11th Hour Rose (15 page)

“Lilly!”

The urgent whisper was achingly familiar, and her heart floundered in her chest as she stumbled to a halt. “Davy? Is that you?”

“I can’t get this damn window open,” he muttered through the couple of inches he’d managed to raise.

“What are you doing in my tree?” she demanded, rushing to the window.

“I am wooing you.”

“Excuse me?” She shoved her shoulder against the window, inching it upward. “Is scaring the life out of me in the middle of the night supposed to be romantic?”

David reached out to grasp the inside of the window sash. “It is—whoa!” The maple branch he balanced upon swayed precariously. He slung his other elbow down along the wall. “A little help here?”

“Oh, my god, David, are you drunk?” Lilly grabbed hold of his broad shoulders, looping her arms beneath his biceps, and hauled him into the room before he tumbled to his death or, at the very least, incurred a broken leg.

“Perhaps a little.” He fell through the window, dragging Lilly along with him. They crashed to the floor with a
thud.

Both of them froze, looking to the door.

“You’re going to wake my father up,” Lilly hissed. Pinned beneath his hulking frame she shoved against his chest. “What are you doing here?”

“I love you, Lilly.” He climbed to his knees, reaching for her.

She ignored the hand he extended and rose to her feet. “Yes, well, I think we’ve established that, but why this?” She motioned from David to the window.

He stood, his towering frame suffusing every corner of the room. “Lilly, I cannot live without you.” He moved closer. “All I want is you before I turn into a miserable, bitter old man.”

“For heaven’s sake, Davy, you are not a miserable old man.” The words sounded a bit more pert than she intended.

“But I will be. Someday I will be another lonely drunk drowning in whiskey. I feel it happening even now.”

“Oh, Davy,” she whispered, hardly trusting her own voice. “You’re being a bit dramatic.”

“Be my wife,” he pressed.

She swallowed, desperate to hold her wits and took another step back. “Davy, this is all happening so quickly.” She pressed a hand to her brow, warding off another headache. “I cannot marry you. Just yesterday you—”

“Locked you in the jailhouse, yes, I know.” Davy sighed impatiently, closing the distance between them once and for all. He settled broad hands upon her hips and Lilly lacked the strength to pull away. “Lilly, I’ve come to the conclusion that I’ll have far more success keeping you out of trouble working with you than against you.”

“Keep me out of trouble? Davy, that—”

“Let me finish,” he ordered, cutting her off with an infectious grin. He leaned in to brush his lips to her forehead then dropped his lips seductively to her ear. A sensual shiver rushed through her. Slowly he slid to a knee. Gazing up at her he took both her hands in his. “I love everything about you,” his deep voice rumbled musically. “I love the way you infuriate me, and the way you always seem to have your nose everywhere it doesn’t belong.”

She opened her mouth to protest but snapped it back shut again.

“I love that you are
always
two steps ahead of me, and I love the way you keep me on my toes. You, as my wife, is all I need to fill a lifetime.” His beautiful blue eyes roamed over hers with total abandon. She’d never seen him this way before. So open and earnest. “I am going to ask this question one last time,” he drawled. “Lillian Hudson, will you do me the honor of being my bride?”

Truly touched Lilly’s head spun as his words swam round and round in her mind. She was fairly convinced the earth had switched places with the moon. Magic lived in this moment and the world quite simply fell away. “I don’t know. I want to say, yes, but...”

“Then say, yes. Lilly, I am yours.”

All her rational arguments seemed so far out of grasp it took every ounce of self-control not to cry
yes
at the top of her lungs and hurl herself into his arms. “Davy, I…” She shook her head, grasping for her wits. “I don’t know. We need to discuss this.”

Davy groaned. He stood abruptly, slinging his arms around her waist, lifting her clear off the floor. “You torment me.”

She squirmed against the intoxicating warmth of his arms, resisting the urge to melt right into him. “Put me down,” she whispered urgently.

“As you wish,” he replied, a mischievous smirk rolling across his artful lips. He carried her the short distance to the bed and laid her gently upon the coverlet, following her body down. The old frame creaked in friendly protest, and the mattress caved beneath their combined weight with eager invitation.

