Authors: Susan Edwards
For after tonight, all that might come to an end. Tomorrow, Grady would be back with his people and his way of life. He wouldn’t need to spend so much time with her. He’d spend his evenings with his friends or in his den.
The den. She smiled to herself. It seemed fitting for a man’s room to be likened to that place where wolves and bears made their homes. Thinking of Renny’s wish to have her father invite her into his den to be with him, Star found herself wishing for the same thing. After spending nearly every evening with Grady, she knew she’d miss his easy conversations, his stories of army life and his insight. But she could not expect him to entertain her once they reached his home.
Star gave herself up to the beauty of the night. She reveled in the warmth of the colonel’s arm beneath her fingers.
Suddenly, a soft curse from Grady made her snap to attention. She glanced around, then groaned when she spotted Mrs. Smith making her way toward them, her features twisted with anger and determination. Star peered down quickly, thankful that, even without a couple of the petticoats, the gown still hid the fact that she wore no shoes. She smiled to herself. By wearing a shawl, she’d left some of the buttons of her dress undone, also making do without her corset.
“Sir.” Mrs. Smith stopped in front of them, forcing them to stop by planting herself solidly on the deck. She tipped her nose in the air, her voice rising. “I demand you take your daughter in hand!”
Grady positioned himself slightly in front of Star. “What seems to be the problem, Mrs. Smith?”
“
Rats,
sir! Pets indeed. I’ve never heard of such an outrage. I can’t imagine why you encourage such disgusting behavior. She nearly frightened me to death when one of them shot out from beneath her door and into the hallway. That child of yours probably set it loose on purpose.”
The woman eyed Star with a large dose of distaste. “She runs wild—like a savage—and I surely put the blame on this woman and her daughter’s bad influence. I have heard that this woman is your governess, but you really should hire someone with more experience. Someone who will teach that girl proper manners!”
Star narrowed her eyes. She’d had more than enough of this loud-mouthed, rude, obnoxious woman, and she was going to do something about it. The gleam in Grady’s eyes stopped her. What was he going to say?
“Mrs. Smith, may I suggest you worry about your own children’s lack of manners. The next time your son tries to accost a woman, he might not get off so easily. The newspapers might hear of it, ruining a certain young man’s name and respectability.”
Mrs. Smith paled, confirming that she knew of her son’s run-in with Grady and Zeke. “Be warned: I plan to make sure my acquaintances in St. Louis are aware of your son’s lack of respect for women.” Grady then named off several families that Star didn’t recognize but assumed were influential.
Star watched the woman back away, then turn and hurry off.
Grady folded his arms across his chest. “She won’t bother us again.” He looked smug. “Are you ready to turn in? Tomorrow will be a big day.”
“I—”
The sound of a loud blast coming from another steamer leaving St. Louis, pulling alongside them as it turned to head south, cut her off. She waited for it to pass before continuing. The boat was old and decrepit, and a lot smaller than the one they were on. It was another cargo boat. The white paint had faded to gray and in the growing dusk, it reminded her of a shadow passing through the night.
Staring at the boat, a sudden chill swept through her, tugging at her mind and holding her in its cold, clammy grip. Her vision went black, but no images formed. There was nothing. Then she felt despair—and it was endless. There was also biting cold, and death.
From the foggy recesses of her mind, she heard Grady calling her name. At last, the gray steamer had passed them, and Star’s sight returned. Consciousness returned with a suddenness that left her trembling. Grady wrapped his arm around her, and she sagged against him, grateful for the support and warmth.
“What’s wrong?”
Star tucked her arms between her body and his and closed her eyes. A trickle of tears escaped. “Death,” she whispered, frightened by the intensity of the vision. Since boarding the
Annabella,
she hadn’t had a single vision and had hoped they were truly gone. She shook, trying to shut out the cold, desolate feelings she’d just encountered. It wasn’t just death. It had been more—much more.
“Where?” Grady held her tightly.
Star couldn’t bear to look upon it again. “On that steamboat.”
“You had a vision?”
“I felt…something. Something terrible.” She didn’t mention that everything had gone black for a moment.
Grady stroked her hair, his lips touching her forehead. “Bodies of the deceased are oftentimes transported back to relatives for burial. You’re so sensitive, that’s surely what you felt. Let me take you to your cabin.”
Star didn’t want to go below. She couldn’t face the confines of her small room, especially now. She longed to believe Grady’s explanation, but… “No. I can’t. Not yet. I…”
Grady stroked her hair. Star pressed her cheek against his chest. The strong rhythm of his heart calmed her. When her trembling stopped, she lifted her head to thank him. Her mouth opened, but his gaze left her unable to speak. What had started off as a comforting embrace suddenly turned intimate. Her gaze devoured his; her breasts, pressed flat against the hard wall of his chest, tingled with awareness.
