When he spoke, soft and low, she had to lean forward to hear him. “First of all, Amanda’s beautiful. She’s blond and her eyes are brown. She’s slender. An elegant young woman. Tender-hearted. Intelligent. No silly miss.” He glanced up now, met Taylor’s gaze. His expression was sober … and watchful. “And no, she didn’t ask about you. How could she? She was crying, Taylor, because she believes you to be dead … again.”
Taylor sat back, tugging her hand out of his. But she couldn’t look away from the sharp intelligence in his eyes. “Again? Then she was also lied to? Was she told, as I was about her, that I died when still a child?”
He nodded. “Apparently. That’s what everyone appeared to believe.”
“Everyone?”
“Your father. My mother. Amanda. Her parents. And my brother, Franklin. We all had supper together at your aunt and uncle’s. And I have to tell you, of them all only Franklin seemed to have no clue about what had happened in your and your family’s pasts.”
Taylor’s mind flitted past the reference to his brother and mother in order to get to the other people Greyson had named. A hunger to see these people she loved ate at her, had her eyes wide and rounded with want. “You saw … my Aunt Camilla?”
“Yes. She’s extremely upset over the news that you were hanged a month ago for murder. As is your Uncle Stanley.”
Taylor exhaled her sadness. “I barely knew him, my father’s brother. Or even my father. But still, I have brought shame to my family.” Then she thought of something else. “You did not tell them that I am not dead, that I’m here?”
“No. I didn’t. Because, well, I don’t know yet who to trust, myself.”
Defeat ate at Taylor. “You still don’t believe I am who I say I am?”
He nodded. “Oh, yes. I do. I believe you. In fact, I’d pretty much come to the same conclusions today as you did about who to trust. No one.” He looked sad and angry at the same time. “You see, the truth is that out of everyone I suspect who’s involved somehow, Taylor, you’re the only one I can trust at this point. Do you understand what that means?”
She nodded. “Yes. These same people we cannot trust are my family and your friends. It is a sad thing.”
He rubbed a hand over his mouth, as if tired. But his dark eyes appeared more tortured than anything else. “Sadder than you think.”
Taylor didn’t know what to make of that, so she said nothing, just watched him as he … with slow, deliberate motions … picked up his cigar, puffed on it, exhaled the smoke, and then took another drink. He drained the glass and all but slammed it on the desk. The hard clunking sound it made startled Taylor. A change—and not a good one—came over Greyson. She met his ragged and angry glare. He reminded her of a wildcat bunching its muscles threateningly and hunkering down … right before it leaped onto its prey, its fangs and claws bared.
“There’s something else you ought to know about Amanda,” he said belligerently, while gesturing at her with his cigar. “Something that, in all the excitement today, I didn’t realize until this evening I hadn’t told you. Something that may explain to you why I care so much about what may be going on around you. Beyond my friendship with your father, that is.”
Fear blossomed in Taylor’s heart. She clutched at the leather chair’s arms, digging her nails into the fabric. “Is something wrong with Amanda?”
“Wrong? No, nothing’s wrong.” He looked directly into Taylor’s eyes. His piercing gaze burned with anguish. “Everything is right. And Amanda will make my brother a wonderful wife.”
The strength drained right out of Taylor’s body. Her bones melted. “Wife?” The word was no more than an exhalation of breath. She realized now that in her mind Amanda hadn’t grown up. She was still the little girl that Taylor had spent every moment with and dragged into all her adventures. “Amanda is marrying your brother?”
Greyson soberly nodded. He reached forward to lay his cigar in the ashtray next to hers. Taylor found herself pulling back as he did. He didn’t seem to notice. “Yep,” he said. “I didn’t tell you that part until now because … well, because I wasn’t sure until now that I dare. But it’s probably the most important detail of all right now, Taylor.” He met her eyes, held her gaze. “Their upcoming marriage goes a ways toward explaining my involvement in your business. I have my own family to protect.”
He knew something. Excitement, maybe dread, quickened inside Taylor. “Protect them from what?”
