Linda Castle (8 page)

“I want to read to you, Chase.” Her soft words contained steel. She glanced up at him and he saw something new in her cool-water blue eyes. He saw determination harden within their depths. To protest further would put him at risk of exposure. He was, after all, married to her.

Married to her.

“Fine.” Chase sighed in disgruntled capitulation. He reached for the glass, tipped it up and drained it. If he got drunk enough, maybe he could ignore the way her skin looked or the softness of her lips. He would simply close his eyes and let the brandy numb his brain and his need.

Linese felt a tiny shiver of satisfaction at Chase’s grudging response. She wondered if this was how a general felt when he gained the hill or took the river. She bent her head and tried to hide her smile of pleasure. She was Chase’s wife, she should sit and read to him of the events in Main-field. She should pull off his boots and linger with him over
a glass of spirits, and then maybe they would be able to find what had been lost in the two years he was gone. Linese picked up the first paper and read the date aloud.

“’June 22, 1861. The citizens of Cooke County have formed a home defense and are calling themselves the Cooke County Home Guard Cavalry.’” She glanced up at Chase. He had leaned his head back against the chair and his eyes were closed. She started to read again.

Chase listened while Linese read about Texas and the campaign to secede. Reports of the weather and the escalating war took most of the space, with an occasional tidbit about a birth or death. Her voice was pleasant and somewhat soothing to him. He found himself actually enjoying the sound of it.

After a few minutes he heard the paper crinkle and realized she had stopped reading. The room seemed empty and cold without the sound of her voice. He raised his head and looked at her.

She was neatly folding the paper away. “Do you wish for me to continue?” She tipped her head toward him and raised her eyebrows in question. The lamplight glinted off the clear azure color of her eyes.

His heart thudded painfully inside his chest cavity. It took some effort to keep from reaching out to touch the silken strands of her pale hair.

“Yes, please do.” Instead of closing his eyes this time, he watched Linese with intensified interest. He was powerless to do anything but watch her, and want her, and die a little because he could not touch her.

She picked up another paper from the disorganized pile and opened it. Light glimmered on her hair when she bent her head toward the page. Chase knew he was courting his own disaster, but no matter how he argued with himself, he could not force himself up from the chair, or his eyes away from the vision of his wife.

” ‘June 1, 1862. The provost marshal is looking for the person responsible for the murder of Alfred Homstock, a new resident to Ferrin County.’”

Her face became animated and her brow crinkled slightly while she read the old news item. Soft lips curved, bent around the sound of the words, in a manner Chase found exotic and sensual.

“’…unsubstantiated rumors abound that Homstock’s death was in retaliation for Unionists being lynched by suspected secessionists recently in Cooke County. Unverified reports indicate he may have been part of the Underground Railroad and could have been the victim of the runaway slaves he was trying to help, but so far there have been only rumors. The sheriff in Tyron County will be handling the investigation.’”

She stopped reading and laid the paper down in her lap. A soft flush filled her cheeks, she swallowed hard and blinked. Her pink-tipped tongue darted out to moisten her lips. Chase could see she was embarrassed about something. He was struck by a sudden feeling of satisfaction to know that about her, but he realized it was obvious, and was not a memory returning to him.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Hezikiah decided it would be proper to formally announce our wedding since we were not married here in Mainfield.” She squirmed a bit.

“So?”

“Since we married without anyone in Mainfield being present, he wanted to announce it.” She blushed deeper.

Chase felt the unmistakable bite of sorrow and raw grief pour over him. He grieved for the loss of something precious that he must have treasured, and he grieved for himself because he could not remember the special moment of marrying Linese. Suddenly the need to remember the Colt and gold and what had gone on with the mayor paled beside his anguish at not remembering his wedding day.

“Read me what he wrote.” His voice sounded hard and flinty to his own ears. Chase nearly choked on the bitter fact that the only way he would learn about their wedding was through a pitiful two-year-old account written by an aging bachelor who was not even present.

