The Moon and the Stars (18 page)

She nodded, but he knew she wasn't understanding his words, merely reacting to his tone of voice.

He closed his eyes for a moment, blaming himself for what she was experiencing. How she must have suffered, knowing he was taking her back to the man she was so terrified of, and whom she had fled halfway across the country to escape.

“I promise you this, and I have never broken a
promise: I will right any wrong I have done you, and I will make certain that no one will
ever
hurt you again.”

She moaned softly in response.

He touched his lips to her hand. “I will make it possible for you to return to your father and be safe, if that is what you want to do.” One thing he knew for sure was that there was no way in hell Brace Duncan was going to get his hands on her. He would deal with the man in his own fashion.

It was late the next night when Caroline's fever finally broke. She tossed her head and grabbed hold of the headboard, her body drenched with perspiration.

Wade knew he had to change her into something dry and put fresh sheets on the bed, or she would catch a chill.

He stood up and stretched his cramped muscles, then left her long enough to ask a porter to bring clean linens for the bed.

When he returned, her eyes were open, and she stared at him in confusion. “I have been ill?”

His heart quickened. She was going to be all right.

He felt joy!

Her golden hair hung limply about her face, but that did not detract from her beauty. “You have been ill,
oui
. You are much better now.” He touched her hand. “I am going to change you into a dry nightgown. Are you able to sit up with my help?”

She made an attempt to rise but fell back weakly against the pillows. She licked her dry lips. “I'm sorry. I seem to be a little shaky.”

He laid the dry sheets on the chair and opened the
trunk at the foot of the bed. He found the nightgown Dolly had packed for her. “Caroline, I am going to help you into this nightgown.”

She grasped the sheet to her. “You can't do that.”

“I have already seen more of you than you would be comfortable with. You have no choice but to accept my help.”

She knew he was right and nodded reluctantly, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He raised her to a sitting position and worked the damp petticoat up over her head.

She did have vague flashes of him helping her with the most intimate needs. “How long have you been taking care of me?”

“We left San Antonio four days ago. I doubt that you remember much of what has happened since then.”

“Only bits and pieces.”

He drew in a deep breath and averted his gaze when she was naked. He did not want to embarrass her more than was necessary. He quickly pulled her fresh nightgown over her head and worked it down all the way to her ankles.

He took her by surprise when he lifted her into his arms. “You can lie on the couch while I change the bed.”

She relaxed into the strength of his arms and allowed her head to fall back on his shoulder. He carefully laid her down, then brought her a pillow and a quilt.

“Thank you,” she managed to say without looking at him.

He bent down beside her. “How do you feel?”

“Much better, thank you for asking. And thank you for taking care of me while I was ill. I must have been very demanding of your time.”

“I had nothing better to do.” His beautiful mouth slid into a smile. “I do not profess to be a doctor, so when we reach Baton Rouge I will have one come aboard to examine you.”

She watched him move to the bedroom area. She breathed in deeply, and it felt good to be able to breath.

When he returned a short time later, she had fallen asleep. He touched her forehead and found it cool, and he could see that she was breathing much easier.

He moved to the window and watched a woman hurry from the train into the small Beaumont, Texas, depot. In only a few hours they would be in Louisiana—in two more days they would be home.

The train slowed and came to a stop, puffing out steam. They had reached Baton Rouge and would remain there long enough for one of the porters to bring a doctor aboard to examine Caroline.

When the short, stocky man arrived, he introduced himself. “I'm Dr. Goodman. I understand you have someone sick aboard.”

After Wade had told him about Caroline's symptoms, he escorted the doctor to the sleeping quarters. The doctor stayed with Caroline for quite a while, and Wade paced the floor of the outer compartment. He heard the doctor asking Caroline questions, and her weak responses.