He sat back. “From who is more like it. And that’s the part I still don’t know. Now, my mother, as much as I hate to agree with her, brought up something tonight that is also important.”
She’d all but forgotten his mother—and her reaction earlier when Greyson had blurted out Taylor’s name. Miss James. Again she could hear him saying it out in the barn. Could smell the hay. And she could hear his mother’s gasp and could see again the look she had given Taylor. She knew who Taylor was; that much had been evident. But did she also know more? With a quiet purring voice laced with dislike, Taylor asked, “Did she tell them that she had met a Miss James today at your home?”
“No. For whatever reason, no. And yes, I find that significant. But back to what she did say. Realizing that everyone thinks you are—forgive me—dead, she said your hanging for murder and your being part Indian are a scandal in the making, should any of it get out, along with our connection to you. I have to admit, something like that is sensational news. And she’s right, Taylor. I cannot imagine why your story hasn’t been in the newspapers.”
Taylor chuckled, a harsh sound of resignation from a hardened heart. “I am sure it was—especially the story of my escape. But only in the Cherokee newspapers. The story happened in the Cherokee Nation and it was about an Indian woman. White people or their newspapers would not care. What’s one more dead savage?”
Greyson suddenly looked ill at ease. “We’re a sorry lot, aren’t we? But you’re right, of course. White people wouldn’t care. At any rate, here you are alive. That makes you a threat—to your own family and to mine, since our two names and fortunes are to be united by this upcoming marriage between Amanda and Franklin.”
“But how am I a threat? I mean no harm—”
“I know you don’t. But someone does. Someone—we don’t know who yet—was mighty invested all these years in lies that kept you and your white family separated. You thought Amanda dead. She and your father thought you were dead. So, whoever it is who has worked so hard to keep you away is not going to be happy that you’re here.”
“I know this to be true. My mother sent me here, and she warned me that there was someone here who would want me dead. She told me to go to my father and to seek out Amanda. That being so, we can trust them.”
Greyson eyed her, a serious expression on his face. “You may be right. And she may be right. But that’s assuming she knows the real truth. What if she was lied to, Taylor? What then? See? The danger here, so far, has only been implied. Nothing has actually happened. But someone told those lies. And for reasons we don’t know. Perhaps we still shouldn’t reveal who you are at this time. It may be that the only reason you are safe is because no one in St. Louis—outside of you, me, and perhaps my mother—knows you’re alive.”
“Why do you say perhaps? She heard you call me Miss James. There is only one other Miss James besides Amanda. And that is me. She knows who I am. I saw it in her face.” Taylor hesitated but then asked the question that she felt needed to be asked. “Do you trust your mother with this knowledge that I live, Greyson?”
He gave her an odd look. Taylor realized why—she’d just said his name for the first time since telling him she would do so. But then he closed his eyes, squeezing them hard and pinching the bridge of his nose … giving the impression that he fought some sort of sudden pain. His mother, she believed, now filled his thoughts. When he opened his dark eyes, hurt was exposed in their depths. “No, Taylor. I don’t trust her at all.”
Silence passed heavily with each heartbeat a
s Taylor stared at Greyson. What an awful thing to have to admit, she mused. She couldn’t imagine having to say the same thing about her own mother, that she couldn’t trust the person who had given her life. A sudden sympathy for Greyson softened Taylor’s heart toward him. This man carried much pain inside him.
Just then, Greyson exhaled and went on. “All right. So what do we know? You’re here. And you’re alive. And you’re a convicted, uh, murderer who escaped jail. We can only hope the law doesn’t find that out.”
“It won’t matter if they do. Not in this, your country. Only in mine. Cherokee law is not upheld here.”
His expression became thoughtful. “That’s right. It’s not. It all makes sense now. That’s why your mother sent you here, isn’t it? Only in the Cherokee Nation are you wanted.”
“Yes,” Taylor confirmed for him.
