Sweet Words of Love

by Betty Brooks

  Then suddenly, as though the situation were not absurd enough, the hall door was shoved open and a stranger burst into the room. He stopped short, his gaze narrowing visibly as he took in the scene before him.

  There was Lolly, sprawled across the bed, her clothing ripped and torn, tears glistening on her cheeks, shaking as though with extreme fear. And there was Helen, naked as the day she was born, standing erect and glaring at Julian, who hung at least two feet above the floor, held there by the large man, who had paused in his punishment of Hamstead long enough to direct his attention toward the newcomer.

  Lolly could hardly believe it when the large man began to smile. "Thorne." The words rumbled out of his chest. "You're too late. I already found her."

  The newcomer, the one the large man had addressed as Thorne, looked at Lolly again and said, "I hope to hell your name is Eulalie."

  Twenty

  Rainey regained her senses slowly. She became aware of sound, of voices that seemed to be coming from a long distance, but she couldn't make sense of the word.

  "Wake up," the voice said. "Come on, Mrs. Lassiter. It's time to wake up." The voice belonged to a man, and although it was gruff, she sensed the kindness beneath the tone. "Wake up," he said again. "Come on, Mrs. Lassiter, open your eyes and look at me." The words were accompanied by a light slap on her right cheek, making her realize the man must be speaking to her. But why did he call her Mrs. Lassiter? she wondered. That wasn't her name.

  She opened her mouth to tell him that, but instead of words she heard only a moan.

  "That's good," the voice said. "Come on now. Open your eyes. Look at me, Mrs. Lassiter. I need to have you awake so I can finish examining you."

  She blinked eyelids that seemed as heavy as a chunk of iron, then managed to keep them open long enough to see a heavyset man with silver-colored hair leaning over her. In the instant before her eyes closed again, she realized he held a stethoscope in his hand.

  A doctor. He must be a doctor. In that instant she recalled her last memory, just before Cage Larson

  shoved her down the stairs.

  "My baby?" she asked huskily, forcing her eyes to open again.

  "You lost it," the kindly gentleman said. “I’m sorry, my dear, but there's no reason why you can't have other children. You're a young woman and you have no internal damage."

  "No," she moaned, turning her head aside to shut out his face. "No more children."

  "Nonsense[ I know you're feeling a terrible loss right now. But you weren't very far along, my dear. Be thankful for that. At least you hadn't developed a real attachment to the baby. And you've plenty of time for more children."

  She swallowed hard around the knot, which suddenly formed in her throat, and tears leaked from her eyes. How could he know how attached she was to her baby? How could he possibly know?

  He turned her head back toward him. "Open your eyes," he ·said gruffly. "Let me see them."

  She allowed him to lift her eyelids and peer into her eyes.

  "How is your vision?" he asked. "Do you see me all right?"

  She nodded her head and groaned from the pain the movement caused.

  "You might have a concussion," he said. "Wouldn't be the least bit surprised the way you struck your head against the floor." He parted her hair and examined the wound there, then grunted with satisfaction. "You have a cut on your head but it isn't very deep. There're a few knots on that head of yours, too, but otherwise, even though you've lost your baby, there was no permanent damage."

  She could have told him that losing her child was just about as permanent as it could get, but instead, she chose to remain silent, unwilling to speak at all.

  He turned away from her and fiddled in his bag. A moment later he held a small bottle of pills toward her. "That headache will bother you for a while," he said gruffly. "When it does, take two of these pills, but not more than six of them each day."

  "I don't need your pills," she choked. "They won't bring my baby back.''

  "Nothing can do that," he admitted. "But the pills will help the headache, andI have a powder that will help the depression over losing the baby."

  His words were the catalyst that broke the dam holding back her tears. They rained down her face as she curled herself into a ball and sobbed out her sorrow. There would be no baby now. No part of Thorne to keep with her on the lonely nights that would come. Oh, God, how could she bear it. The years stretched out before her, barren, lifeless, without joy. She might as well be dead as to face those years alone.

