Forever Safe (Beacons of Hope) (3 page)

“Arch asked me to do it.” Plain and simple. Tom didn’t like being in the States. There were too many ghosts that haunted him here. He was better off staying away and keeping busy in places where he didn’t have to think about all that had happened. Already only three days after docking, he was ready to go back.

Mr. Cole studied Tom again through narrowed eyes.

“It doesn’t look like I’m the kind of man you’re looking for.” Tom started to rise. “I’m sorry for wasting your time, Mr. Cole.”

“You’re not wasting my time, son.” Mr. Cole motioned for him to sit back down.

Tom hesitated.

“I trust Arch more than anyone else, except my wife of course. If Arch recommended you in spite of knowing my concerns about having young bodyguards, then I suspect he had a very good reason.”

“I understand the delicate nature of such a position.” Tom sat back down in the leather chair. Guarding a woman meant he’d be in close proximity to her most of the time. He’d also be alone with her frequently. It was unavoidable, since he would be her constant shadow. But that was the point. He was a shadow, in the background, and hardly noticed. “I do my best to be unobtrusive while maintaining safety.”

“I’m sure you can understand my concerns,” Mr. Cole replied. “By hiring a bodyguard, I don’t want to substitute one dangerous situation for another.”

“I understand completely, sir.” Even though Tom had a personal policy not to fraternize with the people he worked for, that didn’t mean the women around him hadn’t wanted more from him. He’d had to spurn advances on occasion. In fact, he’d had liaisons handed to him on a silver platter. Not from any of the women he’d guarded, but from their friends or younger relatives. He could have had his pick of sweethearts wherever he’d served. But he’d never given in to the temptation. And he didn’t plan to start now. “I guarantee the utmost professionalism at all times.”

Light footsteps in the room above alerted him to the presence of at least two females. The direction of their steps told him the ladies were moving across the room, exiting, and now walking down the hallway toward the stairs. Likely Victoria and one of her friends. The footsteps were spry—almost playful.

Mr. Cole pursed his lips and stared at Tom for an endless moment. Tom looked right back. Unflinching. He had nothing to hide. He was as good as his word. Mr. Cole didn’t have to worry about him.

“I’m willing to try the arrangement for a month,” Mr. Cole finally said. “Hopefully by that point, Arch will be fully recovered and ready to return.”

“He’s tough. I’m sure he will be.” At least that’s what Tom was counting on.

“Very well, Mr. Cushman.” Mr. Cole stood and held out his hand. “You’re hired. And rest assured, I’ll pay you a fair wage.”

Tom rose and shook Mr. Cole’s hand. Even though a month seemed too long, he’d do anything for Arch. “Thank you, sir. When would you like me to start?”

“Is today too soon?” Mr. Cole asked. “With the upcoming wedding, she has so many appointments, things to do, and places to go. And quite frankly, with the perpetrator still on the loose, I’m petrified to let her out of the house.”

The two pairs of footsteps coming down the hallway were identical to those Tom had heard overhead moments ago. Victoria and her friend were approaching the office. He suspected she was coming to ask her father for money and the use of the carriage.

A soft knock was followed by the door opening a crack. “Father?” came the voice of a young woman.

Through the two-inch space, Tom noted a pretty face with high cheekbones, an elegant nose, pert lips, and luminous honey-colored eyes. He’d assumed she’d captured the attention of her various suitors because she was the heiress of a massive fortune. But she had more going for her than just her wealth. Maybe she was the “darling catch” of society that the newspapers had claimed she was. The only trouble was, she seemed to have trouble staying
caught.

Her gaze snagged on him and her eyes widened. “I’m sorry, Father. I didn’t know you were with someone. I’ll come back.”

“No, Victoria,” Mr. Cole said quickly. “As a matter of fact, I was just going to ring a servant to retrieve you.”

