Evening Star

by Catherine Coulter

  When he set her down in their bedroom, she leaned weakly against him for several moments, then drew back, her eyes resting on his grim face.

  “You will be careful of the baby, won’t you, Alex?”

  “Yes. What the hell are you doing now?”

  “I’m taking off my gown,” she said.

  “Forget that for the moment. I’m too tired from exercising at the gym and other things.”

  She looked at him for a long moment, then shrugged. “It appears I must find another way,” she said, more to herself than to him.

  “I would appreciate it. I wouldn’t care to have my wife hung for murdering a scoundrel like Randall Bennett.”

  Her eyes flew to his face. “How did—?”

  “My dear girl, when I realized you would go out alone, regardless of my wishes, I hired a man to watch over you. I could not be certain your adventure with the strikers was as innocent as I believed. Flobb informed me this morning of your meeting with Mr. Bennett. Now, if you are quite through with your tears and laughter, I would appreciate hearing why you didn’t tell me about him.”

  She sighed deeply. “You always contrive to make me feel like a fool.”

  “It isn’t terribly difficult.”

  Her eyes darkened. “Excellent,” he said, smiling. “I was afraid you had turned into a weak-kneed woman. Sit down, Giana. Your center of gravity has shifted, and I don’t want you to lose your balance.”

  “He threatened to ruin us if I told you,” she said.

  “Surely you didn’t believe him.”

  “Of course I did. He hates me for rejecting him four years ago. He knows that we aren’t married, and he is threatening to inform the world if I don’t pay him ten thousand dollars.”

  “Ah,” he said.

  “His valet was the man chasing me that day.” She fell silent, but the quiet was deafening. “I wanted to threaten him, Alex. I didn’t want you to know.”

  “But you came to the shipyard to tell me, did you not?”

  She nodded. “You weren’t there.”

  “Tell me something, Giana,” Alex said thoughtfully. “Why didn’t you tell me about this last night? I do have a few more resources available to me than you do.

  “Why?” he repeated when her silence lengthened.

  “I was afraid for you. I didn’t want him to hurt you.”

  He gazed at her intently for a long moment, then said evenly, “Well, you can forget the entire incident, and Randall Bennett as well now.”

  “How can I forget it? Alex, he will do what he threatened. He can make things very uncomfortable for all of us. I don’t want you hurt. You don’t deserve it. He is serious, Alex.”

  “A man with a broken nose and a cracked jaw has difficulty making himself understood,” he said calmly.

  “Broken nose?”

  “I beat the hell out of Randall Bennett. Very enjoyable,” he said as an afterthought. “His valet too.”

  “How could you? You don’t even look messed up.”

  He held out his hand and showed her his bruised knuckles. She lightly touched her fingers to the broken skin and felt him flinch slightly. “Why?” she asked.

  He smiled sardonically. “If we had been truly married, I would have promised to love, honor, and cherish you.”

  “But none of that applies to us.”

  “I suppose it doesn’t,” he said slowly, sounding suddenly tired. “In any case, I told Bennett that if he opened his mouth I would carve his tongue out and force him to eat it. Coming from a savage American, I think such a threat sounded believable. At least he appeared to believe me. He should be returning to hearth and home in England soon.”

  “I think he is desperate for money,” Giana said.

  “Scoundrels usually are.” He gave her an almost savage smile. “Actually, my love, I know he is on his way to England. A couple of my men escorted him to a departing ship. I did pay his passage. Incidentally, I also sent a letter to your mother. She will keep an eye on Sir Galahad when he arrives in London. Now, Giana, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll lie down for a while. You scared the hell out of me.”

  “Do you mind if I join you? My legs still feel rubbery.”

  “Only if you promise to keep your distance.”

  Alex was on the point of relaxing when he heard Giana giggle beside him. “I dread knowing what amuses you,” he said.

  “Randall’s beautiful face. Did you really break his nose?”

  “You’re a bloodthirsty little savage,” he said.

