Blood Blade Sisters Series (42 page)

Richard came over and introduced himself, quickly getting to work wrapping the arm that was, as Lucy had suspected, sprained.

Lucy kept up her conversation with Mr. Watley to help distract him from any discomfort he might be feeling.

“Why did you call your friend Fish, Mr. Watley?”

“Oh, well, because that’s what he looked like.”

Lucy grinned. “He looked like a fish? How so?”

“Oh, you’d never seen a man like him before, miss, I can promise you that. He’d probably frighten the wits out of a gentle thing like you. Used to fair scare them graybacks when he’d go runnin’ at them, all fierce and furious. You’ve never seen a thing like it.”

“Well, a fierce warrior doesn’t sound much like a fish to me,” Lucy said, helping Mr. Watley to stand once Richard had finished with his arm.

Mr. Watley chuckled again. “It was them lines he had on his face.”

Lucy stopped short. The blood rushed from her face, leaving it ice cold and frozen. She could see Mr. Watley looking at her with concern but couldn’t force a reassuring smile to save her life. Her head felt curiously light, as if it would float off at any second. But her heart pounded so hard it hurt, each beat a painful stab to her chest.

“He had lines on his face?” she heard herself ask, though she had no conscious thought to speak.

“Yes, miss. Here now, are you all right? Doctor!”

“Lines…marks…two T-shaped marks just here?” she asked, pointing to her cheekbones.

“That’s right, miss. How did you know?”

“And more lines…five lines, going from his lower lip to his chin?”

“Yes, miss. Always looked a bit like fish gills, I thought. And then with his name…Fish just fit.”

“His name? A fish name?”

“What is it?” Richard asked, having come at a run at Mr. Watley’s call. “Lucy, what’s wrong?”

Richard grasped her arm, bending over her, his eyes round with concern. She pushed him aside so she could see Mr. Watley again.

“A fish name?” she asked again, her voice sounding shrill and desperate even to her own ears.

“Yes, miss. Finn his name was. Well, that wasn’t his real name, just the short version. His real name was—”

“Finnegan,” Lucy whispered, black spots beginning to lick at the corners of her vision.

“Yes, miss. That’s it.” Mr. Watley was astounded. “Finnegan Taggart.”

Lucy barely registered the sight of Richard jumping forward to catch her before her vision went completely black and she was sucked into blessed nothingness.

Chapter Three

Lucy grabbed another petticoat and shoved it in her trunk. Brynne stood in the doorway, her year-old son James on her hip. Lucy determinedly kept from meeting Brynne’s eyes. She didn’t want to see her sister’s thin-lipped disapproval. Or the fear in her eyes that she was trying so hard not to show.

Her brother-in-law Richard came to stand behind his wife and son. He put a hand on Brynne’s shoulder. “You have nothing to worry about, Brynne.”

Brynne snorted. “I wouldn’t say ‘nothing.’ My head-cracked sister might just be the death of me yet.”

Richard chuckled and Lucy turned her head so her sister wouldn’t see her smile.

“It’s not funny, Richard! She’s going all alone. She might get hurt or get in trouble or—”

Richard laughed again, ignoring Brynne’s glare. “She’s a Richardson, Brynne. She rode the trails with you and robbed stagecoaches when she was barely old enough to sit a horse, for heaven’s sake. I’m more worried about the poor citizens of whatever city she’s going to tear apart to find that man.”

“Thank you, Richard,” Lucy said, rolling her eyes at him.

Brynne’s lip twitched, amusement breaking through the worry on her face. Richard took James from her and kissed her on the forehead. “We’ll just wait downstairs.”

Lucy gave her brother-in-law a grateful smile. He winked at her and then left, leaving her alone with Brynne.

Lucy turned to her sister. “Look. I know you worry about me. But I’m more than capable of taking care of myself. You and Cilla were in your teens when Mama and Papa died. But I was just a little girl. Hell, I grew up riding the trails with you, fighting off Frank and his goons to keep the ranch and the town afloat. I was able to shoot a tick off a dead dog’s back before I was old enough to put my hair up.”