The door opened further, revealing that Victoria was attired in the latest fashion, a striped purple, form-fitting dress that showcased the figure so many women aspired to. Her tiny waist was likely enhanced by a tight-fitting corset as was true of most wealthy women he’d known. But it was also clear she didn’t need the enhancement. She was naturally curved and slender in all the right places.

Her blonde hair was piled stylishly on her crown, but long ringlets hung down the back of her head. From the silk gloves in one hand and elaborately decorated bonnet in the other, he knew he’d called the situation right. She wanted to go out.

“Come in, Victoria,” Mr. Cole said, his features softening as he gazed at his daughter.

She returned her father’s smile, which only made her face all the more beautiful and vibrant. As she stepped into the room, Tom took in the young woman behind her, plainer and dour-faced but pretty nonetheless.

With the upcoming nuptials, he suspected that Victoria Cole and her friend were busy young ladies. He was surprised Mr. Cole would hire a bodyguard for his wife and not his daughter.

“Theresa and I were hoping to look at the samples of Brussels lace that I might use for my wedding veil. I’d really like to make the selection myself this time.”

Tom inwardly smiled at his correct assessment of her desire to go out and spend her father’s money. He was still as sharp as always.

Mr. Cole took his daughter’s hand in his, which gave Tom a glimpse of Victoria’s engagement ring—an enormous sapphire set into a circle of diamonds. Mr. Cole kissed Victoria’s hand gently. “Of course you may go.”

Her lips stalled around her next plea. She was clearly unprepared for her father’s easy acquiescence.

“First, I want to introduce you to Mr. Cushman.” Mr. Cole said.

Tom stepped forward. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Cole.”

Her attention shifted to him, and she assessed him without any real interest but nodded politely.

“Mr. Cushman has agreed to work for us.”

“Please. Call me Tom.”

Mr. Cole nodded. “
Tom
is a personal friend of Archibald’s and will be taking his place until he’s recovered.”

Victoria’s attention flew back to him, and this time she assessed him much more carefully, so carefully, in fact, that Tom held himself rigid in his effort to keep from squirming.

After several long moments, she met his gaze directly, unabashedly. With the flecks of gold and brown, her eyes were striking. And suddenly Tom’s instincts kicked into action. Something wasn’t right.

“Promise me that you’ll cooperate with Tom at all times.” Mr. Cole squeezed Victoria’s hand, which he’d yet to relinquish.

Alarm bells went off in Tom’s head and clanged a deafening warning. He’d made a mistake. A rare mistake, but one nevertheless. Somehow he’d misinterpreted all the signals and information regarding the job. Because he knew with certainty now that Mr. Cole hadn’t hired him to be the bodyguard for his blind wife. No. He’d hired him to play nursemaid to his social darling daughter.

Tom almost released a groan but he held it in. Only moments ago, he’d been smugly congratulating himself on his mental prowess. When in reality he was an idiot for not having put all the clues together sooner.

He had the overwhelming urge to bolt from the room and run. Run down the steps and out of the Cole mansion as fast as his feet could carry him. At the very least, he should explain to Mr. Cole that he couldn’t take the job after all. He would simply explain his policy of guarding only older women and blame the misunderstanding on Arch…

His mental tirade came to an abrupt halt. Arch had purposefully misled him. There was no other explanation for the mix-up. Arch knew his objection to taking on children and young unmarried women. Not only were there too many needless entanglements, but he didn’t want to be a babysitter, especially to a spoiled rich girl.

Victoria hadn’t taken her eyes from his. The amusement dancing in hers said she sensed his inner struggle, recognized her influence over him, and enjoyed her effect on men.

“Don’t worry, Father,” Victoria said with a growing smile. “I promise I’ll
cooperate
with my new bodyguard.”

Her emphasis on the word
cooperate
baited Tom. It was a challenge if he’d ever heard one. Victoria Cole was daring him to try to keep her out of trouble. She didn’t think he was old enough or experienced enough to handle it.

