The Moon and the Stars (17 page)

Blackness closed in on her, and she fought hard against it, but in the end she was swallowed by the darkness.

Wade had removed his jacket, unfastened his tie, and rolled up his sleeves before delving into the stack of papers on his desk. He could not seem to concentrate on his work; his mind was on more complicated matters. He was more sure than ever that he had made a blunder where Caroline was concerned. She was not the cold-hearted killer her brother-in-law had portrayed. She was innocent in every way.

Or was she? He was never quite sure.

He swiveled his chair around, propped a booted foot on a stool, and closed his eyes. “How long?” he whispered aloud. How long would this uncertainty nag at him? He had always been in command of his own thoughts and feelings, but not anymore. One moment he thought Caroline was innocent, and the next minute he could almost see her shooting her husband.

He broodingly stared out the window at the passing scenery as the train gathered speed and rocked over
the rails. He thought back on the search that had led him to Caroline. She had left a trail that an amateur could have followed. He wondered why it had taken Brace Duncan three years to send someone to find her. Or
had
he sent someone before, someone who had returned empty-handed?

He had tried to be professional where Caroline was concerned, but it was getting harder by the day to pretend indifference toward her when all he could think about was holding her in his arms. He remembered how light she had been when he'd carried her out of the river. He did not want to turn her over to Brace—he wanted to keep her for himself.

He glanced back at the stack of work on his desk and shoved it aside. Every passing day would take them closer to Charleston. Could he really turn Caroline over to Brace Duncan, knowing she was so terrified of the man? He did not think so.

What would his life be like when she was no longer with him? He could not go back to his life the way it had been before he had met her. Knowing her had changed him somehow. The restlessness that had always stirred within him had been quieted, to be replaced by hot, burning desire—a desire he kept tightly leashed. But there had been times when he had almost lost the battle. Sometimes it could be just the turn of her head, the pursing of her lips. She was beautiful when she awoke in the mornings, with curls framing her face.

“Damn,” he muttered, trying to think of something other than how her breasts pushed against her shirt when she stretched her arms over her head—a morning ritual that drove him crazy with need.

He unbuckled his gun and placed it on his desk. He had given up bounty hunting long ago because of a promise he'd made Anton before he died. He only took it up again when Brace Duncan had sent him a package with Caroline's picture and a letter informing him of her crimes. He had left two days later for Charleston to find out more about the woman whose face had begun to haunt him. The day he had agreed to find her and take her back to North Carolina was the day he had once again taken up his gun.

Damn that tintype! If only he had just thrown the package away without opening it. It seemed to him that all of his life he had been searching for something that was always just out of reach. Before he met Caroline, he had never realized how empty his life had been. She could be a hellion and dig her heels in stubbornly, insisting on having her own way, or she could charm him with the turn of her head or a smile from those lips.

He shifted in his chair and rubbed the back of his neck, ready to stake his life on her innocence. He just had to decide what to do about Brace Duncan.

He picked up a letter, opened it, and stared at it without really seeing it. He was thinking about his relationship with Caroline—looking at it from outside, he imagined she despised him. Who could blame her? She thought of him as mercenary and only interested in the reward money he would get when he turned her over to her brother-in-law.

With her, it had never been about the money, but he would never convince her of that. He had to think clearly, and that was the one thing that seemed to
elude him at the moment. If he did not take Caroline back to Brace, the man would only send someone else to search for her.

He stood up and began to pace, swaying for a moment with the motion of the train. He braced his hands on the wall and lowered his head. Caroline was not the woman Brace Duncan had described to him. It seemed that she had loved her husband—still loved him, if he was any judge of character. But what did he know? Of late he had been lagging behind in the judging department.

His raised his head slowly as realization hit him hard. In his whole life, he had never deeply loved another human being. He had respected his adopted father, but he had not felt any deep emotion for him. Anton had been a hard taskmaster, but Wade had learned from him. The trouble was, he and Anton had been much alike, and neither one of them had known how to show love. Legally, Anton had been his father. But in truth, Anton had been a cold-hearted man; his only passion had been the acquisition of more wealth.

Wade came to another startling realization: In him, Anton had successfully created a son in his own likeness.

Wade had patterned his life after Anton's because of a promise, but that wasn't who he really was. He had taken the wealth Anton had left him and built an empire Anton would have been proud of. But the wealth meant very little to Wade; it never had. Bored to distraction with his life, he had been more than willing to revert to his past life when he had gone looking for Caroline.

 

Caroline felt as if she were fighting her way through a deep fog. She was so cold, and it was dark and dank in the place her mind dwelled. She was running from something frightful that was just behind her and gaining on her. She had the feeling that if she slowed her pace or slipped, the darkness would surely devour her. She tossed and turned, trying to run faster, but her legs would not move. She was lost and could not save herself.

The darkness seemed to clear a bit, and she could now see her pursuer. She tossed her head back and forth. The person chasing her was Brace, his hard eyes looking at her, his hands reaching out to capture her.

“Wade,” she cried out in sheer terror, “help me!”

She felt herself being lifted into someone's arms, and she rested her head against a wide chest.

“
Mon amour, il n'y a raison pour craindre,
” Wade said, holding her tighter, and then slipping back into English. “My love, there is no reason to fear. I will let nothing harm you.”

Her tears dampened his shirt, and she clutched at him, not willing to let him go. He was the only reality in a frightening world. “I am sorry,” she gasped. “I don't seem to be feeling quite myself.”

He could see that she was having trouble breathing, so he unhooked her gown and unlaced her corset so she would not be so constricted. While he gathered her close, he worked the pins out of her hair and let it flow freely across his arm.

“Is that better?”

