Authors: Jill Marie Landis
“Noah, please. Let’s go,” Olivia whispered.
She was shaking so violently that he feared she wouldn’t be able to keep her feet.
“Does he know about you?” Darcy asked her, ignoring Noah for the moment. “Does he know about us?”
“I know
all
about her and what you did to her, Lankanal. None of that matters to me.”
“I see my name and reputation proceeds me, too,” Darcy smiled. “Hounds are used to scraps. They’ll welcome another man’s leavings. Now me, I’m particular.” He focused on Olivia. “Remember what I told you, Olivia. You
will
see me again.” Then he looked at Noah long and hard before he turned back to her again. “It’s just a matter of time.”
Darcy marveled at his own strength when he turned and walked away, for there was a deep darkness clouding his mind. When Telford Betts rushed up to join him, he still could not concentrate on anything but Olivia.
Even dressed like a pauper, she was more beautiful than any woman he had ever known. He could not remember feeling this way before; certainly he had never expected such a jolt when he saw her again. He shook his head, trying to fathom what had come over him.
Threatening LeCroix’s life had not been enough to persuade her to come along with him. After seeing the way she had looked at the man, he knew why. Obviously, Olivia had somehow deluded herself into thinking that she was actually in love with the half-breed. The way she had stared at LeCroix, glowing and radiant despite her obvious fear, had been a kick in the gut. One thing was certain. There would be no having her as long as LeCroix was around.
Betts was practically yelling in his ear. Darcy stared down at his hands. He had never killed a man. The threats he had voiced had been for Olivia’s benefit, but after seeing the way she had gazed up at LeCroix, he could almost consider killing.
Betts put his hand on Darcy’s sleeve and tugged hard. Darcy stopped walking. They were almost back to the hotel.
“
What
, man?” When he realized he was yelling, Darcy lowered his voice. “What in the hell do you want?”
“My money.” Betts’s voice was hushed but furtive. He flushed beet red, his neck oozing over a too-tight collar.
“Not until I have her.” Darcy tried to walk away. The land agent held onto his sleeve, wrinkling the expensive material. Darcy tried to uncurl the man’s fingers one by one.
“I held up my end of the bargain,” Betts whined.
“When I get her, you’ll get paid. For now, shut up, Betts.”
“But—”
Darcy turned on the man. “Shut up! I’m thinking.”
Betts backed down but matched his stride as they went through the door of the hotel.
If he couldn’t get to Olivia, Darcy decided he would go to her father. The very idea that she would choose to live here, in this backwoods mudhole, dressed in a plain dress with a mud-stained hem, wearing the moccasins of a savage instead of silk slippers, was beyond him. She could be living in grand style in New Orleans, where he would dress her like a queen, give her the finest of everything.
As they entered the hotel, the odor of boiled cabbage hit him. He had not seen very many people around who did not look as poor as church mice. Maybe Olivia’s return had been viewed by her family as nothing more than a bad penny turning up again. Perhaps she was just one more unwanted mouth to feed and her father would not hesitate to sell her. After all, he had given her away before. Darcy decided all he had to do was offer the man what a settler would consider a small fortune and he’d have Olivia again.
He nearly collided with Jewel McGuire, the proprietor of the hotel, a whiskey barrel of a man who reeked of liquor. He sidestepped the man, lost in thought, unable to forget the way Olivia had looked up at Noah LeCroix. He could not get the memory out of his mind.
He had to get to her father, right away, before she went whining to him for protection. How long would she and LeCroix be in town?
Walking upstairs, Darcy stopped so abruptly that Betts ran into him.
“Come with me,” he said, turning around, heading down again. “I want you to watch my back while I rent a horse at the livery.”
Betts’s upper lip was coated with sweat, his florid face nearly purple. “Where are you going?”
“To make a poor man an offer he can’t refuse.”
After she watched Darcy walk away, Olivia turned immediately to Noah and was amazed at his transformation. Gone was the caring, sensitive man who had given her sanctuary. She could feel his anger, so strong it almost made her recoil; she knew that if she did not act quickly, he was going to take it upon himself to see that Darcy never bothered her again. If that happened, she hated to think of the outcome.