Brynne sighed. “I know. You’re as tough as they come, no doubt about it. But that doesn’t mean I don’t worry about you. I don’t care how old you get or how strong and tough you are. You’re always going to be my baby sister. And I hate that you are going to do this alone. If you’d just wait…or let one of us go with you.”

“You have children to care for. You don’t need to be dragging them all over the South. And I’m not going to take Richard away from his patients, though I know he would willingly come if I asked. I will be fine on my own. In fact, I prefer to go alone. If I need you, you’re just a telegram away.”

“I know. It’s just…”

Lucy closed the lid of the trunk and leaned on it for a moment, closing her eyes while she concentrated on reining in the overwhelming panic that had been gnawing at her since Mr. Watley’s revelation. She had never been so excited, or so terrified, in her life. There were so many what-ifs running rampant through her mind that her temples pounded with the force of them.

What if Mr. Watley had been mistaken? What if she couldn’t find him? The thought of what would happen and how she’d feel, if the hope building in her chest was crushed once again was staggering. She’d barely survived losing him the first time. She didn’t think she could do it again.

And that was the crux of the dilemma, wasn’t it? What if she did find him and he didn’t want her? Didn’t love her anymore, or worse, didn’t even remember her? Wouldn’t it be better to leave things as they were? At least now she had her good memories to hold onto. If she looked for him, things could end so much worse.

Then again, what if she found him and all her dreams came true?

But how often did that happen?

Lucy raised a shaking hand to her stomach and closed her eyes. Her mind, body, and soul were in turmoil. Once she started on this journey, there was no going back. She’d found a sort of peace in the life she had. Was it worth it to risk that peace? When doing so might shatter her beyond repair?

“What would you do, Brynne?” Lucy whispered. “If someone told you’d they’d seen Jake…would you go? Just to see? Just to make sure?”

She finally looked up at her sister, knowing it was unfair to use her deceased brother-in-law against Brynne but wanting her to understand, to support her decision.

Brynne held her stony-faced expression for a second longer, and then her face fell. She came into the room and sat on the bed. “Yes,” she said quietly. “I would go.”

Lucy let a sob escape and sat beside her sister, welcoming Brynne’s embrace. She let Brynne hold her and rock her, just as she had when they were children.

It had been seven long years since the night Finn had left. Running from the law, and from Brynne’s wrath, after his part in the kidnapping of Coraline. He’d only done it to protect Coraline from his smuggling partners when they had decided to kidnap her for ransom in order to recoup their losses from Brynne’s bandit activities. But with his partners dead and the police bearing down on him, Finn had fled for his life.

Lucy understood. It had been necessary at the time. She’d wanted him to go, told him to flee to safety. But she hadn’t thought he’d stay away forever. Eventually Brynne had calmed down and had come to understand that he’d only done what he needed to in order to protect her daughter. The police were no longer looking for him. But still he hadn’t returned. Lucy had heard nothing from him except for a note he’d sent a month after he’d disappeared, letting her know he was all right. She’d gone to look for him. And hadn’t found him.

Then the war started, and everyone’s life had been thrown into chaos. But Lucy had thought of Finn every waking day.

“I still dream of him nearly every night,” Lucy whispered. “But his face isn’t clear anymore. Sometimes I’m afraid I’ll forget it entirely. But when I dream, I hear his voice as if he’s standing next to me.”

“Oh, Lucy,” Brynne said, hugging her sister tighter.

“I know you wish I’d marry one of the suitors you’ve found for me. Sometimes I wish I could. I wish I could fall in love with someone else, let go of Finn once and for all. But I can’t. How can I pledge myself to another when nearly every night I hear
his
voice in my dreams? And then wake in the morning feeling his loss all over again.” Lucy shook her head. “I’ll never marry. I don’t think I’m capable of loving anyone else.” She laughed. “Besides, I’m already an old maid. Who would want me?”

