11th Hour Rose

by Melissa Lynne Blue

  Gradually the broken sobs ebbed and she released a shuddering breath. “I never should have read it,” she murmured into his chest.

  “Why do you believe that?” His lips grazed her hairline once more.

  She sighed and wiggled a bit more snuggly into his lap like a kitten finding her niche. “It just brings back so many memories and powerful emotions. All of the things I can no longer have. Do you understand?”

  Davy swallowed, hard. Oh, how he understood. Words did not exist to relate the depth of his understanding. If he dwelled on it long enough he’d be sucked back into the black void hovering at the periphery of his existence… ever ready to claim his soul.

  “I suppose the letter helped me put a few things in perspective.” She paused. “Daniel spoke of mundane things. He was in Tennessee when he wrote the letter, he lost some money and his favorite watch playing cards, and he found the August heat unbearable.”

  “I can certainly commiserate,” Davy said softly.

  “There was nothing out of the ordinary in his letter. Daniel had no inkling that he might die before seeing me again or at least that this letter might be his last.” Lilly paused once more. “I could have died yesterday,” she whispered. “Life is too unexpected to leave anything unsaid.” She turned suddenly, her face mere inches from his.

  Davy’s breath caught. Her blue diamond eyes bonded with his, and, dear Jesus, he fell right into them. Time stood still. The world ceased to exist save for the woman nestled in his embrace, the woman he’d vowed to protect. Never had she looked more beautiful—tear streaked, red splotched, and in total disorder. Never had he felt closer to any woman than he did Lilly in this one timeless moment. Gentle fingers lifted up to stroke his cheek and like a man starved he leaned into her touch.

  “Davy, I must tell you… I—I love you.”

  A low tremor rumbled through him, shaking him to the core. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to hers. “Oh, Lilly,” he murmured. “You wreck me with those words.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” She shivered, pushing gently away from him.

  He tightened his arms, holding her in place. “Say it again,” he whispered huskily.

  Her breath caught and her fingers lightly feathered his chest. “I-I love you,” she said in a lilting though tentative voice.

  “And I you,” he replied.

  “Oh, Davy,” she breathed, searching his face. Her eyes melted to tepid pools of inviting summer rain. She wrapped both arms around his neck pulling him down to her.

  He needed no further encouragement and claimed her lips in a sweet kiss that quickly turned heated and wet… oh, so deliciously wet. Damn she was a good kisser. Davy shifted, laying her back on the bed. He followed her down, the weight of his body reclining against the length of her scarcely clad form. Every warm, silken inch of her melded, soft and pliant, against his muscled frame. He was hard for her in a second.

  “God, Lilly, I want you.” He trailed a palm up her flat belly, finally closing it around her right breast. He would give anything to finagle her out of that nightgown… lave kisses along the creamy flesh and pink nipple. It wouldn’t take much. Just a little tug and—

  “Davy,” she mumbled against his lips. “My father is just downstairs.”

  Bloody Hell.

  That killed his arousal. He sagged against Lilly, not quite willing to move, but knowing he must. George may have expressed an interest in Davy marrying his daughter, but entering upon a lovers’ tangle would send any father for a shotgun. Grudgingly David sat, scrubbing both hands through his hair.

  “We should get married,” he said gruffly.

  Lilly, only half sitting, froze, mouth agape.

  “Forgive me. That was a terrible proposal.” He cleared his throat and looked her directly in the eye. “Would you marry me, Lilly?”

  “I…” A fresh bout of waterworks splashed over her eyes. “I don’t know what to say.” She pulled the disordered braid back over her shoulder, nervously fingering the end.

  “I believe this is where you say, yes.” He reached out to tip her chin, but she jerked away.

  “No.”

  “No?” David pulled back, stunned. “Do you mean, no, don’t touch you again or, no, you won’t marry me?”

  The light drained from her eyes in an instant, dousing the passions from a moment before in cold reality. True the offer had been rather impulsive, but he’d never imagined she’d refuse him. He stood abruptly, the old bed slats groaning in protest—he’d like to make them moan for a different purpose. “Why?” he demanded.

