The Rebel Wife (26 page)

Jack trailed after him. “I’d like to go with you. See what happened.”

“No. You stay out here in the waiting area. Lieutenant Gaines will be back shortly.” Beale shoved open the door and was gone before Jack could open his mouth to reply.

Stay in the reception area. Not damned likely.
One, two, three
...

Jack wheeled around and returned to Beale’s office. No sense looking this gift horse in the mouth. He cocked an ear to the door. Only the faint thump of distant hammering broke the quiet. Good. For now, he was in the clear.

He crossed to the desk and rifled through the paperwork stacked on the desktop. Command directives and daily reports. Nothing out of the ordinary. He pulled open the top drawer. It too was filled with harmless official documents. As was the next drawer, and the next. Perhaps Beale was smarter than he thought.

The distant hammering knocked loose a memory. He smiled. Some interviews were more useful than others.

Working quickly, he removed the papers from the bottom drawer and tapped on the underside. Hollow. A hidden cavity. He widened his smile.
Thank you, Alan Pinkerton
.

Using the major’s letter opener, he pried up the false bottom. Several documents lay nested in the hollow. A quick scan revealed supply requisitions from two weeks ago. It was incriminating enough that the major had seen fit to secret the papers away. More importantly was the amount of goods listed. It was triple what the supply clerk said he’d received.

He peeled a ten-spot out of his wallet and tossed it onto the desk. A little lard to smooth the way for tomorrow. He folded the documents and tucked them under his shirt. And some honey to sweeten the pot of revenge.

He had the leverage he needed to free Kitty’s brother.

Now he just had to make sure the boy was still alive.

Chapter Sixteen

“Well, well. Will wonders never cease.”

Louisa ignored the dig and turned away from the window. She was too anxious about his findings to get plucked by his verbal jabs. “You’re back.”

He closed the door behind him and strode to the bureau, his bland expression giving little hint as to how his day went. “And you’re here. I fully expected to find you gone.”

“The notion crossed my mind a time or two. Especially after finding your note.” She wagged a finger at him. “You sure got some gall, Jack Porter.”

“I apologize for not talking with you first. But I thought it best if I went alone. Get a feel for the lay of the land, so to speak.”

His sincere apology soothed her temper. Some, but not all. “I could’ve gone with you. Probably should have. You don’t know the Lawrences like I do.”

“Everything turned out just fine. You’ll find your wait was more than worthwhile.” He shrugged out of his jacket, then unraveled his necktie and yanked it free. “Whew, hot as Hades out there. What did you do with your day? You ate, I hope.”

Her mouth went dry at the sight of him undressing. For a moment, she forgot what he’d asked. “Um...I did. And learned something that might be useful.”

“What’s that?” He unfastened the top few buttons of his shirt and loosened the collar, baring his neck and a pie-slice portion of his chest.

Warmth that had nothing to do with the summer heat bubbled through her. She reached for the fan she’d fashioned from a discarded leaflet she’d found and gave her face several sweeping whiffs. Not that it’d do any good. Her whole body burned, inside and out.

“A Senator Morgan is visiting the prison tomorrow,” she said. “Lady at the eatery told me he’ll give pardons to prisoners who swear loyalty to the Union. I’m sure Lance’d be more than willing to take such an oath. We just need to get him away from the Lawrences.”

“That might be easier than you think.”

She stilled her fanning. “What? How?”

He unbuttoned the rest of his shirt and pulled out a folded wad of papers. “An explosion in one of the cookhouses provided me an opportunity to search the Provost’s office. I found these secreted in his desk.”

Sleek muscles peeked through the open folds of his shirt, just like the teasing images from her dreams. She swallowed and resumed her whisking. “You stole from him? That was awful risky, Jack.”

“It was a chance I had to take.” His expression softened. “For all of us.”

He’d done it for her. And Lance. Was it any wonder she’d fallen for him, body and soul? “What’s in those papers that you’d risk getting caught?”

“Evidence proving the major and Henry Lawrence are embezzling.”

“Embezzling?” She snapped her fan shut. “What good will their fondness for drink do us?”

He scrubbed a hand over his mouth as if smothering something. “Er...embezzling means they breached someone’s trust and took money for their own use. Appears they’re skimming from prison funds.”

