Each Time We Love (51 page)

Not bothering to hide his contempt, Bodene said coolly,
"Forget about Savanna—she's a married woman now."

Micajah's eyes nearly started from his head and he stared back
at Bodene's hard features in slack-jawed astonishment.
"Married!"
he ejaculated in a stunned voice. "But she couldn't be! No one but me
would be foolhardy enough to marry such a hellcat!"

Bodene seated himself on a corner of his desk, still watching
Micajah with open contempt. "I'm sorry you view the news with
disfavor—especially when I have even more unpleasant news for you."

"What do you mean by that?" Micajah demanded warily.

"I mean, my craven friend, that I'm afraid you have finally
run your length. You made a fatal error when you kidnapped, or
thought
you kidnapped, Jason Savage."

Micajah's eyes narrowed. "Thought?"

Bodene smiled grimly. "It wasn't Jason Savage you kidnapped
that night, it was his brother-in-law—and it is his brother-in-law, who
is, I might mention, a wealthy planter from Natchez, who married
Savanna. You could say you even introduced Savanna to her husband—Adam
St. Clair."

If Micajah had resembled a fish gasping for water at the news
that Savanna was married, this new broadside had him purpling with
rage, his narrowed eyes nearly disappearing inside his skull as he
glared at Bodene, his fists clenched menacingly at his side.
"St.
Clair!"
he said with such loathing, in such explosive
accents, that Bodene was startled.

"Do you
know
Adam St. Clair?"

"No, I don't know the bastard!" Micajah bit out harshly and he
was on the point of furiously spitting out his whole sorry tale when he
suddenly closed his mouth with a snap. Besides the money, he now had
another reason for wanting to end Mr. St. Clair's days and he sure as
hell wasn't so stupid as to blurt out his plans to Bodene Sullivan!

A frown on his face, Bodene questioned bluntly, "If you don't
know St. Clair, why does his very name provoke you so?"

Thinking rapidly of a way to divert any suspicions Bodene
might have, Micajah forced a weak smile onto his lips. "Oh, it ain't
him
in particular," he explained carelessly. "It's just that it don't seem
right that some rich dandy should come along and snatch Savanna right
out from underneath my nose! I always figured that someday Savanna and
me would settle down together." He sighed heavily. "Now that she's
married to this here St. Clair, reckon I'll just have to put aside that
idea and shake Mr. St. Clair's hand."

"I doubt Mr. St. Clair will want to shake your hand. In fact,
I'm damned sure that he has every intention of putting a bullet between
your eyes! Something I should have done years ago!"

"Since it would appear I'm not very welcome around here,
reckon I'll just be on my way," Micajah replied testily, not liking the
look in Bodene's eyes.

"Unfortunately, you won't be able to do that either," Bodene
snapped coldly. "I told you—this time you've run your length. I intend
to hold you prisoner, and you're not going anywhere until Savage and
St. Clair decide what
they
want to do with you!"

There was suddenly a deadly, threatening silence in the room
as the two men stared at each other, their bodies tense and ready to
spring. For a fraction of a second they were frozen like an ancient
tableau of good confronting evil, and then with a muffled oath Micajah
sprang at Bodene. Even though he'd expected it, Micajah's powerful
charge milled Bodene over, Micajah's massive limbs closing crushingly
around him, pinning his arms to his sides, effectively stopping him
from reaching for his pistol.

Swaying in a violent embrace, they fell to the floor,

Bodene's pistol flying from his pocket in the struggle.
Micajah grunted with satisfaction, but he didn't lessen his hold and
over and over they rolled, chairs flying and crashing against the wall
as Bodene fought maniacally to escape the paralyzing force of Micajah's
rib-cracking imprisonment. By sheer blunt strength, Bodene finally
managed to break Micajah's hold on him, but as they fought, each to
overpower the other, one of Micajah's fists struck him viciously on the
chin. Dazed by the powerful blow, Bodene went weak for a mere second
and by then it was too late. Micajah leapt to his feet and pulled his
own pistol.

The weapon pointed at Bodene's heart, Micajah smiled toothily
down at him. "Well, well, ain't this a pleasant change of events! I'll
wager you never thought this would ever happen!" There was no time to
gloat, however. It was obvious that the sounds of their fight had not
been heard above the noise of the gaming rooms, but that didn't mean
that one of Bodene's men wouldn't be knocking on the door at any
second. Micajah's smile faded and, his blue eyes icy, he growled, "On
your feet! Get over there and sit behind your fancy desk."

