He moved forward just a bit more, their fingers were still locked together, and he stroked a thumb across her smooth knuckles. Shivers tripped up and down her spine. His gaze went beyond smoldering now, it was ablaze, on fire. Excitement rippled through her as he leaned just a bit closer, so close in fact his breath breezed across her lips. If he leaned in any further he may actually kiss her.
Kiss her!
A small bubble of panic welled in her breast. If the fire and burning of his eyes could make the world around her fade and flicker into a nondescript haze, what would his lips do? He was so close now, just inches away, the heat of his body seared her, and the scent of his masculine cologne tickled her senses. The hint of whiskers shadowing his jaw line drew her gaze and she was feeling quite intoxicated. So intoxicated that she rejected all reason and swayed toward him, parting her lips in wanton invitation.
“Something smells good in there.” A voice echoed through the hall. “Is dinner ready yet?”
Lilly startled and jumped away. Davy too, quickly distanced himself, raking a hand through his wavy golden locks.
“Just about, Papa,” Lilly called, her voice ringing a bit higher-pitched than normal. She whirled back toward the stove, lifting a wooden spoon to stir the soup. “Marshal Langston is going to join us.” She chanced a glance toward him.
Davy cleared his throat and turned toward the kitchen door, appearing remarkably composed. “Well, uh, George, as long as I am here why don’t we start going over what we have and cancel the meeting at my office this evening.”
“Sounds good to me.” Her father strode into the kitchen, taking his usual seat at the table. “Nice flowers,” he said. “Where’d they come from?”
“Oh, uh, Davy brought them for… um…”
“For Lilly’s birthday,” David finished for her.
“Is that so?” Her father’s eyes widened in surprise before piercing the other man with a suspicious glare. “Are you of a mind to court my daughter, Langston? If so it’ll take more than wild flowers to impress me.”
Alarm and dread washed over David’s face and he coughed, throwing Lilly a desperate glance.
She took pity on him. “Come, Papa, he did not bring them to court me. You know better. Now, do you have any new leads or information about the murders?”
“So far my deputies have turned up nothing.”
Davy scraped a second chair back. “We haven’t found much either, but Lilly’s got some notes to go over. If there are any common patterns in the behavior of these women we’ll find it.”
“I spoke with Lavinia about Susie today,” Lilly interjected. She quickly related her earlier conversation with her cousin as she dished up dinner and prepared to eat.
The meal was quick with conversation centered on the investigation. Afterward, Lilly’s interview notes were pulled out, and after another two and one half hours nothing new was uncovered.
“This is damn frustrating,” George muttered, raking a hand through his graying hair. “Tomorrow we’ll start combing the business district by the seamstress shop. What we need is to pinpoint exactly where those women were and who they were with before being murdered.”
“I know.” David appeared equally discouraged. “The worst is knowing we could have another victim at any time. The townspeople know it as well. I can hardly cross the street without being bombarded with questions and worries. One man asked if he should have his daughters sent away from Charleston.” Davy shook his head. “I have served in both the United States and Confederate armies and spent four years at war, but never have I seen such a mess.”
“We’ll need to disclose an official statement.”
Davy sighed, scrubbing a hand across his face. “I was planning to contact the local paper Monday to have a statement printed next week.”
“Lilly should help you. She has a wonderful way with words,” George said.
Lilly shifted her gaze back to David only to find him already watching her. A little shiver slid down her spine. His face was an unreadable mask. Was he irritated by the proposition? It was impossible to tell.
“I should be going,” Davy said, rising from his chair and gathering up the interview notes. He stuffed them inside his vest.
“I’ll see you out,” Lilly offered politely, following him up. She ignored her father’s questioning brow, and left the kitchen.
Davy strode wordlessly down the hall in front of her and retrieved his gray felt slouch hat from the wooden peg beside the front door. He jerked open the door and Lilly was certain he would leave without so much as a parting good evening. At the last moment he turned back to her, expression soft.
