Lynette Vinet

by Wild Eden Wicked

“Ah, my fair Eden, my love.” He kissed her and scooped her into his arms, carrying her to the pool. It was nearly dawn before they finally arrived at Castlegate.

  Chapter 14

  Two days later, Damon entered the law office of MacKenzie, Marsh, and Timmons. The receptionist showed him into Mr. Ralph MacKenzie’s office, and Damon shook hands with the gray-haired barrister. MacKenzie, who had handled certain matters for Damon in the past, frowned after Damon finished speaking. “What you’re asking may take a bit of time to accomplish,” he noted.

  “I’m aware of that, sir, but I have to know.”

  “May I ask why you’ve waited five years to discover your wife’s whereabouts?”

  “I didn’t care where Tessa was before now. I’ve fallen in love and want to get married.”

  MacKenzie nodded, his weathered face breaking into a gentle smile of understanding. “Yes, I’ve heard about you and a certain Mrs. Flynn. This is a small town with many ears.” He suddenly grew serious. “You’ve led many people to believe you’re a widower, that your wife died a number of years ago. Have you told Mrs. Flynn that you can’t marry until we learn if Tessa Alexander is alive or dead?”

  Damon sheepishly admitted he hadn’t. “I hoped you might be able to get some information, that after all this time Tessa might truly be dead. Christ Church was where she was headed the last time I saw her.” His eyes darkened to indigo. “As far as I’m concerned, she’s dead.”

  MacKenzie scribbled something on a sheet of paper, nodding as he listened. “I can sympathize with you, Damon, but you’ve got to realize New Zealand is a large, remote country. The possibility exists that Tessa may have left Christ Church to follow after this other man. She could be anywhere, anywhere at all, even Australia or America. If she doesn’t want to be found, then we’ve very little chance of locating her to serve her with the divorce petition.”

  Damon couldn’t help but scowl. “Oh, she’s somewhere civilized, Mr. MacKenzie. Tessa always liked luxury. You won’t locate her in the bush.”

  “I’ll send one of my investigators to Christ Church. I don’t really see much of a problem if we find her. She did desert you.”

  The two men rose and shook hands when the conference was completed. Damon nodded his head to Miss Donner, MacKenzie’s pretty clerk and quickly headed for home. Eden was waiting for him, and he wanted to hold her, to prove to himself that she was real and not going anywhere.

  Beneath the hot sunshine, he broke out into a cold sweat. She might leave him if she learned the truth too soon. He was still a married man, though he’d told everyone Tessa had died. He cursed himself for not seeking a divorce when she’d left him for a wealthy man in Christ Church. She’d committed adultery so the divorce would have been settled quite easily at the time. But he’d been so distraught, so angry at her and despising her so much that he’d cut her out of his life, half convincing himself she really was dead. As the years passed, he thought she might truly have died, for he heard nothing from her. There wasn’t a reason to seek a divorce then, to discover if she might have passed away.

  Until now.

  Spurring his horse, he raced for Thunder Mine. Somehow he must delay Eden from making wedding plans until he learned something substantial. He feared she wouldn’t understand his situation or be willing to wait for him if he told her anything now. Worse was the thought that she might turn to Jock Sutherland for comfort, and he felt chilled to his very marrow to imagine how Jock would take advantage of her distress. But luckily for Damon, Jock, like everyone else in the area, believed Tessa was dead. So his secret was safe for now, and Eden was his.