  “Davy, wait. Just give me a moment.” She followed him up, reaching for his arm. “This is all so fast.”

  He pulled away, pacing across the small room, compelled to move. “But you just said you love me.”

  “And I do, but—”

  “But what? There should be no buts.”

  “David, we do nothing but fight. Marriage won’t change that.” Her tone was soft, gaze unwavering. “We want different things, Davy. I want a law career and you want nothing more than to keep me out of one.”

  “To protect you. Look what has come of your quest to become a member of the bar.”

  Anger flashed in her eyes. “That is not true.”

  “Believe what you will, Lilly, but if you had listened to me—”

  “Stop!” She raised both palms in a silencing gesture. “Just stop. I don’t want to have this argument again. Not ever.”

  Davy set his jaw, meeting her fiery glare head on.

  “Know this,” she said, voice low and firm. “I will never marry a man who locks me in a jail cell for disagreeing with him. You, David Langston, are an impossible tyrant.”

  “I am not a bloody tyrant,” he growled, turning on a heel and marching from the room. He clumped down the stairs, mood black, what was left of his heart shattered.

  He stopped off at the kitchen to speak with George. Davy gave him a quick update of the facts and prepared to take hasty leave.

  “I take it your talk with my daughter didn’t go well.”

  Davy merely shook his head, replaced his hat, and left. All he wanted was to go home and sleep.

  * * *

  Lilly pulled the lacey curtain covering her window aside, sad eyes falling to David treading wearily away from the house. His hat slanted low on his head—a sure sign of his dour mood, and his powerful shoulders slumped a bit. She found herself counting every defeated step—three… four… five… her heart broke a little more with each one. Finally she spun from the window, swallowing back more tears. She was the worst sort of witch. She’d professed to love him and then refused his offer of marriage.

  She sighed, twisting her fingers together. Her gaze collided with her reflection in the vanity table mirror. “I never should have said anything,” she mumbled to the broken woman in the looking glass.

  Most women would believe her mad to refuse David Langston. The man was a catch to be sure. The eldest child of a prominent Charleston family, the Langstons had money and land to spare even after the war. Not to mention that Davy was one of, if not, the most handsome, virile man she’d ever laid eyes on. Those eyes… so perfectly blue… and all those muscles… Heavens! She shivered, the raw strength of his toned frame still imprinted upon her body.

  Her gaze shifted back to the rumpled bed and heat flushed through her. It took every ounce of her strength not to sprint from the room—nightgown and all—and chase him down. Part of her longed to than draw that man back to her bed and learn the ecstasy of taking him as a lover, but… lust and attraction didn’t change the truth that she couldn’t marry him.

  He locked me in the jail to get his own way! Lilly reminded herself

  She loved him, yes, but he would never be a husband to support her endeavors or see her as a partner in life. He would smother her in his attempts to keep her safe. He did not approve of her ambition to join the South Carolina bar, and Davy obviously didn’t take her seriously. The
realization was disheartening and yet it gave her strength in her decision to refuse him.

  Lilly sighed, slowly ambling back to her bed.

  Once David moved west life would go back to normal. She would help Papa with his work and continue to study the law. Frustrated, she jerked the rumples from her bedclothes. The logic gave her no peace. Instead Davy’s imminent departure left her restless.

  “Did I do the right thing?” she mumbled aloud.

  The dull ache in her temple intensified, further muddying her thoughts. Lilly sank back into bed, massaging her temples. She couldn’t think straight with this persistent headache. She was certain of only one thing—tyrant or otherwise, David Langston had woken a hunger within her she’d thought forever lost.

  11th Hour Rose

  Twelve

  Davy woke from a deep, dreamless slumber, momentarily disoriented after sleeping so hard. He blinked against the afternoon sunlight sneaking through the heavy curtains in his bedchamber and groaned, rolling to the side. He sat, scrubbing a palm over his face and the events of the last day rushed back in vivid relief in his mind.

