Tarnished Angel (61 page)

    "Just before I left the house. He's very much better, you know. As a matter of fact, Dr. Hastings thinks he'll be on his feet in a few days, and probably back to the office within a week or two."

    Sheriff Bond frowned. "Is that so?"

    "Yes, that's so. And he'll be very disappointed if I return to tell him that you've refused to allow me to see Mr. Morrison."

    "I guess you're right, ma'am."

    Devina saw victory in sight. "So, if you'll let me in… I'm in a bit of a hurry. Father is expecting me home in time for dinner."

    Sheriff Bond hesitated a moment longer. "All right, ma'am."

    Anxiety flickered through her as Devina stepped through the office door into the barred area behind. She approached the tall, dark-haired man in the last cell slowly. The coldness in his eyes chilled her.

    "All right, Miss Dale. Five minutes, that's all."

    Devina turned with an abrupt snap. "Let me into the cell, Sheriff."

    Sheriff Bond's narrow, mustached face registered surprise. "Ma'am, that wouldn't be too smart. This here is a dangerous man."

    "Not as dangerous as he was during the time I spent in the cabin as his prisoner, Sheriff. I wish to have Mr. Morrison see that I have no fear whatever of him."

    "Just the same, ma'am, I'm
thinkin
'"

    "I'm not really interested in what you're thinking, Sheriff." Devina could feel the heat rising to her cheeks. She had no intention of talking to Ross with iron bars separating them. "Open the door, please. I have no objection to your locking me in for those five minutes you spoke of."

    "Ma'am"

    "I'm in a hurry, Sheriff."

    Stepping forward with an annoyed twist of his lips, Sheriff Bond directed a muttered statement to Ross as he inserted the key into the lock. "I'm
beginnin
' to wonder just who we rescued from who yesterday."

    But Devina was not amused. She held Ross's intense gaze as she walked past the irritated sheriff and into the cell. The door closed behind her. She heard the key again grate in the lock. Sheriff Bond was making a fast retreat when Ross spoke for the first time.

    "Well, I see the old Devina Dale has returned." Ross's voice was filled with contempt. "I would've recognized her anywhere."

    His scorn cutting her deeply, Devina suddenly realized that the act she had just put on for Sheriff Bond's benefit was the sham she had lived most of her life. The realization was another rude awakening. "I suppose you would, Ross, although that person is a stranger to me now."

    Ross's brows rose in mock surprise. "Really, Devina? Did our interlude affect you so deeply?"

    Devina dropped her eyes momentarily, her gaze touching on the odd manner in which his arm hung at his side. Her eyes went back to his. "What's wrong with your arm?"

    Ross gave a low snort. "You have a short memory."

    Devina's face whitened. "I didn't realize… You were going to fight all those men. You would've been killed, and…"

    "You were trying to save me, is that it? Or were you afraid that maybe Charles Carter or your father might be hurt if there was shooting?" When she shook her head in denial, Ross made a low sound of disgust. "What's the matter, Devina, isn't it enough satisfaction for you to see me here in jail, where I belong? Isn't it enough for you to know that a Dale came out on top again, that my threats and my plans amounted to nothing? What else do you want? Do you want me to tell you I meant all    those things I said to you about making you forget Carter, about not giving you up? Well, I don't have much choice about it. You saw to that. That swipe with the poker came out of the blue, you know that? I wasn't expecting it or anything like it from you, not for a minute. I was so sure…" Ross paused, his eyes moving hotly over her face. A smile flicked across his lips. "But do you want to know something else? It wasn't as hard as I thought to face the fact that you took me in. But if you're wondering if you left your mark on me, Devina, I'll tell you, you sure enough did. It's right here on my arm, and it hurts like hell."

    Devina was cut by Ross's devastating words, but she was determined not to allow him to know their full impact. "Is your arm broken?"

    "You didn't do that good a job."

    Devina was stunned to note that his eyes were filled with hate. Had she truly seen love reflected there? She supposed there was finally truth between them now, a truth unclouded by the heated emotions raised when they came together. But that truth wasn't complete. She hadn't told Ross that she still wanted him more than she had ever wanted any man.

    She saw that Ross was waiting for her to make the next move, but she couldn't tell him any of those things. He didn't want to hear them, and she would not be able to stand it if he laughed.

    "About Charles…"

    Ross's eyes went cold. "I don't want to hear about Carter."

    "He regrets everything that happened."

    "I told you"

    "There's nothing between Charles and me, Ross."

    Ross's chest was heaving with a new agitation. "You forget, I was there when you ran out of that shack and into his arms. I saw the relief on his face, the way he held you. Did you bother to tell Carter there's nothing between you? It might come as a shock to him." Ross laughed coldly. "Maybe when you marry Carter I'll be getting an even sweeter revenge than I ever expected."

