Wishes on the Wind (56 page)

    "I know what yer thinkin', Sean, and yer wrong."

    Terry's unexpected statement turned Sean toward the bigger man with resentment. "So you know what I'm thinkin' now, too."

    "Aye, I do. Yer thinkin' that we're reportin' to work like two fools while
everythin's
comin' down around us." Terry's face lost some of its hardness. "While yer sister and my wife is up on that hill tryin' to save the man whose life we drew lots for."

    Sean's handsome face drew into a sneer. "That drawing was a farce and you knew it all along."

    "It was a necessary deception, Sean. Kehoe was worried"

    "Kehoe… Kehoe! It's not
that
man I'm thinkin' about now! Nor am I thinkin' about David Lang, for I've not a care in my head whether he lives or dies. It's my sister I'm worryin' about. I want her home, where she belongs, where I can care for her and know that she's safe from that arrogant lecher who'd use her and then throw her away."

    Terry stiffened. "Lang's past
usin
' anybody right now. Ye heard  the report. He's hangin' on to life by a thread, and once he's gone, Meg'll come home. She has nowhere else to go."

    Sean directed a pointed look into Terry's eyes. "Aye, I suppose that's true, but I'll make myself clear to you right now. Meg was my sister before she was your wife, and when it comes down to it, the bond of blood is stronger. So whatever happens between you both, I'll not stand for a hair of her head to be touched."

    Terry's coarse features tightened. "I'd never hurt Meg."

    Skepticism touched Sean's face. "Would you not?"

    Terry was obviously angered. "Did I not tell ye that I love the woman?"

    "Many a blow's been struck in the name of love."

    "Nay, not by me."

    Sean unconsciously glanced up. The window where Lang had looked down on them every morning was conspicuously empty, and Sean laughed. Terry made no comment, waiting until they drew near the lift that would soon take them underground before he drew Sean back to a point of partial seclusion. "I'll say this once and not say it again. Yer sister gave me her trust and, because of circumstances, it was somewhat undeserving. But she knows the truth now, Sean, and that truth binds her closer to me than lies ever could. We'll be together again, yer sister and me, and I'll make it good for her somehow. Ye can trust in me word."

    Terry's face was open, and Sean could read his friend's pain. Aye, the man loved his Meg, but that was not enough. "If it comes to a choice between the two of you, you know who'll be the one I'll choose."

    "Aye. I know."

    Sean nodded. "Just so's we understand each other."

    Terry's unexpected smile was rife with unspoken warning. "It's a strange reaction yer sister has on her men. They'd rather lose their lives than lose her."

    Sean's response bore a warning in return. "So they would."

    The bedroom door clicked closed behind Dr. Wilson as he left the room, but Meg did not look up. She stroked David's cheek gently, swallowing against the rush of emotions that filled her.

    
David… David…

    Beads of perspiration lined his brow and upper lip and, taking a cloth from the bedside table, she blotted his face dry. Morning had come but his waxy pallor remained, and although less agitated, his breathing was still uneven. A lock of hair had fallen on his forehead, and Meg gently stroked it back, studying him more closely than before.

    She had never known a man more handsome than David Lang. His strong, masculine features had become even more appealing with the passage of years. His wide shoulders seemed all the more broad for the bloodstained bandage that covered his chest, and when closely scrutinized, the full length of him from head to toe, David's powerful presence had not abated even in his helpless state. But through it all came a touching vulnerability that was not solely the result of his weakened state, and Meghan realized that it was a vulnerability that was visible to her alone. Because David loved her.

    With deepening anguish, Meg knew that she saw this side of David simply because she loved him in return, and a sense of utter futility overwhelmed her. David was fighting for his life while she knew in her heart that the two men closest to her had somehow been involved in the plot to kill him.

    The bedroom door opened, and Meg stiffened as Dr. Wilson came back into the room. Walking to her side, he whispered, "There's someone downstairs to see you."

    Meg's heart began an anxious pounding. Slipping her hand from David's lax grip, she left the bedroom and started down the staircase, only to halt abruptly midway when she saw her aunt standing just outside the open front door. Her heart thudding against her ribs, she burst into motion again, her feet fairly flying over the steps the rest of the way down.

    Gripping the woman's shoulder, she gasped, "Aunt Fiona, what happened?"

    "Nothin', me dear. Ye need not fear." Hastening to reassure her, her aunt continued. "I've not come with bad news, for
everythin's
quiet at home."

    Meg scrutinized her aunt's round, lined face. There was something different about her as she spoke again. "I heard the young master here is gravely injured, and it was me thought that ye'd made yer decision to remain until the fellow is out of danger." Aunt Fiona hesitated. "I knew ye'd have difficulty if ye stopped back at the house for fresh clothes, so I brought ye a few things."