Her cheeks burned at her blunder, but he didn’t seem inclined to push. A welcome change from weeks ago when he would’ve jumped at the opportunity to goad her.

She moved to the bureau and busied herself with pouring lemonade to hide her embarrassment. “I had the desk clerk send this up here. Thought you might like something refreshing after such a long, hot day.”

He tossed the papers onto the bureau and took the glass from her, his fingers grazing hers in the exchange. “That was thoughtful. Thank you.”

She watched as he lifted the glass to his lips. The nick on his neck had healed. Had the ache in his heart? She’d rather die than hurt him again. “So, how will we use this embezzling evidence to free Lance?”

He set his empty glass on the bureau. “Ahhh. That hit the spot. As you said, Senator Morgan will be visiting the prison tomorrow. With a little friendly persuasion of the monetary kind, I convinced Major Beale to add me to the list of journalists touring with the Congressman.”

“Hmmph. No surprise there. The Lawrences are greedy as pigs at the slop trough.” Papa’s pitiful wages were proof of that.

“And it’ll be their downfall. The senator’s a bulldog when it comes to investigating government corruption. I’ll find an opportunity to approach him with what I’ve found. The Lawrences won’t know what hit them.”

“What if Morgan’s in on their scheme?”

“I sincerely doubt it. But in the off chance he is, there’ll be other newspapermen present. He won’t risk doing anything stupid.”

Man thought of everything. She traced a finger over the stolen papers, still warm from being tucked next to Jack’s body. Lance said words were powerful weapons. She always believed it took more than that.

“I s’pose you’ll want me to stay here while you meet with the senator.”

“It’d be helpful if you did. That way, I can concentrate on Lance and not have to worry about your safety.”

Understandable, but still darned frustrating. She wanted to be the one to free Lance—to take down the Lawrences. But if staying behind brought her brother back safe and sound, she’d bow to Jack’s sensible judgment. After all, he had asked for her cooperation this time instead of demanding it. “Fine. I’ll wait here.”

“Good. I know waiting is hard on you. But before you know it, this’ll be all over, and you and Lance will be reunited.”

“And Jeb and Belle, too. It’s hard to believe we might actually all be together once again...” A cloud darkened her enthusiasm. “Provided Lance is still alive.”

“Oh, he’s alive.”

Blood rushed from her head. She had to brace herself against the bureau to keep from swaying. Deep inside, in that dark place she tried to ignore, she expected to find Lance dead and buried. Even now, she mistrusted what her ears had heard.

“H-how do you know? Did you see him?”

“I did, but only from a distance.”

“How did he look? Is he well?” The words rushed out on a frantic breath. “Lord, Jack why didn’t you tell me straight off?”

“Whoa, sweetheart, slow down. One question at a time.” He grasped her arm. “Let’s sit on the window bench. You look like you’re about to collapse.”

He guided her across the room, then sank beside her on the padded bench. His hand remained cupped on her elbow, strong and reassuring, but not enough to curb the riot wallowing inside her.

“Tell me, Jack. Tell me everything.”

“I will. I promise. First, take a deep breath and settle yourself.” He nodded as she did so. “That’s a good girl.”

Good girl, her sore backside. She clutched his arm, fingernails digging into his sleeve as if to pry the words from him. “Please, Jack. The wait is near killing me.”

“Fine. Guess you’re as settled as you’re going to get. I was able to convince the Provost’s adjutant to let me speak with the recent arrivals from Point Lookout. Lance was among them.”

“Praise be. How was he?”

“He looked fine from what I could tell. A little thin and dirty, but otherwise healthy.”

Dirt and thinness she could handle. “I wish I could’ve seen him. Did you speak with him?”

“There wasn’t time. Besides, he’ll be safer if he’s unaware of who I am and what we’re up to.”

Fear slithered back into her belly. “In case the guards get suspicious. How is it the major hasn’t done anything to him yet? As commandant, he certainly has the power and the opportunity.”

“Probably hasn’t had time. Your brother was on the train that wrecked in Pennsylvania. He only arrived a week ahead of us.”

