Touching Heaven

by Marie Higgins

She wiped her eyes dry and hurried to the main house. Anna-Mae had a chicken roasting in the oven. That and the scent of red potatoes made her stomach growl.

  When she stepped into the kitchen, Anne-Mae pulled away from the stove and smiled. “Miss Celia, I was in town today and collected the mail. There’s a letter from your aunt in Virginia.”

  Cecilia’s heart picked up rhythm. “Hopefully, it’s news from Hank.” She took the letter from her servant and ripped it open, scanning the long sentences written in her aunt’s hand, but there wasn’t any mention of Hank until the end.

  “Oh!” She crumbled the paper in her hand. “Hank didn’t arrive at Aunt Beatrice’s house.” She marched to the window and yanked back the curtain. “Where in the blazes is he?”

  Anne-Mae rushed to her side and touched her shoulder. “Miz Celia, you don’t think he’s been arrested, does ya?”

  Taking a deep breath, she tried calming her anger. “Right now I’m thinking he’s better off in jail. At least I know he won’t be getting into any more trouble.”

  “True. And he won’t be gettin’ ya in debt, either.”

  She gritted her teeth. She hoped that wasn’t what he was doing.

  HANK BLEW OUT A GUSH of air as he drummed his fingers on the gaming table. The cards in his hand weren’t as good as he’d like, but bluffing might pay off with this group of gamblers. Unfortunately, the men tonight didn’t like betting a large sum of money. That’s what he needed to get his life back—ten thousand dollars.

  He clenched his teeth and tightened his grip on the cards. He didn’t want to pay Peter Grayson that much money when he’d only taken about half of it. Yet he wouldn’t satisfy his sister any other way.

  Beside him, Rose trickled her fingers over the back of his neck. He shrugged off her touch, trying to concentrate on the game. Sometimes that woman drove him mad, and he wished he’d never invited her to help him find the person who’d stabbed Peter Grayson. All she had to do was keep her ears open to gossip around town, yet it seemed like she couldn’t even do that right. Each time she reported back to him, she had nothing to tell him.

  Her fingers twined in his hair. “Hank, would you like me to freshen your drink?”

  “Not now,” he muttered.

  Keeping his gaze on the three other men at the table, he waited for their next move. A few times he held his breath, hoping they didn’t have a higher hand, or that they knew he bluffed.

  He hadn’t been bluffing when he’d told Cecilia about the stabbing. He didn’t stab Mr. Grayson. True, he’d been drinking a lot that night, but he didn’t have it in him to do something so careless and harmful. He couldn’t kill a man in cold blood.

  Taking his money was a different thing, though. When Hank had stumbled across the unconscious gambler in the alley, fate had shown him a way to get his money back. Disappointing his sister yet again would have been pure torture, and he’d had to get his money to give to the bank before they took his house away. There had been no other way but to steal from Peter Grayson.

  He focused back on the game, and within minutes, the last man folded, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He’d won, again. Although it wasn’t what he’d wished for, any amount of money would help right now.

  He scooped up his winnings and stacked his chips, preparing for another game. The man across from him slid his chair back and stood.

  “I’m almost out of money, so I’m quitting.” He flopped his hat on his head and tipped it. “It’s been a pleasure playing with you gentlemen.” He turned and walked away.

  Under his breath, Hank cursed. The card game wouldn’t be as rewarding with only three players. Soon the other two stood and made their excuses too.

  He huffed and leaned his elbows on the table, resting his chin in his hands. Rose dropped to the empty chair beside him and frowned.

  “You didn’t win very much tonight, did you?” she whined.

  “No.”

  She sighed heavily and very loud. “You know, I’ve been thinking...” She paused and glanced around the room in a quick sweep.

  “Thinking about what?”

  “Why don’t you sit in on another card game? I’ll cozy up to one of the players and put a little sleeping powder in his drink before I take him to my room. When he falls asleep, I’ll take his money.”

  “But...that’s stealing!”

  “I call it earning my keep. I do it all the time when I know the men are not going to pay me what I’m worth.”

  “You’ve done this before?”

