Linda Castle (18 page)

He picked it up and read the careful printing.

If you try to open the Lavender Lady, you will die.

Marydyth could feel Flynn’s gaze on her every step into Hollenbeck House. Knowing he was watching her gave her a mingled sense of excitement and dread.

She didn’t want him to scrutinize her so closely. She lived with the fear that eventually he would see the truth about her. That his probing eyes would find the rotten core of her soul and know her for what she was.

When they stepped inside the kitchen she got the largest pots she could find and put water on to boil. Flynn watched her from beneath his thick lashes for a few minutes before turning and walking stiffly away.

She was both glad and bereft to have him gone.

Flynn went into the front parlor and eased himself into a chair. His body ached and his mind was not much better
off. Every time he looked at Marydyth he wanted to drag her into his arms. He wanted to kiss her and make her feel safe.

Mostly, he wanted her to trust him enough to tell him what she dreamed.

But the one thing he didn’t want to do was tell her about the note he had found.

Flynn must have dozed because when he woke the shadows angling through the windows were gone. The room was dim, but then a golden flare drew his attention to a round side table. Marydyth was lighting one of the lamps.

She didn’t even have to look at him to know when he became aware of her.

“Feeling better?” she asked.

The room seemed to crackle with the strong emotions that sparked between them. She found herself feeling shy and insecure when his dark gaze turned in her direction.

Flynn wanted to inhale her scent, to taste her essence on the back of his tongue, but the bandage around his ribs prevented him from doing that.

He answered her with a grunt, more because he was frustrated with himself than for anything she had done.

Marydyth turned around and frowned at him. For a moment he thought he was going to get the rough side of her tongue but then Rachel came running into the li brary sucking on a fresh hoarhound stick.

“Where did you get that, Rachel?” Marydyth squatted beside her daughter, pushing back a strand of coppercolored hair from her face.

“That man who wanted me to call him Unca…he brought it to me.”

Marydyth straightened up and met Flynn’s gaze. Her face was taut.

“Where did you see him, Rachel?” he asked.

“He was in the front parlor,” Rachel said between licks on the sugar tit. “He was waiting for Mama.”

Flynn’s expression darkened. “Ted Kelts is here?” His voice was an indignant rumble. He awkwardly levered himself forward in the chair.

“Uh-huh.” Rachel nodded. “He said he wants to talk to Mama in pri-private.” She stumbled over the word.

Flynn’s brows pinched closer together. “Do you know anything about this, Marydyth?”

Each time he looked at her she felt hot and cold inside. One part of her longed to be taken in his arms and the other part of her wanted to hide from his perceptive gaze.

“No, I don’t know anything about it,” she answered softly. “Ted coming here is as much a surprise to me as it is to you.” She bent down and pulled Rachel near. “Rachel, did you let him in?”

“Uh-huh. He gave this to me.” Rachel held up the candy stick.

“That’s fine, sweetie, but from now on, you let Uncle Flynn or me open the door. Understand?”

“Uh-huh.” Rachel nodded and continued to suck on the hoarhound. Marydyth looked up at Flynn. There was something wary in the way he looked at her, something dark and wintry that broke her heart.

“Marydyth, you had better go see to your
guest
,” Flynn said with a reserved control in his deep voice.

His tone stung her soul. Why had she allowed herself to be so vulnerable around him? Like a fool, she had opened her heart and let him in.

“Come on, punkin, you stay here and keep me company. I’ll tell you a story.” Flynn grimaced when Rachel
scrambled up in his lap but he never said a word as Marydyth turned and walked away.

Ted Kelts was staring at her portrait when she walked into the parlor J.C. had used as an office. He turned to her and smiled. “You are a mighty handsome woman, Marydyth.”

“That was done a long time ago. There’s been a lot of water under the bridge since then.”

“And over the dam.” He finished the old saw. “For both of us.” He smiled warmly, and for a moment she felt the relief of being accepted for just who she was.

If only Flynn would treat her this way.

Even though they had shared each other’s bodies, there was a barrier between her and Flynn. She knew what it was, of course: they didn’t trust each other. He didn’t believe in her, and she didn’t trust him enough to unburden herself about the past.

