Lai Hua attempted to swallow her guilt. Her love for Mr. Jake was still strong even though he was now beyond her. Her vow never to betray him would remain unbroken. He had told her of the hatred his friend felt for Harvey Dale, of the strong reasons behind that hatred, but she did not know if that hatred also encompassed Miss Devina. She hoped it did not. She would not be able to live if the price paid for her own unwitting part in the plan was Miss Devina's life.
Molly's broad face creased in a halfhearted smile. "
Leavin
' for tonight, Lai Hua?"
Lai Hua bobbed her head politely. "Yes, my duties are finished. I will return tomorrow."
"Maybe there'll be more for you to be
doin
' tomorrow if we hear from them kidnappers. Maybe Miss Devina will be
comin
' back."
Lai Hua averted her gaze. "Perhaps."
Within a few minutes, Lai Hua was outside and walking briskly toward the street. Her mind was racing with sad, confusing thoughts as she headed for the hard-packed trail she traveled each day. She was worried, and there was no one to share her fear.
Lai Hua's gaze touched on the bushes that lined the trail in the distance, and her heart began pounding as a red ribbon caught her eye. Her mind filled with memories of love, pictures of a light-skinned, boyish face, pale eyes brimming with unvoiced emotions, emotions that rang deep within her as well. She experienced again the pain of sadness at the loss of that love, the desolation of betrayal. She had betrayed and been betrayed because of a hopeless love that knew no future but despair.
Lai Hua reached out. Her fingers touched the bright ribbon, brushed its surface, and she snatched her hand back, ashamed. Summoning all the strength of will at her command, she turned slowly, firmly away. Her step, halting at first, gradually became faster and faster, until she was running in headlong flight from that which could not be.
Jake restlessly paced the floor of the miner's shack. He slowly opened the door to search the darkness for a sign of movement, a flickering light on the path, but there was none. He glanced up at the clear, heavily starred midnight sky, the brilliant half-moon glowing like a great amber lantern.
He had arrived at the cabin at twilight, hoping that Lai Hua would be waiting and had been disappointed to find the shack empty. His anxiety had deepened with each passing hour, but he had refused to believe that Lai Hua was not coming.
Realizing that it was too late, he continued to stare toward the trail, clinging to quickly diminishing hope. There was no doubt Lai Hua had seen the ribbon. He had waited in town, covering the only other route she might have taken back to Hop Town. He had been both relieved and disappointed when she had not appeared, knowing she had seen the ribbon he had left for her.
The lump in Jake's throat thickened, and he swallowed with difficulty as he sought to retain his hold on his emotions. Lai Hua had never refused him anything. He had not realized how very much he had counted on her limitless love. But now it seemed that her love was not so limitless after all.
A new thought suddenly occurred to Jake: His noble gesture, his attempt to meet with Lai Hua tonight so he might convince her that the guilt she harbored for Devina Dale's abduction was unfounded, had merely been an excuse to hold her in his arms again.
Well, it looked as if Lai Hua meant what she said. Why had he ever doubted it? She had always been straightforward and honest with him. It had been he who held back.
Jake stepped out of the cabin and closed the door. Myriad emotions assaulted him and he mounted his horse in silence and cast a final glance at the abandoned shack.
As he traveled along the dark and silent moonlit path, the last shred of hope within him died. He nudged his horse forward, keeping his eyes trained on the trail ahead for he knew with heartbreaking certainty that there was no use looking back.
A supreme sense of unreality assailed Devina as she opened her eyes to the dim light of early morning. She felt so strange. Her head was swimming. She found it difficult to concentrate. She was warm, uncomfortable. A pain, sharp and breathtaking, stabbed her leg and she gasped.
"Devina, what's the matter?"
She turned toward the low-voiced question to find Ross leaning over the bunk. She gazed into his face, attempting to sort out her confusion. He looked different somehow. She inhaled sharply as the pain surged anew. "My leg… it hurts."
Ross raised the blanket to uncover the leg. Devina's ankle was swollen and discolored.
Memory returned: her desperate flight into the brush, Ross's warning shout, the stinging pain.
Devina closed her eyes as debilitating weakness assailed her. She felt the touch of a callused hand against her forehead.
"Devina, do you feel sick?"
She forced her eyes open and attempted to ignore the persistent pounding in her leg, to concentrate on the concerned face above her. "Yes… no… I feel strange. My ankle is throbbing. It hurts."
"Do you remember what happened?"
Devina nodded. Her throat was parched. She was finding it increasingly difficult to speak. "Yes," she said. "A snake."
A strange flicker moved across Ross's face as his dark eyes trailed over her face. "You were very sick last night, but your fever's gone now. You'll probably have pain for a few days longer, but you'll be all right." Sliding his arm under her shoulders, he gently raised her head and held a cup to her lips. "Drink slowly."
Devina took a sip. The water was so good. She drank again, swallowing deeply.
"That's enough for now."
Pain shot up her leg, and Devina bit down on her lower lip and closed her eyes. She felt so weak.
"Devina…" Ross's hand cupped her chin, and she struggled to open her eyes. His face was very close to hers.
"The pain will fade soon. Don't be afraid, Devina. I'll be close by."
The gentleness in his voice, in his touch, was strangely debilitating. She wanted to consign herself to the strength of his hands, to feel them stroke her, console her.
Devina felt a deep surge of anger at her weakness. She would not fall victim to fear. Another pain stabbed her, and she expelled her breath in a rush of harsh words, "Go away. I… I don't want you to take care of me."
Devina felt Ross's responsive stiffening, but pain and the force of her inner struggle robbed her of her strength. She fought to concentrate on his face, but it was no good. His voice echoed in the distance as she drifted away.
