Calhoun Chronicles Bundle (74 page)

“
Your
experience. And what is that, pray tell?”

He glared across the room at her. Then he struck a match, holding the flame to a lamp. A nimbus of diffuse whiteness glowed, illuminating the room. The new light outlined the bitter set of his mouth. “Nothing I would share with a young lady.”

“Oh, really?” Resentment prickled over her like a rash. “But it’s fine for you to meddle in my most private affairs.”

“You left your love letter on Rowan’s desk.”

“Under the blotter.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s in Butler’s hands now.”

She shuddered at the thought. “There’s a special place in hell for people like you.”

He smiled and even laughed a little. “Believe me, my dear, I would consider hell an improvement.”

She rose and went to the stairs, pausing at the top. She burned to know what had turned Jamie Calhoun into what he was, why he preferred hell to his own life. Or was that just the whiskey speaking?

Shadows flickered on the faded carpet runner as the cloak of evening fell. “I must be going,” she said. “Thanks to you, I shall have to figure out a way to explain the mistake to Lieutenant Butler.”

“There was no mistake. Unless you lied about your feelings.”

“I didn’t lie.” The whisper escaped her before she could stop it.

He followed her out of the room, planted himself in front of her and barred the head of the stairs with an arm across the railing. His arm was bared to the elbow by a rolled-back sleeve, giving him the look of a common laborer. He was, she thought, quite a muscular man, wildly different from the slender, pampered gentlemen of her customary social circle.

She scowled the thought away. “Excuse me,” she said.

“Don’t go.” He stood close to her, his body warmth reaching unexpected places in her.

Rattled by her response to him, she laughed without humor. “From any other man, I would consider that a romantic confession.”

“You’ll only make a mess of things if you try to tell Butler you wrote that letter by mistake.”

“Things are already a mess, thanks to you.”

“Abby.” He descended two steps so his face was even with hers. In the shadowy hallway, he looked mysterious, corrupt, sensual…fascinating. “Let events unfold as they were meant to do. What you said in that letter—your honesty, your passion—it’s a rare thing. You probably don’t even realize how rare. I’ll tell you what Butler is feeling right now, having read what you wrote.”

He brushed his thumb over her wrist, his touch so bold that she didn’t think quickly enough to pull away. “He’s feeling ten feet tall, Abby.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“To be the object of a love like that…It’s a gift beyond price. Believe that, Abby. Believe in your own heart. God knows, Butler does. Don’t take it away from him.”

“How do you know what he’s feeling?”

He leaned forward, and she noted with a shock that he was closer to her than any man had ever been. If she tilted her head the least little bit, they would be kissing, she thought wildly.

“Because, Abby,” he said, “I felt that way myself, once, long ago.”

S
omeone had taken a ball-peen hammer to his head. Lying in the dark in the middle of the night, Jamie could only conclude that some manner of assassin had broken into the house and stood over him, pounding at his unprotected head with a deadly rhythm.

He dragged his eyes open, blinking at darkness. His mouth felt like the bottom of a cave. A cave filled with bat guano.

God. What had he done?

He lurched to his feet and staggered across the room, banging his shin on something. Swearing, he groped his way to the washstand and found the basin filled with water. He bathed his face and rinsed his mouth and slowly began to feel human again.

He used to find entertainment in a glass or two of whiskey. During his lost years overseas, he’d found that and more in a taste of absinthe, heated by a match under a tiny glass spoon. But as time went on, he learned the limits of drinking. No amount of liquor could make him forget the things he yearned to erase from his mind—Layla’s betrayal and the nightmare of his imprisonment. The botched escape and the sacrifice Noah had made for him.

Bracing the heels of his hands on the edge of the stand, he cast off his bitter regrets and glared into the darkness. Tonight’s intemperance had been brought on by something quite different. He should not have done what he did. It was underhanded, dishonorable, manipulative.

Of course, he thought ruefully, that was why the people of Virginia had elected him to Congress.

He thought about Noah again and the reason he’d run for office in the first place, and renewed his conviction. Noah was gone, and now the home he had built for his family was in jeopardy. Jamie had to safeguard Noah’s legacy. To do that, he needed Cabot’s support. Cabot had two daughters. They were fair game when the stakes were this high. If Jamie took a hand in getting one of them married off to young Butler, he’d surely win the sponsorship of the two most powerful men in Congress.

The pounding in his head subsided to a dull thud. Finding his watch on the windowsill, he brushed aside the curtain and held it to the light to check the time. It was two forty-five in the morning.

Moonlight cast a milky translucence over the rooftops of Georgetown. The night was empty and still, giving him the impression he was the only person astir in the world.