  She didn't know she was voicing that thought until she felt a hand sliding behind her shoulders to lift her up. Her eyes flashed open and she saw the doctor holding a glass to her mouth.

  "Drink this," he said gently. "It will make you feel better."

  She drank the bitter liquid, even though she knew it wouldn't make her feel better. Nothing would.

  Confusion swept through Eulalie as she studied the angry man who had spoken to her. "My name is Eulalie," she said, wondering who he was. "But how could you know that?" She looked past his shoulder and saw Vivian hovering there, as though afraid of entering the room where everyone had taken leave of their senses.

  "I didn't know," he replied. "Only hoped it was so. I'm your brother, Thorne. And I believe , as such, that

  I am due an explanation of what you are doing in a room where every other occupant is naked as a jaybird. "

  Very few of his words registered in Lolly's mind after he'd laid claim to being her brother. Her brother! She didn't have a brother! Her green eyes were round as she studied his grim features. "You must be crazy," she finally said. "I don't have a brother. Furthermore, sir, you are a complete stranger to me."

  She was unaware of the man who'd appointed himself her protector until he dropped his squirming, red-faced captive and directed his attention toward her. "Are you certain he's not related to you, miss?" he growled.

  "Quite certain," she replied firmly.

  "What do you have to say about that, Lassiter?" the man asked the newcomer.

  "Lassiter?" she echoed in a faint voice. "Your name is Lassiter?"

  "Yes," he replied. "Thornton O'Brien Lassiter. My father is Eugene Lassiter." He held her gaze calmly, waiting for his words to sink in.

  "Then perhaps . . . perhaps we are related," she said, her gaze flickering between the two men. "But how did . . . how did you find me?"

  "It wasn't easy," the man who claimed to be her brother replied.

  Eulalie thought about the irony of the situation. She had a brother and now, finding her this way, he was likely to deny her existence. She cleared her throat. "I'm afraid my circumstances might have led you to believe something that is not true."

  "No," he replied. "Vivian has told me the truth of the matter," Thorne said. "How you come to be in this situation." His gaze flickered to the naked men, and his lips tightened grimly. "For God's sake, Duncan, take yourself and that piece of trash you dropped out of here, and put some clothes on."

  The big stranger, whose name was obviously Duncan, frowned as he looked down at himself, then his gaze swept to Eulalie again. "Ma'am, are you comfortable enough with the situation for me to leave long enough to dress myself?"

  "Uh, yes . . . I imagine I will be fine while you are gone," she said, lowering her eyes from his perfectly formed masculine body.

  "Then I'll go," he said. "And I'll take this polecat along with me." He slung the other man over his shoulder like a bag of grain and strode from the room, the bare cheeks of his buttocks gleaming whitely as he went. Eulalie turned her attention to the man who claimed to be her brother. "You said your name was Thornton Lassiter?" she inquired. "Why have I never heard about you before?"

  "I suppose for the same reason I never heard of you," Thorne replied.

  At that moment Madam Louise arrived on the scene.

  "What in hell is going on here?" she asked coldly. "Vivian! Who is this man? And what is he doing here?" Without waiting for the prostitute to reply,
her gaze swept across the room, passing Lolly, then returning again. "Where is Julian?" Her voice rose to an hysterical pitch. "You haven't done anything to him, have you? Do you realize how important the Hamsteads are, young woman? If you've set him against me, then you'll live to regret this day."

  The tall form of Duncan appeared in the doorway. He looked across at Madam Louise and said, "Shut up, Louise! Or you'll be the one who'll regret this day!"

  She sucked in a sharp breath and turned toward him. As her gaze found him, her face drained of color. "Tyler Duncan! Who let vou in?"

  "Someone who didn't recognize me,'' Duncan said, his voice as grim as his expression. "If you don't want

  me to persuade my client to press charges against you, then you'll close your mouth and leave while you have the chance."

