Anything for You (30 page)

She curved her fingers along his nape and steered his lips over hers. Hungrily he pushed her back into the mattress as his mouth brought her delight. She forgot the twinge of pain along her jaw as he warmed her face with kisses while his fingers caressed her. When he bent to sample the length of her throat, he pulled back. She opened her eyes to see his frown before he tilted her head away to look at the red marks there.

“You're lucky he didn't slit your throat,” he snarled.

She shivered. “Don't say that, Adam. Please, for the love of heaven, don't say that.”

“Gypsy, what's wrong?”

“What's wrong?” she gasped. “What do you think is wrong? That man nearly kills me, and you make it into a joke!”

He caught her face between his thumb and forefinger. “I find nothing amusing about this.”

She brushed her aching elbow against the mattress and moaned.

Adam pushed up her sleeve to discover the swelling along her upper forearm. Cautiously he probed the colorful bruise to make sure no bones were broken. Looking into her eyes, which were jeweled with unshed tears, he swore. “He plays rough. I'll have to give him some lessons on how to treat a lady the next time we meet.”

“I was ready to play rough, too.”

“You?”

“He used the stick he hit you with to knock his knife out of my hand.” She held her pillow to her chest like a shield. “I would have stabbed him if he hadn't. He was going to kill you.”

Adam wiped away a tear sliding down her cold cheek. That she had defended him with the fervor of a she-bear protecting her cub did not astound him. That she would attempt to kill a man to save him did. The man would come back for her, and Adam could not wait to repay him for destroying her gentle spirit.

“It's time for the truth, Gypsy, about what you're afraid of.”

“You haven't figured out what I'm frightened of?”

He put his arm around her quivering shoulders and looked into her hooded eyes. “Gypsy, the truth. Not about the attack today, but what happened before. What's frightening you so much that you're hiding here?”

“How—” Swallowing roughly, she whispered, “Is it that obvious?”

He smiled swiftly, but his dark brows lowered. “It is to me. After this, it's going to be obvious to everyone.”

“They told me I was overreacting, that it was just sad coincidence.”

“They? Who?”

“My family.” She bit her lip, then whispered, “Before they died.”

“How?”

Gypsy flexed her right hand to be sure she would be able to use it when she started preparing breakfast. “It all started after the siege—”

“Which one?”

Pain coursed up her arm as she adjusted it to rest on her lap. “Petersburg.”

“In Virginia?”

“Yes.” She put her hand on his arm. “Forgive me for not trusting you, Adam, but I've been fleeing for so long I don't dare to trust anyone. Until you came here, no one questioned that I wasn't from Mississippi. Most of the men here are from New England or Canada. To them, one Southern accent sounds like any other.”

He waved aside her apology. “The siege was over in '65.”

She closed her eyes. “At first, I wanted to believe it was coincidence. That's what everyone told me it was. My brother was slain after being mustered out of his unit. He was killed only a few miles from Petersburg. Of course, none of the authorities cared about the fate of a Johnny Reb. My mother died before winter that year.”

“How?”

Her hand went to the red line on her neck. “Her throat was slit.”

“And they called
that
a coincidence?”

She shuddered and sagged against the pillows. Opening her mouth, she whispered, “You have to understand what it was like in the months after the war. No one knew who was in charge of anything. The carpetbaggers came to steal everything. They didn't want the law around. It was easier for them to ignore it. I don't know how they could. I don't understand …”

Adam swore silently. From the horror in her voice, he guessed she had been the one to find her mother's corpse. That explained the incapacitating terror in her jade eyes. Quietly, he asked, “Was that the end of it?”

“It was just the beginning.”

“Who else?”

“Everyone who was left.”

In disbelief, he choked, “Everyone in your family?”

Tears flooded her cheeks. Years of trying to hide her mourning made the agony even more intense. “All of them. My brother, my parents, my grandmother, one uncle. Only my sister and I survive.”

“Do you know why?”

