Tender Is the Storm by Johanna Lindsey

  "Isn't it the other way around, that they don't like you?" she said sharply.

  He smiled. "Think so? But we were talking about your new status, Mrs. Holt, and whether or not what you do is my business. Seems to me, as long as you're married to my brother, it is."

  "Nonsense," Sharisse snapped. "You never cared about your brother's feelings before. Why should you suddenly want to protect his interests?"

  "Who said anything about his interests? That name you carry now is mine, too, beautiful. You think I want it said that a Holt couldn't hold on to his woman?"

  Before she could say anything, he went on. "You're here alone. That tells me Luke doesn't know you're leaving. And here I thought he was all you wanted. You did tell me that, didn't you?" he asked with pure mockery.

  "Leave me alone, Slade."

  She turned away, but he grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. "Answer me."

  "Yes!" Then, "Yes, he was all I wanted. But that doesn't matter anymore, because he doesn't want a wife. I can't stay here, knowing that."

  "Maybe he doesn't know what he wants," Slade remarked cryptically. "Did you fall in love with him?"

  "Certainly not," she replied, too quickly. "And you needn't concern yourself, Slade. Lucas is quite willing to let me go. He expects me to get an annul­ment of our marriage. I won't disappoint him. It will be done as soon as possible."

  He stared at her thoughtfully, then said, "Well, before you quit being a bride, there's an old custom I want to take advantage of."

  She threw up her hands to stop him. "Slade, no!"

  His mouth closed over hers in a hard, searching kiss. Ripples of excitement flowed through her. Oh, no, not again, she despaired. But she pressed closer to his hard body even as she tried to move away.

  She was breathless and dazed when he released her.

  And then he was gone, as abruptly as he had come.

  Chapter 32

  BILLY drew up short when he entered the barn and found Lucas readying his horse with more gear than he could possibly need for a long trip. "Willow tells me your wife took off. You going after her?"

  Lucas didn't bother to glance up. "Nope."

  "Then what's all this? You just got back from being gone a week. Where'd you go anyway?"

  "Around."

  "Oh," Billy said sardonically.

  Lucas chuckled. "Since when did you get so curi­ous about me?"

  "Since you took off the same day you got married," Billy replied. "I got to thinking maybe being mar­ried didn't sit too well with you."

  "It didn't."

  "Shoot, Luke, I thought you liked her."

  Lucas shrugged noncommittally. "That's got noth­ing to do with it. I'm not like you, Billy. I just didn't want a wife, that's all."

  "Then why'd you let me talk you into sending for one?" Billy's voice rose with agitation. "You're mak­ing me feel guilty as all hell, Luke. Willow said I'd end up regretting butting into your life."

  "Forget it. I went along with it since it seemed like a good idea. It wasn't your fault. I never planned on actually marrying the girl."

  "Did she know that?"

  "She does now."

  Billy whistled softly. "So that's why she took off." Lucas nodded. "That leaves you married, but with­out a wife to show for it. You willing to go on like that?"

  Lucas considered explaining the nonlegality of his marriage, but decided against it. "I won't have to, Billy. Sharisse will take care of ending the marriage just as soon as she gets back to New York."

  "You sure?"

  "I'm sure."

  Billy frowned. "You planning on paying your re­spects at the Tucson graveyard again?" he ventured. "Is that why you're packing so much stuff?"

  "I did that a few days ago." Lucas finally looked at him squarely. "I'm quitting this place."

  "You ain't!"

  Lucas couldn't help laughing. Billy, with round, incredulous eyes, didn't look like Billy at all.

  "Why are you so surprised?" Lucas asked. "You knew I'd move on soon."

  "Yeah, but not yet. It ain't over. How can you go before it's finished?"

  Lucas shrugged. "The last phase is in the works. I'm not needed here for anything else."

  "I can't believe it. After all the time you've put in to make your plan work?"

  "That's just it, Billy. I've been here too long."

  "It's because she's gone, isn't it?"