“Happy birthday,” he murmured, brushing a stray hair from her jaw with his knuckles and pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek.
11th Hour Rose
Five
Sunday afternoon David weaved through the crowded Harvest Festival, his head filled with Lilly. He tried to convince himself it was a result of devouring one of her blue-ribbon apple pies not ten minutes prior, but if that were the case why did he see the full curve of her pouty lips every time he closed his eyes?
What had possessed him to kiss her cheek last night? It had been a moment of pure impulse—no thought, just instinct. It was the sort of moment that made him a good soldier, the ability to act quickly, decisively, but surely that little kiss—no matter how utterly sweet—had been a grave error in judgment. Davy hadn’t romantically kissed a woman in eight years.
Rounding a large canopy with several children gathered round to watch a dunking game, Davy found himself confronted by a prim reddish-blonde bun and slim shoulders clad in plain brown. Lilly.
He hesitated, nervous as a green boy. What the hell had come over him? He scowled. No woman was worth this level of mental anguish. He began to turn on a heel, more than prepared to stomp off and forget that he’d ever seen—much less kissed the cheek of Lilly Hudson, but… He stopped short. From the corner of his eye he noted a man at her elbow. Anger flared instantly. Dark and lean the figure of Marcus Brady was unmistakable. Would she never stay away from trouble?
“Lilly!” David shouted, striding determinably back toward her.
Lilly turned as he approached, and smiled in open invitation, her eyes soft as a bluebell in May. He was far too irritated to take notice. “Marshal Langston, are you enjoying the festival?”
Davy ignored her question and gave Marcus a curt nod before turning a stern glare to her. “May I have a moment alone, Miss Hudson?”
“Oh.” Lilly narrowed her eyes in subtle question. “I suppose.” She turned back to Marcus with a dazzling smile that served to further irk David. “Do excuse us, Mr. Brady.”
Brady glanced between Lilly and David, obviously disappointed at having his interlude interrupted. “Very well.” He tipped his cap and backed congenially away. He motioned toward the gaggle of boys beneath the tent a few feet away. “I will offer up my services at the dunk tank.”
Lilly laughed. ”I wish you luck, Mr. Brady. Some of those boys have exceptional aim.” After the other man took his leave, she shifted her attention back to Davy, cocking her head to the side in question. “What do you need, David?”
“I don’t want you alone with Marcus Brady.”
She startled, visibly confused. “Excuse me?”
“You are not to be alone with Marcus Brady again,” he growled.
Lilly bristled, crossing her arms over her chest. “Forgive me, but that is none of your concern. Must you—” She stopped short, expression evolving from annoyance to one of tempered wonder. “Are you jealous?”
“Absolutely not,” he snapped. “It’s just, uh… you should know better than to speak with those damn reporters.”
Lilly rolled her eyes.
“Brady is the worst sort. I have no doubt whatever you told him will appear in tomorrow’s newspaper.”
“So you believe I was sharing information about the investigation with him?” Lilly shook her head. “Did it occur to you that h
e was simply a gentleman stopping to congratulate my cousin and me for winning the grand prize for our pies?”
Davy set his jaw. “No.” For whatever reason that did not sit particularly well with him either, but not because he was jealous. “Nevertheless I do not want to see you with him again.”
“You are a tyrant.”
“In matters of life, death, and serial killers, I have the government appointed right to be a tyrant.”
Her intelligent eyes sparked. “You believe Mr. Brady is the killer?” Skepticism laced her tone.
“I have my suspicions,” he replied elusively. Marcus Brady was a newspaper reporter originally from New York. He’d arrived in Charleston not long before the first murder, and was always in the company of some woman or another. Something about Brady gnawed at Davy’s gut, and it was more than the other man’s Yankee roots.
Lilly pursed her lips as though she might laugh and glanced toward the dunk tank.
