• • •
“You’re a sight this morning,”
Nat’s gaze swept past Aunt Carolyn to consider his father through red-veined eyes. He hadn’t changed one bit. Though his face had thinned and his hair turned grey. His shoulders were still stocky—his body just as tall and lean. He didn’t just sit in his chair at the end of the table. He occupied it, like a kingdom.
What a pleasure it was going to be to set him straight, almost as much pleasure as witnessing his shock last night. When Nat had agreed with a mild shrug to meet his business associate’s daughter, his father had nearly toppled over backward in his chair. No doubt he’d been storing up arguments for months—bristling for a loud debate.
Fortunately, there was no need.
Right now, Nat’s scalp threatened to lift from his head.
The aroma of ham and sausage, mingling with the sweet scent of pink roses in the center of the table, caused his stomach to rebel. “I’d appreciate it if you could speak a little softer,” he requested.
“You should know better.” From the look of his father’s half smile, Nat guessed he was enjoying the spectacle.
“You got me there.” ‘No sympathy for self-inflicted illness’, his father used to say. At least this morning he’d spared him that.
“There’s nothing wrong with sowing a few wild oats now and again, Maxwell.” Aunt Carolyn turned in her chair to flash a wink of support with one dove-colored eye. “Nathan ran into some old friends last night. I expect they had a lot of catching up to do.”
Good old Aunt Carolyn, Nat could always count on her to take his part. She’d run to his defense many times when he was a child, saving him from more than a few thrashings. But he was well beyond the age of needing her protection.
He’d always wondered why she’d never married. Though not quite as pretty as his mother, she had the same pale blonde hair and gentle nature—the same husky laugh—attributes she possessed to this day. When she first came to Virginia after his mother’s death, Nat hoped she and his father would marry. It would have been a comfort after the loss of his mother. But they never did. They both seemed content, just as they were.
“Well, eat up,” his father said, not attempting to lower his voice in the least. “It’ll soak up the booze in your belly.”
Nat’s stomach heaved at the thought of gulping down runny eggs. “Coffee will do just fine.” He reached for his cup. “So when is this event you want me to get shined up for?”
Aunt Carolyn turned in her chair. “Colonel Hawthorn is holding a ball for his niece’s coming out next week. It isn’t her official debut of course, that was held in Boston. But I’m sure it will be just as grand.”
“It’s a damn good thing it isn’t tonight,” his father said. “The ladies would take one look and run for the hills.”
“Just like you hoped Heather would do, the night you went to see her?”
Aunt Carolyn’s spoon clattered against her saucer. “Your father regrets all that. Don’t you, Maxwell?”
“I can speak for myself, Carolyn.”
Nat leaned back in his chair, feeling the old bitterness rise up in his chest, remembering how his father had accused him of abandoning his family responsibilities. “Blood is thicker than water, son!” he’d said. “You’re letting me down.” It had been an agonizing time—torn between wanting to please his father and honoring his promise to Drew.
“Go ahead,” he said with a wry smile. “I’m busting at the seams to hear it. Just what did you think to accomplish by offering Heather that money? That she’d disappear?”
His father’s brow furrowed. “I was trying to help you. You stubborn ass!”
“Help me?” Nat’s voice rose in disbelief. “By paying Heather off? Even if she had managed to keep the bank from taking Larch Hollow, she couldn’t live there on her own. She had no relatives to take her in. Your money wasn’t about to change that.” Nat came to his feet, almost upsetting his chair. He wandered to the French doors, hoping the familiar sight of the sweeping lawns and Aunt Carolyn’s roses would cool his ire—make the past disappear.
“It was such a long time ago,” Aunt Carolyn pleaded. “Surely you can both put it behind you now.”
Nat turned from the window. “I understand why you did it. But how you went about it was just plain wrong.” His voice went quiet. “There were no back taxes owing on Larch Hollow. You drafted that letter yourself, hoping Heather would have no choice but to accept your offer. But you didn’t count on me arriving home when I did.”
