Carole Howey - Sheik's Glory

by Carole Howey

  Seamus laughed, although Missy suspected the jest was more for her benefit than his. She did not feel like laughing, even a little. She lowered her gaze in consent, anxious to be quit of Seamus Muldaur's company.

  She stepped back and allowed Seamus access to his brother's side.

  "I'll fetch my doctoring things and be up directly," she murmured, wanting to touch Flynn's hand, yet feeling awkward and self-conscious before their audience.

  Flynn let out a small grunt as he landed, with Seamus's assistance, on his feet before her. He swayed a little but brushed aside his brother's further gesture of support.

  "Come here." He growled the words to Missy, but they were more an invitation than a command. She found herself in his arms and she forgot to feel embarrassed.

  "Give me a few minutes to find out what he's doing here," he whispered in her ear, then gave her lobe a lick. Her body shuddered with delight and her cheeks heated. Did he truly want her close, or had he merely wanted an excuse to whisper that instruction? She found it did not matter to her. She held him another moment, carefully, mindful of his bruises. When she finally let him go, she was warmed all over again to see that he was trying to smile at her.

  "You look a sight," she told him, touching his mud-and blood-caked brow.

  "I know," he replied, his voice soft from tenderness rather than frailty. "And I'm in for it with Gideon. Try to explain it to him for me, would you?"

  "How can I do that when I don't understand it myself?"

  By rights, Missy knew she should be angry at Flynn for having violated the very tenet they'd both tried to impress upon Gideon, but she could feel nothing but tenderness and desire. He'd done what he'd done out of love for her. Misguidedly, perhaps. Certainly unwisely; his bruises were proof of that. But she could not doubt his reasons for doing so.

  Seamus be damned. She stood on tiptoe, intending to kiss Flynn's throat, but he dropped his head at the last moment and took her lips with his, long enough to re mind her that, for better or for worse, her heart belonged to him.

  ''How long have you been in town?"

  Flynn lacked both the energy and the patience to exchange niceties with his brother as the latter helped him slowly up the stairs. It was best, he figured, that he learn as much about Seamus's motives as he could before either he passed out from pain or Missy came to his room to see to his various hurts. Whatever Seamus's reasons, Flynn wanted to shield Missy from as much as possible.

  "We don't have to talk about that now." Seamus grunted as he hoisted Flynn up another step, his shoulder wedged into Flynn's armpit. "Damn, I think you've put on twenty or thirty pounds since I last saw you. Pickings must be pretty good out here in"

  "We talk right now, or we don't talk." Flynn cut him off, gritting his teeth as he took another step. "Missy doesn't know anything about our . . . arrangement, and I mean for it to stay that way. Damn it!" A bolt of pain went into his rib cage as if an arrow had been shot through him.

  "Well, that makes sense, even if nothing else does," Seamus said under his breath. "What do you intend, marrying the woman?"

  A white-hot flare ignited in Flynn's breast that had nothing whatever to do with his aches and bruises.

  "Missy," he said deliberately, pausing in his ascent to glare at Seamus. "Her name is Miss Cannon. You'll address her as Miss Cannon until she gives you leave to do otherwise. Understood? She's worth a hundred of the kind of women you associate with. And I recall asking you a question. Since you're in my house, you'll answer mine first. How long have you been here, and what the hell do you mean to do?" Seamus, Flynn knew, was many things, few of them honorable, but he had never outright lied to him, as far as he knew. He stared at his brother out of his one good eye and watched Seamus grimace, look away, then, finally, meet his gaze again with great reluctance.

  "You're a bastard, Flynn; do you know that?" It was an admission of defeat, delivered with a ragged sigh.

  "A bastard who's saved your hide more than once, and no doubt will again." Flynn was curt. "Let's have it, Seamus. All of it."

  "Let's get you to your room first. You're dead on your feet."

  Flynn wanted to argue with his brother's assessment but good sense overruled his pride. He made it to the room he shared with Gideon and was grateful to sink at last onto the welcoming comfort of his bed. There was treachery in that comfort, though. He sensed it even as he smelled the out-of-doors in the fibers of the freshly aired linens. It invited him, even seduced him, to give up his consciousness once and for all to the blessed oblivion of healing sleep.

  Flynn squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them wide; one of them obeyed his command. The other remained welded to his eyelid. Still, one eye was enough for him to see Seamus above him, wearing an assessing look that renewed Flynn's annoyance.

  "This is as comfortable as I'm going to get, if it was really my comfort you were worried about," Flynn told his brother dryly. "Talk."

  Seamus looked as if he'd rather plow a field without a mule. At least he was dressed for it, Flynn reflected, noting his brother's uncharacteristic couture.

  "It's Madeleine," Seamus began.

  "I figured."

  "And Antoinette."

  "Uh-huh." "They heard about the C-Bar-C, and they've done some checking."

  Flynn's face hurt, and he realized it was because his back teeth were clenched. Madeleine by herself was an inconvenience, Antoinette a nuisance. Together they were an affliction no less devastating than the Ten Plagues of Egypt, especially if they sensed a windfall. And their senses, combined, were as keen as a hungry grizzly's.