  "Charges?" Her gaze narrowed. ""What charges could possibly be lodged against me, Tyler? The girl is here of her own free will . . . and what did you mean when you made that claim about a client? Exactly, who is your client?"

  "She is," Duncan said. "Isn't that right, Miss Lassiter?"

  "Uh . . . of course," she agreed quickly. "Like he said, I'm his client." She tightened her lips. "So I suggest you shut up and leave." Lolly had no idea what the woman was being threatened with, but she would agree to anything Tyler Duncan had to say. Every semblance of fear had fled the moment he'd become her champion.

  "You're bluffing about bringing charges," Madam Louise said harshly. "I've done nothing wrong."

  "Except conduct a little white slavery."

  The words made her face lose what little color it had managed to retain. "You wouldn't dare," she said, but her uncertainty was evident in her voice.

  "Try me."

  "I have no interest in trying you . . . nor in ever laying eyes on you again." She strode stiffly out of the room then, without a backward glance.

  Lolly looked at Vivian and Helen, and the three women smiled at each other. It had been good to see the woman get her comeuppance, no matter what the reason. And that reason had not yet been made clear to any of them. But it was obvious Tyler Duncan knew something about the woman that she would rather not have revealed.

  At Tyler's direction, Lolly packed her few belongings, and left Madam Louise's house of pleasure. Although

  she had no idea what lay ahead in the future, she knew it couldn't be worse than what she was leaving behind.

  The cool night air blew softly against her face as she walked between her brother and Tyler Duncan. As they spoke together she began to realize how they had met. She realized, as well, that Tyler's presence in the bordello had not been accidental, that he had been in Helen's room for the explicit purpose of gathering information that would help in his investigation.

  It had been fate that he had chosen Helen, instead of one of the other prostitutes. Because, although Helen would have done her best for Lolly when she burst into her room seeking help, her efforts would not have been enough.

  A cold chill swept over Lolly and she shuddered when she thought about what would have happened if Tyler had not been there to help.

  "Are you cold, Lolly?" Tyler asked.

  She had thought he had forgotten her presence until he spoke. "No," she replied quickly. "I was just thinking about what could've happened if you hadn't been in Helen's room."

  "Don't think about it," he ordered brusquely. "I was there. And I'm grateful for that fact."

  They fell silent then, all three busy with their own thoughts. Then, Thorne asked a question that had obviously been bothering him for some time. "What made you decide to make my father pay for what he'd done to you, Eulalie?''

  "Make him pay?" she asked, her gaze flickering uncertainly to him as her footsteps faltered. "I don't understand, Thorne. I have never met your-our-father. It was obvious he didn't want any contact with me, so I've respected his wishes and left him alone."

  "Until recently, you mean."

  "I have never tried to contact him."

  "Not personally," he said gruffly. "But indirectly you have."

  "No," she insisted, stopping short to stare at him. "Not even indirectly."

  "Then what about your cousin, Cage?"

  Her gaze narrowed with sudden suspicion. "Cage?" she asked. "Cage Larson?"

  "Yes," he said dryly. "That is the one."

  "Cage is my cousin. He's the reasonI was in that mess. His gambling debt and those men threatening to tear him limb from limb. And they would've done it, too. Cage was certain of that. He was trembling when he told me, absolutely terrified, fearful of his life and the torture they would inflict before they killed him. That was the only reason I went to Joy Wang. She loaned me the funds to give him. And it really wasn't so bad at her house, but when she traded me to Madam Louise-" She broke off suddenly and her gaze flickered between the two men who had become silent and watchful. Then Tyler began to curse.

  "That damned scoundrel! He's got more than one black mark against him! And whenI get my hands on him, he's going to wish he'd never been born."

  "You didn't know?" Her gaze left Tyler and found Thorne. "And neither did you. But you saidhe-that you-What were you talking about before?"

