The Lady Who Drew Me In

by Thomasine Rappold

  “To release you from our bargain.”

  He stared, slumping back in his seat. The relief she’d expected to see in his eyes never appeared.

  She took a fortified breath and plowed through her surprise. “I’ve come to realize that my feelings about having a child have changed.”

  He tilted his head. “You no longer want a child?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “Bullshit.”

  She winced against the anger in his eyes. She’d assumed he’d respond as he had when she’d first offered him his freedom in exchange for a child. With reluctance but relief.

  Her change of heart about a child had resulted in quite the opposite, and she scrambled to explain.

  “For almost two months, I’ve watched you work on this case,” she said. “And you will succeed in solving it; I don’t doubt it for a minute. You’ve been driven by your goal to get to St. Louis, and I believe you will have a bright future there. I cannot let you sacrifice what you want out of some sense of duty to me.”

  He eyed her with harsh skepticism. “So you’re doing this for me?”

  She lowered her gaze, and he had his answer.

  “I didn’t think so,” he said.

  She glanced up. “Jackson—”

  “You are doing this for you.” Anger weighted his words, but she heard pain in them too. “You don’t want a child fathered by a man like me. A carouser.”

  He tossed back her own words, and she cringed from the brunt of them.

  “You want a child, but you don’t want my child.”

  The sharp edge of his voice pierced through her soul “That’s not true.” Not for the reasons he thought, anyway.

  “Isn’t it?” He shot to his feet. “I am unworthy of fathering your child. Unworthy of giving you the one thing you are desperate for.” His reproachful eyes bore down on her. “Unlike your former husband, who was so worthy you risked his life for it.”

  The cruel remark hit as intended. Devastating and exact. She’d wounded his pride, and he’d fired back with the bullets she’d provided. Confiding in him had been a mistake. She braced herself against the impact of this painful discovery and forced herself to breathe.

  Her lungs filled with air, and tears stung her eyes. “My reason for releasing you from our bargain was for your sake.” Her voice trembled. “For the man I’d thought you’d become.”

  “That’s a lie, and you know it. But know this as well.” He gave a thud to his chest. “This man has not caroused any farther than the Lake Tavern. And he’s not so much as looked at another woman since the day he married you.”

  She blinked at his declaration, which seemed to anger him more.

  “The hell with this.” He tossed up his hands, turning away. “I quit.”

  The two words were the worst she could hear. “You can’t quit. You promised Randal Morgan.”

  He turned to face her. “That is not what I meant. I have no intention of quitting this case, but it’s telling that you’d thought so.”

  She had no defense. How had things gotten so mixed up? So twisted around? “Do not presume to know what I think,” she said. “I’ve had faith in you all along.”

  “Because you were desperate! You had no other choice!”

  She shook her head. “You are the one who’s afraid you will fail, Jackson. Not me. You are the one who believes you’re not good enough. And you can run all the way to St. Louis—all over the world—but you can’t run from yourself.”

  The clench of his jaw slackened as he took in her words. He looked strangely serene. “That may be true,” he said with a nod. “I might run from myself. I might run from the mistakes of my past.” He pointed an accusatory finger. “But you wallow in yours.”

  Her stomach dropped to her feet.

  “You fester in guilt, blaming yourself for everything. You spend your life trying to atone for things that weren’t even your fault. Trying to prove your worth to the world because your parents didn’t want you.”

  She choked back her tears but said nothing. There was a fine line between love and hate, and she teetered on the cusp of it.

  Averting his eyes, he took a deep breath. “I am far from perfect, but I was willing to stay.” He shrugged in surrender. “Since your plan has now changed, and you don’t want my child, I will move into a room downstairs.” He turned and started away, looking more defeated than angry. He stopped at the door. “I will solve this case, and then, rest assured, I will go. And you can proceed with the life you have planned.”

  * * * *

  Jackson’s pulse pounded in his ears as he charged down the hall. He’d offered to stay—he’d wanted to stay—and the woman he loved had rejected him.

