Sweet Words of Love

by Betty Brooks

  Would Robert be as gentle, as caring of her feelings as Thorne always was? He'd have to be, she decided, if he was going to marry her. She decided right then and there-with Thorne's body pressed so close to hers-that she wouldn't take less than someone like Thorne...or Thorne himself.

  She looked at Thorne with new eyes then. The woman he chose would indeed be a lucky one. Rainey suddenly wished that woman could be herself. But he was so far above her that he'd never look at her that way... would he?

  Rainey lifted her eyes and studied him closely, and realized there were new lines in his face, lines that hadn't been there when they'd first arrived in St. Louis. Why hadn't she noticed them before? Suddenly Rainey felt ashamed. She was so selfish. She hadn't once thought about what he must be going through, living so close to the man who'd treated him so badly.

  "Thorne . . . I'm sorry. I've been selfish, thinkin' only of myself. I never noticed you were so bothered. What's makin' you feel so bad?"

  Thorne couldn't find a way to answer her. He didn't want to trouble her with his own particular demons. It was enough that he must bear them himself. He thought about how it would be to have her always beside him and knew that it would be heaven on earth. Rainey was a caring woman who would never think of holding back any emotion that she felt. She would love and laugh as easily as she burst out in anger. And she wasn't one to hold a grudge, either quite unlike himself.

  He pretended nothing was wrong and smiled down at her. "I was just wondering if you'd like to practice kissing again," he prevaricated. "I certainly like teaching you."

  "Kissing weren’t . . . wasn't any part of your thoughts," she said shortly. "Something's going on here that you're not talking about. You're hurting and not wanting me to know. But I'm gonna know, Thorne Las­ siter! Even if I have to nag it outta . . . out of Eloise. Now you tell me what's worryin' you!"

  He sighed and sat down in a stuffed chair, pulled her onto his lap and tucked her head against his shoulder. He trailed one finger along her shoulder blade, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Her breast firmed, and began to tingle with desire.

  "My father has himself in some kind of mess," he said gruffly, seeming not to notice how she was reacting to his touch. "I wouldn't worry about it if he were the only one who would suffer the consequences. But he's not. Eloise is in danger of losing her inheritance and I can't just go away and forget about it."

  “No,” she said softly. "You couldn't, Thorne. You care too much about her, even if you don't care about your pa. An’ I ain’t so sure you don't care about him, too, but you just won't admit to the feeling."

  "I care nothing for him," he said shortly. "But I do care about my sister and her future."

  "Then what're you going to do about her troubles?" "Solve them if I can.”

  She grinned up with twinkling eyes. "Then what're we waiting for?"

  "You are not to get involved in this," he said grimly. "There is no way of knowing how far these people will go to get what they want, and if things go bad I don’t want you around."

  "How am I going to keep out of all this danger if I don't have no notion what the whole thing's about?" she complained.

  "I suppose you're right." He settled her more firmly on his lap, a fact that pleased her no end; she liked being snuggled so close against him. "Well, it appears my father is paying hush money to some blackguard. Has been doing so for several years."

  "Hush money?" she questioned. "What's that?" "He's being forced to pay for someone's silence

  about his past indiscretions," he explained. "But now the scoundrel wants even more. He wants the shipping lines itself."

  "That's the way of varmints like that."

  He cocked a dark eyebrow. " How do you know about such things?"

  "I know plenty. We got folks like that in the Ozarks, too. Not many, but some. They was a time before you come, that the Widder Simmons was squeezed outta ever'thing she owned." Rainey barely noticed she had dropped back into her old speech patterns. "First he took her plowin' mule, then he come back a few days later and wanted the milk cow. And the more she give him, the bolder he got. Finally he wanted to put her outta her home. But she balked at that. Decided if she was gonna lose her home, then she might as well sell it and move on. She went to the sheriff and he took Smoky Callahan to jail, and ever'body in the county went to the trial to find out what it was the widder was tryin' to hide."

  "And did you go, Rainey?"

  "'Course not!" she snapped. "I mind my own business and xpect others to do the same."

