Destiny's Daughter (18 page)

While he held her, he felt her draw in great gulps of air to steady her nerves. His hands tightened around her, feeling the uneven rhythm of his own heartbeat matching hers.

"What made you come back here?" she asked against his throat.

He swallowed, and felt the first stirrings of a different kind of passion. Just minutes ago, he’d been so afraid for her that the fear had pumped through his veins, giving him a strength he’d never known he possessed. He’d been driven by fury, terror, desperation. He would have gladly killed to save her. And now, feeling her safe and warm in his arms, he felt a need to keep her here, warm and safe forever.

He didn’t want to talk. He just wanted to hold her and feel both their heartbeats return to normal. He wanted to kiss her. God, how he wanted to taste her lips. And he wanted to sweep her into his arms and carry her away somewhere. Somewhere private. Somewhere safe. And never let her leave his sight again.

"Chase?"

He expelled a long shaky breath. "I was angry. I saw you being fondled by Nate Blackwell, and I wanted to—warn you to be more discreet."

He wondered if he sounded convincing to her. It was a lame excuse. The words were hollow in his own ears.

She lifted her face and he saw the beginnings of a smile through the tears that stained her cheeks. Could it be that Chase Masters was jealous? "You came to warn me?"

Damn her. She was laughing at him. His lips compressed into a tight, angry line. "I don’t think you ought to be flaunting yourself like that unless you want all your clients to expect the same treatment."

She tried to bite back her smile, but didn’t quite succeed. He really was jealous. Jealous and angry. "And you were coming back here to tell me that?"

He nodded, feeling an unreasonable fury at her reaction. "It isn’t funny. Look what just happened here."

Her smile fled. "Are you saying I invited this? Are you suggesting that I somehow caused this?" She pushed from his arms. Her savior had just turned into an arrogant monster.

Grabbing the torn remnants of her gown, she held them in front of her, striving for some dignity.

"You think it’s just a coincidence that a man attacked you tonight?"

"I won’t discuss this further with you while you’re in this temper. I’d like your coat, please."

"What?" He stared at her a moment without comprehending. Then, he nodded. "Of course." Unbuttoning his dark jacket, he wrapped it around her, offering her a measure of modesty.

"Where was your gun?" Chase asked suddenly.

She lowered her gaze, ashamed that she could have forgotten something so important to her safety. "In my pocket."

"And you never thought to use it?" His voice hardened in renewed anger. He was still shaking from the thought of what almost happened to her.

"I’m not used to thinking about shooting someone. I just never had the chance. And I’m not sure I could have shot him if I’d had the chance."

"Fool." He swore savagely. "I bought that for your protection. And you didn’t even have the sense to use it."

For both of them, their emotions were too close to the surface to control. They resorted to the only thing they knew—anger.

She struggled to get her arms into the sleeves, looking even smaller and younger wrapped in his oversized coat. Holding the coat closed with one hand, she extended her other. "Thank you, Chase, for saving my—virtue tonight. And probably my life."

At any other time he would have smiled at the formal tone, but he was still too angry. "You’re very welcome, Miss Montgomery. Any time I can be of service."

"But I would appreciate it if you would refrain from offering any more advice. I think I know how I ought to behave without lessons from a man like you."

His anger was deepening. "A man like ..."

"My sweet Lord Almighty!" Hattie Lee stood in the doorway, staring at the two of them as if she’d just seen a ghost. "What happened to you, child?"

"A man attacked me. When Chase kicked in the door, my attacker escaped through that window. It was too dark to identify him."

Hattie Lee hurried forward, her face mirroring her shock. Staring around, she noted the desk drawers overturned, the wall cabinets standing open. "Did you move the cash box today?"

Annalisa nodded and pointed to a small table in the corner. "I put it in there."

"Thank the Lord you had the good sense to follow Chase’s advice."

Annalisa shot him a frigid look.

"And the ledgers?"