Brynne sniffed. “Old maid. Hardly. Any man would be lucky to have you.”

Lucy sat up and gave her a sad smile. “No. I can’t burden a man with a wife who could never love him as he deserved.”

“Lucy, you don’t know that you can’t love another. You’ve never really tried. You compare everyone you meet to Finn, and perhaps that is natural. But you’ve never truly and properly tried to let him go. You’ve always hung on to the hope that he’d come back someday. How can you move on with your future if you are still so tightly holding onto the past? I know this is hard to hear, but on this subject, I know what I’m talking about.”

Lucy sighed. Brynne was right. Though she had tried to let Finn go. Truly. She filled her sleepless nights with secret charity drops and the occasional black-masked act of banditry or vigilante justice…anything she could do to keep her mind from dwelling too long on Finn. Nothing had worked.

But now…now she had news of him. He was alive! And she had a good chance of finding him. Mr. Watley had seen him just a month prior, down in Charlotte. He’d been happy to run into his old friend, though Finn had apparently not been as happy to see Mr. Watley. Mr. Watley chalked it up to the war. No one had come away unscathed and few wanted to be reminded of those days. From the stories Mr. Watley told her, Finn seemed to have tried his level best to get himself killed. All he’d succeeded in doing was to commit more heroic acts than anyone else in the regiment.

Now Lucy knew where he was. She only prayed he was still there.

Even greater than her fear that he would leave again was another fear. One that made her nauseous with dread.

“What if he doesn’t remember me?” she whispered, hardly daring to give the fear voice.

Brynne scoffed. “Not possible.”

“But it’s been so long. I was hardly more than a child when he left.”

Brynne gazed at her long and hard. Finally she grasped her hand. “You never forget the ones you love, Lucy. They burrow their way into your heart and never let go, no matter how many years may pass. Even if the love you once felt is no longer there, a piece of your heart will always belong to that other person.

“I’m not going to promise you that he still cares for you. It has been a long time, and much has happened to change you both since you’ve last seen one another. But I will promise you that he hasn’t forgotten you. He loved you once. Even I could see that, though I didn’t want to,” Brynne said with a smile.

“I’m not going to pretend that I’m happy with you going to find him,” she continued. “But I understand why you need to go. If you don’t, you’ll always wonder. Perhaps once you’ve seen him, once you’ve laid the ghosts of your past to rest, you’ll be able to move on with your life. Move on and find some happiness. That’s all I want for you. And I don’t think you’ll be able to truly let yourself be happy until you’ve made your peace with him.”

Lucy hugged her sister. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Brynne stood, quickly wiping at her eyes. “Well, you’d better hurry, or the train will be leaving without you.”

Lucy gave her a watery smile and grabbed her coat and hat. Finally, she’d see him again.

Excitement and terror warred with each other in the pit of her stomach. Maybe this trip wasn’t a good idea. But it wasn’t a choice really. If he wasn’t happy to see her…Well, she just prayed she’d be strong enough to walk away again. But at least she’d know for sure.

Chapter Four

Lucy turned the letter over and over in her hand. She’d read the brief note a thousand times, ten thousand times maybe, since it had been delivered. She’d kept it all through the war, looking at it whenever her loneliness had grown too overwhelming. The letter made her feel closer to him somehow. Reading it once more wouldn’t reveal anything new. But she couldn’t help herself.

I’m safe. Please don’t look for me. Have a good life. Be happy.

Be happy. Certainly. Perhaps if she could cut out her heart and grow a new one, she’d be able to find happiness without him. She’d tried. For years, she’d tried. After he’d gone, she’d courted every young man her family had thrown at her. She gone to parties and socials, she’d filled countless dance cards and accepted invitation after invitation. But every man she met had paled in comparison to Finn.