“Maxwell?” Aunt Carolyn breathed, clearly aghast at her brother-in-law’s ruthless behavior. “Is this true?”
His father sighed. “Yes, it’s true.”
“You didn’t think I knew, did you? You thought I’d never find out. But there are certain advantages to being a spy. It’s surprising what you can find out with the right connections.” Nat laughed harshly. “I can thank you for that. Strange how things turn out, isn’t it?”
His father slammed his fist down on the table. “I did it because I love you, dammit! Heather was weak. You deserved better than that.”
“That wasn’t for you to decide!”
“That may be so. But you were so stubborn you wouldn’t listen to reason. Talking to you then was like talking to a brick wall.”
“Well, maybe I got tired of being the only chick in the nest—having everything rammed down my throat.”
“I was too hard on you.” His father’s shoulders sagged. “I know that now. But when Carolyn told me you were thinking of marrying Heather, I lost all control. I didn’t know what else to do.”
“I never said that,” Aunt Carolyn breathed. “I said I hoped he didn’t feel obligated to marry her.” Aunt Carolyn’s hand flew to her throat. “Oh dear, this is all my fault.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Carolyn,” his father barked. “It’s all my doing and I shall take full responsibility for it. I thought if her home was in danger, she’d have no choice but to take the money. Of course, it didn’t turn out that way. If I’d known you’d return home in time to rescue her, I would have never done it. Instead of helping you, I helped to bait her trap. It was a damn stupid thing to do.”
Nat gave an imperceptible nod. It wasn’t a formal apology, but knowing his father, it was as close as he’d get. He’d forgiven his father a long time ago. He just needed to hear it from his own lips.
• • •
“If Aunt Madeline dies, Meagan won’t be able to go on her grand tour,” Evie declared in hushed tones.
“Aunt Madeline is not going to die,” Christie said. “Whatever gave you that idea?”
“Aunt Cora died and she was old.”
“It was her time,” their father said with blunt finality. He repositioned his black cane, returning his attention to the view of the rolling green countryside beyond the carriage window.
Christie and Meagan exchanged glances over the top of Evie’s saucer-shaped straw hat.
Ian Wallace demanded silence in his carriage, as it gave him time to think. The business of running his Boston bank consumed him night and day. But today Christie didn’t give a dash about his autocratic rules. “Aunt Cora was very ill, dearest.”
“Do we all have a time, Father?” Evie asked.
“We do.”
“Are you going to die?”
“I am.”
Evie’s face scrunched and her lower lip began to quiver.
Christie sent her father a reproachful look. “Father is not going to die for a very long time.”
Evie turned to Meagan. “If Father dies and Christie marries Mr. Cavanaugh, you will have to take me with you.”
“Father is as healthy as a horse,” Meagan said stoutly.
Evie’s voice held a note of confusion. “I heard Christie tell Bess, he was as stubborn as a mule.”
Meagan’s lips twitched as she tried to contain a smile.
Christie stared straight ahead, attempting to ignore her Father’s piercing glare. Th
ey’d hardly spoken a word throughout the entire journey, which suited her just fine as she had nothing to say to him. Everything had been said in his study the night before.
If meeting Mr. Cavanaugh would secure his consent for Meagan to achieve her dream of going on a grand tour, then so be it. After all, what did she have to lose? Once Cavanaugh learned about the kidnapping, he’d run like a scalded dog with his tail between his legs.
There was no risk involved.
Christie gave Evie’s hand a firm pat. “No one is going to die, and though Mr. Cavanaugh has expressed a wish to meet, that doesn’t mean he’ll offer marriage, or I will accept.”
“We shall see,” their father said without bothering to turn from the window. He appeared older today, his strong, handsome features cast in relief against the brilliance of the afternoon sun. The bright light diluted the usual glitter in his green eyes, highlighting the sprinkle of grey in his mahogany hair. Yet his presence held the same power it always had, a quality that had nothing to do with his six foot height or large frame.
It would be nice to think his distraction was caused by guilt, but it was usual for him to sit trance-like, staring out the window of the carriage.