  The fact pained him physically, but it was the truth behind her rejection that hurt most. Daisy wanted a child, and there was no way on this earth she would give up the chance to be a mother if she deemed him the least bit worthy of fathering it.

  A few short weeks ago, he’d have been relieved to be discharged from this part of their deal. Today he felt crushed. But most of all he felt angry. Clenching his trembling fists, he stomped down the stairs.

  While he’d been trying to solve the case for Morgan, he realized he was solving it for Daisy, as well. To prove himself to her, not for some job in St. Louis. But Daisy’s support was meant only to hasten his departure. She had her money, and she’d get her day home. He’d hoped she would come to see there was more to him than his corrupt reputation. He’d tried to make her happy, to be everything she deserved, but he’d been fooling himself on that score as well.

  When he’d thought she was pregnant, he’d swelled with joy. His reaction had surprised him. In that moment, he’d seen their future together, something honest and real, and he’d never wanted anything more.

  In defense of his shattered pride, he’d aimed to hurt her as she had hurt him. Armed with her innermost fears, he’d struck back with a cruelty he hadn’t known he possessed. The memory of her pained face filled him with shame. Another rare emotion she seemed to invoke in him, although it changed nothing.

  Daisy had confirmed what he’d known all along. He was not good enough for her. Truth be told, he couldn’t imagine a man who was.

  With a curse, Jackson ran a hand through his hair. He would close this case. He would honor his promise to Randal Morgan. He’d finish what he’d started—what he’d come here to do—but he would do it for himself.

  Daisy wasn’t the only one who had plans.

  Chapter 22

  Daisy sat in her room, staring out the window at Jackson outside. He stood by the shore, tossing crumbs to the geese. Apparently, he hosted supper for his feathered friends as well as breakfast. He swiped his empty hands before shooing the geese toward the water, and wherever they’d settle in for the night.

  Jackson turned to walk back toward the house, and she ducked from window until he disappeared inside. In stony misery, she returned to the view of the lake and the sun sinking behind the tall pines. Dusk settled over the day like a soft gray blanket, growing denser as the minutes passed. A single star winked in the desolate sky, the sight filling her with a bleak loneliness that spurred her to tears.

  He’d offered to stay, and she’d turned him down.

  Daisy had been so intent on protecting herself from her feelings for him, she’d never considered the possibility that she might hurt him. She longed to tell him she loved him, that she wanted his child. He would never believe her now, or worse, he wouldn’t care. He was so angry.

  While it had hurt to hear it, what he’d said about her was true. Her guilt had become a part of her, a force as powerful as her entranced drawing. She’d let guilt control her. Jackson had seen this in her when no one else had. He’d looked, and he’d listened. He’d cared.

  How strange that only one night before, they’d slept in their bed, their naked bodies entwined, with no intimation it would be the last time they touched—that th
ey’d shared their last kiss.

  Clasping her hand to her mouth, she fought to stifle the anguish of living without him. She’d done her best to prepare herself for his eventual departure, but she’d never expected so hostile an ending to their time together. But with one irrevocable conversation, she’d managed to destroy everything between them, including any chance for a civil good-bye.

  She wiped angrily at her tears. She still had access to her money and her independence. What more could any sensible woman want? Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.

  Jackson.

  She shot to her feet.

  “Mrs. Gallway,” Kotterman called through the door. “I have your supper.”

  She exhaled in disappointment. Jackson had sent Kotterman in his stead. Collecting herself, she said, “Yes, Kotterman, come in.” She returned to her seat.

  The man stepped inside and placed her supper tray on the table in front of her. “Do you need anything else before I leave for Troy?” he asked.

  She stared, puzzled. “You’re heading to the city at this hour?”

  “I’m to deliver an urgent message for your husband.”

  The mere reference of Jackson as her husband filled her with sorrow. “Is that so?” she asked, trying hard to sound nonchalant. She gave a stiff shake to her napkin, then placed it on her lap. “To whom is this message addressed?”

