Sweet Words of Love

by Betty Brooks

  "Thought you were looking for her to help her."

  "Well, damn it! I was. But the fact that she's a prostitute puts an entirely different slant on things. Surely you can see that."

  "Maybe she doesn't like being a prostitute. You ever think about that?"

  "No. I guess I didn't. But if she's not where she wants to be, the whole thing makes no sense."

  "Why?"

  "She has funds. Ample funds. She certainly took plenty from my father. And she'll get her share of the inheritance when the time comes. But no more than that."

  "Interesting."

  "What is?"

  "Your attitude. Now me . . . I wouldn 't believe anything about her untilI heard the facts from her own lips."

  "Why not?"

  "Because I have a gut feeling about this. Had it since you walked through that door. And I usually trust that feeling. The whole thing sounded fishy to me from the beginning. You said your father never spoke to her, nor heard from her, except through that cousin of hers. Have you ever considered that maybe she doesn't know what he's doing."

  "That's unlikely."

  Tyler shrugged his shoulders. "It might be worth checking out, though. Anyway, if you want me to go ahead with the search, then you'd better leave me to it."

  "Yes," Thorne said thoughtfully. "Go ahead with it."

  "Do you have any idea what she looks like?" Tyler asked.

  "No. We've never met."

  "Guess then. What color hair would she have? And her eyes and build?"

  "I assume she'd be dark haired, and probably has brown eyes. Her mother was Cajun and my father's hair used to be black when he was younger, and his eyes are gray."

  "We'll assume her hair is dark," Tyler said, scribbling in a small notebook. "And her eyes will either be gray or brown." He closed the notebook. "That's not much to work with, but I guess it will have to do."

  Thorne left him sitting at his desk, staring thoughtfully out the window, hopefully working on his client's problem.

  Rainey was seated at the writing desk in the sitting room composing a letter to her grandfather, but her attention wasn't on what she was doing. She couldn't put last night out of her mind. It had been glorious, that feeling she'd shared with Thorne. She'd never believed loving could be so wonderful. If nly he loved her in return. But it was obvious that he did not.

  Did he still believe she wanted Robert for a husband? If he did, then he was a fool. But she could not tell him different. Didn't want him to pity her for falling in love with him. Even though she knew their relationship would one day end, she would not think about that; she would live only for the moment and take comfort from his presence. She was making memories that would have to last her a lifetime, and she intended to make as many as she possibly could.

  It was time for the noonday meal when Thorne returned to the hotel. They went to the restaurant and ordered steak and potatoes, and while they were eating, Rainey remembered she hadn't told him about Cage Larson.

  "Why would Cage Larson be looking for you?" she asked.

  "Cage Larson?" He frowned heavily. “He was looking for me? Are you certain of that?"

  It was her turn to frown now. "I saw him in the lobby. He was talking to the desk clerk. After he left I went down and asked the clerk what he wanted, and the man said he was looking for you."

  "When did this happen, Rainey?"

  "Yesterday."

  "Why in hell didn't you tell me then?"

  The hard tone of his voice flustered her. "You were tired when you came back, and then . . . and then . . . I forgot. Does it really matter?"

  "You're damn right it does!" he said grimly. "I would have thought you'd have known that, too. Anything that scoundrel does is of extreme interest to me."

  "Scoundrel?" She was confused. "Why do you call him that?"

  "What else would you call him? He is a scoundrel. A damned blackguard."

  "You sure did take a dislike to him, didn't you? And what for anyway? Just because the two of you had words don't-doesn't-mean he's a-"

  "Had words?" His lips thinned. "What in hell are you talking about, Rainey? I never met Cage Larson."

  "Never met him?" Now she was getting angry. "You damned sure did!" Her voice had risen and she was vaguely aware of heads turning in their direction. "You threatened to beat him to a pulp at the dance." She knew her words were an exaggeration but her anger was such that she didn't really care. Anyway, he had been angry.