“I stopped by to make you another offer on the Lavender Lady,” Ted said as they sat down side by side on the lemon-yellow settee. “I thought perhaps Flynn wasn’t making the decisions anymore.”

A chilled finger traced its way up Marydyth’s back. There was something about the way Ted wouldn’t meet her gaze.

No. That was silly. He just assumed that she would have found a way to regain control of the estate. It was a natural enough assumption. She had thought the same thing—that it was a matter of having a few papers signed. Nobody but Moses Pritikin, Wainwright Sloan and Flynn knew the terms of the will and trust.

“Flynn is still making the business decisions, Ted.” She twisted her fingers together in her lap.

His face fell.

“But I thought—that is…”

“What, Kelts?” Flynn walked into the room. “What did you think?”

“O’Bannion.” Ted’s eyes widened. There was a strange tautness in the lines that bracketed his mouth.

“You act surprised to see me, Ted.” Flynn narrowed his eyes. “I live here, remember? Or would there be another reason why you look so surprised?”

“Uh, I heard about your accident. I thought you’d still be in bed.” Ted flashed a friendly smile at Marydyth.

Something red-hot surged though Flynn’s blood when she smiled back.

Jealousy?

“It takes a lot to keep me in bed.” His involuntary gaze slid to Marydyth. She colored slightly.

“Anyway, it wasn’t that bad.” Flynn sat down in the chair facing the settee and crossed his long legs. “How’d you hear about the—accident, Ted?”

For a moment Ted frowned, then the smile returned. “Uh, I saw Moze Pritikin.”

“Really?” Flynn toyed with the stitching at the top of his boot. “Moze told you, did he?”

“I’m glad to see you’re not seriously injured.” Ted rose to his feet. “I had thought you might be laid up and could use some help to get the Lavender Lady up and running. I am real anxious to see her spitting out ore again—be real good for business.”

“I mend quick,” Flynn said with a cheerless smile.

“How did it happen?” Ted asked Marydyth.

“We were—” Marydyth began.

“I slipped and fell on some rocks—damned clumsy of me,” Flynn said with a casual shrug.

Marydyth glared at Flynn. He silently willed her to go along with him.

“Really? You fell?” Ted asked, with a note of doubt ringing in his voice.

“Yep, I’m just glad we were already finished looking at the Lavender Lady when it happened.” Flynn studied Ted’s face as he spoke. “If things go according to plan we’ll be able to reopen it in a month.”

Ted’s eyes narrowed. “You went inside the mine?”

Flynn tilted his head. “I got enough of a look to decide it would be in Hollenbeck Corners’ best interests to see it running again.”

Marydyth sucked in a breath and stiffened. Up until this moment Flynn had said nothing, given her no indication he thought it would be profitable to reopen the mine. A feeling of relief coursed through her.

“I see. Well, if you have everything under control and don’t need any help. I should be going.” Ted shifted his attention from Flynn to Marydyth. “Take care, Marydyth, and I’ll be talking to you again soon.” She escorted him to the front door, and said goodbye quickly, determined to get back to Flynn and find out just what was going on.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you found copper in the mine?”

“I didn’t,” Flynn said with an arched brow.

“But you just told Ted…” She frowned, trying to understand.

“I told Ted I thought it would be in everyone’s interest to reopen. And that is true, whether there’s enough ore or not.”

“But if it doesn’t make a profit?”

“Hollenbeck’s other mines near Bisbee can more than absorb the loss for a while. I agree with you, Marydyth, it will be good for Rachel if the mine is open and men are back to work.”

She felt a hot, thick lump in the back of her throat. He agreed with her. He had considered what she thought and decided her opinion had merit.

It was all for Rachel, of course. It had nothing to do with her. But still it made her feel good, feel worthwhile, that he agreed with her. Perhaps he was beginning to trust her, at least a little.

The next few weeks passed uneventfully. Flynn did what the doctor had suggested and took life easy. He slept late and spent time with Rachel while Marydyth busied herself with running the huge house and doing all the cooking.

During that time Flynn had never been able to find the right words to tell Marydyth that he trusted her. It nipped at the edges of his mind every day. It made him mean and grumpy, but, try as he might, he couldn’t swallow his pride.

