Ford, Jessie

by Remember Me Love

  "I'm ready to go now. I've been away too long. I have very little stomach for this whole affair. It's much dirtier business than I thought."

  "You thought Marshall's murder was a good beginning?" he inquired harshly, annoyed with her unrealistic attitude. "You knew from the beginning you weren't going on a picnic, Louisa. Didn't you hear anything I said to you?"

  She pulled away from him. "Perhaps not."

  "And speaking of stomach," he said, stroking her belly, his fingers pushing gently against a slight but definite roundness in her firm flesh. "Are you pregnant?" He moved his fingers to explore the fullness of her breasts, then caressed her cheek, waiting for a reply.

  Only a few minutes ago she might have easily told him the truth, but the force and sarcasm of his last words still stung her, and though her flesh began again to succumb to him, she looked back at him and said effortlessly, "No, Aaron, I'm not pregnant.'"

  He moved his hands over her body again, lingering at the slight roundness of her belly. "Not for lack of effort," he smiled.

  "I have to get lucky, sometime," she said back to him. "The cards have to go in my favor once in a while." She looked at him coldly. "I don't want your baby, Aaron. Not in these circumstances. Not in this sewer."

  "And where did you conceive your last?" he frowned. "The beds may have been clean, but as I recall, the stench, and the rats scurrying about were not too different from the ones who cluster under this roof."

  "How would you know?"

  "How do I know? You heard what I told Emma. I was under the same roof as you were on a number of occasions. I watched and longed for you in the shadows, while you lusted after my brother, Louisa."

  "You make me sound like a slut, when you know it wasn't like that at all," she bristled, trying to pull herself from his very tight grip.

  Aaron scowled, releasing her. "You could do worse than . . . we've taken to quarreling a lot lately―you sure you're not pregnant?"

  "Very sure," she lied.

  He stared at her, his look lingering and hard, sweeping slowly over the length of her still slim body. His voice was cold, even bitter as he said, "It would be a shame to disfigure you with my child. I enjoy you too much just the way you are. But be sure no one else leaves his mark on you, Louisa."

  "You've nothing to lose any sleep over!" she snapped, rising from the bed. "No one else will leave his mark on me. Just be careful where you leave your calling card!"

  "Marguerite plays far too many games of chance to point the finger at me."

  "Perhaps there's safety in numbers," she laughed derisively. ''Maybe I should sit at her feet and take instruction," she flashed, her voice teasing and seductive.

  "Do, and the mark I'll leave on you will be black and blue."

  "Aaron? Why, I think you want to be the only rooster in the yard!"

  "The only one in your nest anyway," he replied, pulling her into bed again. "Goddamnit, Louisa, shut up for a while. Whenever we speak to each other lately we end up brawling. God knows, I didn't intend for the morning to start this way," he added, offering as close to an apology as she knew she'd get from him.

  She smiled wickedly at him, rolling onto her back. "What you meant to say was, 'Lie back, close your mouth, wait patiently,''' pretending to follow those instructions.

  ''Precisely,'' he said, forcing his mouth on hers roughly. "And if I haven't already, I'm going to leave my mark on you this morning!" and he went after her, and she after him, as if they were both determined to have him do so.

  Chapter Sixty-seven

  THE tension between Aaron and Louisa seemed to lessen. Louisa tried desperately to accept Aaron's alliance with Marguerite philosophically, trusting the tenderness of his embrace spoke more truth than any other act. In spite of small voices that cautioned her, Louisa gave herself to Aaron wanting to believe what she felt for him held sufficient promise. He made it easy for her, seeming to make extra time for her, seeming to see less of Marguerite than he had.

  For her part, Louisa now went out infrequently with Alex. She spent a good deal of her time cloistered in her room, or on one of the patios, drawing scenes from her memories, recounting her pleasures and her pain, hiding from herself none of the joys and few of the nightmares. Often, at night, she and Aaron shuffled through this growing portfolio of sketches. He laughed and, sometimes, cried with her as she turned the pages of her life. The pain in her heart and the occasional pain inside her womb drove her to reflect on her agonies. She concentrated on that aspect of her life, hoping to be done with it, to empty her spirit, to open herself fully to peace and, hopefully, love. And whenever Aaron was beside her, his body connected with hers, Louisa trusted his heart was hers as well.

