Sunrise Surrender--Jarrett Family Sagas--Book Three

by Vivian Vaughan

  He felt her tremble against him, felt her breasts in all their confinement press against his chest, recalled in infinite detail how they felt unfettered against his bare skin, how they looked so smooth and ripe, how they tasted.

  Moonbeams glimmered from highlights in her hair and sparkled in her eyes. Her lips parted and he watched her smile before she spoke. Her seductive voice teased.

  “How long will your chaperons allow you to stay out tonight?”

  He chuckled, kissing her again. “Until you run me off.”

  It wasn’t what he had meant to say, and the moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them. But she didn’t say what he knew was in her mind, and he didn’t retract the ill-thought promise.

  Instead he guided her downstairs to her stateroom where they spent the next several hours as they had spent the night before, locked in each other’s arms.

  This time there were no secrets to tell. They had already told them all, or at least he knew she thought they had.

  And there were no promises. He couldn’t make them, and she evidently didn’t feel the need. For that he was grateful.

  He didn’t tell her what he had set out that night to tell her—he didn’t want to spoil their last night together. In the morning over coffee, watching the sunrise on the Mississippi, he would tell her. Afterwards he would avoid her the rest of the trip. But for the time being, this night was theirs—theirs to revel in love-making that must last them the rest of their lives.

  Near dawn he rose from her arms. “I’ll meet you in an hour to watch the sunrise.”

  She pulled him back. “Stay. We’ll go together.”

  He grinned. “And give the crew and passengers your good name to play with? My wrinkled clothes would spread your reputation over the deck like spilled oil.”

  But he lingered at the door, hesitant to leave. He watched her pull the covers over her nudity. “Don’t I get one last peek?

  “A peek will cost you another hour,” she teased.

  Her laughter followed him all the way to his stateroom, which he entered, jacket slung over one shoulder, a whistle on his lips.

  His whistle turned to one of dismay. “God’s bones! What happened here?” The chiffonier drawers stood open, their contents strewn about the floor. The bedclothes were tangled, as in a lover’s knot.

  “We caught an intruder.” Pierre’s voice accused. Or did he imagine it, Brett wondered, dazed.

  “Explain.”

  “We didn’t take our eyes off your door for more than five minutes,” Gabriel told him. “Me, I was late. Some passengers requested extra songs, and Pierre came looking for me. When we returned, your door was cracked and a lamp was on.”

  “Who was it?”

  Brett’s companions exchanged shrugs. “He refused to give his name, sure,” Pierre said. “A big man, and blond.”

  “He came aboard at OK Bend,” Gabriel added. “And—” He motioned to Pierre. “You tell him.”

  “He’s connected with Nat somehow. And with that Jarrett woman.”

  Brett exploded. “Like hell!”

  “You don’t want to hear that, non,” Pierre said, “but it looks like the truth. They ate lunch together yesterday, the three of them.”

  “Lots of people eat together,” Brett stormed.

  Pierre agreed. “Me, I watched them. Some kind of argument arose. The woman, she jumped up to leave. The actor held her back. The blond man challenged them both.”

  Brett’s heart pounded faster than the pistons on the new steam engine Captain Kaney was so proud of, and none of the energy was passion, at least not the kind he had shared with Delta the last two nights. “You’re crazy. Delta wouldn’t … she couldn’t be involved with them.”

  “Like Pierre said,” Gabriel added, “we didn’t figure you’d want to hear it about her. But it looks to be the truth, no?”

  “No!” Brett stormed. He slung his jacket across the room with such force it caught a lamp and dragged it to the floor. Pierre crossed the room, righted the lamp, then straightened Brett’s coat and hung it over the back of a chair.

  Anger raged inside Brett. Anger and fear. “You don’t know how stupid this sounds. You’re accusing Delta of being involved in a scheme to bring me in for what? A damned newspaper story?” He sneered. “Or maybe you think she wants the reward money?”

  “Me, I don’t know the reason,” Pierre said.