She was cursed. She had to be. Since the attack on the river, trouble followed her everywhere. This time she had led it straight to Noah in the form of Darcy Lankanal. Her past and her present had just collided.
Dear God, she thought suddenly, what if Darcy had been watching the homestead? What if he knew the boys on sight? She became frantic to find them.
“I have to get home.” She voiced her immediate thought aloud. “We have to find the boys and Molly and head back.”
Noah grabbed her hand, forcing her to turn and look at him.
“Olivia, you have nothing to fear from him. Trust me.”
She shook her head. “You don’t know him. I don’t want you anywhere near him. Please, promise me you won’t do anything, Noah. Give me your word.”
He pulled her in the direction of the wharf. “Let’s find the boys.”
She tugged on his hand, trying to get him to listen. “Noah,
please
.” Her voice caught, broke. “Please say you’ll ignore Darcy. He’ll go away. I know he will.” She had to think of something fast; there had to be a way to keep everyone safe.
Noah continued to lead her along the waterfront. As silent as a prairie grave, he made no promises, and his silence scared her to death. She needed to put time and distance between him and Darcy, send him on his way back to Heron Pond. She could not have his death on her hands.
It took them precious time to find the boys, who had made their way back to the store and charmed penny candy out of Faye Matheson. By the time they tracked them down, Olivia was about to come out of her skin. Sensing her irritation, Molly rounded up the boys. Noah settled them both atop the gelding and told Molly to start walking them down the trail toward home.
With Noah as untalkative as a stone, conversation was out of the question. Olivia tried, but could not bring herself to make small talk either, not with the image of Darcy here in Shawneetown so clear in her mind.
When they reached the edge of the homestead property, he stopped and watched Molly lead the horse across the field to the cabin.
“Come with me to my campsite, Olivia.”
She could tell by his tone it was not a request—it was a demand.
“I really should get back and you should be on your way.”
“You really think I would leave you now?”
“Yes. Because I’m asking you to.”
“As if I were one of the boys?”
“Noah, don’t.”
“Come with me, Olivia. Now. We have to talk.”
She put her hands to her temples. Determination, fear, anger at Darcy, love for Noah—all of it was pulling her apart.
“There’s nothing more to say.”
“Yes, there is,” he told her. She knew by his tone that he was not going to budge until she heard him out.
Olivia sighed and looked across the field. The sun was going down behind the treeline. Deep blue shadows gathered against the trees. The cabin looked like a doll’s house from where they stood, with yellow-gold light framed in the windows and white smoke curling up out of the rock chimney. A picture of peace and serenity. Within, her father and Susanna were putting their lives back together.
What would happen to them when she told them about Darcy? Surely she must confess all before the night passed. He was too close, too much a threat to all of them now. She had to tell her father. She had to warn him that the wolf was almost at the door.
And Noah? Noah was waiting for her, and she knew by the look on his face that he was not about to be denied this time.
There had to be some way to persuade him to leave, some way to be certain that he was out of harm’s way for good. Even now, Darcy might be plotting to get her back through Noah.
She did not think he would act before morning. Darcy Lankanal did things at his own convenience. No one made him jump. She was convinced that he would toy with her awhile, let her stew and fret and worry about when he might appear. She truly doubted he would go so far as to ride out to the homestead.
No doubt he would have the best dinner money could buy him in Shawneetown and let her worry through a sleepless night.
The delay would give her time to find the courage to tell her father everything, as well as to convince Noah that she wanted him gone.
Olivia took a deep breath.
“All right, Noah. We’ll talk.”
Darcy looked into Payson Bond’s vulnerable blue eyes and hated him on sight. The man bore no resemblance to Olivia in temperament or features. Here, Darcy thought as he introduced himself to the slightly built farmer, is the man who sold his daughter to river scum. A man not worthy of having such a treasure. From the looks of the poorly appointed cabin, the ragamuffin little boys and his sad-eyed younger wife hovering in the background, Darcy figured that Payson Bond would be easily bought.
