Linda Castle (14 page)

Flynn regarded her through narrowed eyes. Beneath her yellow curls and sorrowful blue eyes, there was a quick mind. She wasn’t afraid of taking risks for Rachel. Something apart from lust warmed and liquefied inside his chest.

“It will be a big project,” he heard himself saying. “I have to see what shape the shafts are in, order new shoring and timbers, hire men.” He frowned while he rubbed the pad of his thumb across his jaw. The abrasive, scratchy sound of beard stubble against flesh made her own skin tingle and her heartbeat quicken.

“I would help you. Anything you said would of course be the last word. I wouldn’t expect to make any of the decisions,” she added quickly when his brows shot upward. “I would be willing to work like a dog to get it up and running again.” She twisted her hands together eagerly. “I’d do anything that you say, to help Rachel.”

The scowl disappeared as rapidly as sunshine burns through storm clouds. He looked at her with a new approval in his gaze.

She liked it, and she hated herself for feeling that way.

“I’ll ride out to the Lady and take a look at the place. If it looks like she has any ore at all left under her skirt, then we’ll reopen it.” He dried his hands on a clean flour sack and started to leave.

She reached out and touched his shirtsleeve. “There is one more thing.” Marydyth stepped in front of him. She took a deep breath and met his gaze without flinching. “I want to go with you to the Lavender Lady.”

He studied her face for what seemed like a long time before he narrowed his eyes and expelled a heavy breath.

“All right, Marydyth. We’ll leave Rachel with Gertie and we’ll both go.”

The next morning Marydyth searched through the trunk Flynn had brought from the attic and found her best clothes. She fluffed her blond curls and put a bonnet on her head.

She couldn’t go on without having a few questions answered, and she wanted those answers before they went to the Lavender Lady. His words, “you and I are stuck with each other and there isn’t a thing either one of us can do about it,” had haunted her day and night

She needed to know exactly what he meant.

Rachel and Flynn were in the barn with Jack when she left the house. She didn’t tarry, setting herself a quick pace as she walked down the hill and into Hollenbeck Corners.

As she entered the main business district she was greeted by hostile gazes and whispers. One man even stepped in front of her, barring her way. She had thought he might be moved to violence but—coincidentally?—then Ted Kelts had appeared from nowhere.

“Marydyth, you are looking well.” Ted fell into step beside her, and the bully faded away into a nearby alley. “Where are you headed so early?”

“I have an appointment.” Marydyth ducked her head and used the bonnet to shield her face as she lied.

“I see, a woman of mystery.” He didn’t say any more,
just continued walking with her up Fir Street to the corner of State Street.

“Well, here I am.” Marydyth stood in front of a plateglass window that had fancy lettering. Ted’s eyes scanned the words.

“Seeing an attorney?” he finally asked.

“Yes, I—I have affairs I need to sort out. You understand.” She didn’t want to discuss this with Ted—or anyone else for that matter. She gripped her reticule tighter, thinking of the copy of the will and the other papers that Moses had given her tucked safely inside.

“I thought Moses Pritikin handled all the Hollenbeck business?” Ted narrowed his eyes and studied her face.

“Yes, he does.” Marydyth smiled. “Thanks for walking me, Ted. Now if you’ll excuse me.” She turned and stepped into the office. When she looked back Ted Kelts was watching her with a strange expression on his face.

She heard a sound and turned to see a young man with pale skin and a quick smile. He was rolling down his sleeves and pulling on a frock coat all in the same clumsy motion.

“I was still unpacking. Excuse the mess.” He had a rich, melodious voice that was surprising in one so young and slight of build.

“Think nothing of it.” Marydyth extended her hand. “I am Marydyth Hollenbeck. I need you to look at some papers for me.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Wainwright Sloan, and I would be pleased to help you.” He coughed and sneezed twice, coloring hotly and apologizing for his rudeness.

“Perhaps if you leave the doors ajar some of this dust will clear out,” Marydyth suggested.

“You don’t mind?” he asked before another sneeze
exploded from him. He held his kerchief over the bottom part of his face and opened both the front and back doors.

