Authors: Shannah Biondine
Morgan's tone was offhand. "They never found you."
"Because you tossed other treats their way! You did it on purpose, didn't you? And you paid for the crew's cooperation. I heard what that pirate said. Haversham and his men lied to protect me. They could have distracted the pirates away from the holds, but they didn't."
"And lost a few insured crates."
Her fists went to her hips. "Now I understand why you had to sell the granary. You paid for more than a cabin, didn't you? You had this planned all along, even before we sailed. You were busy planning a number of deceptions back in London." Her eyes narrowed. "You're really very clever, sir."
He caught her fingers in his, grinning. "I assume you mean that as a compliment. The goal was to get you safely across the Atlantic. Apart from the wound to your shoulder, I accomplished that."
"One more thing." She watched his eyes closely now. "You're very good at playing the sot. I don't think you were drunk at all the night we went to the pub looking for your ring. You came back to the office late and pretended you were inebriated, just like today."
"Madam," he drawled as he led her back to the cabin, "It's rather early in this marriage for you to take that cross wifely tone with me." He bolted the door behind them and Rachel immediately went on the offensive again.
"Well? You tricked me that night, too, didn't you? Tricked me into supper with you."
He began unfastening his breeches. "I may have overplayed my state a bit, but not by much. I'd lost a contract that day I'd spent months working on. I honestly did misplace my ring. But I don't see why you'd be disagreeable about that evening. It's perhaps the fondest memory I have, other than the day I stood beside an angel in a silver gown and threw my bachelorhood to the winds."
Now he was devoid of clothing. She continued to frown up at him as he unbuttoned her blouse and nudged her toward the empty bunk. "I think a rather ardent display of gratitude's in order, Madam Tremayne. I did just save you from pirates, you know." He stretched out on the mattress.
She shed everything but her chemise and stared at his lips as she ran her tongue lightly over her own. "How do you suggest I adequately thank you?"
His manhood stiffened and stood against his belly even as she watched. His eyes closed and he released a deep sigh. "You could start by kissing me." She moved closer. "I'd like a nice wet kiss first."
"You would? Good idea." She bent over him.
"Rachel!" He bumped his head against the frame as he nearly leapt off the mattress. Her palms went to his shoulders. She calmly pressed him flat on his back once more.
"You anticipated everything else, Morgan. Didn't you know sooner or later I'd kiss you where
you
least expect it?"
Chapter 17
She rang twice before the heavy front door swung open and Elaine greeted her. "Richelle! You're finally here."
Richelle nodded. "Can you pay the hackney driver, Elaine? I've only got English currency." The cabby set Richelle's trunk on the porch and bobbed back upright, eager palm open as he grinned at the older woman.
"Take care of him, Cam."
Elaine threaded her stepdaughter's arm through hers. She drew Richelle inside the spacious foyer. Cameron Nash, older brother of Cletus, came down the curving staircase and went out to pay the cab fare.
Richelle fought a momentary panic and instantaneous loathing. She'd fervently prayed that she'd never have to set eyes on that man again when she'd left Oregon. Wished he'd have caught the lung sickness like his brother and followed him straight to hell. Instead, he'd come back to his old haunts.
She stalked past him and perched on the edge of the velvet sofa in the sitting room near Elaine. She deliberately kept her voice low. "What's Cameron doing here?"
"He lives here."
Good God. He lives here?
Richelle saw her father's wing chair was empty. "You'll have to tell me how that came about. Right now I want to see Papa."
"I'm afraid you're too late, dear. Your father passed away in March. I suppose it took time for my letter to reach Violet, then of course, you had to sail home. Jeremiah understood you wanted to be with him."
Richelle stared at her stepmother. Hadn't she predicted this? Until Elaine reached a hand to the lace at her throat and forced Richelle to focus on the fabric there, Richelle hadn't noticed her stepmother also wore weeds.
Boots clicked across the polished marble floor. Richelle spotted Cameron leering from her at the edge of her vision. She fought the instinct to visibly shudder. "I think I need to be alone. I'd like my trunk brought up to my room, please."
Elaine clucked her tongue and nodded. Richelle snatched up her handbag and started for the staircase, giving Cameron a wide berth. Elaine followed Richelle up to the second floor. "You'll find everything just as you left it." Cameron stepped into the room and let his eyes sweep over Richelle as he set down the trunk. Elaine was busy fiddling with the window shades and didn't notice. "If you need anything—"
"Please, Elaine," Richelle all but sobbed. "I just need some time."
Elaine shot Cameron a pointed look and the pair left the bedroom. Richelle heard the door close with a sharp click, but couldn't see for the tears in her eyes.
Papa, I'm sorry I let you down. I tried, I really did. But what happened here? How could you let a monster into our home?
Richelle told herself she shouldn't cry. Papa's had been a good life in many ways. He'd been a successful man, happy in his work. A good father to his only child. Jeremiah Hardwick's business associates and workers had admired him. He'd been a godfearing man, well liked by everyone. There was no reason to mourn.
But Richelle
was
mourning, and she needed the one person who'd understand her grief to mourn with her.
But she had no way to reach Morgan now. He was in some New York hotel alone, and he still didn't know the woman he'd escorted to America.
For she'd never admitted the truth.
She'd given herself a dozen excuses why: Morgan had interrupted her, the timing or his mood hadn't been right, they weren't close enough to risk it, they were too close to risk it. Now she cursed aloud. "Richelle, you sound like a man making up reasons to visit a saloon. A thirsty man makes his own excuses and a cowardly woman does, too!"
There had been opportunities enough. She might have done it so many times, but she'd been afraid. She convinced herself Morgan would have been horrified and rejected her. That was what she feared most—Morgan's rejection. Yet she'd set herself up for it. She'd perpetuated the lie, but given him the address of this house. What in God's name would he think when he came here?
