The Ballad of Emma O'Toole (17 page)

Emma groped for his hand. His fingers tightened painfully around hers. “I was the one who found her where she’d crawled. Her
clothes were torn, her legs bloodied. I carried her home to our mother, who bathed her and put her to bed. She was hysterical at first, but after a while she stopped crying and went to sleep.”

Emma could feel him trembling. Where her head lay against his chest, she could hear the pounding of his heart. “You told me your sister died,” she said, remembering.

He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “The next morning I woke up to the sound of my mother screaming. Sometime in the night, Angelique had hanged herself from a crossbeam in her room.”

“Oh, Logan…”

His jaw tightened. “All I could think of was killing Leclerc, but I didn’t want to be hanged for it. I challenged him to a duel with knives. He was to meet me at midnight, with his second, under the Dauphine Street Bridge. A friend of mine had agreed to be my second, but when he didn’t show up, I went alone. That was my mistake.”

“Why didn’t your friend come?”

“I never found out. Given what happened next, I’m guessing he was stopped somehow.

“I went to the bridge. Leclerc was there with his younger brother Marcel, a lying little scalawag I’d never liked. I should’ve known
even then that I was in trouble, but all I could think of was my sister and how she’d looked that morning with her sad little feet dangling above the floor…”

Logan was silent for a few breaths. Sapwood crackled in the stove; rain drummed its fury on the windows. “Leclerc was older than I was and more experienced. Worse, I was fighting hot-blooded, never a good thing. It wasn’t long before I realized I was losing—and even if I got the better of Leclerc, Marcel would likely jump in to rescue his brother and finish me off.

“Leclerc backed me against a wall under the bridge. I had nowhere to go. All I could do was hold my knife in front of me. As he moved in for the kill I caught a glimpse of Marcel on one side of him. In the next instant, Leclerc stumbled forward. He fell onto my blade.

“The next thing I knew, he was lying dead on the ground. Marcel snatched up his brother’s knife and ran away, screaming ‘Help! Murder!’”

Emma stared up at him. “You’re saying Marcel tripped his own brother, maybe even pushed him into your knife?”

“Henri Leclerc was the heir, the favored son. Now everything would go to Marcel, and Henri’s death would be blamed on me. I can just
imagine what the little rat made up to tell the police. The governor’s nephew—they would’ve believed every blessed word that came out of his mouth. I had no choice except to run.”

“But Marcel saved your life.”

“He did. But only because he needed me to take the blame for killing his brother. Once he disposed of Henri’s knife, he could claim Henri was unarmed and that I’d murdered him. I’d be forced to run or hang, and he’d be in the clear.” Logan chuckled grimly. “Ironic, isn’t it? As far as I know Marcel’s still living off the family fortune, fat and prosperous.”

“And you had to fake your own death, change your name and run.”

His arms tightened, cradling her close. “I’m tired of running, Emma. It’s time I took a stand.”

Her heart stalled. “But the risk—”

“I’m a gambler, sweetheart. This time, what I have to lose is worth any risk.”

He bent his head to capture her lips in a lingering kiss. Emma melted against him, feeling the heat of that kiss ripple to the depths of her body. There were no more evasions, no more lies between them, only complete trust. If only she could stop time and stay just like
this, with Logan safe beside her and the future walled outside.

But the danger of losing him was greater now than ever.

He released her gently, all business now. “First we have to do something about Armitage. What he’s attempting is extortion. That’s against the law.”

“But if we try to have him arrested your secret will be out. Armitage knows that. That’s why he’s so cocksure.”

“Then we’ll have to find something else we can use against him. He can’t be all that clean. There’s got to be something that would send him to jail or ruin his reputation.”

“He wants my answer tomorrow afternoon. Five thousand dollars will hold him off for another month. I can certainly spare that much.”

Logan’s response was a protective growl. “I won’t have you giving him another cent of your money. If it comes to that, I’ll pay the little bastard myself. But you’re to have no more dealings with him, hear?”

Emma sighed. “We can’t trust him you know. Once he has the money, he’ll do whatever he wants.”

“All the more reason to work fast.” He paused, thinking. “A reporter can uncover a
lot of dirty secrets. What if we’re not the only ones he’s blackmailing?”

