Brett was bewildered. "Then why did your father say you claimed I raped you?"
Miserably blinking back fresh tears as the pieces all began to come together, Anjele could only whisper, "I don't know, unless he and my mother wanted to get rid of you, to keep us apart." She swallowed hard before daring to ask, "You weren't trifling with me? You weren't bedding a married woman?"
Brett had to laugh at that. "No. Where'd you get that ridiculous idea?"
She told him. About Simona and Emalee. And how she was so crushed she'd agreed to go away to England, hating him with every beat of her heart.
"Dear God," Brett whispered, realizing they had been the victims of such treachery. "All this time, I was thinking you got caught and claimed it was rape to save yourself, because I meant nothing to you."
"Oh, that's not true." Anjele was overcome with feelings she'd tried to bury, then remembered and was stung with bitterness again as she challenged, "But why did you trick me and not let me know who you were?"
"Would you have gone away with me?" His lips curved in a teasing smile. "No, you wouldn't. The truth is, I was a Union soldier, sent to New Orleans to be a bayou scout, but I was given the assignment to get you out of prison and make you think I was a spy, so you'd lead me to the plates. Somehow, they found out we'd once known each other."
"Claudia!" Anjele said. "Somehow, she was involved."
"So there was no way I could tell you who I was. After all, you haven't held me in fond memory all these years."
She started toward him then, but Leo sliced the air with his knife in menace and roared, "I told you, I aim to kill the bitch—"
"No." There was an ominous click as Brett pulled the hammer back on his gun. "I'm not going to let you hurt her."
"And you're going to hang for murdering my father, damn you," Anjele avowed.
Leo's eyes widened. "No, I ain't. It won't my fault, and The Voice told me to do it, anyhow."
"The Voice?" Brett echoed. "What are you talking about? Who told you to do all this?"
Nervously, daring to hope that by confiding everything he might be allowed just to take his leave and get out of their lives forever, Leo told of his mysterious encounters with the man hiding inside the crypt. "He gave me all my orders, left money for me above the door, left a glove in the closet this morning," he babbled on. "I knew to go to the grave right then, and he was waitin' inside, and he told me to get out here as fast as I could. Said she was back. Even had a horse hid out for me to ride. Said for me to kill her."
Anjele had slowly moved to stand beside Brett, all fears dissolving at the feel of his strong arm pulling her close against him. She sensed Leo was going to try to bargain for his freedom, and she listened carefully, anxious to learn the identity of the fiend who had sentenced her father to death, and her, as well.
Brett, making his voice soft and coaxing, continued, "Then nobody can really blame you, Pa. But who was it? Who was hiding inside that crypt? Did you ever see him?"
Leo realized how he didn't really want to kill the girl, and if what she'd said was so, that she hadn't accused Brett of raping her, and Brett really did love her, then maybe they deserved to be together. He would just have to forget about the money The Voice had promised him when the job was done. He would get out of town and never look back. "I never knew till today. I never dared hang around to wait for him to come out, but I figured today would be my last chance, and I wanted to find out who it was, anyway, in case I went back and my money wasn't there. I wanted to know who to go lookin' for, so I hid and waited for him to come out, and he did."
Brett tensed, felt Anjele also stiffen. "Go on. Who was it?"
"Don't know his name," Leo said nervously, the hand holding the knife dropping to his side. "But I've seen him before. I know who he is. He—"
A shot rang out, and with a look of panic frozen on his face, Leo fell to the ground. Blood poured from the bullet hole in the back of his head.
Instinctively, at the sound of gunfire, Brett had shoved Anjele to the ground, intending to fall on top of her to shield her. At the same instant, terrified, she had lunged for him, knocking the gun from his hand without meaning to. As he reached out for it, a voice warned, "Don't try it."
Anjele whipped her head about, astounded to see Dr. Duval. "No," she whispered in denial, "it can't be. Not you..."
"Now you both have to die," he said, eyes cold with resolve. "I didn't mean for it to end this way, but I was afraid Leo would make another blunder, so I decided to follow him in case I had to take over. A good thing, too. I had no idea he had hidden to watch me leave the crypt."
Fright was dominated by the anguish of discovering a lifelong friend was responsible for such tragedy. "Why?" she could only ask. "Why, Dr. Duval?"
"Simple. Your father, and myself, along with some of our other friends, were involved in the takeover of the Mint. Your father took the plates, but I believe he must have become suspicious of me, because he didn't let anyone in our group know he had them."
