The Scoundrel's Bride (45 page)

Terror had its claws in his heart. If anything happened to Morality…if Marston did anything to hurt her…Zach couldn’t bear to complete the thought.

He ran as if the hounds of hell were after him, but he knew in his soul that they waited up ahead.

MORALITY ALMOST made it to the stairs. Surprise had given her an advantage, but Henrietta Marston outweighed her by a good fifty pounds, and the older woman’s rage gave her added strength. She caught Morality around the waist and wrestled her away from the stairwell. The sound of their panting breaths was lost in the roar of the wind sweeping into the cupola.

Morality fought for all she was worth. She kicked and scratched and even bit. She didn’t want to die.
Please, Lord. She didn’t want to die
.

From below rose a voice. “What is going on up there?”

“Go away, Edwin.” Henrietta shoved her against the flash glass of summer, blazing a brilliant red from the constant bolts streaking the sky outside. “I’ll take care of this problem, just as I’ve done with all the others.”

Thunder rattled the windows against Morality’s shoulders, and she shuddered, trapped between the violence outside and that which stood before her. She heard footsteps pounding up the stairs, but she focused all her attention and strength on resisting the force of Henrietta Marston’s shove.

Morality’s hands stretched toward the spindles on the railing that encircled the round opening in the floor.
Just a little more, she told herself
, reaching. Reaching.

Then, suddenly, she was out in the storm. The door slammed shut, and the latch locked behind her.

The wind almost swept her off her feet. She put her hands above her head, swaying as hail pounded her body. The gale blew her to her knees, and Morality fought to grab hold of the railing that surrounded the widow’s walk. Finally, her fingers curled around the wood and she held on for dear life.

Morality lost all notion of the passage of time, but then something—some sixth sense—made her brave the wind and rain and hail and look up. She breathed a soft, broken moan when she spied the whirling, twirling white cloud.

Tornado.

ZACH BURST through Season’s House’s front door and followed the sounds of shouting.

“What are you doing!” E.J. Marston yelled from above. A chill ran up Zach’s spine at Henrietta Marston’s insane cackle. “I’m saving your hide one more time, you cheating fool.”

Zach bounded up the first flight of stairs. Panic gripped him as he heard E.J. shout, “My God, you put the girl outside? What are you thinking! Give me that gun!”

Morality must be on the widow’s walk. In this storm. Damn them. Damn them!

The staircase opened onto the second floor and Zach lifted his head as he ran, gazing up through the railed circular opening past the third floor to the cupola. He saw E.J. Marston lunge for Henrietta.

All the way up the second flight of stairs, Zach listened to the signs of the struggle. Henrietta was screaming unintelligible words. E.J. swore viciously.

Zach paid them little mind, his entire being focused on reaching Morality.

E.J. WENT for the Colt. He was afraid in a way he’d never before been afraid. He didn’t know this woman, this…monster. “Give me the gun!” he demanded, feeing her hot breath against his face.

Lightning flashed and the cupola lit in bursts of red, orange, green, and blue. In that moment, she yanked the gun away from him. Smiling a demented smile, she pointed it at his heart. “Cheater. Adulterer!” she screamed. “I could have been a President’s wife!”

He read her intentions in the crazed expression on her face. He looked into her eyes and saw the face of hell.
Because of me. This is my fault
. A cold chill touched his soul as he realized just what evil his actions and ambitions had generated.

In the second before the gun exploded, E.J. lunged for his wife.

Off balance, she tumbled over the railing.

Dragging him with her.

THE FUNNEL cloud danced its way toward Morality, and as it drew closer, the rain ended and the wind abruptly died. An utter, anticipatory stillness fell over the land.

And into the stillness came the sound of a shot.

Morality rose and stared through the orange glass in time to see both the Marstons tumble over the railing. She watched E.J.’s hands grasp the wooden spindles. She heard Henrietta’s dying scream abruptly stop. She listened as E.J. begged for help.

Morality heard an ominous roar behind her.

Zach bounded into the cupola and E.J. shouted, “Son, please! I can’t…hold on…any longer.”

Zach’s wild gaze searched for her. Found her. He tossed a brief glance at his father, then started toward her.

No. He’s your father
. “Help him, Zach!” she cried. “Help him first. I’m fine! Save your father first!”

