Then it came to her: the beach. He had said it would be safe there.
She forced herself to go slowly down the crumbling stairs, despite the urging of her heart to hurry, lest it be a dream that would end any second.
At last, she reached the bottom safely and stepped into the sand.
Whirling around and around in the whipping wind and mist from the crashing waves in the distance, she dared call out, "Cord, are you here?"
He came from out of the darkness to silence her with his lips, and they clung together for long poignant moments that left both of them shaken.
"You're alive," she whispered in awe when she could at last speak. "I can't believe it." She ran her fingers over his face, his neck, Ids shoulders, wanting to be sure he was real.
Anxiously, he told her how he had feared she would leave before he could let her know he had survived.
"But how did you?" she asked, laughing and crying all at once.
"I managed to lunge out far enough that I missed the rocks and hit the deep water. I stayed offshore while they searched. God, Jaime." He drew a deep breath of incredulity as he gazed down at her moon-bathed face. "I wasn't sure you'd understand the signal with the orchids. I left the first one where I jumped off, hoping you'd go back there, but when you didn't come last night, I had to take a chance and go in through the window and leave another on your pillow."
"That's when I realized it had to be you." She threw herself against him once more, wanting to touch and feel and savor the miracle of it all.
"Jaime, there's something I have to tell you."
She drew back, hearing the tension in his voice. Then, through a sudden fog of hope wrapped in fear, his words penetrated.
"I found your father. He's alive. I haven't spoken to him, but it could only be him,"
She would have fallen had he not been holding her so tightly. He went on to explain how he had spent the last few days confirming his suspicions. "I had a feeling all along he didn't just disappear. Lavelle had nothing to gain by his death and everything to lose, and I figured he'd been holding him captive somewhere, determined sooner or later he'd give him the location of his mine.
"What puzzled me, however," he continued, "was why he didn't use you to make your father talk as soon as he had you in his clutches. Then the pieces started to fit together. Blake falling for you complicated things. Lavelle couldn't whisk you away without Blake getting suspicious, and he didn't want to risk that. It was easier to try and get the map away from you. But, the most important thing is, I don't think he ever knew where your father was."
Jaime blinked, confused. "I'm not following you."
"It was Morena, don't you see? She knew Lavelle was desperate for that mine, because he firmly believed it had a mother lode. The man I talked to in San Francisco told me Lavelle had got an assayer's report on the ore your father put up as proof of the worth of his mine, and the assayer assured Lavelle it came from the area where it was supposed to.
"Anyway"—he rushed on—"as long as Morena had your father, she had control over Lavelle, but all that changed when you came along. I believe that's why she murdered him. He probably got fed up and told her to go to hell, because he had you and didn't need her or your father anymore. So her plan now, of course, with Lavelle dead, is to get to you and use you the way she planned all along."
"But where is my father?" She cried anxiously. "Take me to him, please."
He hated to tell her it was not possible right then. "He's being held in a cave about a mile north of here. Some of Morena's Yahi friends watch over it. That's how I pinpointed where he was; I saw them taking food in. But we can't risk getting him out unless their attention is diverted, which I'll do tomorrow night. We've got to wait till then. But tell me," he asked anxiously. "Have you seen Morena?"
"Not since the night of the murder. Blake says she knows better than to come back."
"But she will. She's just been waiting till after the funeral, when there won't be so many people around. Now here's what I want you to do. Go back to the house, but don't sleep in your room."
"But Blake had the opening to the passage sealed. She can't get in if I bolt the door from the inside."
"It doesn't matter. I won't feel safe with you there. Sleep somewhere else, so she won't know where to find you."
"I could go to Blake's mother's room."
"Fine. And tomorrow night, be ready to leave." He outlined his plan to build an altar and light a fire to make the Yahi think their dreaded god, Cooksuy, was miraculously appearing without being called. "They're superstitious, and they'll come running and forget all about the cave. After all this time, they aren't very diligent about keeping an eye on it anyway, or I never would have been able to get as close as I did. Still, I spotted two of them sleeping near the entrance, so I've got to lure them away, even it means waking all of them up, but they'll head to the beach to see what's going on."
He told her exactly how to find the cave and said she should go there at twelve. As soon as he made sure the Indians were concentrating on the fire, he would meet her up there.
Worried, she asked, "What if somebody sees us? We'll be trapped between them and Blake's men."
He took yet another orchid from inside his shirt and, though it was mashed, tucked it in her golden hair and smiled. "I've already taken care of that, Sunshine. You can swim, can't you?"
She swallowed and nodded nervously, wondering what he had in mind.
"I know of a calm little cove not too far away. There's a path leading to it opposite from where the Indians will gather. I'll steal one of their boats and hide it. We'll make our way there to escape and head for San Francisco and the law so we can make sure Morena pays for what she's done."
He pulled her close for one last kiss.
"Go now. I've got to go back in hiding in case she's sneaking around. It would ruin everything if she finds out I'm alive, and you need to make yourself safe for the night."
He started to melt back into the shadows, but Jaime did not—could not—move. She called to him, and he turned. "Cord, I—" She faltered, drew a sharp breath, and then spoke from her heart. "I thank God you're alive."
