"Father's bitter. He never was before. His success, his supreme contentment with his life, had held him above such a common emotion. Father's bitterness also stems from another awakening Ross has forced upon him, the realization of the frailty of being human. It's a sobering realization indeed for a man who never even considered the thought.
"Ross succeeded in his revenge in another way, too, Charles. He doesn't realize how he's spoiled me for other men with that same supreme tenderness of which he's capable, how I suffer with the thought of the love that's going to waste inside him."
Devina's hands again stilled. Her voice was low, shaken. "Ross has so much love to give, Charles. I felt it rush through him, consume him, and it was beautiful. But it didn't last. It was eaten up by rancor, hate that flickered inside him every time he looked into my face and saw my father reflected there, every time he remembered my name. Ross needs someone who can make him forget revenge, put it aside forever, someone he can love without hating himself for loving her. That person can never be me, Charles."
Devina took a deep breath, determined not to discuss the matter any further. She knew she could not. She could not tell Charles how very intensely she wished she were riding with Ross right now, as Lai Hua was riding with Jake. She could not tell him that everything she had always considered important in her life fell flat and meaningless in the realization that Ross had ridden out of her life forever. She could not tell him that had Ross offered her the choice at that moment when he had mounted and prepared to ride off, she was uncertain what she would have done. But the emotion of that moment had passed, and reasoning was again strong in her mind. And with reasoning came the bitter truth that Ross had been beyond her reach even when she was in his arms.
"All right, it's done." Devina's smile was forced. "Only a little while longer and we'll be completely finished with all of this." Drawing back, Devina assessed Charles's pallor. "Do you think you can make it?"
Charles gave a short laugh. "Devina, if you think I'm going to let a little flesh wound get in the way of finishing this once and for all, you're not as smart as I think you are."
Pausing, Charles continued more softly, "Go in the other room and change. We're going to follow through with our plan. We're going to stroll back to your house after our 'pleasant dinner' and that 'lovely long walk' we took, and we're going to act utterly shocked when we hear that Ross has escaped. When tomorrow comes, everyone will be trying to figure out how Ross escaped and where he's headed. They'll soon find the two horses turned loose and grazing somewhere, but there'll be no sign of Ross, and they'll never find him."
Charles paused and tried another smile. "As I said, if you think I'm going to spoil everything now because of a little lost blood, you're vastly mistaken. Now go get dressed."
Devina smiled. "Charles, why could I never talk to Ross the way I can talk to you?"
"Because you love Ross, and love gets in the way."
The tears in Devina's eyes belied her annoyed response to his prompt reply. "Charles, you're too damned smart."
Turning she walked into the next room.
Charles watched as the front door of the Dale house closed behind Devina. Pausing only a moment longer, he descended the steps and headed home, his step lagging.
"Charles, you're too damned smart
…"
Charles gave a short, self-deprecating laugh. Yes, so smart that he had outsmarted himself.
He looked up at the sky, realizing that it was not yet midnight. The realization startled him. The day had been so long, so crammed full of events of great magnitude that it seemed like an eternity since he had stood at Devina's side in the courtroom and heard sentence pronounced on Ross.
Light- headedness assailed Charles, and his step faltered. He raised a hand to his forehead and paused to take a deep breath.
Damn, hold on! You're all right. The wound is only a crease, and the blood loss was not significant.
Charles felt the urge to laugh. Strange as it seemed, his debility seemed only to bring things into clearer perspective. His own stupidity, for instance.
He had seen the expression on Jake's face when he swept Lai Hua up onto his saddle, when he had declared his love for her. He supposed only a man similarly in love with a woman whom he had considered wrong for him could appreciate the full scope of Jake's declaration of love. And only a man similarly in love could appreciate what a damned fool Charles Carter had been.
Then there was the unhappiness that faced Ross and Devina, an unhappiness that could so easily be reversed if they could only manage to overcome the past. Wasn't there a lesson in that for him, also?
Charles winced at the pain that stabbed his shoulder. Firmly ignoring the new throbbing that ensued, he hurried forward.
He paused at the corner of Allen and Sixth and fixed his gaze on the small frame house ablaze with light. The escalated beating of his heart raised a film of perspiration on his brow. Damn, he was getting weaker, but this was no time to falter.
Stepping through the doorway of Blond Marie's well-attended establishment a moment later, Charles paused. His gaze swept the parlor and the two couples conversing there. Not seeing the face he sought, he raised his eyes to the staircase, toward the couple ascending, then toward the woman who stood at the railing above. He returned their greetings with an absentminded smile just as a step at his side caused him to turn to Blond Marie's startled expression.
"Dr. Carter,
bon
soir
. We have not seen you here for a very long time. How may we help you?"
"I would like to see Camille."
Marie's expression stiffened into familiar lines. "I am sorry, Camille is no longer available. She leaves for France tomorrow, you see. The Count has decided it is time for her to go home. She has outlived her usefulness here."
Charles shot a brief glance toward the staircase, deciding suddenly on a different tack. "Then I would like to see the Count."
Marie stiffened further. "That is impossible. He is otherwise engaged. He is working."
A hot flush of jealousy coming to life inside him, Charles abruptly brushed past Marie's stiff figure and headed for the office beside the staircase. Marie followed
protestingly
behind, but he did not stop until he was rapping at the door with a heavy hand.
"Monsieur, I tell you Le Comte must not be"
Marie's angry statement was interrupted by the abrupt opening of the door.