  She expected to go south in a month and the prospects gave her more joy than she could contain. But she was brought up short late one afternoon as she was leaving the dressmaker's and met Marguerite, who was on her way to consult Mrs. Stevens.

  "Ah, Louisa, you must come with me to San Francisco next month," she offered again. "Your sweet Marshall will approve, I'm sure. It will be a great diversion for you. Peter will fete us grandly. What do you say?"

  Louisa barely heard her, staring in disbelief at the woman's eye-catching necklace. She felt weak, gripping the white fence railing surrounding Mrs. Stevens' little yard. Marguerite hurriedly got out of her carriage and came toward her. "Louisa, are you all right? Where's Samuel?" she asked, looking about for the black man. "You've turned quite pale."

  "What a lovely necklace, Marguerite," Louisa said quietly, ignoring the woman's concern for her health. Her mind whirled and raced, knowing even as she considered the possibility of a duplicate necklace, there could be no other like it. Marshall had purchased the pearl with her in mind, and he had designed the swirl of diamonds that surrounded it. Louisa had long ago memorized every detail of this most precious of her possessions. For her, it was the symbol of their loving union.

  Marguerite cocked her head a little, and looked slyly at Louisa, touching the large tear-shaped pearl hanging so decorously at her throat. "From an admirer. You know me, Louisa," she smiled brilliantly. "I'd find life too dull without a few flirtations."

  "Perhaps that's what's wrong with mine, it's devoid of proper excitement," Louisa said drily with amazing calm.

  "Well, then, come to San Francisco with me. We'll do more than shop, if you like," she smiled. "Are you sure you're steady on your feet now?"

  "Very. My head is suddenly clearer than it's been in some time."

  "Good. Then we'll expect you at seven tomorrow." Marguerite patted Louisa's arm, and smiled innocently, immediately entering Mrs. Stevens' little shop.

  Louisa had told Samuel she would meet him at the inn, and she bolted, there, breathless when she arrived. He immediately helped her into the carriage, noting her agitation and high color. "Take me to the shipping agent," she demanded first thing, to his surprise. She ignored his look and made her demand a second time. Louisa tried to book immediate passage to San Diego, but found it would be weeks before she could make suitable arrangements. When she got into the carriage again, she sat silently for some minutes, then called on Samuel to assist her.

  "You said when I first met you that I should feel free to ask you for help if ever I needed it."

  He nodded. "I did; and I meant it."

  "Can you arrange for someone to escort me to San Diego?"

  "When?"

  "As soon as possible. Tomorrow."

  "I doubt I could make arrangements that quickly. Mr. Hudson hasn't spoken to me."

  She stiffened. "He's not making the arrangements. I am. I've not consulted him," she bristled.

  "I see."

  "No, you don't see. This is not his affair, not his decision to make. Will you help me, or not?" There was a wildness in her eyes he'd never seen before.

  "Yes, Mrs. Hudson, I will help you, if you are determined, and you appear to be just that."

  "Thank you, Samuel! Let's go back to the vipers' nest, now!" she ordered. "
Wait! Where are my trunks stored?"

  "In the shed behind the greenhouse."

  "Take me there first." In response, Samuel hurried the horses home. Louisa shivered under her heavy cloak. Samuel lit a lantern and showed her into the shed, leading her to the trunks which were stacked neatly to one side. "I want to open the one on the bottom of the pile. Also, I'll want that one, and the one on top, brought up to my room immediately."

  Samuel shifted the trunks, opening the one she requested. Quickly she removed the drawer and maneuvered the hidden panel, reaching for the velvet pouch she'd hidden there when she packed the luggage in San Diego. She sucked in her breath when she found it, but knew instantly it was empty of what should be there. Louisa opened the pouch with icy fingers. In the necklace's place she found a square leather envelope with a seal on the flap. Inside was a letter written on heavy bond, signed and sealed with the same insignia. "God damn you," she whispered, slipping the envelope and its letter into the pocket of her cloak. "I'll walk back to the house," she said. "Please bring up the trunks I mentioned."