    Meg's surprise was clearly reflected on her face. "You did that for me, Aunt?"

    Aunt Fiona raised her chin. "Aye, I did. Me only regret is that

    I was so long in
lendin
' ye the support ye was deservin' all these years."

    "But Uncle Timothy"

    "Ye need not worry about him." Aunt Fiona's chin rose a notch higher. "We've come to an understandin' that was long overdue, and I'll not cower again to his bluster."

    Speechless, Meg saw the first trace of uncertainty accompany a new sadness in her aunt's expression as the woman added, "But if I'm to be truthful, I must say ye've not heard the last of it from yer two men, there's that much tension between them at home."

    Meg was incredulous at her aunt's unexpected display of courage. "And you risked their displeasure by coming here now? I don't know what to say."

    Aunt Fiona's unexpected smile kindled a glow in eyes that too often had only reflected anxiety. "Aye, Meg, and I do it gladly, for ye've been more than a daughter to me all of these years, and I'm able to look meself in the face for the first time. And I tell ye now so I may make things clear. Ye may call on me whenever yer in need, and I'll not let ye down again. I'll not judge ye right or wrong in comin' to this house, for I know all ye do is in the name of love, and not many can say the same."

    Tears brightened her small brown eyes as Aunt Fiona kissed Meg's cheek unexpectedly. "Ye've but to send me word, Meg."

    Still standing in the doorway moments later as Aunt Fiona disappeared from sight around the corner of the house, Meg clutched the package of clothing the dear woman had brought her against her chest. It was more than her clothing. It was a symbol that was long overdue, and it was all the more precious because of it.

    Suddenly aware of her extended absence from David's room, Meg glanced up at the second floor. Her steps following her thoughts, Meg pushed open the door a few moments later and paused at the sight of David's renewed thrashing.

    From the dark deed that had been done, a spark of good had emerged. But the evil and pain remained.

    The heat of the day showed no abatement, and Terry had felt little inclination to obey the summons from Kehoe awaiting him at the conclusion of his shift. The dim hope that Meg had returned home was dashed at the first sight of Fiona O'Reilly's stiff countenance as he walked through the kitchen doorway, and it     occurred to him in passing that he'd never seen the woman present such a strong mien before.

    But the old woman meant little to him in comparison with the dire state of present affairs, and he had quickly bathed, changed, and, barely avoiding an argument with Sean, had caught the next train to Girardsville.

    Arriving at Kehoe's back door, he had found security to be especially tight. Pressed to repeat the sign and password for admittance despite recognition of his face, his temper had flared, and he had reached Kehoe's upstairs room in a black mood. But his own short temper was eclipsed by Kehoe's rage as the meeting of division body masters began.

    "Fools that ye are, it seems I can depend on none of ye to do a job well!" Turning to the Tamaqua body master whose men had been pressed to return the "favor" of Patrolman Yost's assassination with the attempted assassination of David Lang, he hissed, "Ye and yer
men've
brought the Brotherhood down another notch with yer fumbling! Lang still lives!"

    "It was not the fault of me men, Jack." Defending himself, McClelland gestured wildly. "There's not a man here who could've done better! Linden was warned of what was comin', I tell ye! There could be no other reason for the personal guard bein' put on Lang that mornin', and it was lucky me men was able to make their escape."

    "I'll not tolerate yer excuses!" His high color deepening, Kehoe continued hotly. "Lang's off limits for the time being, with half the Coal and Iron Police force outside his door, but I have me thoughts as to who the informer would be. And so I tell ye now, we'll wash this blot from our luster with blood, and more blood. The first will be accomplished before a month is gone, and we'll have put Squire Thomas
Gwyer
six feet under, where he belongs."

    Low grunts echoed around the table as the name of the Welsh Justice of the Peace, a long-established foe of the Mollies, was introduced, but Kehoe had not yet finished.

    "And we'll not be satisfied until
Gomer
James follows him down."

    The mumbling grew louder, and Terry was aware that most were in vehement agreement that the hated Welshman who had gunned down Edward Cosgrove, a member of the Brotherhood in high standing, on the streets of Shenandoah a year earlier was only getting his due.

    As for himself, Terry felt little satisfaction as the plans were  affirmed, for he had seen Kehoe's eye rest on him with special significance, and he knew what was in store.

    The heat of the meeting far exceeding the increasing temperature of the room, Terry listened in silence as it drew to an end. Rising from his chair with the others, he made his way toward the door, only to feel Kehoe's hand on his arm.

    Meeting the man's eyes with a level gaze, Terry did not flinch as Kehoe stated flatly, "We've things to discuss, Terry."

    Nodding, Terry allowed the others to file out the door, and as he turned to face Kehoe once more, it occurred to him that the bloody pattern of his life was
setthat
Meg had done well to work her way free of him. And he realized with a sudden sadness, that even in knowing that, he was still unwilling to let her go.