  The moment he arrived home, he swept Eden into his arms and took her to the bedroom where he imprisoned her in his velvet embrace for the rest of the day.

  ~~~

  Jock groaned his pleasure and spilled himself into the writhing woman beneath him. When he’d finished with her, he sat up, not even bothering to hold the wench in his arms. Minny Donner didn’t care for the fevered kisses before lovemaking or the tender caresses afterward. She was a strange woman, but he admitted she was adept at firing his flesh. And, hell, he didn’t mind if she preferred only the sexual act. That was fine with him. Minny was a no nonsense gal, and he appreciated it. They both got what they wanted, and sometimes he received a bit more in the way of information.

  Minny was only a clerk, but she had a talent for keeping an ear and eye out for juicy tidbits of information concerning conversations she’d overheard at the law office. She always passed on things which might be of interest to Jock, things she thought he might want to know about people in the area. One never knew when one might need to apply some pressure, and to a man in Jock’s position it paid to be informed.

  Minny put on a gauzy robe and got up to pour Jock a whiskey. “Have you learned anything interesting?” he asked her, taking the glass she handed him.

  “Hmm, let me think.” Minny fell onto the bed and lay on her stomach. “Not too much, duck, but that handsome Mr. Alexander paid a call yesterday morning to Mr. MacKenzie.”

  “Really? I suppose he wants MacKenzie to pressure me about the water rights.”

  “Naw, I left the door open enough so I could hear and I don’t remember anything about water rights. But he did speak about locating his wife. It seems he wants Mr. MacKenzie’s investigator to track her down so he can divorce her or find out if she might be dead. Now I don’t know Mr. Alexander all that well, but he’s a handsome one. That wife of his must have been crazy to leave him. You know anything about her, Jock?”

  Jock was out of the bed and starting to dress before Minny could blink. “Where you going?” she asked.

  “I have an appointment.”

  “At ten o’clock at night? I thought you’d be staying.”

  “No, not tonight. Here.” He took a number of bills out of his billfold and threw them on the bed. “Buy yourself a pretty hat or something you want.”

  “Sure, duck. Thanks.” Minny grinned, not at all upset by Jock’s sudden departure.

  While fixing his cravat, Jock peered at Minny’s reflection in the mirror. “Did Alexander happen to say if his fiancée was aware of his situation?”

  Minny ceased counting the money to look up. “I think he said she didn’t know. That’s why he was in such a hurry to be free of his wife. He wants to marry this other woman.”

  “I see,” Jock said, and smothered a smile. When he’d finished dressing, he lifted Minny’s chin. “Don’t mention what you’ve heard to anyone.”

  “Do I ever? You know, Jock, you’re a suspicious type of person.”

  “Yes, my dear.” He eyed the money he’d just given to her which more than doubled her monthly salary at the law firm. “And aren’t you glad for it.”

  “Will I be seeing you anytime soon?”

  “No, I’m going on a trip.”

  “Oh, where you going?”

  Jock started for the door, his mind working as he spoke. “I’m leaving for Christ Church in the morning.”

  ~~~

  Damon was at the mine when Bert Carruthers arrived at Castlegate, uninvited. Eden, who’d been working along with the house servants, was busily polishing a large silver candelabra on the dining-room buffet. As one of the servants led Bert to Eden, she saw that Bert’s shoes were muddy and that large black footprints tracked across the Oriental rug. Though dismayed, she kept a clamp on her mouth. Bert was a neighbor and Marjorie’s husband, she reminded herself, and she should put aside her personal feelings about the man. She’d never like him, but she could be civil to him.

  Wiping her hand on her apron, she offered him a cool smile. “Damon isn’t here. He’s at the mine,” she told him, believing he’d come to see Damon. “May I get you something to drink while you wait?”

  Bert refused. With his cap at a jaunty angle, he watched her, and the skin on the back of her neck prickled. “How is Marjorie? I haven’t seen her since the wedding. Please tell her I’ll visit soon.” She purposely turned away from him,
going around the other end of the dining table. “I’ll have Tiku get Damon for you.”

  “It ain’t Damon I come to see.”

  She barely made it to the doorway before Bert held her waist fast, pressing her backside against the lewd, hard bulge in his trousers. “I’ve come to see you, Eden,” he hoarsely whispered. “I think we need to finish what we started in town a few weeks ago.”

  “Get your filthy hands off me!” Her demand fell upon deaf ears.

  “Aw, stop teasing old Bert. You know you like men’s hands upon you.” His breath smelled of liquor and was hot in her ear. “You like pretending to be a lady, but LaRue’s ain’t no finishing school. Come on, take old Bert to your bedroom. I promise you I won’t tell Damon, and neither will you—not if you don’t want something bad to happen to him.”

  Eden felt genuine fear when Bert began dragging her down the hallway to the bedroom. She dug her heels into the floorboards, but Bert viciously yanked at her. “Stop it! Let me go!” she screeched, not about to submit to Bert Carruthers. She looked frantically about her. If only she could get a hold upon something, but his arms pinned hers to her sides. He dragged her along, ignoring her screams. She felt herself choking on her own breath, fearing the worst. But she was going to fight him, fight him with every ounce of strength she possessed.