“I’m looking for Olivia,” he said.
“Come in, sir. Welcome.” Bond eyed him curiously, but ushered him in politely nonetheless. Obviously the man had no idea who or what he was to Olivia.
The two sticky-faced, dirty imps came running across the room. He gave them a cursory glance and no more.
“Would you like to sit down?” Payson shooed the boys away and pointed to the table and benches.
Darcy would rather have been boiled in oil than sit anywhere in the crowded, messy room. “Thanks, but I’ll stand.”
Something rustled in the loft. He glanced up, half expecting to see Olivia, but it was an auburn-haired young girl with sparkling blue eyes whose face appeared over the edge. She stared down at him curiously. He dismissed her and concentrated on Bond again.
“Olivia’s not here?”
Payson shook his head. “No. She’s off with Noah somewhere. They sent the boys on ahead.”
“You let her go off with a half-breed?”
The man immediately bristled. “I take offense to that remark, Mr. Lankanal. Noah LeCroix has been a true friend to this family and I trust him. Now perhaps you should state your business. What do you want with Olivia?”
LeCroix had obviously wormed his way into Bond’s favor, which only infuriated Darcy more, so much so that he wanted to strike out and hurt someone.
“I want Olivia back, is what I want. I invested quite a sum in her in New Orleans and she’s yet to pay me back in full.”
Bond blanched white, which surprised Darcy, given the circumstances by which Olivia came to him in the first place.
“Explain yourself, sir.” When Payson Bond recoiled and took a step back, Darcy smiled.
“After you sold her to Colonel Sullivan, he brought her to New Orleans and charged me an exorbitant sum for her. Since she was still a virgin, I gave in and paid the amount he demanded. In gold, I might add.”
Bond’s face drained of color. Darcy watched the farmer turn to the little boys, but it was a moment or two before he found his voice. “Go up to the loft, Little Pay. Take Freddie with you.”
“Aw, Daddy. Why can’t we stay?”
“Go!” Payson shouted.
Both boys moved quickly, the elder shepherding the younger up the ladder to the loft, where the girl was still staring down over the edge of the floor. In the farthest corner of the room, Bond’s wife was sitting on the bed, leaning back against the wall with her eyes closed. Darcy did not know if she was listening or not, nor did he care.
Once the two boys were out of sight, Bond lowered his voice. “I did no such thing as
sell
my daughter to those men. We were ambushed on the river. She was kidnapped. If you think I would sell her, for any price, you are mistaken.”
“She still owes me and she knows it. I’m taking her back with me so she can work off what I’ve invested in her.”
Payson Bond looked around the room, his eyes searching frantically, almost as if he thought help might jump out of any corner.
“Tell me where she is. I’ll be willing to make a deal with you,” Darcy said.
“I’d sooner deal with the devil.”
“You just might be, Mr. Bond,” Darcy laughed. “I’m sure all the bible-beating Baptists around here would think that he was already standing in front of you.” He smoothed his hand down the front of his vest, proud of the way the shining fabric caught the candlelight’s glow. “I’m not just a gambler, Bond. I run the best whorehouse and saloon in New Orleans.”
“Get out, Mr. Lankanal.”
“Tell me where she is and I’ll pay you enough to pack up and move back to wherever it is you came from. You can build a mansion, buy a few slaves to make your life easier. Hell, Bond, you can even buy some fancy clothes for your wife and some decent shoes for those two hellions of yours and still live like a king. What do you say?”
Payson never felt like more of a failure. He had always prided himself on being a man of logic and letters, a man who could recite poetry and the classics, draw pictures with words and make them sing with life. When his father-in-law wanted to give him land and slaves, he had refused outright. He did not believe in slavery, nor would he take anything he had not worked for.
He now knew for certain what had put the shadows in Olivia’s eyes and why she cried out in her sleep. The man who had put her through hell was standing in his home, and he had not even marshaled the strength to throw Lankanal out. He was so shaken that he couldn’t even recall where he had last seen his rifle.
