Moonlight Lover (24 page)

"No, only yours." He saw her face darken. She took offense faster than anyone he knew. "Wait, I want you to feel something."

She curled her fingers into her hands and moved them behind her back. Suspicion and uncertainty raised twin heads upon the body of self-doubt. "What?"

Coaxing, but firm, Sin-Jin took her hand from behind her back and guided it to his chest. It thudded against him, still a fist. He laughed and pried her fingers open. "There. That."

She looked at him curiously, confused. "That?"

"My heart." He pressed her hand more urgently against his chest. "Can you feel it?"

It seemed to be thumping harder than she thought it should. Had she done that? She felt a smile spreading through her. Rachel drew a breath before answering. Yes.

He wanted to cover her heart with his own hand, but he knew that would only earn him a broken crown at the moment. "It's beating just as hard as yours is."

She pulled her hand away, though there was a trace of smugness that slipped through her. "I'll thank you to be leaving my heart out of this."

Sin-Jin shook his head. "I'm afraid it's passed that point."

Damn him for knowing. Damn him for being right. She
didn't want to admit it. Not yet. Perhaps not ever. "I haven't the faintest idea what it is that you're going on about."

He looked into her eyes and she knew the lie was transparent.

"Oh Rachel, Rachel, you're like a caterpillar who can't decide whether to remain a caterpillar or become a butterfly. But what you haven't realized is that you're
going to be a butterfly whether you agree to it or not." He
raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. "It's all predestined, you see."

She rubbed her other hand over her knuckles, as if denying the kiss. Or perhaps, sealing it in. "Not your butterfly, I'm not."

"Yes, my butterfly. That's the part that's predestined." He saw the hesitation in her eyes, the uncertainty. "But you have nothing to be afraid of."

"I'm not afraid," she snapped.

He went on as if she had made no protest, for he knew
better. "I won't be clipping your wings. God only knows
why, but I like you the way you are, sharp tongue, independence and all."

His butterfly.

He was right and she knew it. What was worse, he knew
it. But she didn't have to appear to accept her fate so readily. If he wanted her, he was going to have to put up some sort of a struggle to get her. She wasn't an apple hanging from a tree for the picking. She wasn't about to be taken and used for his pleasure, only to be discarded when he was tired of her. She wouldn't allow that to happen no matter how much she ached for him.

"It's rude to leave the party." Lifting up her skirt, Rachel turned and walked back inside the ballroom, taking her leave as regally as any princess.

Sin-Jin stood out on the balcony a moment, wondering how much more patience she would require of him, how much more he had to give. And how many more words
would have to pass between them before she admitted her
feelings for him after he had all but shouted his for her.

Drawing a long breath, he turned and followed her inside.

Riley had found more than one young woman to entertain himself with. He stood now, near the terrace,
exchanging ideas on widowhood with a recently widowed
woman of barely twenty-three. One Sally Howe who found herself in possession of a large plantation and no likely candidate to immediately fill her husband's place. Riley was situated so that he could see his sister and Sin-Jin re-enter. He immediately saw the troubled look on Rachel's face and read the confusion on Sin-Jin's.

His loyalties were torn. After a moment's deliberation, he excused himself from Mrs. Howe and fell into step beside Sin-Jin.

"A word."

Sin-Jin turned, surprised to be addressed. The mental fog that had overtaken him was great and almost impenetrable. Because it was Riley, he stopped and smiled graciously. "Certainly."

Riley motioned him off to the side so that they could speak without being overheard by a certain gossip. The woman would have enjoyed nothing more than to carry half-truths from ear to willing ear.

"About my sister," Riley began.

Sin-Jin sighed. Was he about to lose Riley's friendship as well? He raised a hand to ward off Riley's words, anticipating their nature. "If you're about to defend her honor, let me reassure you, it's quite intact. The lady all but takes a hunting knife to my heart every time I approach her."

Riley laid a sympathetic hand to the man's shoulder. "It's not Rachel who's concerning me at the moment. It's you.”

Sin-Jin cocked his head slightly, as if that could help him fathom the words more clearly. "Pardon me, but how is that again?"