  It was then she heard a hard, conking sound. Bert stopped, frozen to a standstill. Then his arms slid down the length of her and he fell unconscious to the floor. Eden lost her balance and tottered, grabbing at the wall. With clumsy hands, she pulled her skirt out of Bert’s grasp, unable to focus on anything but him until she realized Tiku, clutching a thick, gold-plated wall sconce, loomed over them.

  Gasping sobs of relief choked her. Tears threatened to overwhelm her. “Are you all right, Mrs. Flynn?” Tiku asked, supporting her with a steadying arm. She leaned against him for a few moments to get her bearings. At least she wasn’t physically hurt. If not for Tiku, she’d be fighting off Bert in the bedroom right now. Shivers wracked her to imagine such horror.

  “I’m just frightened,” she admitted, “but I’ll be fine once you remove this … this person.” She couldn’t think of a word awful enough to call Bert, who lay with a large gash on the top of his head where Tiku had struck him with the sconce. “I’d appreciate it if you could take Mr. Carruthers home.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Tiku bent down and draped Bert over his shoulders with little effort.

  “Tiku, thank you for rescuing…”

  Eden had trouble speaking, too overwhelmed by what had nearly happened. “You’re welcome, Mrs. Flynn.” He gave her a thoughtful look. “I think Mr. Alexander will want to know about this.”

  Eden nodded. She’d have to tell Damon. He’d make certain Bert didn’t return to Castlegate to bother her again. Tiku disappeared outside with his burden. Eden went to the window to see him depositing Bert on the back of the wagon. She pitied poor Marjorie. The sensitive young woman didn’t deserve such a pig as Bert Carruthers for a husband.