Davy’s irritation flared back to life. Apparently she was as agog over Mr. Brady as every other woman in the city. “I believe it’s possible,” he elaborated after a moment. “He is good looking, charismatic, just the sort who could easily lure women into a false sense of trust, even married ones. In any case, we’re not in a position to rule out anyone in the city as a potential murderer.”
“Even you,” she jibed.
“Davy!” A voice called out before he could set Lilly back on her heels. “Ho, there!”
David swiveled to find his younger brother, Curtis Langston, striding toward him, arm raised in greeting. Davy waved in return, guilt washing over him once again. He still hadn’t visited his brother’s twin daughters. Curtis paused and half turned, stretching an arm out behind him. A moment later he wrapped an arm around his wife’s shoulders, ushering Cadence and the baby carriage she pushed forward.
Davy groaned, feeling an utter ass.
Lilly shifted back. “I should be—”
He snared her arm. “You’re not going anywhere,” he muttered under his breath.
* * *
Startled, Lilly glanced from Davy’s vice-like grip on her upper arm to his face. Their eyes locked briefly. Panic flickered in his gaze. Panic and something more… something she could not quite discern but it nearly broke her heart. Lilly said nothing, the time for questions would be later, but gave a simple nod, turning a polite smile to Davy’s brother and sister-in-law as they approached.
Captain Curtis Langston cut an impressive figure as he pushed through the crowd. Garbed in simple tan trousers, boots that had seen better days, and a plain white shirt with sleeves cuffed to the elbows one would never guess he owned the prominent Rebellion Shipping company. Like Davy he had striking blue eyes though Curtis’s blond locks were sun bleached a few shades lighter—no doubt from his time at sea—and while he was not as tall as David, Curtis was considerably brawnier. Fleetingly Lilly wondered about the tantalizing tales of Curtis’s heroism during the war. Were they true?
To the captain’s left, Cadence Langston glided down the roadside, wearing a pretty day gown, her curly reddish blonde hair pulled half back and the rest left to flow around her shoulders. She appeared elfin beside her hulking husband, and one might never guess she’d been accused of murder just one year before. The couple appeared happy and comfortable, and Lilly couldn’t help but wonder if it was hard for Davy to see his younger brothers married with families.
She glanced back to Davy who adopted an easy grin when his brother stopped before him. “What a pleasant surprise to see you out and about,” Davy said. “I had planned to stop by this afternoon and meet your girls.”
“I’m sure,” Curtis replied, his tone indicating he didn’t believe Davy for a second.
David put a hand between Lilly’s shoulder blades, urging her ever so slightly forward. “Curtis and Cadence Langston, are you acquainted with Miss Lilly Hudson?”
“A little,” Cadence replied with a kind smile. “The sheriff’s daughter if I’m not mistaken.”
“That’s correct.” Lilly smiled in response. She glanced down into the baby carriage. “Oh!” She clasped her hands in delight. “They’re absolutely adorable.” Nestled in the basket, swaddled in light weight white blankets, two babies slept peacefully side by side, contentment evident on their tiny faces.
“Emmaline and Olivia,” Curtis supplied, voice thick with fatherly pride.
“Congratulations, Cadence,” Davy said. “You look lovely.” He stepped forward, kissing his sister-in-law’s cheek before shifting his attention to the baby carriage. His arm brushed Lilly’s as he peered down at his nieces. Lilly knew she should move away, but Davy’s amiable expression faltered, and for the barest instant he appeared completely haunted. However inappropriate their closeness may be, she sensed he needed her to stay right where she was. Davy cleared his throat and glanced to Lilly. She held his gaze firmly. After a moment his expression steeled. “Curtis, it’s lucky for these girls you have a beautiful wife. It’d be a real pity if they looked like you.”
“Someday you will have a daughter, and it will be my great pleasure to say the same to you,” Curtis grumbled good-naturedly.
“Don’t hold your breath,” Davy muttered.
“Just you wait,” Curtis replied with a knowing grin. He glanced between Lilly and David before turning a loving gaze to his wife. “We won’t keep you, Davy, Grandmamma Ginny is expecting us, but don’t be a stranger.”
