A Love to Cherish

by Connie Mason

  Casey was clearly startled. Since when was the madam an expert on governesses? He pitied the severely beaten girl, but she’d need more qualifications than that before he’d agree to bring her into the household. Her pale blond hair was piled atop her small head and she was dressed in a demure, peach-colored gown with a high, round collar. She was small and neatly fashioned. Her figure was pleasing but that was all he could tell about her appearance. Her face was too hideously swollen and discolored to tell if she was even remotely pretty.

  “This is my husband, Casey Walker,” Belle continued as she introduced Greta to Casey.

  Greta held out a small, white hand to Casey. Casey shook it without compunction. “Are you qualified to work as a governess, Miss … ?” Suddenly he realized he hadn’t been given a last name.

  “Collins. Greta Collins.” Her voice quavered nervously. If the Walkers didn’t hire her she had no place else to go. “My parents insisted I be given an education. I attended a finishing school and am qualified to teach young children the basics of education.”

  “My wife says Naomi recommended you.” He hesitated but felt compelled to ask, “Have you known Naomi long?”

  Belle cleared her throat, forestalling Greta’s answer. Tommy seemed to be hanging onto every word. “Tommy, find Wan Yo and tell him to take you to the park. There is plenty of time for a romp before dinner.”

  Once Tommy was gone Casey turned his gaze back to Greta, waiting for her answer.

  “I met Naomi when she took me in a few days ago.”

  Casey’s next questions were more pointed. “Are you one of Naomi’s stable of girls? Did one of your … er … customers beat you?”

  Greta turned a dull red beneath the bruises.

  “Casey! Don’t badger Greta,” Belle cautioned.

  “It’s all right, Mrs. Walker, your husband has a right to know. I worked for Naomi one night but couldn’t go through with it. The man who paid for my services beat me when I refused to accommodate him. Naomi brought me here. She said I didn’t belong in her house.”

  Casey’s features softened but he still wasn’t satisfied. Tommy was a young, impressionable child. A governess could influence his life in countless ways and should be above reproach. “What caused you to seek employment with Naomi? Why did you leave your parents’ home?”

  Belle hated the way Casey was probing into Greta’s past. Just as she had been condemned for living with Naomi, Casey was judging Greta unfairly. “Casey, isn’t it enough that Naomi recommended Greta?”

  “I’m afraid it isn’t, Belle. Tommy’s welfare is at stake. We don’t want him placed in the care of someone inappropriate.”

  Greta rose to leave. “Perhaps I should go. It was wrong of me to …”

  “No! Stay,” Belle said, glaring at Casey. “Naomi’s word is good enough for me.”

  “Allow me to be the judge of what’s good for my family,” Casey said tightly. He turned back to Greta. “Would you care to answer my question?”

  Greta stared at her hands. “I ran away with a man I thought I loved. My parents didn’t approve of him. But since I was of age I listened to my heart instead of their good judgment. I withdrew my small inheritance from the bank and left my family home with the man I thought would be my husband. He took my money and my virginity and left me penniless in San Francisco.”

  “So you sought work in a brothel. You could have gone home,” Casey contended.

  “You don’t know my father. He’s a preacher and very strict. He would have not have taken me back into his home. I had no self-esteem left. I thought working in a bordello was all that I deserved.” She lifted her gaze to Casey. Her eyes were blue and spoke eloquently of her utter defeat. “Perhaps I was right after all. I have fallen from grace and should accept my fate. If Naomi won’t take me back I’m sure I will find a place in another bordello.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Belle said, taking Greta’s hands in hers. “You are young and were taken advantage of, and no blame can be attached to that. You were wrong to seek employment in a bordello but you’ve paid for your mistake. Men can be pigs. You didn’t deserve the beating you received. There is an empty room next to Tommy’s, I’m sure you’ll be comfortable there. Wan Yo can retrieve your belongings from Naomi’s later.”

  “There you are. Are you discussing something important or can I join in?”