Then, one night as Flynn was lying in his bed trying to form the words to tell Marydyth he felt like a damned fool, he heard her scream.

He sat up in bed, feeling the twinge of pain. She screamed again, and the pit of his stomach contracted. He ignored the dull throb in his ribs while he raced to her room, wearing only his drawers. The cool air washed against his bare legs while he ran through the maze of corridors. He burst through her door and found her, twined in the sheet, grappling with her invisible demons. It tore at his heart to see her suffering.

“Marydyth, it’s Flynn.” He yanked the sheet away from her body. A tearing sound filled the room. He realized that he had accidentally pulled her gown too. Her breasts were bare in the moonlight.

Her eyes flew open but they were misty and unfocused.
“Oh, please Andre, not like this, please, please.” She grasped at Flynn’s arms, her nails digging into his flesh.

“Marydyth.” Flynn grabbed her shoulders and stared into eyes that did not see him. “Marydyth, honey,” he said gently.

She blinked and her expression shifted. It was like a cloud passing over the sun. He knew the moment she realized it was him.

“Flynn, thank God you are here.” She collapsed against his bare chest, unmindful of the effect her own silky flesh against his was having on him.

His heart skipped a beat when she nuzzled into him.

“I—I had a nightmare,” she whispered, as if saying it too loudly could bring the terror back.

“Yes, I heard you.” He stroked her head, feeling the slip of her silken hair beneath his palm.

She stiffened beneath his hand. “Oh, my God, do you think Rachel heard me? I don’t want her to see me like this.” She started gathering the blanket to her, trying to straighten her ripped gown, struggling to restore her shattered composure.

“Honey, stop.” Flynn stilled her hands. “It’s all right. She slept right through it. I passed by her room getting here. It was quiet.”

She slumped against him in relief. “Thank God. Oh, thank God.”

“Marydyth, I think it’s time you told me what it is that terrifies you so.”

She tilted her head and looked up at him.

He could feel the blood surging through his veins, felt himself tighten and harden while she looked at him. She licked her lips and her eyes roamed over his face as if she were looking for something there in his eyes.

“Flynn?”

“Yes, darling, I’m right here.”

“I don’t want you to know—I don’t want you to see what I am.really like inside. If you knew, then you would hate me.”

“I could never hate you.” He brought his mouth down to hers for a soft grazing kiss.

“But you don’t trust me now. It would be worse if I—if I told you.”

“Honey, I trust you.” He took as deep a breath as his bandage would allow and gazed up at the formless ceiling. “I’ve been trying to find the words to tell you.” He expelled a heavy breath. “I acted like a real bastard, Marydyth. I know you didn’t shoot me.”

She was still in his arms. For what seemed an eternity to Flynn she just sat there, unmoving, barely breathing. He expected her to slap his face and order him from her room.

He deserved it.

“Oh, Flynn.” She shuddered. “You don’t know what that means to me. You, more than anybody on this earth, know the kind of life I led before.”

“I know you had it rough, but I don’t know the particulars.”

“Maybe it’s time I told somebody what happened. Maybe it is time I told you why I have bad dreams.”

He released his hold on her. She lay back on the bed. There was a full moon tonight, its silver shaft spilling into the room and across the bed. It turned her yellow hair to ashy silver and made her blue eyes luminous.

“Come and lie beside me, Flynn,” she said softly. “I want to feel you near me—it will give me strength.”

Flynn stripped off his drawers and slid into the bed beside her. Her fingers played along the white bandage bisecting his ribs.

“Does it hurt much?”

“Not enough to keep me from you. I’ve missed you, Marydyth,” he admitted as he bent his head and kissed her. She was sweet and warm and he drew her bottom lip into his mouth.

Marydyth’s heart sang when Flynn kissed her. She told herself that his trust and approval did not really matter, but it was a lie. His was the only opinion that really
did
matter.

He kissed her and she sighed. She shifted her body and helped him slide above her, mindful of his ribs. “But, Flynn—I want to tell you.”

“And you will, darling, you will…later.” He positioned himself between her thighs and slid into her with a heavy sigh.

“This feels like coming home, darling,” he murmured. “You feel like home.”

A sigh of pure pleasure escaped her lips, and she realized with a tug on her heart that she had lost the battle not to love him.