He blew her a kiss and hurried away, afraid if he stayed one more second he would never be able to leave her.
Chapter 25
Jaime could not bear to lie in the bed where Emily Lavelle had killed herself. Instead, she settled on the sofa in her room but was far too excited to sleep. Dear Lord, she was still dizzy to think how this night she had learned Cord was not only miraculously alive but had also managed to discover her father's whereabouts.
Cord had held her and kissed her, and it was no dream or fantasy brought about by either sorrow or misty moonlight. It had been real. He had been real.
And tomorrow night she would see her father for the first time in ten years. It grieved her to think how he had suffered, but she shuddered to imagine what his fate would have been if Cord had not discovered the truth.
For hours, Jaime's mind whirled, but eventually weariness overcame her anxiety and she slept. When she awoke, sunlight was streaming through the window and Blake was shaking her as he demanded in a near frenzy, "What are you doing in here? You've had everyone scared to death."
Jaime looked from him to Enolita, both staring at her with wide, anxious eyes. She offered the only explanation she could think of on short notice. "All of a sudden, I couldn't bear to be in that room after what happened the other night. I didn't think you'd mind if I came in here."
Relieved she was safe, he told her he didn't care which room she took but repeated that she had given them quite a scare. "Enolita couldn't get you to come to the door, and when she found it unlocked, she went in and panicked to see you weren't there. We've been searching high and low. I thought you had run away."
"Nothing like that," Jaime denied tonelessly.
"Well, at least you've learned your way around and didn't wind up lost." He motioned to Enolita that she could leave. When they were alone,
he shook his head in mock scolding. "Look at you. You didn't undress and you fell asleep here on the sofa. You can't be comfortable." His brows raised as he saw the orchids that had fallen to the floor. He picked them up. "Now where did these come from?"
Jaime managed to keep her voice steady. "I found some more when I was out walking."
He crushed them with an almost vengeance. "I'd like to know who broke in the greenhouse, damn them."
"If you don't mind," she said uncomfortably, "I'd like to go back to sleep. I have a headache."
"Are you sure you aren't just trying to avoid me?"
Telling herself it would soon be over, Jaime managed to deny pleasantly, "Of course not. I really and truly don't feel well."
He softened at once. "Forgive me. I'm just upset because, unless I can have time to convince you to change your mind, you're going to be leaving me."
And sooner than you think, she thought happily, gloriously.
* * *
The day passed with agonizing slowness. Jaime forced herself to join Blake for dinner, afraid, if she didn't, he would insist on having trays brought to his mother's room so they could dine there. She would have a time getting rid of him then. But she was too nervous to eat. Darkness had fallen. In a few hours it would be time to go, and she was on fire inside.
Blake watched her with concern and finally asked, "Are you all right? There's something wrong. I can tell."
"I still don't feel well, and I didn't want to come down here, but I knew you'd insist." She avoided eye contact.
He pushed his own plate away. "It's me. I know it's me. You can't stand the sight of me, because you blame me for your lover's death. Oh, Jaime, Jaime." He reached out to her to plead, "Tell me what I have to do to make you see how much I love you. I'll do anything. Just don't leave me. Give me a chance to show you how happy I can make you."
Suddenly, Jaime lost all patience and told him with an exasperated sigh, "You don't love me. You only think you do. I remind you of your mother, and you adored her, and you miss her, but that's all it is. You don't build a future with someone based on that kind of love, Blake. It would never work.
"Now you're going to have to excuse me." She stood. "Nothing I say makes any difference to you anyway. I'm going to bed now." She hurried out before he could protest.
Blake stared after her with longing. She was wrong. He did love her. And he always would.
He got up and went to his father's study and headed straight to the whiskey decanter on the table behind the desk. He had never been much of a drinker, but after the nightmare of the past few days, bourbon had become a good friend.
He was on his second glass when there was a frenzied knock on the door. "Who is it?" he yelled irritably, then froze to hear the report.
"That woman. Morena. We have her."
Blake raced to fling the door open and found himself staring down at Morena's glittering black eyes. A guard stood on either side of her, gripping her arms.
One of the men explained how she had boldly come to the front of the house, demanding to see Blake. They did not turn her away, he said, because Blake had issued orders he was to be told if she appeared.
Grabbing her and slinging her into the room, Blake slammed the door in the guards' faces after telling them to get back to their posts.
"I was going to pay you a surprise visit, but your guards had all the entrances blocked," Morena informed him mockingly.
"Maybe that's because I've been expecting you. Now tell me what you want." He sat down behind the desk again.
She laughed, a gloating sound that grated. "If you were expecting me, then you should know."
"I want to see if you've got nerve enough to ask."
"For money?" She began to walk aimlessly about the room, glancing at Stanton's things as though she had never seen them before. "That takes no nerve. I'm entitled to a share of your father's estate. He took care of me when he was alive. He would want me cared for after his death. Give me what is rightfully mine, and you will never see me again."