Please, God
, he prayed,
don’t let Olivia come home yet
. He had no idea where she and Noah were, but anywhere was better than here. She should not ever have to face this scoundrel again. And Noah? Payson was certain that Noah would not deal kindly with any man who dared to slander Olivia’s name.
“What do you say, Bond?” Darcy Lankanal asked again. “I can hand over the money right now.”
Money, the root of all evil. The thing that had driven him out of Virginia to begin with. He heard Susanna stir behind him. Surely she knew he would not betray Olivia again, even if it meant his death.
“What about you, Mrs. Bond? Wouldn’t you like to live better than this?” Lankanal waved his hand, indicating the cabin.
“I
have
lived in far better surroundings, sir.” Susanna crossed the room, moving up beside Payson. He held his breath, wondering what to expect. Could Susanna be tempted? Would she ask him to give Olivia up to this man, just as she had begged him to give her up once before?
“Susanna, don’t,” Payson whispered.
She slipped her hand into his and at that moment Payson knew he had never loved her more.
“I stand with my husband, Mr. Lankanal. I want you to leave our home and take any notion that our Livvie owes you anything else along with you.”
“I don’t think you know who you are dealing with.” Darcy Lankanal leveled his gaze on Payson again.
Footsteps treaded softly in the loft overhead. There was a sound of wood against wood, then of metal against wood. Lankanal’s eyes followed the sounds. Payson looked up as well.
Molly was hanging over the edge of the loft with the old rifle aimed straight at the gambler’s heart.
“The Bonds been askin’ ye to leave, mister. Me, I’m not so polite, I’m afraid. Maybe poor Mr. Bond there can’t hit the side of a barn with this thing, but I’m one o’ the best shots in Gallatin County. I don’t know ye, but Mr. Bond here, he doesn’t like ye, so I’ve nothin’ to lose, ye see, by blowing yer head off yer body and if ye think I won’t, yer foolin’ yerself.”
If the situation had not been so dire, Payson might have laughed. Instead, he watched the gambler weigh her threat. Finally, the man smiled at Payson, his eyes cold as his expression turned to ice. In that instant, Payson had a terrible glimpse into what the last year must have been like for Olivia.
“I’ll be back for her, Bond. You can count on that. But I won’t be making this good an offer again.”
Outside, darkness was gathering. When the door finally closed behind Darcy Lankanal, Payson sank down heavily onto one of the benches beside the table. Blindly, he reached for Susanna’s hand and pulled her down beside him. Then he buried his face in his arms and wept.
From the moment he had first seen Olivia on the street with Lankanal, Noah knew that he had to propose, even if she turned him down. It was time for him to feel, to become part of not just the natural world, but of the world of feelings and family. He would open himself up to love and loving. He had been isolated too long, numb too long.
When he had stood with Hunter on the dock on the Mississippi to say his good-byes, his friend had advised, “Ask her, Noah. All she can do is turn you down.”
If Olivia did turn him down, she might just as well rip out his heart and do a jig on it, but Noah had decided he had to ask.
The sunset was late in coming for it was not yet solstice. The days were long and warm, the fireflies thick in the forest. They walked in silence toward his camp, each lost in thought, side by side. He adjusted his long stride to her shorter one. Soon they reached his old campsite. The stone fire ring had not been disturbed, but he knew the Bond boys had been playing in his lean-to when he noticed a pile of sticks and an empty bird’s nest inside.
He dropped his pack and set down his rifle. Olivia was gazing off at the rays of light and color radiating from the horizon. She had hardly spoken on the walk from town, and the once or twice that he had gotten her to speak, she had been very distracted, but not as frightened as he thought she might have been after seeing Lankanal. He walked up behind her, tempted to reach for her, but he did not dare.
“Olivia …”
When she did not respond, he touched her on the shoulder. She started, whirled and stared at him in such a way that he knew that her thoughts had been on Lankanal again.
Noah took a deep breath.
“I want you, Olivia.”