  "Maybe," Lucas hedged. "What's the difference? You can handle the end of it. All those thank-you let­ters that came in from the different charities we dumped Sam's money into are in my room. All you have to do is see that he gets the lot of them as soon as Buskett sends word that Sam's ranch is sold and the last of Sam's money given to a worthy cause. He's not a stupid man. He will realize immediately that he's been taken for everything he owns. And I bought the bank myself so I could cancel all those mortgages. I'll send an agent in to take care of that."

  "Another expense you figure is worth it?"

  "I want the folks here to be free to move on to more properous towns if they've a mind to, yes."

  "You know they'll go. This town will be dead within a year. But shoot, Luke, I thought you wanted to deliver the blow to Newcomb yourself," Billy grumbled. "What kind of revenge is that, taking off without even seeing the expression when he reads those letters? I just don't understand."

  "It was never revenge, Billy. It was justice. And that's been served. And I can imagine how he will look," Lucas said grimly. "I don't have to be there to see it. I've wiped him out. Next to go will be his wife and his small army that made him feel like a king. All he'll have left is a suite in a hotel that never earned any money and never will, and soon there'll be a ghost town to surround it."

  "What about this place?"

  "Sell it if you can find someone fool enough to buy it. Or keep it, if you like. It doesn't make any differ­ence to me what you do with it. And you're welcome to it."

  "I'll probably head back to the reservation. Willow likes it better there."

  "I figured that."

  "And you?"

  "Henri Andrevie wrote that he'll be in New Or­leans for a while before he sails for France and the gambling halls there. I think I'll join him."

  "Isn't he the rascal who taught you so much?"

  "The same. He never did understand why I wanted to give up the gentleman's life to become a horse rancher. Maybe I'll tell him the reason now and give him a good laugh."

  "Maybe you better not. He might just figure out how you used him before."

  "I guess you're right," Lucas conceded.

  He was ready to leave. He looked at Billy one last time. How well they understood each other. He was going to miss this friend.

  "Think you'll ever get back this way?" Billy's ex­pression was sad.

  "You never know. But there's one more thing you can do for me, Billy. That passel of letters you're to deliver to Sam? Seal them all in a big envelope and write on it 'Compliments of Jake Holt, Boothill, Tuscon.' If that bastard's got any conscience, he'll re­member."

  "The perfect touch." Billy nodded solemnly.

  Lucas wondered about it as he rode away from the ranch and Newcomb. The trouble was, Samuel New-comb might not remember Jake Holt. After all, Jake was only one of Sam's victims. But he would wonder, and he would try to connect the name with Slade and Lucas. And if he wondered about all of it long enough, he just might remember Jake Holt.

  Chapter 33

  “Is this your first trip to a big city, child?" the elegantly clad woman beside Sharisse asked con­descendingly.

  "New York is my home," Sharisse replied auto­matically.

  "Oh."

  The lady looked away, her interest gone at being denied the chance to dazzle a country girl with tales of city life. Sharisse shrugged and stared out the win­dow again.

  She did indeed look like she had just come from the country, with her portmanteau at her feet, Charley's basket on her lap, and her poor traveling suit ready for the ragp
ile. But on this trip, her appearance had not been one of her concerns.

  In less than an hour she would be home. What awaited her? The letter in her reticule just didn't make sense. Sharisse had read it so often since leav­ing Newcomb that she knew it by heart, but she still couldn't decide what it meant.

  She took Stephanie's rumpled letter out and tried, one last time, for some insight.

  Dear, dear Rissy,

  My dreams have come true at last. Joel and I were married last night, secretly. You will think this was terribly sudden after what I told you in my first letter, and it was. Oh, I wish I had waited before writing that letter, but I didn't think Joel could arrange things so quickly.. But he did. And now I have to admit that I lied to you before.

  Oh, Rissy, you just have to understand. When you wrote that you wanted to come home immedi­ately, I didn't know what else to do but try to con­vince you that you couldn't. It was still too soon. Father was worried sick about you, but there was never any mention that your wedding would be called off. He wouldn't talk to me about it at all, and I thought, that when you returned, he would make you marry Joel.

