Shades of Honor

by Wendy Lindstrom

  “Jesus, Radford.”

  “I puked the first time I did it.”

  Kyle caught Radford’s wrist and squeezed it. “I shouldn't have asked. I’m sorry.”

  But Radford barely heard him. He was seeing the bloody faces of his friends, hearing the shots and screams, smelling the acrid smoke. And he was running through the trees...

  “Radford?”

  He jerked, his mind crashing back to the present as he ducked Kyle’s concerned stare. Radford scraped his wet palms across his trouser legs, reminding himself it was sweat and not blood he was rubbing off. “I think I'd like another ale.”

  “I think two would be better.” Kyle flagged Patrick over with the drinks and shoved two of them in front of Radford.

  Radford downed the first one, picked up the second and brought it to his lips. It hovered there a moment before he returned it, untouched, to the bar. “I could use a lighter conversation if you don't mind.”

  “Actually, I’d appreciate it, too.”

  The silence stretched until Radford found himself groping for a topic. “So is Evelyn excited about the house?” he asked, speaking the first thought to enter his head. As usual, she was foremost in his mind, but he hoped Kyle hadn’t noticed.

  “Hard to tell. She’s worried about being away from William. We’ve asked him to live with us, but he’s determined to stay in his own house. If he does, it’ll be difficult for Evelyn to care for him after we’re married, which is why I want her out of the livery. It won’t be long before she’s got her hands full with William and a baby.”

  Radford took a long drink from his mug to cool the burning sensation that started creeping up from his stomach. Of course she’d be having Kyle’s baby. She’d be sleeping in his bed, making love with him, having his children.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” Kyle asked.

  He finished his drink and banged the mug back on the bar. “I need another ale.”

  “I’m ready, too.” Kyle raised his mug and signaled for the bartender to bring another round. “I haven’t thanked you yet for running the livery for me, but I do appreciate it, Radford. If not for you, I would have suggested that William sell it.”

  “Evelyn would have shot you.”

  Kyle laughed. “She’d have been upset, but she would have forgotten about it once she had a baby to keep her busy.”

  Evelyn loved the livery. She needed to be there with her horses, whether she had ten kids or none at all. Marriage had no bearing on her dedication to her father or her business, and it baffled Radford that Kyle didn't understand that. The Evelyn he knew would find a way to have a family and the livery. In fact, he'd wager his share of the mill on it.

  o0o

  Hours later Radford climbed the porch steps, which was usually an easy thing to do, but tonight his feet refused to cooperate without considerable thought as to their proper function. By the time he managed the top step, he needed to brace himself against a pillar to keep from crashing through the front door.

  It wasn't that he was intoxicated, really. His thinking was clear enough. It was just those damn feet of his that had suddenly developed a mind of their own. In fact, he was quite proud of himself. Any attraction he had felt for Evelyn had vanished into the white foam of his mug. The more he drank, the less often his mind wandered back to her, so he drank enough to chase her thoroughly from his thoughts like any good brother would do.

  Kyle deserved his allegiance, especially since he was such a damn good drinking partner. Radford chuckled, remembering how Duke and Boyd staggered from the bar in defeat and he and Kyle had taunted them for being too young to hold their barley. But Kyle's pathetic attempts to mount his horse had Radford gasping with hilarity and stumbling along the boardwalk like an idiot. Those burly arms of Patrick's had come in handy after all. Too bad he wasn't here to open this damned door.

  The door played tricks on Radford; moving left, then right, then left. Radford straightened, took a fortifying breath, and eyed the screen door. He watched a moment, timing its movements, then lunged for the knob. His hand hit the wood frame with a resounding crack and slid upward offering him no cushion as his side slammed into the steel handle.

  He yelped and staggered back. Pain spread through his side and he saw a lovely vision of an angel in a thin white gown with gorgeous black hair flowing past her hips. The damned door handle must have punctured his side and killed him! Radford gripped his ribs, waiting to hit the porch floor, but before he had a chance to keel over, the angel clutched his arm.