  She didn't hear Samuel's reply, nor did she see the path she walked on. Storming through the doors of the house, she was grateful she encountered no one. Once in her room, she rang for Loo Kim, and ordered her brusquely about when she arrived. "My trunks will be arriving in a few minutes," she began. "Pack everything in that wardrobe," she pointed to one of the tall chests, "and all the things in these bureaus. The rest will wait till I've a definite departure time." Louisa went to the desk, and pulled out pen and ink, and began writing. "Get me some tea before you begin." The girl skirted away, letting Samuel in with one of the trunks. "You won't forget what you promised?" Louisa asked him.

  "Of course not," he replied as he rested the trunk on the floor in the center of the room.

  "I'm counting on you."

  With his promise, Louisa turned away abruptly and began to draft a hasty letter to Emma, advising her to expect her within days, telling her she was making arrangements now, and would let her know the details when she had made her final plans. "Your son is very well indeed," she concluded tersely, and signed her name. "The bastard!" she muttered, sealing the envelope.

  When Samuel returned with the second trunk, she gave him the letter and made him swear he would put it in the hands of a trusted messenger, insisting the note should arrive as soon as possible. Loo Kim returned with a tray, and quickly began to do as Louisa had requested. While she drank her tea, Louisa tried to calm the murderous feelings that welled within her but found she had little success. She closed her eyes, again feeling a slight cramping in her abdomen. But it didn't begin to compare with the other pain she felt, and she suspected she would survive it, though the ordeal of it was yet to be faced. This other pain, the one she confronted when she saw her most precious possession, Marshall's loving gift to her, on Marguerite's throat, this pain would always be with her.

  Chapter Sixty-eight

  LOUISA tried to relax, to let the fury and tension recede from her a little. She felt tricked and betrayed and stupid. She'd thought she and Aaron had reached an understanding, trusted again that he loved her, knew she loved him without a doubt. Louisa had even believed she could tolerate his affair with Marguerite, though the extent of his involvement was repugnant to her. But quickly her charity had been shattered. Where had she learned, where was it recorded in her diaries, where was it promised that loving and trusting was worthwhile, sensible, or sane behavior?

  Louisa watched Loo Kim carefully carry out her instructions, packing her beautiful gowns away. The things being packed now could be sent to her whenever a ship was due to go to San Diego. She would travel with only the necessities, and, of course, her jewels. Surely, for the right price, Samuel Davis would find someone willing to escort her. She would not stay under any circumstances. Yet, in spite of her feelings about Aaron, she did not want to endanger the successful outcome of his mission. "I've invested too much―time away from Rachel, and, God, revenge for Marshall's life means something!" She glanced around the large, beautifully furnished room and fleetingly thought how appropriate cleansing by fire would be for this house as well. She closed her eyes in the early evening and envisioned the act accomplished, feeling enormous satisfaction, a sensation from her past.

  "Enough daydreaming. What's going on?" Aaron asked pleasantly, obviously puzzled, turning up the lamp on the table next to her. "It'll be a month before we leave. Aren't you getting ready a little early?"

  Louisa had not heard him enter the room, and at his voice her eyes flew open, her look alerting him instantly he was about to deal with a venomous animal. In one motion Louisa flew out of the chair toward Loo Kim. "Leave us alone. I'll call you when I want you," she ordered crossly, waiting for the girl to leave, staring at Aaron with unmistakable loathing.

  "God damn you, Aaron! How dare you? How could you? What right do you have to give my possessions away?" She flew at him with insane disregard for his strength and capacity for violence. She knew he'd killed at least one man, and she'd sometimes sensed the volcano beneath his exterior, but reason escaped her in her anger.