Pierre looked annoyed. "Marie, I told you I did not wish to be interrupted this evening."
"
J'en
suis
au regret,
monsieur. I could not stop him. He"
"Marie's right, monsieur." Restraining his reaction to the smaller man's anger, Charles strengthened himself against the wave of weakness assailing him. "It's essential that I speak to you now."
Le Comte's eyes narrowed, sweeping his face, and Charles had the feeling the man was holding a deep animosity in check. Realizing his own animosity was just as deep in return, Charles flashed a short, tight smile. "Monsieur, I would prefer to speak to you before I speak to Camille."
"Camille is asleep. She must not be disturbed. We leave early tomorrow for France."
Charles was fast losing his patience. "Must we discuss this in the hallway, monsieur?"
Le Comte hesitated a moment more before stepping back with obvious reluctance as Charles walked past him into the room. "You are all right, Dr. Carter?"
Charles turned with a frown. "I'm all right, just tired. It's been a long day."
"And it is a strange time for such a call, is it not?"
"Maybe." Charles frowned more darkly. "But you won't be here tomorrow, will you?"
Le Comte's tight gaze intensified. "No, I will not. Come, monsieur, I have much to accomplish in the next hour. What is the reason for your visit?"
This time it was Charles's turn to assess the count. He remembered the way Camille had laughed up into this man's stern face, the way she had turned those hard eyes soft with her smile. He felt a new jealousy soar to life within him. "What are your plans for Camille?"
"Monsieur, Camille is my employee."
Charles made a low scoffing sound that grated harshly on the silence of the room. "You have many employees, monsieur, but only one Camille."
"You are correct in saying that. Camille is special; she always has been."
"So that's why you're allowing others to believe she's leaving for France because she has 'outlived her usefulness here'?"
"Who said that?"
"Marie said"
"
Catin
!
" Le Comte snarled the concise invective. "That woman and her jealousy."
"So it isn't true?"
"No, of course not! Camille is going to France with me because it is her wish to return. She has told you that herself, has she not, monsieur?"
Charles flushed. "You still haven't answered my question."
"What is the reason for your interest, Dr. Carter? Camille has not worked here for the past month, and she is not available to you tonight."
Charles tensed further. "Answer my question, damn you! What are your plans for Camille when you reach France? Do you intend to keep her for yourself or will you take her to one of your houses there? Tell me!" He took a threatening step forward, but the Count held his ground. He raised a gray eyebrow, a small smile curving his thin lips.
"Dr. Carter, I do not normally respond to such inquiries into my business affairs or into my private life, but since you are an old friend of Camille's and since you appear to be interested in her welfare, I will make an exception. I will tell you that I am a happily married man. I have not made it a practice during my marriage to maintain mistresses, nor do I consort with my employees."
Charles would not be silenced. "But for Camille you would make an exception to that policy…"
Le Comte paused. His eyes narrowed. "I might consider that possibility."
A flush of rage colored Charles's face. "So you still intend to use Camille…"
"Unlike yourself, Dr. Carter?"
"Bastard, you" Charles was interrupted by a sharp knocking on the door and a frantic voice.
"Pierre! Charles!"
The door opened to reveal Camille's womanly figure. Blazing hair spilling over her shoulders, her lovely face concerned, she clutched a revealing lace robe over her sheer nightgown.
"Charles, Giselle told me you were here."
Le Comte reached out toward Camille, but Charles stepped in front of his outstretched hand. He saw Camille's startled expression, the glance she shot toward the Count and back to him. He laughed.
"No, I haven't lost my mind, Camille."
Taking her hand, he drew her closer, his eyes devouring her. How had he ever thought he could let her go? He attempted to inject a word of sanity into the rapidly deteriorating situation. "I came here tonight to talk to the Count. I wanted to know his plans for you. He's taking you back to France to work in one of his houses, Camille."
Camille raised a confused glance to Charles. "I know that, Charles. I have always known that. What have I said to mislead you into thinking otherwise?"
"It wasn't what you said. I saw the two of you together. I saw the way he looked at you, the way you looked at him."
"We are friends, Charles."
"He wants to be more than friends with you."
"Charles, my occupation suggests that kind of intimacy."
"Not anymore it doesn't."
"What are you saying?"
Neither of them noticed that Pierre had quietly walked out of the office and closed the door behind him.
Charles continued with a new heat. "Camille, I promised myself that if the Count wanted you to marry him, I would leave without seeing you."
"But Pierre has been married for many years, Charles."
"I know that now, and I also know I could never have left without seeing you. I must ask you to reconsider leaving Tombstone. I want you to stay here, with me."
"Charles…" Camille raised a trembling hand to her temple, pressed her fingertips against the light skin there where her pulse throbbed visibly. "Charles, we have said our good-byes. We have recognized that the feelings that flow between us"
"No, Camille, we have recognized nothing of the sort. I have been fool enough to allow circumstances to color my feelings toward you, circumstances that came about long before I ever met you. I've had some time to think, and I realize that had it not been for those circumstances, you would not be here in Tombstone, I would not have met you and loved you. I would have spent the rest of my life searching for the woman who would bring my heart alive as you've brought it alive. I would have searched long and hard for the woman whose spirit would touch me, warm me, as much as the sweet consolation of her body. I would have been as empty as I have been this past month, thinking that another man was about to take the step I should have taken, that another man was bringing you from this house to his own house, where he could keep you as his own for the rest of his life."