  “You don’t know shit!” Brett roared. “Neither of you.” He sank to the bed and cradled his head in his hands. “The woman’s in love with me, for God’s sake. She wouldn’t turn me over to the authorities—”

  “Or worse,” Pierre suggested. “To that bounty hunter.”

  “We’re tellin’ you what we see, mon ami,” Gabriel added. “A woman, she can blind a man to the truth, oui. Sometimes he don’ have a chance of thinkin’ straight.”

  “You don’t know Delta.”

  “We know you,” Pierre told him. “An’ we don’ want you throwin’ your life away for a piece of skirt.”

  “It’s over now,” Gabriel said.

  Brett looked up, momentarily disoriented.

  “You told her, oui?” Gabriel questioned. “That you and her were through?”

  “I’ll tell her at breakfast.”

  “Breakfast?”

  “Yes, dammit, breakfast. Now get out of here and let me change clothes.”

  The two men headed for the door, but Brett stopped them before they left the room.

  “What about the intruder?”

  “Pierre, he threw the feller overboard,” Gabriel replied, closing the door behind them.

  Chapter Ten

  Excitement bubbled inside Delta when she saw Brett sitting at their table outside the paddlewheel lounge. The silence was awesome. Unlike in Memphis, no roustabouts chanted this morning, no waiters scurried around the tables. A whippoorwill sang from somewhere in the distance and was answered by a mockingbird. Or was it the other way around? she wondered.

  The river was a mirror of glass, reflecting the sprinkling of gold and pink from the emerging sun. Little puffs of white mist rose here and there on its surface, like tufts of cotton waiting to be picked.

  The damp morning air seemed almost tangible, like cotton candy at a fair. She was tempted to grab a handful and carry it to Brett with her heart.

  But he already had her heart.

  At her approach he turned and she laughed, the song in her heart more poignant than the mockingbird’s call. And she knew it echoed his own. His eyes held hers and she waited for them to light with a smile.

  She had come to know this man so well, she thought, and to love him so much. She could always tell when he was about to smile, because his eyes lit up first. She watched for that light now, but it didn’t come.

  He didn’t smile nor even rise from his chair when she approached, but watched her take her chair with a noncommittal sort of expression she didn’t understand. The song in her heart began to fade.

  Of course, he must be tired, she reasoned. They had slept little the last two nights. They both needed a good day’s sleep. She smiled at that, wondering what the day had in store for them.

  When his only response to her cheery “Good morning” was to turn his attention back to the river, confusion, like the cry of a hawk, replaced the mockingbird’s song inside her. She followed his gaze, momentarily distracted by the spectacle.

  In the short time her attention had been diverted, the sun had risen several degrees above the water, showering the dark foliage to either side of the river with golden highlights, glittering like gemstones from the dark surface of the glass-smooth river. The showboat seemed to glide through some ethereal tunnel.

  “What’s on for today?” she asked at last. “Or will your chaperons keep you locked away?”

  He turned to stare at her briefly then, but he didn’t speak until his eyes were back on the water. “We can’t see each other again, Delta.”

  The silence around them became deafening, be
ating in her ears, through her brain. For a moment it seemed the only thing alive was her aching heart, and it couldn’t last long, not at the rate it had begun to beat.

  When she found her voice, she asked, “What happened in the hour we’ve been apart.”

  She watched him heave a heavy sigh. “My room was broken into.”

  “But I thought Nat—”

  “Was after someone else?” he demanded, his voice fierce.

  She straightened her shoulders, not so much for courage but because she suddenly felt compelled to lay her head on the table and cry. Tears rushed to her eyes. She fought them back. “You told me he missed the boat at the landing.”

  “He did.”

  “Dammit, Brett!” That got his attention. He cast her a rueful glance. No hint of a smile, hardly even recognition. “Tell me what happened,” she insisted.

  He focused on her then, his eyes narrowed. “You tell me who that blond man was you had lunch with yesterday.”

  “Blond man?”

