Rapture's Tempest (15 page)

“All she ever said to me was that her stepfather threw her out and that she’d lived in the country.”

“Do you think she would have gone back home?”

“I don’t know how she could have…if he’d thrown her out once, wouldn’t he do it again?”

“It’s hard to say.” Marshall paused thoughtfully. “There are a few people I can talk to, and I’ll put the word out to watch for her. Although, for the time being, I’ll tell them that Murphy is a boy.”

“Good idea. She didn’t have any other clothes, so I’m sure she’s still dressed that way.” Jim thought of all the times when they’d worked so closely together and he’d never known she
was a woman. “I feel so stupid…I lived with her for almost two weeks and never had a clue….”

“She must be a good little actress. You know, I met her, too, and she had me fooled.”

Jim nodded. “She had everybody fooled. I just hope nothing happens to her….”

“If she’s still in town, we’ll find her.” Marshall sounded so positive that Jim’s spirits lifted. “But what about Annabelle?”

That question was still haunting him as he strode back toward the riverfront later that night. What was he going to do about Annabelle?

With her red velvet robe wrapped tightly about her slim body to ward off the chill, Annabelle Morgan stood at her front bedroom window in her family’s elegant home watching the deserted, snow-crusted street beyond. Where was he?

The loud chiming of the mantel clock shattered the predawn silence as it marked the passing of yet another hour. Startled by the realization that it was almost four in the morning, Annabelle turned in frustration from her vigil. The endless hours of waiting had worn on her nerves, and she felt tense and on edge.

Moving to the hearth, she threw a small log on the dying fire and stirred new flames to life. Savoring its flaring warmth, she sat in the closest chair, mulling over the happenings of the last few days.

Annabelle was a woman of action, and the part of the helpless female that she was being forced into just didn’t sit well with her. While it was true she could play it to perfection, her petite blond beauty helping her to carry it off, she chafed under the restrictions it placed on her. Annabelle knew that as Jim Westlake’s fiancée she must never appear directly to challenge men’s authority and that she must always be submissive. And, while the role itself was boring, she was finding Jim to be more and more intriguing.

Now, waiting for Wade to return from a meeting with the sympathizers, she found it a bit disturbing that her thoughts were of Jim. Tall, handsome, confident, successful—had she been interested in picking a real husband, she couldn’t have done a better job. Jim Westlake was devastatingly attractive, and Annabelle could not deny that she found him desirable. She shivered as she remembered the way Jim had held her in his arms whenever they had danced….

The sound of a horse in the street brought her to her feet, and she rushed to the window, pleased to find that Wade had finally arrived. With no thought to her attire, she hurried downstairs to admit him.

“I was beginning to think you weren’t going to come,” she complained. “What went on at the meeting?”

“Nothing important, that’s for sure. All they could talk about was the gold, and they wanted to know why we didn’t have the information yet.”

“Really?” she sneered. “I suppose they think they could do a better job?”

She started to turn away from him, but he reached out and pulled her to him. “Frankly, darling, I don’t care about those old fools. All I care about is how I felt watching you dance with Westlake last night.”

“Oh?” Annabelle asked coyly. “And how was that?”

“I was burning for you, and you damn well know it!” he said almost viciously as his mouth sought hers in a searing brand.

“Let’s go upstairs,” she encouraged, breaking away from him.

“Your father?”

“He left for St. Charles this afternoon and he won’t be back until late tomorrow.”

There were no further words between them as they mounted the staircase together and disappeared into her bedroom, closing the door behind them.

Later, when the heat of their first coupling had cooled and they lay spent together on her rumpled bed, they spoke of other things.

“Did you get to meet Dorrie Westlake at my party?”

“Yes, I did, and she seemed very receptive. I’ve been invited to the Taylors’ ball next weekend, and she’s supposed to be there, too.”

“It’s a shame that Jim will be gone. I’d like to watch you in action,” she said throatily, running a hand down his chest.

“Why don’t you attend with your father?” Wade asked, responding to her touch immediately, and he forgot all thought of Dorrie Westlake.