Suddenly Emma remembered. “Logan, I saw him! It was a couple of weeks ago, in that alley next to the bank. He was taking an envelope from Phineas Barton, the bank president. Barton was cursing him, and I overhead Armitage say something about coming around again next month.”

“Barton?” Logan whistled in disbelief. “He’s one of the most respected men in town, and rich to boot. If he has something to hide—”

“He’d have his own reason to bring down Armitage. Do you think he’d help us?”

“Maybe. I’ve come to know him a little. I’ll drop by the bank first thing tomorrow. Hopefully I’ll be able to talk with him alone.”

“If I can help—”

“No.” Logan shook his head. “Armitage is my problem, and I’ll be the one to handle him. As for now…” He bent and kissed her again, with a sensual hunger that triggered spasms of heat in the core of Emma’s body. “I think it’s time we got some sleep,” he muttered thickly. “My apologies for the narrowness of the bed.”

She laughed as he lifted her in his arms. “Something tells me we’ll fit just fine.”

After Emma had fallen asleep, Logan lay propped on one elbow, watching the play of shadows on her beautiful face. Their lovemaking had been an affirmation of all that was good and true between them, with no lies or barriers of distrust. The awful secret he’d kept from her was in the open now—and the wonder of it was she still cared for him.

This new vulnerability would take some getting used to. But it felt damned good—as if walking out of a cage into the fresh air.

He thought of the courage it had taken for Emma to come and warn him, and the love it had taken for her to forgive him. She was an extraordinary woman, his Emma. But she’d done enough. This was his battle to fight, and he wanted her safe.

In the morning, at first light, he would send her home with orders to stay there. Then it would be time for him to confront the demons of his past—and Hector Armitage.

Morning came all too soon. It was barely light when Logan saddled Emma’s horse and brought it around to the door of the mine office. Emma willed herself not to weep. Last night after they’d made love, she’d wondered
if it would be their last time. In the dangerous hours ahead, anything could happen. She could lose him in a heartbeat, just as she’d lost Billy John.

Could she be carrying Logan’s child? With the loss of her baby so recent, and given the time they’d spent apart, it didn’t seem likely. But if it had happened she would welcome the news with joy. A little boy or girl with Logan’s burning black eyes and quirky smile. What a miracle…

But now it was time to ride for home.

“It’s not too late,” she said. “I could pay Armitage enough to buy you more time.”

“It would be wasted money, love. He’d betray you as soon as the cash was in his hand.”

“But—”

He stifled her protest with a firm kiss. “No. That little muckraker is not going to make me run. This ends today.”

His words terrified her. She seized his arm. “Come home with me, at least. I’ll make you breakfast.”

“Not this morning.” He eased her away. “I plan to go into town and behave as if I hadn’t been warned. Armitage may suspect differently, but as long as there’s no sign we’ve been
together, he won’t know for sure. If it gives me any advantage at all…”

His voice trailed off as he reached into his vest and withdrew the derringer he carried when he gambled. As far as Emma knew, it was the only gun he owned. “Keep this with you,” he said. “When you get home, lock the door and don’t open it for anybody. If someone tries to force their way in, shoot them.”

“Don’t be silly.” She thrust his extended hand back toward him. “You need this more than I do. I’ll be just fine.”

“Take it!” he growled. “I’ll send word or come to you when I have news. Meanwhile, I need to know you’re safe.” He bent close to show her the workings of the tiny pistol. “It’s loaded. All you have to do is cock it like this, point it and pull the trigger. All right?”

He released the hammer and pressed the gun into Emma’s palm. This time she wrapped it in her handkerchief and tucked it into the pocket of her skirt, hoping fervently she wouldn’t have reason to use it.

“Now let’s get you out of here while it’s still early.” He caught her waist and jerked her against him. His lips commandeered hers in a bone-melting kiss. Emma surrendered her soul to that kiss, memorizing the cool firmness of
his lips, the roughness of his unshaven chin, the strength of his arms and the solid contours of his body. She kissed him as if it were for the last time.

He eased away from her. “I love you, Emma.” His voice rasped with emotion. “Never forget that.”

