Kissing in the Dark (24 page)

She moved in a stupor, too scared to let go of Duke’s arm. Maybe it was just the party and the crush of people that upset her. Maybe Stone would never find her. She’d been careful not to leave a trail he could follow, but the man was as sly as a fox.

Duke poured her a glass of strawberry punch and took a glass of wine for himself. “I’d prefer ale,” he said, “but I think the church society would frown if I rolled in a keg for the boys.”

“Wine will do nicely,” she said, then pulled the glass from his fingers and swallowed the contents. With a wobbly smile, she gave him back the empty glass. “I’ll try the punch now.”

“You’re a surprise a minute,” he said, giving her a warm, flirtatious grin.

“Just trying to keep your interest, Sheriff.” And keep herself from panicking. She didn’t belong with these people. How could she court and possibly marry Duke when she didn’t fit into his world?

He set his empty glass on a tray, the move bringing his mouth near her ear. “If you arouse my interest any more, we’ll have to leave the party”

Her breath sailed out and heat rose to her face in a volcanic rush. “I need another glass of wine.”

His low, seductive laugh sent a tingle of awareness down her neck and spine and caused longing to pool within her. Did he know what he did with that suggestive, intimate voice of his?

He pressed his palm to her waist. “Dance with me.”

“My legs are shaking too much.”

“If we don’t move, I’m going to kiss you.”

“Oh, Lord. Bring the wine.”

His wonderful, rich laughter turned all eyes on him—on them—and Faith wanted to duck under the lace skirt of the beverage table. But Duke’s long fingers circled her hand and he led her to the floor.

With a confidence she envied, he slipped his arm around her waist and fit his hand to hers. A half-smile touched his lips as he took a step and drew her into a waltz. Faith’s mother and aunts had taught her to dance, but this was Faith’s first waltz with a man. Duke’s hard shoulder and firm hand held her steady, his muscles flexing with every step he took. Warmth filled his eyes, and something more passionate and intense showed in his gaze as he drew her closer, moving his tall, hard body in perfect rhythm to the music.

The sweet sound of violins and the darker strains of a cello washed over her. With each turn he pulled her closer until his long legs brushed her skirt, and the crowd around them slowly disappeared. Faith was floating in a dream, living in a world she’d scarcely dared to imagine, anchored in the strong arms of a man who stood for truth and justice and everything honest and good in life.

Hints of his cologne and soap teased her nose, and she wanted to move closer, to press her lips to his neck and taste his warm skin. The lanterns cast a soft glow across the taut, freshly shaved skin of his strong jaw. He was all muscles and angles, tall and rock solid, beautiful and majestic like a mountain.

He drew her closer on their next turn and brushed his lips to her ear. “This song is ‘Kissing in the Dark’ by Foster and Cooper. I sent Damon’s bandleader a note earlier and asked him to play it when I brought my lady to the dance floor.”

His lady? She was his lady? “It’s . . . beautiful,” she said, enjoying the song and the seductive mix of intimacy Duke brought to it.

“So are you.” The look in his eyes made her feel beautiful. “I’m glad you like it.”

“The song? Or kissing in the dark?”

His laugh drew so many curious looks that Faith lowered her chin and used his wide chest to shield her burning face. As soon as the song ended, she nudged him off the dance floor. She couldn’t remain in his arms a moment longer. He made her dreams seem possible, and she couldn’t bear to believe, only to have her hopes crushed in the end. Because he could walk away.

But she couldn’t let him walk away, even knowing she didn’t belong in his world, that this decent, honorable man deserved a better woman than she, because Adam and Cora needed him and the life he could give them.

And who was she fooling but herself? She was falling bonnet over boot tops for Duke Grayson.

He stopped by the beverage table and handed her a glass of punch. While she was quenching her thirst, a rugged-looking man with auburn hair and bushy sideburns spoke to Duke. “Taylor’s making a hard push this year, but he’ll have to sway a lot of voters to win the election, Sheriff. A big campaign don’t mean beans compared to your eight years of service.”

“Taylor’s a good man, Sam, and so are most of the other candidates. If the vote falls his way, I’ll support him.” Duke paused to introduce Faith to his deputy, Sam Wade, then turned back to his conversation.