It was almost an hour before the man emerged to find Wade waiting for him. Closing his black leather bag, the doctor said in a serious tone, “Your wife is
resting comfortably for the moment. She needs nourishment, but keep it light. Soup, I should think. She had a serious lung infection, from what I could tell. I asked her if she had been out in the rain and had gotten a chill.”

Wade remembered making her ride in the rain that first night he had taken her away from San Sebastian. He had pushed her beyond what she could endure that night. “Will she recover?”

“Mrs. Renault is a healthy young woman. I believe she's just gotten run down. She needs lots of rest. Keep her calm.”

Wade did not correct the doctor's misconception that Caroline was his wife. “Will it be all right to take her to my home in New Orleans?”

“I should think so. When you get there, I wouldn't keep her in bed if she feels like getting up. But she should not do anything strenuous for at least a week. Curtail her activities and make sure she doesn't get upset. I can tell you, she's been through a lot physically and mentally.”

“Thank you for coming. I will see that she gets the best of care.” They shook hands, and Wade escorted him to the door. “You can send me the bill. The porter will give you my address.”

“I know how to contact you, Mr. Renault,” Dr. Goodman said, pausing on the steps, “It's a pleasure to meet you and your wife.”

Wade nodded and watched the man walk away, soon to be enveloped by black soot bellowing from the engine.

He would be glad when they reached New Orleans. He knew that Caroline was weary of traveling.

Wade had to think of a way to make everything up to her. He had wronged her in so many ways. He had hurt her, accused her of killing the man she loved, and pushed her until she collapsed.

God help him—he had a lot to answer for.

Caroline's health improved with each passing day. At first, she could only sit up for an hour at the most, and then later for longer stretches at a time. The better she felt, the more bored she became. There was nothing to do but listen to the sound of the wheels rolling across the iron tracks, and the locomotive chugging along, from time to time letting off steam. She thought about getting out of bed and slid her feet to the floor, but the weaving motion of the train threw her backward, so she reconsidered.

She heard Wade's footsteps and scrambled beneath the covers, pulling them past her shoulders.

When he entered, he was carrying a tray of food. “Are you up to eating?”

She pushed the heaviness of her hair off her shoulders. “I am not very hungry.”

He pulled a chair up to the bed and gave her that look that indicated he meant to have his way. “Just
take one bite,” he cajoled, holding the spoon to her lips.

She clamped her lips tightly together, then said after a few moments, “I told you I don't want anything to eat. All I really want to do is to get out of this bed.”

He shook his head. “That you are not going to do. I am prepared to sit here all day, if that is what it takes to get you to eat something.”

“I don't—”

“Caroline, eating this soup is not open to debate. You need it so you can grow stronger. You said you wanted to get out of that bed—prove it.”

“What kind is it?”

“I am not sure.”

“I don't like chicken soup.”

He was getting irritated. “The porter brought it to me, and he did not mention what kind it was.” He raised a spoonful to his mouth, took a bit, and looked thoughtful. “It is potato. I think.”

She reluctantly took a small sip, liked the taste, and took the whole spoonful. “You have taken such good care of me. I am sure I must have been a great trial to you at times.”

She had no idea what a trial she had been to him. He offered her another spoonful. “I should have known you were trouble the moment I saw you.”

She laughed, falling back against the pillow. “I'm glad I've been trouble to you. I intend to go on being trouble until you let me go.”

He crammed the spoon into her mouth once more, and she almost choked. “There's only a little bit of soup left,” he wheedled.

She wanted to clamp her mouth shut, but she knew
it would do no good. “I will never eat potato soup again,” she said defiantly.

He offered her the last bite. “Caroline, you can be such a child sometimes. You will eat well because you need the nourishment.”

She fell silent. It wasn't the child in her that wanted to throw herself into his arms. It certainly wasn't the child in her that watched his mouth, wondering what it would feel like to press her lips to his. She watched that mouth softly curve into a smile. Her eyes quickly darted upward to collide with his golden gaze.

His voice was deep and his accent more pronounced. “There,” he said as she finally took the last bite. “You have eaten it all.”

