Heat of a Savage Moon--The Moon Trilogy--Book Two

by Jane Bonander

  The young girl came back and hovered nearby until they’d all finished their soup, then quickly removed the bowls from the table. She artlessly piled them on top of each other and hugged them to her chest as she hurried from the room.

  Mrs. Gaspard followed the girl with her eyes, then smiled at Rachel. “We don’t have many servants, Rachel. But from time to time, when we have guests, we appreciate the help. Olivia,” she said, nodding toward the door, “is our housekeeper’s granddaughter.”

  Rachel nodded and glanced at the door as the housekeeper came through with a tray of food.

  “Want me to serve?” she asked in thickly accented English.

  Mrs. Gaspard shook her head. “We’ll manage, Concetta. Thank you.”

  Jason stood and hugged the heavy old woman, catching her off guard. “Shoo!” she scolded, trying hard not to laugh.

  “Brau krub! Ah, Concetta, you’ll spoil me,” Jason said, giving the woman a noisy kiss on the cheek.

  Concetta wrinkled her nose. “I already have, you crazy boy. I no understand why you like that Swede food.” She clucked her tongue noisily as she left the room. “Tortillas and beans much better.”

  The dish Jason was so fond of, the one Rachel couldn’t pronounce, was served in an ornate square serving dish.

  “Do you like dumplings, Rachel?” Mrs. Gaspard reached for Rachel’s plate.

  Rachel thought the dish smelled wonderful. The soup had whetted her appetite. “Oh, yes,” she answered, allowing Mrs. Gaspard to put a spoonful on her plate. “Very much.” She discovered that the dumpling-like consistency had chunks of pork throughout. Though the dumplings were an odd shade of gray, the dish was rich and tasty.

  Anna Gaspard heaped a large helping on her husband’s and her son’s plates before dropping a spoonful on her own.

  “So,” Nicolas Gaspard said between mouthfuls. “You think Ty is involved. Why not Buck?”

  Jason took a drink of water. “Buck’s mad enough to have done it, I know that. But, no matter what anyone else thinks, I know him. I know what he’s capable of. He wouldn’t burn down the school.”

  Chuckling dryly, Mr. Gaspard said, “Maybe because you love him like a brother you’re a poor judge of his character.”

  Jason sighed deeply and shrugged. “I don’t think so, Dad.”

  The family continued to talk of crops, siblings, and the recent trip to Washington, D.C., until Concetta and little Olivia came in to clear the table.

  “So,” Concetta said as the last of the plates were cleared away. “Now, you eat something good, not something I have to make with blood from a cow.”

  Rachel’s stomach became queasy as she watched Concetta waddle out of the room. Blood from a cow? She looked from Jason to his mother, an obvious question in her eyes.

  Jason gave her an innocent look. “Didn’t you enjoy the dumplings?”

  She cleared her throat. “Well… of course. But… just what were they?”

  Jason grinned, his dark, slumberous eyes twinkling. “Blood dumplings. One of my mother’s favorite Swedish recipes.”

  She swallowed and tried to smile. For some reason, the delicious-looking flan that Concetta served them for dessert suddenly held little appeal.

  After dinner, when Jason and his father excused themselves to go over some books, Rachel asked where she could freshen up.

  She followed the housekeeper up the stairs to the bathroom. After lighting the lamps on either side of the mirror, the woman left Rachel alone. The room, now bathed in light, made Rachel gasp. Never had she known anyone with such a palatial bathroom. Even a flush toilet! She stared at the brass and porcelain pull-flush fixtures and the unique embossed pedestal. Her astonished gaze moved to the roomy, high-sided sink with the brass faucets and she glanced up, finding her image in the mirror.

  She looked as she felt—a poor little waif coming in out of the cold, to find warmth in a mansion. She’d only read of places like this. It was, in her mind, the highest form of luxury a person could have. And the tub. Room enough for two, certainly. Realizing where her thoughts were going, she blushed, but allowed herself the brief fantasy, anyway.

  Sitting in the huge claw-footed porcelain tub with the mahogany rim, water lapping at her breasts, she would look up and find Jason watching her. Her blood would thicken with desire.