  With trembling hands, she picked up the sconce from the floor where Tiku had laid it and hung it on the wall.

  ~~~

  Marjorie had just finished brewing tea when Tiku drove into the yard. She let out a little cry of joy to see him again. With the bright sun shining upon his dark hair and skin, he resembled a Maori god. How handsome he looked to her with his broad shoulders covered by a snowy white shirt, his lean thighs encased in dark trousers. She chuckled aloud to see his feet were bare when he disembarked at the back of the house. Tiku would never change.

  But Marjorie’s happy expression turned somber when Tiku hauled her unconscious husband like a sack of lard from the wagon. She opened the door for him before he’d stepped onto the porch. “What happened?” she asked, instantly noticing Bert’s head was bleeding.

  “Mr. Carruthers had an accident. I found him near Thunder Mine.”

  Marjorie’s hands clutched at her throat. “Bushwhackers, do you think?”

  Tiku shrugged. “I can’t say, Mrs. Carruthers.” Marjorie led him to the parlor where he deposited Bert on the sofa. Bert groaned but didn’t open his eyes. His skin was ashen, but it seemed the only damage done to his person was the wound on his head.

  Marjorie hurriedly limped to the kitchen and found a wet washcloth. She began to clean away the blood, but she grew pale and moaned. Tiku took the cloth from her and ministered to Bert. He told her after a careful examination that the wound wasn’t very deep. “But he should be stitched,” Tiku advised her. “If you have some thread and a needle I can close the wound.”

  A tiny smile played around Marjorie’s mouth. “You sound almost like a physician.”

  “I am,” Tiku said simply, looking at her from liquid brown eyes. “But not a people doctor. I’m trained to care for animals. I studied veterinary medicine in London under my father.”

  “I didn’t know that.” Marjorie was shocked to learn this about Tiku. She’d never guessed he was trained to do anything but cook. “I thought your father was an explorer.”

  “Yes. He came to New Zealand to study the animal life. May I have the needle and thread?”

  “Oh, yes, of course. I’ll get them immediately.” Marjorie went to her sewing basket and found what she needed. In fascination she watched as Tiku took the needle and held it over the flame of a candle—to sterilize it he told her, and to kill the germs. Then he went about his work, stitching Bert’s skin together with expert hands. So, she thought, Tiku was an animal doctor. In that case Bert’s skull was in good care.

  Tiku was skillful and graceful in his movements. Marjorie liked watching him. She felt silly for growing weak when she started to clean Bert’s wound, but that was because she hated touching the man, not because she couldn’t tolerate the sight of blood. Bert was a horrible husband, and since their marriage she’d been living a nightmare. He didn’t have servants, because he was too cheap to pay them a fair wage. So Marjorie had been forced to do all of the cooking and cleaning herself. And Bert had taken charge of her inheritance, so if she’d chosen to run away she would have no money to leave.

  And she had considered running away, seriously considered it. The man was a beast, a loud, foul-mouthed smelly monster. Since she’d stepped into this house on their wedding night, he’d abused her by calling her names and backhanding her if she as much as gave the impression she was going to sass him. She could take the slaps and the ugly words, but she couldn’t tolerate the way he vilely used her body, the unspeakable things he’d done to her and made her do to him. If being married entailed such pain and humiliation as this, then she wished for death. Sometimes she prayed Bert would die, but immediately she asked God to forgive her. He was a human being, but even as she tried to convince herself of this fact, she couldn’t think of Bert as better than an animal.

  “Mr. Carruthers will be in pain when he wakes up.” Marjorie blinked as Tiku broke into her thoughts. “Give him a swig of whiskey for the pain.”

  Marjorie grimaced. “He’d take one anyway.” She hobbled to the door. “Thank you for bringing him home.”

  For a moment, Tiku hesitated. “Are you all right, Miss Marjorie?”

  She wasn’t all right, she was miserable, but she couldn’t let on to anyone about her marital situation. It wasn’t proper. “I’m well,” she said, but bitter tears sprang to her eyes and she gave the only excuse she could think of to account for them. “Sometimes I get homesick for High Winds.”

  For a brief instant she thought Tiku was going to touch her face. Instead, he swung open the door. “If you need me for anything, Miss Marjorie, I’ll be at Castlegate.”

  “I’ll remember.” How could she ever forget? Tiku was so close yet so very far away from her. “You’re a very good doctor,” she praised him warmly. “Why do you cook for Mr. Alexander when you could be tending animals?”

  “I mustn’t get above my station, ma’am.”

  His terse words came out like a harsh croak. Before Marjorie could say anything further
, he’d climbed into the buggy and was gone. Yet there was nothing she could say. Tiku was right. The Maoris criticized him for his education in a white world. Most whites wanted him to remain with the savages and wouldn’t accept him, though he was intelligent and educated. Both peoples tended to look down upon those like Tiku, a Maori who was more European than Maori. It wasn’t fair. Life had played a cruel trick upon Tiku, and had been cruel to Marjorie, too. She loved Tiku but couldn’t tell him.

  If only things could be different, if only he loved her like she loved him.

  “Mar-jor-ie.”

  She stifled her groan at Bert’s call and heartened to note upon close inspection that he sounded weak and looked even worse than he sounded. The disgusting beast wouldn’t hurt her tonight.

  “Thank you, Bushwhacker, whoever you are,” she mumbled under her breath, pouring Bert a huge shot of whiskey. “You’ve done your good deed for the day.”

  Chapter 15

  “It was a grand wedding, don’t you think?” Eden asked Damon, cuddling next to him in bed that night. She was thinking about what a pretty bride Joanie made and how handsome and proud a groom was Nick Patterson. The couple had decided to get married quite suddenly, and after receiving Nick’s note, Eden and Damon had rushed into town to attend the ceremony, which had been performed by the local magistrate. And now, after a lovely afternoon filled with sweet-tasting wine and a wonderful supper at the restaurant where Nick and Joanie worked, Eden and Damon had decided to spend the night at the finest hotel in town.

  Damon placed a kiss on the top of her bright head. “Aye, I hope they’ll be happy.”

  “Oh, they will,” Eden insisted, tracing his jawline with lingering fingers. “We’ll know how they feel as soon as we’re married.”

  Damon gave a nervous cough and reached for his jacket which hung on the bedpost. He pulled a cheroot out of the pocket. In the darkness of the room, the match flared and Eden could very clearly make out his tanned features. His face appeared tense, his expression guarded. What was wrong with him? Each time she mentioned marriage, he froze up on her, leaving her with the impression that he didn’t want to marry her. Whenever she broached the subject of marriage, he vacillated about setting a wedding date, though he insisted the wedding would be soon. She worried he had changed his mind about wanting to marry her.