  "Dance? What in hell are you talking about anyway? I don't remember meeting Cage Larson at any dance. I never attendda-" He broke off suddenly and stared at her with sudden comprehension. "In Lizard Lick? He was the man you danced with and-Holy hell! I had completely forgotten about that."

  "If you forgot about it, then why did you call him a scoundrel?"

  "He's the man that's been extorting money from my father . . . Eulalie's cousin."

  “Cage Larson?”

  “Yes. My sister's cousin. And for some reason he came to the mountains looking for me. Now, I wonder why?”

  "He was in St. Louis, too."

  "You saw him there?" At her quick nod, he asked, ''Where?"

  "In the hotel. The morning I brought you breakfast in bed and we-" She broke off, blushing wildly.

  "And we made love," he finished softly, studying her rosy cheeks with his keen eyes. "Yes. We certainly did do that."

  He covered her hand with his own. "Don't look like that, Rainey, or I'll be forced to take you back upstairs and repeat the process."

  She shyly lowered her eyelids to hide her expression. She couldn't allow him to see how very much she wanted just that. "What do you think Cage Larson is up to?" she asked in a carefully controlled voice.

  “I’m not sure," he replied, his voice becoming hard again. "But I damn sure intend to find out."

  They fell silent then and attended to their meal. When they had finished eating, Thorne offered to show her the city. Rainey eagerly agreed.

  They hired a carriage, which took them through the French Quarter, down Chartres and Royal Street, and past the French Opera House. "One day I'll take you there," Thorne said, nodding toward the opera house.

  "Really?" she asked, wide-eyed.

  "Yes," he said gruffly, brushing his palm lightly over her cheek. "Really."

  They left the carriage and strolled past fine restaurants with exquisite grillwork, past carriage entrances mellow with age leading to sunny courtyards, past narrow, musty tunnelways opening into flowered patios, flags toned alleys, and countless shops that displayed their wares in large paned windows.

  Suddenly Rainey saw a monkey and an organ-grinder. "He's so cute," she said, kneeling beside the small creature that was dressed in a red hat and shirt. "Look!

  He's holding out his hand to me."

  "He's begging for money," Thorne explained with a laugh.

  "Really?" she asked, avidly watching the cute creature. "I wish I had some to give him."

  "How thoughtless of me, Rainey. I should have considered your lack of funds before. Here." He handed her some coins and she gave the monkey one of them. The monkey hurried to the cup beside the organ­ grinder and dropped the coin in, and then came to her again with its hand out.

  "No," Rainey said. "One was enough, you greedy, little thing."

  The creature turned away from her then, as though it had understood her every word, and ran to a nearby woman who'd stopped to exclaim over him. The process was repeated, until the money was in the cup, and the monkey turned to look for another benefactor.

  "I guess he isn't interested in us if we're not giving him money," she said, feeling somewhat disappointed. "You can give him some more if you'd like," he said, laughing indulgently.

  "No, Thorne!" she exclaimed. "I wouldn't waste your money that way."

  "You're a thrifty, little thing, aren't you?" he said, “You'll make some man an excellent wife one of these days."

  Some man. Not him, just some man. The words struck her like a hammer blo
w, and she chided herself for feeling that way. He had never said he wanted her for a wife. She'd always known that. But to speak so easily of her having another man for a husband hurt badly.

  She turned away and blinked quickly, drying the tears that had moistened her eyes. And when she turned back to him again, there was no sign of them having been there, nothing to show him her frame of mind.

  Forcing a quick laugh, Rainey said, "I guess I've seen enough here. Let's go to the park. It's beautiful over there with that lake in the middle of it."

  "Yes, it is," he agreed. He directed his gaze to the passersby, and she noticed that he avoided her eyes.

  Was he thinking about Robert and feeling guilty that he'd taken her innocence instead of saving it for her husband? She didn't know, but she suspected he was. And she couldn't reassure him without some embarrassment to them both, so she decided to hold her silence.