  Come, join me.

  The look he would give her would reheat the water. Without saying a word, he would undress in front of her, dropping his clothes to the floor. Her heart would ache anew when he revealed his massively scarred torso, and she would urge him to get in so she could touch it, wash it, kiss it.

  Your look tells me you’re anxious, he would say as he slowly, seductively unbuttoned his fly.

  I’m very anxious—for you. She would watch, breathless as he slid his trousers down over his hard, lean hips. And there it would be… that part of him that she had seen so very briefly their first night together. But she remembered. Long and stiff against his stomach, nestled in that thick thatch of dark hair, it looked as if it might split her in two. But she knew better…

  A noise from downstairs awakened her from her ill-advised daydreams. She blushed again, glancing at the flowered wallpaper, then at the burgundy and white checkerboard tiled floor. How could she think of these things in his parents’ home!

  After freshening up, she turned down the lamps and left the bathroom with a sigh of regret. As she started back down the hall, she thought she heard singing coming from a room at the far end of the stairs. The door was open. She crept to it and looked in.

  A woman, clearly older than Rachel, sat in a rocking chair, singing to a baby. At least, that’s what Rachel thought it was until she stepped closer. Her heart pinched with pity when she realized the woman was singing to a doll. She could see her face in the mirror, haunting shadows thrown across it from the dimly lit globe parlor lamp that sat on the dresser. The woman’s incredible, exotic beauty caused Rachel to unconsciously let out a ragged sigh.

  The woman looked up, catching Rachel’s image in the mirror. The large black eyes were warm, yet somehow distant. “Anna?”

  Rachel hesitated before stepping closer. “No, I’m… I’m Rachel.”

  The woman continued to rock back and forth, the doll held snugly against her chest. “I’m hurtin’ again, Anna.”

  Rachel stepped to her side and sat down on the needlepoint footstool. “I’m sorry you’re hurting.” She gazed at the woman, noting for the first time the ragged scar that cut into the left side of her face.

  The woman shook her head. “I can go for a long time without thinkin’ about it, you know?”

  Listening to the woman’s speech, Rachel would have thought she was merely a girl, not a grown woman. “I… I think I understand.” She stared at the woman’s beauty, wondering what could have hurt her so much that she fled into this private, painful world.

  “I get to thinkin’ about Molly, you know?”

  Rachel felt as though she were snooping into something that didn’t concern her or that shouldn’t concern her. But she couldn’t just walk away. “Molly? What about Molly?”

  The woman’s smile transformed her looks beyond beauty. “She’s my baby.” She looked down at the doll, then glanced at Rachel. “I know this ain’t Molly. But sometimes…” She sighed, dropping the doll into her lap. “Sometimes I can’t quite forget about the pain… the hurt…” Her gaze went off to some distant place.

  Rachel caught the doll before it fell to the floor. As she was putting it down on the bed, she saw Jason towering in the doorway. Her heart leaped with her newfound feelings of love.

  “I was worried about you.”

  She felt herself flush again. “I’m sorry… I heard her singing, and I was curious…”

  He stepped into the room and looked down at the woman who now appeared to be in some sort of trance. Lovingly touching her hair, he said, “June?”

  When she heard his voice, she shook herself a
nd smiled up at him. “Jason. Have you seen Molly?”

  “She’s away at school. She left three months ago.”

  June frowned, as if trying to remember. “School? Where?”

  “In San Francisco. With Jillian and Martha, remember?”

  A beatific smile spread across her face. “Oh, I remember.” She grabbed Jason’s hand and pressed it to her cheek. “I love you, Jason.”

  “I love you, too.” He continued to touch her hair.

  Tears stung Rachel’s eyes at this obvious loving exchange.

  “I see you’ve met Rachel,” he said softly.

  She turned and looked up at him, then at Rachel. She gave him a girlish little laugh. “At first I thought she was Anna. Then, I knew she wasn’t.” Her smile faded. “I wish things would stay the same…”

  Jason bent to kiss her cheek. “So do I, June. Is there anything I can get you before I leave?”

  She gave him a wan smile. “No. But thank you anyway.”

