The Moon and the Stars

by Constance O'Banyon

  He sat on the edge of the bed and gathered her in his arms. “Mon amour, I am so sorry.” He kissed her tear-wet face, his heart hurting for her. He had never seen such complete devastation in anyone before.

  At last the crying lessened, and he ran his hand up and down her back, trying to comfort her.

  “I remember my father laughing and strong. I remember him teaching me to ride a horse. I remember his personality changing when he lost my mother. He was sad for so long. But I will always remember that he was angry with me when I last saw him.”

  “Non, non, do not think that. When I saw your father, he had only concern and love for you.”

  “You said he was shot?”

  “That is what Nate’s wire said.”

  “But who would do such a thing?”

  “Perhaps you can guess.”

  “Brace!” She fell across the bed like a wilted flower. “When did it happen? How long ago?”

  This was the question he had been dreading. “The telegram was waiting for me when we arrived in New Orleans from Texas.”

  She sat up and looked at him as if she didn’t understand. “If you knew then, why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I was not sure you were strong enough to hear such tragic news.”

  “That was not your decision to make. We are talking about my father. You had no right to withhold the news from me.”

  “Do you forget how ill you were at the time? The doctor thought I should wait and tell you when you were stronger.”

  Her grief had suddenly turned to anger. “And who was to decide when I was stronger? It was not for you or the doctor to say what I could hear and what I should not be told.”

  “I made the decision to wait.”

  Her eyes were gleaming with anger. “What right did you have to decide for me? I am not your prisoner now.”

  “You have every right to be angry with me. But I wanted only to take care of you. I owed it to you because it was my fault you became ill.”

  She scrambled away from him as he spoke the words that crushed her heart. “Did you owe me when you forced me to leave San Sebastian? Did you owe me when you handcuffed me to the horse? Did you owe me when you married me today? Or did you just feel guilty because you tortured an innocent woman?”

  He reached out to her and clasped his hand around her wrist. “I hope you will one day find it in your heart to forgive me. What I did to you was reprehensible. I would do anything to make it up to you.”

  “So you married me, thinking you could make amends for what you had done? I salute your sacrifice on my behalf.”

  “It was not like that at all.”

  When he reached out to her, she batted his hand away. “Don’t touch me! How could you do such a thing? I had a life, and you took it away from me. Since the first day I saw you, you have been controlling me.”

  “Caroline, do not think that.”

  She moved to the long sofa and sat down, folding her legs beneath her. “What am I to do?” She buried her face in her hands. “My dear, sweet father, dead.”

  He knelt down beside her. “Caroline”—his hand slid up her arm—“I do feel guilty for the way I treated you at first. But guilt was not my motive for asking you to be my wife.”

  She flipped her hair out of her face as she tried to gather her fragmented thoughts. “Then what was your reason?”

  The hand that touched her arm became caressing; he was so near, she could feel his breath on her cheek. The news of her father’s murder had been a terrible blow, and her heart was shattered—and yet, at the moment, she wanted to be in Wade’s arms, and she saw in his eyes that he sensed it.

  He opened her robe, his hand moving across her thigh.

  She bit her lip and caught her breath.

  His hand moved between her legs, his finger easing into her while he lowered his head, molding his lips to hers.

  Frantically she pressed her lips against his, fighting to bring him closer, needing to feel him inside her. She wanted to forget the sadness that swamped her. She wanted only to feel the wonderful things he could do to her. Her hands slid down his stomach, undoing his trousers.

  He left her only long enough to undress; then he moved into position and gripped her hips, plunging into her in a rage of passion.

  She touched her lips to his and took his groan into her mouth. She closed her eyes and turned her body over to his masterful lovemaking.

  Afterwards, neither of them spoke. His hand tangled in her hair, and he lifted her face, kissing her, plunging his tongue into her mouth.

  She whimpered, her body ready to receive him again. He carried her to the bed and lowered her onto the mattress. He could see her passion-glazed eyes in the moonlight, and he knew she was trying to think of anything but her father. She was not offering her body to him out of passion—she was giving herself to him out of desperation.

  He spread her legs and eased into her, watching her eyes widen and then drift slowly closed. He plunged deeper and whispered in her ear, thinking her anger would be better than her grief. “I married you for this.”

  Her hips struck back at him. “Then take it—it’s yours!”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Wade was awake to watch the sunrise advance into the dark corners of the cabin, washing them in a soft light. He glanced at the golden head resting on his arm and studied her as she slept. He had hurt her badly last night. He had demanded a response from her body while he told her of her father’s death. Could he have done anything worse?

  He touched his lips to her cheek, wanting to hold her until her hurt went away and she could think about her father without crying.

  She sighed in her sleep and nestled closer to him. He found himself wanting to possess her thoughts, her mind as well as her body. He had never cared about what was in a woman’s mind until he met her.