  Even so, Rainey knew in her heart that, no matter what happened in the future between Thorne and herself, she would never marry Robert Golden. She'd been a fool to think herself in love with him.

  But no more. It was Thorne she loved, and if she couldn't have him, then she didn't want anyone.

  Eighteen

  "Now come on, Joy," Tyler said, keenly staring at the small Asian woman. "You and I both know you're lying about the girl. And we also know that I won't leave you alone until you tell me the truth."

  She sighed heavily. "I don't have time for this, Tyler. I have work to do, schedules to arrange, and little time left to do it."

  "Then stop wasting time, Joy. We both have more important things to do. And the sooner you tell me where she is, the sooner you'll see the back of me."

  She reluctantly gave in. "The girl is with Madam Louise." She put a hand on Tyler's arm. "Please don't say who told you where to find her. Louise would never forgive me if she finds out. And she'd sure enough do something hateful out of spite. She might even lure my girls away, might ruin my business."

  Tyler's gaze narrowed. "What reason does she have for keeping the girl's presence there a secret?"

  "I won't say any more, Tyler," the Asian woman said. "You got what you came for, now you must leave here." She rose to her feet. "And please use the back door. I'd rather nobody saw you leave. It would give the house a bad name."

  He laughed abruptly. "The house already has a bad name, Joy. There's little I could do to make it worse."

  "You lie!" she hissed. "The house of Joy Wang is the best brothel in New Orleans. My clientele is carefully selected. Only men of great import are allowed to visit my girls."

  "The cream of society," he said sarcastically. "I suppose your girls are of the best quality, too."

  "Of course," she said. "I make certain of that fact before I allow them to come here."

  "Then what about Eulalie Lassiter? How do you account for her presence here? The girl is a swindler, out for everything she can get, yet she lived here until recently."

  "A swindler!" she gasped, her eyes becoming round with disbelief. "That is not true. There is no way you can make me believe such a thing of that girl."

  "It's true," he said gruffly. "And whether or not you believe me is not important."

  Tyler left her then, deliberately striding toward the front parlor. Although Joy muttered a protest, he paid no heed, just continued on until his long strides carried him to the door, then through it and down the wide steps to the paved walk.

  He wondered why Joy was so certain that Eulalie couldn't be a swindler. Wondered, too, why Madam Louise wanted to keep the girl's presence in her whorehouse secret. Whatever the reason, he decided, he wouldn't allow himself to be swayed from his goal. He would find the girl, make certain of her whereabouts, then take the information back to his client. What Thorne Lassiter did with that information was entirely up to him. Once the information had been passed along, Tyler would collect his money and be done with the whole affair.

  * * *

  It was late afternoon when Rainey and Thorne returned to their suite at the hotel. The door had barely closed behind them when Thorne apprised her of his intention to leave again. "I'll come with you," she said quickly.

  "No, Rainey." He smoothed her cheek with his palm. "You can't come where I'm going."

  "Why not?" she pouted.

  "Because I'm going back to the gentlemen's club. And ladies are not allowed there."

  "Why not?" she asked again.

  He smiled at her. "Because it's a man's club, Rainey. A place set aside for men only."

  "What are the men doing there that they don't want their women to know about?"

  "Nothing devious, I assure you."

  "Assure me all you want to, Thorne, but I ain't gonna believe you." He laughed lightly and his eyes glittered with amusement, making her realize she'd reverted to her former speech pattern. She threw her head back and chose each word carefully before she spoke. "If the men of New Orleans need a club where they can go without the ladies, then there is probably something devious going on there. Something they don't want their womenfolk to know about." She arched a dark brow. "They might even have those fallen women-the ladies of the night there." The thought of such women brought her next words out quickly. "You watch yourself, Thornton Lassiter. Them loose lollies that sell themselves for two bits a night ain't to be trusted. And I won't be so quick to jump in bed with nobody that's been with one of 'em."