  Chapter 25

  “Derry,” Giana shouted, raising her head from the letter, “we’ve done it. The first thirty reapers are on their way from Chicago to New York, despite the strikes, despite all the wretched lawsuits. My representative in London will be able to fill the orders he’s contracted—in two months, at the latest.”

  “We’re not going to lose our skirts?”

  Giana grinned. “Indeed not. We’re going to buy more skirts.” She danced around her desk, a joyous smile on her face, and threw her arms around a smiling Derry. “I was so afraid,” she said, squeezing Derry until she yelped.

  “So was I, Giana. So was I.” She paused a moment, shaking her head. “I’m not certain if Charles will be pleased or disappointed.”

  “Well, he certainly will make a goodly amount of interest. Actually, I’m inclined to believe that he’ll twit Alex unmercifully for having such an unfeminine wife.”

  “At least that is better than those cold silences.”

  “The Lord be praised for that. The Lord and us, that is. Now I must go tell Alex.”

  Anesley congratulated her warmly at the news. “Unfortunately, Mrs. Saxton, Mr. Saxton is at the shipyard. He was in a bear of a mood this morning, ma’am, and went to work it off. Shall I send a clerk to have him fetched?”

  “Oh no, Anesley,” Giana said. “I’ll find him.”

  “But, Mrs. Saxton—” Anesley began, but she nearly danced out of the office.

  A drayer shouted at her to mind where she was going, and she waved gaily at him, narrowly escaping another oncoming beer wagon in her haste to cross South Street. Alex would be pleased, he just had to be. She had won.

  She took a deep breath of the winter air, frosty and clean, as she made her way through the throngs of people, horses and mules jostling among them. As she approached the Saxton shipyard, the smell of the bay, of freshly cut lumber, and the smoky scent of the iron foundry just to the north greeted her. She weaved her way through the workers, waving to some she recognized, nodding happily to anyone who chanced to look her way.

  She was surprised to see Alex in his shirtsleeves, lashed to the mast of one of the new ships, hammering down a bracing on the rigging. She did not shout up at him, afraid he might lose his concentration. She watched him as he worked, the muscles in his back and his powerful arm flexing with each stroke of the hammer, and felt a familiar, sharp longing snake through her. “Damn you, Alex Saxton.”

  The bracing secured, Alex raised a hand to brush away the sweat stinging his eyes. He was untying the leather straps that held him safely against the mast when he chanced to look down. He saw Giana standing below him, her cloak billowing around her, her head up, looking at him.

  Her name formed in his throat and emerged as a curse. How many times had he told her she wasn’t to come here without an escort? It wasn’t just the unsavory derelicts who made their home about the fringes of the shipyard, it was simply no place for a woman alone, seven months pregnant. He quickly shimmied down the mast, made his way carefully over the raw planks of the deck, and climbed down the ladder.

  He saw her running clumsily toward him, waving a piece of paper in her hand.

  “Alex.”

  He heard a sudden creaking sound and the rending of wood. He looked up and saw the mainmast weaving in the wind under the heavy rigging. Slowly the mast teetered and split halfway up its mighty stalk. Then, wrapped in its white shroud of sail, it crashed downward.

  “Giana.�
� He watched helplessly as Giana and the men ran from beneath the falling mast. Then it was over. The mast lay near where Giana had stood, one of his men trapped beneath it.

  “Stay clear,” he heard Jake Ransom shouting. He stared at Ali Lucino as Jake and several of his men pulled him from beneath the mast.

  “It’s his leg, Mr. Saxton,” Jake shouted. “He’s all right.”

  Alex rushed to Giana, so relieved that for a moment he could think of nothing to say. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to dispel the image of Giana lying beneath that mast, the life crushed out of her.

  “You’re all right?” he said at last, his hands automatically traveling over her body. “The baby?”

  “I’m all right,” she said. She gazed over to where Ali was propped up against a tub of tar, holding his broken leg. “That mast broke,” she said. “You could have been hurt.”

  “I?” He threw back his head and laughed hoarsely “I?”

  Suddenly his laughter died, and his eyes became nearly black. She winced at his tight grip on her arms. “What,” he said very deliberately, “are you doing here?”