The broad warmth of his sturdy chest settled over her, and in light of her recent ordeal, Lilly welcomed the sheltering weight. Despite herself she relaxed beneath him, content to simply disappear in his embrace. Davy hardly had a simple cuddle in mind, however, and tilted her chin to capture her lips. Without any urging, Lilly parted her lips, sliding her tongue up to meet his, tasting the whiskey lingering on his mouth. The sweet friction quickly gained heat and turned to fire.

He dragged his lips down the soft flesh of her throat. “You are so beautiful.”

The husky murmur thrilled Lilly. She liquefied beneath him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and tipping her neck back to grant him better access. His big hands roamed greedily over her curves while the musk of his shaving soap inundated her senses, driving her to new sensual heights. She shifted restlessly against his hard body, silently asking for more. He responded instantly, taking her lips in a torrid exchange. Shifting up over her, his fingers slid to the neckline of her nightdress where a simple string held the bodice closed. Momentarily he toyed with the end of the string before pulling the bow apart, releasing the tie. Without hesitation he pealed back the aged cloth, closing a warm palm over her naked breast.

Lilly gasped with pleasure, arching into his touch. He traced the dusky area around her taut nipple with his thumb before moving down to lightly pull the tip into his mouth. Lilly drew a shuddering breath, burying her hands in the thick bed of his hair.
More
, she silently begged,
please more.
Her wanton body ached for his touch.

As though reading her mind his roughed palm dropped to her thigh slipping beneath the hem of her nightdress. His fingers inched upward, shooting carnal tremors over her skin. His palm burned into her flesh as it slid ever higher on her leg until his thumb grazed lightly over her most secret place.

Lilly bucked beneath him, the intimate touch reinstating a bit of reality. “Davy, please, wait. Th-this is too fast.”

Physically deflated, he remained on top of her for a second before rolling to the side.

Lilly sat quickly, holding the edges of her nightdress closed, pulse racing. “Forgive me,” she said hastily. “I Just… I need time to consider all this.”

Davy lay on his back, eyes closed, brow creased.

Her mind began to race. “And what of you?”

“What about me?” He opened his eyes, and sat.

“You’re planning to move west.”

His muscular thigh pressing the length of hers, and he shrugged as though the solution was obvious. “Come with me.”

Lilly chewed her lip uneasily, edging away from him. “Leave Charleston? My father? I don’t know that I could. I’ve lived here my entire life.”

Davy nodded slowly. “You think on it then. I’ll wait.” He reached out, trailing a finger along the angle of her jaw. He leaned in and kissed her ever so gently. “Goodbye, Lilly.” He stood, scooping his hat from the floor, and crossed to the window.

“Davy, no!” She leapt from the bed. “You’ll break your neck going down that tree. Use the front door.”

He shook his head. “Far less romantic, love. Besides, the guards outside will notice if I walk out the front door.” He swung a leg out the window. “Oh,” he said as an afterthought. “This is for you.” He dug into his pocket, withdrawing a small leather bound book. “It’s a book of sonnets.” He pressed the small volume into her hand. “Seeing as you like Shakespeare I thought you might enjoy it.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re giving me another present?”

He shrugged. “Nothing fancy, but I saw it the other day and thought of you.” Without another word he slid through the window and into the tree.

Lilly darted forward a step, watching as he swung down through the branches. She lost sight of him against the large tree trunk and then glimpsed him through the branches again hopping over the fence. He adjusted his hat and brushed off the front of his shirt and trousers.

“You there,” he barked, sauntering beneath the canopy toward one of the uniformed soldiers posted outside her home as a deterrent. “You call this a secure perimeter?”

Obviously confused, the soldier shuffled, glancing toward Davy and then back in the opposite direction.

“Look alive, Private!” Davy adopted his stern military persona. “Don’t you realize someone could climb that there tree and sneak into Miss Hudson’s home through a window?”

Lilly pursed her lips in amusement.

“I expect an armed guard to be in place right here every minute.”