  You see, he didn't admit to Edward Parrington that you ran away. I lied about that, Rissy. He hasn't talked to anyone, because being worried for you took the place of being angry. That happened on the second day you were gone. I was the one who made excuses to everyone for your absence. Naturally Sheila or one of your other friends would have wanted to come up to see you if you were ill, so I told them it was Aunt Sophie who was ill and you had gone to stay with her.

  They still think you plan to marry Joel, but we can tell them that you changed your mind while you were gone. Then, later, after a reasonable time, it can be announced that Joel and I eloped. That way no one will know you ran away.

  This must sound rather complicated, but it isn't really. I would never have lied to you if I hadn't been so desperate, Rissy. And don't think I've been completely heartless where Father is concerned. I didn't tell him where you were, but I did let him know that you had written to say you were all right. I told him you would be coming home soon. Do come home soon, Rissy, before he gets sick from worrying.

  Please don't be too angry with me, Rissy. I did try to let you know everything would work out when I told you not to despair, remember? Surely you understood?

  Sharisse tucked the letter away. It was no good. She still couldn't decide if Stephanie was telling her the truth this time, or if her father had found out that Stephanie knew where she was and had forced her to write this letter just so Sharisse would come home. Was she going to face Marcus Hammond at his very worst, or had he really been so worried about her that he would welcome her home without wrath?

  She hated to think of Stephanie betraying her in this letter. But far worse was to accept that first let­ter as lies. To deceive a stranger with lies, as she had done, was one thing. But to deliberately deceive one's own sister! Why, that first letter was indirectly responsible for her marriage! If it hadn't come when it did, she might have had her wits about her that day. It was just inconceivable that sweet little Steph­anie could be so unscrupulous, even for the sake of love.

  Sharisse wished that were all that was troubling her on this journey, but it wasn't. Ironically, going home was no different from when she had headed west, for the same three people occupied all her thoughts. But this time the third person was no longer an unknown entity.

  Sharisse found herself missing Lucas. She wouldn't have believed it possible, yet she hadn't been a day away from Newcomb before it became apparent that what she was feeling was pure melancholy.

  He had always managed to affect her in some way, whether or not she'd wanted him to. He could amuse her, exasperate her, even frighten her, and of course thrill her with pleasure. No matter what, when she was with him, she'd always felt something.

  So now, missing him, she had no control over her emotions. Angry because of her sister, worried be­cause of her father, she was constantly up and down with the feelings Lucas evoked. The strain was get­ting the best of her, and her nerves were raw.

  Chapter 34

  AN intense autumn sun burned down on the quiet avenue, but Sharisse barely noticed, used to a hotter sun. She stood on the curb, looking up at Ham­mond House, long after the hired driver had gone. It all felt somehow foreign. She had not been away even three months, but it seemed as though years had gone by. And most unnerving was the feeling that she didn't belong there.

  Climbing the stairs very slowly, taking deep breaths, Sharisse was tempted to knock on the door. But that would be cowardly, and that was not the im­pression she wished to convey. She walked right in as though she belonged there, then stopped in the large foyer, overwhelmed. For so long she had taken all this for granted, the marble floors, the rich wall­papering, the crystal lighting; such quiet elegance.

  She stood there realizing how easily she would give it all up just to see Lucas's jewel-like eyes again. And then she chided herself. Lucas didn't want her: she had to remember that and make herself stop thinking about him so much.

  "Miss Hammond!"

  Sharisse jumped as her name echoed in the large foyer. Mrs. Etherton stood at the top of the stairs, as prim as ever, though a little shaken up just then.

  "What is it, Mrs. Etherton?" Marcus Hammond called out through the doorway of his study.

  Utter silence followed. Sharisse didn't move a muscle, didn't even breathe. It was only a moment before Marcus Hammond appeared in the doorway. He stopped, staring at her, his blue eyes quickly cov­ering her from head to foot before they settled on her face. If she had expected to see a man exhausted from worry, this wasn't it. He looked tired around the eyes, but otherwise there was no difference.

