Dancing With the Devil (22 page)

Everything she’d believed about her parents was a lie. Which meant everything she’d been raised to believe was also a lie.

“Tell me,” she whispered, pushing up from Deacon’s shoulder.

Colin exhaled a loud breath. “I don’t think—”

“Just tell me.”

Deacon laid both his hands on her shoulders and squeezed gently. If only she could climb inside him and hide from everything Colin was saying—or trying
not
to say, as the case may be. But she needed to know.

Colin lifted the bottle, but again didn’t drink. Instead, he rolled it between his hands, watching the amber liquid slosh around inside.

At long last, he looked up at Rhea with eyes that had seen too much, his face looking more like the boy she grew up with than the man he’d turned into.

“Think about it, Rhea,” he muttered. “What did you think that room above the store was used for? Storage rooms don’t normally have beds and washbowls set up in them.”

“You son of a bitch.” Anger surged through Deacon with such force that it took a long time to gain control over it. “And you let her stay up there?”

“I couldn’t tell her,” Colin mumbled, shaking his head. “Look at her. I just couldn’t.”

He sounded weary, but Deacon didn’t care. All that mattered was Rhea. Her body continued to quake uncontrollably, and he had no idea how to help her. He took her back in his arms, but the trembling didn’t stop. It didn’t even slow down.

He lifted his chin off Rhea’s head and fixed his glare on Colin. He could feel the burden in Colin’s soul, could almost see the darkness clouding it.

No.

He couldn’t let that power come out yet. If he used it once, it would be too easy to use again, and then his father would have control over him again. Deacon
wasn’t ready for that yet. He closed his mind to it and stared at Colin until the other man finally dragged his vacant gaze from the floor and looked back at him.

Keeping this secret had taken its toll on Colin. Rhea might not see it and she might not understand it, but her brother had done right by not telling her. It had obviously crippled him, and by keeping the secret, he’d saved Rhea from a similar fate.

With his eyes still fixed on Colin, Deacon pressed his lips to the top of Rhea’s head and tightened his hold on her. Her breath shuddered another tremor up her spine, but she didn’t make any other sound.

“Hey,” he whispered. “Do you think you can walk?”

She sniffed against his neck and nodded, but didn’t release her grip on his shirt.

“Okay.” He eased her up to stand, but couldn’t bear to watch her tremble that way. Ignoring her cries of protest, he scooped her up in his arms and turned toward the door.

Without so much as a word, Colin shuffled over, opened the door and clicked it shut behind them.

“Please put me down,” she whispered. “People will stare.”

“What else is new?”

A dozen paces away, the man from the newspaper stepped out onto the sidewalk, but Deacon strode right past him, and then past two women who pointed and whispered but made no attempt to get out of the way. He didn’t even pause as he passed the store, and hoped Rhea’s eyes were closed so she didn’t have to look at it. When they reached the hotel, he used the tips of his fingers to pull open the door.

“Now will you put me down?”

“No.”

There was no one behind the desk, so he shifted Rhea into his left arm and snagged a room key off the board on the wall.

He headed for the stairs, but only made it to the second step before a woman cleared her throat nervously behind him.

“Excuse me, sir…”

Deacon didn’t slow down. “I took the key to room four,” he called over his shoulder. “I’ll be down shortly to settle up.”

“But—”

A few steps later, he was shifting Rhea in his arms again so he could unlock the door. Inside, he nudged it closed with his foot and walked straight to the bed. It was at least twice as big as the one they’d spent the last week in, with clean blankets and two thick pillows.

He tucked her under the quilt, then sat on the edge, fingering her hair back from her face.

She was too pale. And far too quiet.

“How are you doing?” he asked.

Rhea rolled over on her side and curled up into a tight ball. “I-I think I need to be alone for a while.”

Her voice shook almost as hard as the rest of her body.

“Can I get you some water?” He took a quick sweep of the room, cursing the lack of a water pitcher. “Something to eat, maybe?”

“No, thank you.”

“I’m not leaving you like this.”