“Grady.” Her surroundings faded. Nothing mattered right then except the blanket of desire cocooning them from the rest of the world.
His head lowered. Her heart pounded, matching his. His lips, smooth, soft and warm, brushed over hers, like a whisper of wind caressing her skin. His tenderness ignited delicious swirls of desire within her.
Then he pulled back. For a long moment, they stared at one another. His eyes were dark with passion.
Her mind screamed that this was not wise, yet she would not listen. She gave herself to the moment. She slid her hands up the hard contours of his chest and stared at his mouth, her tongue slipping out to moisten lips gone suddenly dry.
As sweet as a summer breeze, Grady’s breath teased hers, tormented her until his lips parted hers in a soul-searing kiss that was at the same time as tender as a mother’s caress. Star quivered at the bold taste of his mouth, aching for more. Lifting herself up on tiptoe, she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, pulling herself harder against him in her need for more.
Grady’s control shattered when he felt her desperate need that matched his own. There was no hesitancy or shyness on her part, only need. A deep, burning desire flowing from her to him. His mouth possessed hers, tasted what she so sweetly offered. Her moan urged him to deepen the kiss. At once he plunged inside, unable to hold himself back. The hunger of a starving man consumed him, and nothing mattered except this kiss, this woman and the rising passion surrounding them.
Pain and pleasure burst through him simultaneously, causing his blood to pump furiously and fill the empty places deep in his soul. He needed her, as much as he needed air to breathe and food to eat. Her fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck and tugged. His own hands went up to the back of her head and her hair cascaded over them. His desire grew. The blood pumping through him gathered and pulsed in time to the massage of Star’s fingers in his hair.
Her tongue boldly entered his mouth. His hands stilled on either side of her face, silently begging her to continue her explorations, before sliding down her back to rest along the gentle curve of her spine.
She moaned again, collapsing into him and bestirring him from the drugging kiss. Breathing hard, he stole one final taste, then released her, breaking off the kiss. He stared down at her. Gone was the pain and fear that moments ago he had been determined to chase from her. Desire and need had replaced her haunted look.
Threading his fingers through the hair at the back of her neck, Grady bent his head nearer. He hadn’t meant to kiss her just then, but something had exploded between them. He rested his forehead against hers. What had he done? He’d promised to protect her, to keep her safe. Only now did he realize that he might very well be her biggest danger. “I apologize, Star. My behavior was improper.”
He felt a tremor run through her, and she touched her own lips briefly before she clasped her hands in front of her. She pulled away.
“It was as much my fault as yours. I needed you to touch me. I wanted it.” She was giving him an excuse, and while her eyes begged him to accept it, to believe it, he couldn’t use her state of mind to justify his own lack of control or judgment. He’d wanted her. For weeks, he’d thought about nothing but kissing her. Her and no one else.
Loneliness hadn’t caused this. He’d been alone many years, and not once had he felt this driving need to be with or to touch someone. He hadn’t yearned for soft hands in his hair, or a gentle mouth moving beneath his. In nine years he hadn’t needed to kiss a woman like this, as if his life depended on it. And to feel all this now, this strongly, scared him. He’d loved once, and lost the woman of his heart.
He tried to pull forth the familiar sense of guilt that always came when he looked at an attractive woman; that sense of being unfaithful to his dead wife had always prevented him from pursuing another woman. Until now. This time, it did not come.
This time, there was only Star and, because of her, a deep, raging need for fulfillment. Being alone no longer appealed. He was hollow inside, a shell of the man he once was—and it was clear. He yearned to share life, love and laughter with this woman who made him feel complete. He wanted it all—and it was more than Star could give him.
He trailed the back of each hand down her cheeks. His hands fell to his side and he backed away. Could he love again? Was it possible after all these years, that he’d finally healed? He didn’t know.
One thing
was
clear though: before he went any further, he had to be sure he could survive the debilitating grief of loss. Right now, he wasn’t sure he could. Until he was, he had to keep his distance.
“I have to go below and make sure everything is ready for disembarking in the morning.” And like the coward his sister had once accused him of being, Grady ran.
“See that? I told you they liked each other,” Renny gloated from her hiding place on deck.
Tucked into the small cubby beside her, Morning Moon whispered, “But your father left. I don’t think they liked kissing each other.”
Renny wiggled. “But they have to like it. If my father falls in love with your mother, they’ll get married. Then you’ll be my sister for real. And your mother would be my mother.”