Little did she know him. He’d show her exactly what he was made of and why he was in such demand. Even if the assignment was nothing more than a glorified nursemaid job, he’d prove to her that he was one of the best bodyguards out there. If she thought to use her charm to get him to do whatever she wanted, she was in for a big surprise. She’d learn soon enough that her pretty face wouldn’t affect him. Not in the least.

T
he landau pulled to a stop in front of Goodson’s Bakery. Victoria reached for the door handle, but a strong arm shot out and blocked her.

She gave an exasperated sigh. “Must we go through this again?”

“Yes. Every stop.” Her new bodyguard’s voice was as steely as his muscles, which she couldn’t help noticing were incredibly thick beneath his suit coat. He wasn’t big boned like Arch, who certainly had been strong. Instead Mr. Cushman had a different kind of strength and sharpness that was nearly overpowering at times. Like now.

To say that he was handsome was an understatement. Theresa had summed it up well earlier when she’d mumbled under her breath, “He’s gorgeous.” His dark clipped hair, deep murky blue eyes, and chiseled features would have been enough. But there was something about the slant of his eyebrows that gave him a sad, wounded appeal and beckoned a woman to wipe her fingers across his forehead to soothe away his aches.

Except that now, Victoria had no notion to soothe him. Instead she wanted to box his ears. He hadn’t allowed her to get out at Theresa’s house when they’d driven her home. Theresa’s father, Mr. Fontaine, was the only frightening one in the family, with his volatile temper and cold silences. But Victoria had learned to ignore him over the years. Certainly she had nothing to worry about while visiting with the Fontaines.

Victoria sat back against the plush black velvet seat while Mr. Cushman surveyed the street up and down several times through the cloudy coach window. Then he opened the door and scanned the surrounding area.

“Don’t be a goose. It’s perfectly safe,” she said. “I’ve come here every day this week and nothing has happened.”

“Then after today, you won’t be coming back.”

“Of course I will. This is my favorite bakery.”

“Send one of your servants in your stead.”

She crossed her arms with a huff and scowled at his broad back. Not only was he quite possibly the most handsome man she’d met, but he was also the most arrogant. “You’re my bodyguard. Not my father or my jailor.”

Without responding, he stepped outside and tugged on the lapels of his coat while he straightened to his full height. He scanned the bakery and the nearby storefronts, their awnings, the windows on the upper levels of each tall building, even the flat roofs.

She moved to the edge of the seat, anxious to be out of the carriage and draw in a fresh breath.

As though he had eyes on the back of his head, he stuck a hand toward her to prevent her descent.

“Mr. Cushman,” she said in her iciest tone, “I really must insist—”

“If someone is stalking you, he’ll make it his business to know all the places you frequent.”

Mr. Cushman’s logic made such perfect sense that for a moment she was speechless. He was absolutely correct. The man who’d tried to attack her last week could possibly be among the people milling about the street. Maybe he was even now waiting to spring out at her as she made her way from the carriage to the front door of the bakery.

Mr. Cushman glanced at her over his shoulder. His eyes were somber and his square jaw set with determination. “I’m sending the coachman inside for you.”

She managed a nod despite the vision that filled her mind of Arch lying in the doorway in a puddle of blood. Without the quick arrival of the doctor, Arch would have died.

“What do you need?” Mr. Cushman asked.

“The baker will have my order ready.”

He nodded curtly before closing the door. She heard him issue brief instructions to the coachman and felt the rocking of the landau as Davis descended.

Although she’d complained about Mr. Cushman’s insistence on dropping Theresa off at her home early, she could see the wisdom in it now. She was putting her friend in danger every time they were together. The next time someone attacked her, what if they got Theresa instead? Or her mother? Or her father? The thought made her shudder. She didn’t want to be the cause of anyone else getting hurt. Arch was already one person too many.

All week she’d tried to make sense of what had happened. Her father and Arch were convinced that someone had purposefully attacked Arch in order to kidnap her. But if that was true, then why now? Was Big Al attempting to garner revenge upon her father again?