Simmer All Night (8 page)

"Nothing is stronger than chocolate," Chrissy opined as she selected a sweet. "Tell me what happened, Lana. Tell me what those people did to you."

While the women drank their tea, Lana told a story that made Chrissy so angry she shook in her stockings. Lana's husband's parents had never approved of her, which made sharing a home for ten years all the more difficult. That's how long it had taken her husband to save enough money to build them a home of their own. The Klebergs had resisted the move, and they blamed Lana for it.

"But Henry wanted our own house as much as I did, Chrissy. More, even. As long as we were living on the Kleberg dairy farm, his father would never let him be his own man. I know that. He wasn't doing it just for me. If that were true, well, I... I couldn't bear it."

Henry had died while using dynamite to help clear the rocky Hill Country site he'd chosen for their home. From the beginning, the Klebergs made it clear they wished their daughter-in-law had been the one to die in the accident. Lost in grief, Lana had shared their opinion. It wasn't until over two months later when she heard her little Sophie repeat her grandmother's lament that she realized what harm the Klebergs were doing to her children.

"I couldn't let them teach such hatred to my babies. They'd already lost their father; they shouldn't lose their mother, too."

"Of course not," Chrissy agreed.

As soon as physically possible, Lana gathered her children and left New Braunfels to settle in San Antonio, where she supported her family by putting her baking talents to work.

"They were furious when we left," Lana said, sipping her tea. "They promised they would cause me trouble, and now it looks like they're going to keep their word."

Chrissy reached across the small table and took her friend's hand. "How?"

"Somehow the Klebergs found out about Michael's foray into theft. That's all it took for them to contact a lawyer and a judge." She paused and swallowed hard. "They say they're going to take my children away from me, Chrissy. They said I'm unfit to care for them." She sighed long and hard, then added, "Sometimes the headaches leave me incapacitated. Maybe they're right."

Chrissy used one of the pithy epithets she'd learned from her brother and Cole. "Don't be ridiculous. You're a wonderful mother and you're doing a fine job raising your children."

Lana laughed sadly. "So fine that soon I'll be measuring my son's jail cell for curtains."

Chrissy sat back in her chair. "Stop it. Michael is a good boy and you know it. He might be a little misguided at the moment, but he'll get over it. You'll teach him. I'll teach him."

"We won't have the chance," Lana said, tears filling her eyes once more. "They're going to take them away from me. They're wealthy. They know I suffer headaches. They'll use that against me, that and Michael's troubles. I can't win a fight against them."

Chrissy nibbled at her bottom lip. An idea had been floating through her mind since Lana had started her story and in that instant, Chrissy made up her mind. "You won't have to fight them, Lana."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm leaving town tomorrow, and I find myself in need of a companion. Tell me, Lana, how would you and your family like to accompany me to England?"

* * *

Leaning in for a kiss, Cole gazed into the Widow Larsen's liquid brown eyes and mentally changed them to green. When he realized what he was doing, he scowled and pulled back.

"What is it, darling?" said the wanton widow, pouting prettily. "It is not like you to be so inattentive."

"My apologies, Louise. It's been a frustrating couple of weeks and I'm afraid I'm distracted."

They sat on a couch in her parlor, the scene of a number of romantic trysts between them over the course of the past six months. The encounters remained occasional and strictly physical, which suited them both. Older than Cole by almost a decade, the widow had proposed their arrangement herself, naming as her reasons her need for a man's attentions and her contentment with her current independent lifestyle. As the months passed, she even went out of her way to suggest young ladies about town whom Cole should consider courting when the notion of marriage held some appeal.

He did listen to her. Cole liked both the lady and the sex, and since he'd lost his taste for bordellos following that trouble with Christina, he found his liaison with the widow to be a handy thing. Ordinarily. Tonight it simply didn't feel right.