“Please, Deacon,” she mumbled over a sob. “I-I can’t think with you sitting there.”

He reached out to touch her, but she shook her head against the pillow.

“Rhea—”

“I’ll be fine,” she sniffed. “Please.”

She damn well wouldn’t be fine. But how could he refuse her when she was so upset?

“I’m going downstairs for a minute,” he said, “but then I’ll be back. If you need anything, I’ll be right outside that door.”

She shook her head again, but still didn’t look at him.

At the door, he stopped. “We’ll get through this, Rhea,” he said. “Might not seem like it now, but we will.”

No answer. The only sounds were those of her sniffing and trying to cover up the quiet sobs that continued to rack her body.

He stepped out into the hall and locked the door, but it was a long time before he could finally bring himself to walk away from the room. On feet of lead, he made his way to the lobby, where he was met by a woman in a dark green dress and circular spectacles.

“I beg your pardon, sir,” she said, her voice as ghastly thin as herself. “But guests are not permitted to help themselves to whichever room they like without checking in first.”

“Forgive me,” he said, doing his best to look contrite. “But my wife is feeling poorly and needed to rest.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she sniffed. “Would you like me to send for the doctor?”

“Thank you, but I don’t think that’s necessary. She just needs to rest.”

“Very well. Perhaps now you can take a moment to fill in the register.”

“Of course.” He lifted the quill from the desk and scrawled his and Rhea’s names on the line she indicated. As he reached into his pocket for payment, the woman spun the book back to her, licked her lips and sputtered.

“
You’re
Deacon? Miss Rhea’s husband?”

“Yes.”

“And she’s ill?” The woman’s entire demeanor changed. “I’ll have someone fetch Doc Jamieson straightaway.”

“No, thank you,” he said. “She’ll be fine.”

“But—”

“We appreciate your concern,” he said, forcing a congenial smile. “But she has asked only for some time to rest and regain her strength.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Now, if you’d be so good as to tell me what we owe you for the room…” He hesitated, the wad of bills clutched in his hand. How long would they be staying there? Everything was such a mess. Besides this, they still had to deal with the impending visit of Judge Hicks. “Perhaps I should pay for the first week now. If we need it longer, we’ll make arrangements then.”

“You’re welcome to stay here as long as you need.” The woman looked more and more motherly by the moment. “But don’t concern yourself with payment.”

Deacon frowned. “We don’t need charity, Miss…”

“Fillion. Emily Fillion.” She extended her hand, which Deacon shook, still frowning. “And I didn’t mean to offend you, Mr…er…Deacon. I simply meant that we will settle the bill when you’re ready to leave.”

“That’s very kind of you.” The suspicion Deacon expected to feel never materialized.

A smile twisted the woman’s mouth up in a small curve. “Your wife has helped most every family in this town at one time or another,” she said. “And mine is no different. I’m happy to be able to help her this time.”

“I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.” He made to leave, then stopped. “Would you please have some food sent up to our room?”

“Yes, sir, right away.”

“Thank you.” He started back toward the stairs, even though she kept right on talking.

“Please tell Miss Rhea I hope she’s feeling better soon. And if you change your mind, I can have the doctor here in matter of minutes.”

Deacon nodded silently and continued on to their room, but didn’t go in. Instead, he pressed his ear to the door, wishing he could go in and take this pain from her. Each one of her sobs was another slash to his heart; and each slash to his heart ripped another rash of prickles across his scars.

But it wasn’t the pain of his father’s lashings that weakened him, or even the constant reminders that prickled his old scars. It was this new pain, the one that felt like an ever-expanding crater inside him.

There was no way to close this wound, no way to cover it with fancy shirts and silk jackets. It was a pain he’d feel every day for the rest of his life.

Rhea had weakened him beyond repair.

He sat on the floor next to the door, his arms resting on his bent knees. How long before he could go in there? How long before she’d let him hold her again?

And how long before he’d have to walk away from her for the last time?

So many questions battered around in Rhea’s head, she didn’t know what to think first. She’d wanted Deacon to stay with her, but she knew it wouldn’t help. This was something she needed to sort out herself.

