“No, nothing specific,” she tilted her head, lovely violet eyes assessing him curiously.
A niggling of disappointment, a feeling of having lost something he’d never known he wanted pricked his heart. Suddenly the thought of children, of a life and family did not seem so unattainable… so forbidden. “Because you know you can tell me anything.”
She shuddered through another swallow of the tea before turning a baleful expression to him. “Please, Curtis, you never talk to me.”
“I know, I know,” he waved a hand and took the mug from her hands clasping them warmly. “I am a terrible husband, and Lord knows you deserve so much better, but,” his eyes roamed over her with a sort of electric excitement, “please don’t be afraid to tell me anything important. Whatever happens, I’ll always be there for you.”
“Curtis,” she hesitated, chewing nervously at her bottom lip. “I want to believe that, I really do, because I lo—”
Abruptly she stopped the flow of words, and the fact wrenched his heart despite having ordered her before not to say it. So why did he suddenly desire the words?
“In the last couple weeks you’ve hardly looked at me, much less spoken about anything important. I just don’t know what to believe or even what you want from… us. You said that you don’t want a marriage in name only, but, Curtis, I can’t live like this. You don’t talk to me, you hardly look at me, and I need to know what is wrong. Living in silence… it’s killing me.”
Killing her? A troubled breath escaped his lungs. The guilt riddling him was not something he could dispel, especially in the face of such pure goodness as was mirrored in the eyes of his wife. “Cadence, I’m sorry. I will try to make things better for you, I promise.”
“Why are you trying to make things better for me?” She looked straight into his eyes. “Shouldn’t you be trying for us?”
* * *
It was impossible to tell if he was angry with her or warring within his own conscience as his jaw flexed testily. Abruptly he shoved away from the bed. Grabbing the clock from his desk he cranked the hour hand forward and said, “There, now it’s Christmas. I have a present for you.” He opened the top drawer of his scarred oak desk and removed a small parcel wrapped in layers of brown paper.
“Oh, Curtis,” she murmured reaching for the package. Tearing gently through a corner of the paper she lifted the layers away revealing the porcelain miniature of an angel. The angel had pale golden curls and was dressed in exquisite white robes that were ever so slightly darker than the pure white feathered wings. The craftsmanship was exquisite, but it was not the overall beauty of the piece that so struck her but the color of the angel’s eyes…a pale, soft violet, exactly like hers. A small card dangled from the ornament. Lifting the paper, she slipped her thumb along the fold, instantly recognizing Curtis’ impossible scrawl.
To my angel.
Tears welled in her eyes as she pressed a hand to her lips. He cared for her. She could feel it into the depths of her soul; maybe he even loved her. Whirling, she flung her arms around his neck. “I have something for you too,” she whispered into his ear. Pulling out of his arms she turned to the steamer trunk he’d secured for her in London. Lifting the lid it took but a moment to locate the small black box she’d stowed beneath her extra undergarments. “I hope you like it,” she held the box to him. “It’s a compass.”
“I can’t open it and be surprised?”
Her cheeks grew hot as he flashed a teasing grin, and opened the box. The compass was silver in color with a long chain and an engraving of the nighttime sky with the North Star at the center on the face. It had cost near all of the money she’d brought to start a new life in London.
“So you’ll never lose your way.”
“Oh, Cadence…” The happiness in his voice sounded deep and musical, “Thank you. This means a lot to me.” He gathered her into his arms and she was content to lie against his chest for as long as he would let her, just breathing him in. At last he said, “You should try to get some rest.” He shifted her to the bed, pulling the quilt over her lap, and pressed a quick kiss to her brow.
Curtis turned to leave, but her soft fingers reached out to stop him.
“Stay?”
“Cadence, I—”
“It’s Christmas, Curtis,” she interrupted before he could refuse her.