  He pulled her swiftly into his arms and gave her a quick hug. "A loose lolly would never be able to satisfy me since I've bedded the likes of you, Rainey Watson. I'm afraid you've spoiled me for other women."

  "Really?" She blinked up at him, trying to dry the moisture that suddenly dimmed her vision.

  "Really," he whispered.

  Then he kissed her, and it was like the first time their lips had touched. The world exploded around her, taking her with it. She felt as though she'd shattered into a thousand pieces, and only Thorne's embrace could make her come together again. She wondered if he could hear the sound of her heartbeat, which thudded frantically beneath her rib cage like a trapped bird trying to escape the confines of its cage.

  When his head lifted, she muttered a word of protest and tightened her arms around his neck."No,Thorne," she whispered. "Don't go now. Not while this hunger is in me.”

  "I have to go now," he muttered, pulling her arms away from him and setting her aside. "If I don't, then I won't leave you until tomorrow."

  "Would that be so bad?"

  "Don't tempt me, Rainey," he growled. "We have to find Eulalie and get that business settled before we can think of our own future."

  He left her then, striding swiftly across the room and hurrying out the door. Rainey stared at the closed door for a moment, her body shivering with the memory of his touch. It had been so easy for him to leave her, she thought. Even though his breath had quickened at their kiss, he had set her aside to go about his business. Why couldn't she do the same? Why was she left trembling with hunger, desperately longing for him to return, to take her in his arms and carry her to his bed?

  Oh, God, why did love have to be such a desperate, one-sided thing?

  Rainey paced the floor, trying to control her quivering nerves, but she could not There were too many memories in the room of Thorne and the way he'd touched her and loved her.

  Crossing the floor to the window, she stared down into the small courtyard. The green foliage reminded her of the mountains, of the peace and quiet that she found among the pines and evergreens. Perhaps if she entered that courtyard, she would find the peace she searched for.

  Rainey left her suite and went downstairs. She was crossing the lobby when the desk clerk called out,

  "Miz Lassiter, ma'am!" He hurried around the counter and joined her. "That man was here again," he said.

  "What man?"

  "The one that was inquiring after Mr. Lassiter," he explained. "I thought you looked a mite worried when I told you he'd been asking after Mr. Lassiter, so I thought you'd want to know he'd been by aga
in."

  She frowned at him, realizing he must be referring to Cage Larson. "What did you tell him?"

  "Only that Mr. Lassiter had gone out again and didn't say where he was going," the clerk replied. "I hope it was all right for me to tell him that."

  "It couldn't hurt anything," she said quickly.

  "Good. There's something about that man that's not quite trustworthy," the clerk said. "And I sure wouldn't want to cause you folks any trouble."

  She smiled to reassure him. "You haven't." She continued on her way, turning the clerk's words over in her mind. "Why is Cage so concerned about Thorne's whereabouts?" she muttered, unaware that she'd spoken aloud until a gentleman who'd been passing by stopped and spoke.

  "I beg your pardon?"

  The man was so obviously speaking to her that she halted abruptly and stared at him, confused. "What?"

  "You spoke to me?" he inquired.

  "Oh, no! I was thinking out loud, I guess. . . .'' Her voice trailed away as the gentleman grunted and strode away quickly.

  Controlling the urge to laugh, Rainey made her way to Canal Street. On the corner of Canal and Chartres a large five-story building was located. The ground floor housed the Godchaux Clothing Store, and the upper floors were used for business offices. According to Thorne, the building was constructed only two years before by Leon Godchaux, Sr., a merchant and plantation owner who specialized in the growing of sugarcane. Rainey entered the store and browsed through the merchandise displayed on racks and shelves and glass cases. She was enchanted by the array of colors and fabrics that had been used to make the gowns and hats, which sported birds and flowers and feathers. Even though she coveted the merchandise, she was aware of the enormous price tag on each garment and refrained from spending the funds Thorne had provided her with.

  She left the store and continued on her way, stopping occasionally to look closer at some item that had caught her eye in a display window, but never entering a store to buy.