Colin had known for almost twenty years what their parents had done; twenty years of keeping that horrible secret to himself, of trying to protect her from the ugly truth so she could continue to live her life in ignorant bliss.

Who did he think he was, keeping this from her?
Instead of giving her the chance to deal with it, he’d taken that from her and used the excuse of wanting to protect her.

It certainly explained why Colin could barely speak a civil word to Ernest, why he avoided the store as much as possible and why he flat-out refused to set foot inside the upstairs room.

That room…no. She wouldn’t think about it yet. First thing she needed to do was calm down. Inhaling long, slow breaths, she kept her eyes closed and tried to ease the chaos in her head.

As strange as it seemed, the fact that Ernest was her half brother didn’t disturb her as much as she expected it to. He was a sweet young man who’d done his best work for her at the store.

No, it wasn’t that tying her stomach in knots until she curled up in pain. It was the realization that everything she believed in had been a lie. It was bad enough when she’d learned about Deacon and Salma—but her own parents?

If the two people she trusted most in her life couldn’t honor their vows, how could she expect anyone else to?

Maybe it was a foolish thing to believe in the first place. Maybe men and women simply weren’t capable of finding a lifetime of happiness with one person.

Deacon had been very kind to her in the past few days, had even been affectionate and considerate, but she’d lived her whole life watching her father treat her mother the same way.

It didn’t mean anything.

She hadn’t moved since Deacon left. Night crept in, filling the room with its hollow loneliness, but still she didn’t move. Long after Deacon’s footsteps stopped outside the door, long after she heard him slump to the floor in the hall, she stayed just as she was.

It was going to take a long time to push the pain down far enough that it didn’t choke her anymore.

Muted voices sounded in the hall, followed by the sound of someone walking away, but it wasn’t Deacon. His footsteps were unmistakable, and besides, he’d told her he’d be outside the door. No doubt that was exactly where he’d stay.

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to ignore the little voice in her head that wouldn’t be quiet. It wasn’t right for her to leave him out there in the hall. He’d supported her at the jail when she needed him, and he’d carried her all the way here, without so much as slowing down to consider taking her back to their room above the store.

He didn’t deserve to be treated this way.

She shuffled off the bed and opened the door to find him standing on the other side, jacket bunched under his arm, his expression one of apprehension and concern.

“Are you all right?”

She shook her head and left the door open as she shuffled back to the bed. Deacon lifted a tray of food from the floor and stepped inside the room, quietly closing the door behind him.

He dropped his jacket on the end of the bed, set the tray on the wide window ledge and turned back to her, his fingers fisting and flexing at his sides.

“What can I do?” he asked.

“Nothing.” She unbuttoned her boots, let them fall to the floor and tried to smile. “But you can’t very well sit out there all night.”

“Yes, I can.”

He was halfway to the door before she realized he was serious.

“Deacon, don’t be silly.”

“If you don’t want me in here with you, I’ll go,” he
said, “but I’m not going any farther than right outside that door.”

“I don’t want you to leave,” she whispered.

He nodded toward the basket. “Are you hungry?”

“Not terribly.” She rolled back onto the bed and pulled the blanket up to her neck. “I just want to sleep.”

“Okay.” Several minutes later, he hadn’t moved.

“Are you going to stand there ‘til morning, or are you going to come and lie down?”

He certainly took his sweet time making up his mind, but eventually, his boots landed beside hers and he crawled in next to her.

“Deacon?”

“Yes.” Even through the darkness, she could see his eyes were wide open.

“Why do men think they need to rule women’s lives?” She leaned up on her elbow. “I have more education than most men in this town, I own a business and I’ve survived both my parents’ deaths.”

“As well as your husband’s.” He flashed a toothy smile as he mirrored her position so they lay face-to-face in the dark.

“So why would Colin think he needs to shield me from something like this?”

Deacon’s smile faded as he lifted his shoulder in a shrug. “He was only doing what he thought was best for you.”

“That’s exactly what I mean,” she said. “I don’t need him doing what he thinks is best for me. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”