    David slowly opened his eyes. His sense of disorientation complicated by the pain in his chest, he glanced instinctively to the bed beside him. He groaned softly, his pain increasing. It had been a dream. Meg wasn't there.

    David closed his eyes, submitting to the wave of weakness overwhelming him as memory returned. He had left the colliery and had ridden his horse wildly to the top of the hill. He had been looking down on the valley when he heard the shot.

    Total recall returned the crushing pain that slammed into his chest, the helplessness as he had awakened briefly and found himself looking up at the blue sky above him, unable to move. The rest was a blur of shouting voices, breathless torment, and embattled dreams. Then he had heard Meg's voice. It had seemed so real, so right to open his eyes and see Meg beside him. He had felt her breath against his lips, had felt her hand caress his cheek. He had looked deeply into her eyes and gained strength. And each time he had awakened after that, he had seen her there.

    Glancing toward the window, noting the setting sun was sending shafts of gold across the darkening sky, he realized he was truly awake at last, and he was alone.

    A sound at the door caught his attention the moment before it opened to admit Dr. Wilson, and he saw the man halt, surprised to see him totally lucid.

    "Well, conscious at last." A smile briefly picked up the corners of Dr. Wilson's mouth and his full mustache twitched. "There'll be hell to pay when it becomes known that after three days of constant attendance, you finally awakened in the few seconds when you were left alone."

    "Three days…"

    "That's right." Dr. Wilson examined him briefly as he continued talking. "And I don't mind telling you that I had my doubts that you'd pull through for a little while there." Stepping back, a pleased smile on his face, the doctor continued. "But barring unforeseen incidents, you should be as good as new in a month or so."

    The door opened and Grace's joyful exclamation turned David to his cousin's flushed face as she rushed toward him. Halting abruptly beside the bed, Grace wiped a tear from her eye as she leaned toward him and gently kissed his cheek.

    "Oh, David, you've tortured me so."

    David would have laughed had he possessed the strength. Instead, he managed, "I'm sorry, Grace. I didn't do it purposely."

    "I suppose you didn't, but"

    But David was no longer listening. His gaze riveted on the doorway, he was unable to take his eyes from the image of Meg he saw there. Unwilling to test the truth of the apparition, he did not speak as she approached the bed. At the first touch of her hand on his, David closed his eyes.

    "David?" Meg's voice, sweeter than any sound he had ever heard, was close beside him. "Are you feeling badly? David…"

    Turning his hand to hold hers fast, he looked up into Meg's eyes. "I'm fine, now."

    Unnoticed, Dr. Wilson and Grace withdrew to the hallway and closed the door behind them as David attempted to speak again. His voice failed, the weakness accomplishing his wish more adroitly than he could have consciously maneuvered as Meg drew closer.

    "Meg, I want…"

    Her clear eyes became intense as his voice faltered again and she urged, "Aye, what do you want, David?"

    "I want you to kiss me, Meg."

    A watery glaze momentarily diluted the brilliant silver-blue of the eyes so close to his. David saw Meg's lips tremble as she emitted a small, shaken laugh.

    "Ah, David. You're ever the one to press your advantage."

    Beginning to succumb to the darkness hovering around him, David attempted a response, only to find it cut off by the warmth of Meg's mouth against his. The taste of her a joy unsurpassed, David raised his hand to her hair, tightening his fingers in her

    stubborn curls to hold her lips against his for as long as his strength remained.

    Content, the scent of Meg's nearness warming him, her breath bathing his lips, David drifted off into peaceful sleep.

Chapter 25

    Meg walked swiftly along the hallway, carefully balancing the loaded tray in her hands. A familiar annoyance creased her brow. Three weeks had passed since the attempt on David's life, and in recent days her life had begun bearing a disturbing resemblance to a period long ago.

    Meg recalled the scramble to make up David's tray that she had just witnessed in the kitchen, and the care with which David's special meal was prepared. How had he done it? How had he managed to wind the household help, those three world-weary spinsters in the kitchen who could have been nothing more than strangers to him a short time ago, so efficiently around his finger?

    "Oh, Mr. David likes his toast buttered…"

    "Oh, Mr. David likes his roast
very
well done…"

    "Oh, Mr. David has a weakness for berry pie…"

    Meghan groaned. If they were not such truly dear women, she would probably strangle them!

    The thought suddenly occurred to Meg that she was being unfair. Actually, the three below were a tremendous improvement on the staff that had formerly served Lang Manor. They evidenced none of the resentment that had been the bane of her existence when she was employed here, although she supposed every one of them in the kitchen had a perfect right to protest her supervision of household affairs after Grace Lang Haas had returned to her home in Philadelphia two weeks earlier.

