by Ana Morgan
“It was awful. Everyone stared like I was a two-headed steer on a fancy smorgasbord table.” She stood, walked to the farthest window, and looked out at the moonless night.
He followed, trying to stay calm, hoping that whatever had upset her was minor and simple to soothe. “Stormy, tell me what happened.”
“How well do you know your sister-in-law?”
There it was. The question he’d hoped to avoid. His stomach clenched as he stared at his shoes and picked his words. If Stormy hated knowing he’d once loved Candy, it would be over between them. He’d lose his one chance at happiness. “I used to know her well, but that was a long time ago.”
“Well, I don’t like her.” Raising a hand, she struck the window with the side of her fist. The glass vibrated ominously. “At first, it seemed she was saving me from Lady Dooms. Then, she started interrogating me.”
He held his breath again and prayed that Candy had not asked if Stormy had found the puckered, snag-of-a-scar on his left buttock. Or, discovered he was ticklish on the back side of his knees. Surely, Candy had as much to lose from revealing their past as he did.
“In case you don’t know, being from the wild west and all, cornflower blue is last year’s color.” Stormy mimicked Candy’s scheming Southern belle voice. “How do you feel about moving to St. Louis and becoming a Society wife?”
Relieved, Blade winced sympathetically. “What did you say?”
“I looked her straight in the eye and said I intended to buy the biggest house in Lafayette Square and hold exclusive soirees to discuss great literature. You should’ve seen her jaw drop.”
He exploded with laughter.
“Why are you laughing? Your mother squealed with delight. Now, she wants to take me house shopping as well as clothes shopping.” She glared at him. “My home is in Prosperity.”
“And, my home is wherever you are. I want to live in Prosperity with you.” He walked to the bed, jimmied off his boots, and propped his back against the puffy bolster. “Your lie gives me an idea. I need your help.”
“Finally. Anything’s better than high tea with snippy socialites.” She rushed to the bed and perched on her knees in the middle. “What can I do?”
“You have to come closer. We’re plotting. Someone might overhear.”
She glanced quickly toward the door.
“Up here, next to me.” When her shoulder rubbed against his, he fought the temptation to stroke her thigh. “Ask Candy to accompany you.”
“To look at houses? Why?”
“This morning, Mouse watched as Candy gave Peabody a sum of money.”
“That doesn’t make sense. If she supplied Peabody with details for the report Purdy showed you about your family, he would pay her, not the other way around.” Stormy sat straight up and faced him. “She could be settling up for a job he did for her.”
“Or, hiring him to do something new.”
“It’s quite a coincidence that she’d hire the same investigator as Jonathan Vance.”
“I agree. If you took Candy to look for houses, you might be able to figure out—”
“Why she paid Peabody.” Stormy’s eyes darkened to a midnight blue. “What about your mother? This is leading her on. I refuse to hurt her feelings.”
“When it’s all over, I’ll grovel and make amends.”
“No. You’ll say it was your idea, and I was following orders.”
“Got it.” He tugged on her arms and teased her onto his lap. Her weight settled deliciously on his thighs. He leaned forward, intending to kiss her.
To his dismay, she shook her hands free, scooted to the foot of the bed, and turned her back.
“Candy said something else,” she said. “In front of everybody.”
Moving quickly, he knelt on the floor in front of her and managed to keep his voice even. “Can you tell me?”
She avoided his eyes. Shook her head.
“Tell me, please.”
Imitating Candy again, she said, “I’d never marry a man who bought such an ugly engagement ring. Even if I loved him to death.”
Wishing his hands were around his ex-fiancée’s throat, Blade clenched his fists. She had no cause to treat Stormy cruelly. After he took care of Peabody, he’d force her to apologize. “The ring,” he ordered. “Take it off.”
Stormy’s wrist bent. She wiggled her fingers until the diamond-dotted band slipped off and fell onto his outstretched hand. Still seething, he rose from the bed and threw the ring down into the dainty refuse bin beside the vanity.
Behind him, Stormy’s trembling voice pierced his rage. “I’ll need a ticket home.”
He turned in time to see her sad eyes fill with tears. Heart in his throat, he rushed back to the bed. “Forgive me, sweetheart, please. This is all my fault. I bought that ring when I was a river rat and thought it could buy me love.” He blotted her cheeks tenderly. “First thing tomorrow morning, we’ll go downtown and commission three new ones. We’ll run our fingers through diamonds and rubies until you pick the gems you want for an engagement ring. Then, we’ll buy matching wedding rings.”
She looked unconvinced. “That’ll cost an awful lot of money.”
“Now you sound like a Society wife.” He grinned like a fool and waited for her to smile back.
She didn’t. “I want to get married under the black-walnut tree. And, we will invite your parents.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“Your mother thinks I’m the tiara and train type, but I’m not. I’m boots and bandanas, clothes you can work in.”
“Got it. I’ll tell her not to expect a harpist or a seven-tiered wedding cake.”
Her chin lifted with the stubborn set he’d come to love. “We’re going to do things the way I want from now on.”
He sat back on his heels and traced circles on her knees. “What will we do after the ceremony?”
