Just One Kiss (33 page)

And of course, there was Nathaniel… always Nathaniel.

A storm swirled within him, a blustering squall of suspicion and deceit. He couldn't banish the jealousy eating away at his insides. God, but it was like a knife turning inside him! It was all so much like before… Nathaniel and Amelia. Nathaniel and
Elizabeth
. Even the news of the baby had been much the same.

We're going to have a baby, Morgan.

Amelia's image danced before him. Morgan cringed inside, remembering what came next.

Oh, and surely you've guessed. Nathaniel is the father.

God, he remembered how Amelia had goaded him. How she'd laughed in loathsome glee as he'd walked out the door.

We're going to have a baby, Morgan.

He steeled himself once more. This time it was Elizabeth's voice ringing through his mind, the velvet green of her eyes abrim with vibrant promise.

Unlike Amelia, whose eyes had gleamed with undisguised malice.

I-I hoped you would be happy, as happy as I am.

Unlike Amelia, Elizabeth hadn't been laughing. She'd been crying, her expression stricken and bruised…

He could still hear her heartbroken sobs in every corner of his soul.

Unlike Amelia.

The taste of self-disgust was a bitter brew indeed. God, but he was a fool, a fool even to think of the two in the same breath.

But no more, he vowed. No more…

He got to his feet, his muscles protesting the movement. Crossing the floor to the window, he saw that the clouds had parted. A single, twinkling star winked down at him.

A faint smile rimmed his lips. He would leave tomorrow, he decided. It was time to go home. Home to Boston. Home to Elizabeth.

As was his way, Jonah was well aware of all that had gone on since he'd last seen Nathaniel. He watched from nearby when Nathaniel was delivered home once more. He watched as Nathaniel once again gradually began to go about his business. Jonah relished the wariness in his manner. Jonah could see it in the way Nathaniel surveyed his surroundings whenever he left home…

… which only made it all the more amusing when Nathaniel returned one day to find Jonah sitting in his drawing room, a goblet of Nathaniel's finest wine in hand.

Nathaniel did not find it so amusing. He was most disconcerted but determined not to show it.

"What do you want?" he demanded of the Englishman.

Jonah smiled. "I do believe that's already been established." His gaze shifted to Nathaniel's shoulder, where the thickness of a bandage stretched his jacket tight. "I'm glad to see you've recovered so quickly."

Nathaniel clenched his fists. "You bastard. You tried to kill me!"

"I beg to differ. If I'd wanted to kill you, you'd be dead. No, my fine young sir, that was merely a warning—a warning which wouldn't have been necessary if you hadn't decided to run off again." An imperious brow arose. "That was what you intended with that meager bit of cash upon your person, wasn't it?"

Nathaniel clenched his jaw and said nothing. What did it matter if he knew?

"If I were you," the Englishman went on, "I'd bear in mind there will be no more warnings. Though I do believe I've been going about this all wrong."

"If I'm dead, you'll never get your money," Nathaniel stated flatly.

"Ah, but what about your brother? He's done quite well for himself, your brother Morgan. What if he were to… suddenly meet with a deadly accident?"

Nathaniel had a very good idea where Moreland was taking this discussion. Coolly he met the other man's arrogant scrutiny. "His wife would inherit, not me."

Moreland made a show of swirling the wine in his goblet and studying it. "A pity," he said lightly. "Perhaps, then, it might be just as well if they both have an accident. Poor couple. 'Twould be a tragedy, really, being newly married and all." He raised his head, his eyes glinting. "But then there would be no impediments to
your
inheriting. And you certainly would have no shortage of funds with which to repay Viscount Hadley, now would you?"

Nathaniel's regard was stony. "You'll get Hadley's money. But I'll have to borrow it from Morgan. Give me until afternoon tomorrow."

"Excellent!" Moreland set aside the wine and got to his feet.

Nathaniel watched him amble toward the door. "Should we meet here?"

Moreland smiled and tipped his derby. "Oh, I think not. But don't worry. I shall notify you before then of the place and time." He sauntered through the door.

Nathaniel's face was grim. There was a cold, hard knot in the pit of his belly. God, but that man was a snake! He'd never considered that the devil would drag Elizabeth and Morgan into this.

