Turner's Vision (3 page)

The dim-witted debutante was born!

* * * * *    

Claudia almost laughed when she swept into the parlor. Micah surged to his feet. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought she was society’s raging beauty by the look on his face. But the amazement on Henderson, Joey and Adam’s faces surprised her. She took their astonishment as a compliment. None of them had seen this costume before. If the occasion arose, she would use it again.

“Please be seated, gentlemen. How is Laura, Mr. Turner?” She smiled as she sat on the settee opposite him.

He settled back into the chair, not quite as sure of himself as before. She fought her own amusement.

“When I left her, she, her husband and the children were well, ma’am.”

Claudia blinked, trying to think like she really was a dimwit, but finding her heart touched by Laura’s newfound family instead. “Children. So she had the baby then? All went well?”

“Yes, ma’am. And Master William is about the most pleasant baby I’ve ever had the pleasure of holding.”

“William.” The name slipped out before she could hide the wistfulness in her voice. No, no, the debutante would not become weepy over the mention of children, she reminded herself. She looked up at Henderson. “She sounds very happy.”

“That is good to hear, Miss Claudia.” The older man nodded briefly. “Does she say anything about Nigel Blackwood?”

“Apparently he is dead.”

Both boys let out war whoops.

“The crum is dead!” Joey shouted.

Adam grabbed him by the arm and they danced an impromptu jig. “Yippee!”

Claudia stared at the man across from her. The noise from the boys faded away. Her eyes slowly took in his appearance, starting at his feet in new boots up over the dark suit, barely concealing the powerful thighs beneath the material. His broad chest in the suit coat and the starched white shirt stretched beneath. His bearing appeared relaxed, but power radiated from behind his posture. Her eyes traveled upward, across his strong jaw, and the thick, darker-blond mustache, then up over his Romanesque nose, which bent just slightly as if broken in a fight. Her breath left her when her gaze collided with his intense grey eyes. Her soul stood bare before his gaze. Time seemed to drift all around her. She sensed his strength—and something else—a well-controlled dominance. She inhaled deeply as her pulse quickened.

A cough from the doorway broke the spell. Claudia glanced at Henderson once more. “Did the letter say how Blackwood died, Miss?” he asked.

“No. No, it didn’t.” Her gaze shifted back to the man across from her. This time he didn’t hold her quite so entranced.

Flirt
, she needed to flirt with this man.

She tilted her head to the side, smiling inanely. “Were you there, Mr. Turner?” That sounded silly, even to her own ears.

“Please call me Micah, ma’am. And yes, I was.”

“And?”

He shrugged off her gentle prodding for details. “He is dead ma’am. That’s enough for a lady to know.”

“Sir, I can assure you I will not grow faint or squeamish at the details.” Resentment welled up quickly in Claudia, her character completely forgotten in her anger. “I truly wish to be assured in my own mind that this man is no longer a threat to my friend.”

She met his gaze with a determined one of her own. For a moment she thought he would ignore her request and treat her like some schoolgirl miss.

Finally, he raised one eyebrow at her. “Nathan and I trapped him in an old abandoned mine. We both shot at the same time. Then, to be sure he would never bother Nathan’s family, or anyone else, we dragged his body to a deep shaft, and threw it down.” He paused a moment, and Claudia thought he did so simply for effect. “It was a long time before we heard it hit bottom.”

Claudia gulped hard. She saw both boys staring at Micah in a mixture of awe and admiration. “Well, then,” she said, clearing her throat. The letter seemed to burn her hand.

He nodded toward the letter she held in her lap. “Did Laura tell you why I am here?”

Allow him to take over the investigation.

No, no. She could do this. She let a little girl’s giggle escape her.

When she stood once more, Micah again followed suit.

“Henderson, will you and the boys see to the animals?” She walked over to the mantel and removed the key to the liquor cabinet from the ornate wooden box there. “I would like to speak with Mr. Turner, alone.”

Henderson looked pointedly at the key she held in her hand. “You are sure, Miss?”

“Yes, quite sure.” She knew he questioned her decision to offer liquor to a virtual stranger, more than her decision to question him in private.