"I'll be here, Devina."
Charles cast a quick glance toward the clock on his desk and attempted a smile as Miranda Randolph's quick eye followed the direction of his gaze.
"I have stayed too long again, Doctor. I'm sorry."
Charles patted the chapped, work-roughened hands that worked nervously in Miranda's lap. What was the matter with him? He had lost his concentration of late. Miranda had been talking for the past five minutes while thoughts of Camille and Devina had alternated in filling his mind. He had heard barely a word Miranda had spoken.
Conscience-stricken, he said sincerely, "Don't apologize, Miranda. Please go on with what you were saying."
"No, I must leave." Miranda drew herself to her feet. "You're a very kind man, Dr. Carter. I want you to know I don't believe any of the things that are being said about you, and I won't let anybody say anything about you in my presence, not ever."
Aware of the rumor that he had been a party to Devina's abduction, Charles was touched by the woman's concern. Taking her arm, he walked her to the door. "I appreciate your confidence in me, Miranda, but I don't want you to get involved in any controversy on my account. I'm certain the truth will come out when Devina Dale is freed. In the meantime, let me know how you're feeling and how things work out with your mother."
Miranda's eyes filled with tears. "I hope you won't let all this trouble force you to leave Tombstone. So many of us would miss you."
Appearing suddenly embarrassed by her words, she nodded a silent farewell and headed toward Allen Street. Weary in heart and mind, Charles watched Miranda's limping gait until she turned out of sight.
As he stood in the doorway, Charles released a tired breath. The warmth of the midmorning sun warmed his skin, but it did little to raise his spirits. No trace of Devina had yet been found, and because of his foolish jealousy, he could not even avail himself of Camille's understanding to lighten his burden of guilt.
He feared for Devina's safety at the hands of his unpredictable brother, and he missed Camille desperately…
Charles's thoughts came to a jarring halt as Camille came unexpectedly into view. His heart began a ragged pounding at the sight of her brilliant curls, the familiar sway of her unconsciously provocative walk. But she was not alone.
Jealousy flared at the sight of the Count walking briskly beside Camille, and the unhappiness within him expanded to a deadening ache. Why could he not get it through his head that she was the same woman she had always been, that it was he who had changed?
That thought giving him little consolation, Charles turned, determined to set his mind to solving a problem. He would find some way to bring Devina home. He would devote all his effort and all his thoughts to that end.
Resolved to force Camille from his mind, Charles walked back into his office and firmly closed the door behind him.
Attempting to ignore the steady ache in her leg, Devina stared through the doorway of the cabin into the yard. She shifted her position on the bunk, her eyes following the actions of the tall man working steadily in her direct line of vision.
Ross.
She was uncertain when the change had come about in her mind, when his image had ceased to vacillate between the face of her unnamed captor and the face of her friend, Charles, and when he had become the man named Ross to her. Perhaps the reason for the change was that she no longer confused this irritating, frightening, altogether mysterious man with his brother in any way. She had finally accepted the fact that despite their almost identical appearances, they were two distinctly different men who could not be less alike.
Charles was good-natured almost to a fault. He was not easily stirred to a temper. In the weeks she had known him, he had not once been provoked to anger. Not so this man Ross. Strong, heated emotions appeared always to simmer beneath the surface of his calm, waiting to be brought to a full boil by as little as a word or a glance. His dark eyes spat venom as unexpectedly and effectively as the reptile that had caused her present distress, and his sting was as sharp and painful.
But she had learned in the past few hours that she could not even depend on the bite of his words. The events since her awakening this morning were as good an example of his inconsistency as she could possibly entertain.
Devina winced as the throbbing in her leg began anew. She had finally admitted to her fear when she first opened her eyes. The pain, the weakness, the memory of her flight from Ross, which had resulted in her being bitten, had been overwhelming. She had reacted with anger, and the exchange between Ross and her had been harsh.
She had awakened again a short time ago to find Ross sitting on the side of the bunk. His honest concern had been evident as he touched her forehead, and she'd had neither the inclination nor the desire to withdraw from the consolation she had derived from his touch. He had been extraordinarily gentle as he slid his arm behind her back and supported her while he held a cup of cool water to her lips. The harsh words, the anger had disappeared, and her relief had been overwhelming.
He had later approached her bedside with a bowl of clear aromatic broth and he had fed her cautiously. He had not spoken a word, but his dark, direct gaze had conveyed only too clearly that his silence was meant to eliminate the trap they consistently fell into in their dealings with each other. In his gentle ministrations, there was no challenge, only concern. She had finally accepted the limitations her weakness forced upon her and had not protested the service. She had never tasted anything as good as the broth he offered her. Conscience had forced her to tell him so, and she had been rewarded with a smile that had unaccountably set her heart to pounding.
It was then she had realized that, for the first time, her mind had not automatically converted Ross to Charles. She presently wondered how she could possibly have entertained that confusion for a moment. Ross's slower, gradually broadening smile was so unlike Charles's quick, wide grin. Its rarity somehow made it more rewarding, and she had been inordinately pleased to have brought that smile to his lips.
The memory of that smile and the emotions it had stirred within her brought a frown to Devina's brow. She could not allow her weakened state and her temporary need to endow Ross with qualities he did not possess. She must remember to keep in mind who he was, why she was his captive, and the fact that her father's future and her own depended on him.
Distress, deep and profound, returned with the thought of her circumstances, and Devina closed her eyes as a flash of weakness returned. It would be far better if she put aside these disturbing thoughts temporarily and allowed herself to enjoy the temporary truce that reigned between her handsome, enigmatic captor and herself. When she was well she would be able to think more clearly. Until then, she needed to accept the fact that she was helpless and dependent on his goodwill and care.