  Kotterman fished into his pocket. “Miss Ida Remsen,” he read.

  At Daisy’s reaction, he looked suddenly sheepish.

  “I’m to wait for a reply.”

  She inhaled a deep breath to summon her voice. The pungent scent of onions drifted from the bowl of beef stew, turning her already queasy stomach. “Where is Mr. Gallway?”

  “He’s resting in the library,” Kotterman said. “He asked me to wake him before I leave.”

  “I see. Well, I need nothing from the city, so by all means, deliver my husband’s message.”

  Kotterman exited with a nod.

  Daisy slumped back in her seat. So much for her worry she’d hurt him. The throb in her shoulder intensified with the throb in her heart. It certainly hadn’t taken Jackson long to solicit a diversion.

  The memory of interrupting his tryst with Miss Swootz played through Daisy’s mind. Her eyes filled with the picture of Jackson’s stark look of panic that night—the night Daisy had ended his bachelorhood and forced his world crashing down on his ears.

  Frowning, she pushed away the steaming bowl of stew. She glanced to the vial of laudanum she hadn’t touched all day, spurning the temptation to take a small dose.

  She’d made it clear to Jackson that she wanted him to leave Misty Lake, and he’d made it clear that he would. He was a rake at heart, and he was proving it now.

  “Miss Ida Remsen, indeed,” she mumbled. Had she really expected anything less of him? She wiped at her tears, because the sad truth was, she had.

  * * * *

  Jackson woke to a cramp in his neck and the dread of reality. For a moment, he’d thought it all a bad dream. He glanced at the clock. He’d been sleeping for less than an hour, but if felt more like days. The whiskey and ensuing nap had done nothing to ease his troubled mind, and the ugly scene with Daisy came painfully into focus. His head hurt from drinking and thinking, and his chest ached. While Daisy’s past was haunted by ghosts, his was haunted by living, breathing reminders to the people he’d hurt. Reminders like Buchanan, who appeared out of nowhere.

  Jackson sighed, slumping in shame. He realized now the damage he’d caused to Easterly. As a husband in love with his wife, Jackson could now relate to the pain of a wife’s betrayal. The fury toward any man who’d dare touch her….

  The urge to give up on it all was overwhelming. In the wake of the maelstrom with Daisy, the thought of packing his bags and leaving her and the case behind became more appealing as the moments passed.

  But he wouldn’t succumb to the instinct to run. Not this time. Not yet. He would finish what he’d started and prove Morgan’s innocence. He would earn that damn reference for St. Louis, then continue his life as it was before he’d met the beautiful widow who’d turned his world upside down.

  The woman who’d taken his heart, then handed it back to him.

  Even now, in the hellfire of his emotions, he could not bring himself to regret the past six weeks with her. How could he, when he’d never been happier?

  Marriage to Daisy had given him something he’d never had before, something he’d never known he’d wanted or needed. Faith in himself. The belief that he could succeed and had something to offer.

  Daisy helped open his mind and his heart, and for the first time in his life, he’d allowed something to matter.

  He strode to the sideboard and poured himself a cup of coffee. After settling down on the sofa, he opened his files and spread them on the cushion beside him. He needed to finish this case. The sooner he was on his way, the better.

  Jackson tried to focus on the files, but it was difficult to concentrate. Although Kotterman had just departed for Troy, Jackson was anxious for his return and Ida’s reply. Information garnered in the city could prove critical. He’d have preferred to attain it himself, but he couldn’t leave Daisy unprotected. Even with Kotterman watching over her yesterday, Jackson had worried for her while he was in Barston. The trip to Troy was far too long to be away.

  He supposed he could have arranged for Dannion and Tessa to come stay with her, but with things the way they were between him and Daisy, he thought better of involving them now. They’d find out soon enough about their impending separation. Why hasten the inevitable?