Lilly watched Cadence and Curtis take leave, curiosity—as well as concern—piqued. She turned to David, one brow quirked. He didn’t seem to notice. He stood stock still, staring after his brother, brow folded in a pensive furrow.
“Davy, are you all right?” she asked, concerned.
He didn’t respond and Lilly could see the internal war in the lines of his face.
She touched his arm. “Davy?”
He jerked away from her hand, startled. “What? Oh…” He shook his head, washing a broad palm over his face. “Forgive me, I—I was thinking.”
“About your wife?”
He blinked in obvious surprise. “How did you guess?”
She shrugged. “Intuition I suppose.”
Davy sighed. “I’ve been avoiding Curtis for two weeks. I’m ashamed to admit it, and I’m thrilled for him, truly I am, but…”
“Is it often difficult for you to see your brothers and their children?”
“No,” he replied honestly. “Craig’s boy, Christopher, I take him fishing once a week. Or, at least I try to, but Curtis’s twins…” He paused, swallowing hard. He met her gaze, his soul totally bare to her. “It’s different, you see. They were born on the anniversary of the day my wife and newborn son died.”
Lilly gasped. “How awful.” She’d known he was a widower, but hadn’t realized he’d lost a child as well. “Childbirth?”
He nodded. “It’s just… just…” He lifted his shoulders miserably.
“Just what, Davy?”
He jerked his hat off and yanked his fingers through his hair. “God has a cruel sense of humor to give my brother everything I lost on the same damn day.” The anger in his expression dissipated as quickly as it had come, leaving his eyes empty with sadness. He turned, shoulders slouched and ambled into the grass field away from the festivities.
Unsure what else to do, Lilly followed.
Davy leaned against the trunk of an ancient maple tree and slumped to the ground. He twirled his hat on his fingers before flipping it into the grass a few feet away.
Lilly drew a tentative breath, lifted his felt hat from the grass and moved slowly back to him. Quietly she sank to the ground beside him. “What was her name?”
“My wife?” he asked without looking at Lilly. “Laura.”
“And your boy?”
“Cullen. Cullen Timothy Langston. He would have been eight.”
Lilly nodded, unsure what more to say, but unwilling to leave him alone. She suspected he was alone with his thoughts of loss far too often. He put on a goo
d show for his family, but she’d glimpsed beneath the jovial exterior he portrayed for their benefit to the pain beneath. She set his hat beside her and smoothed a palm along the skirt puddled around her.
“Every time my brothers announce their wives are with another child I feel physically ill. All I can see is Laura that day—” he stopped short, and Lilly laid a gentle hand on his arm. “I never want them to go through what I did.” Davy opened his eyes, finally meeting her gaze.
Lilly froze, trapped in his eyes. In that instant the world did not exist save for the two of them. All she knew was the silver rim around the blue of his irises, and the heat of his bicep where her fingers lingered. She was transported back to the night Susannah Jensen died, to the moment behind the carriage when she’d seen the broken heart in his eyes. She wanted to take it away, help him heal. Lilly was no stranger to loss. The sadness never completely went away, but one could move on. She slid her hand down his arm, slipping her fingers into his palm.
“How long were you married?” she asked, half-expecting him to shut down her questions.
“Three years,” he replied readily. “I was gone for most of it.”
“Oh?”
He nodded, closing his hand around hers. “You may not know, but I was an officer in the U.S. regulars before the war. Went to West Point and everything.”
Lilly did know this, but chose not to interrupt. It wasn’t often David Langston spoke so freely.
“I was very driven about my career and felt it best she stay in Charleston with her family. I only meant to protect her.” He gave a wry snort. “How ironic that in the end I was responsible for her death.”
“Oh, Davy, you cannot believe that,” Lilly implored.
He shrugged. “Her family certainly did.”
“Do you still see them from time to time?”
11th Hour Rose Page 5