Tarnished Angel (67 page)

    "Charles…" Camille shook her head, her warm brown eyes searching his. "Charles, do you realize what you are saying,
mon
cher
?
You are asking me to leave this place and come with you. You are asking that the world see you, Charles Carter, the educated son of a wealthy man, a man with a bright future ahead of him, taking to live in his home a French courtesan, a common woman."

    "No, you're wrong, Camille." Charles's broad hand stroked   back a few strands of fiery silk curling against Camille's smooth cheek. ''I'm not asking that the world see me take you into my home. I'm asking that the world see me marry Camille, the woman I love."

    "Charles, this is insane! I cannot!"

    She thrust her palms against Charles's chest in an effort to break free of his tightening embrace. Her brows knit in a frown as a spasm of pain flicked across Charles's face and he expelled his breath in a short gasp, then staggered weakly against the desk. "Charles, what is wrong?"

    Charles's hand moved to his shoulder. Her own hands followed suit, only to come in contact with wetness. She withdrew her hands, startled to find them stained with blood.

    "Charles, you are wounded! What has happened?"

    "Ross escaped from the jail a few hours ago. During the confusion a bullet creased my shoulder. Devina did her best to treat the wound."

    Camille's heavily fringed eyelids dropped down to shield her reaction to the name. "Mademoiselle Dale was with you."

    "Yes, she risked her life tonight for Ross. But, damned fool that Ross is, he didn't realize that she loves him."

    Camille's gaze flew upward. Sparks of glittering gold came alive in the dark depths of her eyes. "Devina Dale loves your brother, Ross Morrison?"

    "Yes, she does." Charles stared into Camille's eyes, fascinated by the dancing golden flecks as he continued softly, "And Ross Morrison's brother, Charles Carter, loves Camille
DuPree
."

    The brilliant golden flecks were suddenly swimming in tears. "This Charles Carter, he is ill, feverish, suffering from loss of blood."

    Charles drew her closer. "Will Camille
DuPree
take pity on him, come home with him, nurse him back to health, stay with him and care for him for the rest of his life?"

    Camille focused her brimming eyes on Charles. Her voice was husky with emotion. "This Charles Carter, he has not asked if Camille
DuPree
loves him."

    A tremor of anxiety moved down Charles's spine. He remembered the way Camille looked up into the Count's eyes, the warmth of the glances they exchanged. Suddenly serious, he shook his head. "It doesn't matter, Camille. I know you care for  me, and that will be enough. Pierre can't offer you what I'm offering you. You said yourself he's been married for many years. He won't give up his wife for you. You'll forget him and come to love me, Camille."

    "No, you are wrong, Charles."

    A stab of pain pierced Charles's heart at Camille's words. The ache grew deeper as he held her sober gaze.

    "I will not
grow
to love you, Charles, because I love you now. I have loved you from the first. I have never loved another man as I love you, Charles."

    A flush of joy moved through Charles. He held Camille close, but his attempt to cover her lips with his was interrupted by a wave of vertigo. He gave a short laugh, clinging to Camille's warm, womanly frame. "I'm afraid this isn't the moment to show you how happy you've made me, Camille."

    Her expression concerned, Camille attempted to lead Charles to a chair. "Come sit,
mon
cher
. I will call"

    "No, call no one, Camille. I don't want anyone to know about the wound. There would be too many questions. I'm all right. I just need rest." Steady once more, Charles smiled. "But I need you to come home with me tonight, now."

    "Charles, I must speak to Pierre."

    Charles felt a familiar jealousy twist in his stomach. He lowered his mouth to Camille's for a brief kiss. "Tell him now."

    Camille turned and walked toward the door. She opened it and smiled at Pierre who appeared immediately.

    "What is your wish,
ma petite?
"

    Charles answered in her stead. "Camille and I will be leaving now. She regrets that she won't be able to go back to France with you."

    Pierre glanced at Camille's face. "Your bags are packed, Camille. Where would you have them sent?"

    "To my quarters," Charles instructed.