  “I came to tell you the news.”

  But he didn’t hear her. “I told you never, never to come here without an escort, preferably me. Must you always be so pigheaded?”

  He was jerked out of his whirlpool rage by Jake Ransom.

  “Sir, is Mrs. Saxton all right?”

  “Yes, Jake, she is. See that Ali gets to the doctor. The rest of you—clean up the mess and get back to work.”

  “You’re hurting me, Alex,” Giana said, trying to pull her bruised arm free of his grip.

  Alex felt his rage at her mount. It was born of his fear for her, but he would not admit to it. He saw only that once again she had blithely disobeyed him and put her life in danger. His grip tightened. “I’m taking you home. And believe me, madam, you will stay there.”

  Giana fell into sullen silence as he pulled her along, barely slowing his stride, not understanding his sudden anger. Once inside a cab, she said with asperity, “For heaven’s sake, Alex, you don’t need to see me home. I am quite all right. And I don’t want to go home. I have some news for you.”

  “Shut up.”

  “How dare you say that to me.”

  He turned away from her and stared straight ahead, ignoring her. When the cab pulled up at home, Alex jumped out, paid the driver, and turned on his heel, leaving Giana staring after him from inside the cab. She wanted to curse him, but the cabbie was staring at her, more than interested. She bit her tongue and stomped into the house after him.

  Herbert was a different matter. But before she could say anything, Alex whirled on her and barked, “Keep quiet, Giana. Herbert, Mrs. Saxton and I will be in the library. See that we’re not disturbed.”

  He shoved her into the library and slammed the doors closed behind him. His face was white with anger when he turned to face her. “No, don’t begin on me, Giana,” he said, his voice deadly calm. “You are in the wrong. Would you have had to take Ali’s place under that mast to see it? I have told you countless times not to come to the shipyard without me. But you never listen to a word anyone has to say, do you? I am tired, Giana, of your indifference, your stubbornness.”

  “I didn’t mean to be, Alex,” she began. “It, that is, I was excited, and wanted to see you.”

  “See me? That’s a laugh. You wanted to prove to me that Miss Georgiana Van Cleve does whatever she pleases.” He stared at her whitened face, and his voice was suddenly tired. “I’ve just been too stubborn to see that you’ll never change.”

  She stood rigid, too hurt to speak, and her silence only further enraged him.

  “Well?” he said. “Have you nothing to say, madam? Don’t you even want to remind me how much you hate me? What a crass brute I am? An American savage?”

  “I don’t hate you,” she whispered.

  “Oh, and sure you don’t now?” he said, drawling in a thick Irish brogue. “Why? Because you still haven’t satisfied your lust for me? And such lust you have for such a blue-blooded little English lady. Take your lust, Miss Van Cleve, and choke on it.”

  “It isn’t lust,” she said. He looked at her as if he hated her. She felt tears swim in her eyes.

  “A woman’s ultimate weapon? I know you too well to be taken in. What’s the matter, Giana? Lost your glib little tongue?”

  “Alex, you don’t understand,” she said, desperate now. “You must listen to me.”

  “Listen to you? If I listen to you anymore, I’ll go insane. I don’t want your damned trust. The only thing I want from you is my child.”

  “You cannot mean that. Please, Alex, don’t do this to me, to us.”

  He looked at her, then only threw his head back and laughed, laughed until his powerful shoulders were shaking.

  Something broke inside of her. She heard herself scream at him, “You are the fool, Alex. You are a stupid, blind beast. I hate you, do you hear? I hate you.”

  “Your conversation is boring, my love.” He said at her over his shoulder. “I’ve heard it all before, remember?”

  She stood alone in the middle of the library, the letter from Cyrus McCormick still clutched in her hand. She stared blindly down at it, all her joy, her excitement, turned to cold ashes. There was no one to reassure her, no one to tell her that she had done nothing to make her husband turn so completely against her. She had nothing but her pride. She gathered it about herself like a patchwork cloak and walked slowly upstairs.

