He moved. His toes grabbed for purchase against a rough-edged stone, feeling mortar crumble beneath his maneuvering. But the constant sound of Madeline’s voice pulled him upward. The pressure in his head swelled, and pain pounded behind his eyes as he looked above into the soul-sustaining light. He heard the demon inside him yell,
Halt. Come back. You are the Weak One. I can defeat the woman, and I can defeat you.
“Maybe so,” Brazos panted. “Alone. But not together. You can’t beat Maddie and me when we’re working together.” He felt the kiss of sunshine on his fists, and then strong hands gripped him and pulled him up and out. His feet touched dry ground, and suddenly Madeline was in his arms, heedless of his soggy, dripping state, hugging him fiercely and raining sweet kisses across his chest, his neck, his face.
“Oh, darling,” she cried. “Thank you. Thank God you were there to save her.” She gazed up at him, her eyes swimming and shining with emotion. She pushed a wet lock of hair away from his forehead and said, “Oh, Brazos, I know how difficult it must have been for you to go down into that well.”
Brazos swallowed hard. Stepping back, he stared at Madeline—at the picture she made in a formfitting dress the color of the Texas sky. Her plaited hair fell in a golden rope over one shoulder while her teeth tugged uncertainly at lips the color of strawberries. She watched him with warm, glowing eyes, and he knew a bitter burning deep in his belly.
Shame
. God, he wanted to vomit, he was so ashamed.
So he left her. He sought the cover of the woods and the anonymity they offered, fleeing at a dead run.
BY THE time she had finished bathing Rose, Madeline was as wet as the child. Between wrestling with a girl who’d had enough of water that day, and the tears Madeline couldn’t seem to prevent from running down her cheeks, she was forced to change clothes before joining the search. Mason and some of the older boys had scoured the forest around St. Michael’s looking for Brazos before Sister Cecilia convinced them to allow her brother his privacy. She claimed he needed time alone and would return when he felt ready.
Madeline disagreed. No one but she had seen his pain; no one but she had seemed to affect it. Brazos needed her perhaps as never before.
After she offered a convincing argument, Mason suggested she check the bluff a half mile south of Rocky Point, because in the past the hill had proven to be a favorite spot of Brazos’s. While Mason saddled a horse for her, Lana filled a bag with bread, cheese, and a bottle of Mason’s elderberry wine. Sister Cecilia gathered a blanket and a change of clothing for her brother.
“Head west, toward town,” Mason directed, “until you come to Antelope Creek. Follow the creek south for a bit, and you’ll see the bluff. There’s a cropping of flat rock. That’s my best guess as to where he might be.”
Saddle leather creaked as Mason gave Madeline a hand in mounting the roan mare one of the orphans had named Bunny. “Are you certain you don’t want me to tag along, Madeline?” he asked. “I hate to say it, but I’m worried about you going after him alone. He looked downright dangerous when he came up out of that well.”
She shook her head. “He’s not dangerous, Mason, just in pain. I believe I can help him. I have before, you see.” With that, Madeline waved at Sister Cecilia and Lana and rode off.
Bunny traveled at a slow canter, no matter what Madeline did in an attempt to increase her pace. “You remind me of the horse I rode that time I robbed Lord Greeley’s carriage,” Madeline grumbled. That little fiasco had nearly landed her in jail, and she’d sworn never again to commit a theft while riding an inferior horse. Of course, she wasn’t planning to steal anything today.
The idea hit her like a slap in the face. Maybe there was something she could steal. Yanking back on the reins, she jerked Bunny to a stem. She nervously licked her lips and stared straight ahead, seeing nothing as she rolled the notion over in her head. Could she do it?
It would be her greatest challenge. It would require the use of all of her talents—those she’d spent years developing and those she’d only recently acquired. If she could pull off this heist, it would be one for the history books.
Dare she try? Doing so would put her at terrible risk. Failure would likely destroy her. Though she’d never say it aloud and she had yet to accept the idea as fact she suspected that she already harbored deep feelings for the man. Was she being a fool by even entertaining the idea? Did she stand any chance at all of success?
She remembered her words to Mason just a short time ago.
I believe I can help him. I have before
. It was true, she had given Brazos Sinclair something he’d desperately needed, and she believed she’d identified just what that something was.