  Rachel’s heart ached for both of them. There was a bond of pain between them. She didn’t have to be intuitive to notice that.

  “Who is she?” she asked as they descended the stairs.

  He uttered a deep sigh. “It’s a long, long story.”

  “Will you tell me sometime?”

  He took her cape off the coatrack and slipped it across her shoulders. “Maybe.”

  Frustration welled up in her. “Is she a relative?”

  “No, but we grew up together.”

  “In the mountains?” The meager amount of information he was willing to share baffled her.

  “Yes, you inquisitive woman, in the mountains.”

  “I’d really like to hear about it sometime.”

  He shook his head and smiled at her. “You don’t give up easily, do you?”

  “I guess not.” She answered his smile.

  June appeared at the top of the stairs just then and told Jason she needed him.

  He gave the older woman a patient look. “I’ll be right back,” he said, gently squeezing Rachel’s arm.

  Rachel took a deep breath and gazed around the foyer again. Spying a vase of winter wildflowers on a table against the wall, she wandered to them and pulled their clean smell deep into her lungs.

  Suddenly she heard Mrs. Gaspard’s voice from behind the door of the study. “You really shouldn’t blame the girl for that, Nicolas.”

  Rachel’s stomach dipped. She stepped away, not wanting to eavesdrop.

  “But, darling,” Mrs. Gaspard said in response to something Rachel didn’t hear. “You of all people should know she had nothing to do with that.”

  Rachel instinctively knew they were discussing her. Letting out a whoosh of air, she stepped quickly back toward the stairs, grateful that Jason was on his way down.

  “Anything serious?” she asked.

  Shaking his head, he steered her toward the study just as his mother was coming out.

  “You’re leaving? Already?” Mrs. Gaspard looked genuinely sorry to see them go.

  “I have an early day tomorrow, Mother. And Rachel has to be at the office in case we get any business.”

  Worry lines immediately etched themselves into Anna Gaspard’s pretty face. “Oh, darling. Things haven’t picked up? Don’t those foolish people in Pine Valley know an excellent physician when they see one?”

  Jason gave his mother a wry smile. “I get their business slowly, Mother. I’m a patient man.”

  She broke down and smiled. “You’re a what?”

  He threw up his hands in defense. “I’m learning to be a patient man.”

  She crossed the space between them and gave her son a warm hug. “Take care of yourself. Don’t forget the goodies Concetta made for you.”

  Stepping away, she gave Rachel a tender smile. “It was so nice to meet you. You’ll come again, won’t you?”

  “I… yes, I’d like that, very much. Thank you so much for a lovely evening.”

  With that, Jason picked up his food basket and they left. Once in the buggy, the fur blanket tucked back in around them, Rachel realized she hadn’t seen Jason’s father since dinner.

  “I hope I didn’t scare your father away.”

  He turned, giving her a hard look. “Why would you think that?”

  Rachel sighed. “Jason, I could sense the distance he put between us. He certainly knows about Jeremy, and he doesn’t like me much because of it.”

  “You’re wrong, you know.”

  She shook her head and smiled in the darkness. “I’m not wrong. What other reason could he have for disliking me?”

  Jason didn’t answer her. But when she finally turned and looked at him, the moon bathing his face in light, she was certain she saw pain, deep and permanent, carved into his features.

  Rachel stepped into the office the next morning and glanced at the envelope that was lying on the desk. It had her name on it. She crossed the room, picked it up and peeked inside. Smiling, she saw the money and the little note from Jason.

  As she counted it, she tried to decide how to divvy it up. Three ways was probably best. Thirds for Mr. Justice, Mr. Bailey, and somehow she’d have to force Ivy to take a third. She felt guilty living off the woman’s good graces.

  Slipping the envelope into her purse, she decided now was as good a time as any to start repaying her loans. She left the office and strolled down the street, pausing briefly in front of the dress shop to look at the black silk full-length cape that hung on the mannequin in the window. It was so beautiful. The hood was edged with velvet, and the lining of the cape was velvet, too.