  Mark had returned from the winery, eager to discuss his day. He had found the workings fascinating and wanted to ask Casey if he could return to the winery on a daily basis to learn all aspects of the business. He spied Greta and came to an abrupt halt.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you had company.”

  Greta turned slowly, giving Mark the full benefit of her ravaged features. Mark gasped, paling beneath his tan. “My God! Tell me who did that to you, miss, and I’ll make him sorry he still walks the face of the earth.”

  “I feel the same way, brother,” Casey said. “This is Greta Collins, Tommy’s new governess. Miss Collins, this is my brother, Mark Walker.”

  After introductions were made, Belle showed Greta to her room. Casey walked to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a brandy. “Join me, Mark,” Casey invited.

  “What happened to that poor woman?” Mark asked, accepting a dram of brandy from Casey.

  “It’s a long story.”

  “I’ve got time.”

  “I don’t know the whole story but I’ll tell you what I do know.” He then related everything Greta had told him. “I was reluctant to hire the woman but you know Belle.”

  “I wonder what Greta looks like beneath those bruises,” Mark mused.

  “Don’t get any ideas, Mark. I won’t have any hanky-panky going on beneath this roof. Except for her one mistake, Miss Collins seems like a decent woman.”

  “She is,” Belle said, reentering the room. “She’s a victim of a man’s lust and has paid dearly for her mistake.”

  “Belle is right,” Mark agreed, slapping his brother on the back. “I’ll leave you two alone to work this out.”

  The moment Mark was gone, Belle rounded on Casey. “You had no right talking to Greta the way you did! Tommy is my son, not yours, and I’d never do anything to hurt him. Hiring Greta should have been my decision, not yours.”

  Casey’s temper dangled by a slim thread. Then he saw a maid peeking around the corner and realized that whatever was said in the parlor would be repeated among the servants. “Not here.” Grasping her hand, he pulled her up the stairs and into their room, slamming the door behind him.

  “When we married I accepted responsibility for the family,” Casey said.

  Belle’s chin slanted upward. “Responsibility is a forever thing. I don’t expect you to remain around long enough to undertake that kind of commitment.”

  “I’m not leaving, Belle.”

  There was a momentary flicker in Belle’s eyes. “But I assumed …”

  “Until I tell you I’m leaving, I suggest you accustom yourself to having me around.” His eyes narrowed. “Shouldn’t you be in bed? I thought the doctor told you to rest.”

  Casey waited in vain for Belle to tell him about the baby, and when she failed to do so disappointment made his voice harsh. “From now on you’ll rest in bed every afternoon until your natural color returns and you regain your former stamina. If you won’t take care of yourself, I reckon it’s up to me to do it for you.”

  Casey reacted so fast Belle had no time to protest. Sweeping her from her feet, he placed her in the center of the bed. “Rest until dinner. Lord knows you didn’t get much sleep last night.”

  Belle fumed in silent rage. He didn’t have to remind her that she had spent the night in his arms, being loved and loving him in return.

  When Belle continued to remain mute about their child, Casey stomped from the room. Love hurt when it was not returned. He wondered how long Belle would keep her little secret. She was going to be damned surprised to find him still here when she bore their child. Maybe by that
time she would realize he had no intention of leaving her, Tommy, or their expected baby.

  As far as Casey was concerned, his detective work had ended with his marriage. Casey had already repaid the three thousand dollars he had borrowed from Allan Pinkerton. He had also written a letter to his employer explaining his situation and resigning his position.

  Greta joined them for dinner that night. The conversation was dominated by Mark. His enthusiasm for the wine business and all its various stages, from the initial harvesting of grapes to the final production of wine, was catching. He waxed eloquent about all he had seen that day at the winery and announced his intention to learn the business.

  When Mark tried to engage Greta in conversation, she answered shyly and in monosyllables. She kept her head bent, ashamed to show her bruised countenance, and excused herself immediately following the meal. Mark stared after her, his expression thoughtful.

  “I’d still like to get my hands on the bastard who hurt her,” he said harshly.

  “Get in line,” Casey said dryly. “What are your plans tonight, Mark?”

  “Thought I’d go out, perhaps stop in at Naomi’s later.”