His eyes softened and after a moment he nodded. Warily he sank to the edge of the bed, swinging his legs over the edge and leaning his back against the bulkhead. He stretched an arm out, inviting her in. She settled into the crook of his arm and he pulled her across his chest. She snuggled into her special place, where they fit together just so, and after a moment she felt him relax beneath her.
His breath breezed through her hair. “You smell good,” he murmured.
She just smiled, hoping he’d finally claim a few hours of sleep.
Cadence awoke Christmas morning to the steady thud of Curtis’s heart and the gentle swish of his breathing. Lying across the muscled expanse of his chest, she carefully lifted her head. He looked adorable half sitting/half reclining against the bulkhead, soundly asleep but still cradling her against his chest. He looked peaceful in sleep, relaxed and youthful. She didn’t want to wake him, but almost as soon as she moved he startled awake. With a small smile he rubbed her arm and said, “Merry Christmas,” through a huge yawn.
And her heart melted in that very precious moment, so amazingly perfect she would be content for every morning to be just this way for the rest of her life. His warm eyes smiled into hers and it was as though their every problem ceased to exist.
“Captain!” Several sharp raps sounded on the cabin door.
“Awhoosshh,” Curtis exhaled rubbing a hand over his sleep riddled face. “Yes?” he croaked, shifting away from her.
The moment ended.
The single perfect moment of solitude dissipated as Curtis slung his legs over the side of the bed, stood, and headed for the door. It… was… over.
Nineteen
“I want you to stay below while I take care of a few things.”
Cadence nodded toward the open door but her husband had already disappeared. Glancing through the porthole she could see the Charleston docks, and she wanted nothing more than to hide within the confines of the ship. She wasn’t just scared of what may await her outside of the protective hull, she was terrified, near to paralyzed. The temptation to simply disappear was strong. After all she’d successfully disappeared once in London, and if she had refused Curtis she would be free and clear now.
Or would she?
Grudgingly, she had to admit she wouldn’t have lasted a day alone in London, and present circumstances could be little different. Nervously she chewed her lips and stole a glimpse of Curtis striding across the dock, directing the unloading of the cargo. Even from her secluded viewpoint it was obvious word of the ship’s return had spread like wildfire through town. Bystanders, several of whom were women, had flocked to the port. A small twinge jealousy came to life at the sight of women giggling and pointing at her husband who, as usual, seemed entirely oblivious to the attention and how sinfully good he looked in his battered favorite blue sweater.
While their relationship had improved in the last weeks of the voyage it had still been strained, and she felt at a total loss. Since Christmas morning Curtis had finally started speaking to her, though he’d still hardly touched her since the day she’d found his coffer. Now, watching other women fawn over him, she couldn’t help but wonder…
Curtis disappeared from sight and with a sigh she flopped into his chair, nervously tapping the weathered desktop. She stared at the picture of him and his brothers, lost in her thoughts. The clamor of heavy footsteps thumping down the companionway drew her out of troubled musings. To her immense surprise three of the men from the picture appeared in full flesh and color before her very eyes.
“A surprise, Curtis?” one said. “The last time you surprised us it was with—” The teasing voice snapped off
as the blue-eyed gaze of one David Langston fell upon Cadence, he stopped dead in his tracks.
“Davy!” Craig Langston was the next to stumble into the room quite literally on his older brother’s heels. “Get out of the way. Did he bring another Spanish hoo—” Upon shoving his astounded brother aside Craig was also struck speechless.
Curtis swaggered nonchalantly past his older brothers, obviously relishing having put one over on them. He crossed the room to Cadence and wrapped a husbandly arm about her shoulders. “Davy, Craig,” he nodded to each in turn. “I’d like you to meet my wife.”
For an undeterminable amount of time no one, save for Curtis, dared breathe.
“Your wife?” Craig and David said in tandem.
“My wife.”
“But, she’s wanted for murder!” David, the oldest Langston brother looked positively aghast. “Jesus, Curtis, I am a U.S. Marshal, we have been searching for her for months. Did you consider the position this puts me in before you dragged me here to meet your wife?”