  Aaron caught her easily, holding her at bay. "Hold on!" he commanded, resisting her as she struck hopelessly at him, and she struggled all the harder, kicking at him, her tears falling fast, her words becoming choked in her rage. Quickly he twisted one of her arms behind her back, pulling her against him fiercely. He increased the pressure of his arm around her, lashing her against him until she could no longer breathe. When he sensed she was subdued he lessened his grip minutely. "Jesus, you're a hellcat!"

  The instant she found the strength and breath, she tried to pull away from him, and he only tightened his grip once again. "Give up yet?" he demanded, crushing her a little harder, and she was soon quiet, panting, defeated but not conquered. She couldn't speak, and she gulped in air and began to cough convulsively. Suddenly he turned her loose and she collapsed as he shoved her away from him.

  While she regained her breath, he removed his coat, all the while watching her, flinging it over one of the yawning wardrobe doors.

  "Where the hell do you think you're going?" he demanded.

  "Home," she whispered when he strode to her, grabbing her wrists, dragging her to her feet, insisting she answer him.

  "What makes you think so?"

  "I can't stay. You've spit on me for the last time," she cried. "How could you? How could you give my necklace to her? Oh God, you're such a bastard," she screamed, sobbing wildly, trying to cover her face with hands Aaron still held tightly at the wrists. Then he let go of her hands, grabbing her tightly against him with one hand, the other shoved roughly into her flowing hair, slowly pulling her head back until she looked up at him awkwardly, her crying all but ceased. Her face was very wet from tears, and he watched her intently, waiting for her breath to return, feeling the tension of her body increase the longer he held her, his own tension quickly shifting downward with the pressure of his body against hers.

  "You will not leave here!" he ordered with a certain indisputable finality in his voice, his deep brown eyes flashing. His voice was hoarse, and, though a whisper, it reverberated in the stillness of the room. "Louisa, I promised you, I'd do whatever was necessary in this charade. Exchanging one of your baubles for information was included in the possibilities," he reminded her heatedly.

  Louisa had not been afraid of him since he had identified himself to her that night long ago in San Diego. But now fear crept along her spine. Even so, she was nearly mesmerized, his eyes boring into her, penetrating her deeply as his body often had, and swiftly he began to approach her in a more familiar way, with urgency and compulsion, trying to overcome her, to seduce her to his various needs. She was acutely aware of the hardness and pressure of his body as his mouth closed over hers with eagerness and violence, as if by force he could take her will and bend it to his own. Louisa struggled against him, yet feared she would lose―he would eventually win out―her body would give assent to this power he had over he
r. Her body would not deny her want of him though she raged against him. "I will leave you," she swore weakly. "I cannot stay."

  His mood was violent and he pursued her in that fashion, ripping as well as undoing her soft garments, holding her forcefully in his grasp. Then he stopped his harshness. His fingers, which had just bruised and punished her, held her gently, softly stroking her nakedness. "I love you, Louisa, in spite of my silence, in spite of the ugly things I've said. Please," he begged in a moment of tenderness, "you must not leave me―I need you."

  Louisa's mind tumbled after his words, shocked by what he said. The unexpectedness of his approach was reflected in her eyes, which widened and became black, dangerous pools. He felt her trembling in his now gentle embrace. How long she had waited and longed to hear him say he loved her! And now his words fell on her like blows. Louisa's face became flushed, and her body raged with heat. "You would say so―anything―to keep me here!" she spat at him like a cat cornered, and for the moment unsurpassed hatred escaped from her into the scant space between them. "You use and lie and betray―whatever means suit your end―and you expect me to bend to your confession of love like a simple fool!"

  She laughed at herself sarcastically. "Oh, I understand how you might think so," she whispered venomously against him as he returned his hands to the luxurious softness of her hair, crushing her more tightly against him. Even as she railed, he felt his desire for her, and he was committed to keeping her by him. "You've had your way so easily with me from the beginning!" Only fury kept her tears in check as she pushed strenuously against him in what she knew was a futile effort to escape as she read his body and his desire to consume her and impose his will on her. "You'll no doubt have your way with me now," she seethed as she struggled, feeling his wet mouth on her throat, his kisses soon descending to the swelling of her breasts, but whatever you do, however I respond, I will not stay one minute longer than I am forced to!" she raged.