"I'm never going to see you again anyway. I only told the guards to bring you to me if you showed up so I could tell you to your face I'll have you shot if you ever come around here again. You didn't mean a damn thing to my father. You were just a whore. Obviously a very good whore, because he kept you around longer than the others he had through the years. If he had wanted you to have anything, he'd have left it to you in his will. I've read it. Your name wasn't mentioned. Only mine. Pointe Grande belongs to me now, and you've got five minutes to get off of it."
She wandered lazily to stand near him. "Maybe I have no legal claim, but you owe me something anyway."
He turned his back on her in a gesture of scornful dismissal. "You're crazy. And you seem to forget I hate you for driving my mother to her death."
Morena took a step closer to the whiskey decanter, which he could not see. "I've always regretted your blaming me for that," she lied, proud of how she was able to make her voice so simpering. "I only wanted her to leave him. I never thought she would do something so desperate."
"My mother was unhappy," he said, more to himself than to her as he templed his fingers and leaned back in the chair to gaze through them thoughtfully. "But I don't want to discuss her with you."
She moved quickly, slipping a tiny vial from the bodice of her dress and emptying the contents into the nearly empty bottle. The juice of the Mexican poppy would quickly put him to sleep. When he awoke later, she would be gone and so would Jaime, and no one would ever know how she had managed to spirit her away right under the guards' noses.
She moved back quickly as he whirled around. "Remember, if it wasn't for me, you'd never have found out the truth about Austin," she said.
Blake poured himself another drink. "You should be grateful I gave you a chance to prove it. Otherwise, you'd have been hanged that night, and you know it."
"And that would have made you a murderer." She stepped away from the desk and sat down on the sofa. "Where is your lady love, by the way? Still grieving for her lover?" Morena still felt a sad little jolt to think of Cord's having to die. She had enjoyed him immensely and doubted she would ever be able to find anyone else like him. But he had betrayed her and had to pay the price.
"It's none of your business, but she went to bed early. She's not feeling well." He watched her suspiciously as he gulped down the bourbon, then said, "I'm not going to give you anything, Morena, except a warning to get out of here."
She nodded, blinking her eyes as though trying to hold back tears. "I should have known you'd have no sympathy for me. I have nowhere to go. No money. Nothing. And now you tell me you will kill me if I dare come back to the only home I have ever known. I played here as a child. I know every inch of this mission." She rambled on, stalling for time, waiting for the narcotic to work.
It did not take long.
Soon, Blake's eyelids began to flutter, and his head started bobbing ever so slightly. He yawned, interrupted her to tell her to leave, he was tired of her whining, but it was an effort to raise his hand to point to the door. A great dark cloud was descending. He swallowed against it, tried to open his eyes wide to see past, but then the fog wrapped him in a paralyzing cocoon and he slumped in the chair, unconscious.
"Fool," she whispered with a small gurgle of delight. "Did you really think there was only one opening to the passage?"
She had tried the one in the cellar earlier in the evening and found it sealed. But she had anticipated that it would be and was ready with her other plan, which was to surrender at the front door, saying she could find no other way in, then pretend she had come to beg Blake for money. The only opening to the passage on this floor was in Stanton's study, and she had to find a way to get into it without arousing suspicion. Figuring that was where Blake would be, she had been ready with the poppy juice. If he hadn't been drinking and there was no way to drug him, she had been prepared to turn to drastic means as a last resort—like the knife strapped to her leg.
> The secret opening in the study, like the one in the room where Jaime slept, was concealed behind a thick panel. No one would ever suspect it existed unless they knew the mission as she did. Touching the pressure point, it slid open easily. All she had to do then was make her way upstairs. If, for some reason, the panel in Jaime's room was blocked, she could enter through any room up there. Morena smiled to think how she had not given away all her secrets.
With a deep sense of relief, she stepped into the darkness. Soon she would have everything that was rightfully hers. Jaime would turn over the map, unable to bear the sight of her father's torture, and Morena would kill them both.
She had not waited two years for nothing, she thought, as she made her way silently. And if Stanton had not turned on her, if he had kept his word to marry her, he would be here to share the victory—instead of feeding the worms.
Finally, she reached Jaime's room. The panel opened effortlessly, but a quick glance about in the moonlight evoked a sharp curse as she saw it was empty.
She clenched her fists and frantically tried to think where Jaime might be. Blake would not sleep long. In a milder dose, the Yahis used the poppy juice to relieve toothaches, so it was not terribly potent. She had given Blake a strong dose, but only enough to keep him unconscious till she could disappear with Jaime. Of course, she could have poisoned him with something else but had wanted to avoid killing him if possible. After all, with untold riches waiting in the future, Morena was not about to be hanged for murder.
There were secret doors in many of the other rooms, but Morena doubted Jaime would be in any of them. Probably she had gone for a walk. There was nothing to do but wait and hope she returned soon.
* * *
Jaime also waited.
The room seemed almost hallowed, eerily aglow from the milky white light pouring through the windows. A little earlier, she had gone out in the hall to listen and make sure all was quiet. Her plan was to go down the back stairway and leave by the rear door toward the greenhouse. She was confident she would not encounter any guards there, because everyone avoided that area since the murder.
Orchids in Moonlight Page 27