Linese cleared her throat and began to read. “‘Chase Cordell, grandson of Texas Ranger Captain Cordell, surprised the citizens of Mainfield by bringing home a bride. The former Miss Linese Beaufort, of Ferrin County, will be residing at the family home, Cordellane. Mr. Cordell, a Unionist, has joined the Northern army….’” Her voice trailed off and she looked up at him with a beseeching look on her face.

“Is that all?” Hearing the dispassionate article filled with nothing more than hard, cold facts left a hollow ache inside Chase. He longed to know everything that involved Linese.

She sighed and avoided his searching gaze. “Only some silly reference about you missing from Mainfield two weeks prior to our wedding, and how people were speculating about what—or who—had kept you away from Main-field.”

Chase’s brows shot up when he grasped the implication. “Is it the general opinion of Mainfield that you bewitched me and held me prisoner?” He sloshed another portion of brandy into the glass and cursed his missing memory.

“As I recall, it was the other way around.” She said with a tremulous smile. “You most certainly took me captive, as you well know. There are still ladies in Tyron County who are disappointed that their most eligible bachelor up and married a girl from another county.” She blushed bright red at the confession.

She dipped her head and avoided his gaze. This brave, delicate creature, who had the misfortune of being joined to him by marriage, gave him a moment of unexpected happiness. He found himself smiling while he succumbed to the urge to run his fingers down the side of her face.

She trembled visibly beneath his feather-light touch. It buffeted him, the way she closed her eyes like a house cat and leaned into his tentative caress. A hard, hot vortex of desire swirled inside his gut and threatened to uncoil like a roused water moccasin.

“Tell me what you recall, Linese.” His request was a throaty growl. “How do you remember our meeting?”

Her eyes widened and she smiled up at him. It was a timid expression, one of love and memory, one he could only share through her recollections, since the damnable loss of his memory had robbed him of the past.

Her smile became wistful and full of feeling. “You swept through the door of the Presbyterian church like a blue norther. The women whispered about who you were and where you had come from. I remember thinking you were probably a riverboat pirate on the run from the law.” She laughed softly under her breath, but Chase wondered if she was closer to the truth than either of them knew.

Had he been running from the law? Is that what had driven him to join the army? Had he chosen a slightly honorable way to retreat from the consequences of some terrible act? Is that what compelled him to leave this precious female to care for his feeble grandfather and fend for herself in a harsh climate of hostility? He clenched his jaw against the thought and realized if that were the case, then he hated the man he had been.

“You near shocked the Presbyterian minister to death when you—when you said what you did….” She was still speaking softly, lost in her world of memory and emotion.

“And what shocking thing was that?” he asked while he allowed his eyes to skim over her face.

“You said I was the one. You said I was the girl you’d been waiting for and you were going to make me your wife.”

He could almost visualize it. It was not a memory, nothing as clear and firm as that, but he could picture the scene in his mind.

She would have been standing by the wall with her eyes shyly diverted, like the lady she was. He probably had mud spattered on his breeches from hard riding, and God knows what other wicked deed. Linese would have blushed slightly, like she was now, when he spoke directly to her. He could understand how he wanted her, but to his great hopelessness he couldn’t remember it.

There was a hunger eating at his soul while he watched her. Something was happening to him. He was being consumed by more than just the need to remember his past. Whatever powerful thing wrapped itself around him, it revolved around Linese.

Chase felt deprived, starved. He longed to slake his starvation with the taste of Linese’s sweet lips, to sate his appetite with her love.

“Did I shock you, Miss Linese Beaufort?” The name she had revealed to him from the
Gazette
rolled off his tongue like warm honey. He liked the way it sounded. It almost had a flavor, like rich Creole cooking, like Linese herself. She was unique, sweet with a little spice that made a man hungry for more and more.

His hand still rested against the curve of her jaw. She rubbed against his fingers. “No, you didn’t shock me. You intrigued me.” She looked straight into his eyes. “I loved you from the first moment I saw you.”