“Please,” Marston begged, one hand falling away, the second slipping.

Time seemed to stop as Zach’s gaze captured hers. She could feel his indecision as they connected across the distance. Then a calm—a peaceful, loving, total serenity— filled her soul.
Ah, Zach, I love you so
. “Do it,” she called. “I’ll be fine! Have faith, Zach. Have faith!”

Zach blinked. It was a matter of seconds.
Faith, she says. Oh, hell
.

He reached for his father’s arm, catching it as his grip fell away. Marston was sobbing as Zach planted his feet, held fast, grabbed the other flailing arm and pulled.

The roar was upon them—on top of them—as Marston came up over the railing and tumbled to the floor. “Morality!” Zach screamed as both the blue and the green glass shattered.

He saw her silhouetted against the sky, and he reached for her, but his father grabbed his knees and yanked him to the floor. “Stay down!” Marston cried as glass flew toward them.

The storm’s roar was deafening, and Zach couldn’t hear the sound of his own voice as he called her name over and over. Something hit his head, scrambling his thoughts. The stairwell was inches away and, somehow, Marston pulled them both down inside it, just as the roof disappeared. Zach felt himself lifted off the ground, but his father wouldn’t let loose of his knees, keeping him anchored. “Angel!” He couldn’t feel the blood running down his face, so numb was he in both body and mind.

It was over in seconds. Seconds that took years to tick away. Zach lifted his head.

“Oh, God.” It was a cry from the soul.

All but the center portion of Season’s House lay in rubble. The cupola was demolished. Gone.

And so was Morality.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

REALITY AND ILLUSION MERGE as the wind whirls her round, and around, and around. She is flying, but unafraid. A cushion of light pillows her, an essence of love holds her cradled in its arms, protected from the violence swirling around her.

The ground is far below and earthly fears arise within her. She turns her head. Sees the face. She feels a gentle touch on her lips, and hears the words in her heart, “Sleep, Morality
.”

Morality awoke to a brilliant light and a joyous symphony of birdsong. She sat up, brushed the tangled hair away from her face, and stared around her.

Flowers. Thousands of them in a rainbow of hues, a multiplicity of shapes and textures. The beauty of the sight made her smile.

She sat in the middle of a rectangular patch of blue morning glories, bordered on her right by a strip of yellow jasmine, and on the left by a sweep of snowy bridal wreath. Beyond those grew roses and lilies. Warmed by sunshine and surrounded by a mysterious, insulating haze, the flowers perfumed the air and brought Paradise to mind. She turned her head from side to side. “Paradise. Is that it?” she marveled aloud. “Is this Heaven?”

She felt a pang in her heart. She hadn’t been ready to leave Zach.

“Do not worry, my dear, for it is not yet your time.”

The melodious voice was like fresh air in Morality’s soul. She’d never heard music so sweet and warm and overflowing with love. She turned toward the sound, and the question in her heart was fulfilled.

An angel. Dressed in a flowing white robe, she hovered just above the flowers. Her eyes were a brilliant, morning-glory blue, and her skin glowed with a radiance beyond anything Morality had imagined. The gentle smile on her face was a bridge to Heaven itself.

Wonder filled Morality’s voice. “I saw you before. In the twister. I saw you in the wind.” She paused for a moment, then said with astonishment and shock, “You look like Zach!”

The spirit laughed. It was the sweetest sound ever heard by human ears. “He does have an angelic side to him, doesn’t he?”

Again the smile, and Morality felt it in her heart. “Who…who are you?” she breathed.

“Why, I am your Guardian, of course. I have been for some time now. I am Sarah.”

“Sarah?” Morality rose to her feet. She studied the face, the eyes. “Zach’s Sarah? Sarah Burkett?” At the brush of angel wing against her arm, a warm current of love flowed through her.

The angel said, “You were right, you know. You are his miracle.” Invisible hands turned her around. “Just as he is yours.”

The mist parted and there, framed by the arch of a rose-covered latticework trellis, stood Zach.

“God’s promise,” Morality murmured.

“God’s gift,” the angel replied.

For a long moment, neither she nor Zach moved. Then both were running, flying toward one another. Even as she heard him call her name, she heard the angel’s song serenade her heart. “Treasure the love you share, my children. It is God’s gift to you both.”