  Before now, he had always preferred to sleep alone. But he found he liked waking up with her beside him. His gaze wandered to her breasts; one was pressed against his chest, the other he touched softly. Like a fist slamming into his heart, a strong possessiveness hit him. She belonged to him, and no one was going to hurt her again.

  He watched her eyes flutter and her breathing become shallow. She was slowly waking. He dreaded the moment she would remember that her father was dead. He also dreaded the accusations that she would probably hurl at him again. He deserved whatever she said to him.

  She stretched like a sleek cat, and blood rushed through his body. He had never felt with any other woman what he had found with Caroline. He wanted her even now, but he would have to harness his passion for her sake. He was accustomed to that where she was concerned.

  Caroline was just coming out of a deep sleep, and she groaned, dreaming that she had been riding astride a horse on her way to San Antonio. She was sore, and her body ached.

  “No more liniment,” she said, her eyes snapping open at the sound of her own voice.

  The first sight she saw was soft golden eyes, staring back at her. “Non, mon amour, what is aching now cannot be helped with liniment.”

  She remembered now.

  His hand moved down to gently massage the place where she really ached. “The pain will pass very soon.” There was sorrow in his gaze. “I should not have been so greedy for your body. Forgive me.”

  Her hand slid up his arm, and she brought his head down to her. “You did this to me.”

  He rubbed his mouth against hers. “I am guilty, sweetheart. And I have a great need to have you again. But I will control that need.” He muttered under his breath, “I have done it before with you.”

  “Have you?”

  “You have no idea.”

  “When?”

  His lips skimmed hers. “Every time you wiggled that beautiful body at me.”

  She punched his shoulder. “I never did that.”

  “You were born to please a man. To please me.”

  He had no clothing on, and now in the light of day, she could see the entire lengt
h of his magnificent body. He was lean and tall. Black hair curled on the leg that touched hers. “I like the way you look.”

  He grinned. “Do you now?” He was doing some looking of his own, and she realized that she wasn’t wearing anything either. She reached for the sheet, and he caught her hand. “It would be a shame to hide such beauty, especially from your husband.”

  She was shy, thinking about her outrageous actions of the night before. “What must you think of me?”

  He turned her so her body fit against his. “I think you are the perfect wife for me. Most women are taught to act as if they do not like the intimacy between husband and wife, but you are not ashamed of your feelings, and you have delighted me with your honesty.” His mouth gently touched her lips, and he kissed along her throat. “Never change. Always show your true feelings with me.”

  Caroline suddenly remembered about her father, and she pushed against him. Sliding out of bed, she recovered her robe from the floor and pushed her arms through the sleeves. “I need to find out what happened to my father. Will you help me find out how he died?”

  “Of course I will. I expect Nate to be in New Orleans by the time we get back. He will have more information for us at that time.”

  Wade pulled on his trousers and shirt, tucking the shirttail into his waistband. “We have many things to talk about, Caroline.”

  She dropped down at the vanity, picked up a hairbrush, and began taking her anger and sadness out on her hair. She tugged at the tangles, pulling out strands of hair while tears washed down her cheeks. “How could I let you make love to me while my father lies dead?”

  “You needed me last night, and I knew that.” He sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled on his boots. “I am going to help you find your father’s killer. Remember, I am good at hunting the guilty.”

  “And the innocent,” she reminded him, tangling her hair in the brush. In her frustration she yanked harder.

  He took the brush from her and gently unwound her hair from the bristles. Then with long strokes he brushed the golden mass. “Caroline,” he said, meeting her gaze in the mirror, “you will need to trust me and tell me everything you think I should know.”

  There was a commotion at the door, and Wade went to see who was there. A waiter greeted him with the breakfast cart. Since Caroline was not dressed, Wade rolled the cart into the room. He uncovered the serving dishes, and then held a chair out for her. “They have sent us every kind of breakfast delicacy known to man.” He placed her plate in front of her. “What takes your fancy?”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “You always say that.” Without ceremony, he filled her plate and handed her a fork. “You must eat to keep up your strength.”

  She gazed at him through half-closed eyelids. “You used up almost all my strength last night.”

  He laughed. “And it took all my strength to satisfy you,” he stated, raising his dark brow and taking a bite out of an apple muffin.

  Her spontaneous laughter took him by surprise. “Are you likely to collapse at such times?”

  “Very likely.” He swept her onto his lap and urged her to take a bite of his muffin. Before he was finished enticing her, she had eaten a boiled egg and a slice of ham and drunk a cup of tea, while sitting on his lap. When he offered her a biscuit, she shook her head.

  “I can’t eat another bite.”

  He slowly turned her around so she was straddling his legs and brought her head forward so he could have access to her lips.

  At first she was hesitant, but his hand went beneath her robe and settled over one of her breasts. Her eyes closed, and she gave him her lips.

  She was fairly panting by the time he raised his head. Her hand slid over the fasteners on his trousers, and she opened them while he watched her with impatience.

  He almost shot out of the chair when she pushed the material aside and touched him intimately, feeling him swell in her hand.