The corners of her mouth turned up. “Clean the barn, of course.”
“I know what we can do on a fluffy bed of straw.” His hands dove under the hem of her pastel-blue dress and slid up her silk stockings.
She swatted ineffectively at his traveling hands. “We have to check fences first.”
Cupping her rump, he pulled her toward him. The skirt of her day dress slid up around her hips, exposing her garters. “Remind me to tie a blanket to Belinda’s saddle.”
“Running Bear might have beans to shell. The stove always needs more split wood.”
“After all that work, we’ll definitely need a bath.” He stood and shimmed his legs between hers, pressed his swelling johnson against her black satin panties. “You, me, naked in hot water.”
“Hot water makes me floppy.” She slumped back onto the mattress and giggled like a schoolyard child waiting to be tagged.
He leaned over her, set his hands next to her shoulders, and looked down.
Her laughter stilled. A flush spread across her cheeks and down her neck. Her breasts rose and fell in siren waves.
The swelling of his heart outpaced the pounding in his johnson. He wanted to marry her tomorrow. After picking rings, they could run to the blue-domed courthouse and hire a judge. They could still have a ceremony in Prosperity. Maybe he could convince her to let his mother host a party for her Society.
“Stormy?” Her name escaped his lips like a plea. “May I kiss you?”
She raised her arms, hooked her hands around his neck, and pulled his face close to hers. “Yes.”
Chapter 27
Seven in the morning was far too early for Candy to be dressed, let alone have an appetite for Sam’s favorite three-inch wide biscuits and hip-padding gravy. Sitting next to Jared at her mother-in-law’s breakfast table never put her in a good humor.
Today, she was ready to bi
te off heads. The new maid had laced her corset too tightly, and Sam had just overruled her request to fire the hulking woman. Her spineless husband hadn’t lifted a finger in her defense.
Leaning away from him, she studied Blade and Stormy across the wide table.
Telltale signs gave away that they’d made love last night. They’d entered the dining room holding hands. He’d pulled out her chair and poured her coffee. Sitting with their arms touching, they’d whispered things that elicited private smiles.
Stormy’s lips were pink and puffy, a sure indication she’d been well kissed. She also ate like a horse, downing three big biscuits smothered with thick sausage gravy and debating out loud whether she wanted a fourth.
She had a trim figure now, Candy thought to herself, but she couldn’t keep eating like that. It would serve Blade right to marry a farmer’s daughter and have her turn lumpy on him.
He looked far more handsome and virile than her husband. Jared’s hairline was receding as fast as his paunch spread. From the glow on Stormy’s cheeks, Blade’s sexual prowess now matched his enthusiasm. He’d be an entertaining diversion if she wasn’t waiting for Sam to die.
As soon as Sam passed, Jared would inherit one-third of the Masters Investment and Trust. She intended to control the family fortune like she controlled him.
She’d already browbeaten Jared until he’d named her executor of his estate in his will, and listed Patrick and Natalie as sole beneficiaries.
Mary would be easy to oust. The girl was sweet on some man at her conservatory.
She’d make Jared bless their marriage and gift them a townhouse on some narrow street near the opera house in Vienna. Mary would live an ocean away, studying the harpsichord and tossing flowers on Mozart’s grave.
Yes, her scheme to control the Masters’ fortune had been on a smooth track until yesterday, when Blade confided he was coming back.
She’d driven a permanent wedge between Blade and his brother five years ago, but instead of fighting for her, he’d slunk off in search of his boyish dream of owning a ranch. Stayed away, too, sending terse wires each time he completed a sale that added to the bank’s wealth.
His latest communique had said he’d found property and wanted only his commission money. His little fiancée must have convinced him to reconsider. The greedy wench was heir to a fortune and wanted more.
“We must leave soon, Olivia.” She smiled sweetly at her mother-in-law before she peered at Blade’s intended. “Stormy, we have appointments with every florist in the city.”
“Stormy and I have plans.” Blade didn’t take his eyes off his devil-haired lady. “You start. We’ll catch up.”
“I thought I was clear.” Candy scrunched her face into a stern pout. “I can’t plan your wedding without Stormy’s undivided attention.”
“This is wedding related.” Stormy’s eyes shone with excitement. “We’re picking our rings.”
“Oh.” Candy acted defeated, but inwardly she gloated. The comment she’d fired yesterday about Stormy’s engagement ring had struck right where she’d aimed. Stormy was going to be just as easy to control as Jared and his sister.
Stormy’s belly looked flat right now, but her answers to a barrage of questions revealed she and Blade had only been intimate for a few weeks. If she was pregnant, most likely she didn’t know it yet. Ample time to ensure Stormy never gave birth to a healthy baby boy or girl with rights to the bank’s vault.
Peabody had agreed to do the dirty work for a big one-time fee.
No one would ever know the poison was Candy Masters’ idea.
Chapter 28
Stormy was ready to scream.
For six days in a row, she’d oohed dutifully at staircase wainscoting and endured debates between Candy and Blade’s mother over whether live-in servants should occupy attic or basement rooms. Mary’s friend, Emily Llewellyn, tittered like a schoolgirl in every bedroom they toured and whispered in her ear, ‘Imagine Blade naked in here.’