Seething with impotence, Bodene did as directed. In seconds he
was tightly bound and expertly gagged.

Certain that Bodene was not going anywhere soon, Micajah put
his pistol away and said, "Reckon I'll be going now. Can't say I liked
your hospitality."

He sidled out the door and hurried from The Golden Lady, his
thoughts bitter indeed as he realized that the man he had been hired to
kill, the man he had wasted days—nay, weeks—trying to find, had
actually been right under his very nose! A cold fury grew in his chest
when he understood just how duped he had been, the depth of his rage
growing when he realized that
everything
he had
done since he had first heard that blue-eyed devil's name in Natchez
had been for naught! In Micajah's mind the list of crimes committed by
Adam St. Clair against him were endless and unforgivable! Every ill,
every setback, every misfortune he had suffered since the night he had
been hired to kill him could be laid directly at Adam St. Clair's feet!
Micajah's massive fists opened and closed impotently when he considered
how differently things would have turned out if only he could have
found the bastard and murdered him in the beginning. Not only would he
have been many dollars richer, but his reputation as a fellow who could
be counted on to accomplish the dirtiest deeds would still be intact.
Adam St. Clair, simply by living, had tarnished Micajah's standing and
damaged a lucrative trade for him. Not content with doing that to him,
Adam St. Clair, by being mistaken for Jason Savage, had destroyed the
initial plan to find the gold, and—far worse—had made a fool of Micajah
Yates. Heaping further indignities on him, he had boldly stolen and
married the one woman Micajah had always figured to make his own. It
was downright insulting what that man had done to him and it certainly
wasn't to be tolerated! A cold smile crossed Micajah's face as he went
in search of Jeremy. A plan was forming in his brain and in the
very
near future Adam St. Clair was going to learn precisely why he was
called
Murdering
Micajah!

The door had hardly shut behind Micajah's retreating figure
when Bodene began to struggle violently against the bonds that held him
captive, and though he was an unusually powerful man, Micajah had known
what he was about and Bodene's actions came to naught. Thoroughly
infuriated, Bodene continued to fight and twist at his bonds and when
they remained tight, he tried time and again to spit out or loosen the
gag, but even that proved futile. In frustration he tipped over the
chair to which he was bound, crashing to the floor, he wiggled and
squirmed his way over to the door. It was an awkward business, but he
was finally in a position to pound against the door to his office with
his feet and he could only hope that someone would eventually hear the
thudding sounds above the noise of the gamblers.

While it seemed like an interminable time, it was only some
minutes later when the door to his office was cautiously pushed open,
and Jack Mooney, one of his most trusted men, peered inside the room.
His craggy features congealed into shock when he viewed Bodene still
trussed and tied like a chicken on the floor.

Leaping into action, Jack swiftly undid the gag. Heedless of
anything else, Bodene said urgently, "Never mind me! Get some of the
men and start searching for Micajah Yates—we've got to find him and
hold him before he causes any more trouble. On your way out, send in
one of the girls to set me free. Go!"

Jack didn't hesitate, and whirling away, he rushed out of the
room. When he returned an hour later, it was to find Bodene impatiently
pacing the confines of the restored order to the office. As Jack opened
the door, Bodene's hopeful gaze swung to him.

Jack shook his head. "Nowhere. We checked every place we could
think of, chased down several of his cronies and questioned them, but
it's as if he's disappeared. No one has seen him, either in the city or
leaving it."

Bodene cursed virulently under his breath, his uneasiness
growing with every moment. "He's going after Adam, I just know it!"
Seating himself behind the desk, he searched for a quill and paper and
began to write, saying to Jack as he did so, "I want you to deliver
this message to Adam St. Clair or Savanna, at Campo de Verde,
immediately!
Take Toby Willis with you—use a pair of my best horses—not the
black—I'll need him myself later—and ride as if the devil were on your
heels. Stay at Campo de Verde until I arrive—I shall be following
shortly behind you, once I've made another sweep of the city. There may
be someplace you've overlooked, and I want to satisfy myself that
Micajah
really
has left the city and not just
gone to earth." He looked up at Jack's rough-visaged features. "Adam is
his main goal, but watch out yourself and remember he has Jeremy
Childers with him. Leave the back way—and for God's sake, be alert for
treachery!"