  “Several times.”

  “And nobody finds out?”

  She shrugged and moved the cards around on the table in front of her. “Heath Sterling caught me once, but we came to an agreement, which kept him from turning me in.”

  “What kind of agreement?”

  “I do his bidding whenever he wants, and I don’t argue.”

  He gasped. “Do you mean blackmail?”

  “He doesn’t call it that.”

  “So, he’s not going to turn you in if you do what he wants? What makes you think I’m not going to turn you in?”

  A sharp laugh came from her as she leaned in closer. “You wouldn’t do that, especially when I give you my services for free.”

  “You’re right, of course.” He heaved a deep sigh. “But I really don’t like being on the run.”

  When her gaze met his, she offered a pitiful smile. “Then maybe you should come back home with me and turn yourself in to Sheriff Hampton.”

  He snapped up straight. “What? Are you addled? I can’t do that until we find out who really stabbed Mr. Grayson.”

  “But we’ve been searching for weeks.” She shrugged. “Nobody is saying anything at Deborah’s Delights, and when I ask the customers questions, everyone skirts around the subject. I think we’ll never find the culprit.”

  He growled and pushed his fingers through his hair. “No. I won’t go back. Not now.”

  Rose put her hand on his arm. “One of these days the sheriff will find you. Then what will you do? If you turn yourself in, it’ll make you look better.”

  “Definitely not.” He pushed away her hand. “I haven’t collected enough money yet.”

  Her forehead crunched in wrinkled lines. “What does that mean?”

  Biting the side of his mouth, he debated on whether or not to tell her. She wouldn’t like what he had to say. She was right to a certain point. Time was running out, and he didn’t want the sheriff to catch him. He couldn’t be blamed for stabbing someone when he didn’t do it.

  He leaned in closer, and she met him halfway. “I figure if I win the money I had stolen from Mr. Grayson, and then give it back, he’ll be so thrilled he’ll forget that someone stabbed him.”

  She snorted. “That’s absolutely ridiculous. Of course he’s not going to forget. He’ll politely take the money from you then drag you to jail.” She shook her head. “I think if you turn yourself in, you’ll look better, and the sheriff will be easier on his sentence.” She scooted closer. “In fact, he might not even give you a sentence, since there’s no real proof you stabbed him. There’s no proof you took his money, either.”

  Hanging his head, he shook it. “Not really. I did give money to the bank. Then I confessed to my sister to taking his money.”

  Rose gasped, slapping his arm. “That was sheer stupidity, Hank.”

  He snapped his head up and glared at her. “Forgive me, but I’m not as deceitful as you. I was raised to be a gentleman.”

  “Then you must have lost some learning along the way.”

  Letting out an angry growl, he pushed away from the table. “Shut up. I am a gentleman!”

  She jumped up in front of him, planting her hands on her rounded hips. “Then prove it by turning yourself in. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do.” The anger lines on her face relaxed. “It’s the only thing to do.”

  He absolutely hated her right now, especially because the harlot made sense.

  Could he turn himself in? Would it
make him look better? Right now he was running out of options, and he didn’t enjoy the sinking fear in the pit of his stomach.

  AT LEAST THIS BUNKHOUSE was better than the last one he’d stayed in. Peter grumbled to himself and raked his fingers through his hair. He was closer to his goal, but not close enough.

  He rubbed his forehead. There was a slight pound still from last night’s drinking binge. What was he thinking getting that sloshed? He knew better. Seeing the sadness in Cecilia’s eyes when she made the deal with him caused him to drown his heartache in a tequila bottle. Didn’t work very well, though. Made him do stupid things like kissing Cecilia and holding her as if she were his night angel.

  She was his night angel. She admitted to being the one he kissed and held so passionately.

  He shook his head and ambled to the single couch in the bunkhouse. After fluffing the cushions, he sank into the softness but not as soft as he’d like. Soon. Very soon.

  Miss Cecilia Ashby put him out here to protect her reputation, but he’d find a way to make his way back to the main house where he belonged. Belle Grove would always be his home, and nothing would stand in the way of getting it back.

