Trilby

by Diana Palmer

  His breath caught at the way she was looking at him. Propriety, restraint, and discretion all fled his grasp.

  “My God, Lisa, when you look at me like that…” he said under his breath, and he reached for her.

  He kissed her with passion and need and quiet desperation. She kissed him back, giving way to the need that had tormented her since they had been intimate. She gloried in the hard crush of his arms and the feel of his hard, rough mouth on her own. She throbbed and burned from his kiss, needing to feel his skin next to hers. It was a kind of madness, she thought dizzily, but she didn’t care. All she cared about was the taste of Todd Powell’s mouth and getting as much of it as she could before she had to let him go.

  When he lifted his head, he was flushed and a little unsteady on his feet. “Here,” he said huskily, holding her gently until she gained her balance. “You’re as rocky as I am.”

  She couldn’t smile. Her eyes adored him. Her mouth felt swollen and still hungry. “I’m dizzy!” she whispered in soft delight.

  “And I,” he replied. “It is no good my telling myself all the reasons against it. No good whatsoever. I want you too badly.”

  She saw things in his eyes that he would probably never say. She saw desperate hunger and loneliness, respect and need. And behind it all, love that would sacrifice his own happiness in her best interests.

  “I want you, too,” she said honestly. “I love you so much, Todd. With all my heart!”

  His eyes flashed. He seemed to have trouble breathing, and his face tautened like a drawn cord. “I want you for my wife. But I am…much older than you. I am a widower, and in the past I have been known to drink to excess.”

  “None of that matters.”

  He exhaled heavily. He took one of her small hands in his and grasped it warmly, tightly. “I will put away the bottle forever. I will do anything you ever ask of me.”

  She smiled at him very tenderly. “I know.”

  He straightened. “I am not a wealthy man, and I imagine that I shall not achieve any more in the way of rank.”

  “That does not matter, either.”

  He lifted her palm to his mouth and kissed it with shattering hunger. “I love you,” he said unsteadily, forcing the words out. “More than my life. More than honor itself!”

  She cradled his cheek against her hand, unbearably touched by his confession. She hadn’t expected this up-swell of emotion in him, despite his passion, and the emotion she read in his normally composed face made her feel humble.

  “When will you marry me?” he asked.

  “Whenever you like. I should think that May is a particularly fine month for a wedding,” she added.

  “May,” he agreed. He drew back reluctantly and smiled jerkily. “May it is, then.”

  “You won’t take risks, Todd?” she asked worriedly.

  “No,” he murmured dryly. His eyes caressed her face one more time. He turned and went down the steps with the sudden agility of a much younger man. He laughed as he got into the car and waved as he drove off. She watched until the column was nothing more than a puff of smoke in the distance.

  THORN RACED THROUGH Douglas looking for Jack Lang. When he finally found his father-in-law, Jack was pleading with an official for a pass to get into Agua Prieta through the Federal troops.

  “I can’t give you that,” the nervous young officer in charge groaned. “Mr. Lang, you ask the impossible! No pass I wrote would satisfy the insurrectos. They have deployed along the railroad track at the embankment all the way to the U.S. customhouse. They’ll fire at anything that moves, in their present mood. Several Americans who were on the Nacozari train are being held; we don’t know where. But the Federales have surrendered, and once the city is secure in the hands of the revolutionaries, I can almost assure you that the hostages will be released. Your daughter is probably among them and probably quite safe.”

  “Come on, Jack,” Thorn said curtly. He didn’t speak to the officer at all, pulling the older man along with him without a word until they reached the street. “That isn’t the way.”

  He headed for the Mexican part of town, through the turmoil of machines and troops and onlookers, with Jack at his side.

  “What are you going to do?” Jack asked.

  “Get help. This is the only way to get through to Agua Prieta now. We’ll never be able to walk across the border with those U.S. troops there.”

  “I know,” Jack said grimly. “They’ve already shot at one man to keep him from going over. What if the rebels are holding her for ransom?” Jack groaned. “I haven’t any cash with me!”