    "Ross, I"

    "Save it! I've heard enough."

    Devina moved closer to him. Ross was hurting, aching in more ways than the physical, and she wanted desperately to soothe his pain. She wanted him to know that she knew everything he had told her about her father was true and that she was sorry.

    Ross's breathing was ragged, his voice low and grating. "What else do you want, damn you? Haven't you had enough?

    Why don't you leave?" Grasping her arm, he rasped heatedly. "Is this what you're waiting for?"

    Unexpectedly, Ross pulled her tight against him, his mouth crushing hers. He kissed her heatedly, viciously, his mouth grinding into hers, his lips forcing hers apart. His tongue conquered her mouth, but there was no joy, no love in the familiar intimacy. Tears were hot beneath her eyelids, but she forced them back. She would not cry. She had revealed enough of herself. She would not take that final step to humiliation.

    Abruptly she was free, thrust back from Ross with contempt.

    "Now you've had all you can get from me, Devina. Time to go home. You said you were in a rush, didn't you?"

    Ross raised his head, focusing his concentration on the outer door. "Sheriff, the lady's five minutes are up!"

    Booted feet were approaching the cell when Devina turned away from Ross's unsmiling face. Her back to him, she waited stiffly as the sheriff unlocked the cell door, then left without speaking. She had walked through the office and outside before the finality of Ross's words touched her. She had never thought it would end this way.

    Devina hurried toward Fourth Street, attempting to avoid the gaze of a man approaching from the opposite direction. Her eyes glanced off his face, returning a moment later with startled recognition. The fair-skinned fellow stopped, his pale eyes holding hers, the freckles on his cheeks standing out darkly as his face drained of color. She remembered those pale eyes moving between Ross and herself in the prospector's shack, the discomfort they evidenced at Ross's harsh treatment of her. She remembered Ross's annoyance at the soft words this man had spoken in her behalf. She remembered being startled by the concern and affection Ross showed for him, an affection that was openly returned.

    Devina raised her chin. With slow deliberation she turned away from the pale eyes and resumed her step. The breathless silence over, she left the man standing, still unmoving, behind her.

Chapter XXII

  Devina raised her hand to her hair in an effort to tuck a stubborn curl back into place, but her trembling fingers would not cooperate. Lord, how would she get through this morning? Her eyes touched on the small, concerned face peeking over her shoulder into the mirror. "Don't worry, Lai Hua. I'm all right. Please hand me my hat."

    A month had passed since she had been rescued, and Devina was aware that Lai Hua considered the part she had unwittingly played in the abduction a blemish on her personal honor. Devina's reassurances had done little good. She supposed that scar would have to heal in its own way.

    Devina accepted the hat from Lai Hua. It was a concoction of white lace, silk violets, and jeweled butterflies, a ridiculous confection she had purchased for an extravagant sum just before leaving New York. She remembered she had commented that it was the perfect accessory for the pale orchid gown she now wore, that the violets matched perfectly the embroidered flowers that adorned the bodice and short sleeves of the garment, that the lace was almost an exact duplicate of the trim that bordered the rather deep neckline and edged the neatly tucked waistline.

    Devina placed the hat on her head. Hat. The former Devina Dale would not have deigned to refer to this extravagant headpiece as a hat. It would have been her
chapeau
. But it was just a hat to her now, and the stylish ensemble she wore was merely a way to disguise the anxiety that made her tremble.

A certain light-headedness and weakness assailed her. For a moment she doubted she would have the courage to walk to the courthouse and listen to the judge pronounce sentence on Ross.

    
Guilty
. Ross had been found guilty of all charges against him, including armed robbery and kidnapping.

    She supposed it made little difference that Ross had refused Charles's offers of help. The lawyer who had defended him had been adequate. Ross was, after all, guilty. He had not denied the charges.

    Ross had appeared to be unaffected by the fact that she had been called to testify against him. She had not been able to ignore the summons. His expression had been hard, cold, when she had testified to the specifics of the kidnapping, and she thought she had read contempt in his eyes as she had carefully avoided any other comments as to the time they had spent together. She had held her head high, allowing the spectators to draw their own conclusions. She cared little what anyone said or thought.

    She had leaned heavily on Charles for support for the duration of the trial, even knowing Ross read an entirely different meaning into the concern Charles showed for her. But she had had little choice, other than to stand alone in that courtroom, when she was uncertain that she could stand at all.

    Her father had not been able to be there in body, but he had been in that courtroom in spirit. Devina took another deep breath, anger strengthening her. Harvey Dale was regaining his health steadily. His speech was improving, he was able to walk with support, and it appeared he would regain full use of his arm. Devina frowned. Dr. Hastings was uncertain if her father's face would ever completely return to normal. She hoped it would, for his sake. She knew how vain he was.