But he had threatened her life—and Morgan's life. The wounds in his shoulder and side were proof enough that Moreland meant business. Moreland wouldn't let up until he'd gotten what he came for. But he couldn't ask Morgan to repay his debt—not this time.

It seemed he had some pride left after all.

And maybe, just once in his life, it was time to do the noble thing… the right thing.

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For Elizabeth, the last few days had passed in a haze, as she'd wavered between feeble hope and wrenching despair. In the face of all Morgan and Nathaniel had suffered, her own heartache seemed almost small and insignificant.

But no less difficult to bear.

Her days were alive with helpless frustration, her nights with endless yearning. When would Morgan return? If only she knew! And how could she convince him the child in her belly was his? Would he leave her as he'd wanted to leave Amelia?

All this and more weighed heavily on her mind—to say nothing of her heart.

On this particular afternoon, Annie had convinced her to try to nap briefly before dinner. She was just about to stretch out on the daybed when she heard the sound of footsteps below in the entrance hall. She raised her chin and paused, her head tipped to the side, her ears straining. Then she heard it, the low buzz of male voices. Morgan! she thought joyously. Her pulse raced as she fairly flew down the stairs.

It was Nathaniel.

Simmons had just taken his hat. He glanced up at her, his handsome features guarded. "Hello, Elizabeth."

"Nathaniel." She smiled and beckoned toward the drawing room. "Please, come in." She was surprised but pleased to see him. He, too, had been on her mind. She'd wanted him to stay until the matter of his debt to Viscount Hadley had been settled; at least until the threat of danger from the man with the brown derby was over. But he had refused, adamantly.

Sitting on the edge of the divan, she smoothed the folds of her skirts. "Would you like tea?"

"No, thank you." Nathaniel took the wing chair across from her. "I won't be staying long."

Elizabeth's eyes held him in a quick but thorough appraisal. His color was good, and though the set of his shoulders was a bit stiff, he seemed fit. "You're looking much better," she observed.

"I'm doing quite well, actually." It was his turn to study her. "Is Morgan home yet?"

All the light went out of her eyes. Nathaniel cursed his brother for the world's greatest fool.

"He'll come to his senses, Elizabeth."

There was a stark pain in her eyes. "Will he?"

"The situation is entirely different than with Amelia." He sought to reassure her. "He cares about you, Elizabeth, in a way he never cared for her."

"I wish I could believe that," she said wistfully. "It seems I have little choice but to wait and see." Her gaze followed his form as he arose. "You're leaving already?"

He nodded. "I have something for you, Elizabeth." He fumbled in his jacket pocket and withdrew his fist. "Here. Hold out your hand."

Curious, Elizabeth obeyed. Something cool and smooth dropped into her palm.

Her pearls.

Stunned, she gasped. "You said you'd given them to that horrible man—"

"I lied," he said with such aplomb that she couldn't withhold a bubbly laugh. "Would you like me to put them on?"

"Please." She obligingly presented her nape. When he finished, she turned and touched the strand with her fingertips. "Thank you," she said softly. "I-I can't tell you how glad I am to have them back." Softer still, she added, "They were a wedding present from Morgan."

"Then I'm glad you have them back."

A dimple appeared in her cheek. "You know, you aren't such a scoundrel as you think, Nathaniel O'Connor."

He gave a rusty laugh. "Oh, I am, Elizabeth. But it seems I've suddenly developed a conscience." His smile withered. "I probably shouldn't be here. But I would like to know that you don't hate me."

"Of course I don't hate you! You will always be dear to my heart, Nathaniel. Always."

Guilt flirted briefly across his face. "And so you forgive me?"

"Yes. Yes, of course!" She reached up and impulsively gave him a hug.

She walked with him to the entrance hall. There he turned to face her. Some of the tightness around his mouth eased, yet he seemed so somber.

"When you see Morgan, will you give him a message for me?"

"Of course."

"Tell him if he hurts you, I'll come back to haunt him." He bent and kissed her cheek. "Goodbye, Elizabeth."

With that he was gone. Elizabeth stood at the door and watched as he sauntered down the walk and out of sight. A troubled frown wrinkled the smoothness of her brow as she climbed the stairs to her room. Over the course of the next few minutes, the elusive nagging within her only grew stronger.

