snapped with clear impatience. “And he hasn’t been in here tonight.”

“Well, I’ll be gla-ad—” Candy extended the word to two syllables “—to keep an eye out for him. If I find him…”

“Go on back to the table,” said Templeton.

“But, sugar—”

“Go on.” He indicated the room behind him with a jerk of his head but otherwise didn’t move. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

Candy cast a frown of pure frustration in Ashlynne’s direction, then flounced away with a sharp rustle of her skirts.

Could she ever achieve that same effect, both feminine and dramatic at the same time? The question stunned Ashlynne with its secret jealousy. She lowered her lashes in shame as the now familiar breathlessness began to fill her chest again. Oh, God, this night, this place…

“It doesn’t look like I can help you.” Templeton’s voice, low and rough, didn’t disguise his impatience. “Nobody named Ian Mackenzie has been in here tonight.”

She swallowed a tired sigh and nodded with the same weariness. “Yes, of course. It’s as I expected. Thank you.”

And then, before any other foolishness—or Lucas Templeton’s handsome face—got the better of her, she turned away. Gathering her determination—and whatever composure was left to her—Ashlynne stepped out into the cold night air and started for the next saloon.

Things continued to go from bad to worse!

Left to his own devices, Lucas discovered with some disgust that he’d lost any real taste for whiskey or women. He frowned. He’d been content enough to relax and sip his whiskey, with or without Candy’s company. So why had that changed? He refused to believe it had been because of Ashlynne Mackenzie’s very temporary interruption.

But that thought did bring up another question. What the hell did she think she was doing, going from saloon to saloon looking for her wastrel husband? Lucas could hardly berate her for her choice of mates; he didn’t know enough about her situation to do so. But her reckless actions would be risky enough in most civilized parts of the world. To do so here, in Skagway? She must have been out of her mind—or as naive as she looked.

Recalling his first sight of Ashlynne, Lucas might have smiled if he hadn’t sensed such…trouble about her. She’d stood by the door, so clearly out of place and with her arms crossed protectively over her chest. Her dark blue cloak had wrapped around her like a suit of armor. She was of average height, though the rest of her shape had been far less apparent. She’d peered around the room with obvious unease, as though she’d just stumbled into a nest of vipers.

That thought, finally, gave Lucas a crooked twist of a smile. Some might well say that she had—and she hardly looked the part for such a task.

She couldn’t have been older than twenty, or just past the age. Her hair was the color of mink and she’d scraped it back from her face in a severe hairstyle that should have done nothing to make her look attractive. It had, in fact, accented each of her features at their most elemental: high forehead, arched cheekbones, painfully straight nose and full, finely shaped lips. Her eyes had provided the most surprise; they’d flickered with a golden light that was nothing if not the color of whiskey.

Lucas settled back in his chair at the same table where he always sat and thought about Ashlynne Mackenzie’s eyes. He hadn’t seen anything quite like them, expressive and yet guarded at the same time. But then, that described nearly everything about her. She was nothing like the working girls who made their ways north. Aside from that, she was worlds different from Emily.

His stomach knotted and he signaled for another drink. Maybe he hadn’t been in the mood moments ago, but now, suddenly, he needed the alcohol. The last thing he could tolerate were comparisons between Emily and a woman he didn’t even know. There could be no comparison. Emily had been…special. Unique. A woman not quite of this earth. And Ashlynne Mackenzie was…not. She was simply one more woman who had most likely made a questionable match and now had to live with the consequences.

It was none of his concern.

“You thirsty, sugar?”

Candy sidled up from behind him, scattering his thoughts as she delivered whiskey in a fresh glass. She bent low, hesitating long enough to draw considerable attention to the thrust of her breasts. Balancing herself with one hand on his shoulder, she offered him a seductive smile and leaned close, running her fingers down his chest and toying with the buttons of his vest beneath the suit jacket. Instinct urged him to pull away, but something else—some latent sense of self-preservation—stopped him. He needed to put behind him these unnerving memories of Emily, these unwelcome thoughts of Ashlynne Mackenzie. There could be no better way to do it than with another—and most certainly available—woman.

He lifted one corner of his mouth in a smile. “Where have you been, Candy? Looking for a better man?”

She gave him a wide smile of her own, made up of equal parts knowing seduction and wicked invitation. “There isn’t a better man in all of Skagway, sugar. I was just giving you some time to remember there’s no better woman than me.”

Lucas couldn’t help himself. He laughed at Candy’s audacity and took a moment to remind himself of just how much a man he was. Not only that, but Candy was most definitely a woman. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t a man worth wanting—at least not in the traditional sense. Anything between Candy and him had nothing to do with that.

It was only sex and nothing permanent.

He reached up to tangle his fingers with hers. “Just what did you have in mind?” he asked in a voice pitched low enough to sound deliberately suggestive.

Candy smiled, a familiar expression that spoke of both seduction and attraction—and generated little response within Lucas. Uneasy, he searched for another smile, a real one this time, and parted his lips when she leaned farther down.