“I knew it. I knew he was on that train.” She slumped over. It was too much. The ups, the downs. The constant, gut-eating worry. It was just too much to bear.

Jack slipped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a comforting squeeze. “Lance is alive and well. And we’re going to see he stays that way.”

We
. Tears stung her eyes. He was such a good man. Who would’ve thought an arrogant, pig-headed Yankee would turn out to be her champion?

“Thank you, Jack,” she whispered past the lump in her throat. “You don’t know how much this means to me.”

“I’d do anything for you, Kitty. You know that.”

The air went out of her at his sweet words. She leaned against him, no longer able to fight her feelings. She loved him. Loved his sincerity, his unwavering devotion.

Devotion she didn’t deserve.

She swiped away her tears and pushed upright. “I can’t do this.”

“Do what?”

“I have to leave.” She shot to her feet. “Find another hotel room.” Something she should have done earlier. What had she been thinking? Her fussy sleep the night before should’ve been warning enough. And just now, her reaction to his undressing...

He stood and tucked his hands behind him. “There’s no need to do that. There’s plenty of room here.”

“I can’t stay.”

“Why not?”

“I...you...” She swallowed back the words. What if she was wrong? What if he’d lied about caring for her? And here she was about to lay her feelings on the chopping block.

His concerned gaze tunneled into her. “What is it, Kitty? Why must you leave?”

“I-I can’t stay here with you...and not want...”

“Not want what?”

Misery tightened like a noose around her neck. She blinked back a fresh batch of tears. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it does.” He reached up and thumbed her chin, tracing a fiery trail over her skin. “Everything about you matters. Tell me.”

If she told him, she risked rejection. If she didn’t, she’d wonder for the rest of her life what might have been. Lordy, how had it come to this?

“Tell me what you want.”

Nothing ventured; nothing gained, Papa would’ve said. She wished Papa could’ve met Jack. He would have approved of the straight-shooting journalist, a man cut from the same cloth as himself.

“I want you, Jack,” she finally answered. “Your kisses. Your love. I want to be your wife, in every sense of the word.” There it was out in the open. Her heart thudded in anxious beats as she waited for his response.

He studied her with that deep, thoughtful stare, the one that made her insides quiver. “Why did you think you couldn’t have those things?”

“Because you deserve a well-bred lady. Someone of your own class.” She picked at the wrinkled folds of her store-bought skirt. “Not some poor, uneducated, backwoods hoyden.”

“I don’t care about your up-bringing. All I care about is you.”

“But I’m soiled and—”

He pressed a finger to her lips, stopping her. “What Bart Lawrence did doesn’t lessen what I feel for you. I’d kill the man myself if he was still alive.” He leaned forward and covered her mouth with his. His kiss was gentle and sweet and over far too quickly.

A bonfire burned in the dark depths of his gaze. “I want you, too, Kitty. Your kisses, your touch. Your body next to mine. But only if that’s what you truly want.”

“I do. More than you know.” She smoothed a crease in his sleeve with her fingertip. “But, I don’t know if I can. Bart was...” Her throat closed around the words. Kisses were one thing. What would happen when Jack touched her naked body? Would she fight and scream like a mad woman as she’d done when they first met and he’d rolled atop her? Or would she freeze? Either seemed likely. How could she give him pleasure if she couldn’t take pleasure herself?

“Look at me.”

She glanced from the painting on the wall to the mantel to the fire poker leaning against the hearth, anywhere but his all-seeing gaze. It’d kill her to see pity for her etched on his face.

“Look at me, Kitty,” he repeated, more forceful this time.

She briefly closed her eyes, gathering her courage, and then looked at him. Her breath caught in her throat. His expression was full of love and tenderness.

“Who do you see?”

“You, Jack.”

“Me. Your friend. Not Bart Lawrence. Not Calhoun. I would never hurt you.” He gently thumbed the corner of her mouth. “Ever.”

“I know you wouldn’t, but what if I can’t stop the memories of what Bart did?”

“Do you trust me?”

With all my heart
. She managed a nod.

“Your body will recognize the difference. I promise.” He again captured her mouth, this time, teasing her lips with his tongue and tormenting nips of his teeth. Heat unfurled in her lower belly, and she couldn’t hold back a moan.