The Temptress (14 page)

She turned back to the planting with a vengeance. And she'd been just like them. One time she'd been doing a story on women who worked under the hideous conditions of the sweatshops and she was being very sympathetic when one woman said, “But you can afford to give sympathy because you've never had to be where we are.” It hadn't made much of an impression on her at the time, but now she was beginning to understand what the woman meant. It was easy to judge, to say what you'd do in a situation if you weren't faced with that situation.

She had wanted to be Tynan's friend, even his lover, when the only person she had to stand up against was a man who admitted he'd wanted to marry her even before he'd met her. But when she had to face the ridicule of an entire town and risk the reputation of Nola Dallas, she didn't stand up so well. She'd walked away from him at the first sign of trouble.

Chris was sure that she'd never felt so rotten in her life. She had almost earned the trust of a man who didn't give his trust very often and then she'd betrayed him. She was no better than that girl who'd been willing to see Ty hang rather than tell the truth.

And now she'd lost him. He was gone from her as if the few days they'd spent together had never been. The fragile beginnings were broken forever.

Standing, easing her back against her hand, she went to the pump and filled the water bucket. She took a drink from the dipper, shaded her eyes against the sun and looked for Tynan. He was still chopping weeds, clearing the brush away for a new area of garden.

She put the dipper into the bucket and carried it to him. “Thirsty?” she asked.

He turned, smiling at her before he caught himself and the smile disappeared. He didn't speak as he took the dipper from her.

“You look awfully hot. Why don't you sit a while?”

“No thanks, and this is nothing compared to what I've been doing the last few years of my life.”

“In prison?”

“Where they put all bad men like me. Move back so I don't hit you.”

Chris stepped back and as she did so, she could see the sweat rolling off his face and dripping into his soaked shirt collar. On impulse, she picked up the bucket of water, cold from the underground well, and threw the contents on the back of his head.

Tynan gasped at the shock of the water, then turned on her in anger.

Chris backed away from him with a little giggle. “I thought you needed cooling off.”

“Not from you I don't. I don't need anything from you.” He began to advance on her.

Chris put her hands behind her back, a big smile on her face and started moving away from him into the trees. “I didn't mean anything, Ty. Truly I didn't.”

“You never mean anything, do you? You didn't mean anything in the forest either, did you, when you nearly drove me crazy?”

“Did I?” she asked innocently. “But last night you didn't seem too upset when you saw me with another man.”

“That weakling? I'll worry when I see you with a
man.”
There was a hint of a smile on his lips as he moved toward her, deeper into the shadowy forest.

Chris found herself up against a tree and she made no effort to move as Tynan came nearer her, but she had a look of mock fearfulness.

He caught her about the waist and began to rub his sweaty face against hers. He hadn't shaved that morning and the sharp whiskers were scratching her skin. She squealed for him to stop, tried to get away from him, but he held her tight. Still struggling, she managed to get out from between him and the tree and start running. She took only a few steps before he caught her, pushing her down on the ground and continuing to rub his face about her neck and cheeks.

Chris was squealing with delight when he suddenly stopped.

She looked up at him, smiling, as he got off of her, his face solemn. “Get up,” he said.

She held up her hand for him to help her and, reluctantly, he did so. She tried to stand close to him for a moment but he didn't allow that. Silently, she turned her back to him so he could button her dress.

“Stay away from me, Chris,” he said. “You're playing with my life and I don't like it.”

She turned to face him so that his hands were on her shoulders. “I was wrong to go off and leave you. I should have stayed by you at the picnic. I was wrong and I want you to please forgive me.”

He stepped back from her. “It's better that we stay apart. In fact, I think it's better that we call off this entire masquerade. I thought it might be all right since you've done this sort of thing before, but I don't like it. Tomorrow I want to take you back to your father. After I deliver you to him, you can come back if you want. It won't matter to me because you'll no longer be my responsibility, but I can see right now that this won't work. Go back to the house now and get cleaned up and pack. I'll do what has to be done here.” With that he turned and went back into the sun to slash at the weeds.

Silently, Chris started walking back to the house.

As Chris neared the house, she saw Owen getting into a carriage and driving away. Lionel was attacking a young tree with a dull axe, Unity and the luscious Pilar were hanging clothes on the line and, with Asher away for the day, Chris was alone in the house.

She washed and changed her dirty dress and began to think about the fact that tomorrow she'd be going home. She wasn't even going to argue with Tynan about staying at the Hamilton house. Perhaps it wasn't any of her business to try to find out what Owen was doing to his nephew—if he was doing anything at all.

As she struggled with the buttons on her dress, she remembered that she was alone in the house and it occurred to her that now she had the chance to look into Owen's office.

She went up the stairs outside her bedroom and opened three doors before she found Owen's office. It was packed with papers, and there was a big oak filing cabinet in the corner. She had no idea what she was looking for but perhaps she could find it in there, or maybe she could at least find out what Owen knew about the Eskridges.