  Lilly’s attack… Marcus Brady… Lilly’s subsequent refusal…

  Davy flopped back onto the mattress, slinging an arm over his eyes. He wanted nothing more than to sink back into the blissful oblivion of sleep where none of it mattered. Where a woman hadn’t thoroughly gutted him and a serial killer wasn’t wreaking havoc on his city.

  With concerted effort Davy heaved back out of the bed and yanked the curtains back, flooding the room with sunlight. Depressed, he trudged to the closet and donned a fresh lawn shirt and vest. He sighed, knowing there was work to be done, but thoroughly spent.

  “I need a drink,” he mumbled. Everything would look brighter after a drink or two. There were deputies and Yankees scouring the city for clues, and until Marcus Brady’s reporter friend arrived there was little Davy could do regarding the new evidence.

  A good stiff drink would take his mind off of Lilly as well.

  * * *

  Slow piano music drifted through the saloon as Davy shoved through the double doors and stepped into the dim interior. A thin man in a rumpled tweed jacket sat at the instrument, tapping out a despondent song. The piano was in dire need of a tune, and the pianist in need of a bit more skill.

  The drinking hour was early at four o’clock in the afternoon so the wooden bar was fairly empty. One old drunk slouched at the far corner, a bottle in front of him, a tumbler cradled in his shaky fingers. Five men slumped at a round table beneath a cloud of tobacco smoke playing poker and none of them so much as glanced up at Davy.

  “Afternoon,” a sugary voice purred. “Lookin’ for a little company?” A heavily rouged blonde slung an arm over Davy’s shoulder, hoisting her breasts up for his perusal.

  “Not today.” He shrugged off her advances and strode toward the bar. He passed the poker table and inadvertently caught the eye of his youngest brother, Jacob. Hell. The last thing he needed.

  Jacob held his gaze for a moment, flicked his eyes back to the cards propped in his hand, and promptly folded. “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen.” He scooped the remainder of his chips off the table and joined Davy at the bar.

  “Go back to your cards, Jake, I’m not here to check up on you.” Davy signaled the bartender for a drink.

  “Make that two,” Jacob said, tossing his hat down on the counter. “Cards can wait.” He settled himself on the barstool beside David. “What’s this about, Davy? It’s not like you to drink.”

  Davy didn’t readily respond.

  The bartender plunked two tumblers on the counter before them and splashed whiskey into each.

  “Leave the bottle,” Davy ordered.

  Jacob raised a curious brow. “Does this have anything to do with your lady friend being attacked last night?”

  “Good news travels fast I see.” Davy drained the whiskey in one gulp. The burn did little to dull the pain and misery searing the edges of his heart. He grabbed the bottle and poured a second drink.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Jacob asked quietly.

  Davy ground his teeth in irritation. The last thing he wanted to do was discuss women with his carefree younger brother who’d never been in love. “If I wanted to talk about it I wouldn’t be sitting here drinking myself blind.”

  Jacob nodded without saying more, but he didn’t leave, merely sat companionably at Davy’s side, nursing his drink.

  “I asked Lilly to marry me,” Davy said after a while.

  Jacob glanced up in surprise. “Really?”

  “She said no.”

  Jacob lifted the half empty whiskey bottle and poured David another drink. “Go on.”

  Despite himself, Davy found the words spilling forth. He rarely spoke so freely. It must be the effects of the whiskey, though he didn’t feel particularly drunk. Jacob never once interrupted just sat quietly listening.

  “Well, if she loves you I think you’ve won half the battle.” Jacob flashed him a crooked smile. “Be patient and everything will work out.”

  “That’s it? Be patient. You’re not going to lecture me or give me a list of pointers?” Davy grumbled closing his eyes against the spinning of the room. “Instead you of all people are encouraging me to be patient?”

  “Not one of my stronger points,” he conceded with a smile. “But in any case, with the right bit of convincing she’ll come around.”

