Damned and Desirable (Eternally Yours Book 2)

by Tara West

  Damned and Desirable

  Copyright © 2014 by Tara West

  Published by Shifting Sands Publishing

  First edition, published October 2014

  All rights reserved.

  This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited.

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.

  Edited by Theo Fenraven

  Proofread by Jenx Byron

  Formatted by Author's HQ

  Cover Art by Tamra Westberry

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Books by Tara West

  About Tara West

  Dedications

  To Jodi. You don’t know what your friendship means to me. If we ever find ourselves in the fiery pit of doom, you know I’ve got your back, and I know I can count on you, too. But you’re such an awesome person, you’ll make it to at least level eleven in Purgatory. In that case, I will need to borrow some credits. ;)

  Special thanks to C.D., Kelly, Raven, Shéa, Sheri and Tammy for beta reading my manuscript. Your input was very much appreciated.

  To my street team and fans, thanks for your faith in my books and for all of your support. You are the reason I keep writing.

  Theo Fenraven, I don’t know what I’d do without your edits. Thank you times infinity!

  Jenx, thanks so much for finding my boo boos.

  “If I owned Texas and all Hell, I would rent out Texas and live in Hell.” ~ General Sheridan

  Galveston Island, Texas

  September 7, 1900

  Aedan O’Connor

  “O’Connor. I need a word.”

  I looked up to see Mr. Ball waving me to his clapboard office at the edge of the dock. I pocketed my cap and leather gloves, and ran a hand through my hair, made damp from perspiration, as I weaved my way through the cotton bales.

  Though a favorable breeze blew from the east, the midday sun was still blistering, bearing down on me and my men like a coal furnace while we raced to secure the cotton. The sky was dotted with wispy clouds, but when I squinted, I thought I saw darker hues in the distance. There was talk of a possible storm tomorrow, a glancing glow from the powerful hurricane the weather bureau predicted would hit the northern part of Texas and all along Louisiana—far enough away from my island town, thank the Lord. I’d been dealing with enough foul weather as the tempest that brewed inside my home spun out of control with each demand from Katherine, my new bride. Nothing I did satisfied her, and I feared nothing ever would.

  I ducked my head as I stepped beneath the low doorway. I had to crook my neck to keep my scalp from scraping the ceiling. I was taller than most men, which made my daily encounters in Mr. Ball’s office more than awkward.

  Mr. Ball was a stout, middle-aged man with hair that had prematurely receded at least ten years prior, leaving him with nothing but a tuft of white at the top of his head. The dock workers had secretly named him Mr. Cotton Ball. Though I had laughed at the moniker a few times, nothing else was funny about my boss. He was always a man of business. He never accepted excuses when workers were late or slovenly, and I respected him for it.

  Mr. Ball sat on the edge of his desk and chewed on an unlit cigar. “So? How goes it, O’Connor?”

  “We’ve finished securing the bales,” I said. “Everything should sit tight until the weather clears.”

  A smile lit up the man’s face, crinkling the ruddy skin around his eyes. “You work fast.” He tapped his cigar toward the open window. “I hear the storm may pass.”

  I nodded, feeling my chest swell with pride. Mr. Ball wasn’t one to give praise lightly. “It may, but I figured it’s best to err on the side of caution.”

  “I’m sending your crew home early, but don’t worry, you’ll get your full day’s wages for the effort you’ve put forth today.” He walked around his desk and pulled a stack of bills out of the drawer, handing four of them to me.

  I rubbed the pad of my thumb over the money. Two dollars a day was my wage. I started to say something when Mr. Ball held up a silencing palm.

  “I wish my other men were worth as much as you. I mean to offer you the foreman position.” Mr. Ball pocketed his cigar before holding out a hand. “Will you take it?”

  I stepped back, refusing to shake. Ball had given Callum, my twin brother, the foreman position just last spring, and though Callum had seemed distracted this past week, he’d still seen to it the crews had kept the dock running smoothly. I suspected my brother’s distraction had something to do with Miss Thorne, Callum’s pretty, redheaded neighbor from Lucas Terrace who had, much to Callum’s dismay, already pledged her heart to another.

  “But what of my brother?” I asked. I refused to steal my twin’s position simply because he’d been struck down by love.

  Ball’s pale eyes darkened as his brows drew together. “What of him?”

  Though I was loathe to part with the money, I slapped the two extra bills on the desk. I only prayed Katherine wouldn’t hear I’d refused my boss’s offer. “I can’t take my brother’s job.”

  Mr. Ball heaved a sigh as he ran stubby fingers through his tuft of hair. “Aedan O’ Connor, you’re a good man, so I’m going to give it to you straight. Your brother’s a drunk. I can’t have him running my dock.”

  I flushed with anger. “I don’t know where you heard that, sir, but my brother’s not a drunk. He’s an honest man, just as our mama raised us.”