Annalisa gasped as Hattie Lee searched the desk drawers. "They’re gone."

Chase glanced at Annalisa’s face. It had gone as white as chalk.

"Save your comments for later. What she needs now is sleep, Hattie Lee. Maybe you ought to send for Dr. Lynch to bring her a sedative."

"I won’t have the two of you fussing over me like a child. I can manage to sleep without calling in the doctor again."

Without another glance at Chase, Annalisa walked from the room, holding herself stiffly erect, the sleeves of his jacket dangling far over her hands, the hem falling to below her knees. Even in that ridiculous outfit, Chase thought, she looked as lovely as any queen.

Annalisa had known sleep wouldn’t come. As she lay on her bed, she kept replaying the terrifying scene in her mind. The man’s hands. The knife. The cruelty of his laughter. His raspy voice.

Charles Montagnet. She sat up and stared through the darkness. The mere thought of his name brought fresh tremors of fear. Why had she not spoken of her suspicions? Maybe because she’d been too shocked by the events in her office. Or maybe she was afraid to put a name on her attacker. As long as she didn’t know who he was, she could pretend that it had been nothing more than a bad dream. But if she spoke his name aloud, it would then be an admission that it was all real, and that the threat was still hanging over her head.

She bounded from her bed and paced to the window. No, she reasoned. She hadn’t told Chase because she had no proof. It wouldn’t be fair to voice her suspicions until she knew without any doubt who meant to harm her. She wrapped her arms about herself and shivered. But in her heart, she was already certain her attacker had been the governor’s aide.

"Now, you little bitch, you’re going to pay. "
The words rang in her mind, and she felt again the force of his fury.

Her legs suddenly felt weak, as the gravity of the situation dawned on her. Charles Montagnet was a man who had real power. The power that came with wealth and position. He had the governor’s trust. If he chose, he could make her life very unpleasant. And if he chose, he could try again to seek his revenge on her. That was his motive for the attack, she realized. Revenge. She had foiled his attempt to blackmail her into a relationship with him. And in so doing, she had incurred the wrath of a bitter, vindictive man. But why did she have the feeling that Montagnet and the creature on the riverboat were somehow connected? Impossible. She dismissed the fear. Her imagination was getting twisted. She was being a foolish child.

Kneeling on the cold floor, she rested her arms on the windowsill and propped her chin on her hands. Moonlight silvered the ornate furniture below and the carefully cultivated plants of the rose garden. The perfume of a hundred roses wafted on the night breeze. But the beauty of that tranquil scene was lost on her. She looked up to watch the path of a shooting star and found herself childishly making a wish. With eyes squeezed tightly shut, she tried to blot out the image of the man in her office. When her eyes opened, she thought she saw a movement in the shadow of a tree in the garden. She strained against the darkness, trying to make out some shape, some form. But there was nothing. Had she imagined it? Would she be forever seeing a man’s image lurking in every shadow?

Leaping up, she closed and locked the window, then hurried across the room and tucked the little gun beneath her pillow. Crawling between the sheets she huddled in the bed with her back to the wall, boldly searching the night sky outside the window for a sign of the dawn that couldn’t come soon enough to suit her. Never again would she be able to take her safety for granted. Never again would she be able to walk a path without looking over her shoulder. Her attacker had stolen something precious this night—her sense of freedom.

*  *  *

Chase bit the end of a cigar and refused to give in to the urge to light it. With his back against the rough bark of the tree, he watched the window on the upper floor, seeing the shadow flitting back and forth.

He’d known it would be impossible for her to sleep tonight. Her nerves had been strung to the breaking point. And if she did doze, she would be plagued by nightmares.

Damn her obstinacy! Her pride wouldn’t allow her to send for the doctor. A sedative would have allowed her exhausted body to rest and would have kept her mind from dwelling on the terror. And so she paced, alone and afraid. And he was forced to stand here feeling helpless. A part of him longed to go to her and fold her in his arms and hold back, for at least one night, the demons of darkness. Another part of him argued logically that he’d done enough. It wasn’t his place to offer solace to a woman who didn’t want it, and who probably wouldn’t accept it even if she did. Damn stubborn female.