  Thorn’s hands fell to his sidearm. Grim-visaged, he didn’t break stride. “I’ll pay them off in lead.”

  “I know how you feel, man, but you mustn’t endanger her!” the other man pleaded.

  “I won’t,” Thorn promised. “But I’ll get her out. I swear I will—no matter what it takes!”

  There was silence as they made their way through the crowd. “She was leaving you, wasn’t she?” Jack asked. “Over that damned Bates.”

  “Yes.” Thorn’s voice was hoarse, bitter. “And she can still go. But I’ll have to get her out of Mexico first.”

  “I’m certain she doesn’t love the man.”

  “And I’m certain that she does. It doesn’t matter. The thing is to save her life,” Thorn said heavily. “Pray God we aren’t too late!”

  WHILE THORN AND JACK were trying to think of a way to get across the border, past the hair triggers of the rebel sentries, a rested and refreshed Trilby was learning how to treat gunshot wounds. She’d wrapped a sheet around her as a makeshift apron and she was watching the Mexican physician stitch a wound by kerosene lantern. She was duplicating his technique on yet another wounded man, following the instructions by proxy. She understood no Spanish, so Naki was translating for the small, friendly physician.

  “This is ridiculous!” Naki protested. “You’re not in any condition to do this sort of thing.”

  “Do be quiet,” she murmured, nodding as the doctor demonstrated his tying-off technique and watched her repeat it on her very drunk and singing patient. “I think I’m doing very well.”

  “Will you be reasonable? You’re jeopardizing your health!”

  “You sound just like my husband,” Trilby said, ignoring him. “I’m all right. I’ve had some water and a piece of bread and cheese and I feel much better. Naki, I actually think I’m getting quite good at this!” she said enthusiastically as she began to stitch another wound with the doctor’s supervision.

  “Thorn will kill me,” Naki muttered.

  “I’m none of Thorn’s business,” she returned. “I’m leaving him. Will you be quiet? This is very tricky. Do ask the doctor if I should make two stitches here….”

  Naki threw up his hands.

  IT WAS MADDENING to have to wait, but Thorn and Jack had to send for Jorge’s brother and it took some time to find him. Going over the border in the dark without assistance was suicide, and no help at all to Trilby. With the help of Jorge’s brother and one of his cousins, Thorn and Jack Lang were able to don Mexican garb and slip across the border, just out of town, with a small group of rebels the next morning at daylight.

  It had been hell, worrying through the night, hard on both men, especially on Thorn. The only thing that made it bearable was learning that Jorge had improved and seemed to be rallying. The Americans who had been captured on the train had long since been released, and Thorn had rushed out to see if Trilby was among them. As he’d feared, she wasn’t. Their only recourse then had been to wait for dawn.

  “We don’t even know where to look for her,” Jack protested as they climbed up the bank into the outskirts of Agua Prieta.

  “Of course we do,” Thorn said impatiently. “She’ll still be on that damned train. There’s no way they could have moved her or the others in all this gunfire.”

  “Well, you’re right,” Jack said, relieved. “Oh, dear God, I hope they haven’t harmed her.�
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  “If they have, they won’t live to regret it,” the Arizonan said grimly.

  The very tone of his voice was menacing. Jack hoped the other man would restrain that violence until they could retrieve Trilby from her captors. Afterward, he thought angrily, he’d probably be capable of getting off a few rounds himself.

  Music could be heard along with sporadic gunfire as they made their way into the city. Agua Prieta was no tiny border town. It was fully garrisoned and the government troops had been formidable. But almost at once it became apparent that the Maderistas had control of the city.

  A relief column was said to be on the way from Fort Huachuca, with another two troops due to arrive within a day or so. But they could do little more than keep the border secure. Several sympathizers had tried to cross the border, and one of them had been winged in the shoulder by a soldier, which had the effect of stemming the enthusiasm of his fellows for the fight. They retreated. No Americans were allowed into Agua Prieta. That was why Thorn and Jack had been forced to resort to chicanery in Trilby’s interests.