  Sharisse carefully guarded her expression. Was that relief she saw on her father's face for a second before he mastered his own expression? She couldn't tell, for the sound of running footsteps made him frown.

  Stephanie had heard Mrs. Etherton's exclamation and come running. She nearly collided with the housekeeper at the top of the stairs. But Sharisse didn't spare a glance for her sister, because she couldn't take her eyes off her father. He glared at both of them, then said to Sharisse, "Put those things down and come in here."

  How easy it was to revert to following this man's orders without question. Sharisse set her portman­teau and Charley's basket on the floor and crossed the hall to enter her father's study. A brief glance at her sister showed Stephanie's alarm, which made her own apprehension worse.

  The door closed behind her, and Sharisse steeled herself. She couldn't bear the silence. "You're still an­gry with me?"

  "Of course I'm still angry," he said in a rough voice. But even as he spoke he came to her and drew her into his arms. He hugged her so fiercely, he squeezed the breath right out of her. Then he let her go just as suddenly. She could only stare at him amazed. He was frowning, but that didn't alarm her now.

  So it was true. He really had worried about her. Her relief was so great that she grinned, delighted.

  "I think you missed me, Father."

  "Don't you get sassy, girl," he said sternly. "I should take a strap to you, by God. What you did was the most irresponsible—"

  "I am aware of that." She cut him short before he could work himself into a temper. "And I really am sorry, Father. No one regrets my foolishness more than I do."

  His concern revealed itself then. "You are all right, aren't you, Rissy? I mean, nothing . . . hap­pened to you?"

  She hesitated. "Well . . ." She didn't want to tell him about Lucas if she didn't have to. "No. I look fine, don't I?"

  "Have you seen yourself in a mirror lately?" he asked brusquely.

  Sharisse blushed. "I've been traveling for over two weeks, Father. Once I clean up and change-^"

  "Two weeks?" he exclaimed. "Just where were you? The men I hired couldn't find you. Two weeks!"

  "I ... I was in the territory of Arizona."

  "That's clear across the country! Are you crazy? The
territories outside the states are barely civi­lized. Whatever made you—?"

  "Does that really matter?" she interrupted. "I'm home."

  Marcus clamped his mouth shut. He didn't know how to deal with this daughter anymore. He'd never known her to be like this, to be—just like her mother.

  Too, Marcus didn't want to risk another demon­stration of her newfound independence. How did you explain to your child the agonies you suffered, not knowing where she was or even whether she was alive? She wouldn't Understand, not until she had children of her own. Marcus knew he couldn't go through another disappearance, he just knew it.

  "Sit down, Sharisse." He moved behind his desk, where he felt more in command. "I want your solemn word that you will never leave home again without my blessing. *You are of an age where a certain amount of freedom is acceptable, but you are nevertheless vulnerable. And your breeding demands proper behavior, Sharisse. Anything less is a dis­grace to our good name. Do I have your word on this?"

  "Yes."

  Marcus was thoughtful after that terse response. Was she truly repentant? If so, this was a good time to see just how repentant she was.

  "I'm glad to see you're being sensible, my dear. You will be relieved to know that your misadventure hasn't changed anything. Your wedding will proceed as planned, albeit slightly delayed."

  "Father-"

  "I won't hear a single word of objection," he told her adamantly.

  "You'll hear more than just a word," she said, just as adamant as he was. "I can't marry Joel. Stepha­nie married him."

  He stared at her wordlessly.

  "Ask her, Father."

  If there was one thing Marcus could not abide, it was to have something sprung on him. His brows drew together darkly as he marched to the door to summon his younger daughter. But as soon as he opened the door, Stephanie stumbled into the room, having failed to hear her father's approach. She stood there, shamefaced at being caught eavesdrop­ping.

  "Is it true?" Marcus demanded furiously. "Are you married to Joel?"

  Stephanie trembled. She never had been able to cope with her father when he was angry. She couldn't meet his eyes, but she managed to whisper, "Yes."