The soldier snapped to attention. “Uh, yes, sir, Marshal Langston.” He quickly moved to take up position before the old tree.

Fingering the leather volume he’d given her, Lilly leaned against the window frame and smiled, watching Davy—her knight in shining armor—amble off into the night.

11
^th
Hour Rose

Thirteen

Davy arrived home and went straight to bed. Mentally and physically exhausted he didn’t even bother lighting a lamp. After the liberal amount of whiskey he’d imbibed with Jacob, he hoped to fall straight to sleep. Normally he didn’t indulge before bed. Strong spirits tended to give him nightmares. At this point, however, he doubted any nightmare could hold a candle to the current events of his life.

He flopped backward onto his bed, eyes already closed. At least things with Lilly were looking up. They’d parted tonight on good terms. Dare he hope lovers terms. As he drifted deeper into the haze of drowsiness a vision of he and Lilly snuggled together in a rustic cabin on the prairie slipped into his mind and seeded. He smiled. A pleasant notion indeed.

*              *              *

             
The vibrant red petals of the rose contrasted vividly with the lifeless gray tombstone. Davy knelt in the leaf littered grass before the dual grave marker, setting a bouquet before the stone.

Laura M. Langston

183
8-1860

Loving wife and daughter.

Cullen T. Langston

1860

Forever in God’s Keeping.

             
Familiar anguish welled in his breast as he gazed at the letters chiseled in the stone. He glanced away, but rather than see the rest of the cemetery he found himself sitting once more beside Laura’s deathbed, holding her still, chilled hand.

              He stared at his unmoving wife, disbelieving and hollow. She lay against the pillows, dark hair spilling over the white linen and down her shoulders, lying in stark relief against the pallor of her skin. No pink flushed her face, and her lips—usually so vivid and red—held a blue hue. The servants had cleaned her up, but all the same Davy could not banish the sight of all that blood from his mind. This day should have been the happiest of his life and yet despair ruled the day.

              Outside the bedroom door the hysterical screams of his mother-in-law, Vivian, wrenched his emotions. “He did this to her!” Vivian shrieked. “If not for David my little girl would still be here.”

              The bitter words rang true. Laura’s health had been fragile, and Davy had known it. Guilt took powerful hold of him. Guilt for her death… guilt for all the months he’d spent away… guilt that their baby had never taken a single breath…

              “I’m sorry,” Davy murmured, his throat clogged with emotion. He turned away from the bed and once again found himself kneeling before the tombstone.

              It seemed a lifetime had passed since he’d lost her. So much had occurred in her absence—war… invasion… He’d given up the very career that had kept them apart to fight for a cause her family strongly opposed. He oft wondered if she would have approved of his decisions. Would their marriage have survived the War of Northern Aggression?

              Davy looked down and discovered he could see past the earth into Laura and Cullen’s coffin, except that it was not Laura’s face staring back at him at all, but Lilly Hudson’s.

              He fell backward into the grass, desperate to escape the horror.

              Just behind the gravestone Laura and Lilly hovered as ghostly apparitions side by side glaring at him with condemnation. “You did this, Davy,” they said in unison. “You did this.”

              Davy bolted from his bed drenched in a cold sweat. He dragged several ragged breaths into his lungs, grasping for his bearings.

“It was a dream,” he muttered aloud, sagging in relief. “Only a dream.” And yet so much ugly truth lived in that nightmare. The reality that he’d inadvertently killed his wife… it was a fact he’d never fully divested to Lilly—and what if Lilly befell the same fate?

Thoroughly shaken, Davy looked to the darkened window. No sense in attempting any further sleep. He rose from the mattress. He’d go to the office and review Marcus Brady’s files.

He lit a lamp and shuddered, unable to banish the miserable nightmare from his bones. He dressed quickly, wanting to escape the bedroom as quickly as possible.

Perhaps Lilly was right and he’d been too hasty proposing marriage. Gone was the sweet illusion of her curled against him in a secluded cabin in the west. He could never protect her there. Just last week he’d read of an Indian raid on one of the railroad towns. If any harm came to her…