The day her father finally went to his bed never to get out, she’d locked away all the whiskey and brandy, along with the terror they’d brought to her. From that moment on, the cabinet remained locked.

“Very well, Miss.” Henderson motioned to the boys, who put up a momentary fuss, until he reminded them that the horses were their responsibilities.

Claudia took out the decanter of whiskey and a large crystal tumbler. She smiled as sweetly as she could over her shoulder at Micah. “Please have a seat, sir. Such manners as yours are rare these days.”

“My mama would be pleased to hear you say that, ma’am,” he drawled, seated once again.

She poured the tumbler half full of dark, amber liquid. Remembering to put a soft sway into her walk, she carried the glass over to him. “How long was your journey to get here from Colorado?”

“With the railroads crossing the country as they have, the trip wasn’t nearly as long as it once was.” He accepted the drink with a wary look on his face.

Claudia bit back a laugh. This was going to be so easy.

Sauntering over to the settee, she let her hips sway even deeper. She turned, imitating the graceful swoop that she’d watched Laura’s cousin perfect over the years of their childhood and fell gracefully onto the settee. Finally, Clara was good for something.

Tilting her head off to one side, Claudia cast as seductive a look as she could imagine at him. “Have you learned anything further about poor Senator Anderson’s demise?”

Micah took a long, slow drink of the whiskey, enjoying the burn as it trailed down his throat to his stomach. He eyed the minx sitting across from him. This wasn’t the same woman who left this room with tears in her eyes to read her friend’s letter. What game did she play at now?

“Perhaps you could tell me what you’ve learned, ma’am,” he countered.

She widened her eyes, resting one hand against her long neck, giggling softly. “Why, sir, I really don’t know anything at all.”

“You wrote Laura that Senator Anderson’s body washed up on the Potomac River shore last spring, didn’t you?”

“Oh, yes. I did mention that little article in the newspaper, didn’t I? How silly of me to forget.” Again she giggled.

Micah took another sip of whisky, enjoying her performance. It had been years since an actress entertained him so well. “What exactly did the article say?”

“Why, I really couldn’t say, sir.” She leaned forward, whispering to him conspiratorially. “It was
such
a long time ago.”

“Please try,” he insisted.

“Well, it talked about how the body that washed up was so badly decomposed they had a hard time identifying him. Except Senator Anderson had that one missing finger from the war between the states, well, they identified him by that.” She closed her eyes, giving a very convincing shudder. “It’s just too gruesome to even think about, sir.”

Fighting hard not to laugh at her performance, Micah arched one brow in her direction. “Did the article mention anything else about Senator Anderson?”

“Oh, just that he was the foreign affairs committee chairman, or some such thing.” She rose and approached him once again. “Some more whiskey, perhaps?”

“If you please.” A past mistake had taught him well the lesson of moderation, but Micah let her bring him another drink. Another chance to watch her round little bottom sashay across the room again was worth holding a full glass for a while.

“Did that terrible man, Blackwood, give you any clue as to why he murdered the poor senator?” She smiled sweetly at him. Her eyes, the exact color of the amber liquid in the tumbler, warmed him more than the whiskey ever could. As she returned, he bit back a groan, concentrating on her question and not the swell of her breasts so generously displayed above the gown.

“He did rant about the men he worked for being powerful enough to take over the government.” He accepted the glass she handed him. Her fingers trailed lightly across his when she released it. “Thank you, ma’am.”

Gracefully, she sank to her knees at his feet, batting her eyelashes up at him. “Please call me Claudia, Micah. Do you have any idea why he would say something like that?”

Obviously, she wanted to get information from him, while revealing little on her part. In fact, she hadn’t told him anything he couldn’t read in the newspapers. The minx wanted to play the flirt, did she? He wondered exactly how far she intended to go.

Setting aside the glass, he reached a hand down to stroke her hair. A shadow of fear crossed her features. She schooled it quickly.

“Well,
Claudia
, Blackwood seemed to think once he disposed of Laura, no one would connect him to the murder.” He let his fingers trail down the smooth skin of her cheek. She trembled, but didn’t move away. “I would imagine someone, or a group of people, with enough power to cover up the senator’s death for six months could be in on the conspiracy, don’t you?”

