Shadows Wait

by Denise A. Agnew

  Morgan shook inside with anger. “My father should have dismissed Mrs. Angel. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

  She sighed. “Me, too. But it’s long ago. I don’t think much about it anymore.”

  Because she seemed content not to talk about it, he didn’t ask more questions about it. He also feared what they’d done. She needed to know what he was thinking. He kissed her forehead and rolled to the side with her in his arms. As he caressed her hair, he said, “We cannot do this again, Lilly.”

  “What?” That one word was filled with unhappiness—an unhappiness he feared would only grow.

  “We cannot make love again. I’m sorry that this ever happened.”

  Silence dropped down between them. She shifted from his arms and sat up. She stared at him as if he’d grown a second head. “Are you saying we shouldn’t have made love?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you were a virgin. I took that from you.”

  She made a soft growling sound in her throat that reminded him of a cat ready to pounce. “Morgan Healy, do not be an idiot.”

  Shock toppled his straight face. He frowned. “Idiot? Yes, I was an idiot for allowing this to happen. I take full responsibility for removing your innocence. You should have kept it for your husband and your wedding night. Now you could have difficulties if a suitor finds out—”

  “Stop.” She held up one hand. She left the bed, rearranged her clothes, and crossed her arms.

  She looked, in a word, mad as hell. “I do not accept that.”

  “What?”

  “I am a grown woman of twenty, Mr. Man-of-the-World. You may think I’m some witless female who doesn’t know which is east or west or what horizon the sun rises above in the morning. But I knew far more about the joining of man and woman than most women my age.” She didn’t allow him to speak, apparently intent on getting her point across. “I’ve read about this position we just did ... before.”

  His eyes widened, and he wondered if he looked like the innocent, befuddled one now. “Where did you read about this?”

  “In the library at the asylum. Someone snuck in a medical book that describes the details. Someone also snuck in a copy of the very decadent and sinful Kama Sutra from India. I read that as well.”

  “Oh, my God.”

  Her frown went deeper. “Are you terribly disappointed in me?”

  He laughed. And laughed and laughed. She picked up a pillow and threw it at him. It walloped him in the nose and yet he wouldn’t stop chuckling. Jesus, but he needed to get a hold of himself. “I’m sorry, Lilly. I wasn’t laughing at you.” He laughed again. “All right. I was. But not to insult. I should have guessed from some of the things you did that you weren’t as innocent as I imagined. But you’d never been with a man before last night. I was afraid of hurting you.” He sobered as his real objections returned to his mind. “I’ve ruined you.”

  She sank down on the edge of the bed, but he didn’t see despair or concern in her eyes. “Are you certain it isn’t I who have ruined you?”

  Chapter 22

  Lilly watched Morgan’s eyes widen yet again, but surprise didn’t last long in the face of humor. He laughed harder this time, flopping back on the bed and clutching his stomach as he rocked from one side to the other. She wanted to smack him one with the pillow again. Yet as his amusement continued, it caught her up and tossed her around the same way. She echoed his laughs until she lay on the bed next to him and screamed out her joy. It was almost ... almost as much ecstasy as the wild physical reaction she’d experienced in climax. Climax. Such a strange and utterly appropriate word for what had happened to her. After the first one, when he’d pumped and stroked, she had believed it couldn’t happen again. Surely a beautiful delicious feeling like this couldn’t occur more than once. He’d proven her assumption wrong. Now laughter replaced physical sensation, and it cleansed her. Had she ever felt this light before?

  “I’m sorry,” he managed to gasp. “I shouldn’t laugh. You’re one hundred percent right.”

  Surprise halted her last chuckle. She sat up and stared at him. “What?”

  “You’re right. I didn’t know that you’d read about sex so extensively.”

  She sighed and propped herself on one elbow so she could see his face. “Extensively isn’t accurate. I’ve read something about mating. What I read in the Kama Sutra.”

  “That’s quite a bit.”

  “Hmm.” She smiled. “You don’t think I ruined you?”

