Forever Safe (Beacons of Hope) (34 page)

She lifted a hand to his cheek, her fingers cool and soothing against his skin.

“I don’t want to live without you.” There he’d said it. And now that the words were out, they felt right.

She smiled, and her smile was filled with all of the sweetness and forgiveness that she offered so freely—and that he didn’t deserve. But maybe, as with God, it was time to finally stop condemning himself and accept the gift.

“Please don’t leave me,” he whispered, his voice turning thick, his need to wrap his arms back around her growing strong again.

“Okay,” she replied, tilting her smiling face up. Her easy acceptance shook him down to his soul. She offered no protests, no conditions. She never had. She’d never seemed concerned about all she might be giving up or the censure she would get from her parents or the outcast she’d become among New York society if she claimed a common man like him.

Tom knew she was naive and that they’d need to have a thorough conversation about their future together at some point. But for now, he was content to know she still wanted him.

He started to pull her back into his embrace when the distant echo of hoofs made his muscles tense.

“What?” she whispered.

The horse was traveling north. When it slowed its pace, Tom guessed Butch was returning after failing to find Victoria in North Truro.

“Wait here.” He slid her to the floor and stood. When she began to rise, he motioned her back. “Please, Victoria. Stay here and let me handle this.”

She sat back down, and fear flitted through her pretty eyes. “Is he coming back for me?”

Tom nodded. “He’ll look in here first.” With the door torn away from the hinges, Butch would suspect that someone had come to help Victoria, especially if he saw the horse by the warehouse. If Tom could catch him by surprise and disarm him first…

He unsheathed his knife and made his way to the back door. He flattened himself against the moldy wall and tried to hide in the shadows.

Tom hardly dared to breathe. He would only get one chance to take out Butch. If he didn’t, he’d risk losing Victoria all over again.

A darkening in the door frame and the huffs of heavy breathing alerted Tom to Butch’s return. Tom’s fingers tightened around the hilt of his knife. He was tempted to lunge now before Butch spotted him. But he fought against the urge and waited.

The tall, thin man entered with his knife outstretched, clearly expecting an attack. Thankfully, his gaze landed on the opposite side of the hallway from where Tom stood. The slight second gave Tom the advantage he needed.

He sprang out and plunged his knife into Butch’s side, into the fleshy part of his back beneath his rib cage. A knife wound there would stun him, hopefully disable him. But wouldn’t be mortal if he sought treatment.

Butch roared with pain but somehow managed to swing around and slash at Tom.

Tom was prepared for a counterattack. He jumped out of reach of the blade. But in the process, he tripped over a broken piece of floorboard.

Tom stumbled backward. His heel snagged on the door frame. He tried to catch his balance but fell to the ground outside the door.

In an instant, Butch jumped on him. Even though the man was wounded and a dark spot of blood was widening at his side, he slammed his knee into Tom’s stomach.

Tom’s breath whooshed from his lungs. Pain seared his ribs.

Before Tom could gather his wits, Butch’s fingers wrapped around his neck. The man’s thumb pressed hard against Tom’s windpipe. The force cut off any ability to breathe.

At the same time, Butch raised his knife and brought it down toward Tom’s heart.

Tom caught Butch’s wrist. He held the blade at bay, but barely.

Butch’s arm was thin and wiry, but his muscles rippled. His narrow face was sweaty and the veins in his long forehead protruded at the exertion. A swollen bruise at his temple and cheek told Tom that Butch had taken a recent blow across the head. From Victoria?

With Butch’s thumb cutting off his air, and the knife only inches from his heart, Tom had the dizzying thought that he was about to fail again.

Butch’s mouth was set into a tight line, and his eyes filled with cold determination. This man was a hired killer. And like Splash, Tom could tell Butch was good at what he did.

At the gasp and distressed, “No!” that came from the doorway, dismay rushed through Tom. Victoria had disobeyed his instructions and come out.

If he’d had his voice, he would have yelled at her. As it was, all he could think about was Butch getting his hands on Victoria again. If he did, this time the man would kill her first, then row her out and dump her into the ocean.