“Maybe I will,” she said huskily as she kissed him again.

The sun’s reflected glare off the crystal and snow-encrusted city was blinding as the morning dawned bright and clear. Knee-deep drifts of the frosty white powder, a legacy of last night’s bitter wind, made travel even more difficult on all the streets and sidewalks. Groaning and stiff from the weather’s abuse, St. Louis came awake slowly, shivering in protest as it struggled to break free of winter’s hoary hold.

Jim sat in his cabin at his desk, staring blankly at the papers spread before him. Sleep had eluded him all night, and now he found himself tired yet unable to rest. Every time he’d stretched out on his bunk, memories of Murphy had assailed him.

Glancing around the deserted room, he was amazed at how lonely it seemed without her companionable presence. Even before their explosive night of love, Jim had come to enjoy her quick wit and easy manner; and now…he pushed away from the desk and stalked across the room to the connecting door. Throwing it wide, he stormed into her small chamber, hoping to find some clue that would lead him to her…something
she might have forgotten in her haste to be gone. But the room was empty, totally devoid of any trace of Murphy. It was almost as if she’d never been there at all. Saddened and frustrated, Jim wandered back out into his own cabin and was surprised to come face-to-face with Ollie.

“There you are, Jimmy—I knocked but you didn’t answer.”

“Sorry.” Jim’s answer was preoccupied.

“Did you find anything?” When Jim looked at him questioningly, Ollie indicated the room. “Did she leave anything behind? Something we can use to find her?”

“No. Nothing.”

“Damn.” Ollie was as upset as Jim. “I hope she turns up. I miss her already.”

“I do, too.”

They looked at each other in resignation as they realized they had done all they could. All that was left to do was wait.

Following Sue into the parlor, Martin Montgomery asked her impatiently, “What is so important that you had to interrupt my breakfast with my wife?”

“A young boy just delivered this note and said that I should give it to you personally, in private, right away.” She handed him an envelope.

“Who did you say delivered this?”

“I didn’t recognize him, sir. He was just a boy. He said to make sure that you got the letter when you were alone.”

Martin looked down at the envelope and immediately recognized the handwriting. His heart lurched, but he maintained his composure in front of Sue. “You may go.”

“Yes, sir.”

Once she had left the room, Martin ripped open the envelope with shaking hands. It was from Delight; he knew it.

Martin broke out in a cold sweat. She was coming back. The moment he had been waiting for was here, yet he wasn’t sure whether to be excited or worried. Not wanting to raise Clara’s suspicions, he hurried back to her side.

“Was it important, darling?” she asked, her eyes shining with her love for her husband.

“Just business, but I will have to go out for a while this morning. Will you be all right alone?” he asked, coming to kiss her cheek.

“Of course. Sue will be here with me.”

“Good. I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

With that he was gone, and Clara sat back, pondering her luck at having so young and handsome a man in love with her. Martin had been so very attentive during her recent illness, and, now, he had taken charge of most of her business affairs, too. Totally satisfied with her life, she went into the parlor to await his return.

Delight sat in the hired carriage outside the Barnum Hotel watching for Martin’s arrival. Here, away from the intimacy of the house, she could tell him exactly what she was going to do without mincing any words, for she wanted to set things straight between them before returning.

When Delight saw Martin enter the hotel, she signaled her driver to go in after him. A moment later, they came back out and Martin boldly approached her vehicle. As he drew near, a shudder of revulsion shook her. She hadn’t considered what her physical reaction to him was going to be, but, regardless, she was going to see this through. She was going home.

“Delight.” he breathed her name softly. Martin couldn’t believe his luck. She had come back! Maybe things weren’t as bad as he’d originally thought.

“Get in, Martin,” she said, keeping her voice cold and unemotional.

Martin opened the door and climbed in. Sitting opposite her, he let his gaze run over her assessingly. She looked lovely as she sat wrapped warmly in a hooded, fur-lined cape, and his desire for her returned full-force. “You look well,” he managed.