Then a movement caught his eye. A flicker, no more. The wind blowing a shadow across his field of vision.

But no.

Fully alert now, he dropped the watch and pulled open the door to the balcony. Cold air struck his bare chest, arms, feet. He hadn’t bothered removing his trousers before collapsing in bed. From the iron rail of the balcony, he located the source of the movement.

An intruder lurked on the roof of Senator Cabot’s house.

Jamie acted before he thought. He hoisted himself up and over the rail, ignoring the cold. Edging to the corner of the town houses, he balanced himself on a brick corbel projecting from the building. He knew better than to look down. Reaching out, he leaped across the narrow gap between the houses, landing with a metallic
bong
on the iron fire stair that slanted along the side of the building. He paused, not letting himself breathe, to make sure the burglar hadn’t heard.

When he was halfway to the top, it occurred to him that he had no weapon but his bare hands.

That had never stopped him before, and it didn’t now.

The intruder moved across the roof. Jamie could hear but couldn’t see him. He had a labored, lumbering gait as though he carried a burden of some sort. Senator Cabot’s silver service or jewelry, perhaps.

Jamie boosted himself to the roof, knowing he’d have to work fast to maintain the element of surprise. He was running as soon as his feet touched the tarred and pebbled surface, and in three strides, he tackled the burglar.

They hit the surface of the roof in a pile of grappling limbs. Air rushed out of his quarry’s lungs. A pair of fists beat at him, and a strangled scream tore through the night. He wrestled his opponent flat. A knee came up sharply, but he twisted to one side, avoiding the blow.

“Get off me, you great oaf. I can hardly breathe.”

He rolled away and sat up, gape-mouthed with amazement. “Abby?”

She brushed herself off, tucking a long robe carefully over her legs and feet. “Are you still drunk?”

“After this?” He picked himself up, offered a hand. “I think not. Are you still angry at me?”

“Oh, anger doesn’t begin to describe it.”

“Everything will be fine, I promise you.”

She hesitated, her gaze focusing on his bare chest. Her wide-eyed curiosity drew an unexpected reaction from him. Impatient, he grabbed her hand. As he pulled her up, she stumbled and lurched. He caught her against him, and for a long moment savored the closeness, the smell of her hair, her skin.

“You’re nearly as graceful as I am,” he commented.

Planting her hands against his chest, she pushed back and moved toward a dark, rounded hole in the middle of the roof.

“Abby, you’re limping,” he said. “Did I hurt you?”

She froze. The moonlight outlined her silhouette as she turned toward him. “You didn’t hurt me. Not just now, anyway. What on earth were you thinking?”

“I was going to save the day by capturing a burglar on the roof.”

Her shoulders trembled and he could tell she was holding in laughter. “You must be freezing, you great fool.”

“I think I’ve gone numb by now.”

“Here.” She stooped, then handed him a long, fringed shawl. “Put this on.”

Under other circumstances, he might have balked at donning a woman’s angora shawl, but he was grateful for it at the moment. He wrapped it around his chest, but it kept sliding down.

“Here, let me.” She stepped forward and draped the thing over his shoulders, then tied it loosely in front. “That’s better. I suppose you’re wondering why you found me on the roof in the middle of the night.”

“I am.”

She said no more but led the way to the far edge of the roof. When Jamie recognized the domed structure, he let out a short, incredulous laugh. “You have an observatory.”

“Indeed I do.”

“Your sister mentioned your interest in astronomy, but I had no idea you would be this…well equipped.”

“You expected me to be a dabbler, then. A dilettante. Switching from embroidery to chinoiserie to painting on glass, and oh, when I have a moment or two, I might take a peek at the stars.”

“I can tell by your hostility you’ve been asked that before. Don’t lump me in with your critics, Abby. I don’t belong there.”

“Why not?”

He had a peculiar urge to touch her, but held his fists clenched into the shawl. “Because I know you.”

“You’ve only just met me.”

“You’re easy to know.”

“For those who have read my private correspondence, yes, I suppose I am.”

That again. He’d done the right thing with the letter. She simply didn’t understand that yet. “Let’s not revisit that argument now.”

“Afraid you’ll lose?”

“Afraid we’ll both die of boredom. And now you’ve intrigued me. I must see what has you wide awake and skulking around at three in the morning.”

“Sweet heaven, is it that late?” She ducked into the opening of the observatory dome. He followed her, slamming his forehead against the top of the door.

At the curse that came out of him, she turned in the gloom. “What is that word you just said? I’ve not heard it before.”

“It’s Catalan,” he lied, though it was actually low German. “If I translated it, I could be arrested for indecency.”

