The Moon and the Stars (14 page)

Wade swung out of the saddle and with long strides
came to her. He bent his head to unlock the cuffs, then lifted her into his arms. “
Ma chère
, are you hurt?”

In a surprising move, he laid his cheek against hers, and her breath became trapped inside her chest. “While you may be superhuman, I am not, and neither is this horse.” She was surprised she could speak at all with him holding her so close.

“You are such a small woman, and this has been too much for you.” His eyes were full of guilt because he had pushed her so hard. “You can rest for a while.”

Her head fell back on his shoulder, and she had the feeling that she would like to stay there forever. She felt his warm breath stir a lock of hair at her cheek, and she turned her face to press it against his neck. “I was not hurt, but I was afraid the horse was going to fall.”

With steady steps he carried her to an oak tree and placed her down in the shade. He knelt beside her and tilted her face up to him. “You would tell me if you had been injured, would you not? I know how stubborn you are.”

“I was just scared.” She looked into his eyes and saw genuine concern reflected there. “It is difficult to handle the animal with my hand cuffed.”

“I do not want to put the cuff on you, but you have assured me that you will escape if presented with the chance.”

“It was a promise, and I always keep my word. Anyone who knows me can tell you that.”

He gazed into her blue eyes as if hoping they would give up their secrets. “I believe you.” He rose to his full height, his demeanor suddenly cold and distant.

“I may yet elude you, Mr. Renault. It is best that you keep the cuffs on me.”

His jaw tightened. “I must see if your horse was hurt in the mishap. If all goes well, we will reach San Antonio by early afternoon.”

The scenery suddenly changed when they rode out of the rolling hills onto a well-traveled road. They galloped past several men on horseback and ate the dust from a freight wagon before they overtook it and left it behind. A Butterfield stagecoach lumbered past, going in the opposite direction. At one point they were forced to mingle with cattle being driven across the road by several determined cowhands.

Wade noticed that Caroline had bent over her saddle in an attempt to hide the handcuffs when a column of soldiers rode toward them. He also noticed that every man in the outfit stared at her with interest. Did she realize that she drew the attentions of men like a magnet? It had been his experience that beautiful women knew exactly how to use their looks to get what they wanted from a man. He did not mind getting caught in a lady's well-laid trap; in fact, most of the time he welcomed it, as long as they understood that he would never be bound to them in any way.

He had never had trouble measuring a man by his appearance and attitude, or most women, but Caroline Duncan was another story. He glanced at her now, and his heart caught in his chest. He was becoming aware of her in every way. He wanted to take the handcuffs off her and throw them as far as he could. He had to think of something besides her face, which
was smudged with dust, making her so damned adorable. He wondered what she had been like as a child. He wanted to know how much she had loved her husband.

Disgusted with himself, he nudged his horse forward, and she did the same to stay abreast of him. No matter how he tried to channel his thoughts into a different direction, they always came back to her. He had called her by an endearment when he had thought she was injured by the horse. He had never used those words with anyone else. He had wrestled with himself to keep from kissing that tempting mouth that could slide down into a pout or curve upward in a dazzling smile.

He tightened his grip on the reins, reminding himself that she might be a mistress of deception. No matter how innocent she appeared, he was not altogether convinced that she had not killed her husband.

The roadway was now crowded with ranch wagons and buggies. When Wade glanced at Caroline, he became aware of her growing embarrassment because of the handcuffs, and the attention they were drawing from the people on the road.

He motioned for her to halt, and he removed the handcuffs. “Speak to no one. I will do all the talking. You will do just as I tell you, or I will put the handcuffs back on you. Do you understand?”

She nodded, rubbing her wrist. “I understand.”

They halted once more, and Wade allowed Caroline to rest for an hour before leading her mount forward. She wearily climbed onto the saddle, wondering if they would ever reach their destination.

