The Charleston Chase (Phantom Knights Book 2) (34 page)

Jack looked up from the map, patted Sam on the
shoulder, and left the room. Sam’s eyes rested on me again, but he
made no move toward me.

“Is there something you wish to say, or are you
content to stare like a man without sense?”

He smiled, the first real smile in seven days, and I
fought to keep control. I wanted to kiss him, or kick him, or
both.

He moved toward me until he was standing before the
settee. “May I sit?”

I moved over to the furthest edge of the seat so he
could sit, and no part of our bodies would touch. It did not work
as he sat in the middle of the settee, his arm against mine.

“Are any of your injuries paining you over
much?”

Turning to the side to look at him, he was leaning
against the wall, facing forward. While he was not looking at me, I
allowed my heart and mind to commit his profile to memory. The way
he had a thin patch of expertly trimmed whiskers running along his
jaw, across his chin. I loved the soft hair that ran in a perfect
line across the skin above his upper lip and even the little patch
that touched the dip in his chin. It was like an artist painted his
beard on with delicate, even strokes. His head angled toward mine,
and I met his gaze for a moment before looking away from him.

Rubbing my neck, I replied, “Not over much. The
harness took most of the brunt, but my neck does pain me a little
where the rope was.”

“Right here?” he asked as his thumb brushed along
the base of my throat where the rope burn marked my skin.

My eyes slipped closed as I allowed his touch to
sink in, filling every inch between my neck and deep into my
heart.

When his finger left my skin, my eyes opened, my
mouth forcing out the words, “Please allow me to thank you, most
sincerely, for coming to my rescue.”

“It is a life most worth rescuing.” He drew his eyes
away from mine to look around the room. “Jack tells me you have
found a house that you are considering purchasing.”

Leave it to Jack to inform Sam of everything! I had
hoped Sam would speak up before I went through with the trouble of
buying my own home, but my hope proved was fruitless. Only action
produced results.

“I thought it time to have a home of my own,” I
said.

“You have made your decision then,” he said, rather
dejected. “I should place my request before you now, for a dance
when next you go into society. I have no doubt, Elizabeth, that you
will be showered with offers once it is known you mean to
stay.”

Elizabeth?
Elizabeth!
I rose and stomped away
from him, fury, disappointment, love, all boiling inside me. When I
reached the wall of windows that were covered with long red
drapery, I swung around to face him, bumping into his chest as he
was directly behind me. His hands lightly gripped my upper arms to
keep me from stumbling. I shrugged his hands away and punched his
stomach. He groaned and jerked forward a little, but it was not
hard enough to hurt him.

“You are so vexing!” I was
beginning to shout. “I love you, Samuel Mason, but if you do not
stop staring
at
me and start speaking
to
me I shall not be responsible for what I do to
you.” I turned and started toward the windows.

“I was trying to give you time,” he said.

Spinning around, I faced him,
feeling incredulous, indignant. “
Time
? I am not a clock. I do not
need
time
!”

His lips twitched, and I knew he was close to
smiling. My eyes narrowed, letting him know that laughing at this
precise moment would not be to his benefit.

Though I was grateful for his thoughtfulness, I was
angry at his lack of perception. I did not need time to myself, to
dwell on all the hurts that I had endured. I needed him to hold me.
I needed him to assure me that the danger could not touch me. I
wanted his protection as well as his love.

“I was trying to be a gentleman,” he replied.

“If putting distance between us is being a
gentleman, I much prefer the rogue,” I retorted, standing toe to
toe with him as we had done many times before.

“Taking advantage of you is not
something I will do, Bess—”

“Indeed?” I asked caustically. “What then were you
doing when you announced, untruthfully I might add, our betrothal
to the whole of your ballroom?”

“It was perhaps not the best way to announce my
intentions, but I want to marry you, Bess, and I could think of no
other way of letting everyone know that you belong with me.”