  "Go on." Flynn didn't trust Seamus enough to reveal his dismay.

  "You have anything to drink around here?" Seamus looked about. "I'm parched."

  "It'll wait. You were saying?"

  Seamus regarded him again, then shrugged with a lowering of his gaze. "They think you're being stingy with them. Madeleine has this idea that the ranch is a potential gold mine just waiting for proper management. Believe it or not, I actually think she fancies running the place herself."

  Flynn would have laughed had he not feared for his already aching ribs.

  "That is hard to believe," he declared. "I never thought Madeleine would be interested in making money any way that was legitimate. Is she interested in buying out the remainder of my share? Because if she is, I have to tell you the price has just gone up."

  "Damn it, this is serious, Flynn!" Seamus stormed, looking like a thunderhead. "She's been writing to me in Ohio, badgering me to come out here and see for myself. I couldn't come before now, because well, because Congress was in session, and I"

  He paused long enough to arouse Flynn's suspicions, which was not long at all.

  "What, Seamus?" He wondered which had caused the throbbing in his head Bill’s left hook, or Seamus's uncanny ability to get himself into trouble. Probably a combination of the two.

  "I got married in the spring, Flynn," Seamus said at last, staring at the bedpost. "A nice girl from a fine old Ohio family. A name. Money. Everything I've always wanted. Everything I deserve. Madeleine found out, and now she wants to bleed me, too."

  "Damn you, Seamus!" Flynn turned his face aside. He did not want to hear more. "If I wasn't lying here like a corpse already, I’d You could have had the decency to warn me about it, or at least to let me know when it happened! Where is this wife of yours now? In Rapid City?"

  "No, she's home in Cleveland. She has no idea I've come here. She thinks I went back to Washington to wrap up some congressional business before the next session. I'm traveling under an alias."

  "God, Seamus!" Flynn's fury overwhelmed his aches. "You lied to her? Your own wife? How many of your damned fires do I have to put out? How many times"

  "Don't get sanctimonious with me!" Seamus snarled his warning and accompanied it with a glare. "You had every bit as much to do with Madeleine as I did"

  "Not by half," Flynn cut in, equal to his brother's ire. "And I didn't have quite as much to lose as you d
id, even then. Now it appears you have even more to lose. What about me, Seamus? Haven't I given up enough? Don't I deserve a little happiness, now that I've found it in this most unlikely of places? I've spent the last dozen years cleaning up after you. Do you think I'm going to spend the rest of my life following you around with a bucket and a shovel, cleaning up your muck, while you do nothing but continue to send more my way? No, Seamus. No more. The Deauvilles will have to be satisfied with what tribute I send them, or you'll have to deal with them yourself. You and your wife, with her fine old name and fine old money."

  Seamus's look was reproachful. "We agreed," he intoned.

  "We agreed," Flynn repeated, unmoved except to anger, "twelve years ago, back when your life seemed a sight more important to both of us than my own, that your career must not be jeopardized. It's different now. My life means something, not just to me, but to . . . to other people, as well. There are things now that are very important to me. And I'm not willing to sacrifice them. I'm not going to be the scapegoat anymore. Madeleine's or yours."

  "Damn it, Flynn, Antoinette could just as easily be your brat!" Seamus's accusation was a quiet, ugly hiss. Flynn closed his eyes.

  "But she isn't, and we both know it."

  "Does your Does Miss Cannon know it, too?"

  Flynn did not bother to look at him. "If you're thinking you can blackmail me by threatening to tell Missy everything, I suggest you think again. I haven't been completely honest with her, but that's only because up until now I've been protecting your skin. Missy's best friend, as you may know, is Allyn Cameron Manners, the wife of a fellow congressman of yours. Of the two of us, I'd say you still stand to lose the most by telling poisoned tales. Get out now, Seamus. Go back to town. Back to Ohio. You've wasted your time and mine. I'm tired, and you have nothing more to say to me."

  "Yes, I have."

  The quiet danger in Seamus's voice made Flynn open his eyes again. Seamus was gazing at him intently.

  "I didn't want to have to tell you this," he said slowly, nodding as he slid his fingers into his hip pockets. "But you've left me with no choice."

  Seamus drew in a deep breath. Flynn waited.

  "I left my name in Cleveland along with my wife," Seamus said. "But I haven't exactly come to Rapid City alone.

  PART FOUR

  ALEA IACTA EST

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Gideon clambered up the steps behind Missy, toting the bucket of warm water. It wasn't very heavy, but it was clumsy, and try as he might, he couldn't avoid spilling some of it over the sides, leaving small puddles on the steps as well as making sloshing noises. Missy didn't say anything about either; normally she'd have scolded him in that soft way of hers that made him feel as if she were more hurt than angered by his carelessness.

  Truth was, she hadn't said much of anything since they'd got back from town, and nothing at all about his fight with Tobias. That made him feel sort of bad inside, somehow. Funny, but he wished she would holler or scold, as he expected. But all she'd done was wash that sore spot on his cheek he guessed Tobias was near as good a fighter as Bill Boland, although he'd never admit as much out loud, and especially not to Flynn and painted that tender place below his eye with some stinging salve from one of her brown bottles. Gideon guessed, following Missy down the second-floor hall, that Flynn was going to feel as if he'd been attacked by a whole swarm of angry bees before Missy was through with him.