Morning Moon tilted her head, whispering, “And your father would be my father.”
Renny grimaced. “Yeah, I guess he would. Too bad for you.”
“Your father is very nice, Renny.”
“Wait till he yells at
you.
Come on, we’d better get back to our room before your mom does.”
Creeping out, Renny stood, then nearly screamed in fright. Zac stepped out of the shadows to block her path, crossing his arms across his massive chest. “Lose somethin’, Miss Renny?”
With her heart thudding in her chest and her blood pounding in her ears, Renny glanced around frantically. She’d forgotten about her father’s friends wandering around. If Zac told her father she’d left the cabin—disobeying again—he’d probably yell at her and ban her from the horses again. “Oh. Uh, Zac, we were just going to bed. Morn—ah, Matilda was just worried about her mother being up here all alone.”
Beside her, Morning Moon looked puzzled. “That’s not—” She broke off with a squeal of pain as Renny stepped on her toes.
“Well, now, Miss Renny, it looks like she’s fine.”
“Yep, Star is fine. We’re fine. You’re fine. So Matilda and I’ll just head back to bed.” She backed away. As one, the two girls turned and ran for their cabin.
Renny wasn’t sure, but she thought Zac’s soft laughter followed.
According to Grady, St. Louis merchants controlled the Missouri River trade in the mid-Mississippi valley. Steamboats crowded the harbor, some docked, coming in or heading out. Black smoke from countless smokestacks left a gray haze over the city. Rows of warehouses and wholesale establishments lined the streets near the busy levee, while hotels and shops thrived in the retail business district. In the concentrated industry sections, factory chimneys proudly spewed smoke, signaling employment and prosperity. Beyond stretched solidly built neighborhoods.
The pulse and power of the city thrilled Star as much as it frightened her. To her inexperienced eye, the whole area seemed a mass of confusion. Aside from steamboats docking and others waiting, there were hundreds of drays, wagons and carriages rushing along at all speeds. She turned in a slow circle. As she struggled to take it all in, her breathing quickened. From the busy harbor with boats coming and going to the wharf teaming with activity, she could only stare in stunned disbelief. She wiped her forehead with her sleeve, forgetting about the white handkerchief in her reticule. The hot, muggy weather that had followed them down the Missouri warned of summer’s approach.
But the heat didn’t seem to bother those around her. Men of all colors, sizes and shapes strode from ship to wharf, unloading or loading cargo, their bodies gleaming with sweat. Around them, finely dressed passengers came and went, some pushing and shoving while others strolled lazily about, as if they had all the time in the world. Many spoke languages she didn’t understand and wore clothes illustrating the diverse cultures and religions Captain Billaud had spoken of during their evening meals.
Star studied the women. Some wore fine gowns such as her own, yet others, such as the group of women she saw huddled between two nearby buildings, were clothed in dirty rags. Her gaze sought out the men, then. They were garbed in hats, coats and pristine shirts. The gentlemen carried walking sticks and contrasted drastically with the workers. She could tell them apart, for the latter dressed in baggy trousers, ripped shirts and shoes with flapping soles.
The rich and the poor. The concept confused her, though this was obviously what Grady had talked about when discussing the pursuit of wealth. It was wholly strange to her, as her people all dressed the same. If her family had more furs or hides or food than they needed, they shared with those who did not. No one went without food or decent clothing. Once more, she turned in a slow circle and took it all in: people, buildings, boats, horses, carriages.
Across a street made of rounded stone, people came and went from warehouse buildings the size of which Star couldn’t fathom. A boy ran past, laughing gleefully. Close behind, four others gave chase, their faces red with anger, their fists bunched and waving. A horse pulling a black carriage clattered past. Inside, a woman and man sat, staring blankly, oblivious to the commotion outside.
“Oh, my. Oh, my.” Star pressed a hand to her fluttering stomach and glanced down at her daughter. Morning Moon’s eyes were wide.
“What’s wrong, Star?” Renny asked, hopping from one foot to the other.
“I never imagined.” Her voice trembled.
Renny glanced around, puzzled. “Imagined what?”
Star held her hands out helplessly. “Everything. All this.”
Grady joined them, putting a reassuring arm around Star’s shoulders. “Remember, child, Star and Matilda have never seen any of this. Think how you felt when you first arrived in their village.”
Her bluish-gray eyes widened. “I was scared. It was so different.” She paused, then gave her father a meaningful look. “But Night Hunter and his family were nice to me, so I got used to it. Then Striking Thunder found me—and he gave me horses so I wouldn’t miss Emma so much.” She frowned, her eyes narrowing, as if she were trying to view it from their guests’ perspective. “I guess I’m just used to this. You’ll get used to it, won’t you, Star?”