Brazos needed someone to hold him, someone to offer him comfort when besieged by whatever demons haunted him. He needed the proverbial port in a storm. Madeline could offer him that port.
Oh, he’d resist. He’d give her that spiel about having tumbleweed in his blood, he’d tell her he’d never be able to provide her and Rose with the home they required. But Madeline knew Brazos well enough to know that if she could pull off this theft, the tumbleweed would blow right out of him. He’d quit running, and he’d want nothing more than to stay with her and Rose and build the home and family she dreamed of. Madeline leaned forward and absently patted Bunny’s neck. She pursed her lips and said, “I’ll do it.”
Madeline was a thief. A very good thief. It was that belief in herself that allowed her to gig Bunny’s sides and ride in pursuit of her prey. A smile tugged at her lips as she rode beneath a bower of live oak trees to the music of a robin’s song. It would be her greatest theft. Plus, she could redeem herself from her recent descent into stealing objects like potato mashers.
Forget the silver; she’d decided to go for the gold. Madeline planned to steal Brazos Sinclair’s heart.
Chapter 15
MADELINE FOUND BRAZOS LYING naked on a wide, flat rock. He rested on his stomach, sunning himself like one of the alligators she’d seen on the trip up Buffalo Bayou. Only Brazos Sinclair was no reptile.
True, he may act like one at times, and she had witnessed moments when the man had acted downright cold-blooded, but as she gazed at the bronzed expanse of sinew and muscle stretched out before her Madeline saw no sign at all of scales.
He was beautiful. An Adonis worthy of Michelangelo’s talents. Sunlight glistened off the band of silver around his arm, and as he cocked open one eye to pin her with a furious glare, Madeline corrected herself. He was an Adonis with a fearsome disposition.
After securing Bunny to a nearby pine and grabbing the bag containing her husband’s shirt and pants and the pouch of food, Madeline picked her way across the outcropping of rocks. Stepping over the pile of soggy clothing, she spread out the blanket and sat down beside him. She smoothed her skirt, then folded her hands in her lap and stared out over the tree-dotted landscape that extended to the western horizon.
Neither she nor Brazos spoke, and as often happens, that silence in itself became a speech. Eventually, she reached for the food bag and dug around in it for an apple. He opened his eye again at the crunching sound when she took a bite. Madeline knew he must be hungry; it was well past noon. Without a word, she found another apple and extended her hand with the shiny red offering.
He took it. Then, heedless of his nudity, he rolled over and sat up. Casually, he took a bite from the apple, swallowed, and said, “Well, Eve, come to tame the serpent?”
“I was thinking along the lines of an alligator,” she responded, trying desperately to keep her gaze away from his lap. She reached into the second bag, then tossed him the clothes his sister had provided.
“Beware. A gator’s bite will kill ya.” He held the apple with his teeth as he stood and pulled on his pants.
Madeline shrugged, wishing he would use the blue chambray shirt for more than a pillow as he assumed a prone position. It was hard enough to force her tongue to tell her story; she didn’t need to deal with fingers that itched to follow the line of hair trailing downward from his navel.
But tell her story she would. Otherwise, her scheme had not a prayer of succeeding. Madeline recognized that for Brazos’s heart to soften toward her, she must tell him why she’d kidnapped Rose. Then, if he reacted as she suspected he would, she could put the rest of her recently devised plan into motion. With the moment of disclosure upon her, Madeline smoothed her skirts and distractedly wondered how Catholics managed. Confession might be good for the soul, but it played hell on one’s digestive organs. Her stomach had that
mal de mer
feeling again. Drawing a deep breath, she forced herself to say, “I want to explain about Rose, Brazos.”
His hand trembled a fraction as he lowered the apple from his mouth. Flatly, he asked, “Is she dead?”
“No,” Madeline hastened to say. “She’s fine. You saved her, Brazos, I can’t tell you how much—”
“I don’t want to talk about it. Go on back, Madeline. Leave me alone.”
She nibbled at her lower lip before saying, “You called me Maddie earlier.” He all but snarled at her, and she quickly continued, “I want to tell you how Rose ended up with me. Why I took her from her home.”
His look was both cold and questioning.