  He shifted the bucket again, spilling more of the warm water, this time on the hall runner. Maybe, he mused, Missy made that stuff sting on purpose so it would teach the lesson better than mere scolding. If that was the case, Flynn was in for a serious education.

  Missy waited outside the closed door to the room he shared with Flynn. Gideon waited with her. He thought she was going to knock, but she just stood there, very still. He wondered why until he realized he could hear everything Flynn and his brother were saying just as clearly as if he were in the same room with them.

  " . . . said she was going to come here to see you whether I came with her or not. Knowing Madeleine, I figured it was better if I came along." That was Seamus's voice, although at first he sounded so much like Flynn it was hard for Gideon to be sure.

  "Ain'cha gonna knock?" He kept his voice quiet; he didn't know why.

  "Shh."

  " . . . must know I don't mean to go through with this." That was Flynn, but Gideon missed hearing who should know, and what he was supposed to go through with.

  "She says she's waited for you long enough." Seamus sounded like a headmaster Gideon remembered from his long-past days at an orphanage in Louisville: stern, scolding, mean. Gideon shuddered in spite of himself. "Maybe Missy would believe"

  "She's not a fool, Seamus." Flynn's retort was hard.

  "Too bad." Seamus sounded regretful. "It'd be easier for everyone, including her, if she was." "Go back to town." Flynn's weary reply reminded Gideon of how the man sounded after answering a spate of his questions on a fishing outing. "Tell Madeleine to be patient for a day or two. Until she hears from me. I can't have her coming out here now. I have to think. Missy will need to be told . . . something. This couldn't have happened at a worse time."

  "Is there ever a good time for Madeleine Deauville?" Seamus chuckled as if he'd made a joke that didn't taste quite right in his mouth. "I think you've just given me an idea of how to make everybody happy. Well, nearly everybody. Leave it to me, Flynn. I've been letting you manage this mess from the beginning; maybe it's time I took a turn at it."

  Footsteps approached on the other side of the door.

  "Seamus, if you"

  "For God's sake, don't worry, Flynn!" Gideon didn't know about Flynn, but something in Seamus's voice, something tight and not quite natural, inspired a worried chill in his own breast. "I'm Harvard educated. I'm not an idiot."

  "No, you're not an idiot," Flynn affirmed, as if he meant to imply that Seamus might be something much worse. "But don't think you can"

  "Get some rest, Flynn." Seamus sounded firm, like Missy when she'd tell him he needed a bath. "You need it. I'm going back to town; I'll call on you tomorrow."

  Gideon remembered a time in Louisville a couple of years back when he'd watched a fire wagon speed down the street before him toward a smoking building, its bells clanging and its horses with wild looks in their eyes. People had fled before it in terror, for it was obvious those horses would have stopped for nothing. He'd felt rooted by the sight, himself. He remembered wondering if he'd have been able to get out of its way, had he been standing in the middle of the street. He looked up at Missy. She glanced at him as if he'd willed her to, as if she'd just remembered he was there. She was pale as chalk dust. Looking at her, Gideon felt funny inside, as if he were a secret that got told by mistake. He looked at the water in his bucket and wondered if it was still warm.

  The door opened. Gideon didn't know whether Missy or Seamus had opened it, but he didn't guess it much mattered. He couldn't look at either of them. Something was going wrong, very wrong, and he felt powerless to make it right.

  ''Excuse me, Mr. Muldaur, but I must ask you to leave now, unless you know something about nursing."

  How the hell could Missy sound so calm, facing that snake in the grass? Gideon wondered, amazed.

  Some time passed before Seamus answered; Gideon didn't know how much, except it seemed like a lot. Like when Missy asked him if he'd been smoking out behind the barn again and he didn't want to say yes and knew he couldn't say no. Like the real words got lost somewhere between them.

  "No, I confess to knowing little about tending to the wounded," Flynn's brother answered at last, sounding like a slick snake-oil salesman. "I'll leave him to you. If you would be so kind as to loan me a horse to get back to town, I promise to return it tomorrow when I pay a call to see how the, uh, patient is doing."

  Gideon shivered, though not from any chill that he could detect in the stuffy room. Seamus Muldaur was sounding less and less like his brother. Sort of like the
difference between an empty barrel and a full one.

  "Gideon, please put the bucket down beside the bed. Then go downstairs with Mr. Muldaur"

  "Seamus."

  "Seamus” Missy drew the name out as if it was something nasty she'd found in the butter crock” and get Mi to saddle him a mount to take him back to town."

  She hadn't said "one of my best mares," Gideon noted with some satisfaction. He turned to do her bidding.

  "Hey, Gid?" Flynn's voice, the full barrel, stopped him. Gideon faced the man, although it pained him to see Flynn so beat up, and to know that Bill Boland had done it to him.

  Flynn gave him a swollen, cut-lip grin. "See why it's no good to pick a fight with somebody?"

  Gideon managed a grin in return, even though part of him felt like bawling like a baby.