“No thanks to you.” Her remarks left no doubt as to her feelings about him. The memory of his touch still made her flesh crawl and confirmed her determination never to have to suffer his attentions again.

“I can make it all up to you,” he told her smoothly.

“I’m sure you’d like to try, but you’re not going to get the chance.”

“Really?” Settling back, Martin crossed his arms across his chest and tried to figure out what she was up to.

“We need to talk, Martin, and we’re going to do it right here in full public view.”

“Fine. Was there something in particular you wanted to talk about?” He spoke arrogantly, covering the nervousness he was feeling.

Delight stared at him. It was going to be difficult keeping herself under such strict control, but she knew it had to be done, for if Martin sensed any weakness in her he would use it to his advantage.

“I think we have a few things to settle between us.”

“Such as?” His tone was mocking.

Delight looked up at him with determination. “Such as—if you ever come near me again, I will tell my mother in no uncertain terms exactly what happened between us.”

Martin gazed at her steadily, almost unnerving her. “And do you really think she’ll believe you?”

She faced him squarely. “Of course, for I have no reason to lie…whereas you have everything to lose and nothing to gain by such a story.” When he said nothing, Delight continued. “I know that my mother loves you, Martin, and I don’t want her to suffer any more than she already has.”

“Yes,” he replied with a certain smugness. “She does love me. Even more so now that I’ve nursed her back to health. She knows what a devoted husband I am.”

Delight gave him a scathing look. “I hardly think devoted is the word, but I’m not going to discuss semantics with you. My mother’s happiness is very important to me, and that’s the only reason why I am not going to tell her the truth.”

“How kind of you,” he sneered. “Since you’re the one who so blatantly encouraged me.”

Delight had thought that he might try to switch the blame, and she was prepared for this tactic.

“Truly? I think it’s highly improbable that I drugged myself. But at any rate, I’m not going to discuss that night with you—
ever
. As far as I’m concerned, it never happened. Do you understand?”

“Perfectly, Delight,” he answered calmly, picking nonchalantly at a piece of lint on his jacket sleeve. “Is there anything else?”

“Yes. Rose is coming home with me. She will be my personal maid and companion. You’re not to go near her, either.”

“Believe me, my dear, Rose is the last woman I would want to warm me on a cold night.” Then, looking at her slyly, his eyes filled with sexual suggestion, “You know I do enjoy your mother’s complete affections now that she’s recovered.”

Delight didn’t respond, wondering how her mother could suffer the man’s possession.

“Shall we head home now? I’m sure Clara will be overjoyed by your unexpected return. Do you know the story I concocted to cover your unexplained absence?”

“Rose told me.”

“Ah, Rose,” he murmured, regretting that he hadn’t been a little more forcefully persuasive in his dealings with her. “Are you prepared to embroider my tale to make it more palatable to your mother?”

“I’ll do what ever is necessary to ensure my mother’s happiness.
That includes tolerating you.” She cut him to the quick, and he glanced at her sharply.

“You’ve sharpened your wit.”

“Necessity breeds many things, Martin.”

Delight gave the driver instructions. As the carriage jolted forward, Martin reviewed silently all that had been said. He was pleased by Delight’s return and quite relieved by her decisions. At least, he wouldn’t be losing his comfortable lifestyle.

Grateful for small favors, he immediately turned his attention to other things. Living under the same roof with Delight again was going to be pure torture for him, for he was now torn between his need for revenge and his still powerful desire for her. Martin wasn’t sure what he was going to do, but he knew he would make her pay for his frustration and embarrassment, one way or another. Glancing across at her, he smiled to himself. Yes, he was really going to enjoy evening the score with Miss Delight de Vries.

Clara was thrilled by her daughter’s return, and they spent the entire day in warm reunion. Delight glossed over the time she’d supposedly spent with her aunt and uncle and immediately set about caring for her mother, who, though she had improved, was still not in perfect health. Clara relished Delight’s tender attentions, for she had always cherished her only child and had missed her greatly.