  Pity flashed in the older man’s eyes. I recognized that look. It was the same one my family and friends had given me when my first love, Marie, had succumbed to yellow fever. “Your brother is down at Ritter’s Saloon right now. Go see for yourself if you don’t believe me.”

  A man with ink-stained hands rushed past me and up the nearby stairwell, mumbling something about the Boxer Rebellion. Ritter’s Restaurant and Saloon was a high-end establishment located below the Galveston News office. I pocketed my cap and pushed my way past businessmen in crisp suits, ignoring their sharp stares as I brushed wisps of cotton off my trousers. I wondered why my brother had chosen this saloon when there were dozens of others more amenable to laborers.

  I found my twin in a darkened corner, sitting by himself at a small bistro table, nursing what appeared to be an entire bottle of whiskey. A dark ache settled in my chest when Callum looked up from his drink. Though our gazes locked for a mere heartbeat, in that moment I read an eternity of sorrows in his haunted expression. I feared whatever had brought on Callum’s melancholy was far worse than the slight of a pretty girl, and it would require more than a bottle of whiskey to ease his depression.

  I pulled up a chair and sat across from him, bending my head to search his eyes. The man before me was a shell of the Callum I’d known just a week ago, reminding me very much of myself four years past after Marie had succumbed to her sickness. His normally
slicked-back hair was an unruly dark mop. Heavy circles framed his blue eyes, dulling their vibrant color and casting a shadow over his pale features. I felt like ten shades of selfish for not noticing my brother’s ailment before. I reached for his hand, shocked and a little hurt when he jerked back.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  “Drinking whiskey,” he grumbled, staring down at the table. “What does it look like?”

  Callum had never been one to beat around the bush, so I knew he would appreciate if I got straight to the point. “Ball wants to fire you as foreman.”

  He didn’t even flinch. “I don’t want the damn job, so long as you can have it.” Refusing to meet my gaze, he took a long swig from the bottle.

  “I will not take your job. Come home with me. I’ll brew a pot of coffee. Katherine is making a meat pie tonight. Let us sober you up.” Again, I reached for my brother’s hand, and again he pulled away.

  “I don’t want to be sober.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his shirtsleeve.

  A knot of sorrow tightened in my chest. Up until my marriage to Katherine, my twin and I had been inseparable. Our whole lives we’d done everything together, from burying our parents a few months shy of our sixteenth birthday, to taking odd jobs at farms, and finally settling in Galveston. Where my brother had gone, I had gone, and when one of us suffered, so did the other. Just three years prior, Callum had felt so keenly the loss of my young fiancé, he had mourned her alongside me, refusing the company of eager young ladies while I grieved.

  Now that Callum’s heart ached, I couldn’t help but feel a rising tide of worry. He had never shut me out before, and I prayed he wouldn’t start now. After all we’d suffered through together, I did not think I could go on if I lost him to this melancholy. “Callum, what troubles you? You can talk to me.”

  Much to my dismay, he only stared down the barrel of his bottle.

  “Come home and have supper with us and then sit on the porch a spell. Don’t waste your evening here when you could be with family.” I gestured to the unsmiling faces at the other end of the tavern. “I promise you’ll be right as rain. Come on, brother.” I reached forward, grabbing him by the shoulder.

  Callum shot to his feet, stumbling back as if my touch had scalded him. “I am not your brother!”

  A wave of murmurs rose from the other patrons in the saloon, but I paid them no heed. I’d cared little for their good opinions before, and I cared even less now. My mind raced as I struggled to recall if I’d said or done anything that would have upset my brother.

  Pushing back the sting of Callum’s rejection, I advanced upon him, dropping my voice to a low whisper. “What are you saying?”

  He looked down, staring at the scuffs on his weatherworn boots. “Brothers do not betray each other.”

  I shook my head to clear my thoughts. Was my brother speaking of the foreman position?

  “Callum,” I said with a plea in my voice as I held out my hands. “I refused the job.”

  When he lifted his gaze to mine, my heart stopped at the desolation in his watery eyes. I had seen it before, reflecting back at me in the looking glass many times after the loss of our parents and the woman I’d loved.

  Callum’s voice shook as he spoke. “I do not deserve to call you brother. I do not deserve to live.” He covered his face with his hands, sobbing.

  Rarely had I seen my brother cry, and never with such ferocity. My heart sank to my gut. Whatever had brought on his melancholy was dire indeed.

  My limbs went numb and my insides churned with apprehension as I sank back into my seat and gaped up at him. What had he done to warrant such self-loathing?

  “Do not say such things,” I said on a breathy whisper, though some part of me feared his admission might ring true.

  He swiped the bottle off the table, tipped back his head, and took several long gulps, as if he was quenching his thirst with a canteen of water after a long day at the docks.

  I stood, preparing to snatch the drink from him when he slammed the bottle on the table with a loud clank.

  He let out a long belch, then stumbled back, leaning against the wall for support. Thunderclouds darkened his eyes as he fixed me with a pointed stare. “I laid with your wife.”