  The train was motionless on its tracks. Some of the windows were lit. Thorn stared at it with narrowed eyes. Then, with a small laugh, he pulled out his pistol and checked it, spinning the cylinder before he reholstered it.

  “Are you game, Jack?” he asked.

  “Game as I’ll ever be,” came the quiet reply.

  Thorn walked out into the light. He was challenged immediately by two men, but he replied to their challenge with the day’s password. The guns were lowered. Jack gave a sigh of relief, because the men had been very nervous and quick on the trigger.

  “Don’t quit on me now,” Thorn said, glancing at his companion. “They think we’re sympathizers. Did you think I’d dare come across without knowing the password?”

  “I was afraid we were goners. Is she in there?”

  “They said she’s with the doctor,” Thorn replied worriedly. “Come on.”

  He gained the entrance to the train and stopped suddenly in the doorway with Jack at his elbow. There was an audible gasp.

  Trilby was hovering over a badly wounded man with needle and thread while a small man directed her movements with the needle in what looked to be a killing wound. The patient was, however, very cheerful and obviously intoxicated, singing as they sewed him up.

  “Trilby!” Thorn exclaimed.

  She heard his deep voice and looked up. A shock of warmth and color animated her face until she remembered vividly the night he’d left her. She glared at him.

  “Hello, Thorn. Hello, Father.” She greeted them stiffly. “Fancy meeting you here.”

  “What are you doing?” Thorn demanded, aghast.

  “I’m acting as assistant to this poor, harassed doctor. He can’t sew up everyone at once, you know.” She turned to Naki, who looked very self-conscious as he met Thorn’s furious scowl. “Tell the doctor I must speak with my father. I’ll only be a minute.” She handed Naki the needle and suture and stripped off her bloody apron as she approached the men.

  “Trilby, girl, are you all right?” Jack asked worriedly, and went forward to embrace her enthusiastically. “Oh, thank God, thank God! When I heard they’d taken hostages, I was so afraid. Your mother is beside herself, and so is Teddy.”

  “I’m fine, really, Father,” she assured him. She was pale and worn, her hair in wisps around her harried face, but she was managing quite well. She wouldn’t look at Thorn. It was much too embarrassing to meet his eyes and remember how they’d parted.

  “I have to talk to you,” Thorn said formally. He took her arm before she could protest and escorted her out onto the platform at the rear of the car, aware of Mexicans patrolling around the perimeter. No one paid them much attention, however, so it was as much privacy as they were likely to get.

  “Yes? What do you want? I’m quite busy,” she said haughtily, avoiding his eyes.

  “Trilby, for God’s sake, you’re a prisoner in an enemy camp, not a doctor making a house call!”

  “I am not a hostage. I am giving aid and assistance where it is needed. When they release me, and they’ve promised that I can go whenever I like, I am going back to Louisiana. That is what you want, is it not?”

  Thorn couldn’t manage to speak at all. He made a rough sound under his breath and caught the iron railing in his lean hands. It was cold and sturdy against his skin. In the distance, a guitar was playing and a fire was burning over which men were cooking beans and coffee. He heard voices all around them.

  “I am deeply sorry for what I did that last night we were together,” he said formally. “I had no right.”

  “That is true.”

  He straightened. “At least they have not harmed you.”

  “It would not occur to them. They are gentlemen,” she added, stressing the word.

  His high cheekbones flushed. He turned and looked directly down into her eyes. “And I’m not. I’m a savage,” he said quietly. “I even proved it to you, didn’t I, Trilby?” he added, with cold self-contempt. “If you’re looking for genteel company, you won’t ever find it with me. Bates is more your sort. Maybe he was right in the first place. Maybe you do belong with him.”

  She had no need to feel guilty, but she did. He looked torn apart.