  “How could you?” He stared at the ceiling.

  “By making it difficult for you to remember any other woman.”

  He laughed, and they started again. She was bursting with a joy that came straight from the heart and gut.

  Finally he sobered, and she saw his objections had returned. “Later on, if you wished to marry, a man could annul the wedding if he knew you weren’t a virgin.”

  “I don’t have a religion. Do you?”

  He shook his head. “I’m no more religious than you are. At least not in the church-going, traditional sense.”

  “What is your religion?”

  “Being out on the land. In the woods. Enjoying what nature has to offer. The forest is my cathedral.” He turned his gaze to her. “And my work. My work is my religion.”

  “Taking care of patients?”

  “Yes.”

  “Admirable. Do no harm?” She smiled as recognition and a strange peace gathered around her. “I feel the same way. The pine forests work as a church for me, too, but I’m not certain what my work is supposed to be.” She glanced at him. “Don’t dare say its wife and mother. I don’t see either of those happening.”

  He frowned. “I think you would make someone an excellent wife and any children an exceptional mother.”

  Her heart couldn’t stand this. How dare he make statements that gave her hope where she should have none? “Thank you. I’ll let you have your illusions.”

  For a moment she saw hurt in his eyes; at least it resembled hurt, or perhaps disappointment. Guilt bit deep. What was she thinking? Had she wanted him to offer for her hand? Had she allowed an inkling of ridiculous hope to rise within? She sighed and pushed away her own misconceptions.

  “Daylight is here. We had better return before they send a search party,” she said.

  “Are you certain they would with all this snow?” He rose from the bed and pushed aside the curtain over the small window.

  “I think they’ll search for you.”

  “You’ve become very cynical in the short time I’ve known you, Lilly.”

  She shook her head. “I’ve always been this way. It’s just that I trust you enough to show it.”

  “All of it?” His voice held a whisper, a tenderness that made her leave the bed and go to the window to stand by him. “I think there’s quite a bit more I could discover about you.”

  A tiny part of her thrilled to the knowledge that he wanted to and another part feared it. She reached for her undergarment, dragging it up her legs quickly. She found her stockings and after she’d put on her boots and laced them, she saw that he’d put on his boots as well.

  “Let’s hurry.” She reached for her coat and quickly shrugged into it. “We don’t want them to find us here in a state of undress do we?”

  “Lilly.” His face was grim. “It doesn’t matter, does it? They’re going to know that I stayed with you in this cabin. All of them are going to know.”

  She couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of that. Fear rose inside her. She swallowed hard. “What are we going to do about that?”

  “My father will tell me I can’t marry you. And he’s right.”

  Hurt rose inside even though she’d been determined to treat their liaison with dispassion. “Of course not.”

  He cupped her shoulders. “Not for the reason you might think.”

  “Your father will find it unseemly. Everyone would. You would be chastised by your entire family and a
ll associated with you. You need to marry someone like Marjorie. Not a woman everyone suspects is insane.”

  “Everyone doesn’t think that.”

  His assurances meant something, if only that he didn’t think her a lunatic. “You’re a very kind man, Morgan Healy.”

  He pulled her close, and the heat and hardness of his body also reassured her on a most primitive level. “Call me Morgan again. No more formality. For God’s sake we’ve been as intimate as two people can be.”

  She smiled, elated with a singular and delighted notion. If she never had this again, at least she would possess it in her memories. “Morgan. You are Morgan forever now.”

  With a soft laugh, he drew her into a kiss. Loud knocking on the door made Lilly jump, and they broke apart. Morgan released her and headed for the door. Apprehension brought her close on his heels.

  “Morgan, be careful.”

  He lifted a handgun from his coat and kept it alongside. Morgan didn’t look like a doctor, but a soldier ready for battle. Morgan opened the door slowly, and it creaked with a long, drawn out scream she hadn’t noticed when she’d first arrived at the cabin the day before.

  “Sheriff Tanner. Deputy Holsten.” Morgan said their names quietly.