“No, but does it matter? My parents didn't deserve to be killed! None of my family did!” She clenched her unhurt hand by her side. “I couldn't stay and be murdered, too! Without telling anyone, I slipped out in the middle of the night. I walked north until I could get to a train. I rode it until I reached the end of that line. Then I got on another and another until I reached Lansing. Finally I came here.”

“So you never knew if the murderer had been caught?”

Gypsy shook her head. The pain in her arm was climbing through her body to dull every nerve. “To try to find that out might reveal where I was. But it's all been for naught, because he's found me. I think I'm beginning to understand what his scheme is.”

“He wanted you to see the others die horribly before you.”

“He's succeeded.”

He stood. “Staying here would be insane.”

“Wherever I go, he'll find me.”

“But—”

“Nothing!” She edged off the mattress and went to where he was standing before the stove. She smiled sadly. “Adam, I didn't want to involve you in this mess.”

“That's why you kept pushing me away?” He smiled as his arm encircled her waist. “Gypsy, we're in this together now.”

She whispered, “I'm sorry.”

“Don't be. While I'm here, I might as well help you at the same time I'm helping Glenmark.”

“And what are you doing for him?”

He kissed her lightly and grinned. “I think we could use a cup of swamp water. How about it?”

“Adam!”

As he held out his hand to her, he said, “We can talk over that cup.”

Her hand rose to her bruised cheek when she saw the flunkeys gathered in the kitchen. Glancing at Adam, she realized he was not surprised. Renewed tears stung in her eyes. He must have heard the men and knew inviting her out into the kitchen was the best way to dodge her questions.

Gypsy sighed. Adam was her ally, but she was not his. He still refused to reveal what he was doing here. Slipping her fingers into his, she wondered what would happen when his work was finished. There might be no place in his life for her, and that frightened her more than the madman stalking her.

Bert called, “Gypsy, what 'appened to you?” He dropped a partially peeled onion and glared at Adam. “If 'e 'it you, Gypsy, say the word, and me and the boys'll make 'im pay.”

“That's right!” Oscar wiped his hands on his stained apron. “We'll take him apart.”

She tried not to smile at the unexpected chivalry. “This isn't Adam's fault.” She pointed to the bandage on his hair. “He saved me.”

The men swarmed over them, demanding to know what had happened. None of them noticed Adam answered all the questions. When she heard him deflect some with ease, she feared he had been lying to her from the beginning.

Slowly she sank to the bench. As her gaze met his across the room, her breath caught. The desire burning in his eyes could not be faked. Could it?

“'Ere, Gypsy.”

“Thank you, Bert,” she whispered without looking up. His accent was instantly recognizable, along with the reek of the onions he had been cutting. More slowly than usual, she noted, as he opened and closed his fingers that must be cramped from the work. She could not scold him when all the flunkeys were more interested in talking than in finishing their chores. She took the cup of cocoa.

“'Ow are you doing?”

“Honestly?”

Sitting across from her, Bert frowned when she winced as she opened her mouth to sip the cocoa. “You don't know 'oo did this?”

“No.” She sighed, meeting the compassion in his dark eyes. “But I fear it's the same person who attacked Lolly Yerkes and Rose Quinlan.”

“Murdered 'em, you mean.” When a shiver sliced across her shoulders, he added, “'Scuse me, Gypsy. I shouldn't 'ave said that.”

“Why not? It's the truth. I'm lucky Adam happened along to save me.”

“'Appened along? 'Ow is it that 'e was there?”

She glanced toward Adam, who was speaking with the other flunkeys. That was a question she should have asked. She had been so grateful for his arrival that she had not been curious about what brought him there exactly when she needed him.

Folding her hands on the table, she said, “I don't know, and, to be honest, I didn't care. Just having him there to save me was enough.”

But it's not enough now,
she added silently.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

“You've got to fire her.” Adam leaned his fists on Farley's desk.

Daniel Glenmark sat behind the cluttered desk. Smiling, he folded his hands, which emerged from the perfectly pressed sleeves of his gray suit. They were as rough and broad as the hands of any man in the woods. Glenmark had made his money on his own labor as well as what he hired to cut the trees on the lands he leased and bought, but he had never lost the authority he had gained while fighting in the last war.