The mere picture of Butch touching her sent a jolt of energy through Tom. He brought his knee up to Butch’s back and rammed it into the knife wound. Butch flinched but didn’t loosen his grip. Tom kneed him again, this time more forcefully.

Butch’s thumb slipped away from Tom’s windpipe long enough for him to drag in a breath. But the knife angled dangerously close to Tom’s shirt, close enough that he could feel the prick of the blade through the linen.

If he couldn’t physically dislodge Butch, he’d have to roll over and throw him off. Before Tom could make his big move, a crack sounded against the back of Butch’s head.

Butch’s eyes widened. The pressure of his thumb ceased. The hand holding the knife wavered.

Tom didn’t waste any time trying to figure out what had happened. Instead, he slammed Butch’s arm and knocked the weapon into the air so that it landed a dozen feet away.

Butch wavered back and forth like a drunk man, and fell off Tom sideways, hitting the ground with a thump. Then he lay motionless in the sandy grass.

Victoria stood above them, a board in her hand. For a moment she stared at Butch, her face a mask of fury and determination. She toed him with her stocking foot, and when he didn’t respond, she took a step away, her eyes registering worry. “Did I kill him?”

Tom sat up and sucked air into his starved lungs. A glance at the brute told Tom the man was still breathing. “No. You knocked him out.”

“Let’s tie him up before he revives.” Victoria lifted the board as though preparing to strike Butch again if he so much as batted an eyelash.

Tom was already removing one of his suspenders. He rolled Butch to his stomach and made quick work of binding his hands with the sturdy strap. The blood from the knife wound Tom had inflicted had formed a wide spot on the man’s coat. Tom slit a long bandage from the man’s shirt and wrapped it around his torso to staunch the flow. All the while he worked, Victoria watched, pale and silent.

“Will he live?” she asked once Tom had used Butch’s bootlaces to tie his feet together.

“Yes. I’ll make sure of it.” He didn’t want Victoria to live with the guilt of this man’s death on her conscience, even if he deserved to die. Besides, Tom wanted Butch alive to testify against Theresa.

Tom stood and took the board from Victoria’s hands. She relinquished it, and he tossed it against the house. When he reached for her, she came to him willingly, almost eagerly. Her arms wound around his waist, and she rested her face against his chest.

“It’s over,” he whispered.

For a long moment he just held her, letting the sunshine warm them and the steady crash of the waves soothe their racing pulses. When he finally felt her breathing return to normal and her heartbeat grow steady, he brushed his fingers through her tangled hair.

“Did you mean what you said when we were inside?” she asked.

“What did I say?” Although he knew very well what he’d said.

“That you—” she hesitated. “That you don’t want me to leave?”

He tilted back so that he could look into her face, which in spite of the dirt and tear streaks was still beautiful. Her eyes held expectancy but also reservation, as if she didn’t quite know what to make of all he’d spoken in such earnestness.

“I’m not a perfect man,” he started. “I’m flawed in many ways.”

“I’m far from perfect too.”

He shook his head. “But that hasn’t stopped me from falling in love with you.”

“So I wasn’t dreaming that you’d said the words?” She released an almost blissful sigh and smiled.

“The Lord knows how hard I’ve tried not to love you.”

“And I know it too.” Her words were light and her eyes warm. “But apparently I’m irresistible?”

“Yes.”

“So I lured you in and snared you after all?” She cocked her head and gave him a playful look under her long lashes.

“I’m all yours.” And he meant it. He wanted to spend the rest of his earthly days beside her, with her, loving, laughing, talking, teasing, and growing in faith.

“If you’re all mine, does that mean I may do with you as I please?” Her voice dropped into a whisper that began to thaw his blood, which was still cold from the fear and anxiety of all they’d just experienced.

He thought back to one of the first times he’d accompanied her and how she’d attempted to wield her charms over him to get her way. She’d never be able wrap him around her finger, and he would never cater to her every whim like other men always had. But she certainly had more power over him than he’d ever believed any one could gain.

“What do you want to do with me?” He lowered his voice to the same flirtatious tone, unable to resist the play of a grin at his lips.