  "Well, Father imagines the people of St. Louis will do like most of those folks in the Ozarks. He believes if his secret is revealed his reputation will suffer so badly that the shipping lines will go under. And, strange as it may seem, Rainey, his reputation probably means more to him than the shipping lines do."

  "So he's just gonna turn his business over to the lowlifes?"

  "Apparently so," he replied. “If they persist in their demands.''

  "Well hellsfire, Thorne. He ain't got much guts. Or else that thing you was talkin’ about-that indiscretion thing-was a lynching thing." She looked curiously at him. "Is that it? Do you think he killed somebody a long time ago?"

  "No. I don't know the circumstances. He refuses to tell me. But he claims he took no man's life. All he will

  say, is that the incident happened more than twenty years ago, said he'd thought it was over, that nobody would ever know." He sighed deeply. “It seems his past has finally caught up with him."

  "I feel kinda sorry for him," she murmured.

  "I don't see how you could do that after the things he said to you." His voice was gruff, angry. " He ordered you out of his house, Rainey, threatened to have you thrown in jail."

  "I don't hold no grudge against him, Thorne," she said. "He's your pa."

  "That was merely an accident of birth," he said bitterly.

  They both fell silent then, and after a moment Thorne resumed his soothing movements, stroking his palm down her hair, and she shivered beneath his touch. "I like that," she said softly.

  ''What?"

  "You touching me thata way."

  His lips curled in a slight smile. "You give me strength, Rainey."

  "How do I do that?" 'Just by being here."

  His hand moved down her back and he shifted her closer against him. She liked the feel of his hard, mus­ cled chest against her taut breasts and wished the fabric of their clothing wasn't between them. Immediately she was shocked at the thought. He tilted her face toward him and bent closer, his gaze locked on hers. "Don't you think we should resume the lessons, Rainey?"

  "Oh, yes, I can't think of anything that I'd rather do right now," she said, opening her mouth to make it ready for his.

  His mouth was lowering to hers when a knock sounded on the door.

  Eleven

  With a muttered oath, Thorne set her on her feet and crossed to the door. He jerked it open and stared with consternation at his sister. ''Eloise!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

  Eloise looked flushed, as though she'd run a long distance. "It's Father, Thorne. He wants to see you."

  Thorne uttered a sharp oath. "He can just go to blue blazes, Eloise. I have no intention of running when he calls. He can damned well wait until tomorrow."

  "Please, Thorne." She twisted her hands in agitation. "We've been talking together most of the afternoon and he's ready to explain the past . . . what that blackguard is holding over his head."

  "He told you that?" he asked darkly. “If he’s so ready to disclose his secrets, then why didn't he tell you?"

  "I don't know. But I think it's because whatever it is, he believes to be too delicate for my ears." Her lips twisted wryly. "I believe he's on the verge of giving up the shipping lines, Thorne, just to keep his past hidden. You must come!"

  "Damnation!" Thorne snarled. "It seems he's leaving me no choice except to go."

  Rainey spoke up then. "You never had another choice, Thorne. You know tha
t. It's just not in your na­ ture to turn aside when there's trouble." "It seems you know me well, don't you, kitten," he said tenderly.

  "I reckon so."

  He turned his attention to his sister again. "Do you want to keep Rainey company while I'm gone, Eloise, or will you be coming home with me?"

  ''I'd rather stay here," she said quickly. She looked at Rainey. “If you don't mind." Without waiting for a reply, she turned to Thorne again. "Please don't say anything that will stop Father from explaining. We must know what they're holding over him before we can put a stop to their efforts. I don't intend to lose my inheritance without a fight."

  "I promise I won't lose my temper." It was a promise he was unable to keep after hearing what his father had to say. The elder Lassiter told the story of a young man who had an affair with a Cajun woman, believing he was doing harm to nobody, even though he was married. After all, he reasoned, New Orleans was a long way from St. Louis, and his family need never know of his indiscretions. But a child had come of the union . . . a girl who was now a young woman. She had sent her cousin to St. Louis to claim, not only her own inheritance, but everything Eugene Lassiter owned. His wealth, his business, and the shipping lines.