The heartfelt admission hit Chase like a fist. She had loved him then, probably loved him now, but would she find him so desirable if she knew the secret he kept from her or the dark mystery hidden in his past?

E
motion ripped at Chase.

He reached for the glass of brandy and finished it off in one gulp. Each time Linese looked at him with that loving, trusting expression clouding her eyes, it shredded his in-sides. He couldn’t stand it anymore.

“It’s late, Linese. You should go to bed.” The terse sound of his voice fell a little shy of being a command.

She pierced him with a cool gaze. “I think I will sit with you awhile longer. If you don’t mind.” Her refusal was just short of outright disobedience. He scanned her face and saw defiance and passion written there.

He sighed and slumped back in his chair in sheer defeat. She wasn’t going to make it easy on him. This sweet belle had iron beneath her silken exterior.

No submissive shrinking violet sat at his feet, no matter how it might have looked to an outside observer.

If he wanted to be away from her as much as he kept telling himself that he did, all he need do was rise from the chair and leave the room. It was just that easy, and just that complicated.

“Read to me some more then….” he said gruffly. “Since you are going to stay.” Perhaps the key to his past was hidden in the old copies of newspaper. At least if he concentrated on the words, maybe he could think about something besides her soft mouth and sensuous eyes.

Linese felt as if she had won a tiny battle of wills in the past few minutes. Chase had not stalked away from her, as she half expected him to, when she did not give in to his demand. It was a small start, but enough to give her encouragement. Her hand was trembling slightly with excitement, and hope, when she picked up the paper and started to read.

Chase listened to the accounts of war and sporadic news about himself that he had apparently provided in letters home, but no memory emerged. He was still lost and confused and becoming more frustrated with each passing minute. Linese paused in her reading and he found himself oddly disappointed.

“Are you finished?” His tone was sharp with the pain of wanting her.

She turned to look at him. Her searching eyes had the same effect on him as being pierced by an enemy bayonet.

“Yes, Chase, I’m finished.” Her voice held a faint tone of frustration, or he chose to think it did.

She stood up and shook out her skirt. He caught a whiff of female warmth and the lingering trace of flower blossoms that seemed to surround her.

Perhaps it was the brandy—maybe it was his madness—but he reached out and jerked her onto his lap. She settled onto his thighs with a soft swish of fabric. The weight of her bottom against his legs sent an explosion of desire through him.

“You smell nice,” he murmured. He tilted his head back in order to see her face, now only a few inches above his own, and sighed in restless contentment.

“Chase, you’ve been away so long….” She sighed. “I missed you.”

Chase felt his soul being ripped in half. He wanted to try to find the words to explain his erratic behavior, even though he knew he could never explain what he had become, what he could never be again.

“Don’t, Linese, don’t talk.” He knew what he was doing was wrong, but he chose to deny it.

She bit her bottom lip and blinked rapidly.

It was his undoing.

He pulled her face down to him and claimed her lips. They tasted like clear spring water. She was not heady and robust like Creole cooking, not as he thought she would be. She was more pure, like life-giving nectar to a dying man.

Her body was somehow soft and familiar in an odd, dreamlike way. It gave Chase hope that perhaps if he explored her and the life he had led, maybe some tiny piece of his memory would return. At least that is what he told himself as he allowed his mouth to linger on hers while crushing her to him.

She moaned softly.

He realized that he was holding her in a most intimate fashion. One hand was sprawled across her bosom. The warm fullness of her breast excited him and he grew bolder. Chase devoured her lips as hunger and brandy-induced daring spurred him on. He kissed her savagely and allowed his body to respond to her. When he released her mouth, she nuzzled into his neck.

“Chase, let’s go to our room.”

Her words had the same effect on him as falling into a winter river would have. His ardor chilled in his veins like shards of ice.

He stood up, practically dumping her on the floor in the process. “Go to bed, Linese.” His voice was even more harsh than it had been minutes before. “I’m going out for some air. Just—just go to bed.”