“I want to marry you,” I said honestly, “though I do
not understand why you would want to marry me. I am far from any
kind of perfection.”

“Then, you are not truly seeing yourself.” He took
my hand, clasping it firmly so I could not pull away, not that I
tried. He led me out of the book room and into the foyer. He
positioned me before the looking glass that hung on the wall near
the front door. He rested his hands on my shoulders standing behind
me, his head over my right shoulder. He stared at me through the
glass. “Do you see it now?”

Huffing in frustration, I shook my head. All I saw
was the red burn on my neck from the rope, the bruises on my face
from the attack. “I thought you were trying to show me my
perfection, not my imperfections.”

“Bess, no speaking, just look.”

Doing as he instructed, I stared in the glass, first
at my imperfections, then giving up on working out what he meant
and shifting my gaze to his face. Standing there, silently
regarding each other through a looking glass, we could have been a
portrait. With my bruises and burns, we were an imperfect portrait,
but what in life was perfect? We certainly were not.

Perfect for each other, but beyond that...

His lips tilted up as my eyes widened.

“You knew then, at your party?” I asked, feeling
incredulous.

“I knew that you were perfect for me from the first
time that we met, all those months ago in my uncle’s bedchamber,
when you tried to shoot me.” My mouth opened as I gaped, and he
laughed. “There is more. Come with me.” He pulled me away from the
looking glass and back into his book room. At the drapery covering
the windows for our protection, he pulled it back and opened the
window.

Stepping out of the house and onto the terrace, I
halted, my jaw feeling slack.

The garden had been transformed into a haven of
beauty. There were lanterns hanging from the tree branches, lit by
candles that cast a beautiful glow over the garden. Sam took my
hand again, leading me down the steps and toward the stone bench.
When we reached it, he had me sit. He walked around the tree and
came back with a brown box.

He lifted the lid on the brown box, but keeping it
tilted so I could not see what was inside. He pulled out a soiled
handkerchief, and I felt my brows rise as high as they could.

“I am not usually a sentimental man, but when I
first met you, I knew that I wanted something to remember you by,
so I kept this.”

It had dark smudges on what was once white cloth. I
did not know what to say, mostly because I had no notion of what it
was supposed to mean. Sam laughed.

“This was what I used to wipe the soot off your face
before I kissed you.”

Unable to control the bubble that came up, I
laughed. It was a perfectly ridiculous thing to have kept.

He lifted the lid again. “This you will remember,”
he said as he brought forth my pistol.

Smiling, I held it. “You stole this from me and then
returned it with that letter.”

“Bess, I wanted this here because I want you to know
that though there may be times when we feel like fighting with
pistols at dawn, I would never hurt you. I promise that I will
spend the rest of my life fighting at your side if you will have
me.”

“Of—”

“I am not finished,” Sam said, interrupting what I
was trying to say. I laughed before biting my lip to keep from
talking.

He pulled a letter from his box and handed it to me.
Opening it, I read the words, then reread them. It was his formal
resignation from the Phantoms, dated a week after I arrived, long
before we knew that the Phantoms were disbanded. My heart was
beating painfully swift, but I stared at him silently, waiting to
hear his explanation.

“When you arrived, you brought life back to me,
Bess. For the first time, I enjoyed being the leader of the
Phantoms because it meant I could see you.” His thumb stroked my
cheek. “It was for that reason that I waited to post my
resignation, but it was your arrival that made me choose that
course.

“I want you to understand that I did not come to
this decision lightly. I weighed each side, to come to the
realization that there were no sides. It was you, any way I
looked.” He kissed my hand that was clutching the letter. “I love
you, Bess, and for that reason I will not be aiding in the search
for Harvey.”

The pain, the fear, the emptiness of the last
several months fled as he brought our hands up to his lips. Like
the night of his ball, he kissed my knuckles, each one slowly, his
hot breath sliding down my arm and warming my soul.

“Will you marry me, Bess?”