  That’s when he realized it was Evelyn, and that she was standing before him in her nightclothes. Jarred from his stupor, Radford panicked, knowing he was in no condition to resist temptation tonight.

  “Are you all right?” she asked, her soft voice filled with concern.

  Radford didn’t want her concern. He wanted her to go back inside the house and lock the damned door. His thinking was too scrambled from alcohol, and his body too needy to resist temptation.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  He’d just play drunk. Hell, he was drunk, so if he acted despicable enough, or just plain crazy, maybe she’d go back in the house and leave him alone.

  “What are you doing?” Evelyn asked, wondering why Radford was stumbling around on the porch. She had heard him when he first climbed the steps then listened for him to come inside. But after several minutes of his thumping, she decided she’d better see if he needed help, which he obviously did.

  He squinted at her then blinked twice with great exaggeration. “Who are you?” he asked, listing far left then tottering back to center.

  “Radford, what have your brothers done to you?”

  “It wasn't their fault,” he said belligerently.

  Her laughter seemed to annoy him because he gave her an adorable frown. Even his lip curled a bit and Evelyn felt the urge to touch it. Oh, he was delightful like this. God forbid anyone should be traveling by at this time of night and see her on the porch in her nightrail, because she wasn’t about to go inside. This was a side of Radford that her curiosity wouldn’t let her leave unexplored.

  He glared at her. “You can afford to laugh. You're an angel, but I...well, I’m no good.”

  There was something in his confession that tripped Evelyn's heart. Whether he was drunk or not, there was pain in his voice and she wondered what caused it. Maybe now that he’d dropped his guard, she could discover what he kept hidden behind those golden eyes of his. Her conscience hollered No fair, but she turned a deaf ear.

  “Why would you think that, Radford?”

  “You should know. You’re an angel, aren’t you?”

  “I'm Evelyn Tucker and I have more faults than you could name.”

  “Evelyn wears pants.” He stared purposefully at her legs. Evelyn looked down then stepped quickly out of the light.

  “Don’t be rude.” She was thankful he was drunk and unlikely to remember.

  “Well, she does,” he insisted, “and she has a compaszh-nate nature,” he said, slurring the words.

  Evelyn giggled. “A what?”

  “Her eyes are deep green...and her hair...” He leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes. He spoke slowly and so softly that Evelyn had to move closer to hear him. “Her hair is the color of midnight in February. It's the kind of hair that makes a man want to feel it on his face.” He cupped his hands as though he was holding something precious and fragile and slowly raised them to his face. He smoothed his palms across his cheeks then sighed in disappointment.

  “I like her hair,” he whispered, and Evelyn felt the caress as surely as if he'd touched her.

  Her heart jumped and her neck tingled and she thought of touching him then, just once. Just to see what his stubbled chin felt like. But she clutched her hands behind her back instead.

  Radford opened his eyes and they were accusing. “I thought angels had white hair. How come yours is black?”

  “Oh, Radford, come sit down before you fal
l over.” She took his hand and tugged gently.

  “No!” He stared at her then squinted and rubbed his forehead as though trying to clear the alcohol from his brain.

  “Come on,” she said, directing him to a high-armed, cushioned chair that wouldn't allow him to fall from the sides.

  “Dammit all.” He clenched his fists and collapsed into the chair.

  “Why did you drink so much?”

  He drew a deep breath and let it rush out. When his eyes met hers, they seemed clearer, more focused. “I needed to.” He sank lower in the seat and rested his head against the back. “Go to bed.”

  “You need help getting up the stairs.”

  “I’m staying here. Go to bed.”

  She was silent a minute, studying him, wishing he’d open his eyes. “I don’t want to,” she said quietly.

  His hand snaked out and pulled her onto his lap. She landed with a startled gasp, but he hooked an arm around her waist and drew her close, his nose an inch from hers. His face was so near her own that Evelyn could see the shadow of his whiskers and smell the alcohol on his breath. As she lay there in his arms, all else ceased to matter, for he filled her senses so completely it left her breathless.

  “Look at this.” He held up his trembling hand for her inspection. “I’m not safe right now.”