During the war, she had volunteered her services in the clinic, working beside Brynne and Richard until she’d dropped into bed each night, so weary she couldn’t dream. Since the war, she’d thrown herself into her work even more. Anything to keep busy, to keep her mind from straying to the love she’d lost. But nothing kept her visions of Finn at bay. His face haunted her waking hours and tormented her dreams. She had to find him, if only to lay the ghost to rest. Whether or not he remembered her, let alone wanted her still. But either way, she hoped finding him, seeing him again, would allow her in some way to move on.

“Charlotte, next stop!” the conductor announced.

Lucy gathered her shawl and slipped it over her shoulders. She had little hope that Finn was still in Charlotte, where Mr. Watley had seen him several weeks ago. But there was nothing to do but follow his trail. Surely, once she was here she’d hear some word of him. A man with Mohave tribal markings tattooed on his face would be hard to miss.

She stood and waited by the door to her first-class cabin for the train to come to a stop. The train slowed and Lucy exited the minute it jerked to a halt. She stood for a brief moment on the platform, unprepared for the heat that slapped her in the face. It was like trying to breathe through a wet blanket. She pulled off her shawl and made a mental note to schedule in some time to shop for some lighter clothing. Summers in Boston were hot, but the humidity in the South was something she’d never experienced before.

Lucy whipped out her fan, glad to have a little relief. But once the surprise of the heat dissipated, the enormity of her task overwhelmed her. People bustled all around her. How would she ever find him?

She only allowed herself a second to feel pity. For the first time in seven years she had word of him. Faint hope flickered through her. But that was more than she’d had in a long time. It was enough. She shook herself and looked at the letter in her hand. She might not know where he was right at that moment, but she knew where he’d been. Mr. Watley had seen Finn at the Chatford Hotel. Might as well start there.

Lucy headed to the main road and hired a carriage to take her to the hotel. On the drive there, she focused on breathing slowly, in and out. She’d never been anywhere alone before, let alone in a strange city. But hell, once upon a time, she’d covered her face with a mask and played the bandit, risking the wrath of her corrupt half brother to deliver much needed money and supplies to the besieged people of her town. Being the new girl shouldn’t be too hard.

The carriage pulled up to the Chatford Hotel and Lucy descended and marched right up to the desk, which was blessedly free from customers. The man behind the counter gave her a polite smile.

“Good afternoon, miss. How may I help you?”

“I need a room please.”

“Certainly. Are you checking in alone?” The man glanced behind her, his brow creased.

“Oh no, of course not. My husband has business in town and sent me along to get things ready for us here.”

“Ah, of course, of course,” he said, his face clearing. “Well then. Just sign the register here, please,” he said, indicating the next blank line in his book.

Lucy took the proffered pen and signed Mr. and Mrs. Finnegan Taggart.

She wasn’t sure what possessed her to use Finn’s name. She should have used something more common. Mr. and Mrs. Jones perhaps. But the sight of
Mrs. Taggart
sent a thrill rushing through her that was hard to contain.

Lucy didn’t like lying and under normal circumstances wouldn’t care if people knew she was traveling alone, but she had realized as she traveled South that people gave her less of a hassle if they assumed she was married. If they thought she had someone to look after her, they were less inclined to try and do so themselves. The last thing she needed was an overly helpful and concerned hotel clerk hounding her every move, trying to protect her. Besides, if she found Finn, it would make matters much easier if a man was seen going into her room.

That thought sent warmth spreading to long-forgotten parts of her and Lucy fought to keep a blank face. But she was a realist. She loved him and she’d been pining for him for seven very long years. If she were to find him again and discover that he’d been missing her as much as she’d been missing him…well, a disapproving desk clerk wasn’t going to stop her from hauling Finn into her room and locking the door behind them.

The clerk took the pen back from her and turned the book back toward him. “Well now, we live in a small world, to be sure.”

“Pardon?”

“We have another Finnegan Taggart staying at the hotel. I wonder if he could be kin to your man.”