  “Mind if I tag along?”

  Mark sent Casey a sidelong glance, wondering what he was about. Casey was a newlywed, for godsake. And an expectant father. Evidently all wasn’t well between him and Belle. “Sure, come along, if it’s all right with Belle.”

  Belle’s head jerked upright. “Casey doesn’t need my permission to carouse. It’s what men do, isn’t it?”

  “It doesn’t have to be like that,” Casey said quietly.

  “Of course it does. If you’ll excuse me, I promised Tommy a story before bedtime.”

  “Trouble in paradise?” Mark asked once they were alone. “Did the baby make no difference in your relationship?”

  “Belle isn’t aware that I know about the child. I’m waiting for her to tell me. If you must know, I’m at my wit’s end where my wife is concerned. She’s convinced I’ll leave her and Tommy, and that I can’t be trusted. Don’t let on that you know about the child. If I’m not supposed to know, then you can’t either.”

  “This is too complicated for me,” Mark contended. “But if you still want to join me, be ready in an hour.”

  Sleep eluded Belle. She remembered Casey’s words about finding a woman to satisfy him and imagined him with Sweet Sue, or Ellie, or any one of Naomi’s girls. It shouldn’t hurt so much, but it did. If Casey wanted to earn her trust he was going about it the wrong way, she reflected. She just thanked God Casey wasn’t like the pig who hurt Greta. If Greta had been a whore, Belle still would have taken her in. Perhaps not as Tommy’s governess but in some capacity in the household. Every woman deserved a second chance.

  The hall clock was striking midnight when she heard Casey’s footsteps on the stairs. She held her breath when he paused at her door, and let it out in a shaky sigh when he continued on to his room. The previous night she had slept in Casey’s arms. Now he was returning from another woman’s arms and the pain was unbearable. Belle was mired in confusion. She wanted Casey and hated herself for needing him. She loved him yet didn’t trust him.

  Belle finally fell asleep, her hand splayed across the place where her child grew inside her. Casey’s child.

  Casey paced the length of the room and back. He hadn’t gone to Naomi’s after all. He had left Mark on Naomi’s doorstep and continued on to the nearest saloon. He tossed down several beers, watched a girlie show on stage, and allowed one of the dancers to sit on his lap. He had politely refused her whispered invitation for something more intimate and wandered off to join a poker game.

  No matter how hard Casey tried to drown his problems, drinking only seemed to magnify them. He was going to be a father and his wife refused to acknowledge her pregnancy. He knew Belle was unhappy about her pregnancy, that she wanted neither him nor his child. When liquor lost the ability to dull the pain of Belle’s rejection, Casey had returned home. He had paused briefly before Belle’s door then continued on to his own room, where he now paced in silent misery.

  Abruptly Casey stopped pacing and quietly let himself out into the hall. Belle was his wife, dammit, and he had every right to be with her. Her door opened noiselessly beneath his fingertips and he stepped inside. Beams of moonlight filtered through the window, bathing the room in a silvery glow. Casey’s gaze stopped at the bed where a slender figure lay curled beneath the covers. He padded to the bed on bare feet, threw off the robe he had donned when he’d undressed earlier and slid into bed beside his wife.

  Belle didn’t awaken. A breathy sigh slipped past her lips as she went willingly into Casey’s arms. She slept there in contentment all night. She awoke the following morning to find Casey staring at her as if he could see through to her very soul. She jerked back in surprise.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “This is where I belong.”

  She wrinkled her nose and lashed him with a look of contempt. “You smell like a cheap whore. The least you could do was wash off the other woman’s scent before climbing in bed with me.”

  “There was no other woman.”

  Belle turned away in disgust. “Keep your secrets. I don’t want to know about your women.” She started to rise, but the moment her head left the pillow she turned white and dove for the slop jar. Casey leapt from bed and held the jar steady while she heaved into it. When she finished, he helped her to lie down again and fetched water and a cloth.

  “How long is this supposed to last?” he asked as she rinsed out her mouth and washed her face.