  A knock pounded on the door, and he jumped from the sudden noise. He hurried to see who’d be paying him a call, hoping it would be Cecilia, but when he opened the door Samuel and Kane stood holding his trunks.

  “Thought ya might lak these.” Samuel’s grin widened.

  “You thought right.” He opened the door wider. “Please come in.”

  “I think Miz Celia done good givin’ ya this bunkhouse, Mr. Grayson.”

  Peter smiled at Kane. The shorter dark-skinned man didn’t talk much, but when he did, Peter was certain to keep him going. Something must have happened to this younger man to make him so silent. He’d have to find out what had happened in his life to make him this way and try to reverse it. After all, these men would be his servants one day.

  “Yes, Miss Cecilia has a big heart.”

  “And I’m sho glad she made you overseer. Yur goin’ to be better than Homer.” Kane shuddered.

  Peter arched a brow. “What was wrong with Homer?”

  Samuel snorted. “Sides turnin’ Mastah Hank into a gambler, Homer was a stealin’ money from Mastah Hank.”

  Peter sucked in his breath. “Really? Is that why Mr. Ashby thinks he gambled away his inheritance?”

  “Sho’ enough is.”

  “Does Miss Cecilia know about this?”

  Kane shook his head, swiping his fingers through his hair. “Miz Celia has too much to worry about. I don’t want to add more to her burdens.”

  Peter clamped his hand on Kane’s shoulder and squeezed. “You’re a good man. Miss Cecilia is fortunate to have both of you as her servants.”

  Samuel chuckled. “We’s the one who’s fortunate. She and Hank are as kindhearted as their parents, God rest their souls.”

  Hank? Kindhearted? Peter bit the inside of his cheek to keep from making a rude comment. Hank was a long way from kindhearted in Peter’s opinion.

  Peter turned and led the way into his bedroom, and the others set the trunks at the end of his bed. Thinking about Cecilia and how much he’d hurt her made his stomach churn. He wanted to make it up, to undo what he’d done. He’d just have to make her like him again. Going another day without seeing her smile and the twinkle in her beautiful ocean blue eyes was out of the question. One way or another, he’d make her smile at him. She just had to.

  Peter followed the others back into the front of the house, his mind on other things besides the conversation.

  “’Don’t forget about the grindin’ of the sugarcane. We should probably get to it this week sometime,” Kane said.

  Peter nodded. “We shouldn’t let it go any longer. If Miss Cecilia wants to make a good profit on the sugar, she’ll have to get to it right away.”

  After his visitors left and he closed the door, his thoughts were filled with the grinding process. Would Cecilia want to work side-by-side with him as she’d done since he started working here? He feared he’d upset her too much with the bargain he forced her into. Her presence would certainly lift his heart if she did. Perhaps he’d mention something at dinner tonight.

  He smiled. Yes. That’s what he’d do. He’d also arrive to the evening meal looking his best.

  Chapter Twelve

  Cecilia closed the book she’d been trying to read for the past hour and dropped it to her lap. She slipped off her shoes, curled her legs underneath her on the sofa, and stared at the low burning fire. So much weighed on her mind it was impossible to think anymore.

  Not only couldn’t she stop thinking about her idiotic, careless brother, now Peter had interrupted her thoughts, and especially her dreams. Even when she closed her eyes, her body still recalled the soft caress of his hand, and the sweep of his gentle lips over hers.

  Yet when she opened her eyes, the piercing look in his hazel gaze still bore a hole in her heart as she remembered his bargain. His so-called partnership.

  She’d had no other choice but to enter into it.

  She groaned and laid her head against the back of the sofa. Why did he have to turn out to be so vindictive? Why couldn’t he have remained the sweet man she’d first met? And she wished her heart didn’t melt every time he looked at her.

  His charm had cursed her!

  Deep voices grew from the side of house and closer the longer she concentrated. She blinked and straightened, the book falling off her lap to the floor.

  Peter.