Her error hadn't been in trusting Morgan to book her passage, only to wind up married to him as the result.
That
had been wisdom. Perhaps the first instinctively bright thing she'd done in her life, besides go to Crowshaven in the first place. Her mistake had been in keeping the secret all this time.
He might have listened, Richelle! He might have understood!
But she'd never given him the chance. Instead she'd come back to Philadelphia alone.
To a house that was no longer home, to people she didn't like. Her father was dead. Buried over a month ago. Something felt very wrong. It wasn't just that Richelle detested Cameron and had been appalled to find him living under this roof. Elaine was different, too.
Almost as if reading her mind, her stepmother chose that moment to come rapping at the door. "We need to talk, Richelle." Elaine was clad in a turquoise dressing gown now. She settled on Richelle's vanity bench. "Is that a new ring?" Elaine's eyes positively glittered, like those of a raven staring at something shiny.
Richelle shoved her left hand into a skirt pocket. "Yes. An old family ring Violet found in a drawer. What did you want to speak to me about?"
"I know it seems crass, but we must discuss the financial effects of Jeremiah's death. He had a life insurance policy, but some of that money went for medical and burial expenses. I couldn't give a prominent man a cheap funeral."
Richelle shrugged. "He gave you plenty of good things during his life. The least you could do was return the favor after his death."
"Well now, about the will."
"What about it? Didn't he leave you everything?"
"He left me a small trust and half the house. You got everything else. The factory, money in his bank accounts. But Jeremiah's lawyer is executor and he talked Jeremiah into a provision that we must each remarry to take control of what he bequeathed us."
"Remarry? Papa wanted you to remarry so soon as he was in the ground? Why?"
Elaine sighed in exasperation. "That damned lawyer convinced him that women aren't capable of managing financial matters or property without men to oversee things. You know Jeremiah always made the decisions in this house."
With you guiding him every step of the way
, Richelle's mind supplied.
You could command the Union army without a man's help.
Elaine folded her arms below her breasts. "I've been mistress of this house for years. You should deed your half over to me. You'll have an attractive dowry without it. I've prepared a quitclaim deed for you to sign. Cameron and I will be married soon."
Richelle pointedly refused to even glance at the document. "I'm not a child now. You can't order me around or pack me off to boarding school. You're not taking over this house."
"I get a measly insurance policy and a stipend barely enough to live on. That's not fair. I should get this house after putting up with Jeremiah for all those years."
"Putting up with him?" Richelle came off the bed now. "I always thought you ran him around on a short leash, and he was just too enamored to see it. But I was wrong. He knew you better than we thought. This is his revenge. He didn't leave you much, and what he did requires a man's control. Just the opposite of when he was alive." Richelle laughed out loud. "Go ahead and marry that greedy monster downstairs if you like, but you both can find another residence. I'm not signing away my birthright."
Elaine snorted in derision. "Brave talk from a jail bird. There's still a warrant on your head, missy! I could send a note to the constable right now and tell him to come pick you up."
"Yes, and I wondered why you didn't. Until you explained about the will, I couldn't figure out why you didn't have the constable waiting for me. But you don't mean to stay on. You want to sell. That's why you need full title." The narrowing of Elaine's eyes said Richelle had guessed right.
"I've tried to be civil," her stepmother hissed. "Cameron won't be so nice. I've given enough years to this place and you Hardwicks. You'll sign." She threw the quitclaim on the bed and rose to leave.
Cameron arrived on cue. "Heard what you said about my manners, Elaine, and you know you're right? Hard bein' polite when my sister-in-law's so unfriendly. Did you hear a howdy? Not from Richelle, no sir. Never liked me to visit the farm, complained when I took Cletus out to a saloon for a round of cards. My only brother dies of lung sickness, which he never would have caught if his wife would have taken decent care of him, and Sis here sells the place just like that. Sold the land Cletus got for free. Didn't offer to split one dime of her pure profit with me."
"You never lifted a finger on the farm," Richelle observed.
"Followed you to Carson City, though, Sis. Cletus signed them papers to sell on account we owed a dude there a chunk of money. But I found that little note and the money you left in his room, so at least I got somethin' out of the deal. Pity about that mix-up with the fella's whiskey." His laughter sent a chill down Richelle's spine. "You'd think a man smart enough to draw an inside straight three times in one game would be brighter than to drink from a tainted bottle."
Richelle's voice was shaky. "Even you wouldn't resort to—"
"Creative jugglin's what I call it. Gambling debt here, dandy gets himself corned and drinks from the wrong bottle there. Adds up to zero. Zero debt for me, zero future for him."
Elaine hovered near the doorway. "We're not going to let you scoop up all the poker chips, Richelle. Cam worked with an alchemist before he went to work for your father. Cam knows about compounds and chemicals. I'd rethink your position about the quitclaim."
"I'm not staying in this house another minute."
"Wrong, Sis," Cameron replied. "Elaine honey, Sis and I need to catch up on old times. Believe she'll see things different after we do. Go on and see about supper. Ours, that is. I'll be seein' to Richelle's."
Elaine stalked out. Cameron locked the bedroom door and gave Richelle a lewd wink. His eyes dropped to her feet and slowly moved up to her face. "Lookin' better than ever, Sis. Little on the scrawny side back on the farm, but you got a decent set of teats on you now. Always did have one nice little rear."
"Stay away from me."
He threw his hands to his chest in mock surprise. "Is that any way to treat your long-lost brother? Oh, wait. That ain't right. I'm gonna marry the old lady downstairs. Makes me your new papa."
Richelle backed away by inches until she bumped against the vanity table. She reached behind her. Her fingers closed over a metal comb with a long handle. She raised the pointed end toward Cameron's midsection.