“If you both leave,” Evie said. “Who will take me shopping and to the park?”
“Father will take you.”
Evie sent Meagan a look of disgust. “Father can’t take me to buy unmentionables. And Christie says I am very low on unmentionables.”
Meagan turned toward the window, letting her mahogany curls swing against her cheek, no doubt to veil an irresistible smile. If they were alone, she’d have let her laughter ring loud and long.
Christie would miss Meagan’s exuberance in the months to come. But she also knew how much this trip meant to her. She’d learned distance couldn’t mend a broken heart, but hopefully the trip would distract Meagan from the recent blow.
Robby had proved to be the scallywag Christie predicted, eloping with a wealthy widow, practically on the eve of Meagan’s request they delay their marriage. Meagan was devastated. It was a terrible thing to watch. Christie wished she’d been able to protect her somehow? But some things are unavoidable, like love and hate and heartbreak.
But Meagan was resilient. She’d get through it. Eventually time would ease the pain. Still, Christie didn’t wish to see her sister hurt. Not the way she’d been hurt.
She’d never wish that on another living soul.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Christie glided into the ballroom with a tight, fixed smile. After tucking Evie in and suffering Meagan’s hysterics over a rent in the hem of her gown, Christie was fit to be tied. Meeting a prospective husband, who wasn’t a possibility at all, seemed an ominous task.
Good God!
Why wouldn’t her father face facts?
Her reputation was ruined. Word may not have reached the ears of the eastern gossip mills yet, but eventually it would, and when it did, she’d be thoroughly compromised. Just how long did he intend to string Mr. Cavanaugh along?
Gad!
Would he never give up?
Well, if he wouldn’t set Cavanaugh straight, she would. She couldn’t come right out and say she was no longer a pinnacle of virtue, nor that her own impetuous actions had led to her destruction. But, she could inform him of her kidnapping, which would hopefully lead him to his own conclusions.
There.
That wasn’t so hard.
Now all she had to do was say it out loud.
No sooner had Christie glided through the door, than did Aunt Madeline hustle over to take her by the arm. Her delicate nostrils flared as her high voice rose above the music from the string quartet and the din of the crowd. “I’m sorry, my love. The Cavanaughs are here, but he isn’t.” She shook her head, bouncing her crown of strawberry curls. “I don’t know what’s keeping him.” She gave a vigorous flutter with the green silk brocade fan, which matched her gown. “But Carolyn assures me he’s coming.”
“No need to worry on my account.” Christie flicked open her white lace fan as Aunt Madeline towed her by the arm through the chattering throng of guests. “I have no desire to meet him at all.”
Aunt Madeline tilted her head to bring her lips closer to Christie’s ear. “Yes, yes, I know, so you’ve said, but I believe you’ll be singing a different tune once you’ve clapped eyes on him. He’s devilishly handsome, at least he was the last time I saw him.”
“And when was that?” Aunt Madeline had placed him on such a high pedestal, Christie was beginning to wonder if he was actually real.
Tiny lights danced in Aunt Madeline’s green eyes. “After the war, I can’t quite remember when. At his wedding, perhaps.”
“Wedding?”
“Yes, he was married once. According to Carolyn, he has led a very adventuresome life since his wife’s death. I doubt he’ll be as shocked about your kidnapping as you think. Besides, after he sees how ravishing you are, he’ll be too besotted to care.”
Christie gave a wry laugh. “You and Father are a great pair, making rules as you go along. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work that way, as you’ve both told me so many times. After a lifetime of hearing you harp on about the necessity of keeping my virtue intact, you can’t suddenly and casually push it aside to suit your own ends.”
“We shall see.”
That’s what her father said, but as far as Christie was concerned, they were both clutching at straws. Oh well, it could be worse. They could have disowned her as many families would have, instead of sinking their teeth into Cavanaugh’s unsuspecting hide, like a pair of rabid terriers.
After a series of lengthy introductions, Aunt Madeline trotted off to see to her guests, leaving Christie with her father.