  Lilly hadn’t met either man, so the sight of them intimidated. Both were brawny, wore cowboy hats and thick winter coats, and watched her and Morgan with singular suspicion.

  The men tipped their hats at Morgan and she nodded in their direction. “Gentlemen.”

  “I see you’re right where we thought you would be.” The sheriff said. He was taller than his deputy and a couple of decades older—perhaps fifty. He shoved his hat back on his head. His snowy white hair stuck out around the hat, and his narrow, lined face went well with his thin body. “Morgan, your father asked us to come looking for you. He feared foul play.”

  Morgan’s lips twitched, as if he stifled a strong reaction. “We found the foul play. Lilly located Nurse Franklin and the storm forced her into the cabin.”

  The deputy had a dubious expression, as if he didn’t trust Lilly. With his sharp, pinched face and cold blue eyes, the deputy pinned her with his stare. To his credit, the man didn’t comment. She assessed his thin body, rangy but strong looking. He was only a couple of inches taller than she.

  Awkward silence stretched as the sheriff glanced passed Morgan and around the cabin. “Glad to see you’re both safe. You found Nurse Franklin? Where is she?”

  Morgan nodded toward the mound not far from the cabin. “I’ll show you.”

  Lilly moved closer to the door, despite the dubious looks the sheriff and his deputy sent her way. The sheriff nodded, and after grabbing their coats, Morgan and Lilly led the men to the mound where Oleta lay. Lilly looked away while the men dug in the snow.

  “Jesus,” the deputy said, his voice disgusted. “Poor woman.”

  She hadn’t expected the man’s sympathetic reaction, and decided maybe she’d misjudged the cold assessment he’d given her.

  “Someone strangled her, I think,” Lilly said, her voice soft.

  “How do you know?” The sheriff asked with suspicion hard in his voice.

  Morgan moved closer to her. “It’s obvious. You’ll see.”

  “I asked her.” The sheriff’s voice was quiet but insistent.

  Lilly placed her hand on Morgan’s sleeve. “It’s all right. I saw the bruises on Oleta’s neck and assumed strangulation.”

  “Could have been a rope or something,” the deputy said.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know how it was done, just that it was done.”

  The men went silent.

  “Let’s get to this.” The sheriff nodded to his deputy. “In the meantime, my deputy will take Miss Luna into Simple for questioning.”

  “What?” Lilly asked at the same time as Morgan.

  “Miss Luna found the body. She’ll be questioned just like anyone else,” Sheriff Tanner said.

  Morgan’s face hardened to stone. “Hell, no. She isn’t going anywhere. You can question her here.”

  Sheriff Tanner’s smile held cruel intent. “Your father told me some things about this young lady that make me want to ask questions in a controlled environment.”

  Fear settled into her stomach. Morgan shifted closer to her again, his expression tight. “What did my father say about her?”

  “That’s not for me to discuss with you, Mr. Healy. She has nothing to fear as long as she comes downtown and talks with us. She can clear this all up.”

  “All what?” Lilly asked.

  Sheriff Tanner’s expression changed to cool indifference. “That’s not for me to say now. We’ll talk when we get to Simple.”

  Lilly tried to maintain composure, determined she wouldn’t allow the sheriff or his deputy to see her discomfort. “Of course I can come to the sheriff’s office. I’ve got nothing to hide.”

  “I need to speak with Lilly alone a few minutes,” Morgan said.

  The sheriff agreed, and Morgan closed the cabin door. He turned to her. Morgan’s solid presence warmed her heart. Her strength increased. Whatever came from this point forward, she would have to face it on her own. “Lilly—”

  “It’s all right Morgan. I can take care of this myself.” He sighed, but she saw frustration and apprehension in his eyes. He drew her into his arms and held her tightly. She buried her head in his shoulder. “I’ll be fine.”

  “I’ll worry about you. But I know you’re strong.” He drew back and cupped her face, his eyes blazing with concern. “Do not allow the sheriff to browbeat you.”