Candy had not uttered a word about her private investigator. She seemed hell bent on planning a wedding that no future Society bride could top. She’d already found fault with Olivia’s dressmakers and insisted Stormy needed a gown-maker named Madame Zarov.
Madame had just finished measuring every span and circumference of Stormy’s body, and overruled her protests that she didn’t like billowy sleeves or bone-stiffened bodices. With great fanfare, Madame scheduled an entire day for fabric selection.
Stormy longed to put on boots and denims. To do some productive, physical work. To have a conversation that was not laced with gossip or innuendo.
Following an attendant who carried Olivia, Candy, and Emily’s purchases, she trudged out of Madam Zarov’s shop. Blade’s mother settled into her carriage and arranged the four large, round hat boxes on the seat beside her.
Stormy set her foot on the carriage step only to have Candy and Emily pull her back like doting parents, saving their toddler from falling in front of a train. Before she could try to climb up again, Candy waved on Olivia’s driver.
“We’ll meet you at home, Olivia,” Candy called. “Emily and I want to make one more stop.”
As soon as Olivia’s carriage turned the corner, Emily giggled. “Father would kill me if he knew where we were going.”
Candy hailed a passing hansom, which drove them through a bewildering maze of uneven streets and narrow alleys. Stormy lost sight of the sun and soon could not tell which way was east or west.
When the hansom finally stopped and they got out, the air reeked of rotting fish and riverboat smoke. They were in an old section of the city, close to the docks, in front of shop called Fifi’s, whose showroom window displayed racy lingerie in come-hither hues, the kind Aimee and Marie wore at Purdy’s Place.
Stormy looked questioningly at Candy.
Candy smiled cryptically. “Something for your wedding night.”
“But, I don’t want—”
The store’s door opened. A well-dressed gentleman, carrying a small bag, stepped out and tipped his hat.
“Blade doesn’t like—”
“Oh, Stormy. Don’t be a spoilsport.” Emily tugged on her arm and pulled her into the store.
A pretty sales clerk, wearing a black smock embroidered with the store’s name, waited on a woman who stood in front of a full-length mirror. The customer kicked up her leg. Layers of petticoats flounced under a red dance hall dress. The clerk nodded at something the woman said and disappeared into a back room.
On the opposite side of the shop, another woman parted the curtain of a dressing room and posed in a peek-a-boo for a scar-faced man holding a small, pug-nosed dog.
Candy stepped deep into the shop and examined a high-collared, embroidered Oriental nightdress that appeared decent until she pointed out hidden slits in the skirt. She lifted the nightdress off its display. “Blade might like this, Stormy. Try it on.”
“No.” Again wishing she were riding home with Blade’s mother, Stormy crossed her arms and sidled closer to the door.
“Well, I will.” Emily plucked a larger-sized nightdress off a nearby rack and fluttered toward the dressing booth, fingering full-figured camisoles and bustiers along the way.
The store bell trilled.
Stormy stepped aside for a newcomer dressed in dark trousers and a tan day coat. He carried an unusual walking stick. Its large brass knob was shaped like a lion’s head.
He looked directly at her. The intensity of his gaze made her skin crawl.
“What about this?” Candy held up a sheer, chiffon-and-lace bridal peignoir.
Eager to put distance between herself and the man, Stormy seized the padded ivory hanger and carried the boudoir robe toward the dressing booth. “Emily, let me in.”
“Wait your turn.” Emily’s voice w
as shrill with exasperation. “I’m not decent.”
The bell over the door chimed again.
Stormy turned in time to see the man leave. When the door clicked shut, she heaved a sigh of relief.
Candy walked around the shop, picking out a cincher, palm-sized panties, and other items Stormy could not name. “For the honeymoon.”
Stormy blushed. It might be fun to surprise Blade one night. Once they returned to the ranch, the only way to shop for unmentionables was by mail order. One could never be sure about the fit, or who would open the package first. Brownie was overly curious about anything that arrived in brown paper wrapping.
Emily stepped out of the dressing booth carrying several lacy garments. “I’m buying these. I’ll wear them in my room with the door locked.” She looked at the items Stormy held. “Ooh, those are nice.”
Stormy entered the changing space. While she undressed, she overheard Emily chatting with the sales clerk. The cash register rang. She stepped into a peek-a-boo and tugged it up, aware the back laces would need more tightening.
“There’s a jewelry store across the street.” Candy spoke through the curtain. “We’ll be right back.”
“Wait!”
Stormy heard the bell.
Footsteps. Emily was coming back.
She slipped her arms into the peignoir, half-tied the sash, and slid open the curtain.
Her heart leapt into her throat.
The man with the lion’s head walking stick stood before her. He slapped the brass knob threateningly against his palm. “Come with me, Miss Hawkins. Quietly, or I’ll knock you out and carry you.”
Shaking with fear, she stepped out of the changing booth. The shop appeared to be empty.
He set his hand heavily on her shoulder, steered her to the sales counter, and tossed a thick, sealed envelope at the cowering sales clerk.