Marydyth took a seat in front of his cluttered desk, and waited for Wainwright to get settled. Over the next hour, Wainwright answered all of her questions. J.C.’s will and the guardianship papers were unbreakable. They bound Flynn to the Hollenbecks as tightly as Marydyth’s love for Rachel bound her to Flynn.

“I am sorry I don’t have more promising news, madam, but the papers were properly executed.” The attorney looked at her over the rim of his spectacles.

She sat back in the chair. A smile curved the edges of her mouth. “I see.”

“I must say you are taking it rather well.”

“I’ve had a few days to adjust to the idea,” Marydyth said, but inside she felt a secret flare of relief.

“It appears that your mother-in-law made certain that Flynn O’Bannion has total control—with no restrictions.”

“And there is no way for this to be revoked?”

“None whatsoever, for as long as he and your daughter live. Now, should they precede you in death—” Wainwright Sloan coughed a little when he read the horror in Marydyth’s face “—something I am sure will never happen, but if it should, then the trust would revert to you under the conditions that Mr. O’Bannion insisted upon when he took over the duties as your daughter’s guardian.”

That information settled uneasily in her brain.

“It was most forward thinking of Mr. O’Bannion but the wording is quite clear. Unless he and Rachel pass on, the fortune and day-to-day operations of all the Hollenbeck properties remain under his control.”

“What about Victoria’s money?” Marydyth heard herself asking.

“The way I understand it, upon Mrs. Hollenbeck’s death, should Mr. O’Bannion be unable to continue in his capacity or precede her in death, her portion of the money goes to a charity in Denver.”

She stood up and straightened her skirt. “Thank you, Mr. Sloan, I think I understand now. What do I owe you?”

“I’ll send a bill to your home as soon as I get a bit more organized. It was my pleasure to assist you, madam, and let me know if I can do anything else for you.”

“Yes, yes I will, and thank you again.” Marydyth walked out of his office and into the bright sunshine. Now she was prepared to go to the Lavender Lady with Flynn.

The next two weeks whirled by with the speed of a desert dust devil. Flynn got estimates on timber and freight charges and hired a foreman who would find laborers and oversee the day-to-day refurbishment of the mine if, after his inspection, the Lavender Lady proved to be a viable venture once again. All the while, Marydyth did the cooking and the cleaning, and cared for Rachel. Life at the mansion was settling into an easy routine.

Every day Flynn found himself growing more and more aware of Marydyth. He knew when she laughed and when she cried in her sleep.

Several times he had been on the porch with a cold cigarette in his mouth when he heard her whimper from the room above him.

Once he had even started up the stairs to her part of the house.

He had stopped on the stairs and asked himself what he was doing. She had made it clear she did not want to discuss the past or her dreams with him. Still, he found himself listening for her, wishing that he could go to her, damning himself for wanting to.

It was like walking over cactus needles.
And it scared the bejesus out of him to feel this way about her.

He had always been a lone wolf. He had ridden alone until Rachel had come into his life. And now Marydyth was nudging her way under his skin whether he liked it or not.

He felt responsible for them both, but it was more than that with Marydyth. He felt a searing attraction to her—an attraction that was eating him alive.

He could go to town and visit a bordello but some nagging little consciousness told him that it just wouldn’t be the same.

That worried him even more. What if he bedded a painted cat and found himself thinking of Marydyth, wanting Marydyth? It was a test he didn’t want to take for fear of the outcome, so he sat, night after night, and thought of her smooth white skin and her sad blue eyes.

This crazy notion of possessiveness toward Marydyth and Rachel made him a little weak in the knees. And then one night, after he had been contemplating his weakness with two fingers of whiskey and unlit cigarette, he ran into Marydyth on the stairs.

It was well past midnight, and she was the last thing he expected to see.

But there she was, standing on the staircase like a wisp of white smoke. Her nightrail fell softly from her shoulders, only a shade whiter than her skin.

“Marydyth?” He gripped the smooth wood banister, wondering if he could have gotten drunk on a shot of
whiskey or if his mind was making him see what he wished to see.

“Flynn,” she said softly.

“Are you all right? Is anything wrong?” His hold on the wood tightened.