The closer they got to San Antonio, the more interested she became in her surroundings. She glimpsed a tall church steeple in the distance, and there was another church with a bell tower just to her right. San Antonio seemed to be a thriving town, with throngs of people from every walk of life mingling and conducting their business.

They rode past the main plaza, where a man dressed in Spanish style was haggling with another man who appeared, from the cut of his clothing and his manner of speech, to be of German descent.

As they grew closer to the center of town, the streets became more congested. Cowhands rode their horses beside well-dressed ladies in fancy carriages. When they rode past a saloon, Wade moved his horse closer to Caroline in a protective manner. She had expected him to stop at one of the hotels, but they passed them by, riding through a section of town with small houses and hovels.

Eventually they crossed a narrow wooden bridge and rode down a boulevard lined with mansions. She was taken by surprise when Wade halted before a pink stucco, two-story residence.

“Caroline, we will be staying here for a day, perhaps two.” He lifted her from her horse and set her on her feet. “This is the home of friends of mine, Nate and Dolly Housing. You will like Dolly—everyone does. She will see to your needs while we are here.”

He glanced at the front door. “I would ask that”—he paused as if trying to find the right words. “I will not tell her that you are in my custody, so she will not know unless you tell her yourself.”

“What about her husband? Will you tell him about me?”

“Nate is a very discreet man, and you can trust him to tell no one, not even his wife, about your situation.”

She flung her head back and glared at him. “I'm sure that is true, but what will he think about me? Will he think that I am your light-of-love, or your soiled dove?”

He flinched, and his golden eyes took on a deeper hue.

“He will not ask questions that will embarrass you. And Dolly will assume that I would not bring someone of questionable reputation into her house.”

She walked away from him, then paced back toward him. “You think I murdered my husband, and you don't think that would give me a questionable reputation?”

“You are presentable.”

She was so angry it took her a moment to find her voice. “It never occurred to you that I might be more comfortable in one of those hotels we passed? There I would have been anonymous. You don't understand how humiliating this will be for me.”

“
Non
. I confess I did not think about that.”

She was too weary to argue with him. The sun felt like fire on her cheeks, and her head ached dreadfully. “Do you think they will have a place where I can rest for a while?”

He guided her forward. “Let us get you in out of this heat.”

Caroline's foot had just touched the top step when the door was pulled open, and the most charming creature she had ever seen came rushing out, catching Wade in a tight hug. Caroline guessed the woman to
be somewhere in her fifties. Her red hair was streaked with gray, and it feathered softly against her plump cheeks. There was hardly a spot on her face that wasn't freckled. She was not very tall, so when she spoke in a boisterous voice, it took Caroline by surprise.

“Wade, we were so happy when we got your telegram last week. You're a welcome sight: It's been too long since you came to see us.”

“It has been much too long.” He turned his attention to Caroline. “Dolly, may I present Mrs. Caroline Duncan. I am accompanying her to Charleston, which is her home.”

Dolly turned a bright smile on Caroline and took her hand, pumping it in a vigorous handshake. “Well, honey, you can just consider our home yours as long as you're here.” Dolly led her guest inside, talking to them all the while. “You're just as welcome as you can be.” She stepped back and assessed Caroline's trousers. “Well, we will have to do something about those.”

Caroline had never gotten such an enthusiastic welcome from anyone. She glanced about the comfortable room, talking in the lace curtains at the wide windows, and the couch and three chairs upholstered in green tapestry. She knew the rug she stood upon was woven of silk. Although her hostess's pale blue gown was made of the finest muslin, it seemed to Caroline that the woman would be more at home on a ranch than in these opulent surroundings.

Wade had been right about Dolly's personality: No one could help responding to her kindness. “Thank you, Mrs. Housing.”

“No, no, no. I'll call you Caroline, and you'll call
me Dolly. We don't hold with stiff customs around here.” She looked Caroline over from head to foot. “My, but you are a tiny little thing.” She hardly paused for breath. “And you must be tired, coming all the way from San Sebastian on horseback. Why don't I get you to bed and have Trudy take you up something to eat?”