  "Our father has been giving large sums of money to your cousin for the past few years. Cage told Father that he was your agent, that he was acting on your behalf, at your request."

  Lolly gasped with horror. "And your father believed him?"

  "He had no reason not to do so, Lolly."

  "Is that why you are here then?" she asked, feeling a terrible weight of disappointment. "Because he got tired of making payments to my cousin?"

  "No," Thorne replied. He went on to explain the way he'd gotten involved in the whole thing. And when he was finished, Lolly realized how little she had really known her cousin.

  "I should have known Cage was up to something when he asked so many questions of my grandfather," she said angrily. "I never knew anything about this, Thorne.I would never have condoned such a plan."

  "I realize that now."

  Tyler patted her hand. "Nobody is blaming you, Lolly. But I'm afraid that isn't all that we have to tell you."

  "There's more?" She heaved a deep sigh. "You might as well tell me the rest of it. What else has he been up to?"

  "It's not Cage this time. It's your grandfather."

  "My grandfather?" She frowned at them. "What do you know of my grandfather?"

  Tyler put his arm around her shoulder and leaned closer. "He . . .your grandfather passed away a few days ago, Lolly. Thorne was with him and he-"

  "Grandpere!" she cried. She could feel the color leaving her cheeks. "You cannot mean it! It is not true. Grandpere is all I have . . . all that is dear to me. No, no! He could not be gone! He is a young man yet. There should be many years left to him.''

  Tyler pulled her against him and smoothed his hand down her hair. "He did not suffer, little one," he said gently. "And his last thought was for you."

  "Where is he?" she asked, tilting her head to look into his face. "Where did they take him? I have to see him."

  "That is not possible, Eulalie," Thorne said. "He is at rest now. We put him beside your grandmother. We thought he would want that."

  "Yes," she murmured, wiping her eyes. "Yes. Thank you, Thorne, for doing that. He wanted to be there when the time came. But . . .what happened? Why did he die?"

  He explained to her what had happened, and by the time he'd finished speaking they were at the hotel. "I'll get another room," Thorne told them. "Why don't you wait over there?" He pointed toward the settee.

  Lolly was grateful for the suggestion. Her knees were weakened from the news she'd received. Her dear, beloved grandfather, her g randpere, was gone. Now there was nobody left for her in the whole world. Nobody who really cared for her, anyhow.

  Her cousin, Cage Larson, most certainly didn't care. He'd proved that many times over. And her father . . . he had tried his best to keep her existence hidden from the world. There was Thorne, though . . . her brother, obvio
usly a good man, but he was a stranger. And there was the detective who hovered over her as though she were the most precious gem in the world.

  Tyler. She looked at him through a mist of tears, and what she saw in his eyes made her realize there was a whole lifetime ahead of her.

  Thorne crossed the lobby swiftly. The desk clerk leaned against the long counter, studying the ledger.

  "Do you have a room adjoining my suite?" Thorne inquired brusquely.

  "Mr. Lassiter!" the other man exclaimed. "I didn't expect to see you here. How is your wife doing?"

  Thorne frowned at the man. "Very well, I suppose. I haven't seen her since earlier today, though." His words were meant to convey humor, but the look on the desk clerk's face made him uneasy. "Why do you ask?"

  For a moment the man looked confused, then his eyes ·widened. "I-I-it's just that your wife is--was-so delicate and all. And for such a thing to happen, sir. And in our hotel, too." He looked around and lowered his voice, which took on a funeral tone. "Have they caught the man who did it?"

  A cold chill settled around Thorne and he could feel the blood draining from his face. "What in hell are you talking about?" he demanded. "Caught what man? Has something happened to Rainey? "

  As though he suspected Thorne would do him physical harm, the clerk backed away, putting more distance

  between himself and the angry man who faced him. ''I'm sorry, Mr. Lassiter," he said. "I thought you knew."

  "Knew what? Dammit, man! What happened to Rainey?"