  She hurried to slip on her shoes and stand. After smoothing her hands down the front of her pink evening dress, she rushed to the door of the parlor. From the kitchen, the back door opened and shut, and Anna-Mae’s cheerful voice greeted Peter.

  Taking a deep breath, Cecilia lifted her chin and walked slowly toward their voices. The deep timbre of Peter’s voice always sent shivers over her, and tonight was no different. Her heart picked up rhythm, and she clenched her jaw to keep her smile from stretching.

  Remember the bargain.

  When she saw him standing next to Anna-Mae, her breath caught in her throat. The cad! Why did he look so gal-darn handsome tonight?

  A black suit jacket she’d not seen before swept over his shoulder, held by his hooked finger. The gold vest emphasized his incredible chest, and the white of his shirt made his tan appear darker. Around his neck, he had a string tie, adding to his dressy attire. His black trousers molded to the curve of his hips and thighs, causing her to release a small sigh. She bit her lip to keep it from being very loud.

  Peter turned and looked at her, and her heart stopped. He smiled, and she nearly lost feeling in her legs and almost dissolved into a puddle on the ground. She clenched her hands into fists, her nails digging into her palms. No! She mustn’t act this way. He was a swindler. A thief. If she didn’t take better precautions, he would certainly steal her heart.

  She cleared her throat. “Good evening, Mr. Grayson.”

  He nodded. “Good evening, Miss Ashby.”

  “You are here a little early. Anna-Mae hasn’t even set the table yet.”

  He glanced at her servant. “Would you like me to help you, Ma’am?”

  The large woman giggled like a schoolgirl, and Cecilia rolled her eyes. It wasn’t very often the older woman acted this way.

  “Thank ya kindly, ya handsome fella, but I’m just fine.” She shooed him with her hands. “Why don’t you two go into the parlor and visit? I’m sho y’all have plenty to talk about until dinner’s ready.”

  Cecilia scowled. She didn’t want to be alone with him. She’d be too worried what would happen. After all, they would be in the same room he’d kissed her when she thought she had dreamed about him.

  He faced her and bowed slightly. “Miss Ashby.” He straightened and held out his elbow like a gentleman. “Will you allow me to escort you into the parlor?”

  She shot a glare at her servant who now refused to look her way. She’d have a little t
alk with that woman before the night ended.

  Although Cecilia wanted to lift her nose and walk away from his gentlemanly offer, she’d been raised a lady, so she hesitantly placed her hand on his arm. Warmth from his body blasted through her limb, spreading like wildfire. She cursed the effect he had on her.

  She walked beside him in silence. The scent of pine and all man enveloped her, causing her limbs to weaken once again. Lord, help me remove these sensations.

  The moment she stepped into the parlor, she dropped her hand. Instead of moving toward the sofa, she chose the window where the air felt cooler. “Are you settled into your house yet?” she asked over her shoulder.

  “Yes. You forget I don’t have a lot of baggage.”

  She leaned her back against the window frame. “Why is that, Mr. Grayson?”

  “Because I’ve been traveling from town to town, gambling my way to riches.”

  “Then why haven’t you continued on your way? Why stop here?”

  He laid his jacket across one of the chairs then sauntered toward her. The rhythm of her heart accelerated, and she shook with anticipation, so she crossed her arms.

  “A couple of reasons, really.”

  She swallowed hard. “What are they?”

  He stopped mere inches in front of her. She had to tilt her head back to see into his eyes—eyes darker than before. Curse his hide for his irresistible charm.

  “Once I’d been stabbed and robbed, I couldn’t very well continue on my journey.”

  She nodded. “True. I see the reasoning behind that.”

  “And the other reason,” he paused as his fingers brushed against her cheek, “is because I’d met a woman who fascinated me. A woman who came to me during the night and kissed me with such passion I couldn’t get her off my mind.”

  Against her will, her breathing quickened, and her mouth turned dry as cotton in a windstorm. She couldn’t even muster enough liquid in her throat to swallow.

  “After I’d left Doc Copeland’s office,” he continued, “I met another beautiful and interesting woman. A woman I enjoyed being around. She made me laugh, and she treated me with exceptional kindness.”