She moved. It was only the slightest twitch of her body but it brought the musky attar of her washing over him. His pulse quickened and his blood got heavy and thick with lust.

“I—I couldn’t sleep.” She shivered. “That’s not true. I was afraid to go to sleep.”

“The nightmare,” he said.

While they stood there on the stairs the air became electric. Flynn was painfully aware of the gentle rise and fall of her breasts. Even in the partial darkness with only the thin, thready light of the moon leaking in windows he fancied that he could see the rosy rings around her nipples. His traitorous body stiffened when his eyes automatically skimmed downward to the faintly darker triangle at the juncture of her legs.

He let out a harsh breath and cursed himself. This was madness. She hated him—or at least she said she did.

So why did he want her so badly that his body ached?

“Flynn?”

“Yes, Marydyth?”

“Could you—would you—sit with me awhile?”

Every shred of common sense he possessed told him to refuse. She was no child to be lulled to sleep, and he was damned sure no nursemaid. Couldn’t she see the danger? Wasn’t she able to see how damned bad he needed a woman—needed her?

“Sure.” Part of him wanted to turn tail and run to the whorehouse and the other part of him wanted to slip his arm beneath her knees and carry her straight to his bed.

It was a hell of a note.

Marydyth was barely able to hold back the sob in her throat. Every time she closed her eyes the terrible images assaulted her. She was exhausted and yet she was afraid to sleep.

But the moment Flynn started moving toward her on the darkened stairs she felt an overwhelming sense of relief. It was as if he could hold back her demons with his strength and his will.

When he was beside her on the stairs she felt herself succumb. She crumpled like a shattered porcelain doll but his strong arms wrapped around her and kept her from falling.

While she was in his arms she was safe—at least for this moment—safe from her past.

After that night when he had sat beside her bed till dawn, Flynn had forced himself to ignore Marydyth. He didn’t trust himself around her and he still didn’t fully trust her. He couldn’t shake the sound of her voice confessing murder to Victoria.

By day he told himself that she was a criminal—that she had admitted it, but by night his conviction wavered. He heard her murmurs of fright and his heart bled a little for her.

Only rarely did Rachel have bad dreams now, but when Marydyth rushed to Rachel’s bedside, he held back, watching, waiting, filled with suspicion. He stood in the shadows and observed her with the hardened, experienced eyes of a lawman but his heart didn’t wat to listen.

And when Ted Kelts came to visit, which he was doing more and more often, Flynn found himself livid with an emotion that was strangely like jealousy. Even when
Kelts shook his hand and said how happy he was that the Lavender Lady might be running again, Flynn could only think of the way Marydyth smiled at him.

So it went until one bright, hot Wednesday afternoon, when Rachel was taken to Victoria’s house to be cared for by Gertie and Victoria’s nurse. The Hollenbeck mansion was locked up tight. Saddlebags were packed on Jack and a steady line-back dun named Trooper that Flynn had bought from the livery was saddled for Marydyth to ride. In total silence they set out in a southeasterly direction toward their first stop at Brunckow’s cabin.

Marydyth felt her palms growing wet with perspiration. She wanted—
needed
—to go with Flynn O’Bannion, but that didn’t stop her heart from pounding hard within her chest each time he slid that hard, agate gaze her way.

And the way he looked today. He was wearing a soft buckskin shirt that slipped over his head. The front was cut low and decorated with turquoise beads. He had a wicked-looking blade strapped to his leg.

He looked mean, tough and entirely too appealing. But while they rode out of town he treated her with quiet tolerance. If he was happy she was along, or unhappy, he kept that information to himself.

At the very outskirts of town a small crowd had gathered. There were mean stares and people pointed, but when Flynn looked at them their eyes slid away. She was still a pariah and an outcast.

But opening the Lavender Lady will change all that

She had to believe it She had to hope that providing jobs at the mine would help people to forget and forgive her.

And then maybe Flynn would be able to forget, too—at least a little about her past. It was something to look forward to, something to cling to. She had hope. If she
could make things better for Rachel and stop seeing the cloud of suspicion in Flynn’s eyes, it would be enough.

It would have to be enough.