“Oh. Never mind, then. Keep your head low and come over here.”

The light inside the dome was bluish, as though they were under clear water. A telescope was positioned atop an iron pedestal that swiveled by means of a foot pedal. With a lens a good eight inches across, the base sprouting calibrated attachments, it was an impressive instrument, its size dwarfing the busy woman in front of it.

She motioned him over to a low stool. “Sit here. Have you ever looked through a telescope before?”

“No. A ship’s glass, though.”

“I think you’ll like this.” She bent her head and positioned herself at the eyepiece, making a slight adjustment with her hand on a small brass knob. “You mustn’t touch anything. Take a look.”

Bending low, he closed one eye as though he were sighting down a rifle barrel and looked into the round lens.

Blackness.

He lifted his head. “What is it I’m supposed to see?”

“If you were viewing it correctly you wouldn’t have to ask.”

“Do you practice at being annoying or does it just come to you naturally?”

“Try again. Your head is at the wrong angle.” She startled him by taking his head between her hands. With her palms over his ears, she held his gaze in position.

“This is very strange, Abby. I’ve had women grab me before, but never like this.”

“Keep looking.”

He tried again, this time making a subtle adjustment of the angle of his gaze. The blackness resolved to a field of stars. They seemed to leap to life the moment he focused on them. He held in the sharpness of his indrawn breath, afraid to move.

“You see?” she whispered. “That’s the Hyades cluster, between the moon and Aldebaran.”

He was able to discern a V-shaped constellation. “Yes, yes, I see it.”

She guided him through several other viewings, and he was surprised to find himself enjoying the experience. He’d looked at the stars from the deck of a ship, the ramparts of a fortress and even from between the bars of a prison cell, but this was the first time he’d made order from the chaotic splendor of the night sky.

After a while, she led him away from the telescope, out onto the roof. “How keen is your vision, Mr. Calhoun?” she asked.

“Keen enough, I suppose. Why?”

“There’s a special event tonight, one that can best be appreciated with the naked eye. Look, it’s starting.” She turned him toward the northwest. He saw a peculiar hazy glow, and a distant movement, stars exploding in a rain of fire.

Amazed, he turned to her. “What is that?”

Even in the silvery blue darkness, he could sense her smile.

“It’s a meteor shower. Fairly rare in October, but it seems we’re lucky this year. We’re seeing a meteor storm.” She spoke with the hushed reverence most women reserved for prayer.

“It’s incredible. Like magic.”

“Not really. Earth is passing through a condensed stream of particles from a comet, and as the dust flies through the atmosphere, the particles heat up, creating the glow we’re seeing. All those bright meteors and meteoroids are from the parent comet.”

“Is that the comet you’re looking for?”

“Heavens, no. That was discovered and named by a Vatican astronomer named Giacomo half a century ago. When I spot my comet, I will be the first to see it.”

“How do you know where to look?”

She laughed. “It’s complicated. Just call it magic.”

He forgot the chill of the night and the fact that he was wearing a lady’s shawl as he relaxed and watched the display. The heavens had caught fire and were falling to earth. And yet to most people it seemed like an ordinary night, made for sleeping with the drapes drawn tight. As he watched, a certain feeling clutched at him. He was reminded of the way he felt the first time he’d seen the Matterhorn or the Great Pyramids or the
Mona Lisa.
He was looking at something so much larger than himself, so much more profound, that he felt like a different person.

“I’m amazed, Abby,” he said at last. “Truly amazed. You are a wonder.”

“Not in the least. It’s the universe that inspires wonder.”

“But it took you coming out here in the middle of the night to see it. Who could have imagined that this was all going on?”

“Trust me, it’s not that rare. The Leonids and Geminids will soon be on display. All things are visible if you know where and when to look. But you have to be patient and you have to look deep. Most people lack that patience.”

“And a powerful telescope,” he added. He was awash with the need to enfold her in his arms, to press his lips to her hair. But he didn’t. She had a fragile heart, he reminded himself, and she had entrusted it to another.

The moments slipped by. Unaware of his rampant thoughts, Abigail made copious notes and calculations using an array of instruments, most of which he did not recognize. By the time a rose-colored thread of dawn spun across the horizon, she had created pages of notes and tables.

In a house across the way, lights blazed to life as the servants started their day. Abigail scowled at the glowing windows.

“What’s the matter?” Jamie asked.

“It’s frustrating. The lights of the city impede the view.”

He thought for a moment. “What if I were to take you to a place that is completely dark?”

“Then I’d show you things you never dreamed of,” she said.

Her comment sparked an erotic thought of showing
her
a thing or two.