Seeing her figure at the window silhouetted in the moonlight, he shrank back into the shadows and watched as she lifted her face to the heavens. She had brushed her hair loose, and it drifted in soft waves below her shoulders. She was wearing something pale and shimmery, and he found himself remembering the body he had glimpsed in the dim light of her office. He saw her stare in his direction and then shrink back, out of sight. He cursed his clumsiness and moved deeper into the shadows.

He wasn’t certain that she’d believed his lie about sticking around only to complain about her actions with Nate Blackwell. The truth was, he had been stunned to see the two of them in that tender embrace. And Chase acknowledged to himself that he’d felt the first stirrings of an emotion he’d never known before—jealousy. It was an alien feeling, and one that left him furious. But the real reason he’d gone to her office was because he had seen Charles Montagnet walk in that direction when the others were leaving.

Charles Montagnet. If even half the rumors about him were true, he was worse than an animal. Chase was certain he’d been Annalisa’s attacker. But it would do no good to alarm her further. As long as she was unable to identify the man in her office, his accusation was useless. It wasn’t enough to think a man guilty. It was necessary to prove it. And prove it he would. He intended to use every connection he had, call in every favor owed him, to find out all he could about Charles Montagnet.

When he saw no further movement in the room, he hunched his shoulders and slumped against the tree trunk. The night air was cool, and he longed for his jacket. But it gave him a measure of comfort to know that it had warmed her body.

Drawing the clean handkerchief from his back pocket, he lifted it to his face and inhaled the delicate rose fragrance that still lingered. She’d returned it to him days ago, freshly laundered. And still it smelled of roses and Annalisa.

He listened carefully to the night sounds, to assure himself that no one else was lurking nearby. The pleasant chirp of crickets, the hum of insects, lulled him until his head bobbed, waking him with a start. Rubbing a hand over his eyes, he realized how weary he was. He had been up for nearly twenty-four hours. And he had to leave in a few hours for New York and points east.

Stepping carefully from the shadows, he began walking along the road back to the city. There was someone he needed to visit before he left New Orleans. Someone who could be trusted to keep an eye on Annalisa until he returned.

*  *  *

"This is Luther."

Annalisa was inspecting a case of champagne in the pantry when she heard Hattie Lee’s voice behind her. Looking up she saw a tall, handsome young man of about twenty-five. His skin was the color of nutmeg; his short, kinky hair and smiling eyes as black as a raven.

"Luther is the answer to our prayers," Hattie Lee went on as Annalisa shook his hand. "He’s good with horses, and he swears he can repair just about anything that breaks down around a house."

"Can you repair a broken carriage wheel?" Annalisa asked.

"Sure can." His eyes sparkled. "And I’m willing to work for room and board."

"Where will he sleep?" Annalisa turned to Hattie Lee.

"He can sleep in the loft above the barn. I’ll send one of the maids out with fresh towels and linens. He can take his meals in the kitchen."

Annalisa studied him. The strength in his powerful arms was evident beneath the faded shirt with sleeves rolled to the elbows. He seemed almost too good to be true. Her suspicions were instantly aroused.

"How did you happen to come here for a job?"

"Chase Masters suggested I come. Miss Hattie Lee told him you were looking for a handyman."

"Is that so?"

Hattie Lee nodded. "I mentioned it to Chase just the other day."

Annalisa seemed satisfied. "All right. Welcome, Luther. Let Hattie Lee know what tools you need."

"Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am," he said, bowing his way out of the kitchen.

As he crossed the porch, Annalisa watched him straighten and square his shoulders. He carried himself very tall and proud. He had an aura of strength and power. Not at all like some of the men she’d seen looking for odd jobs. She shook her head and went back to the pantry. She was going to have to stop being so suspicious.