Frowning, he shook his head, as if he was considering and turning over every eventuality and its consequences. “Well, still, should that become known, it has scandal written all over it. But even if you were the most sweet and innocent of girls, the simple fact that you are here and have Indian blood and—forgive me—are a, uh, bastard child is disastrous. Not that I care, Taylor. I’m speaking of my brother’s political opponents. You see, he’s running for mayor. And it looks like he has a pretty good chance of winning, too, despite his youth. So here poor Franklin has a socially brilliant marriage on the horizon and a budding political career. Everything was just dandy for both families … and then you arrived to upset the applecart of someone’s carefully constructed lies. Hence, my fear that danger lurks.”
Insulted, shamed, and yet full of pride, Taylor lifted her chin. “Then I will not remain here. I will go away now before my presence here is known. And before the truth can harm our families in any way.”
Greyson held up a hand to stop her from getting up. “No. That’s the last thing I want you to do. For one thing, there’s no guarantee that the trouble wouldn’t follow you. And for another, you may not care if you risk yourself, but I do. I feel responsible for you. And I want you to stay put. Right here. No more running off like you did today. Can you give me your word on that?”
Taylor was not about to acquiesce to such a high-handed demand. “No. I am responsible for me. Not you. And I know how to protect myself. I will not give you my word. If I have a need to leave, I will do so.”
Greyson stared at her and then ran a hand over his face. He exhaled, as if disgusted or as if just trying to figure out what to say next. His expression became pleading. “Taylor, you can’t leave. You need to think of my house as your fortress and me as your protector. As you said, this is my city, my people. You are a stranger here. And you are in danger. Already it’s too late to leave. Don’t you get it? My fear is that the person or persons who wish you harm could very well be someone in my family or yours. Maybe both.”
Taylor’s heart thumped painfully; her chest felt tight. Did no one want her to be alive? Would no one be happy that she was? Only now, at this moment, did she admit to herself just how much she’d wanted to be reunited with her father, even more so than she did with Amanda. Taylor had come here to see him, to know him … and to find out if he cared about her at all. What if he hated her and wanted her dead? She fought sudden and betraying tears.
And Greyson saw them. “Goddammit.” He spit the word out and jumped up with a suddenness that had Taylor shrinking back. In a state of tremendous agitation, he paced over to a long window behind his desk. None too gently, he pulled the drapery aside and stood there, staring out into the night. “I have a confession, Taylor.”
His voice was hard. He spared her a glance but just as quickly looked away from her, directing his gaze back outside to the night beyond the window.
“I’m not sure I wish to hear it.” That she was capable of such conviction in her voice at this moment surprised Taylor.
“Well, you’re going to, even though I know I shouldn’t be telling you any of this. You see, all damned afternoon I kept hoping you’d come back. I kept wishing I’d stopped you from leaving. I told myself I was just concerned for your being alone on the streets here. But that’s not true. Well, it’s not the whole truth.” He again sought her gaze. This time his eyes held hers as he continued. “I wanted you back because you—”
He muttered something under his breath. To Taylor, across the room, it sounded like “son of a bitch.”
Again he turned away from her, watching the night. “I wanted you back because … I wanted you back. It’s that simple. In the space of one day, Taylor, you made me realize everything that was lacking in my life. You showed me more excitement and meaning than I’ve ever known before. You showed me a world with possibilities. A chance to claim a life I never hoped to find. In short, I saw in you the possibility to save me from myself. I don’t admit that lightly. But I wanted you back so bad I could taste it. I wished for it. I prayed for it. And now … here you are. And now that you are, with everything it can mean to our families, I don’t know whether to thank you or to hate you for making me feel all that. All I know, Taylor, is that if you go away, I will die.”
Taylor sat absolutely, perfectly, rigidly still. There was an air in the room. An air that glowed, that was scented with threat and promise. A gossamer-thin web of a spell weaving itself around them … and between them. There was nothing soft and beautiful to it. Its wisps were of jagged steel. Cutting. Tearing. It spoke of darkness. Of wanting. Yearning. Of hate. And anger. Of secrets too long kept. Of promises too soon broken. Of lies and truths. Lust and danger. Love. Death. Rube’s curse … again. Nothing and no one she loved would ever prosper.