This might take time. Riley beckoned him over to the punch bowl, the one with a liberal helping of spirits mixed into it. Nothing helped the throat relate stories better, he had found, than a coating of golden whiskey. He poured a cup and handed it to Sin-Jin, then took one for himself.

Braced, Riley began. "I think you should know that my sister holds the British to blame for all our family's misfortunes."

Sin-Jin took a sip of his punch and grimaced slightly. It was four parts whisky to one part punch. He watched Riley drink his without so much as blinking an eye. "I rather gathered that."

Sin-Jin needed the full story to understand, Riley decided. He hated even talking about it, but this was a friend, one he wanted to be in the family. One he felt Rachel needed.

"When she was twelve, Rachel was gathering berries behind the house when she heard our mother scream. Rachel came running in to find the lord of the manor,
Lancaster was his name, trying to rape her." Riley smiled
sadly. "My mother was a very beautiful, fragile woman and Lancaster had long had his eye on her.”

"Lancaster had waited until my father and I were gone,
then he came to collect the overdue rent. One way or another." Riley drained his cup, then took a little more. His face was grim. "Lancaster looked at my sister, laughed and said that she would be next. He told her to wait her turn." He swallowed. "The bastard said that then they would only be two months behind in their rent instead of three." Riley set his mouth grimly as he remembered the rest of the story as Rachel had told him. "Rachel stabbed him in the leg with an iron poker. He bled all over the floor."

Sin-Jin let out a low whistle. As Riley spoke, Sin-Jin could envision it, envision her, a small child of twelve, defending her mother like a tigress. She had spirit even then.

"Lancaster left, vowing revenge. That night, our cottage was set on fire." Riley began to take another sip
of whisky, then set the cup down. Nothing would remove
the taste from his mouth. "With us sleeping in it. Our da managed to save me and Rachel and our little sister. But our mother was lost. She was four months with child at the time." His eyes filled with tears, even though the event was ten years in the past. "Rachel blamed herself for what happened."

"But why—?"

"Lancaster had told her that whatever happened, it was on her head." Riley sighed. "We fled from the manor that night. Neighbors hid us and money was found for passage through the generosity of the parish priest." There was a distant cast in Riley's eyes. "On the voyage over, our da became sick and died, as did Deirdre."

"Deirdre?"

It'd been so long since he had said her name. She was only a memory now. But all the more vivid for that. "Our little sister. She was ten. Rachel nursed them both until I feared she'd come down with the fever herself. Da died first. When Deirdre died, Rachel sat for hours, holding her hand, pleading with her to wake up, to come back." He shuddered, as if trying to shake off the memory. "Broke my heart, she did. Rachel couldn't stop putting the blame on herself. Said if she hadn't stabbed that pig of a man, none of this would have happened."

It didn't sound like reasoning he would expect from Rachel. He reminded himself that she was only twelve at the time. "How could she think that? She was only doing what she thought was right. What was right."

Riley pushed the memory aside and turned his face to the present. "True, but guilt is a horrible thing. It eats at you until there's nothing left inside to give. You being British brings it all back to her. And her burden is that much heavier because she's in love with you." Riley saw the skeptical look on Sin-Jin's face. "Aye, she is. I know Rachel well enough to tell you that. When she says no that loudly, it's yes she means."

Sin-Jin wanted to believe Riley, had harbored the very same hope in his heart. But for some reason, hearing the words aloud raised doubts in his mind.

"The trouble with the situation," Riley continued, "is she doesn't feel that she should be happy, not with everyone else gone. And certainly not with someone who was once a British subject."

Sin-Jin shook his head. Where was he to begin to comfort her, to make her see that it wasn't right to blame herself this way? Or him for something he hadn't done?
How was he to convince her that she deserved a chance at
happiness? That they both did?

"But I can't help where I was born."

Riley decided that a third cup, one just to savor, was in
order. He raised a quizzical brow in Sin-Jin's direction before refilling his empty cup.

"Aye, I know that. But you can go slowly with her." He sighed in contentment as another long sip wound its way to his stomach, warming the path along the way. He wondered if the widow was still unoccupied. And if he would like living on a tobacco plantation.