“I’m beginning to regret giving my consent to this trip.” Her father scowled daggers across the dance floor at Meagan, who was laughing with rapture. “Especially when my side of the bargain isn’t being upheld.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” Christie’s voice came tight and strained. “I’m doing my part. When and if you produce this gentleman, I shall happily speak with him.”
His lips flattened as his gaze swept the crowd. “Where in God’s name can he be!”
“Perhaps it’s for the best. You can forget about marrying me off and concentrate on seeing Meagan properly matched.”
“No, it is not for the best,” he said with great feeling. “You are the eldest and so should be married first.”
“It makes no difference to me if Meagan marries before I do, or if I even marry at all,” she declared flatly. “As long as Meagan is happy and settled, I shall be very happy. She’s almost eighteen.”
He let out a loud huff of exasperation. “And you wonder why I am so persistent. For God’s sake Christie! Forget about your sisters for once and worry about your own happiness. I’m their father and quite capable of taking care of them myself.”
Christie stiffened at his stern rebuff.
“I’m sorry. That dinna come out the way I wanted,” he said, slipping into his brogue, as he always did when he spoke passionately about anything. He gathered both of her hands in his. “Don’t you see, it was wrong of me to pile such responsibility on you at such a young age. Finding you a good husband is the only way I can make it up to you.” He ran one hand through his hair. “Oh damn, I’ve made such a mess of this! If only I hadn’t sent you to Nevada.”
“It wasn’t your fault. I wanted to go. I don’t regret it for a moment.” If she hadn’t gone, she’d have never met Nat. But she couldn’t tell her father that, so she shrugged and said the only thing she could think of to ease his mind, “Not to worry, Mr. Cavanaugh isn’t the only fish in the sea. One day I’ll meet someone who cares for me more than his reputation. In the meantime, why don’t we enjoy ourselves? Come along,” she said, taking her father by the arm. “There’s a reel playing. Let’s show them how it’s done.”
For such a large man, her father was surprisingly agile on his feet.
&nb
sp; Christie found herself forgetting where she was and why she was there. By the time the dance ended, her cheeks were flushed with the effort of keeping up with him. Her head continued to whirl as he led her laughing from the floor.
Aunt Madeline whirled over, gushing like a schoolgirl. “What did I tell you, he’s here! Carolyn’s bringing him over to meet you right now.”
Christie lifted her gaze in the direction of her aunt’s wave.
What she saw made her blink.
Her whole body went weak.
If not for her father’s firm grip on her arm, she might have crumbled to the floor.
Nat.
What was he doing here?
A deluge of emotions rushed over her—joy, desire, regret.
Her first instinct was to turn and bolt—hide her distress and confusion.
Then it was too late.
He was there—coming toward her.
She was trapped.
There was no time for polite excuses. Besides, what use would it do? She couldn’t run from her own heart. She’d already tried.
Her pulse pounded so loud in her ears, Aunt Madeline’s introduction only registered as a faint hum.
Carolyn Cavanaugh extended her hand to Christie, then her father, while murmuring something Christie couldn’t comprehend.
Christie just stood there, staring at Nat, tongue caught as though stuck to a frozen lamp-post.
Nat held out his hand and drawled, “Pleasure to meet you, Miss Wallace.”
“Yes,” she managed to utter, lost in the deep blue of his eyes—too afraid to speak, for fear he wasn’t real and her words might make him disappear.
“Perhaps you’d care to dance?” He didn’t wait for an answer, but took her by the arm and led her onto the floor.
Her legs trembled beneath the folds of her gold, silk gown as he swept her into his arms. “What are you doing here?” She rasped.
“Rescuing you.” He cocked a lazy half smile. “I should have thought that was obvious.”
Rescuing her?
What did that mean?
She didn’t understand.
In fact, she couldn’t think at all. The sight of his tanned face, the one she dreamt of every night, rendered her completely speechless. The feel of his arm around her waist and the touch of his hand quickly wiped all thought from her head. She felt as though she was floating on air, like a feather, and any moment a gust of wind might come up and blow it away. “What do you mean?”
Loving the Lawmen Page 58