    Devina did not wish her father ill, but her heart was frozen against him. Had it not been for his greed, Ross would not now be awaiting sentencing for crimes he was forced to commit for the sake of justice. It might have been so different between Ross and her.

    Standing abruptly, she cast a last appraising glance in the mirror. She did not see the exquisite face framed with a wealth of shimmering silver-blond hair, the fragile features accented by the pale, perfect skin, the light shadows under her great silver-blue eyes, or the womanly proportions of her slender frame, fitted to    perfection by the pale orchid gown. Instead, she saw the futility of wishing for something that was gone. She needed to go now, to face the reality of Ross's future.

    With a determined step, Devina walked toward the door, smiling as Lai Hua opened it for her. She touched her maid's arm with affection, saw the tears in her eyes. She had not needed to explain her feelings for Ross to either Charles or Lai Hua. Close as they were to her, she had communicated the depth of those emotions without words, and she had seen-acceptance there. They were friends. But friendship could not fill the void left by love unrequited.

    Devina walked into the hall and started down the staircase, her eyes darting to the front door as Molly opened it in response to a summons. Charles's sober eyes moved immediately in her direction as he stepped over the threshold. He waited solemnly at the foot of the staircase, offering her his arm when she reached the last step. She saw him frown when he noted the trembling she could not seem to control.

    She attempted a smile, only to feel it fade at the sound of her father's voice from his bedroom. He was calling her. Devina quietly asked Lai Hua to respond; she could not face her father this morning. Perhaps later.

    Turning with an unsteady step, Devina walked toward the doorway. She was grateful for Charles's arm, for the strength of his presence.

    Jake waited nervously in the brilliant morning sun, beads of perspiration forming on his fair brow. He stepped into a shadowed doorway and darted a quick glance up Third Street, noting that the curious were beginning to move in a steady stream toward the courthouse across the street. In a few minutes Devina Dale would walk down that street on the arm of Charles Carter, and Jake intended to avoid being seen by either one of them, as he had since the beginning of Ross's trial.

    With a sense of incredulity which would not fade, Jake remembered the startling moment he had come face to face with Devina Dale outside the jailhouse. He remembered her shock at the moment of recognition, and he remembered his own when she turned with great deliberation and continued on her way. He had gone over that moment many times in his mind. The manner in which Devina Dale had withheld condemnation of Ross in her     testimony, carefully stating only the facts of her kidnapping, had confirmed his suspicions. He had seen the emotion that moved between Ross and Devina Dale. It appeared that emotion had not been confined to anger.

    From the back of the courtroom, Jake had glimpsed Ross's face the first day of his trial as his eyes had momentarily strayed toward Devina. Confirmation had been complete, and Jake had shared his friend's pain. He knew from personal experience that it was bad enough when the woman you loved was no longer available to you, but to see your own damned brother taking your place at her side…

    Jake slipped farther back into the doorway. Devina Dale and Charles Carter were approaching. Recognition by Carter, or a sudden change of mind on the part of Devina Dale, would send the sheriff chasing after him, and Jake could not take that chance. He was Ross's last hope for freedom.

    He pulled his hat down farther on his brow. The announcement made today would be crucial. After sentencing the judge would send Ross back to Yuma and provide the only opportunity Jake would ever have of breaking Ross free. They were sure to send a full contingent of guards to escort Ross to Yuma; Harvey Dale would provide the financing from his sickbed, just as he had managed to guide the direction of the trial. Jake wasn't a fool. He knew he didn't stand much chance of freeing Ross, but he also knew he had to take that opportunity or he would never be able to live with himself.

    Jake watched Devina and Charles Carter disappear inside the courthouse. All was clear. He walked cautiously forward.

    Ross rose to his feet with slow deliberation, aware of the breathless expectation of the spectators crowding the courtroom behind him. He flexed the muscles in his shoulders and gritted his teeth against the fury that burned through him as he awaited sentencing. His heated gaze was fixed on the overweight, perspiring judge who leafed through the papers in front of him.

    Ross restrained the urge to glance behind him toward the handsome couple seated in the third row, the seats they had occupied since the beginning of the trial. One glimpse of Devina as she had entered the room had verified that she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. An air of delicacy was now more a part of that beauty than he remembered, but the    effect was an almost ethereal aura, a fragility that, despite his best efforts, stirred a familiar tenderness within him. His beautiful tarnished angel…

    But in that one glimpse, he had also seen Carter's proprietary hand on her arm and the concerned gaze he turned in her direction at her whispered word.