Jack nodded and turned on his heel and departed. Moodily
Bodene stared at the closed door. He had done what he could to protect
Adam and Savanna for the moment, but a deep sense of guilt filled him.
If only he hadn't relaxed his guard and allowed Micajah to overpower
him, then none of this had to happen! Furious with himself, he rose to
his feet. He wasn't going to do anyone any good brooding here in
silence. He needed to find Micajah. Thoughtfully he took out the small
pistol he usually kept in his desk and carefully placed it inside his
waistcoat. "Always knew I'd have to kill the bastard someday…"

Late the next afternoon, Adam read Bodene's note with his
features becoming increasingly grim. No more than Bodene did he trust
Micajah, and he cursed himself for not having realized that Micajah
could
not
allow him to live with impunity. Being
the creature he was, Micajah
had
to kill him!
Sitting in the back room that Elizabeth had turned over to him to use
as a private study when he had offered to help her with some of the
plantation's accounts, Adam frowned blackly. Having Micajah lurking
about with who knew what sort of murderous vengeance burning in his
heart was not precisely what Adam needed to worry about right now. At
the moment, he thought bitterly, he needed to concentrate on his
deteriorating relationship with his wife!

Adam poured himself a tumbler of whiskey and stared broodingly
out of the window that overlooked the home garden. When he and Savanna
had returned to Campo de Verde, he'd had such hopes that, despite a bad
beginning and the loss of their child, they had begun to grow closer
and that the day he could openly declare his love for her and have her
reciprocate his feelings could not be far away. But ironically, the
nearer they had come to Campo de Verde, the farther Savanna had seemed
to slip from him, and the closeness they had shared in New Orleans just
seemed to vanish.

There was not open hostility between them, at least not yet,
Adam admitted with a scowl, but there
was
a
distance in her manner, an aloofness in her attitude, a cool politeness
that he was powerless to shatter. He was furiously aware of the
barriers she was flinging up between them, of the way she was
retreating from him, seeking some private place where he could not
reach her.

Increasingly Savanna treated him like a damned visitor, he
decided angrily—like some bloody
stranger!
There
were times, when she would give him one of those detached little smiles
and offer some polite reply or comment, that Adam came near to
violence. He wanted to hit someone or smash something, to bellow aloud
his baffled frustration, and yet at the same time he desperately wanted
to snatch her into his arms and kiss her passionately and demand that
she tell him what was wrong, what was going on in that beautiful head
of hers… but he did nothing, mindful of the traumas that she had
suffered, mindful of his own part in them.

Adam had noticed that she was quiet during the ride to Campo
de Verde, but he had assumed that she was still suffering from her
recent tragic ordeal. He'd even used that excuse when they had arrived
at the plantation and she had fallen, weeping, into her mother's arms
and Elizabeth had tenderly wafted her away to the master bedchamber,
which had been prepared for their arrival. It was natural that a woman
would want her mother at a time like this and he had discreetly made
himself scarce. Even when it was suggested oh-so-delicately to him by a
stammering Elizabeth that first night that he sleep in the adjoining
chamber, he had not demurred or considered it unreasonable, although he
had been disappointed not to be able to share the comfort of each
other's nearness as he and Savanna had in New Orleans. What he hadn't
expected was that weeks later, when Savanna was in obviously blooming
health, the connecting door to their bedchambers would remain staunchly
locked.

His scowl deepened, his dark blue eyes icy. What sort of
animal does she think I am? he wondered furiously. I'm not going to
fall upon her and demand my conjugal rights the first moment that
presents itself! A twisted smile curved his mobile mouth. I might
want
to, he admitted ruefully, picturing all the silken, voluptuous flesh he
knew lay beneath the lovely gowns she was wearing these days. Yet just
thinking about making love to his wife had its usual effect upon him,
and irritably ignoring the heat pooling in his belly, he turned
impatiently away from the uninspiring view of the vegetable garden. The
ache to feel his wife in his arms once more didn't go away and he
wondered bleakly if perhaps she wasn't wise to keep the damned door
locked!