Star laughed somewhat nervously. “It might take me a while.” Her gaze sought something familiar—green trees, grass, a patch of land not crowded, anything. Her eyes could find no such thing. “This is so…” Words failed her.
“Citylike,” Grady supplied, his lips twitching with humor.
Star could only nod.
“Are you scared, Matilda?” Renny took her friend’s hand.
Morning Moon’s eyes shone with the same sense of wonder, but there was an added gleam of excitement. She bounced from one foot to the other and giggled with an eight-year-old’s easy acceptance of change. “No. But I would not want to have to find my way alone to your house. When do we go? I want to see your bedroom of pink and white.”
Renny wrinkled her nose and eyed her father. “I hate pink and white. I want my room to be blue or green.”
“Let’s get home and settled first, child. Then well see about redecorating.” He turned to Morning Moon. “And as for your question, we’ll be ready as soon as Charles Manning arrives with a carriage. He’s what we call a lawyer. He has managed my property for me while I’ve been away.” He turned back to Renny.
Renny gave him a blank look. “Where are my horses?”
Grady turned his daughter to face the scouts. The three brothers were holding the reins to the horses they’d brought with them—both Renny’s and Grady’s. The little girl opened her mouth, but her father stopped her. “Come on. I’ll take you over there. You might as well make yourself useful and hold the reins so Zac and Zeb can take care of unloading the rest of our luggage.”
Star sat on one of the trunks, content to observe. To her left, a man carrying a large wooden crate on his shoulder brushed past. As he stubbed his toe on a loose stone, he swore, his curse filling the air as the crate crashed onto the ground. It broke open, and several items flew out and shattered into tiny fragments.
“You clumsy oaf!” a well-dressed gentleman swore as he salvaged what he could of his shipment and checked the rest. “Lucky for you, only two vases broke. Now get this into the warehouse. And be careful.” The man’s boots crunched on the pearl-and-blue bits of colored glass.
He tipped his hat to her. “Sorry, ma’am—” His voice broke off when he noted the color of her skin and the darkness of her eyes. His expression went from polite indifference to something much warmer—and most unwelcome. It was the look she’d encountered on board the
Annabella
with Bobby Smith. Star met the man’s pale blue eyes proudly, ignoring the chill that ran up her spine. At last, he stalked away, and she sighed with relief. She was determined not to let him ruin her new beginning.
Standing, she paced, careful to avoid the broken glass scattered on the ground. Glancing down, she saw a much larger piece wedged between two trunks. The shade of blue reminded her of the stranger’s eyes. Bending down, she picked up the palm-sized fragment, curious about a red design that was glazed onto the side.
Grady’s voice caught her attention and she turned. “Charles should be here soon. I wired him from St. Joe that we were arriving. I hope he had a chance to see to the opening and airing of my house.”
Star dropped the cool piece of pottery into her reticule, wondering why all of a sudden she felt chilled. Star smiled at Grady, her eyes tracking the activity around them. “I’m sure it will be fine—”
A sudden high-pitched scream rent the air.
Whipping around, her heart in her throat, Star spotted a woman fighting three rough-looking men across the street between two warehouses. As she watched, the woman was slammed against the building. The girl’s cries faded.
Without thinking, Star picked up her skirts and bolted across the street, dodging between two teams of horses.
“Star, wait!” Grady called. “Come back!”
But Star rushed forward without thinking. “Stop. Do not hit her again!” Her anger flowed through her, making her fearless. Positioning her body in front of the woman slumped against the brick building, she glared at the three men.
One of them—short, wiry and with a scar marring his face from the edge of his nose to his jaw—stepped close to her. He rubbed his hands together. “Well, what have we here? Looks like we’s in luck today, boys. Not one woman for the boss, but two.”
The other two took up positions on either side of Star, who crouched before the moaning girl. She palmed the knife she kept strapped to the inside of her calf. Ever since her encounter with Bobby, she’d made sure she carried it.
“Stay back!” she warned, moving into the defensive crouch her father and brother had taught her.
The short man moved forward, tossing his knife from one hand to the other. “Come ’ere and fight me, pretty baby.” With a smile, he put his knife away and held out his hands. “Look, no weapon. Just you and me. I like a woman with spirit.” The others jeered and urged him on. Star braced herself for his lunge.
Seeing the spot Star was in, Grady hurried over. “Touch her and you’re a dead man,” he warned coldly, drawing a revolver and holding it steady. “Move away.” His heart pounded, and blood roared in his ears. The other two ruffians still had their knives drawn. If they both lunged at Star, she wouldn’t be able to fend them off. Worse, he might accidentally hit Star if he tried to hit them.