Wrinkling her dainty nose, Louise said, "Well. Frustration and distraction, hmm? I believe I shall take that as a personal challenge. I am, as you well know, quite talented at dealing with a man's frustrations."

"Why do you think I wanted to see you tonight?" he grumbled.

She laughed, then swooped in for a kiss. Cole responded, trying to lose himself in the moment, but the effort went for naught. The only emotion the delectable widow's kiss aroused in him this evening was indifference. Were he less secure in his masculinity, Cole might have been worried.

Everything was Christina's fault, of course. That kiss he'd sworn to forget never quite left his thoughts. Plus, with only one week to go before their scheduled departure, the worries of traveling with the troublemaker invaded every aspect of his life. For one thing, he couldn't trust her. He couldn't count on her following his instructions, and he couldn't predict her behavior. She'd given in much too easily to this plan of her mother's. He wouldn't be at all surprised if on the day of their departure she failed to show up.

"I won't chase after her," he mumbled.

Louise lifted her mouth from his neck and asked, "What?"

Chagrined, Cole paid her lips another visit, determined to get the job done. But despite his best intentions and the skill of Louise Larsen's tongue, his thoughts drifted off once again. He'd known Miss Christina Elizabeth Delaney nearly all her life, and he'd developed a sixth sense where she was concerned. That sense told him something was suspicious about the trip she'd taken to visit a Fort Worth dressmaker.

Neither Elizabeth nor Jake agreed with his opinion. They actually believed that the minx wanted a new wardrobe to impress potential beaux. Cole didn't buy it for a minute.

"Oh, darling." Louise Larsen sighed. "You do take a woman's breath away. Let's adjourn to my bedroom, shall we?"

Standing, she held out her hand toward him. Lamplight reflected off the diamonds in the ring she wore on her left hand, catching Cole's notice. Diamonds alone wouldn't do in a ring for Christina. She should have a fiery ruby or two in her wedding band.

What am I doing thinking about Christina and wedding rings
? Determined to find a distraction, he grasped Louise's hand and allowed her to tug him toward the bedroom.

A pounding on the front door stopped him in his tracks. "Morgan! Open up. Sorry to interrupt, but we've got trouble."

"That's Jake Delaney," Louise said with a petulant pout. "What in the world does he want?"

Bang
.
Bang. Bang.
"Cole, answer the door."

Cole shot Louise an apologetic look. She sighed, smiled, and made shooing motions with her hands. "Go on. You weren't up for this tonight anyway."

"I was getting there."

She laughed and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. "I'd ask who she is, but I think I already know. Go find out what mischief she's up to this time." Then, framing his face in both hands, she kissed him hard on the mouth. "It's been a pleasure sharing my bed with you, Cole Morgan. I wish you nothing but happiness."

Bang. Bang. Bang
. Cole ignored the noise at the door and scowled at his lover. "Now wait just one minute. What do you mean by—"

"Cole!"

"Go."

He glanced from her to the door then back to her again. "All right. But I'll be back."

"No, I don't believe you will," she said softly and a little sadly as he opened the door to a red-faced, wild-eyed Jake Delaney.

"This had better be good," Cole snapped as he lifted his hat from the hall tree and set it on his head.

"Oh, it's not good," Jake replied, sending an "I'm sorry" wave to Louise. "It's bad. Very, very bad."

Cole froze. "Elizabeth?"

"She's fine. It's not her."

"Then what has Christina done this time? Burned down Fort Worth? Taken to stage dancing in Hell's Half Acre, perhaps?" Another thought struck him and all amusement in his voice died. "Has she eloped?"

"Not yet, but that may be next." Jake raked his fingers through his hair. He drew a deep breath, then exhaled it in a rush. "She's gone, Cole. One of those Chili Queens delivered a letter."

"From Fort Worth?"

"No. She lied. She didn't go to Fort Worth."

Ah-hah. I was right.
"So where did she go? Austin, I bet. She has friends up there."