Too fast, he thought. Too sudden. He wanted to call back the words at the first sign of sadness in her eyes and the regret. He was racing headlong toward disaster but could not stop now that he had begun.
“I want to keep you safe. Come with me to Heron Pond. I won’t let him near you, ever.”
Hunter’s parting words slammed around in his head.
“Tell her you love her. For some damn reason, women need to hear it.”
His need for her was overwhelming. He was sure that no other man would have been foolish enough to have waited so long to have the woman he loved. He had tarried so long that her past had caught up with her. Slowly, so as not to frighten her, he reached out to touch her hair.
“I love you, Olivia. Marry me.” He spoke so softly that he doubted she even heard.
She reached out, touched his lips. “Don’t say that,” she whispered, “Please don’t.”
He grabbed her wrist, took her hand away from his mouth. He would make her hear, make her believe.
“I love you,” he said again and found it far easier this time.
A sob tore its way from her throat. He was shocked but relieved when she threw her arms around his neck and held him tight.
So simple
, he thought, amazed.
Thank you, Hunt
.
He wrapped his arms around her, felt her hands at his waist. He reached for her chin, tilted her face up, covered her mouth with his, afraid he was going to explode. He had to make her his, take her away with him, make her his wife. He would help her forget that Darcy Lankanal had ever existed.
She framed his face with her hands and held him while her tongue teased and explored, searching, tasting, delving. When her breasts flattened against him, he longed to move inside her, against her. He slid his hand up her body and cupped her breast, kneading it. Needing her.
They drew apart. Her breath was warm against his cheek. He knew if he did not bury himself inside her soon that he would go out of his mind.
Her hands were at his waist, frantically tugging his shirt out of his waistband, pushing it up until his midriff was bared. Her fingers scrabbled with the ties of his buckskin pants. She moaned in frustration, so he replaced her hands with his, quickly untying his pants. They fell around his ankles.
His shirt dropped around his hips when she let go of it and took him hot and hard into her hands. Noah buried his face in her hair, inhaling the rich scents of soap, fresh air, Olivia. He shuddered, strained to hold back and not spill his seed over her hands. He could barely breathe, let alone think.
“I love you, Olivia,” he whispered, marveling at how easily the words flowed now, as if he had opened the floodgates to his heart.
As if it were the most natural act in the world, she cupped him, gently massaged him until he wanted to scream, the pleasure-pain was so excruciating. He reached down and gathered the fabric of her dress in his hands and bunched it up to her waist. He cupped her buttocks, kneaded her until she threw her head back and moaned his name where it rose on the warm, still air and hovered there, echoing in his ears, matching the beat of his heart.
Olivia was his again, miraculously in his arms again, filling not only his hands, but his heart. She wound her arms tight around his neck. He grasped her thighs, lifted her, impaled himself in her in one sure, swift move.
A muffled cry escaped her. She pressed her mouth to the side of his neck and he thought he might have done her harm, until she began to move her hips, sliding along his shaft, pumping wildly with her arms and legs clasped so tight around him that they melded into one being under the stars.
Pressing her hips against him, he pinioned her there. She shuddered, sobbed out his name again and he felt her convulse around him as if her entire being demanded his own release.
He buried his face against her shoulder, overcome by the power of their wild joining, at one with her, just as he was with the water, sensing her every move, knowing that this was good and right and true and meant to be forever. He drove into her one final time. She cried out and came around him and he poured his seed, his heart, his soul into this woman that fate had led to his door.
Swaying a bit as if he were rocking her, Noah felt the night settle back into place. The first stars of the evening were glimmering against the deep purple sky. Fireflies winked against the black forest shadows closing in. Far off across the field, light shone in the cabin windows.
Olivia lifted her head and loosened her hold. He held her thighs and braced her against him, but he could tell she needed to move when her legs opened. As he withdrew, a deep sense of loss swept him and he tried to shake it off. There would be many nights once they were married, a lifetime of lovemaking, he reminded himself. There was no reason to feel so sad, so empty.