“I am tired now. I want to sleep,” she grumbled.

He stood up and placed the empty soup bowl on a tray as if he had already dismissed her from his mind. “And so you shall.”

By the time they reached New Orleans, she was strong enough to dress herself. She moved to the outer room and waited for Wade to look up from his paperwork.

When he finally gave her his attention, he swept her with an inspecting gaze and nodded his approval. “You must have more suitable attire when you are settled in my house.”

She wondered at what point their relationship had changed. He was not the same man who had put handcuffs on her and forced her to accompany him out of San Sebastian. She was seeing a softer side of him, although she knew he was still as dangerous as ever. Perhaps now she could make him see reason
and persuade him that she was not the villainess he supposed her to be.

“Wade—” his name came easily to her lips. “I don't want you to buy me anything more.” She started to say something and paused. “I am already in your debt.” She paused again. “That is not exactly right, is it? I would not be in your debt if you hadn't forced me to be with you.”

He rose to his feet and ran his hand through his hair. “I will make this all up to you somehow.”

That was the last thing she had expected him to say. She was puzzled. “You owe me nothing. I will consider all debts paid if you will let me go.”

He noticed that her gown was too loose at the waist: She had lost weight, and it worried him. “You are not well enough to travel on your own. You will have to regain your health before you can go anywhere. There is no need to discuss your leaving at this time.”

Caroline heard the grating sound of the train disconnecting from the private car, and she swayed, keeping her balance by holding on to a chair. “I will be stronger, maybe in another week.” She wasn't sure if he still intended to take her to Brace. She watched his face as she said, “If you will lend me money so I can go home, I will repay every cent. And,” she added, hoping to sweeten the pot, “I will also give you the same amount of money Brace promised you.”

He glanced at the ceiling, anger sweeping through him. She could not wait to get away from him, and who could blame her? He thought of the doctor's warning not to upset her and softened his tone. “We
do not have to talk about that at this time.” He took her arm and led her toward the door. “I believe Louis has the carriage waiting for us. Shall we go?”

He helped her slowly down the steps. Even though he kept a supporting hand on her arm, she was almost out of breath before they had gone very far.

Without hesitation, he swept her into his arms and carried her right past a crowd of people, who looked shocked.

“Put me down,” she insisted. “Everyone is staring at us.”

He glanced down at her. “Let them stare. What do I care?”

She had learned to recognize that stubborn set to his chin and did not say another word.

He carried her to a waiting coach with four highstepping matched grays and deposited her upon the leather seat, then climbed in beside her. “Did you have to wait long, Louis?”

“Not at all. And welcome home, Monsieur Renault.” The short Frenchman who addressed Wade had long ago lost most of his hair; what was left was whisky-colored. He handed Wade a small satchel and then turned his attention to Caroline, giving her a courtly bow. “Madame Duncan, welcome to New Orleans.”

Wade was looking at one of the papers in the satchel and suddenly remembered his manners. “Caroline, this is Louis Dulong. He has worked for the family for longer than anyone can remember.”

“That is true, madame. I was with this young rascal's papa long before he came to live with us.”

Caroline was somewhat surprised by the familiarity the servant displayed toward Wade. It was proof that he was an old and valued retainer. “I am pleased to meet you, Louis.”

He tugged at his cap and removed it. “The pleasure is all mine, madame.” Then he turned to Wade. “Shall I get the baggage?”

“
Non
. Let us get Madame Duncan out of this heat. You can send someone for the trunks later.”

The agile little man swung onto the driver's seat and took up the reins. As they left the depot behind, a cool breeze stirred Caroline's hair. It felt good to be able to take a deep breath. She glanced at Wade, who was studying a document. The breeze lifted his hair and rippled it across his forehead. He turned his head and showed his profile, so she studied him in detail. Her heart beat like a wild thing when she watched him compress his mouth and turn his attention to her.