"What he didn't know," he continued with a gloating smile, "was that I saw him take them. I knew he was just waiting for the right time to get them to the Confederacy. I made it my business to get my hands on them, and you know the rest of the story."
"You're a traitor," Anjele breathed in wonder, thinking he looked like a demon from hell, face bathed in the strange grayish glow of the creeping night shadows. "The whole time, you were actually working for the Yankees."
"I'm no fool. I made sure when New Orleans fell, I didn't fall with it. I'm not poor and starving like all those too ignorant and stubborn to act in their own best interest.
"But now it's over. All of it," he declared, raising the gun.
"Daddy, don't!" Raymond yelled, suddenly stepping from the shadows behind his father. He sounded sad, defeated, spirit broken as he pleaded, "Don't make it worse. I heard it all. I followed Anjele and saw you and heard the shot, and oh, God, don't kill them...." He collapsed to his knees sobbing, covered his face in his hands so he wouldn't have to watch.
Anjele had time for one quick glimpse of Dr. Duval's stricken face before he turned the gun on himself.
For long, seemingly endless moments, no one moved or made a sound. And then Raymond began to crawl toward his father's body. Reaching him, he pulled him into his arms and began to croon, "Oh, Daddy, you didn't have to do it. I would've loved you just the same. And so would Momma. We would've forgiven you...."
Brett gathered Anjele close. "It's over, Angel. He couldn't face his family finding out he was a traitor. Maybe it's best this way. But one thing is for certain—we've got to get out of here, now," he emphasized.
"The plates..." she whispered above the roaring within. Reaching into her pocket, she brought out the key and pointed to the crypt. "In there. In my mother's coffin.
"Life," she choked on a heart-wrenching sob, "growing out of the aperture of death..."
Brett had no idea what she was talking about, was concerned only with getting the plates so they could be on their way. Taking the key, he went to open the door. "You'd better wait out here," he advised as she hovered beside him. He didn't want her there when he opened the casket.
Once inside, he gathered all his strength to shove aside the heavy slab covering her mother's tomb. Holding his breath, steeling himself, glad for the faint light, he slowly raised the lid of the coffin. Avoiding the grisly sight of the decaying corpse, he ran his fingers down the side of the casket. At her feet, he felt a burlap bag, and knew he had what he was after.
He wasted no time in closing it all up again.
Outside, he handed the bag to Anjele and triumphantly told her, "Let's go."
"Not yet," she said, moving to where Raymond still held his father in his arms. "Raymond," she attempted to comfort, "If you want to come with us—"
"No." He shook his head vehemently. "No, I've got to take him home and bury him. Then I'll leave. I'll convince my mother there's nothing left for us to do. You go ahead. And hurry. Mammy said Cl
audia had gone to get the Yankees."
Just then, Brett saw Claudia running up the hill. "She's here," he warned. "And the soldiers won't be far behind."
Anjele gave Raymond a quick hug in parting and ran to Brett.
Raymond reached to pick up his father's gun, which was lying close by. "Get going," he ordered. "I'll hold them back. Head for the bayou. They won't dare go in after you."
Brett didn't argue, though he heard Anjele's soft cry of protest. Holding tight to her hand, he rapidly led the way, and in seconds they were swallowed by the swamp, by the night.
Claudia burst on the scene, looked from Dr. Duval's body to Leo's and shrieked, "What happened? She's killed them both. Where did she go? We've got to stop her, keep her here till the soldiers come."
Raymond, still holding the gun, gently removed his arms from around his father. He got to his feet and calmly asked, "Where are the soldiers, Claudia? Why aren't they with you? You did go to town to get them, didn't you?"
"Of course I did." She strained to see him in the semi-darkness, puzzled by his composure in the wake of the carnage, the death of his own father. Reproachfully she admitted, "They didn't think an escaped prisoner was important, said they'd be out soon, but they were all excited about a battle going on in Bayou Teche.
Rage returned to remind her how she'd found the closet empty, then heard the gunfire. "Who let her out? Mammy swore she didn't do it, so it had to be you, you stupid bastard! Don't you know you'll hang? And maybe it's for the best. You can't forget her, can you?"
Raymond knew she was nearing hysteria but easily soothed her with the lie, "She said if I'd let her out, she'd lead me to the engraving plates. I thought that was more important. It gives us something better to offer them, doesn't it? The Federal government will reward us handsomely, don't you think?"