The joyful melody expanded, filling her heart, and her mind, and the universe, as Zach Burkett wrapped her in his loving arms.

“Hell, angel. I was so damned scared.”

That was the real Zach Burkett, all right. No dream or heavenly illusion. A lump of emotion constricted Morality’s throat, but when she saw a suspicious glimmer in Zach’s eyes, she forced herself to scoff, “Really, Zach. Your language. What would your mother say?”

“She’d tell me to soap my mouth, hold my wife, and count my blessings.” He squeezed her tight, then lifted her, twirling her around. Morality threw back her head and laughed.

Until he stopped her laughter with a kiss.

“Ah, Morality,” he breathed when they finally came up for air. “I couldn’t find you. What’s left of the cupola is half a block away in the opposite direction. I dug through the rubble, scared I’d find you. Scared I wouldn’t.” Reverently, he touched her face. “I found your shoes, angel. Nothing else, just your shoes.”

Her heart broke at the look on his face when he glanced down at her bare feet. She rested her head against his chest. “But you’re here, now. You found me.”

He inhaled a deep breath, then spoke in a gruff voice. “I had a hunk of window glass in my hand—the blue color that stood for winter. I was staring at the shard, thinking how appropriate since I felt so icy-cold inside.” He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “Then, all of a sudden, I…knew. I knew you were safe and that I’d find you tucked away in the Marstons’ flower garden.”

He paused and she looked up at him. His brow was lowered in a frown. “It’s crazy, Morality. You won’t believe this. Something told me. Someone. I felt… I saw…”

She laid her finger across his lips. “You’re wrong. I do believe, Zach. I always have. And now, you do, too.”

For a long moment he watched her, saying nothing, revealing none of his thoughts. Morality waited in a silent show of faith. He’d come a long way, traveled farther than most, but he had arrived at last. She knew it, and deep within himself, he must know it, also. He simply needed to acknowledge it.

Slowly, Zach’s lips lifted in a grin so sweet, so gentle, that she caught a glimpse of Sarah in his smile. Tears pooled in Morality’s eyes as he brushed her lips with his.

“Yes,” he said, his voice resonant with peace. “You’re right, angel. Now I believe, too.”

EPILOGUE

Thanksgiving Day, 1873

WITH A RESOUNDING
KABOOM
, a wall of water and wood fragments exploded from the middle of the Red River. As the onlookers from the snag boat whooped and hollered and cheered, Zach turned to his wife and observed, “Sort of reminds me of making love with you.”

Morality groaned, but didn’t hide her smile as she slapped his arm. “You are a mess, Burkett.”

He lifted his shoulders. “Just speaking the truth, wife. As always.” Watching the debris that continued to fall back to earth, he added, “Don’t take this personal, but after seeing fifteen pounds of nitroglycerin in action, I reckon it’s even more powerful than that bit of black lace you wore to bed last week. And that’s saying something. Eulalie’s designs have gotten downright wicked over the years.”

Morality’s chuckle brought a smile to his heart that felt extra good on this bittersweet day. He put his arm around her waist and said, “That’s it. That’s the beginning of the end.”

“The last of the Red River raft,” she replied with a melancholy smile. “Joshua’s probably jumping for joy.”

“Fishing’s always better when the water level goes down,” Zach replied, following her line of thought. “He’s liable to come hunting our boys for company when he heads out in search of a passel of new fishing holes.”

Green eyes glittered with amusement as Morality added, “East Texas catfish should be grateful he’s only recently retired.”

“I know Louise is.” Zach glanced around the snag boat, otherwise known as an Uncle Sam’s tooth-puller, for his children. “Joshua’s about to drive her crazy being home all the time. She stopped by the railroad office the other day begging me to find something to keep him busy.”

“So, what did you come up with?” Morality’s brows lifted. The merger of Marston Shipping and the East Texas spur of the Texas Southern railroad had been nothing but a trial to its owner and president, Zach Burkett, since it occurred.

Zach rubbed a hand over his jaw. Damn. He hadn’t intended to bring this up. Looking off over the river, he mumbled, “I asked him to make a trip back East to oversee the selling of our boats.”