Curtis shrugged.
“Curtis,” Craig said in the condescending tone mastered only by older brothers, “what in the hell is going on here?”
Curtis gave her a reassuring squeeze. “Cadence,” he murmured more seriously, “you know my brother’s Davy and Craig?”
Unable to look at anything but her shaking hands she managed a feeble nod. Curtis pulled her into his chest and pressed his lips briefly to the top of her hair.
“Love, I know you didn’t do it and these two can help us. We need to tell them what happened.” Curtis proceeded to explain the whole of the situation to his brothers who remained pensively silent throughout the telling. “How bad is it?”
Craig shook his head opening and closing his mouth several times before saying. “Bad.”
Davy nodded and cleared his throat. “Richard Carlisle and his wife saw her—um, your wife, standing over Mike Jamison’s body. She disappeared immediately after, so naturally most assumed she murdered him and then took off.”
Cadence may have fallen if not for the supportive arm linked about her waist.
“Has any other investigation been done or does everyone believe Cadence stabbed him?”
“As far as I know there hasn’t been any other investigation, but when I examined the body I said right off it was very unlikely a woman had stabbed him.” Craig was a local physician.
“What do you mean?”
“For one thing the blade was buried to the hilt, and the angle of the knife was too high. In my opinion someone very tall and of a man’s strength stabbed Mike Jamison.”
Cadence sagged with relief. The doctor’s statement confirmed what she’d seen.
“Did you tell the sheriff about this?” Curtis asked.
“Yes, but with Cadence having run away and Kathleen Morris’s damned gossip column blaring forth innuendo, it was impossible to convince anyone that someone else may have been responsible for the murder.”
“I still can’t believe Kathleen Morris has a gossip column,” Curtis snorted.
“Well,” David raked a hand through his sandy hair, “first things first. I think we should go straight to the sheriff.”
“What are we going to tell him?” Cadence gulped, gripping Curtis’ arm.
“The truth.” Davy held out his palms as though offering up the answer to their problems, his U.S. Marshal badge winked ominously in the sunlight. “Craig and I will go with you of course, but the sooner you speak with Sheriff Hudson the better. You’re a Langston now.” His face remained serious. “That will be of some value.”
Arching a dubious brow she replied, “Yes, well, I was also a Jamison and thanks to the ill will my father’s unpaid debts caused, most people in Charleston would sooner see a Jamison behind bars than vindicated.”
“That isn’t true,” Curtis squeezed her hand reassuringly. Turning to his brothers he nodded, “We’ll meet you on deck in a few minutes.”
When the other men left Cadence collapsed back into the leather chair feeling utterly overwhelmed. She wanted to scream but the effort proved too much to muster. Turning to Curtis she whispered, “I’m scared.”
“I know.” He pulled her into his arms and rested his chin on top of her head. “Everything will be fine, I promise.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Curtis.”
“I never make promises I can’t keep. I learned that lesson a long time ago.” With deliciously rough fingers he ever so gently tilted her chin until their gazes locked. His eyes brimmed with swirling emotions. “Trust me.”
Her lips parted as his warm breath tickled her mouth; he was so close, almost close enough to kiss her. It had been so long since he’d kissed her. She licked her lips invitingly.
Curtis cleared his throat. “We should go.” He hesitated glancing down at her mouth, and then stood. Cadence was devastated. Did Curtis even want her anymore?
What an emotional mess she’d become. She was on her way to an interview which may doom her to the gallows and all she could worry over is whether or not Curtis would ever really love her.
The day was blustery and so bitterly cold Cadence’s entire body tensed when she made contact with the outside air. Sensing her discomfort Curtis wrapped a sheltering arm about her and led her across the deck to the gangway.
“Are you ready to set foot on solid ground again?” He smiled down at her with eyes so warm her throat constricted, and her heart nearly stopped.