"Not Austin. England. She went alone or what might as well be alone, since only the Kleberg woman and her kids went with her and they certainly don't keep her out of trouble."

A sick sensation rolled through Cole's stomach. "You mean England, Texas, up in Red River County?"

"No, and that's English, Texas, not England. I mean England as in London and castles and tea with the queen. Our Chili Queen has gone to England. See?"

He whipped a sheet of paper from his jacket pocket and waved it in front of Cole's face. Cole took it, skimmed it, and his temper built, then exploded. "Dammit, Jake, she went to England!"

"I know."

"By herself!"

"I know. You have to go after her, Cole. I'm afraid to leave Mother."

Cole nodded. "I'll leave in the morning "

Jake blew a relieved sigh. "Thank you. I'll owe you big for this."

"Does Elizabeth know she's gone?"

"No. I won't tell her until I can think of a story that won't worry her."

Cole stared down at the letter in his hand. So Chrissy had run off to England and put herself in danger and her mother's health at risk. He crushed the letter in his fist. "If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times. When I finally run her to ground, I swear I'm going to kill Christina Delaney."

Chapter 4

Derbyshire, England

As the hired coach rattled through the English countryside toward Hartsworth, the knot in Chrissy's stomach grew to the size of a grapefruit. She'd been running on nerves since leaving San Antonio, and her anxiety level had now reached its peak as they traveled the final few miles toward her grandfather's country estate. "I can't believe I actually went through with this."

Lana reached out and patted Chrissy's hands as they lay clenched in her lap. "It's all right. We're with you. No need to be worried."

"That's right, Miss Chrissy," Sophie said, mimicking her mother's concerned expression. "We'll take care of you."

Michael turned his attention away from the window just long enough to grin and nod his agreement. The boy had grabbed onto the adventure of an ocean voyage and not let go. For someone who'd caused such trouble of late, he'd been a perfect angel during their trip. If one didn't mind near constant movement, continuous excitement, and unending questions, that is.

For Chrissy, Michael's happiness had been a balm that soothed her own troubled spirit. One particular morning during the trip, Lana and Chrissy had watched the boy question a sailor at length about ship navigation. Lana made the comment that her son and Chrissy shared many similar characteristics, namely his spirit, his curiosity, and his sense of adventure. "It's easier for him, being a boy," she'd added. "The consequences of breaking rules are less serious for males than for females in our society."

Chrissy had mulled that observation over for some time. Her mother had often said something similar during the lectures she'd delivered to her daughter. Aboard the ship taking her away from home, Chrissy had considered the notion from a mother's point of view, drawing parallels between Michael's behavior and her own. Had she, in her own way, picked pockets in the plaza?

Perhaps. Her actions certainly had hurt her mother at times, and for that, Chrissy felt a measure of guilt. Had it been selfish of her to rebel against the rules society placed upon females?

Yes, she concluded, in some ways it had.

So why had she done it? She didn't think she was a selfish person by nature. Yet, staring out at the vast, empty ocean, Chrissy had admitted to herself that sometimes she'd intentionally acted up just to get a rise out of her mother. Shame washed through her.
You
are
twenty going on two, Chrissy Delaney.

She'd thought long and hard about her situation and concluded that while she was responsible for her own actions, her mother wasn't entirely blameless. Lana's relationship with her son exemplified that point. Where Lana worried about Michael's behavior because of the potential harm to the boy, Elizabeth Delaney's primary concern was how her daughter's actions reflected upon her and upon the exalted Delaney name.

Chrissy finally decided that it came down to a question of degrees of love. Lana loved Michael with her whole heart and soul. Elizabeth loved Chrissy because she was a good woman and it was her duty to love her child. The child in Chrissy yearned for a mother's unfettered love like Lana gave to Michael and Sophie. Elizabeth Delaney's dutiful love left a hollowness inside her daughter that Chrissy had spent years trying to fill in sometimes inappropriate ways.