  Thorne looked with revulsion on his father as he tried to deal with what he'd been told. "So I have another sister," he said slowly.

  "Not a sister!" the elder Lassiter spat. "Didn't you hear a word of what I'm saying, boy? She's half Cajun! She's white trash! Nothing to be bothered with."

  A wry smile crossed Thorne's face. "Perhaps that's the reason behind all this, Father. Maybe she's tired of

  being ignored and is determined to create enough impact to be noticed."

  Eugene Lassiter's eyes were stormy. "The gal is greedy. What are we going to do about all this?" "What we are not going to do is hand over Eloise's portion of the shipping lines," Thorne said grimly. He strode across the room and looked out the window, his hands stuck in his trouser pockets, his mind worrying at the problem. Finally he looked back at his father, his gaze was razor-sharp. "There's really only one solu­ tion," he said. "The girl is your daughter and she's due a portion of the estate. Sign that part over to her. It's her right. Give her her inheritance now."

  "Give it to her! Her inheritance. Why, dammit, boy, she has no inheritance! Didn't you hear me say she's a Cajun? What do you think people would say if they knew? Dammit! We have to keep this quiet. The Lassiter reputation is at stake."

  "The Lassiter reputation? You're a fool, old man," Thorne said coldly. "You're so damned bigoted that you'd deny your own flesh and blood. But then, I should have expected you'd react this way. You've looked down on me for the Irish blood that flows through my veins since the day I was born." He watched the old man look away. " What about her mother?" Thorne asked. "The Cajun wench you consorted with. What does she say about all this?"

  "She died a long time ago, Thorne. But she would have had no part in such underhanded dealings." There was certainty in Eugene Lassiter's voice.

  "Did you love her?''

  "Love a Cajun? God, no. How could you believe such a thing, Thorne? I loved your mother. But, Grace . . . she was the most beautiful woman I'd ever met. Black hair and dark eyes. I was captivated from the first moment I laid eyes on her."

  Thorne's fury surged forth, almost overwhelming him. "You bastard. Did my mother know? Is that what killed her? The knowledge of your illicit affair?"

  "Her death wasn't my fault!'' His father was shocked. "Your mother died of a lung ailment."

  "I heard different," Thorne said. "I heard she died of a broken heart."

  "Then you heard wrong. It was a lung ailment that took her."

  Thorne was silent for a long moment. "Did she know about her, the woman you were involved with?"

  "Yes." Eugene Lassiter sighed heavily. "She found out. And confronted me with it. I promised her I would never see Grace again."

  "Did you keep your word?"

  "I couldn't," Eugene whispered. "I tried so hard to stay away from her, but I couldn't get her out of my mind. Grace was so beautiful, so gentle, that she became an obsession. I traveled a lot on business then, spent a lot of time in New Orleans. And she was there . . . so close that-" He broke off, as though suddenly remembering to whom he was talking. When he spoke again, his voice was cold. "This is all the fault of that girl. She's no good. Not like her mother. Grace was so like her name. Beautiful of face and of heart. There wasn't an ounce of meanness in her body. She would never deliberately cause anyone hurt."

  "Like you did?"

  "Dammit, Thorne! Can't you leave our relationship out of this? It has nothing to do with this business. I only revealed the past to you because I thought you might be able to do something to stop her so the shipping lines would stay in the family. Maybe the girl would listen to reason if you talked to her."

  “Why do you think I can get anywhere with her if you haven't been able to?"

  "Because you always know the right thing to say," his father replied. "Except when you're talking to me. Besides, I haven’t spoken with the girl."

  "Then who have you spoken to?"

  "A man who claims to be her cousin."

  "Claims to be?"

  "I suppose he is her cousin."

  "Are you sure Grace had a daughter?" Thorne asked. "And that you sired her?"

  “Yes. I had the records checked. She was Grace's daughter and Grace was a virgin before we met." His expression became hurt. "I don't know why she didn't send word about her pregnancy. I would have provided for the child."

  "Perhaps Grace thought you'd done enough by siring the child."

  "Don't be cruel, Thorne."