It took Lucy a second to respond. Her face felt as if it was frozen in ice but she forced a smile. “It could be. I suppose there are a number of Finnegan Taggarts running about.”

The clerk chuckled. “I’m sure you’re right. Well, now, here is your key. You are in room number 325. I’ll just have the porter bring your bags up.” He snapped his fingers and a boy ran up with an eager grin and grasped the handles of her bags.

“Will there be anything else?” the clerk asked when Lucy hesitated by the desk.

She had to ask. The coincidence was too much. “Yes. Actually, this might sound a bit odd, but I was wondering, have you seen anyone unusual perhaps? He might have some…markings on his face?”

Lucy didn’t want to describe Finn in too much detail in case he was traveling in disguise. It hadn’t occurred to her to ask Mr. Watley if Finn’s tattoos had been covered when he’d seen him, and he hadn’t mentioned it. She had no idea what he’d been doing for the last several years, but based on his past business partners…well, she was sure there were people he’d rather not run into. Asking about a man with facial tattoos would be as memorable as seeing the tattoos themselves, or nearly so. No point in making this conversation any more memorable than necessary, for both Finn’s and her sake.

“No, Mrs. Taggart, I’m sorry. No one like that.”

“Well, he’s tall, blue eyes, light red hair…”

The clerk broke into a huge smile. “Now, that I can help with. The other Mr. Taggart I mentioned…”

“Yes?” Lucy whispered, her blood roaring in her ears.

“He fits that description.”

“Do you…?” Lucy forced herself to breathe and slow down, though it took all her willpower not to jump over the desk and shake the clerk by the lapels until he spilled every last drop of information he had about Finn. “Do you perhaps know where I can find him?”

“Certainly, ma’am. He’s right there.”

“What?”

The clerk jumped at her shrill voice. “There, ma’am.” The clerk pointed to the bustling lobby behind her.

Lucy turned, her heart dancing in her chest. She gripped her room key so tightly it bit into her flesh.

“Thank you,” she managed to choke out.

The clerk looked at her, a confused frown furrowing his brow, but his attention was thankfully taken by another guest.

Lucy stared in the direction the clerk had pointed, her vision going blurry at the edges. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to rein in her rioting emotions.

Finn looked different without his tattoos visible, but it was definitely him crossing the hotel lobby. He was older. His handsome face looked weary with a sharpness to it that hadn’t been there before. It took everything Lucy had to keep from running to him right there and then. But she didn’t want their reunion played out in the middle of a hotel lobby. What if he didn’t want to see her? What if…what if he was there with someone else? What if he was married? Lucy swallowed down the nausea that rose at that thought.

Tiny stabs of jealousy pricked at her with every pair of female eyes that Finn drew to him. Covering his tattoos was a smart move on his part, and it certainly helped him blend in, to a certain degree. But if he’d been hoping to avoid notice, he’d vastly misjudged his appeal. Six feet of muscled, strawberry-blond goodness with striking blue eyes were enough to make any woman forget her name.

Lucy missed the tattoos though. They were so much a part of him that he didn’t seem complete without them.

Finn started up the stairs leading to the guest rooms. Lucy strode to the staircase. The key to blending in, she’d often found, was to act as if you were supposed to be there. While she had every right to be in the hotel, following a man up to his room was not something a decent woman would do. As long as she didn’t appear furtive about it, no one should suspect she wasn’t where she was supposed to be. She kept her head up, her eyes ahead, and marched up the steps as if she knew where she was going. She only hoped Finn wouldn’t notice he was being followed.

At the landing, she turned left and hoped she’d chosen the right direction. She gasped and whirled around. Finn’s retreating back was entering a room several doors down from where she stood. Lucy pretended to fix her bonnet, fiddling with it and gazing at her reflection in one of the mirrors that dotted the hallway until she heard his door close. She cautiously glanced over her shoulder.

Seeing no one, Lucy hurried to the door she’d seen him enter, her heart nearly beating from her chest. She was about to see him again. Confront him about leaving. Find out where he’d been, what he’d been doing. Stare into those eyes again. Touch him. Breathe him in.