"And don't walk away." Riley sobered and placed his hand on Sin-Jin's arm for emphasis. "You're the only man alive she hasn't frightened away with that tongue of hers, except for Franklin."

That Sin-Jin could well understand. "It is a weapon at that."

Riley lifted his shoulders and let them drop casually as he looked about for the Widow Howe. "For my money, you're a good match, you are. Your heart is pure and he's taken a liking to you as well." Riley jerked a thumb at Franklin, who was now talking to Mrs. Howe. Charming her out of her stays, no doubt, Riley thought without resentment. He didn't really care for tobacco that much, he decided. "That's the only assurance I need."

"Now the only one I need to convince is Rachel."

Riley laughed. "And I'll be lighting candles for you on that score, bucko. I've always wanted a brother."

Sin-Jin grinned. "Knowing Rachel, her retort to that would be to tell you to adopt me and leave her alone."

Riley threw his head back and roared. "You're getting to know Rachel very well at that, Sin-Jin. Very well indeed."

Not well enough, Sin-Jin thought, still feeling the imprint* of her mouth on his and the ache it generated. Not nearly well enough.

Chapter Twenty-five

Rachel wrapped her fingers around the tall column of the four poster bed that Franklin had slept in during his stay at Sin-Jin's house. She watched as Franklin finished packing. The others were downstairs, waiting.

It was her first visit to the house and she tried not to look as impressed with it as she was. It was a grand house, a wonderful house. Not so grand as theMcKinley manor, perhaps, but it had a personality all its own. Sin-Jin's personality. She felt it everywhere. There seemed to be sunlight in all the rooms. She felt a warmth as soon as she walked past the twin towering Doric columns.

Riley had brought her here for the sole purpose, or so he said, of paying their respects to Franklin. The elder statesman was leaving for Paris again.

"But do you have to leave so soon?" she asked sadly. "You've only been here a short while and now you're going off again. It would hardly seem worth the trouble of getting yourself seasick, you going back again like this."

Franklin closed the two sides of his valise. There wasn't much to pack these days. His needs had gotten a great deal simpler since he was a young man.

"It was worth any amount of trouble. And seasickness." He placed an arm around her slim shoulders and gave her a squeeze. "Seeing you, seeing my friends, has added years to my life. But as you might have guessed, treaties do not wait for the whims of common men."

She returned the affectionate hug. "You were never common."

Franklin released her, only to turn her so that she could face him. "I do like you, Rachel O'Roarke. My only wish is that you were ten years older or I twenty years younger." He winked at her. "Come. I hear Master Sin-Jin has had his cook prepare a feast, and I am near the point of starvation."

With a chuckle, he patted his stomach and led the way down the stairs into Sin-Jin's dining hall.

They shared a last meal together. Rachel had little appetite. She couldn't help wondering if she would ever see the old man again. She tried not to dwell on the fact that he was advanced in years. On the one hand he seemed invulnerable to such things as time and death. On the other, she knew that no one was. She wished that there was some way that he could stay with them here, or at the very least, remain a while longer.

Franklin had dominated the conversation, not because his ego had prompted him to seize the reins from the others, but because the others kept handing the reins to him, delighting in the various insights and homilies that came from his lips.

Franklin paused now, lingering over the wine, his favorite part of the meal. He studied Riley for a long moment before he spoke. "I have a proposition for you, Riley."

The statement, pregnant with promise, caught Riley by surprise. He raised his eyes to look at Franklin through the man's half-glasses. "Yes?"

"Come with me."

The words were so simple, Riley wasn't sure he had heard correctly. He glanced at Sin-Jin and Rachel before saying, "What?"

"Come with me," Franklin urged again, his voice growing in volume as the impulse took seed in fertile soil. "This will be history in the making, our history, and there should be someone to preserve it for us." He leaned forward, the fluted glass in his hand all but forgotten. "I've read you, boy. You've a happy way of phrasing things, a succinct way. Not ponderous, like some." He placed the glass down and then spread his hands on the table for emphasis. "And the children who will come after will have a need to know of these events. History is not history until it is properly recorded. What do you say, Riley?"