  Belle went still. Casey didn’t know, did he? “Not too much longer. The tonic the doctor left should help.”

  He waited for her to tell him about their child and when she didn’t, he said, “Stay in bed today. Wan Yo will bring your meals and Greta can see to Tommy.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You can’t?” he asked incredulously.

  “There is something I have to do.”

  “Perhaps I can do it for you.”

  Belle was silent a long time, wondering how much to tell Casey about her decision to find McAllister’s real killer. “Perhaps you can help if you can tear yourself away from all the women clamoring for your attention.”

  “Belle.” His voice was low, but hard as steel. “Get this straight once and for all. I’m not leaving you. I don’t have another woman … yet,” he added ominously, “and I damn sure can’t help you if I don’t know the problem.”

  Belle pulled herself into a sitting position, found she could control the nausea churning inside her, and felt encouraged to continue. “I went to see Harry Hopkins yesterday.”

  Of all the things Belle could have said, that was the least expected. And the most likely to upset Casey. “You what! Good God, Belle, are you crazy? The man’s a killer.”

  Casey’s outburst didn’t seem to faze Belle. “He didn’t do it, Casey. He told me so himself.”

  “I’d deny it myself if I thought I’d hang for it.”

  “I believe him. You’re a detective. Find the man responsible before it’s too late.”

  “I already found the right man. Why would Hopkins confess if he wasn’t guilty?”

  “He did it for my sake. He’s a kindly man.”

  “He’s a stranger. He hardly knows you, why should he offer his life in exchange for yours?”

  “He said he’s dying anyway, and he didn’t believe I killed my father-in-law. He knew I had a son who would miss me if I was sent to prison.”

  Casey shook his head. “You’re too gullible for your own good, love. The man has you hoodwinked.”

  “Then you won’t help?”

  “I would if I thought it wasn’t a waste of my time.”

  “Very well, I’ll do this on my own.”

  Casey tensed, recalling Belle’s condition. “What exactly are you going to do?”

  “Find a killer, of course.”

  “Then I have nothing to worry a
bout where you’re concerned, because the killer is already behind bars.” He regarded her somberly. “Is there anything else we need to discuss?”

  Tell me, Belle, tell me now, Casey silently implored.

  “Do you intend to sleep in my bed tonight? And the next night? And the next?”

  “Why are you being stubborn about this?” Casey charged.

  “About what? Our sleeping together?”

  No, about the baby, Casey thought, but did not say.

  “I’ll sleep in your bed and make love to you whenever I get the urge. You’re the most exasperating woman I’ve ever known.”

  “What about those other women you mentioned? The ones who can satisfy your needs better than I? The ones whose perfume you’re wearing?”

  “You haven’t driven me that far yet,” Casey said by way of warning.

  Belle believed him. Or perhaps it was that she wanted to believe him. He still hadn’t explained the perfume to her satisfaction, but she let it pass.

  “Are you going to obey me and stay away from the jailhouse?” Casey asked, toying with a bright strand of her hair. It felt like silk between his fingers, and he loved the rich sable color spilling over his hand. He brought it to his lips, kissed it and placed it behind her ear.

  Belle watched him warily, all too aware of the power he held over her emotions. His kisses rendered her witless, and if she wasn’t careful she might inadvertently let slip about the baby. She wasn’t ready for that truth yet.

  “I’m going to do what I think is right,” Belle replied. “I’m willing to bet the killer is still in town.” She gave him a little shove. “Don’t you have work to do this morning?”

  “Nothing is more important than tending to my wife.”

  “Why do you keep pretending ours is a real marriage?”

  “What will it take to convince you it is a real marriage?”

  Love, Belle wanted to say. “If you don’t know, I’m not going to tell you.”

  “Shall I show you?”

  He didn’t wait for her answer. His arms went around her, bringing her beneath him on the bed. He held his body slightly above her so as not to hurt her as he lowered his head and fused his mouth to hers. He kissed her long and hard, feeling her mouth soften and open beneath his and rejoicing in her surrender. She might not love him, but her body recognized his as her soul mate.