  Chapter 26

  Giana lay watching the dark winter clouds drift by outside her window. Evening was falling, and when the sun rose again, she would board the liner Star Flight, bound for Portsmouth. She felt tears sting her eyes, and angrily brushed them away. Stupid woman. Stupid, weak woman.

  She supposed it was the light that woke her, pulling her from a numbed sleep. She slowly opened her eyes and saw Alex sitting in a chair by her bed. He was looking at her, his face impassive, his long fingers forming a steeple under his chin.

  She said, “How did you get in here?”

  “You are awake. I thought the lamp might do the trick.” The long fingers began to tap. “I bribed the hotel manager.”

  “I see,” she said wearily. A mass of loose hair was falling over her cheek and she raised her hand to shove it back. “How did you know where I was?”

  “Herbert was very upset when you left. He followed you here to the Astor.”

  “Very enterprising,” she said. She felt too tired and too empty to protest. “What are you doing here, Alex? I left you a note. There was no reason for you to come.”

  “I have come to take you back home, of course. As for your note, it’s been a long time since I’ve been treated to such drivel.”

  Giana pulled the cover over her shoulders. “It was not drivel,” she said dully.

  “Would you like to sit up?”

  She ignored him and slowly pulled herself up on the bed.

  “I ordered dinner for us here. I trust you have some appetite.”

  She didn’t reply, merely stared straight ahead at a painting of the New York countryside on the opposite wall. A very bad painting, she thought, the sun suspended in the sky like a large orange platter.

  “You are not such a coward, Giana,” he said deliberately. “You could have had one of my guns loaded and ready to use on me when I returned home.”

  She turned her head to face him. “Why?” she asked blankly.

  She looked so wan, so damned withdrawn. “Do you feel all right?” he said, sitting forward in his chair. To his surprise, she flinched away from him.

  “Of course,” she said. “I will feel even better on the morrow.”

  “Ah yes. It is your intention to run away? To return to England, and weather the storm?”

  “No. I will go to Cornwall. I do not want my mother or the duke hurt by any scandal.”

  “Very thoughtful of you. And what about me, Giana?”

  “You?” She looked f
aintly surprised, one elegant brow arched upward. “You made your wishes perfectly clear, Alex. You cannot bear the sight of me. I am but obliging you.”

  “I didn’t want this, dammit, and you know it.” He rose abruptly from his chair and stood over her. “I have had a perfectly hellish day, and I return home to find that my wife has packed up and walked out on me. Another example of your thoughtlessness. I won’t abide any more of it, Giana. After dinner, we are going home.”

  Giana’s fingers curled about the bedcovers as she fought to control her anger at him. She had hoped to ignore him, but instead, she yelled, “I am not your wife, and you can go to hell.”

  To her surprise, he smiled. “That’s better. I wondered how long you could play your spiritless-old-horse act. Come now, tell me what you think of me.”

  “Stop it. Damn you, Alex Saxton, just stop it.”

  He sat down beside her, and she wasn’t fast enough to move away from him. She felt his fingers gently pushing the hair from her forehead and close about her face. He leaned down and lightly kissed the tip of her nose. She tried to struggle free of him, but he merely stretched out beside her, and held her firmly against him.

  “Let me go.” She brought her arms up to push at his shoulders. “I know exactly what you think of me, Alex. I don’t know what game you’re playing now, but I refuse to be a part of it.”

  He pressed his face into her hair. “I have never been so frightened in my life.”

  She stopped struggling. “You, frightened?’

  His fingertips roved lightly over her face and sketched the line of her brow. “You could have been killed,” he said simply. “All I could see was you lying beneath that mast. You and the child, both dead.” He drew a deep breath. “I could not have borne that, Giana.”

  She stared up at him warily. “I am not demented, Alex. You weren’t frightened, you were furious. And you said awful things to me.”

  “Yes, I know. But you also know that I am not a particularly even-tempered man. In fact, I, just like you, spout the stupidest things when roused.”

  “Now you accuse me, when it is you who are to blame.”

  “We are both to blame. In this instance, perhaps it was I who was the more outrageous. Will you forgive me?”