    Pierre ignored him. "Camille? What is your response?"

    Sliding her arms around Pierre's neck, Camille pressed her lips against his cheek. "To Charles's quarters, Pierre. This foolish man wishes to marry me."

    The silence that followed was broken finally by the Count's low sigh. "He would have been a far more foolish man if he had let you go."

    A quick turn of his head and a crisp order in his native tongue sent small feet scurrying, and within a moment Pierre was wrapping a great cloak around Camille's shoulders. Then, turning, he extended his hand to Charles. "
F?licitations
,
Dr. Carter. You are a fortunate man, and I do not deny I envy you. But you must leave now, must you not? The wound in your shoulder… you would not wish to have it discovered by someone here so that all of Tombstone would hear of it by morning. Someone might then come to suspect there was some relationship between it and your brother's puzzling escape from jail this evening."

    Startled, Charles relinquished Pierre's firm grip to curl his arm around Camille's shoulders. Surprise flickered momentarily across his face. "You are a very well-informed man, monsieur."

    Pierre nodded. "
Oui
,
but I will miss my dear Camille."

    Charles's arm curled tighter as he urged Camille toward the door. "I'm sure Camille will write to you."

    Le Comte's gray brow rose sardonically. "You are very generous, monsieur."

    Charles gave a short laugh. "I'm in a magnanimous mood."

    Within moments Camille was walking beside him along brightly lit Allen Street. Not speaking a word, he held her tight against his side until they reached his quarters. His expression sober, he looked into her face.

    "Into my home and into my heart, Camille."

    "Yes, Charles. That is all I ever wanted."

    No other words needed to be spoken between them. Camille stepped into the room and into Charles's arms.

    Devina tossed and turned restlessly. Exhaustion had forced her eyes closed, cutting off the thoughts whirling in her mind, but sleep had provided only a temporary escape. In her dreams, fragmented pictures of Ross continued to assail her: Ross angry, his expression cruel, unyielding; Ross concerned, bent over the wound on her ankle, drawing out the poison with his mouth; Ross hovering over her as she fought delirium, his low voice soothing; Ross loving, holding her, caressing her, taking her body with utmost tenderness; Ross startled, holding his arm in pain, staring at the iron in her hand; Ross hostile, his dark eyes anticipating a cruel twenty years stretching out before him; Ross determined, riding off into the darkness never to return. Each fragment was a sharp, piercing shard that tortured her as Devina continued to toss and turn.

    But out of her desolation came a fragment of joy, a small circle of light, gradually growing to consume the pained reminiscences of her dreams. She smiled, experiencing it before it could be seen, hoping to catch it, to seal it within her sight, to watch it expand to envelop her completely. But it was glancing away, touching her lightly and fleetingly, feathering her forehead, her cheek, her fluttering eyelids. She felt its beauty on her ear, her throat. She felt it slide along her jaw, tease her mouth. She parted her lips with anticipation. The fragment of joy grew, becoming a living, breathing force. She wound her arms around it, held it close. She felt its breath against her cheek, heard its low whisper against her lips.

    "Devina, darling…"

    Abruptly, Devina was awake. Just as abruptly she realized the joy assailing her had taken human form. That human form was Ross. She gave a low, involuntary gasp, another part of her mind experiencing an emotion of another kind as the familiar warmth of Ross's body stretched out beside her.

    "Ross, what are you doing here? You should be making your escape. If the posse, trails you, finds you here…"

    "Nobody will be expecting me to be back in town, much less in Harvey Dale's house. I'm safe, Devina, for a while. I'm not worried about the posse, not now."

    Devina attempted to pull herself from the intimate posture Ross had assumed, his hard body flush against hers, his mouth brushing her lips as he spoke. She could not stand this torture.

    "What do you want, Ross? Why are you here?"