A rosy pink colored her cheeks, and he knew that even though she teased him, she was still innocent. He was much more informed about the ways between men and women than she was. “Do you know what I’d like to do with you?” he asked softly.

The pink rose into an even prettier flush. When she nibbled at her bottom lip, he realized that she thought he was going to kiss her or was at least contemplating it. Which, strangely, he wasn’t, not at that moment. He had something more important on his mind.

He lowered himself to one knee before her, retrieved the ring from his pocket, and took her hand. “Victoria,” he started, “I’m a simple man. And I can’t give you much.”

“I don’t care—”

“But I can give you my promise to love you.” He held up the simple wedding band that she’d worn the past month. He hadn’t told her that the band had been the one Ike had been saving for his girl back home, Tabitha Lovell. After the war, when Tom had gone to give her the ring and a few of Ike’s other personal items, he’d learned that she’d died around the same time as Ike, from consumption. Tom had taken some comfort in knowing that Ike wasn’t alone in heaven, that at least he was happy with the woman he’d loved.

Victoria stared at the ring he held poised above her finger.

“No matter what the future brings, I’ll never be able to stop loving you.”

Something briefly flickered in her eyes. He might have missed it if he hadn’t looked up into her face at that moment. It was fear. He’d recognize it anywhere. Yet just as quickly as the emotion appeared it vanished, replaced by excitement and thrill and wonder, which settled into every lovely curve and crevice of her face.

“Oh, Tom,” she whispered. “I’ll never be able to stop loving you either.” The sincerity in her eyes told him she meant it.

“Then marry me.” He slipped the band over her slender finger.

She splayed her fingers, making it easier for him to slide the ring all the way down to where it belonged. When it was in place, her eyes glistened. “Yes. With all my heart.” She met his gaze with a radiance that made his chest swell to bursting.

He brought her hand to his lips and tenderly kissed her ring finger and then turned over her hand and pressed a kiss into her palm. Her breath hitched in that sensual way she had about her that told him she enjoyed his touch, that it never failed to move her.

One glance into her eyes, and he could see that not only did she enjoy his touch but that she wanted more. The temperature of his blood rose a degree. He readily obliged her with a feathery kiss on her wrist.

She closed her eyes as if to prevent him from seeing her pleasure, but it was written in the tightening lines in her face. “Tom?”

He kissed the skin directly above her wrist, this time lingering and caressing her wildly beating pulse. “Hmm?”

“How am I to marry you?” she asked breathlessly. “When we’re already married?”

“We’ll have a real wedding.”

“At Race Point?”

“Wherever you want.” He loved the texture of her silky skin against his lips.

“I want your parents to be there. And we’ll invite mine to come too.”

He nodded.

“But, Tom,” she started and then ducked her head, “we’re already legally married. What will be the point of the wedding?”

Heat spread into his gut at the remembrance of the few passionate kisses they’d shared, of how difficult it had grown to let go of her, of how close he’d been to picking her up and taking her to bed. Could he really wait for a wedding? And really, what was the point? She was right. They were married. He could take her home tonight and they could finally be together.

He shook his head, fighting away the temptation. “I want to do this right. With your father’s permission. With my parents’ full understanding. And with vows that we both mean this time.”

Of course, it had been easy to agree to the judge’s questions and to sign a document that night on the steamboat when they’d been leaving Newport. But that exchange had been a necessity, a business arrangement, not a real marriage ceremony.

He pushed himself up until he was standing before her. “I don’t want our marriage to be by default. I want us to choose it and make it public.”

A wrinkle formed between her eyebrows. “How will your parents feel when they learn the truth?”

“I suspect my mom knows more than she’s let on.” He couldn’t say for sure or even how. “My dad might be harder to console. But I’ll take care of him.”

“I love them both. And I don’t want them to be upset at us.”

“They won’t. They love you.” He had no doubt he and Victoria would have obstacles to overcome, but it likely wouldn’t be from his parents. It would be from hers. However, he didn’t want to bring that up now. He tugged her close again and touched his lips against the tiny crease in her forehead, hoping to ease her worries.