“Fire Gypsy?” He shook his head. “That's the most ludicrous thing I've ever heard.”

“Not as ludicrous as having her dead.”

Glenmark stood, frowning. “What's wrong? If I were talking to any other man, I'd say he was panicking, but you don't panic. At least, you didn't used to.”

“I'm not panicking, just looking at the facts.”

“I've seen the facts.” He glanced at the bandage on Adam's head. “I don't like this, not after what happened to Farley's harlot.”

“So you will fire her?”

“No.”

Adam pounded one hand on the desk and swore. “How can you be so shortsighted, sir?” His eyes narrowed as Glenmark toyed with a piece of paper on Farley's desk. “You sent me up here to do a job and—”

“Do it.”

“And let Gypsy be the next to get murdered?”

“Don't worry about her.” Glenmark tugged on his vest. “I'll deal with her.”

“What do you mean?”

Glenmark did not meet his eyes. “I mean I will deal with her.”

“And fire her?”

“No.” He laughed shortly. “I can't fire the best kingbee cook in the north woods. The jacks would follow her.”

Adam scowled. “I guess I don't understand.”

“You don't.” Glenmark sat back behind the desk. “I'll deal with her, and I suspect the outcome will be what you want.” Clasping his hands on the desk, he leaned forward. “She's not like other women. This has to be handled the right way, or this whole camp will self-destruct.” He arched a silver brow. “And that may be exactly what our faceless friend wants.”

“Or you may be playing right into his hands, Colonel. Leaving Gypsy here could mean her death.”

“Don't you think I've thought of that? I can't—”

The door swung open, and Adam stepped behind it. He put his hand beneath his coat, his fingers curling around the butt of his pistol. If he had carried it before, he might have put an end to this on the path to Farley's house.

A light voice came around the door. “Farley, what did you want to talk to me about? I—Daniel, I didn't—” Gypsy's face lost all color as Glenmark frowned. “Mr. Glenmark, this is a pleasant surprise. I had no idea you were coming up here.”

When Glenmark motioned for her to sit in front of the desk, Adam saw Gypsy sneak a glance behind her. Her eyes widened as they met his. Leaning against the wall, he crossed his arms over his chest.

“When I received word of the trouble up here,” Glenmark said, “I thought I'd see for myself.”

Adam scowled. Glenmark's answer gave no hint of anything unusual. His words were the trite ones he would have shared with any loyal employee.

“I'd planned on speaking with you in the kitchen later, Gypsy,” Glenmark continued. “If this would be more convenient, I'm sure Adam will excuse us.”

“That's not necessary.” Gypsy jumped to her feet and backed toward the door. “I'm here only because I got a message Farley wanted to see me.”

“He's up at his house. If you wish—”

“No!” She did not want to go along that empty road even in the middle of the day. “I'll talk to Farley later.”

Adam said in a voice as bereft of emotion as his face, “Mr. Glenmark, I can come back.”

“That's not necessary,” Gypsy repeated. “I'm busy baking cakes. Later will be much more convenient for me.” Trying to maintain her serenity, she added, “Adam, I expect you back to oversee the cooking of the biscuits—if that's possible.”

He looked at her, then away swiftly. She almost laughed. Perhaps he regretted admitting that he was working directly for the owner of the lumber company, but it was too late. She intended to get answers. Somehow.

She called a greeting to Chauncey as the inkslinger waved from the wanigan, but did not stop to chat. She was unsure if she could keep from blurting the truth. In the cookhouse, she could control her rebellious emotions.

The familiar task of kneading bread dough while the cakes baked with the delicious aroma of chocolate soothed her uneasiness. Silken flour swirled over her fingers as she rolled the dough. She was careful not to push too hard, for her elbow still ached.

A different sort of pain pounded through her. She could not keep from recalling the strength of Adam's hands as he had kneaded the bread with her. He had become enmeshed in every part of her life, making it impossible to flee from the truth. She loved him.