  Instead, he’d scribbled a note to Ida, one of the clerks at the post office, instructing her to pore through the wanted notices looking for someone named Paddy. Ida had a fondness for Jackson and would help him any way she could.

  The city seemed so distant, not in a measure of miles but memories. Pursuits he’d once enjoyed no longer enticed him as they had, and strangely his pining for the city had waned.

  He’d grown accustomed to waking each morning in the country, found stimulation in the view of the pristine lake, chirping birds, crisp country air.

  Any plans of returning to Troy had consisted of spending a night on the town with Daisy, but it was evident now that this was no longer in the cards.

  He pushed rueful thoughts from his head and concentrated on the present. With Kotterman personally delivering the note to Ida in Troy, Jackson was able to remain here with Daisy, not that he was ready to face her.

  After all that had been spoken between them, what more could he say?

  He shuffled through the pages of his notes. He would start at the beginning, and work his way through the case. You and Paddy are the only ones who believe I’m innocent.

  If this Paddy person was a friend of Morgan’s, perhaps he had visited him in jail. Jackson slumped back in his seat. The chance the killer would stroll into the jailhouse to visit the man he’d set up as a patsy was preposterous. Even so, Jackson was suddenly curious to know who’d visited Morgan.

  If Jackson’s hunch was right, the real killer had disguised himself as a friend of Morgan’s. A trusty pal. Something sparked in Jackson’s mind. Disguise? He sat straighter as the possibility materialized in his mind.

  He dug to the bottom of the stack of papers for the list of Morgan’s visitors at the jailhouse. He hadn’t so much as glanced at the page since he’d first acquired it two months ago. Cursing, he intensified his fruitless search. He finally located the blasted thing and propped it on top of the stack.

  He scanned the page, and his eyes fixed on the third name on the short list. His heart stopped. Then it pounded so hard he thought it might burst through his chest. He sifted through the papers for the sketch of the man Andy had described. He studied it closely, amazed by what he now saw.

  “My God,” he uttered, as all the pieces of the puzzle snapped firmly into place. He bolted from the sofa, sketch i
n hand.

  He took the stairs to their room two at a time. He flung open the door, then turned up the lamp. The room came alive with amber light. “Wake up, Daisy.” He shook her more roughly than he meant to. “Wake up.”

  “What is it?” she asked, struggling to get up. He helped her to a sitting position as she swiped the disheveled hair from her face.

  “I need you to draw for me.”

  “What? Right now?”

  “Yes, now.” He held up the sketch, then shoved it at her. “I think I know who the killer is, but I need your help to be sure.”

  Her sleepy eyes gleamed with surprise. “Hand me my sketch pad,” she said with a nod.

  He reached for the pad, positioning it next to the sketch on her lap.

  Containing his excitement, he handed her a pencil and sat on the bed beside her. “I need you to listen carefully,” he said. “And do exactly as I say.”

  * * * *

  Daisy stared at the face she’d just drawn, unable to believe her own eyes. “Dear Lord,” she uttered in amazement. “But how—”

  “He’s one clever son-of-a-bitch, that’s how,” Jackson said. “I have to notify the sheriff. I’ve already sent Kotterman to Troy for information on the wanted notices, which I predict will confirm everything. In the meantime, I can’t leave you here alone.” He helped her from the bed, then began gathering her things. “While I get the sheriff, I want you to go next door to the Wyman’s and wait for me there.”

  After helping her dress, he wrapped her in her shawl. With a glance around the room, he located the vial of laudanum. “It always hurts worse in the evening,” he reminded her. “It could be hours before it’s safe for you to return home.”

  His concern for her comfort at so critical a time surprised her. She swallowed hard, stuffing the vial into her skirt pocket along with a fresh handkerchief and the spare house key. “I’ll be fine,” she said. “Go alert the sheriff.”

  She handed him the sketch, glancing once more at the face staring back at her. She still couldn’t believe it.

  They hurried downstairs, and Jackson led Daisy to the door. “Stay with the Wymans until I return for you,” he repeated.