  Without thinking, Evelyn wrapped her fingers around his. “Relax, Radford. You’ve just had too much to drink,” she said.

  He squeezed his eyes shut. “You have two seconds to get off my lap and go inside.”

  The intensity in his voice scared her, but the feel of his body made it impossible for her to push away.

  “One...” His voice was quiet, serious, his eyes open and locked on hers.

  Blood pounded through her veins and her stomach tensed, but she didn’t move.

  “Two...”

  “I want to stay,” she whispered.

  He gripped her chin. “Go, dammit.”

  She shook her head.

  “You’re making a mistake.” He glared at her, his eyes fierce. “Last chance,” he warned, but Evelyn didn’t move.

  She wanted him to kiss her, and when he crushed his lips to hers, he didn't have to ask her to open her mouth. She craved one touch from him to know what he felt like. She wanted to feel his lips and his tanned face that she now held between her hands. She wanted to touch the cheeks that hollowed intermittently beneath her palms and the tongue that stroked her own. She wanted to hear the groan rolling up from his chest.

  A flame of white heat rushed through her limbs and she could not get close enough to him. He smelled of alcohol and cologne and cigar and it intoxicated her as thoroughly as if she'd been matching him drink for drink, and there was not the slightest chance she could deny herself the opportunity to finally feel like a woman.

  Just once, she promised, twining her arms around his neck, reveling in the exhilarating experience. Her side tingled where his hand roved and the feeling moved slowly over her hips as his palm trailed downward. Her entire body was alive and reacting. Every nuance of pleasure that rippled along her spine, from where his lips caressed hers to where his hand rested upon her leg, was now gathering in sweet agony between her thighs.

  So this was a monkeyshine!

  She had no idea what to do with the glorious feelings racing through her body, but she wasn’t ready to let them go. She stroked his hard shoulders, wanting...wanting something outside her understanding, but in that moment Evelyn no longer needed to know. She only wanted to feel. She wanted to touch him, to feel joyously alive in her own skin. For the first time in her life, she felt conscious. Everything inside her lifted, blossomed, soared as the blood rushed through her veins beneath Radford’s seeking hands.

  o0o

  Though the alcohol had affected his speech and balance, Radford’s mind had cleared enough that he knew what he was doing. He was ending his attraction to Evelyn once and for all by proving to himself that kissing her was no more thrilling or special than kissing any other woman.

  But to his shock, the kiss fanned Radford’s craving to a blaze of hot need that he couldn’t restrain. Whether it was the alcohol or his intense reaction to Evelyn, Radford felt himself spiraling out of control. He shuddered when he slipped his hand beneath her nightrail and felt the satiny skin of her thigh. Her moan inflamed him as she lay across his heated body, and her skin was so warm and smooth that he craved the feel of her unencumbered by clothes. The thought of her against him, beneath him, made Radford’s blood rush. Just one more touch. He’d send her away then.

  He reached for the shoulder of her gown, but Evelyn’s fingers curled over his. Radford hesitated, thinking she was stopping him, but she tugged the fabric off her shoulder. The sound of buttons hitting the floor was like getting a glass of cold water tossed in his face. Radford tried to pull back, to stop himself from going any further, but Evelyn’s exposed breasts fed his need. Perfect, pink-nippled breasts mesmerized him, drew him, compelled him to lower his mouth even when his conscience was begging him not to.

  o0o

  The feeling of Radford’s palm between her thighs jolted Evelyn back to reality. She grabbed his hand and broke their kiss, but his passion-glazed eyes told Evelyn she’d encouraged him too far. “We can’t do this, Radford. It’s wrong. What we're doing is wrong,” she said, fearing she wouldn't get through to his alcohol-muddled brain.

  He hovered above her, breathing raggedly, his gaze fierce, before he finally closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the chair.

  Suffering tremendous shame, Evelyn straightened her gown and cursed herself. She must be insane! How could she have done this, especially with Radford, a man who carried a full-blown war inside him, who would probably never feel settled, who was the brother of the man she’d promised to marry.