Am I doing the right thing
? Madeline wondered. This was a risk, probably the biggest risk of her life. Yet, she stood to gain more than she’d ever dreamed possible, and besides, she wasn’t going to tell him everything.
Taking a deep breath, she began, “I was teaching at an English boarding school when I received a letter. I was instructed to go to a French estate, Château St. Germaine, where I would accept the position of companion to a woman named Celeste Desseau, who was expecting a child. The letter said that Madame Desseau was in position of certain secrets that would lead me to my family.”
Brazos lifted an eyebrow, but remained silent.
Gazing out at the rolling hills of forest and meadow below, Madeline continued, “I couldn’t resist. All my life, I’d dreamed of finding my family. I left England that very day.” A wistful note entered her voice. “I loved Château St. Germaine. Upon my first view of the house from my carriage, a sense of peace overcame me. It was almost as if it were
my
home I returned to.”
She turned to him, her gaze imploring, because this part he simply must understand. “Celeste Desseau greeted me as if I were an old and dear friend. We got along famously from the moment we met. She was so beautiful, so kind—” Madeline paused, and her lips trembled. “I showed her the letter, and she said she was sorry, that she knew nothing about any secrets.”
Brazos cleared his throat as though to speak, but she hurried on. “I asked Celeste who could have sent the letter. She said it must have been her mother Bernadette, because she’d been the one who had told Celeste to expect my arrival. She’d looked so sad when she added that her mother was privy to many secrets. I, of course, immediately wanted to speak to Bernadette, but Celeste said it wouldn’t be possible. Bad blood existed between Celeste’s husband, Julian, and her mother. Bernadette was forbidden to come to St. Germaine. I couldn’t leave Celeste; she needed me. It was less than two months before the child was due. Celeste promised that as soon as she had the baby, she’d take me to see her mother. Then she cautioned me not to mention it to Julian.”
Madeline scooped up a handful of pebbles from the ground and began tossing them down the hill as she spoke. “I honestly liked Julian. He was older than Celeste, but quite handsome. He seemed so devoted to her and concerned for her health.” Her gaze lifted to espy a hawk circling against a backdrop of brilliant blue sky and puffy white clouds. She envied him his freedom.
“Listen, Madeline,” Brazos began.
She continued, “I’d been there only a short time when I began to realize that Celeste was playing Julian false. She’d smile at him, but when he turned away, she’d shudder. Shortly before the birth of the baby, she confided in me that she planned to leave Julian as soon as the baby was born. The visit she’d planned to her mother would be permanent. She and I both believed we’d learn the secrets I’d been promised from Bernadette.”
Brazos tugged a handkerchief from his pants pocket and offered it to her. Madeline smiled her thanks and dabbed at watery eyes. “The birth was difficult, and Celeste did not recover. She suffered childbed fever and grew weaker every day. Julian was frantic. He sent for physicians from Paris, but…” Madeline shrugged. “She was dying, and she knew it. I half believe in my heart that she wanted to die. A part of her still loved Julian, and she couldn’t live with the truth about him.”
Madeline grew silent, pausing to gather her strength for the telling of the rest of the tale.
Brazos wanted to shake her and tell her to get on with her story, but instead, he took her hand in his and gave it a comforting squeeze. Though his stomach still churned as a result of his own ordeal, he forgot all about his troubles in the face of Madeline’s obvious distress. And the knowledge that
finally
he was going to learn why she’d kidnapped Rose.
Watching the myriad emotions flicker across her face—anguish and condemnation paramount among them—Brazos realized for the first time the weight of the burden she carried. All of a sudden, he lost interest in hearing the details of her story. He damn near told her to keep her mouth shut.
Madeline smiled a bittersweet smile as she said, “Upon learning that Celeste expected a child, her mother Bernadette, confessed a vile truth. Years earlier Bernadette had also been married to Julian Desseau.”
“What?” Brazos exclaimed.
Madeline nodded. “They’d been married two years when he accused her of betraying her marriage vows with another man. It was a lie, but Bernadette could not convince him otherwise. He sent Bernadette away and told all of France that his wife had accidentally drowned. She had no choice but to cooperate. He’d threatened her with horrible consequences should she resist or interfere with his scheme, so Bernadette assumed a false identity and eventually married an Italian count.”