“Thank you,” Caroline said in relief. “That would be very nice.”

After Caroline had slipped out of her clothing and into the nightgown Dolly had provided for her, she sank into the soft feather mattress and fell asleep almost instantly.

She was asleep when the maid, Trudy, brought a tray of food to the room, then tiptoed out without waking her. Caroline slept through the afternoon, waking sometime during the night, trying to catch her breath.

Frightened, she got out of bed and walked around the room until she could finally take a cleansing breath.

She lay down across the bed and did not wake until sunlight filtered through the window and fell upon her pillow.

She sat up and looked about. Yesterday she had been too exhausted to notice her surroundings. The bedroom was tastefully decorated in soothing colors of cream and maroon. Her head still ached a bit, but she thought the headache might go away after she ate something.

She suddenly became distressed when she slid off
the bed and looked for her clothing. It was gone. Her head was pounding painfully, and she could hardly think.

Her gaze fell on several boxes stacked on a cream-colored lounge chair. She started to lift the lid of the top box when someone knocked on the door.

Dolly whisked into the room. “Good. I see you are awake. You slept the afternoon away yesterday.”

Caroline had taken an instant liking to the chubby little woman. “I am sorry, but your bed was so comfortable.”

Dolly plopped down on a chair, shoving a tangled curl out of her face. “We didn't want to disturb you, because you were just plumb worn out.”

While Dolly chatted on, a sudden idea hit Caroline: Perhaps Wade had taken her clothing because he was afraid she would run away in the night. “Dolly, do you know what happened to my clothes?”

“Sure I do. I threw them away. I got a telegram from Wade before you got here, asking me to get you some new duds.” She laughed and slapped her knee, rattling on, hardly giving Caroline a chance to reply. “That man told me your exact size on everything.” She frowned. “'Course, since the time was so short, I had to get store-bought things, so they might not be the best fit. I can't think why you'd go gadding about the country dressed like a man when you are so pretty.”

Caroline knew that Dolly's comments were meant kindly—she was a woman who spoke her mind, and Caroline liked that about her.

There was another knock on the door, and Dolly
went to admit the maid. “This is Trudy,” she said, nodding at the girl, who carried a tray of food. “If you need anything, just ask her.”

Caroline nodded at the tall, willowy girl with a shy smile. “Thank you, Trudy.”

“You should eat a nice breakfast,” Dolly told her. “Especially since you missed supper last night.”

Dolly was so energetic, she was like a whirlwind sucking up all the air in the room. She instructed Trudy to put the tray on the small table near the window, then walked her to the door, instructing her to bring up the tub and bathwater in an hour.

“Dolly,” Caroline asked, “where is Mr. Renault?”

“Why, he's gone with Nate to make sure the private railroad car is ready for your trip home.”

“Your husband has a private railroad car?”

“No, indeed, not Nate. The private car belongs to Wade. You didn't know that's how you'll be traveling, did you?”

Caroline dropped her head. “No, I didn't.”

“Men! They think they can take care of everything and not bother ‘the little woman' with details.” She motioned for Caroline to sit at the table. “My Nate is the same way. Thinks he's doing me a favor by keeping everything from me.”

Caroline agreed with a nod. She wasn't always clear on what Dolly was talking about. “I don't really know that much about Mr. Renault.”

Dolly looked puzzled for a moment, and then her face eased into a grin. “I can tell you a few things about him where you are concerned. He's never brought a woman to our house before. He's always been a loner, never allowing anyone to get very close
to him except a few friends and business associates. Of course, there's Jonathan, but I'd bet the boy doesn't know Wade much better than we do.”

“Wade has never mentioned anyone named Jonathan to me.”

“Now, there you go—that just proves what I was talking about. Jonathan is a boy Wade found one night in a rainstorm. The kid was living on the streets of New Orleans and didn't have a home. I guess the boy's situation reminded Wade of his own childhood.”