  His fierceness made her smile, despite the trembling that built inside her. She palmed his face, felt the stubble on his chin and strong jaw. “You’re a good man, Morgan Healy.” She ignored the sick feeling that burned steadily inside her. She didn’t want to ask this question, but she did anyway. “Do you think your father asked the sheriff to come here because he wants to accuse me of hurting Oleta?”

  Morgan’s mouth tightened. “No. I don’t believe father would do that.”

  Something sank within her. “I think he would.” She shook her head. “Never mind. I will see you soon.”

  “I’ll come down to the jail as quickly as I can after I speak with my father.”

  * * *

  As Lilly stepped out of the paddy wagon, her mind ran in circles. Her calm nature wouldn't override the fear. She'd expected to ride by horse or other contraption into Simple and when she found herself sequestered in the cumbersome wagon the sheriff had brought to the asylum, she knew trouble was afoot. Morgan's face had filled with anger when he'd seen the wagon, but he’d obviously realized that resistance wouldn’t help. Their gazes had clashed, held for a long moment, and she’d received warmth and reassurance in the intense look he’d given her. Several nurses and even a patient that could be trusted to come outside had witnessed her being loaded into the wagon. All of them had appeared singularly horrified or curious or both.

  All the way down the pass, in the freezing wagon, she’d huddled into her coat and wished she were back in the warm bed with Morgan. She’d closed her eyes and turned her thoughts to those lovely, revelatory moments when their bodies had come together in perfect harmony. Thoughts like these had sustained her for the ride, and kept her from dwelling too much on whatever the sheriff had planned for her.

  Now, as she glanced upward at the two story stone building, a sickening wave came over her, and she almost clenched her belly in discomfort. It wasn’t fear that tried to defeat her; she recognized her own fear and this wasn’t it. No, she’d felt a similar reaction to Patricia’s bedroom—recognition of evil. Evil once thrived in this place, and perhaps it still resided here. The gray stone building seemed to loom over the main street, in its own way as imposing as the asylum and the Healy mansion. Even the clank and clatter of wagons going by, the noise of one motorcar, and the clop of horse’s hooves shrank under this structure. People walked by on the sidewalk in front of the wagon, most staring at her as if sh
e were a filthy bit they’d scraped off their shoe. They judged her without knowing anything about her.

  She glanced up at the lentil and noted the most disturbing thing of all carved into the stone: Eighteen eighty-eight. She gasped.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Deputy Holsten asked.

  “This building was erected in eighteen eighty-eight?”

  “Yeah.” His glance said plenty without words. He thought she was an idiot. “What about it?”

  She shook her head. “The same year as the asylum.”

  “Yeah?” He shrugged and threw a perturbed glance her way before taking her arm and leading her up the ten steps to the huge double wood doors. Resistance ran through her veins as the poisonous feelings rose inside Lilly. She didn’t want to be here. She recoiled as they went through the doors. Not because this place was ugly. Far from it. Sumptuous mahogany chairs sat in a waiting area that was small. It had no windows so it required candlelight at all times. Black sconces on two walls held an obnoxious number of white candles. Wax scent clogged the air. One door to the right was closed.

  Lilly didn’t have time to visually take note of every detail, but emotionally it hit her in the stomach. This place, built the same year as Tranquil View, held an unbelievable evil. She shivered as a chandelier above her head tinkled in a breeze.

  “Pay no mind to that,” the deputy said. “It’s a drafty place.”

  Indeed it might have been, but she’d felt no hint of air movement. Ahead, a wide, marble staircase led upstairs. Unusual murals graced the walls along the stairs, the creatures within the paintings seeming to lead one toward a heaven above, or perhaps a hell. They drew the eyes to a mix of devils, angels, and diabolical beasts. This is a sheriff’s department?

  Deputy Holsten paused in the expansive foyer. “Every prisoner comes in here and does the same. Stares at this weird place. No doubting that.”

  “Is it also a jail?”

  “Courthouse upstairs. Basement holds the main jail.”