  “Don’t act dumb.”

  “It isn’t an act. Right now I feel like the dumbest person alive. And it has nothing to do with a blond man.” She watched the sun inch its way higher in the sky, suddenly gripped by a haunting sense of loneliness. It was as if she and Brett were the only two people on earth, and he was saying they couldn’t see each other again.

  She turned to stare at him. His Adam’s apple bobbed and she realized, quite by surprise, that he was struggling to contain his emotions, just as she was.

  His voice became low and husky. “You aren’t dumb, Delta. Just tell me who the man was.”

  “If you mean the man who sat across the table from Nat and me, I don’t know.”

  “You argued with him. A person doesn’t generally argue with a stranger.”

  “I didn’t argue with—”

  “Pierre saw you.”

  She lifted her eyes heavenward. “Pierre. Pierre. I’m sick of Pierre’s interference.”

  She heard Brett sigh. “So am I. If I didn’t know he had my best interests at heart, I wouldn’t listen to him.”

  “What did he say about me?” she demanded.

  “That you and Nat and the blond man had an argument.”

  She pursed her lips. Angry and disappointed, she stared into the glistening water. “And you assumed we were plotting against you, is that it?”

  “Not me, Delta. Pierre.”

  “You, too. You wouldn’t be quizzing me, telling me we can’t see each other again if you didn’t believe every word that meddling—”

  “Sh, Delta. I don’t believe every word he says. But I have to know the truth. My life may well depend on it.”

  Sobered, she turned to study him. “I suppose what Pierre saw was when Nat … ah, offended me. I jumped up to leave the table. Nat grabbed my arm, and that blond man came to my rescue.” She watched the side of Brett’s face, saw his jaw tighten. “Look at me, Brett.”

  Slowly he turned. Their eyes held. Her heart beat erratically, painfully.

  “I had never seen that man before in my life. We didn’t speak until Nat offended me. I have never seen the man since.”

  He smiled, a wan, mournful sort of smile. “You probably won’t see him again, either.”

  At her frown, he added. “Pierre found him going through my room and threw him overboard.”

  Her eyes flew open.

  “Don’t waste sympathy on him. He probably swam ashore or to a nearby sandbar.”

  Watching Brett turn his attention back to the river, she began to feel physically ill. Something else was wrong—terribly wrong. “My sympathy isn’t with him right now,” she said in a soft voice. “It’s with us. Are you saying you intend to stop seeing me because this stranger broke into your room?”

  “No, that isn’t the reason. The reason is—”

  When he looked at her, his clenched jaw gave his face a rigid, distorted look. “Don’t look at me like that, Delta. I warned you not to get close to me.”

  “Not lately, you haven’t.”

  For the longest time he held her gaze, steady, forcefully, as though he could with a little extra effort pull the tears right out of them. Only with effort on her part did she keep from crying.

  Finally he turned away with, “If you misunderstood the last two nights, I’m sorry.”

  Her heart beat in her throat. Curiously she pressed her hand to her chest where it belonged, willing it to return, to pump warmth and life back into her body. He had told her not to get close to him. She told him she didn’t expect a commitment. So why was her heart broken?

  She didn’t look at him again. She knew if she did, all would be lost. And she wasn’t ready to run crying to her room. “I didn’t misunderstand,” she told him. “But I’d like to hear your explanation, anyway.”

  “There are things about me, Delta, that you could never understand.”

  “Concerning your two-bit smuggling, as Nat calls it?”

  He shook his head. “I’m no smuggler. I ship furs without the approval of the Canadian government, but in doing so I’ve helped a lot of people, including myself. I deal directly with the Indians and don’t go through all the red tape that lines a lot of governmental pockets with golden fleece. They don’t like it, but they haven’t been able to stop me. It isn’t illegal, just restricting, from their point of view.”

  Listening to him, a small amount of hope began to grow inside her, until she realized that this might be the last time she ever heard his voice. “Does it concern your ten-year-old trouble in Louisiana?” she asked.