    In the time since, following Dr. Wilson's recommendations for David's care to the letter, she had begun having daily consultations with the staff and everything had run exceedingly smoothly. David's recovery was going well, and for the most part he had almost returned to his former self, except for bouts of weakness. She suspected the reason he still insisted on having supper in his room was because she had begun taking supper with him after Grace left, and he did not want to relinquish the private world that enveloped them there.

    Sadness touched Meg. In David's and her private world there was no hatred. There was no prejudice, and no one swore blood oaths of retribution. They were able to talk reasonably to each other and discuss the differences that had come between them, and for the first time she believed she occasionally saw understanding in his eyes. But as they had drawn closer in so many ways, Meg had made certain to put distance between them in others in an attempt to avoid the obvious danger.

    The outside world intruded with visits from Captain Linden, however, and the aura remained for hours after he left. David encouraged her to stay while the sober policeman made his reports, but she refused. Despite her private feelings, she wanted no knowledge of anything that might eventually bring down some of her own.

    She had had little contact with the valley with the exception of Aunt Fiona, who returned several times to bring her things from home. She had not asked questions about Sean or Terry, because she could not bear to know.

    Father Matthew had visited her briefly, but had been strangely formal. His eyes assessing the situation, he had gauged the tenor of affairs between David and herself, and satisfied that David was still recuperating, had left without much to say. Strangely, he had not advised her to go home.

    Reaching David's door, Meg balanced the tray carefully as she tapped on the door with her foot. A brief reply from within brought her into the room to see David's frown. His voice bore a note of frustrated sarcasm.

    ''I suppose you think you have me at a disadvantage, and that's the reason you've become so stubborn of late."

    "Of late?" Meg carefully placed the tray on the table that had been set up in the room, and watched as David drew himself to his feet. He had insisted on dressing each day as soon as he had been able to stand. In his trousers and slippers, his unbuttoned shirt exposing the bandages that still covered his chest, he appeared almost cavalier, and she could not resist some lighthearted teasing. "Didn't you always tell me that I was difficult?"

    His expression deadly serious as he sat at the table, David clamped his hand over hers as she attempted to remove the plates from the tray. "I don't want you working like a servant in this house, Meg. Let Myrtle carry the tray and serve us."     "Release my hand, David." David frowned, reluctantly complying, and Meg continued. "I'll not have the women serve me, for I have no true place in this house."

    "You have a place,
dammit
!" Anger flushed David's face red. "You're here because I want you here. You're my guest." David's voice suddenly softened, as did the anger in his eyes. "A very cherished guest. Oh, Meg"

    Grasping her around the waist with unexpected strength, David pulled her onto his lap, holding her prisoner in his arms as he hushed her struggling protests with a soft admonition. "Be still, Meg. You wouldn't want to reopen my wound."

    David's lips were only inches from hers and Meg's heart began a heady pounding as she mumbled, "This is unfair, David."

    Their mouths touched for the first time since those critical hours when he hovered near death, and David's soft groan echoed deep inside her as he pulled her closer. His kiss deepened, drawing from her with a passionate thirst. His long fingers slipped into her hair, tightening in the stubborn curls, refusing to relinquish them even as he drew back, his mouth a hairsbreadth from hers.

    He was trembling, and Meg warned breathlessly, "You're still weak, David. You shouldn't strain yourself."

    "It isn't weakness that's quaking through me, Meg. God, no." Sipping from her lips with short, nipping kisses, he halted her attempt to pull away. "No, Meg, don't. You know what a stubborn sort I am, and I'm not going to let you go until we've talked some things out."

    "No, David."

    "Yes. Look at me, Meg."

    Drawn to his gaze by the tone of plea in his command, Meg was instantly mesmerized by the heated sparks of gold that had come to life in his eyes. She remembered that look and the passion that evoked it, and a familiar longing stirred inside her. She was trembling as much as he when David whispered, "We belong together, Meg."

    She attempted to shake herself free but his grip tightened. "No, please, Meg."

    When her protests again stilled, he pressed his mouth lightly to hers, trailing his loving attentions across her cheek to her temple, her brow, and the lashes that fluttered under his lips. "I love you, Meg. I want you with me. Neither of us is complete when we're apart. You know that as well as I."

    "David"

        "No, let me finish. You've never truly been out of my mind since the day I pulled a disheveled little girl out from under that bush on the hillside, her face scratched and dirty, her hair covered with webs and leaves. That little girl's blue eyes burned me, and I somehow knew I'd never be able to forget her.

    "I loved you all those years ago, Meg, and I love you now, but my stubborn pride got in the way. It wouldn't accept your placing duty before our love. As it turned out, we were both wrong, Meg. You dedicated your life to a deathbed promise and a bond of blood that's only resulted in blood being spilled. And I've proved to myself that pride is a poor substitute for love."