“Yes. Yes, I suppose that’s true.” The pulse at the base of her throat quickened against his fingers. “Did that terrible man mention any names?”

Micah let his fingers tip her chin upwards. “No, he didn’t.” Holding her head still, he leaned forward. “Has anyone new or unusual shown up at the library?”

Claudia’s tongue darted out to moisten her lips.

The naïve act sent heat sizzling through his blood. Controlling the desire to crush her beneath him, he lowered his mouth to hers, inhaling the sweetness of her breath as he sampled what she so innocently gave with a soft gasp.

Micah slowly increased the pressure on her delicious lips. His hand slid off her chin, down over the smooth column of her neck, urging her closer. When she moaned, he took advantage of her parted lips and slipped his tongue inside her warm mouth, dancing with hers. He fought his own urge to groan.

He moved his other hand over her shoulders, moving her upwards. With his hands and lips he guided her off her knees, very slowly onto his lap.

When her soft bottom settled on his thighs, Micah enfolded her in his arms. He groaned.

For a few moments longer, he let himself sample what the inexperienced little lady offered him. From the first touch, he’d known just how deep her innocence ran. Gently, he eased her back, his lips tasting one last time her forbidden fruits.

“Claudia?”

“Yes, Micah?” She whispered his name.

Watching her eyes slowly open, he let himself stare into the depths of their whiskey color. They intoxicated him a little more. Fighting off the urge to resume the kiss proved a bit difficult.

He cupped her face in one hand.

“How do you know Jonathan Gibson?”

CHAPTER THREE

Micah’s words slowly seeped through the sensual fog surrounding Claudia’s mind. She struggled to pull her thoughts back to his question. The warmth of his chest beneath her hand, the wonderful feel of his hand slowly kneading the muscles of her back, the firm support of his thighs beneath her bottom where it rested on his lap, made the effort difficult.

His lap?

How had she ended up on his lap?

She blinked once, twice. A roguish smile played upon his lips, his steel-grey eyes held amusement at her predicament.

Claudia pushed against his chest. “Unhand me,
sir
!”

His hand tightened. For a brief moment, she thought he meant to keep her trapped. Then he released her, laughing as she scrambled away.

“How dare you take such liberties, Mr. Turner!” Indignation flooded her cheeks with heat.

“I was only taking what was offered, ma’am.” He drawled in that low, Southern voice again. Leaning back in his chair, he crossed one leg over the other, once more the image of the manor lord.

Claudia hurried over to the settee, settling into the furthest corner. “You…I…never offered…on your lap!”

“You most certainly did. Your little game was most intriguing. I’m sure many men have wanted to taste the luscious fruits you offered. I simply indulged myself.”

“I have never offered fruits or anything else to a man!” She shot up out of her seat, both hands clenched at her side.

“Sit.” The quiet order stilled her tirade before it could begin. Claudia opened, then closed her mouth. The look on his face suggested she obey for the moment. As gracefully as she could, she perched on the settee’s corner once more.

“Now, madam, if you are done playing the wanton, perhaps you and I can discuss the situation we find ourselves in.” He lifted an eyebrow at her, waiting for her reply.

“What do you mean, playing the wanton?” She tried to think like the scatterbrain once more, even though she sensed he no longer believed her act.

“Please do not insult my intelligence any further, madam. I admit your disguises are quite intriguing and rather diverse. The spinster leaving the library this afternoon was extremely off-putting. The crone tonight completely fooled me. Except for the scent of spring flowers both women wore, I never would have suspected they were you.”

Claudia blushed at his praise.

“Even tonight’s little inane flirt was something of a masterpiece. The costume caught me slightly off-guard.” He paused, letting his gaze roam over her from head to toe. “But however tempting the vision you have offered me tonight, I am weary and no longer care to play the audience for your little drama. I wish to speak with the woman who had the foresight to send Laura to Colorado to save her from a murderer. We need to have a serious discussion on the problem at hand.”