The trip to the sheriff’s office was sheer misery. Every eye in Charleston turned to her, though no one dared to approach with three of the hulking Langston brothers serving as a buffer. Despite their protection, and wearing several layers of clothes, she felt totally exposed, reminding her of the horrible dream she’d once had of arriving at school only to realize there were no clothes beneath her cloak. Only this wasn’t a dream, this was very real, and very dangerous.
The jail loomed ahead and Curtis squeezed her arm in a gesture meant to be reassuring yet felt somehow patronizing.
Her legs grew leaden and she balked at the first step. The building loomed like the gates of hell before her. “They’re going to hang me.”
“No,” Curtis continued to hold her. “You’re going to go in there and tell the truth. Everything will be fine. Remember my promise.” His words infused her with strength. Whether he resented her or not he was not the sort of man to stand by and let harm come to her. The four of them mounted the steps and opened the door to the Sheriff’s office.
George Hudson stood with a smile and began a variable chorus of greetings. “Mr. Langston,” he nodded to Davy. “Dr. Langston,” he directed to Craig. “Captain Langston,” he turned to Curtis. “Miss—” The sheriff collapsed back onto his chair.
“Mrs. Langston,” Curtis supplied for the older gentleman.
“Mrs.—Cadence! But—” George held up his hands and drew a long breath. “Alright, what is going on here?”
Curtis cleared his throat and spoke in a surprisingly congenial though authoritative voice. “During our recent voyage to Europe it came to our attention that my wife may be suspect in the murder of her father, Mike Jamison.”
The sheriff cleared his throat and sat forward across his desk. “Well, yes,” he spoke slowly as though careful of his word selection, “she is under suspicion. But suffice to say I never thought we’d see her in Charleston again.”
“Why not, Sheriff? This is her—our—home, after all.” Curtis then added, “We want nothing more than to clear up this ridiculous suspicion. She is completely innocent.”
The sheriff scowled. “So you say. Why don’t you start at the beginning and tell me what you know?”
Cadence shook uncontrollably, nearly consumed by terror, she opened her mouth to speak but no sound was forthcoming. Curtis laced her fingers through his and held firm. “Tell him the truth Cadence. Tell him everything.”
“It was the night of that big storm last September,” she began slowly, “my father had been drink
ing and in a terrible fit about the less than flattering column Kathleen Morris had printed about Curtis and me.” She felt her husband tense. “I was afraid to stay at home because my father had been drinking heavily. I decided to spend the night with Grace Leven to give him the chance to cool down, but he followed me. He screamed and yelled foul names at me the entire way.” She paused, licking dry lips, then continued, her voice quavering. “When I no longer heard his shouts, I thought he’d turned around to go home, but then I heard him scream. It was a terrible sound.” She fell silent, burying her face in her trembling hands.
“Here, Miss—er—Mrs. Langston. Have a seat,” Sheriff Hudson offered.
Cadence shook her head. “I must finish this.” She drew a ragged breath and plunged on. “I was afraid of him, but he was my father, and I had to go back, to see if he was alright. I found him lying in the alley with a tall man—” she gestured to Davy who towered over almost every man in the city “—a man even taller than Marshal Langston, rushing away from him. He was facing away from me so I never saw his face, but he was dressed all in black, I don’t know if he saw me. When the man was gone I knelt down by my father, and there was so much blood…” She shuddered. “It was all over him, and all over me, and then someone in a carriage shouted and I… I ran away. I had been thinking about it for a long time and when my father died I panicked.”
“And Captain Langston helped you run away?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Cadence replied.
George sat heavily back in his chair rubbing both palms over his face, “I don’t even want to know what that is supposed to mean. In any case the two of you are now married?”
“Yes,” Curtis nodded and his fingers lightly grazed the ring on her finger.
“Sheriff,” Craig broke the silence. “Her story only verifies what I said after inspecting the body last fall. My professional impression was that Mr. Jamison was murdered by a man.”
Cadence (Langston Brothers Series) Page 16