  She frowned slightly. She hadn’t considered the motivation for his violent behavior all that much. She’d thought he might be jealous that another man wanted her. But this went beyond jealousy. There was more emotion in that lean face than she’d seen on it since they married. He was tired and there were deep lines in his lean cheeks. His eyes were bloodshot. In them was wounded resignation, and something more. Something deeper, much deeper, than she’d realized. He’d come all this way, risked being killed, to get to her. He was risking his life even now, gladly, just to be with her. It put things into perspective vividly, and at once, as she considered his motives.

  She moved close to him and only then saw how her proximity reacted on him. He tensed all over. His face muscles drew up. His mouth compressed, as if he had to exercise a great deal of control not to show how she affected him.

  “What’s wrong, Thorn?” she asked quietly. “Surely I don’t disturb you?”

  She took a step closer, and he actually moved away, his face threatening.

  “It’s Bates you want, or have you forgotten?” he asked coldly. “I’m please to see that you’re undamaged. I’ll talk to López and get you out of here.”

  “Thorn,” she called as he started back into the train.

  He turned with one of those lightning moves that had once intimidated her. “Well?” he asked testily.

  “You never once asked how I felt about Richard,” she said, with dignity. “Or if I wanted to go to him. You didn’t ask if I wanted a divorce.”

  “How could you not want one, for God’s sake, after what I did to you?” he asked harshly.

  The pain in his dark eyes was unbearable. She moved close again, looking up at him intently. “You made love to me,” she said softly. “You were very passionate, but you were not cruel.” She dropped her gaze to his chest. “You have never been cruel to me…in that way.”

  “I left bruises on you,” he said, his voice throbbing with emotion. “I didn’t have the courage to face you that next morning, don’t you see? I couldn’t bear to face you, so I ran!”

  She gasped. The expression on his normally taciturn face made her knees week. Why had she never seen it before? That wasn’t the look of a jealous or vindictive man. It was the look of a man who loved so intensely that it was killing him to lose her.

  “Why…you love me!” she whispered, with sudden, stark realization.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  THORN FLINCHED AT the accusation. He turned away, his eyes on the Mexicans grouped around the small cooking fire nearby, unseeing as he fought for control. He hadn’t meant her to know. He didn’t want to be vulnerable.

  But he was, and now she knew it. She went to him in a daze. Her hands went out and c
aught his long, muscular arm. She drew it to her breasts and held it there, coaxing his eyes down to her rapt face.

  “Is it so difficult to admit?” she asked.

  His face went even harder, but his eyes lingered helplessly on her soft features. “You don’t want me,” he accused harshly. “You never did! I’m not cultured and soft like that Eastern fellow you’re in love with.”

  “No, you aren’t soft,” she agreed, smiling up at his averted face gently, radiantly. “You’re like your desert, Thorn, rock-hard and sometimes very harsh. But you’re twice the man Richard ever was.”

  He’d averted his eyes, but that last remark brought them back. His face softened a little, and he looked as if he was hanging on every word.

  “I couldn’t admit it, but I really knew the day Richard kissed me, when Sissy and I were out looking for relics,” she said matter-of-factly. “Because I felt nothing. Nothing at all. He held me and all I could think of was the way it felt to be in your arms.”

  His thin lips parted. He seemed to barely be breathing.

  “How could you not know?” she asked huskily, staring up at him raptly. “I gave myself away a dozen times. Especially in intimacy, when I adored you so much that I had to have the lights on, so that I could see how much you wanted me.”

  His cheekbones went ruddy with color. “Did you?”

  “Oh, yes,” she whispered. “Even that last time,” she added, blushing as her eyes fell to his chest. “Especially that last time, when you wanted me so desperately that you could hold back nothing. I thought that I would die, the pleasure was so terrible.”

  He felt shaky. His hand touched her cheek hesitantly, tracing its sweet curve. “I never meant to hurt you,” he whispered unsteadily. “I was jealous and desperately afraid of losing you. I lost control.”

  “Yes.” She moved close to him and impulsively slid her arms around him. She pressed herself to his powerful body and felt him shiver.

  “Don’t,” he said, trying to move her away.

  “It’s all right,” she whispered. “I’m trembling, too. Can’t you feel it?”