“But you’re the man who keeps the ruffians and scalawags out of our county,” Sam said

While the men talked, Faith slipped a glass of wine off the table, angled her back to Duke, and poured it into her punch.

Another man joined the conversation and started the long line of introductions to Duke’s friends. Duke cast an apologetic look at her, as if he wanted to be with her but couldn’t neglect his supporters. Smiling away his concern, Faith finished her wine punch and discreetly made herself another. Only when his brothers stopped by with Evelyn, Claire, and Amelia did Faith feel a measure of comfort. But they were soon swallowed in a crowd of friends and neighbors who displayed enormous respect for the Graysons and for Duke as their sheriff.

Duke finally excused himself from his conversation and drew her away from the table where they’d been trapped for half an hour. Her glass was halfway to her mouth when he said, “Don’t drink too much of that wine. I have plans for later.”

Wine punch sloshed over the edge of her glass and dribbled down her knuckles, and a roguish grin tipped his mouth. “If we were alone I would lick that off your fingers,” he said quietly.

Her breath whooshed out. “You . . . you don’t miss anything, do you?”

“Maybe because I can’t keep my eyes off you.”

His attention thrilled and excited her, and filled her with guilt. He was better at flirting than she was, but he was baiting his own trap with every intimate innuendo. Because when he finally captured her, he would trap himself into marriage—and perhaps a lifetime of despising his wife.

Would he hate her if he found out the truth about her past? She couldn’t bear his hatred. Would it make a difference to him that she hadn’t been a prostitute?

Lord, she was in over her head. Why hadn’t she sought a man with less rigid values? Why did she have to choose one of the most respected men in town? But she hadn’t chosen him. He’d chosen her, and most of what she’d told him had been the truth. But everything she’d left unsaid was worse than a lie.

Her mind seesawed, arguing one way then the other until she admitted she couldn’t settle anything tonight. The wine was making her head light. All she could do was straighten her spine and play out the evening.

Minutes later, Duke escorted her inside the most opulent house she’d ever seen. Glittering chandeliers hung from the ceilings, velvet draperies dressed large windows and complemented the paisley and floral wallpaper. Plush carpets covered the floors, and a grand staircase climbed from a spacious foyer to a candlelit second-floor landing.

But it was massive golden oak hall tree, that snared her attention. The seven-foot beveled mirror reflected her image, allowing her to see the beauty of her dress, and the man at her side. They were a handsome, well-dressed couple, suited in looks, suited to the surroundings. Hope surged through her, and she met Duke’s questioning gaze in the mirror. Physically she could blend into his world. Maybe that would be enough. If she hid her fears, maybe no one would ever know she didn’t belong here.

The jaunty angle of her hat made her smile, and Faith silently thanked Iris for giving her a touch of attitude with which to face the evening.

They filled their plates at the buffet table, then found seats at a table on the porch. Faith nodded to their tablemate, Dr. Milton, the man who’d advised Duke to abstain from using his arm, then later came to her greenhouse to warn her not to prescribe harmful treatments to the women visiting her. She gave the snob a cordial nod, then turned to her supper.

Another man joined them, and Faith looked up to see Wayne Archer sit opposite Duke. She felt the tension inch higher. He nodded to Faith, then Duke.

“Archer,” Duke said, greeting the man with a brief nod before returning to his meal.

Lord save them. Not only Duke’s doctor to deal with, but Duke’s rival, and her nemesis, as well? Her appetite fled.

Dr. Milton laid his napkin over his partially eaten meal. “How is your Evergreen House coming along, Mrs. Wilkins?”

“Quite well, thank you.” She wasn’t offering the doctor or apothecary any information.

“Mrs. Guthrey has been raving about some sort of hot bath and massage you’re giving her,” Dr. Milton said. “She claims you’re restoring her health.”

“I’m sure you know that Mrs. Guthrey’s discomfort comes from working too hard. The bath eases her aches and gives her a chance to rest. The massage and balm soothe her muscles. The treatment would rejuvenate anybody with her ailment.”

“She claims you give her an herbal tea remedy and a balm to rub onto her skin. It distresses me to have an uneducated woman treating my patients. Are you not afraid of injuring someone with your concoctions?”

Duke set his fork on his plate, but Faith slid her foot over and tapped his. She could handle the doctor’s arrogance. She didn’t want Duke making enemies on her behalf.