  "Why not? I learned it from a master."

  Eugene Lassiter's eyes slid away from those of his son. "You're not going to make any attempt to help in this matter, are you?"

  "I'll do whatever I can," Thorne replied. "Not because of you, though. My sister, Eloise, is my only concern." His expression was cold as he met his father’s gaze. "Where do I find this elusive sister of mine?"

  "I don't really know," Eugene Lassiter said. "I suppose you'll find her where I found Grace. In the bayous of Louisiana."

  "And her name?"

  "Eulalie," he said softly. "Eulalie Grace Lassiter."

  "She uses the family name?"

  "Yes. But without any right."

  "She should have had the right, Father. No child should be denied its father's name."

  "She's a bastard, Thorne. And a Cajun. I would never give my name to a child like that. Why, I'd be the laughing stock of St. Louis."

  Thorne turned away in disgust. Although his father obviously held tender feelings for Grace, he had none to spare for her child . . . his own flesh and blood. When Thorne returned to the hotel, Rainey knew by his expression that things had not gone well between the Lassiter men.

  Eloise, who had been waiting anxiously for his return, hurried toward her brother. "Did he tell you what it was all about, Thorne?" she asked.

  "Yes. He told me," Thorne replied shortly. "It seems, dear sister, that you are not my only sister."

  “He told you that?"

  Thorne nodded grimly. "It appears our father sired two girls, Eloise. The other one's been kept secret for the last twenty years. Her name is Eulalie."

  "But Mother-"

  "Didn't have a thing to do with her, Ellie," he interrupted. "She is the offspring of our father's alliance with another woman."

  "Someone we know?"

  "No. He met her in New Orleans."

  "Oh, God!" She sank onto a chair. "How could he do that?" she cried.

  Thorne squatted on his heels before her and took her hand in his. "Don't let it concern you, Ellie," he said. "I'm going to see her . . . talk to her, try to straighten things out. Father says it would ruin his good name if her identity was discovered . . . because of her bad blood."

  "She's Irish?"

  Thorne laughed loudly. "No. Her mother was a Cajun. But her blood, of course, must be
bad, since it didn't come from the Lassiter line. He called her trash. I've often thought it was too bad he couldn't duplicate himself and come up with a female that he could mate with. It's the only damn way he'll ever find anyone he considers pure enough for himself."

  "Horse feathers!" Rainey spat. "What's wrong with the man anyway? Seems to me he oughtta be down on his knees thankin' the good Lord for giving him another child to love."

  "Father?" Thorne's eyebrows lifted. "Why should he love Eulalie when he doesn't love us . . . the children he raised?"

  "Eulalie," Eloise said softly. "I have a sister." She smiled at Thorne. "When can we meet her? Where has he been hiding her all this time?"

  "He hasn't seen her, nor even talked to her. It's the girl's cousin that he's dealing with. A man."

  "A cousin? Is he related to us?"

  "No," Thorne replied. "He comes from Eulalie's mother's side of the family."

  "I want to see her," Eloise said softly.

  "So do I," Thorne replied. "And I intend to do just that."

  "You're not going to dispute her claim, are you, Thorne? She's entitled to an equal portion of the shipping lines . . . when Father is no longer in charge."

  "I know. And she'll get her share. I'll see to that. But she can't have everything. Anyway, the scheme has failed since the old man disclosed the secret."

  "Not really," she said. "He won't want anyone else to know. Which means the secret must be kept."

  "We'll see," Thorne told her grimly. "Eulalie may be reasonable when she realizes we're not intent on depriving her of her share."

  "We'll be going to Louisiana then," Rainey said.

  “We?" He arched a dark brow.

  "I'm going with you, of course," Rainey told him.

  “Are you now?”

  “Of course. You can’t expect me to stay here in this hotel while you’re gone. An’ I sure as hell ain’t gonna stay at your Pa’s house.”

  "Rainey!" He pretended to be shocked. "Hasn't that tutor taught you anything? Ladies do not swear."

  "This one does when she's good and mad, and that's what I'm gonna be if'n you run out on me, Thorne Lassiter."