“And I love you.” She flung herself at him, kissed him with desperate fury, then turned and fled toward the horse. Without daring to look back, she nudged the animal to a trot, letting the breeze dry her tears.

Freshly barbered and dressed for business in a tie and jacket, Logan walked into the bank at five minutes after ten. As an excuse for being there, he had a packet of yesterday’s winnings to deposit in his account. He’d had decent luck at the tables but was still only about halfway to what he needed for the pump installation. The money could have been handy for getting out of town before Armitage could spread his latest story. But Logan had meant it when he’d told Emma he was through running. A few months ago he would’ve been on the next departing train. But now he had something to fight for—a life with Emma and a secure future for their family.

The immediate threat was Hector Armitage. But sooner or later he would also need to settle the mess he’d left behind in New Orleans. He would hire the best lawyer he could find to prove that Henri Leclerc had died in a duel, with his own brother shoving him through the gates of hell.

And if it couldn’t be proven…Logan willed himself to dismiss the thought. He could always take Emma and go to Europe or South America, where he could eke out a living as a gambler. But that wasn’t what he wanted. It would be too much like running scared.

As the bank clerk tallied his deposit, Logan’s eyes shifted toward the offices at the rear of the bank. Phineas Barton’s door was ajar.

“I need to see Mr. Barton,” he said to the clerk. “It’s quite urgent. Would you tell him I’m here?”

“I’ll see if he’s available.” The young clerk stepped away from the cage and into his employer’s office. Logan’s palms felt cold and damp. What if Barton wouldn’t see him? Would he have to force his way into the man’s presence?

“He’ll see you now. Go on in.” Logan felt a surge of relief as the clerk opened a metal gate.

“Have a chair, Devereaux. What can I do
for you?” Phineas Barton was in his fifties, tall and dignified, with a thatch of well-tended gray hair. He looked to be exactly what he was, a prosperous and powerful man with a sterling reputation in the community.

A man with everything to lose.

Logan closed the office door behind him and then seated himself on the near side of the vast walnut desk. Should he start with small talk or go directly to the point of his visit? If the banker didn’t like what he heard, Logan knew he would lose a valuable business ally. But right now that was the least of his worries.

“So I see you’ve decided your mine’s worth saving.” Barton spoke into the silence between them.

“It’s worth a try, at least. When I’ve earned enough for a pump, I’ll be back in business. Meanwhile, I intend to keep up the payments on my loan. You’ve no need to worry on that account.”

“Is that why you’re here today? My clerk said your business was urgent.”

“It is, but it has nothing to do with the mine. It’s personal, and it concerns you as well as me.”

The banker’s eyebrows shot up. “I don’t understand.”

“I apologize in advance if I’m out of line,” Logan began. “A couple of weeks ago my wife saw something that led her to suspect you were being blackmailed.”

Barton’s face had gone ashen. “That’s the most ridiculous bit of nonsense I’ve ever heard!” he sputtered. “What would make your wife suspect such a thing?”

“She saw you in the alley, giving an envelope to a man she knew. You were overheard cursing him.”

“Whatever your wife saw, it wasn’t any of her concern. Say I
was
being blackmailed. Why should that be any of your business?”

“Because the same man is trying to blackmail me.”

“Hector Armitage.”
Barton’s shoulders sagged, confirming everything. “What’s the little bastard got on you?”

“Nothing I say will leave this room?”

“Of course not. You have my word.”

“Seven years ago I fought a duel that ended in the death of the man who ruined my sister.” Logan gave a quick summary of the story he’d told Emma last night. “Since I married Emma, I’ve tried to settle down and build a stable life. But now…” Logan shook his head.

“At least you were innocent.”

“That doesn’t make much difference if I can’t prove it. The evidence was against me—that’s why I ran at the time. Armitage did some digging, and now he’s threatening to expose me. I’m hoping that, if you and I can corroborate each other’s stories, we can threaten to report him.”

“I’m sorry.” Barton looked old and tired. “I’d like to help you, but I can’t.”

“You can’t or you won’t?”

“Armitage has been bleeding me dry for the past three years. What he knows could cost me my family, my reputation, everything I hold dear. I can’t risk it, Devereaux.”

“But if we could stop him—”