She had just opened the filling cabinet and seen a fat folder with the name of Diana Eskridge on it when she heard voices on the stairs—and one of them was the voice of Owen Hamilton.

Chris's heart began pounding as she looked for an escape route. There was only one window in the office and it was open. Without even looking outside, she stuck her leg over the casement and climbed out. The door to the office opened just as she pulled her skirt out of view.

She was standing on the smallest of ledges, about the width of a drain pipe, and below her was nothing for three stories.

She flattened her back against the wall of the dormer that contained the window to Owen's study and held on with her hands behind her.

“That trip was particularly foul,” a voice Chris didn't recognize, coming from inside the office, was saying. “Are you sure you have all the information? It's him?”

“Without a doubt. When I tell you all the trouble I had getting this, you'll believe me. Samuel Dysan is the name, isn't it?”

Chris leaned toward the window. There was something about the way they were talking that made her want to hear what they were saying.

“What about Lionel?” the stranger asked. “Did you get the little bastard's name on the papers?”

“Wait a minute, let me close this window. There are too many people living in this house for me to keep up with the whereabouts of all of them.”

Chris pulled back as he shut the window and locked it. Now she was stuck on the roof, with no way to get back inside.

The men stayed in the room an hour—the longest hour of her life. Behind her, she could hear the muffled voices of Owen and the stranger but she couldn't make out what they were saying. She heard drawers slammed, doors creaking open, then shut again, and all the while she could do nothing but stand there and try to keep her skirt from blowing across the window.

When at last the men left the room, Chris immediately tried to open the window but it was firmly locked.

“Now I've done it,” she murmured. Whatever excuse could she give for being outside this window? If Owen was stealing from his nephew, it could be quite dangerous to let him know that she was interested in what he was doing in his office.

With a big sigh, she turned back around, and as she did so, she slipped. She managed to catch herself before she actually fell, but she could feel her hand being scraped. Wincing at the pain, she grabbed for the casement ledge and pulled herself up. She was breathing quite hard by the time she reached her perch again, and she stood there, clutching the wood behind her, and was glad for her safety.

She stood there for quite some time, too fearful to move, when, below her, she began to hear sounds. Within minutes, she saw the top poles of a ladder appear, leaning against the roof line. Holding her breath, she watched to see who was coming to her rescue—or to her trial.

The relief she felt when she saw Tynan was great. “How did you know?” she asked.

He put a finger to his lips to silence her, then motioned for her to give him her hand. He led her down the roof of the second story, then guided her feet onto the ladder, his arms always surrounding her as he backed down first.

When they were at last on the ground, she clung to him for a moment. “I was so frightened.”

“You'll be more frightened if Hamilton finds out you were spying on him,” he said, peeling her arms away from him. “Let's get out of here before he sees us.”

Chris turned away just in time to see a shadow disappear around the edge of the house. “Ty! Someone was there.”

“It's only Lionel. He told me where you were. Come on!”

She ran behind him, down a path she'd not seen before, to a small cottage hidden amid the trees. As Ty hooked the ladder beneath the eaves of the house, she saw blood on the back of his shirt.

“Ty! You're bleeding.”

“No, you are,” he said, taking her wrist and turning her palm upward, looking at where the skin was scraped away. “Come inside and I'll clean it and I want you to explain what you were doing on that roof.”

“Listening,” she said as he pulled her inside. The cottage had only one room, half of it kitchen, the other half holding a big double bed. “Is this where you live with Pilar?” she asked quietly.

“Yes,” he said as he held her hand over a basin of water and began to clean it.

“Have you known her long?”

“Years.”

“And she doesn't ever betray you?”

“I've never found out. We're on the same side. Hold still so I can see this.”

“On the same side?” Chris's eyes widened. “You mean she's a lady outlaw?”

“Sure. She can outdraw anybody.”

“Oh. You're teasing me, aren't you?”

He looked at her as his head was bowed over her hand. “Climbing out the window was pretty stupid of you. If Hamilton had found you—”

“It was worth it. I heard Owen's visitor asking about Lionel. He said—pardon me, but this is a quote—‘Has the little bastard signed the papers yet?' Doesn't that sound as if they're into something dreadful?”

Ty opened a tin box on a shelf by the fireplace and withdrew clean bandages. “No, it sounds like he's met Lionel. The kid
is
a little bastard.”

“Then why was he helping you? Ouch!”

“If you'd hold still, I wouldn't hurt you. Lionel and I have an understanding.”

“He says he thinks you're a bank robber.”

“Now and then. Shrewd kid. Sit down and I'll get you some milk and cookies. I need a drink.”

“Did I scare you? Why didn't Lionel give me away and why did he come to you? Who made the cookies?”

“Pilar made the cookies,” he said, sitting down across from her at the rough table. “And Lionel has been the soul of helpfulness ever since I cracked a whip around his neck.”

Chris took a cookie but put it back on the plate. She realized that her hands were shaking and reached for Tynan's glass of whiskey. In exchange, he took her milk and began eating the cookies.