He turned and stumbled out into the hot Texas night. He felt the burden of his own guilt and the sting of Linese’s eyes on his back with every limping step.

Chase watched the big round-faced clock’s pendulum tick away the minutes toward noon. A fly persistently kept annoying him. He slapped it absently, wondering for the fifth time in as many minutes when, or if, Hezikiah went home
for dinner. Surely the man had to eat—Lord knows it didn’t seem as if he ever slept.

He glanced over at the printer in annoyance and saw him making no effort to cease his labors. Chase had been waiting for Hezikiah to leave him alone so he could experiment with the machinery, to see if he could figure it out.

Chase was fairly sure he had the basics, but unless he tried it he would never know.

Frustrated with Hezikiah’s lack of interest in the noon hour and leaving the
Gazette,
Chase rose from the desk and stretched out his leg.

His hip wound grew better daily. He was able to move easier, with less stiffness. It pleased him that he was limping less and that he was rapidly regaining his physical strength. He wondered if Linese had noticed, then he chided himself for being so foolish that he wanted her to. He shook his head and the annoying buzz intensified with the movement.

“Going to get some dinner, Major?” Hezikiah’s voice boomed over the steady creak and drone of the big newspaper press.

Chase snapped his head around and looked at Hezi-kiah’s ink-stained visage. Evidently the man did work through the entire day and far into the night. He would find no opportunity to be alone today.

“No—no,” Chase said in disappointment. “Maybe I’ll stroll around Mainfield a bit and reacquaint myself with the town.”

“Good idea. There’ve been a passel of changes since you left. You’ll scarce recognize the town.”

“I imagine you’re right about that,” Chase replied under his breath.

Chase squinted against the bright noon sun when he stepped outside the newspaper office. In defense of the unrelenting rays, he pointed his face in the opposite direction and started walking. He had no particular destination in
mind, and the annoying ringing in his ears kept him company.

Several store owners spoke to Chase and remarked on the weather and the events of the war while they turned the signs on their front doors over to read Closed. Chase soon found himself nearly alone in the town at midday. It gave him a measure of freedom, walking through Mainfield while everyone was at home eating. He could stop and stare at sights that would normally cause others to look at him curiously. It was a constant worry, that he would make some foolish remark about something that he should have known since he had grown up in Mainfield. He was on guard every minute.

While he walked, he studied each building, tree and house. He sifted through his brain for a memory, but none came. Since his return, he had remembered little besides the mayor’s face and his haunting words, but that dim recollection gave him hope that he might find more.

Chase walked to the wide square and sat down on one of the benches under a large spreading oak among a sprinkling of spring’s first flowers. It was so hard to believe, sitting in the quiet square, that only weeks ago he had been on a bloody battlefield. He scanned the empty walks and tried to see the town through dispassionate eyes.

It was a pretty place, with well laid out lots and plenty of trees for shade. But it meant nothing to him. No feeling of belonging or roots was in him while he looked at Main-field.

His eyes came to rest on the
Gazette
office. An invisible clock seemed to be ticking in his head. He was running out of time. The mayor and his friends had made it plain they wanted Hezikiah out as soon as possible. Chase had no idea what hold they had over him, but he had not missed the implied threat in their words. He had to hurry, even if he didn’t know what secret they kept. Just knowing they had one was an effective incentive to probe deeper into his faulty brain and try to grab hold of one solid piece of memory.

If he could get Hezikiah out without arousing suspicion and if he could relearn the complicated machinery, and if he could bring himself to start writing editorials that condoned profit at any price…

It was a lot of
ifs.
Still, what choice did he have? Wallace, Kerney and the rest of those coyotes were biding their time. He had to do what the men asked in order to keep his secret and protect Linese.

For the first time, Chase realized that he did want to protect her, more than he wanted to save himself.

The passion he had felt sweep over him last night left him aching with raw need. She had a way about her, an ability to make him forget his resolve and his caution. Bittersweet mixtures of emotion swirled through his chest while he recalled the moments he had spent with her in the library.