Claudia was overcome with joy. "Of course, you ninny. We'll have soldiers to help us rebuild BelleClair, all the food and supplies we need. Where are they?" She glanced about wildly, excitedly. "I want to be waiting with them in my hands when they get here."
He pointed to the crypt. The door was still open. "In there. Elton didn't think anyone would think to look in there."
"Of course they wouldn't. What a wonderful hiding place."
"They're lying on the top of Twyla's casket."
She blew him a kiss, suddenly cheered and buoyant to think everything was going to be all right, after all. To hell with Anjele. Let her go. As long as she didn't come back, Claudia didn't care.
She ran inside the crypt.
Raymond swiftly moved to slam and lock the heavy door behind her.
He could hear her screaming as he lifted his father's body in his arms and started down the hill.
By the time he got to the bottom, he couldn't hear any sound at all coming from the cemetery.
He figured in a few days, it would be real quiet up there. Real quiet, indeed.
Safely in the bowels of the bayou, Brett took Anjele in his arms and kissed her till they were both breathless.
When at last he released her, she gazed up at him in the scant light and murmured, "I love you, Gator, believe that."
"Oh, it's Gator now, is it?" he responded huskily, then murmured, "I do believe you, ma chère, and know that I love you, too. I always have. I always will."
"What waits for us out there?" she asked timorously. "Where do we go from here?"
"We've got a war waiting, and when it's over, we've got the rest of our lives—together."
"That's all we'll have, but it's all that counts, my darling. As long as I have you," she promised, "I won't look back to what I've had to leave behind."
"If we can find it, we've got a gold mine waiting," he told her with a mysterious grin, "but we've got something more important to look for than that."
"And what might that be?" she pressed closer, lifting her face for his kiss.
"Springtime, Angel," he whispered. "We've got to go find springtime, and flowers, so I can hold heaven in my hand, my heart, for always."
And his lips claimed hers in promise of spring eternal... and heaven in a wildflower.
The End
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Passion's Fury
An Historical Romance
His face only inches away, she could feel his warm breath as he whispered, "April, you're going to enjoy being with me. Believe me, you'll have more fun as my woman than you ever would stashed away in the monastery they were taking you to."
"Damn you, Rance Taggart, I don't want to be your woman," she cried. "You've caused enough trouble in my life. I should've let my father kill you when he had the chance—"
He silenced her with a kiss. She was shocked to find that it tasted of warm, sweet wine. He released her quickly and got to his feet, jerking her long with him.
"Will you listen to me?" she pleaded, struggling. "My father is very sick. Vanessa is going to take advantage of that. That's why she wanted me out of the way."
Suddenly, his face became a thundercloud of fury, and he reached out and shook her. "Now you listen to me," he ordered. "I can see why Vanessa would want you out of the way, to give her a chance to make peace with your father. You've always been the apple of his eye. Let Vanessa have him to herself now."
He lifted her and placed her in the saddle, then began walking through the woods, leading the horse. April wrapped her trembling hands around the saddle horn, staring at Rance's broad back, too stunned to speak.
PASSION'S FURY
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Passion's Fury
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Also by Patricia Hagan
Orchids in Moonlight
Simply Heaven
Say You Love Me (A Historical Western Romance)
This Rebel Heart (The Souls Aflame Series, Book 1)
This Savage Heart (The Souls Aflame Series, Book 2)
Starlight
Passion's Fury (Author's Cut Edition): Historical Romance
Forbidden to Love: Historical Romance
Final Justice (A Romantic Suspense)
Shadows of Love Boxset (Two Gothic Romance Novels in One)
About Patricia Hagan
Patricia Hagan is the New York Times bestselling author of 42 novels and over 2500 short stories. Her books have been translated into 15 languages, and she has made promotional trips to England, France, Italy, Greece, Norway, Ireland, Spain, Germany, Denmark, and Croatia.
A graduate of the University of Alabama, majoring in English, she has taught creative writing and been a guest speaker at writers' conferences across the U.S. She is also an award-winning former Radio/TV Motorsports journalist, having covered NASCAR stock car racing. She has also traveled extensively as a travel writer, reviewing cruise ships all over the world.
She now resides in South Florida and is the proud mother of a U.S. Navy SEAL.
Patricia Hagan loves to hear from her readers. You can contact Patricia at [email protected]
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