    "I asked myself the same question when I reined up my horse and turned back toward town, Devina. What do I want?" He gave a short laugh that reflected little mirth. "I suppose I was just as surprised as you are right now. After all, what more could I want than to be free of the threat of twenty years in prison? The answer to that isn't very simple. For more years than I choose to remember I was driven by only one desire, revenge. And only one emotion, hate, ruled my every waking thought and action. I don't have to tell you whom I hated. When I first saw you, you were only another object of that hatred… or so I told myself.

    "But I could only fool myself so long. I was pretty good at convincing myself that I hated you until you were bitten and I faced the threat of losing you. God, I was shaken. I was so panicked, so obsessed with your every waking thought and breath after that that I almost tried to draw you inside me. I had never felt the way you made me feel, Devina. I had never despised a woman with as much fury as I despised you; I had never lusted after a woman as I did for you; I had never raged at a woman, fought so relentlessly with a woman, as I fought with you; I had never tried to impose my will on a woman, to dominate a woman the way I wanted to dominate you. I had never been so confused by my feelings, so torn by the conflict of a perverse desire to cause you the pain I had suffered while at the same time I was overwhelmed by mind-shaking tenderness each time you raised your eyes to mine."

    Ross was trailing his lips over her chin, punctuating his words with light kisses against her mouth, her nose, her fluttering eyelids. Devina was becoming mesmerized by the loving words with which he assailed her. She fought to overcome her growing lethargy.

    "Ross, you must go. You don't have time to"

    Ross swallowed her words with his kiss, devoured them with his longing, erased them from her mind with his searching tongue, his relentless caresses. Drawing away at last, he spoke softly, caressingly. "A few hours ago, I thought I wanted nothing more than to be free of the prison sentence that hung over my head. I blamed you for that, too. But I was wrong about that and about a lot of other things. I didn't realize how wrong I'd been until I was racing off into the darkness with fear at my heels and an uncertain future before me. It was then that it occurred to me how much you had risked to help me. It also occurred to me that amid all the confusion, I hadn't even apologized to you."

    Ross paused, drinking long and deep from her mouth, allowing his hands to move warmly over her, tracing the curves of the warm flesh he knew so well. Devina felt the rise of his passion against her, and she steeled herself against the response that rose deep inside her. God, she must be mad…
He
must be mad to be here now, touching her, loving her when his life hung in the balance.

    Tearing his mouth from hers, Ross rested his cheek against her hair as he strove to rein in his riotous emotions. He closed his eyes briefly, his voice low and intense. "So I came back to apologize." His hand caressing her cheek, Ross raised Devina's face to his. He consumed her perfect beauty with his eyes as she searched his dark, pensive expression, seeing the uncertainty there as he began speaking again.

        "I'm sorry, Devina. I'm sorry for taking out my hatred and anger on you. I'm sorry I was too much of a fool to realize that it wasn't hate I felt for you, but love. I love you, Devina. I know that now. I also know I haven't done anything that would cause you to love me in return."

    Ross swallowed deeply, his callused hand still stroking her cheek. "But I also know it's good for both of us when you're in my arms, when I'm loving you. Your body cries out to mine, darling, and that's something to build on. And now that I'm speaking honestly to you, I suppose it's time to tell you the real reason I came back was to take you with me."

    Devina started at his words, and Ross felt her body's spontaneous reaction. He pressed with a fervent plea.

    "I want to take you with me, Devina. I want it to be just the way I planned in the cabin. We'll go to Mexico, where no one will ever find us. I have enough money from your father's payrolls for Jake, Lai Hua, you, and me to live on comfortably for a long time." Ross paused, frowning. "I don't feel any guilt about living off that money until I can get a ranch going. I figure I have at least that much coming to me from Till-Dale Enterprises."

    Ross hesitated, surveying Devina's solemn expression before continuing. "And I'll give you my solemn promise, darling. If you come with me, I'll love you, take care of you. You won't want for anything." Ross paused again, taking a deep breath. "And I'll make you forget Charles. He isn't right for you, Devina. He isn't really the man you see when you look into my eyes." Ross made a visible effort at control. "And even if you do see Charles at times, I can close my eyes to that, just as long as it's my arms that are holding you."