  I gaped at him, my mouth drying up faster than Texas soil during a summer drought. “W-What?”

  Callum’s features hardened to stone. “I called on you Sunday, but Katherine said you were volunteering for the church.” He paused, his gaze wavering slightly, then he spit out the words as if he’d swallowed a mouthful of venom. “She seduced me, and I laid with her.” He slumped down the wall, the last of his vitality drained with his confession.

  A low grumble sounded from somewhere deep within me. I stormed up to my brother, grasping him by the collar and jerking him upright. “You lie.”

  “Open your eyes!” Callum screamed in my face, the sting of his words a thousand times more devastating than the slap of his stale breath. “Do you know how many men have tossed up her skirts? She’s a fucking whore! And she made me betray my brother!”

  I knocked him out cold in one bone-jarring crunch, shaking off the pain that lanced my fingers as he slid down the wall to the floor without another sound. My throbbing knuckles were already swelling. I’d always teased my brother that he was a hardheaded lout. Now I knew it to be true.

  Ignoring the rustling of feet and the growing murmurs behind me, I pulled my cap out of my pocket, shoving it on my head before storming out the door. I cared not for my brother’s broken bones or the pain in my hand. Heck, I cared even less for my shattered marriage. I was starting to see my life was nothing more than a pile of rubble, destroyed by the maelstrom of lust, greed, and death, and unless the vortex stopped spinning, I’d soon find myself buried beneath the destruction, too.

  I barely remembered my long walk home. Any other man would have thought of little else save confronting his wife for her treachery and seeking vengeance against every man who’d touched her. Any other man except me. All I thought about was the gentle lilt of Marie’s voice, sweet smile, and bright green eyes.

  Dearest Marie, God was so cruel to take you from me.

  Had my true love lived, we would have made a happy home and peaceful life together. Marie would never have seduced my brother. She would have been by my side last Sunday, volunteering at the church, for it was she who’d put the fear of God in my soul. It was her lilting voice in the Sunday choir that had first led me to the church’s door. Sadly, her gentle, caring nature had resulted in her demise. Just a few short weeks after bringing food and clothing to the sick and needy, she’d succumbed to yellow fever. It was on Marie’s deathbed I had made her two promises: I’d continue volunteering for the church, and I’d look after her younger sister.

  The charity work had been easy. Though I still carried a seed of resentment toward God deep in my soul, I’d managed to lock that seed away as I buried myself in helping those less fortunate. Looking after Marie’s younger sister had proven to be a far more difficult task. I had hoped that by marrying Katherine, I could tame her wild streak. If anything, she only rebelled more, all the while demanding I purchase her fine clothes and fancy teas. Though I had started to lose hope Katherine would become more like her sister, I was completely blindsided by Callum’s confession. My wife was more than stubborn, more than wild. She was a whore. She had broken her sacred marriage vows. How could I keep my promise to Marie now?

  The tempest of emotions swirling in my mind came to a thunderous halt when I saw a man standing on my modest front porch. My wife leaned inside the doorway, twirling a lock of golden hair around her finger and flashing a coy smile as the man bowed and tipped his bowler hat. He was thanking her for her services, no doubt. How could I have been so blind?

  Katherine supposedly taught piano lessons during the day, but I knew this man dressed in a tailored black suit had come for lessons of another sort. I raced across the street, dodging carts and ignoring irate drivers, befo
re I reached our narrow two-story home. I took the porch steps two at a time, hearing my wife’s gasp as her visitor spun around.

  I recognized the lean, red-faced man with the bushy moustache as Dr. Straw, the local snake oil salesman who’d pawned himself off as a man of medical science. Dr. Straw’s slender hands were always perfectly smooth, as if he’d never lifted a bag of grain or a hammer in his life. I never trusted a man who didn’t have the strength or skill to put in an honest day’s labor, and my instincts had proved right with Dr. Straw. His hat sat askew his nearly balding head, and his tie was crooked. Katherine must have earned herself a pair of silk stockings this afternoon.

  “Aedan,” she said with exasperated breath as she clutched a hand to her throat. “Dr. Straw called to pay for his daughter’s piano lessons.”

  I narrowed my eyes as I bore down on him with a scowl. “I didn’t know you had a daughter, Dr. Straw.”

  Dr. Straw tugged at his necktie, a bead of sweat dripping down the side of his face. “Actually, she is my niece.” He averted his gaze, looking just beyond my shoulder. “Looks like a break in the weather. All may turn out well yet.”

  I stepped closer to him, so close I could smell Katherine’s cloying perfume on his starched collar. “Don’t be so sure of that.”

  The doctor adjusted his tie again and cleared his throat before attempting to step past me. “Good day to you.”

  I refused to move.

  “Aedan,” my wife said in that condescending tone I’d come to loathe. “Let the man pass.”

  I backed up and then stepped aside for Dr. Straw. Leaning against the porch post, I stuck out my boot, tripping the doctor as he went by, sending him sprawling down the stairs. I laughed when he landed face-first in the road.