  Drowning in shame, Evelyn pushed herself to a sitting position, her palm resting on Radford’s chest for support. Though his heart pounded, the steady rise and fall beneath her hand told her he’d passed out. Evelyn felt more awake than she’d ever been in her life.

  “Radford?” she called quietly. He didn’t respond. She lifted her gaze to his handsome, sleeping face, knowing she’d taken advantage of his condition to appease her curiosity. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “You didn’t deserve this.”

  Neither did Kyle. He’d always treated her with respect and was the only person she’d ever been able to depend on. How could she have been such a slave to her curiosity that she would betray her lifelong friend?

  Riddled with shame, Evelyn slipped from Radford’s arms, anxious to run from the truth of what she’d done. Her hair caught and she turned to tug it free. The sight of Radford's fist closed around a mass of her black curls sent a rush of sympathy straight to her heart.

  She knelt before him and unwound her hair, then brushed her lips across his knuckles. “I should never have kissed you,” she whispered with deep remorse. Because now she knew there was an ocean of difference between kissing Kyle and kissing Radford.

  Chapter Eleven

  The instant Radford saw daylight, he slammed his eyes shut and pressed his fists to his temples. Slowly, he sat forward, shaking, sweating, reeling; pierced by the hurtful morning light, the crashing headache, the rebelling stomach.

  Fragments of the past evening flashed through his mind. He saw the bottom of a glass, over and over, his brothers laughing and ordering drinks, heard a woman's voice pleading... Then he remembered.

  He’d betrayed Kyle.

  Convulsed with nausea, Radford hunched over, elbows to knees, face in hands, peering blearily through his splayed fingers as he fought back the urge to vomit. A small, pearlescent type object glowed up at him from beside the chair leg, but he was forced to wait until his stomach settled before reaching down to pick it up. It was a button from Evelyn’s gown.

  “Jesus,” he whispered. He’d only wanted to kiss her then put it behind him. Instead he’d damned near made love to Evelyn on the porch.

  If only h
e hadn’t started that idiotic playacting. After all the alcohol he’d consumed last night, he’d been in no condition to think rationally. The alcohol had removed the filter between his brain and his mouth and he’d said things to Evelyn that should never have left his lips. Radford pinched the bridge of his nose. He’d talked about her eyes, and said he loved her hair. What a damn fool. The instant Evelyn stepped onto the porch, he should have gone to the livery instead of acting like an inebriated ass.

  Dammit all, he should have never let Kyle talk him into getting corned to his eyebrows.

  At least Radford had had the sense to let Evelyn think he’d passed out last night. Though she’d been a willing participant in the beginning, she was mortified by her actions and shocked by his. The only compassionate way he could now handle the incident would be to let Evelyn think he didn’t remember it.

  Radford tucked the button into his pocket and scooted to the edge of the chair. With a hard push, he reached a standing position out of dire necessity and sheer determination. Though his legs were uncooperative, they were functional enough to carry him to the outhouse, which seemed an ungodly distance away. A long, long time later, he entered the livery where Evelyn was forking hay to Gus. “If there is a gun out here, please shoot me.”

  o0o

  Evelyn started at the sound of Radford’s voice, dreading the accusation she knew she’d see in his eyes. When she dared to turn around, Radford gave her a wobbly smile and braced himself against a stall while guarding his stomach with his free hand.

  “I’d wager your brothers are in the same condition,” Evelyn commented, not knowing how to begin to apologize for her unforgivable behavior.

  Radford sagged against the stall. “God, I hope so.”

  He was so pathetic it deepened her shame. By his condition this morning, Radford had definitely been too inebriated last night to know what he’d been doing. Evelyn was to blame. “I’m sorry about last night,” she said, having no idea how else to begin to apologize, but knowing she must. “I accept the blame for everything.” And she did. Never had she thought to have such an encounter with him. Or any man for that matter. She hadn't even allowed Kyle such liberties. The fact that Radford had touched her breast and thighs made her blush to her undergarments. At least Radford had the excuse of being intoxicated. She had none, other than her blasted maidenly curiosity.