She moaned and twisted her head. “He will find me
no matter where I hide. I don't want him to ever touch me again.”

He brushed her hair away from her face, and the golden mass fell in curls down her back.

She was burning up with fever.

“Do not think about him,” he told her soothingly, knowing exactly who pursued Caroline in her feverinduced nightmare.

She shook her head and nestled against him more securely. “Hold me. Hold me tight,” she whispered.

He eased his weight onto the bed, leaned back against the headboard, then gathered her to him. There was an unfamiliar heaviness around his heart. “Sweetheart, why did you not tell me you were feeling ill?”

She opened her eyes, looking startled when she realized that she had not been dreaming that he was holding her, but she was actually in his arms. She tried to move away, but it took too much effort. She sobbed and sank back into the shelter of his arms.

“Why, Caroline? Why did you not tell me, or at least let Dolly know that you were unwell? You must have been ill for some time.”

She drew in a shuddering breath. “I have to get home,” she said in little more than a faint whisper.

He touched his lips to her forehead. “When you are with me, you
are
at home.”

She took a deep, painful breath, not understanding his meaning. “I want to get back to Charleston even more than you want to take me there. I must confront Brace and make him admit his lies.”

“Caroline,” he said softly against her ear. “I am going
to leave you for a moment. I need to get cool water so I can bring your fever down. I keep medical supplies in my desk drawer—I need to see if there is anything there that will help you.”

She clutched his arm. “No.” She gasped as if trying to catch her breath. “Don't leave me.”

“Caroline, I have to get your fever down,” he said as panic rose inside him. “I will only be a moment.” He gently laid her down, looking into her fever-bright eyes. “I will need to remove your outer clothing so I can bathe you with water.”

She grasped at his hand. “No.”

His heart tightened, and he was hit with an emotion so hard and sharp that it left him stunned. “
Ma chère,
what have I done to you?”

His hands trembled as he bent over her, undoing her gown and unhooking her stays. When he had stripped her down to her petticoat, he went into the outer room to gather what he needed.

When he returned a moment later, he lifted her head, gave her a spoonful of cough elixir, and then applied a damp cloth to her forehead.

Guilt hung over him like a heavy cloud. She was so fragile, and he had driven her too hard. When she had spent most of her time at Dolly's resting, he should have known she was ill. He had wrongly thought she was just rebelling against him.

He dipped a cloth in water and bathed her arms, noticing how delicate they were. He could only imagine what hell she had lived through after her husband had been killed. She had endured stark panic hiding from Brace Duncan. And he had witnessed her fear when he had ridden into town that day.

“I'm so cold,” she said, shaking all over. She clutched at the cover, trying to pull it over her.

He pried it from her fingers. “It would not be wise to cover you—I need to cool your body down.”

“No.”

“
Oui, mon amour
, it is necessary.”

She became calm at the sound of his voice and allowed him to help her.

After he had bathed both arms, raised her petticoat, and bathed her legs, he straightened it around her ankles. With a worried frown, he watched her labored breathing. He imagined she had been sick even before they arrived in San Antonio. What concerned him most was her shallow breathing. He propped her up on the pillows and went in search of the conductor. He found the man two cars away, and informed him that he wanted his private car switched to the tracks that would take them to New Orleans. He also made arrangements for his horse to be shipped home at the next stop.

He had decided that he was taking Caroline to his home. He wanted her under his protection, and he wanted his doctor to look after her.

Later, as he sat beside her, he took her hand in his. He pitied anyone who might try to take her away from him.

It was after midnight when he saw the flashing lights of the switch tower. His car was unhooked from the passenger train and then left for over an hour in the Houston freight yard before being coupled onto a Louisiana-bound train.

Caroline had become more restless. Wade placed
his hand on her forehead and found her fever was higher than earlier in the afternoon.

He had never known real fear until now. He was terrified that she might die because he had been careless with her health.

What if he lost her?

He dipped a fresh cloth in water and ran it along her face and neck, moving to her shoulders, and then applied it to her forehead. He bathed her arms and legs several times, frantically trying to bring down her fever.

She fought him and cried out, “I am so cold.”

After a while, her fever-bright eyes closed. Infrequently she would open them and stare at him as if she didn't know who he was.

Wade brought a chair to the side of the bed and sat down so he could watch her. “Rest, sleep. I will take care of you,” he promised her.

She reached for his hand and brought it to her breast. “Stay with me this time.”

He stayed at her side all night. Even in sleep, she would not relinquish his hand. It was nearing morning, and a cool breeze filtered through the opened windows when Caroline complained that she was too hot. So he bathed her once more.

It was around noon when Caroline suddenly began to thrash about on the bed, whimpering. “No, no,” she moaned. “God, help! The blood—the blood all over my gown!” She turned and twisted her body. “Blood on my hands—Michael's blood.”

Wade gathered her close, holding her against his chest. She was reliving her husband's death, and the
things she said chilled his heart. Michael Duncan had died in her arms. Wade realized how important it was to keep her calm, so he spoke soothingly to her. “I have you in my arms. Nothing can hurt you while I am with you. Do not think about anything but the sound of my voice.”

She buried her face against his neck. “I don't want to sleep—the dreams—”

“Hush,
ma chère
. You must sleep. Think about me holding you and standing between you and anything that might harm you.”

The sound of his voice calmed her, so he kept talking to her softly. “You have been alone for a long time, and I know what that feels like. I think I touched your spirit before I even heard the sound of your voice.”

She looked at him as if she didn't understand what he was saying.

He watched her eyes close, and she fell asleep. “I knew you from the likeness I carried with me.”

He touched her lips with his finger, and she dragged her eyes open, then closed them again. “You will not remember anything I say to you after you awake, and I would never say these things to you if you were conscious.”