“I know my herbs, doctor. It’s true I haven’t the benefit of your formal education, but I’ve read numerous medical texts like the pharmacopoeia, and studied anatomy, botany, herbal medicine, and Eastern healing techniques. The tea I give Mrs. Guthrey contains chamomile and willow bark to relax her and ease her pain. The balm is a topical treatment for the same purpose. Mrs. Guthrey is likely suffering pain in her gluteus maximus and biceps femoris muscles because of a pinched sciatic nerve.”

His eyebrows lifted before he could hide his surprise. “Impressive, Mrs. Wilkins, but what is causing this situation?”

“I suspect she twisted her hips and strained her back by doing work that’s too heavy and strenuous for her.”

“Reading a few books cannot compare to years of study and practice. I learned alongside a knowledgeable, well-respected doctor.”

“Then I’m surprised you advised Sheriff Grayson not to use his arm until his shoulder injury healed. Surely you could see that his deltoid, triceps, and biceps muscles were shrinking and growing stiff. By the time the sheriff asked for my help, he could barely lift his arm as high as his shoulder.”

“Are you suggesting that your treatment has improved his condition?”

“She doesn’t have to suggest, Doc. See for yourself,” Duke said, lifting his fist above his head.

They had made progress in the five weeks she’d been treating him, but his range of motion was still restricted by shrunken, tender muscles, and it would take several more weeks to completely free up his arm. For him to lift his arm like that had to be unbearably painful. His jaw was clenched, but he stared at the surprised doctor and lowered his arm without a single grunt of pain.

“There’s your proof. Her business is a nice addition to the healing arts in this town.”

The doctor was silenced, but Archer scoffed. “Sheriff, I realize Mrs. Wilkins is your companion, but you go too far defending someone who dallies in medicine without proper education.”

Faith feared Duke was going to throttle Archer, but he shocked her by grinning. “Are you threatened, Archer?”

“Only by the trouble we’ve been having with those swindlers and thieves you’ve been letting run loose.”

The doctor pushed away from the table. “Excuse me, gentlemen . . . Mrs. Wilkins, I’m in need of a cheroot and a cup of coffee.”

“I’ll join you,” Archer said, stepping away from the table. He stopped and scowled at Faith. “Your brother bought some glass vials from my store the other day. I would prefer that you come for the items yourself, as I’ve had some things come up missing of late.”

Duke shoved to his feet, but Faith caught his hand. “I’d like another dance if you don’t mind?” She stepped around the table, then faced Archer. “Rest assured no one in my family will visit your business again.”

Duke leaned close to the man, his voice low and controlled. “One rumor, Wayne, even one negative comment about Mrs. Wilkins or her family, and I’ll be knocking on your door. And it won’t be to make a purchase.”

He stepped around Archer and guided Faith down the steps. “I’m sorry,” she said as they crossed the yard. “I should have kept quiet.”

Duke looked at her with clear admiration. “You were amazing with the doctor.”

Relief washed through her, followed by a giddy sense of victory. “So were you,” she said. “How did you manage to raise your arm so high without screaming?”

“I knew it was the only way to keep my fist out of Milton’s arrogant mouth.”

“The doctor
was
rather arrogant.”

“He was an ass.”

She smiled. “So was Archer. No wonder you don’t like the man.”

“I don’t dislike him or Doc Milton. They’ve both done good things for the community. Archer’s hoping that by discrediting me, it will get him the job as sheriff.”

“Why does he even want to be sheriff when he has his apothecary?”

Duke shrugged. “I don’t know. And I don’t care, as long as Taylor, Phelps, or I beats him. Archer would ruin our community”

“I’m glad you didn’t hit him. I would never want to cause you to fight.” And she prayed he would never have to. But Syracuse wasn’t that far away, and Judge Stone would never stop looking for her.

“It was Archer’s mouth that boiled my blood, not your comments. He glanced at the carriage house where the band was tuning up. “Did you want to dance?”

She shook her head. “Truthfully, I’d rather leave, but I suppose it would look bad.”

“Not if we slip away.” He guided her through the crowd of people scattered across the lawn, nodding to several guests but not stopping to speak them. When they reached the beverage table, he picked up two glasses of wine. “I’ll return the glasses tomorrow.”