  “You don’t have anything to add on the fact that I am apparently a tyrant?” Davy shifted back in his chair.

  Jacob shrugged. “You are a tyrant.”

  “That is not helpful.”

  “My point is that you have been giving orders the whole of your adult life. Lilly isn’t one of your soldiers, Davy. She isn’t going to fall in line simply because you say so.” Jacob shifted in his chair, facing David full on. “Look, Davy, I’m no expert when it comes to women, but have you courted her at all?”

  “I took her flowers once.”

  Jacob shook his head with a wry smirk. “If I understand correctly you took her flowers once, locked her in the city jailhouse, and then proposed marriage?”

  “Well, when you put it that way…”

  “It’s no wonder she refused you. Did you expect the woman to fall into your arms with no wooing?

  * * *

  Lilly snuggled down in bed, unable to sleep after the day’s events. Word of her attack whipped through the city and a parade of well-wishers had brought by enough pie, casseroles and various other dishes to feed the Confederate Army at its peak. One would think she’d died! Fortunately her father fielded the callers and after Davy’s visit she’d only seen the doctor and Lavinia. Lilly hadn’t had the strength to tell Lavinia of Davy’s offer.

  Crack!

  Lilly shot bolt upright in bed, heart hammering. The sound resonated from her bedroom window. Visions of the killer coming back to finish what he’d started raced through her head. She squinted, but could not discern any detail through the window. She released a tentative breath. Probably just the old maple tree outside her window. The branches often scraped the glass. Creak… but the weathered window panes groaned, protesting as someone raised the glass from the outside. Lilly flew from the bed, bolting for the door.

  “Lilly!”

  The urgent whisper was achingly familiar, and her heart floundered in her chest as she stumbled to a halt. “Davy? Is that you?”

  “I can’t get this damn window open,” he muttered through the couple of inches he’d managed to raise.

  “What are you doing in my tree?” she demanded, rushing to the window.

  “I am wooing you.”

  “Excuse me?” She shoved her shoulder against the window, inching it upward. “Is scaring the life out of me in the middle of the night supposed to be romantic?”

  David reached out to grasp the inside of the window sash. “It is—whoa!” The maple branch he balanced upon swayed precariously. He slung his other elbow down along the wall
. “A little help here?”

  “Oh, my god, David, are you drunk?” Lilly grabbed hold of his broad shoulders, looping her arms beneath his biceps, and hauled him into the room before he tumbled to his death or, at the very least, incurred a broken leg.

  “Perhaps a little.” He fell through the window, dragging Lilly along with him. They crashed to the floor with a thud.

  Both of them froze, looking to the door.

  “You’re going to wake my father up,” Lilly hissed. Pinned beneath his hulking frame she shoved against his chest. “What are you doing here?”

  “I love you, Lilly.” He climbed to his knees, reaching for her.

  She ignored the hand he extended and rose to her feet. “Yes, well, I think we’ve established that, but why this?” She motioned from David to the window.

  He stood, his towering frame suffusing every corner of the room. “Lilly, I cannot live without you.” He moved closer. “All I want is you before I turn into a miserable, bitter old man.”

  “For heaven’s sake, Davy, you are not a miserable old man.” The words sounded a bit more pert than she intended.

  “But I will be. Someday I will be another lonely drunk drowning in whiskey. I feel it happening even now.”

  “Oh, Davy,” she whispered, hardly trusting her own voice. “You’re being a bit dramatic.”

  “Be my wife,” he pressed.

  She swallowed, desperate to hold her wits and took another step back. “Davy, this is all happening so quickly.” She pressed a hand to her brow, warding off another headache. “I cannot marry you. Just yesterday you—”

  “Locked you in the jailhouse, yes, I know.” Davy sighed impatiently, closing the distance between them once and for all. He settled broad hands upon her hips and Lilly lacked the strength to pull away. “Lilly, I’ve come to the conclusion that I’ll have far more success keeping you out of trouble working with you than against you.”