“We're going home tomorrow,” Ty said, not looking at her.

“And leaving Lionel to his own fate, I guess.”

“He's not your problem.”

“Have you ever heard of Samuel Dysan?”

“No and don't change the subject. Tomorrow we leave.”

“What if Asher doesn't agree? That'll be two against one.”

“Prescott can stay here for all I care, but tomorrow you and I leave for your father's house.”

“Just the two of us?” she asked, running her finger along the whiskey glass.

He took the glass from her and drained it. “It's time for you to go back to the house. You can say you hurt your hand on a sharp rock and couldn't work anymore.”

Chris made no effort to move but picked up a cookie. When she was with him, she never wanted to leave. “How is your back?”

“Healing quite well thanks to Pilar's gentle attentions. Chris, go away.”

She looked up at him with sad eyes. “I was wrong when I left you alone. I should have gone with you to the jail.”

“The world is full of should haves.” He stood. “I'm going back to work and I want you to go back to the house and stay out of trouble.”

“Maybe I should lock myself inside the bedroom with Asher.”

“If you can stand the boredom,” he said, slamming his hat on his head and leaving her alone in the cottage.

Reluctantly, Chris left the little cottage and started back to the main house. The sun was gone and the air was beginning to feel like rain.

“It's gonna come a storm,” Unity was saying as Chris entered the kitchen. “What'd you do to your hand?”

Chris looked up—and into the dark, pretty eyes of Pilar.

“I cut it,” Chris managed to say after a while. No wonder Ty liked her; she was utterly lovely.

“Would you like a cool drink?” Pilar asked in a soft voice. “We've just made an herb tea. It's quite good.”

“No,” Chris said, wishing the woman wouldn't be nice to her.

“You look a little pale,” Unity said. “I told Mr. Owen you shouldn't work outside. You're too little to be able to stand the outdoors.”

Chris had no idea what being small had to do with sunshine, but it was the type of comment she'd heard all her life. “Yes, I would like something to drink.”

“Pilar made cookies. Have some.”

“No, thank you, I already did,” Chris said without thinking, then looked at Pilar. There was understanding in her eyes. “On second thought, I think I'll lie down a while. Maybe the loss of blood is making me weak.”

Chris left the kitchen and was on her way upstairs when Owen called to her.

“Diana, could you come in here? There's someone I'd like you to meet,” Owen called from the parlor.

Chris knew it was the visitor she'd heard earlier and she wanted to meet this man, but as soon as she saw him, she stood still, unable to move. It wasn't that the man was ugly nor was there anything outwardly repulsive about him, but she knew he was a bad person. He was tall, dark, and his face had probably once been quite handsome, but somewhere along the way his nose had been broken and there was a scar that parted one eyebrow. In spite of the slight disfigurements, he was still good-looking—but Chris didn't want to walk inside the same room with him.

“Diana, don't be shy,” Owen was saying. “This is a friend of mine, Mr. Beynard Dysan. He's come to stay a while.”

“How…how do you do?” she managed to whisper, holding out her hand to him, although she very much didn't want him to touch her.

“It's a pleasure to meet you. Owen told me of your father's unfortunate death. I'm sorry.”

She backed away from him. “Yes,” she murmured. “I cut my hand this morning,” she said, showing her bandaged hand, “and I'm feeling a little weak. If you'll excuse me, I must go upstairs.” She fled before either of the men could protest.

Upstairs, she stood with her back to the door for a few minutes. Until now she'd not been sure there was anything wrong going on in this house. But after meeting Beynard Dysan, she knew he was involved in something evil.

She almost jumped when she heard the men on the stairs outside her room. Listening, she heard them walking up toward Owen's office. She opened the door a bit.

“I'll be ready to ride in about half an hour,” she heard Dysan say. “That way we'll be sure of privacy.”

Chris closed the door. They were going to go somewhere to talk and if she wanted to find out what was going on, now was her only chance, because tomorrow Tynan planned to take her home.

She quickly dressed in her riding habit, then tiptoed down the stairs and left the house through the narrow door in the music room. She didn't want anyone to see her. In the stables, she saw that the boy was busy saddling two horses and she slipped inside, chose a sleek black mare, saddled it and managed to get out the side door without encountering anyone.

It was easy to hide in the trees until she saw Owen and Dysan come out and mount, and it wasn't difficult to follow them at a distance. They were traveling slowly, talking, Owen pointing at things now and then.

She followed them for about four miles, across a bridge over a deep stream, down a narrow road, when they turned right onto a path and disappeared. Chris waited several minutes at the crossroad then cautiously went after them. The trees were too dense for her to see very far ahead and her heart began pounding. It would be too easy to ride into them.

With her head bent forward, she listened as intently as she could over the mare's noisy steps. Suddenly, she stopped because close ahead, she heard a loud laugh. Dismounting quickly, she tied her horse and began to move through the underbrush toward the sound of the laughter.

She'd only gone a few feet when she crouched low. Ahead of her, standing on a ridge, were Owen and Beynard Dysan.