  He spoke to the rising sun. “Oui.”

  “But you said you’re innocent. Let me help—”

  He stiffened. His voice became harsh. “Your help is the last thing I need. If my face gets spread all over the newspapers, they’d have me on the gallows quicker than an alligator can snap up a crawfish pie.”

  “After all we’ve been—” She paused to allow an emerging sense of anger to suffuse the pain in her heart. “You can’t still believe I would expose you in the newspapers? Not after all—?”

  “No,” he broke in. “I don’t believe it. Pierre and Gabriel do, but—”

  “To hell with Pierre and Gabriel.”

  He turned to her then and smiled, again a wan, sad smile. “I know you wouldn’t expose me, Delta. That isn’t what this is about.”

  “Then what is it about?”

  This time he held her gaze while he spoke, explaining in earnest tones how it was best for both of them to end their relationship before it went any further. “If the wrong people were to discover how much I—” He stopped, turned back to the river, and began again. “If the wrong people should suspect that we’re close, they could use you to get to me. Do you understand what that would mean?”

  “Yes.” She followed his line of vision down the still, sleek river. The sun had now risen high enough to caress their faces with its warmth. Inside she felt as cold as ice. “I’m not afraid of them, Brett. I’ll do anything to help prove your innocence.”

  A few feet ahead of the boat a catfish jumped, breaking through the glassy surface of the river as though it had shattered a mirror. Quickly she strove to erase such a portent-filled image from her brain.

  “There’s no way to prove my innocence, Delta, so get that notion out of your head. No way. The most powerful people in the state believe I’m guilty, and they will stop at nothing to see justice done—their view of justice.” Pausing he winced, then continued, “For ten years I’ve topped their Most Wanted list. Believe me when I say they’ll stop at nothing. They wouldn’t even spare the life of a … of a beautiful, bewitching woman.”

  Expressed in the most intimate tone he had used all morning, his words left her weak and practically defenseless. Gradually the significance of what he said worked through her self-pity. She couldn’t abandon him, not now. He needed her more than she had imagined. Without her he would be alone. Alone, in a world filled with enemies.

  “I’ll stand besid
e you, Brett. No matter what lies ahead.” At first she didn’t think he heard. She started to repeat herself. “I’ll stand—”

  “God’s bones, Delta! Don’t you understand anything? It isn’t only your life our relationship would threaten, but mine. If we’re together they have two targets, and either way they get me. Because if they harmed you, they would know damned well I’d go after them and never let up. Not again. So, stay away from me. For both our sakes.”

  They docked at Vicksburg late that afternoon, and Delta spent the two days they stayed there enveloped in a cocoon of misery. For without the physical Brett Reall to chase them away, her nightmares returned, becoming her constant companion—and nemesis.

  With the sun rising higher above the Mississippi, Delta had left Brett sitting alone and returned to her stateroom, where she considered secluding herself for the remainder of the trip. But she had to post an article to Hollis and a telegram to Cameron, else the family would descend upon her like a swarm of angry wasps.

  So she had spent the morning finishing her article, then waited until the parade had time to form before she ventured from the security of her stateroom. She would post the article, send the telegram, and return without arranging any interviews. She could work up something on the Princess Players or the calliope to send to Hollis the following day.

  Arriving on deck, however, she discovered that a representative of the mayor of Vicksburg—a Councilman Hendricks—had come out to meet the boat. Captain Kaney introduced them, and before she could resist, the overly eager, too gussied-up city salesman barraged her with details of the area’s agricultural trade and figures on their river commerce.

  “Along the Yazoo River and the Sunflower, as well as the Mississippi,” he enthused.

  Summoning her wits, Delta inquired, “What about warfage fees, Councilman?” Somewhere in her injured brain, she recalled Captain Kaney’s complaints about high warfage fees along the river.

  “No higher than any other port’s,” Councilman Hendricks exclaimed, adding, “Allow me to escort you and your party to the caves.”