By the time she reached his door, the anticipation building in her was damn near suffocating. What if he had a wife and children behind that door? What if he didn’t remember her? The last time he’d seen her, she’d been a fresh-faced eighteen-year-old. Now she was twenty-five. A far cry from the young girl he’d fallen in love with.

She reached out to knock, then hesitated. What if he no longer loved her? It had been so long. Surely he’d moved on.

The flood of butterflies in her stomach rioted, her nerves overwhelming her. She should just leave well enough alone. She’d seen him. She’d seen that he was alive and well. Perhaps it was enough. If she walked away now, she’d at least be able to hold on to her fantasy awhile longer. Because if she knocked on that door only to be rejected or to find that he’d moved on…she didn’t think she could bear it.

She took a step back and frowned. His door was slightly ajar. The Finn she knew would never be so careless. Before she could back away farther, the door flew open and Finn grabbed her arm and hauled her inside. The door slammed behind her and Lucy found herself pressed against the wall, Finn’s large hand wrapped about her neck, not squeezing, but most definitely imprisoning her.

He locked the door, his eyes never leaving her. Lucy’s lungs screamed. She couldn’t draw in air fast enough. The initial rush of fear had melted into awareness. This was Finn. Her Finn. He held her captive, every inch of his body pressed against her, his gaze roving over her face as though he hadn’t eaten for an eternity and she were the juiciest piece of meat on the table.

The anger faded from his face the longer he stared at her. His fingers relaxed as finally recognition dawned. “Lucy?”

“Finn,” she whispered. But that was as far as she got.

He crushed his lips to hers, kissing her with a desperation that all but broke her heart. He pulled her against him, molding their bodies together. Lucy flung her arms about him, pressing as close to him as she could. He felt the same. Tasted the same. For a moment, it was as though no time at all had passed. A small sob escaped her throat, a sound that conveyed both her euphoria at finally being in his arms, and her frustration that they had so many layers of clothing between them. She wanted to feel every inch of him, feel his skin against hers. Engrain his very essence into her own so that he could never leave her again.

He tore his lips from hers, cupped her face in his hands, staring as though he couldn’t believe she was really there. She smiled, a laugh choking through her tears of joy. He was really there. In her arms again. Her heart was going to burst with happiness.

She reached up to tangle her hands in his hair, bring his lips back to hers, but he stopped her, grasping her wrists as he broke away from her. His eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched. She could see him shutting down, closing off from her.

“Finn?”

He spun away and Lucy’s knees nearly buckled in despair.

“What are you doing here?” He kept his back to her, his head hanging, defeated.

“Looking for you.”

“Why?” he asked, so quietly Lucy almost didn’t hear him. He looked at her, those beautiful blue eyes burning into hers. “Why?” This time the word was harsh, anguished, ripped from his throat.

“I…I wanted to see you. Make sure you were okay. You left without a word and then there was the war and I didn’t know…I’ve wondered, worried…”

Finn paced, liked some caged animal that was being goaded by malicious spectators. Lucy swallowed the lump in her throat, not wanting to acknowledge that her fantasies were crumbling around her.

“How did you find me?”

“Does it matter?”

Finn’s gaze shot to hers and Lucy straightened. He was different, harsher somehow. But he was still her Finn. And she was a Richardson, damn it. She refused to be intimidated by anyone.

“You just wipe that glare right off your face, Finnegan Taggart. I’ve traveled all the way from Boston with my heart in my throat—praying for the chance to get to see you again, make sure all was well with you. Last time I saw you, you told me you loved me, and while you might not feel the same after all these years, I thought what we had was special enough that we deserved the chance to find out. So here I am. And if you aren’t happy about me being here, well then, you can just say so and I’ll be on my way. But there isn’t any call for you to be glaring at me like I’ve done something wrong because the only one in the wrong here is
you
.”