I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him,
feeling both light and full at the same moment.

Into my hair, he asked, “Am I to take this as
acceptance?”

I laughed and moved my hands to his shoulders. “Yes!
I want nothing more than to be your wife.”

His forehead touched mine as he sighed, and I felt
it all the way to my toes. He had been nervous, and it made my
stomach flutter. He lowered his lips to mine and held them there
for a long moment, our breath and hearts interweaving in a bond
that could never be broken. A wall went up around my heart, but
unlike the times in my past, this wall was completely made of Sam
and not disappointment and pain. He was allowing our hearts to
connect, staking his claim that could never be disputed. Our noses
brushed. He smiled.

“I want to be married soon,” he said. When I agreed,
he kissed me again.

“May?” I asked.

“I was thinking the end of April,” Sam said.

“That is in two weeks!” I nearly shrieked.

Sam laughed, pulling me against him. “It shall be as
you wish.”

“I must give my mother enough time to return.”

Sam’s shoulders shook, and I looked up at him. He
pointed to something over my shoulder, and I turned.

Standing inside the book room window was Jack and my
mother. Her black hair was swept up, her blue eyes soft.

I sucked in my lips and bit them, trying not to cry,
but I could not stop the tears from flowing. I started toward my
mother, who had stepped onto the terrace, but I stopped and turned
back to Sam. I grabbed his hand and pulled him with me, his
laughter filling my soul. When we reached my mother, I released his
hand and threw my arms around her. She had tears on her cheeks, and
I knew that she had been told at least some of what had
happened.

Mother reached out for Jack, who was standing near,
and pulled him into our embrace, and then I felt Sam pressed
against my back as Mother’s hand pulled him in with us.

“My family,” Mother whispered.

She released Jack and Sam and then stepped back as
she held me out to look at me. Her eyes narrowed on the rope burn
around my neck and the bruises on my cheek and temple. She bit her
full bottom lip to keep from crying. I was proud of her when she
held herself together. She kissed my cheek.

“Now, my children, let us discuss wedding
plans.”

“Wait,” I said, looking from my mother to Sam and
back again. “How did you know if you only just arrived?”

“My darling son-to-be came to me in March,
requesting to marry you. When I gave my consent, he brought me with
him to Charleston.”

Jack laughed. “He is nothing if not prepared,
Bess.”

I tilted my head to look at Jack.
“How long have you known?”

Jack smiled. “Not nearly as long
as our mother has known. Sam told me of his intentions—told me mind
you, not asked my permission—after you were captured by the Holy
Order. You have your hands full with this one, Bess.” Jack’s smile
was infectious. “I told him you would marry him only if our mother
was here.”

Sam took my hand, kissing the back.

“I needed time did I?” I asked, my brows rising.

“I had thought so until Jack set me straight. He
told me that the only time you needed was with me.”

“My brother has much wisdom,” I said, almost bereft
as I thought about all he had done for me.

He slowly leaned down until I
could feel his breath against my cheek. “As I said,
soon
,” Sam whispered,
stroking my hot cheek with one finger.

Mother started talking about churches, dresses, food
and much more, but I halted her when she started speaking of dates
as far away as August. “Sam and I will be married two weeks from
tomorrow.”

My mother’s eyes widened until I was sure she was in
pain. Jack laughed again.

“You may plan the usual festivities, I want us to
host a masquerade ball on my birthday, but our ceremony will take
place in two weeks with only family present.”

Sam kissed my temple. “Perfect,” he whispered, and I
smiled at him, knowing that it would be perfect.

“A masquerade ball?” Mother asked, sounding unsure
about the idea.

I laid my hand over Sam’s. “Father created the
Phantoms, and I would feel like he was there with me in
spirit.”

Mother shed more tears, and Jack was smiling at me,
liking the idea.

We spoke for a few more minutes about wedding
details and then I requested a few minutes alone with my
brother.