  He lifted her in his arms and murmured something in French. He tossed her on the bed, shed his clothing, and went to her.

  “What did you say?” she asked, meeting his flaming gaze.

  “I was giving thanks that I found the only woman in the world who could satisfy my hunger,” he muttered, jerking her forward and pressing his mouth against hers.

  It was late that evening when Caroline stood at the railing watching the shoreline in the distance. She wondered if she would ever be able to think about her honeymoon without remembering her father’s death. The two were linked together in her mind, and they always would be.

  “What made you choose the Cotton Maid for our honeymoon?”

  “I had a very good reason. But you may not agree with me.”

  “And that was?”

  “You could not very well leave me if you decided that you wanted to swim away. The San Antonio River cannot be compared with the Mississippi River.”

  She smiled up at him. “As I recall, it was you who went swimming in the San Antonio River—I was merely drowning.”

  He tucked her hand into the fold of his arm. “So you were.”

  Her thoughts turned inward. If he had known her better, he would have recognized the danger signs in her eyes.

  “You should have told me about my father before the wedding, Wade.”

  “I may have been wrong in that.”

  “We should not have married.”

  He glanced down at her. “I do not agree. I will make you happy, Caroline.”

  She thought of how angry Brace would be when he heard about the marriage. Brace was not right in his mind, and he had been obsessed with her from the beginning. He would come after Wade with a rage that could only be guessed at. Even Jonathan would not be safe from Brace’s need for revenge upon her.

  Wade noticed that he was drawing several envious glances from some of the male passengers. Instead of being pleased that they admired Caroline, he felt irritated. He imagined he had just felt the first pangs of jealousy. He pulled her closer to him, and his cold stare settled on the man next to Caroline. The man abruptly left without Caroline ever being aware of the drama that had just played out around her.

  “The deed is done,” she said, not realizing she had spoken aloud. “How much longer until we are back in New Orleans?”

  “Three days.”

  She shivered as a cool breeze drifted off the water. He removed his coat and put it around her shoulders. “Are you ready to go to our cabin and listen to what I have to say?”

  She nodded. “Yes, I am.”

  Moments later, he sat at the table with a pen and paper before him. “Let’s make a list of your father’s enemies.”

  “I am not aware that he had any enemies.”

  “What about Brace?”

  “Well, yes. He was my first thought when you told me about my father’s murder. If there was such a list, I would put him at the top. But Brace never does anything without a reason. What would he gain by killing my father?”

  “That I cannot say, but nonetheless, Brace stands alone on our list of suspects.”

  “It has to be him.” Anger surged through her, and she wanted to hit out at someone. No one but she could bring Brace to justice. It was a debt she owed her father and Michael.

  “What if I inadvertently led Brace to your father?” Wade asked, voicing the question that had nagged at him ever since he’d heard of Mr. Richmond’s death.

  “In what way?”

  “I do not think Brace Duncan intended for me to question your father. He directed me instead to the Lowell family in Savannah to ask my questions.”

  “But you went to my father first, didn’t you?”

  “I like to be thorough.”

  “I have often wondered what the Lowell family must have thought when they returned home and found me gone. You see, they were out of town when one of Brace’s hirelings broke into the house. I barely escaped with my life that night. I had very little money, but it was enough to get me to Texas.”

  “The f
amily was unsure what had happened to you. They found you gone, and your room in a shambles. They thought you might have met with foul play. They alerted the authorities, but no one could find you.”

  “I’m sorry about that. But I could not write and tell them the truth. Brace leaves nothing to chance when he wants something, and if they had known where I was, he would have done anything to make them talk. It probably saved their lives when they reported me missing to the authorities.”

  “And what does he want from you exactly?”

  “He wants Michael’s money, and he wants me.”

  “He cannot have you.”

  “If I thought he would leave me alone and never bother me again, I would consider giving him the money.”

  Wade could almost understand the man’s obsession for Caroline: she was beautiful, intelligent, and the most desirable woman he had ever known. He had been drawn to her by just looking at her tintype. But he said none of that to Caroline.

  “That will not stop a man like him. Looking back, I should have seen his obsession with you,” he said.

  Caroline sighed. “At least we know where he is for the moment. I don’t think he has found out about us yet.”

  “He will. And when he comes, I will be waiting for him.”

  “If I could only talk to his mother, Lilly, she might help me. I know she is afraid of Brace. But she helped me escape him the first time.”

  “I do not want you involved in this. It is too dangerous. I want you at the house, where you will be protected.”

  She gave him a disgruntled glance. “I have had just about enough of you protecting me!”

  He shrugged as if her outburst meant nothing to him. “You will just have to endure it.”

  She seated herself on a chair, her back straight, her hands folded in an elegant arch. “The estate Brace and his mother live on belongs to me now,” she said in irritation. “It isn’t that I want any part of it. I just don’t like Michael’s killer living in his house.”

  He was tapping the pen on the table, his eyes on the paper before him. “Hmm,” he said as if he had not heard her.