She couldn't banish the uneasy feeling that something wasn't right. Nathaniel had not been himself. Granted, between his injury and his startling confession, she could hardly expect his usual jovial spirits. But he had been so somber, almost sad.

She retraced her steps to the drawing room. There she began to pace back and forth. It was on her fourth pass by the wing chair where Nathaniel had sat that something caught her eye. Bending over, she retrieved a tiny, wadded scrap of paper. Nathaniel had stood in this very spot when he'd pulled her pearls from his pocket. This must have fallen out with the movement.

She tugged it apart. A huge knot of dread had lodged in her chest, though for the life of her she didn't know why. The paper was so crumpled, she had to squint to read the writing scrawled across the surface:

6 o'clock. 200 Ferry Lane.

Once again she scanned it. It was an address. Was Nathaniel meeting someone… ?

The man in the brown derby.

Her hand began to shake. Her skin turned clammy. The thought came from nowhere, an awful premonition that sent a shiver all through her. Nathaniel was going to meet the man in the brown derby, the man who had stabbed him.

There was a sudden commotion in the entrance hall. She glanced up just as her husband strode boldly through the door.

She was running before she even knew it. "Morgan! Oh, thank God you're back!" Unthinkingly she flung herself straight into his arms. She would have sobbed her joy were it not for the fear mounting ever higher in her breast. "Morgan, we have to hurry! Nathaniel's gone to meet the man who stabbed him…" She was babbling, half-hysterical.

Strong arms caught her. For just an instant she was held close against his heart; then he drew back so he could see her. "Elizabeth, calm down! Where is Nathaniel?" Such behavior was unlike her. He knew from her desperate air that something terrible must have happened.

It came out in disjointed phrases, yet somehow she made him understand. "Nathaniel's being blackmailed… that's why he was stabbed… He came by and gave me back my pearls. I knew something wasn't right… I found this slip of paper on the floor… There's an address on it… Oh, I know it sounds crazy, but I think he's going to meet him—the man who stabbed him!"

Morgan's heart lurched. He snatched the scrap of paper she waved and scanned it quickly. "This is near the shipyards." He glanced at the clock on the mantel and swore. "Damn, it's six now! Say a prayer, Elizabeth. I'll be back as soon as I can, I promise." He tore out the door, yelling for Willis.

Elizabeth was fast on his heels. She wouldn't stay here, not when he might be in danger, too! When Morgan realized her intention, he spun around with a sharp rebuke.

She faced him with blazing eyes. "You're not leaving me behind, Morgan O'Connor, not this time!"

Without a word he extended his hand and pulled her into the carriage.

They traveled to the waterfront at breakneck speed, on a wild, swerving ride that nearly sent the pair tumbling to the floor more than once. Yet through it all, Elizabeth managed to tell Morgan the details of the entire story: the loan from Viscount Hadley that Nathaniel had lost gambling; how the man with the brown derby had tracked Nathaniel from England to reclaim the debt, which was why she'd given him money the night Morgan had seen Nathaniel kiss her. She left out nothing…

Except that Nathaniel had stolen her pearls. Perhaps it was unwise, but she decided it best to let Morgan believe she'd only been trying to help Nathaniel with his troubles.

They jolted to a halt. Morgan thrust open the door. Elizabeth tumbled out directly behind him. He whirled around and dropped his hands on her shoulders.

"No, Elizabeth! Stay here where you're safe!"

She wasn't listening. She was busy searching over his shoulder. "There!" She pointed and cried out sharply. "There they are. The man with the derby, that's him with Nathaniel! They just went down that alleyway!"

Morgan turned and bolted. Heedless of his warning, Elizabeth picked up her skirts and ran as fast as she was able. But all too soon her lungs felt as if they would burst. Just as she reached the alley she stumbled and fell forward, bruising her knees and scraping her hands. She tried to rise, but a stitch in her side pained her so that she was unable to stand up and follow Morgan. Biting back a sob of despair, she raised her head.

There between two buildings a grisly scene was being played out between Nathaniel and the man in the brown derby. She saw it as if in slow motion. Nathaniel raised a clenched fist high and thrust it at the Englishman's face. Angry shouts were exchanged. Morgan was less than ten steps away from the man with the derby.