He had forced her from their bed, yet last night he had kissed her and allowed himself to come dangerously close to doing more. Much, much more. If she had not spoken, Chase realized, he might have forgotten himself completely.

She was a fine woman and she deserved better than to have Chase treat her warmly one minute, then coldly the next. She also deserved more than to give herself to a man who had returned as little more than a shadow of the person she had married.

“What kind of man am I?” he asked. Chase was beginning to think the answer to that question was one he wouldn’t like.

The strange association with Kerney, the pistol and gold Ira Goten gave him, even the account of how he proposed to Linese, all made him sound like a man who lived fast and loose. The image he was seeing of his past self was not a flattering one.

Chase sighed and lolled his head back on the hard bench. The ringing in his ears seemed to have lessened a bit and he savored the minutes of peace.

A flash in a store window across the street drew his attention. He moved his head a little to one side and watched the sun strike an object and ripple over it like the reflection of a mirror. Curiosity brought him from the bench and across the quiet dusty street. He approached the store window where he had seen the metallic rainbow, and looked inside.

It was a cameo. Rich gold filigree and delicate pearls surrounded the exquisitely carved silhouette. The feminine cream-carved face rested against a soft rose-colored stone background. Fragile features and fine wisps of hair framed the classic profile of the woman captured in stone.

He tilted his head and looked at the jewelry from another angle. “Linese,” Chase muttered. Yes, it did remind him of her. It was feminine and refined, beautiful and exquisite. Much like the woman who had the misfortune to be married to him.

Suddenly Chase had the overwhelming urge to give it to her. He shoved his hand inside his pockets and touched the hated gold coins from his past. Some deep, forgotten knowledge told him it was blood money. He could not even bring himself to look closely at the coins. He kept them hidden in the darkness of his trouser pocket, much like the dark secret he kept hidden about himself. If he could get rid of them and do something for Linese in the process, he would consider it a double blessing.

A man of small stature, with thick chin whiskers, paused and glanced curiously at Chase before he stepped around him to unlock the door to the jewelry shop. Chase closed his fist around the coins and entered right behind the little man.

The carpet was threadbare in places, but the color was still vibrant and spoke of a more prosperous time before the war.

“May I help you?” The little man looked up at him and smiled doubtfully.

“Yes, I’d like to buy the cameo in the front window, please.”

The man’s eyes widened in obvious surprise. He recovered quickly, but Chase could see by his initial unguarded reaction that business had been slow. The prospect of hard cash made the shop hum with the salesman’s anticipation.

Chase watched him cross the store and open the back glass of the window. The cameo had been there for a while, and he blew a thin layer of dust from its face when he thought Chase wasn’t watching.

“It’s a fine piece. Italian. Hand-wrought gold. I had it brought in before the hostilities broke out,” he explained proudly.

Chase ran his fingers over the row of tiny pearls at the medallion’s edge. It would look beautiful lying against Linese’s flawless skin. He glanced at the price tag. He was sure the gold coins would cover the cost, and the thought of being free of them filled him with an inner peace.

“Could you wrap it?”

The little jeweler blinked a couple of times. “Uh, I hope you won’t think me impolite, sir, but since the war, you know.” The little man turned his hands palm up, as if in apology for the hard times he had been forced to endure.

Chase shoved his hand into his pocket and brought out the gold coins. He dropped them into the little man’s outstretched palm without looking and continued to examine the cameo, visualizing how it would look on Linese.

The jeweler held one coin to the light and examined it more closely. Evidently satisfied, his face broke into a smile. “If you will wait, sir, I have a box in the back.”

Chase told himself this impulsive act was more to free himself of the money, but deep down inside, he knew he wanted to give Linese a token of his growing feelings. It was the least he could do since he and the war had taken her life and smashed it to pieces. He would like to have given her a life filled with love and children, but he knew he would have to settle for giving her this small bit of gold and stone instead.