  With a heavy sigh, she continued to walk toward the saloon. She didn’t need a new cape. Hers was wool, warm and sturdy. Very practical. She made a little face. Everything she owned was practical—except her wedding dress, and what good was that? Every time she looked at it, she was filled with sad, bitter memories, but she was too sensible to get rid of it.

  She stepped into the saloon and her stomach dropped further. Harvey, the muscle-bound bartender, gave her a lusty look from behind the bar.

  “You here to see me, honey?”

  Blushing, she realized she didn’t even know how to respond to such banter. “Ah, no. I… I wanted to… to see Mr. Justice.”

  “Ah, hell. He’s just an old man.” Harvey gave her a suggestive grin. “I, on the other hand, ain’t old at all.”

  Rachel was ready to turn around and leave, when Tess ran down the stairs, stopping on the landing. “Harv! Get your ass up here!”

  He gave Rachel a lecherous smile. “Another time, sweetheart.” He tossed his towel on the counter and followed Tess upstairs.

  Rachel shuddered. As she approached the office door, she heard loud voices. She didn’t want to interrupt a confrontation. She could pay Mr. Justice another time. Turning to leave, she heard one of the voices say Jeremy’s name. Praying she’d be forgiven for eavesdropping, she quietly stepped closer and listened.

  “I didn’t raise you to be a tramp. Your mama would turn over in her grave if she knew what’s happened to you.”

  Rachel listened to the self-righteous sound of Bram Justice’s Southern drawl.

  “Oh, Papa, how could you? I can’t forgive you for that. And I won’t let you take this away from me. I’m not ashamed. I’m proud to be carrying his child. Proud. And if I thought for a minute that you—”

  “He was a married man, girl!” he interrupted. “Have you no sense of pride?”

  “But he loved me. He truly did. He didn’t love her. Papa, he told me he never even slept with her.”

  Rachel became nauseous. Sinking into a chair near the wall, she put her hand over her mouth, not even wanting to hear any more. But she couldn’t leave. Where Jeremy was concerned, she seemed to be a glutton for punishment.

  “And you believed that? Don’t be a stupid fool. No man marries a woman then doesn’t sleep with her. Love has nothing to do with sex, girl. Haven’t you
learned that? Hell and damnation, he came to this establishment to sleep with whores. How can you profess to love a man like that?”

  “But that’s just it, Papa. He didn’t sleep with a whore. He slept with me. I knew the minute I saw him that he was the man for me. And I was a virgin, Papa. He never slept with anyone else after he slept with me.”

  Justice swore. “I suppose he told you that?”

  It was quiet behind the closed doors for a long, agonizing minute. Rachel stood, preparing to leave in spite of the weakness that had taken hold of her.

  “Jeremy didn’t have to tell me, Papa. I loved him. I knew him.”

  As Rachel hurried toward the exit, the door behind her opened.

  “Miz Weber?”

  She stopped, trying frantically to compose herself. Finally, she turned around. “I’m… I’m sorry, Mr. Justice. I didn’t… I didn’t realize it was so early. I don’t want to disturb you.”

  His gaze was guarded. “You didn’t, ma’am. What can I do for you?”

  Smiling nervously, she fished into her purse with shaky fingers. “I have some money for you.”

  “I don’t want to put you out.”

  Rachel looked up and saw Karleen step into the room behind her father. There was no doubt in her mind that Jeremy had found the girl beautiful, for she certainly was. Her hair, long and golden, hung in unruly curls over her shoulders. She gave Rachel a cautious look.

  Rachel glanced away, concentrating again on her payment. “It’s no trouble, really. I… I’ve already planned for it.” She handed him the money. “I’m sorry it’s not more, but I will pay you, every cent.” She forced another smile, although she felt as if she were going to throw up. “It will just take a little time.”

  Justice took the money. “Would you like a receipt?”

  Rachel shook her head. All she wanted was to get away. “Perhaps another time. Thank you, Mr. Justice.” After giving Karleen a quick glance, she hurried from the saloon.

  Bram Justice watched her leave, then turned on his daughter. “Well, do you feel better now, knowing she heard what we said?”

  Karleen squirmed. “You don’t know that.”

  “I do know that. What I don’t know,” he added, his gaze returning to the front door, “is how much she heard.”