The leader drew his knife again. “Looks like we have company, boys.” He motioned for the other two to flank him. “This don’t concern you,
sir.
” He spat at Grady’s feet, sneering at his uniform.
“Oh, but it does. That woman is in my employ and under my protection.”
“Yeah, but the blackie ain’t. She belongs to our boss. Tell yer
woman
to quit interferin’ lessen she gits herself hurt.”
Behind Star, the sobbing woman struggled to sit. Suddenly, the woman lifted her head and cried out, “
Non!
I am free. These men kidnapped me and my family. Please,
monsieur,
do not let them take me. They sold my husband and son and will sell me.” She whimpered, frightened. “I am a
free
woman,” she repeated, her French accent musical, despite her fear.
Grady lifted a brow. Her speech was not that of a field slave; it was educated, refined. He addressed the leader of the ruffians. “You kidnapped a free woman?”
“She ain’t free.” The scarred man took a step back, toward Star, but she shifted her position, her knife hand steady. The look of deadly intent in her eyes made them nearly black. He stopped. “Ya can’t believe a nigger. She’s a runaway.”
“You lie,” the woman said.
Grady frowned. If indeed the young woman had run away, he could not stop these men. His gut clenched at the thought of turning this frightened woman over to this group of villains. “Can you prove you are free? Do you have papers?”
The woman shook her head, then winced and put her hand to her temple. “
Non.
When we were taken, our papers were stolen from us.”
“Don’t ya believe her! She can’t prove nothin’.”
Grady kept an eye on the belligerent leader, who suddenly seemed very nervous, as if he had something to hide. “Who was your master?”
“
Monsieur
Gregoire. I was the nanny to his daughters until they married. He died two months ago, and we were given our freedom and money to start a new life. That too was stolen.” Her voice turned bitter.
The three men looked nervously at the gun in Grady’s hands. “Look, we have our job to do. We’ll just take her and go. We don’t want no trouble.”
A sudden voice sounded behind them. “On the contrary, gentlemen. If this young woman is telling the truth, there will be proof. I knew Mr. Gregoire. It should be easy enough to verify her story. All we have to do is obtain a copy of his will and talk with his children.” The voice paused, ominously. “And if she is indeed free, then there will certainly be trouble—for you.”
Grady heaved a sigh of relief at the voice. It was that of Charles Manning. Behind the lawyer, another man—some concerned citizen—had also stepped into the alley. A small pearl-handled pistol was in his hand. Feeling encouraged, Grady spun and smiled coldly at the scarred leader of the woman’s attackers. “Shall we let the law decide this?”
Outnumbered, and suddenly looking unsure of themselves, the three men backed down the alley, then turned tail and ran. When they were gone, Grady hurried to Star’s side. His hands shook as he pulled her up. “Are you all right?”
Star nodded. “I’m fine, but—”
Grady, still shaking from the danger she’d put herself in, exploded. “Are you crazy? You could have been hurt! What made you do such a foolish thing?”
At his words, Star narrowed her eyes. “You would have me turn my back on this poor woman? Did you not see what those men were doing?”
“You didn’t have to rush over here and put yourself in danger! Dammit, Star, this is the city.” He stopped, realizing that where she came from, violence was a part of everyday life. She was more adept at handling it than most. He dropped his hands. “You
scared
me.”
She rested her head on his arm. “For that, I am sorry. In the future, I shall try to warn you before I rush to someone’s rescue. Can we get a clean cloth? This poor woman is bleeding.”
Knowing this was not the time to impress upon Star the danger of the city, Grady handed her a clean handkerchief. Then, ascertaining that the woman’s wounds were not life-threatening, he rejoined Charles who was talking to the citizen who had appeared with the pistol.
“Name’s Todd Langley,” the man said, thrusting his hand forward.
Grady shook it. “Grady O’Brien.” He jerked his head toward Charles. “This is my attorney, Charles Manning. Thanks for the help.”
Todd and Charles shook hands. “My pleasure.” Todd swung his hands behind his back. “Bad business, this. It’s always awful to see ruffians beating on women, no matter what color. You folks just arrive?”
“Yes.” Grady nodded, then turned to Star. He wasn’t sure he liked this man. “Ready to go?”
She glanced over at him. “We can’t leave her here.”
Langley stepped forward. “Seeing as you’re new in town, I can take her to see Doctor Williams. He’s not far from here.”
“That’s kind of you,” Star began, “but I’d like for her to come home with us. She’ll need a place to stay.” Her gaze begged Grady to give his permission.