Taylor came to her feet and stood there, staring his way, memorizing Greyson’s back. His broad shoulders. His tapered waist, slim hips, and long legs. She exhaled. If she were strong, if she cared anything at all about this man, she would leave. She knew that what he said was not true—he would die if she stayed … not if she left. But the truth between them was as he had said—it was too late. For them both.
Taylor suspended thought and said nothing as she soundlessly picked her way around the furniture. She glided toward him, toward her fate. She had no idea if he could save her from the curse. Or if, one day, he would kill her when all the truths were known and her enemies were exposed. But still and steadily … she went to him.
She stood behind him. She knew he’d realized she was there. She’d seen her image in the window’s reflective glass, heard his hissing intake of breath when he did, too. He didn’t move. Didn’t turn to her. Taylor wasn’t so sure he could. She wasn’t so sure there wasn’t something alive and unseen holding him in place, just as it had her moments ago. Maybe this thing, whatever it was, resided with her, inside her. Was it good or evil? Did it matter?
Taylor reached her hands out, inching her cold and trembling fingers toward Grey. Slowly, as if it caused her great pain to do so, she wrapped her arms around his torso and held him to her. She pressed her cheek against his back, feeling his warm and muscled flesh, even through his shirt. And pronounced the thing done.
Under her hands, against her cheek, against her hips pressed to his backside, she felt him tremble.
* * *
Grey awoke the next morning holding Taylor in his arms. He lay at her back, his arms around her, his cheek resting against her head. Coal black silken strands of her hair covered his arm and flowed onto the sheet that covered them both. She was asleep … and as naked as he was, only more so, somehow. To Grey, it was as if her soft skin covered an underlying and luminous being. She glowed from within. How could that be? He knew all too well from last night that she was a flesh-and-blood woman—a sensually alive and responsive woman. An experienced woman. That detracted not one whit from her desirability to him. Because there was also about her an air of innocence, as well as an aura of the divine … a pagan goddess who was blameless, who had arisen from the very earth itself and had deigned to lie with him.
He felt honored. And he revered her. Either that
or he was a besotted fool who would soon find himself spouting romantic poetry and climbing the dear lady’s balcony—only to have her thoroughly scalp him for his daring and his idiocy. Grey chuckled at himself, thankful that his sense of humor was still in place when nothing else in his life was. Or would be from this day forward, he suspected, considering the woman he now held in his arms.
“Why do you laugh?”
Grey stilled. She was awake. “Because I fear I may be a silly fool.”
She shifted in his arms, dislodging their covering sheet, and turned over to face him. In one smooth motion, she tugged her cascade of hair back from her face and again lay in his arms, their limbs entangled deliciously. Grey enjoyed each and every movement of hers. Her own nakedness, now exposed to him from the waist up, was of no apparent or blushing concern to her. In fact, she didn’t even seem to be aware of it. “You have no need to fear,” she said solemnly. “You are no fool, silly or otherwise.”
Grey chuckled again, feeling alive with a world of possibilities because she was in his life and in his bed. “That’s good to hear.”
She ran her long slender fingers through the hair on his chest. She seemed to love doing that. And he certainly didn’t mind. “Why did you think you were a fool?”
Delighting in their cocoon of intimacy here in his bed, with the draperies drawn against the morning’s light, Grey peppered her high, smooth forehead with kisses. “Well, my dear, because you’re here with me. And because of everything we, er, have done. And what it means, I suppose.”
She stopped her tender ministrations to his chest and looked up at him. A thrill chased through Grey. He felt certain he could drown in those blue eyes of hers. But her expression was a frowning one. “What does it mean to you, these things we have done?”
“What does it mean? Well, let me consider.” The truth was her question gave him pause. He hadn’t thought beyond the moments of intense desire for her last night when he’d swept up the stairs with her holding his hand and just as eager as he had been. As he thought now, Grey roved his appreciative gaze over her face, memorizing her features … the wide blue eyes, the high cheekbones, the soft, firm mouth, the perfect nose. He was suddenly overcome. “You are so very beautiful, Taylor.”
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