His Heart's Revenge (The Marshall Brothers Series, Book 2)

by Jo Goodman

  Katy took the tumbler and raised it to her lips. One swallow seemed to blister her insides and bring tears to her eyes. She gave it back hurriedly, making a face. "You know I don't like whiskey."

  "You looked as if you could use a drink in spite of that fact."

  "That is quite the story. Your reporters are sure of everything?"

  "Everything."

  Katy was silent a moment. "It was not just for revenge, was it?"

  "No, not just for revenge. In the beginning, perhaps, but revenge did not sustain me. I pursued this story because it was a national scandal, not for personal reasons. The congressman will not see it that way, but it's true. You taught me a lot about revenge, Katy. Sometimes I wonder why I have been so fortunate, when it all could have ended so differently."

  Katy was in his arms then, her head against the curve of his shoulder. He held her closely and allowed the shudder that went through her to pass into him. He remembered the look in her eyes when she first woke. "You went to see Ria today, didn't you?" he asked.

  "She didn't even know me," Katy said softly. "She sat there in her room, staring out the window, and never acknowledged my presence. She holds her arms cradled in front of her, just as if she were holding her baby, and she rocks back and forth in a chair that doesn't move."

  "She will get the best care at Jennings Memorial." Logan knew it was small comfort to Katy. It was little comfort to him as well. He thought he could very well have killed Ria if Liam had not started shouting from below that he had Victoria safe in his arms. With his child unharmed, Logan was able to pull Ria to safety. She fought him, cursed him, and screamed at him to let her go. Logan might have done exactly that if he hadn't realized her intention was to throw herself off the balcony.

  In the end Katy helped him restrain Ria while Michael looked on dispassionately.

  "I know," said Katy, bringing Logan's thoughts back to the present. "It seems so unfair, though. I wanted it to be Michael sitting there, locked in that room, alone and quite mad. I want him to be here now so you can hit him again."

  A small smile lifted the corners of Logan's mouth. Rarely had he known such satisfaction as the moment when Ria's strength was exhausted, and he was able to give his complete attention to Michael Donovan. Logan's powerful right hook caught Michael unaware and laid him out cold. At the time Logan had regretted the accuracy of his blow. He would have liked an excuse to knock Michael down again. "Say the word and I will find him."

  "No," she said. "I don't want his head. I want as few reminders of Michael Donovan as possible. I will never hold Ria as responsible for what happened as I do Michael. He pushed her toward madness. I think he would have been grateful if we had allowed Ria to fall."

  Logan was certain of it. Like Katy, he felt nothing so much as pity for Ria. He was not as sure they shared similar feelings about Michael. Katy wanted to forget him, and Logan still wanted to hurt him. It would be some time before Logan knew he could come around to Katy's way of thinking. "Are you falling asleep on me?" he asked when he felt her suppress a yawn.

  "No."

  Sweet liar, he thought. "In that case..." He stroked her hair. He held the weight of one honeyed curl in his palm, balancing it carefully as though it was water and he was a thirsty man. He touched the silky curl to his mouth.

  "What are you doing?" she asked sleepily.

  "Drinking." He let her hair slide off his palm. His fingers trailed across the back of her neck, and he drew her hair to one side and let it fall over her shoulder. Her head was tilted now, the elegant line of her neck vulnerable. He kissed her there, just below her ear. Her breath was warm on his cheek. She stirred against him, and Logan realized he had definitely engaged her interest.

  "You are a provocative woman," he said.

  "You must mean provoking."

  He smiled and kissed her again, this time at the curve of her neck and shoulder. He could feel her hum of pleasure against his lips. "That, too."

  The touch of him sent a delicious mixture of languor and excitement through her. "We shouldn't." Katy's hand fell on Logan's shoulder. "We don't have the house to ourselves."

  "Shh. I locked the door."

  "Oh." Katy sighed as his lips moved to the underside of her jaw and his fingers began to twist at the buttons of her gown. Her hands slipped under Logan's jacket and eased it over his shoulders. Their arms tangled as he worked her buttons and she worked his. Katy's mouth opened under his, tongues touched, teased. Once they moved in the same direction at the same moment. Their noses bumped. They reared back, startled. He smiled a little sheepishly, she a little shyly. The moment had an endearing sort of awkwardness that made them think back to a certain hayloft and another time.

  "How young I was," she said a shade wistfully.

  "How young we both were."

  She nodded. The centers of Katy's eyes were darkening. Desire flushed her cheeks. Placing her palms on either side of Logan's face, she leaned forward and brushed the tip of her nose to his, then kissed him full on the mouth.

  Logan eased them off the settee and onto the floor. He kicked a stool out of their way. It fell on its side with a soft thud that neither of them heard. They shared a growing sense of urgency that made them reluctant to take too much time with tiny buttons and stockings and studs. They took off what they had to and pushed aside the rest.

  "You are very good for me," she whispered against his ear. She was filled with him. Her thighs cradled him; her arms embraced him. His skin was warm against hers, and she knew the shape of her body by the contrast with his. The musky male scent of him was tantalizing. The moist suck of his mouth raised a response wherever it touched her.

  "Right now, I would rather be very good to you."

  There was no question of that and Katy told him so, then she returned his every expression of love.

  The floor only seemed uncomfortable in the aftermath. "I suppose we could move to the settee," he said.

  Katy noticed he did not make any move in the direction. Instead, he was lazily rubbing his foot against hers.

  Except for righting the clothes they had not discarded, Katy and Logan stayed precisely where they were. Katy's head rested against Logan's outstretched arm. Her hand lay on his chest inside his open shirt. His heartbeat filled her palm.

  "I do love you, Logan Marshall."

  He turned a little then to see her better. "I hope you never come to your senses," he said, half-teasing, half-meaning it.

  She smiled. "I came to my senses a long time ago. Do not think I didn't. I know you for what you are, Logan, and I love you because of it."

  "Warts and all."

  Katy thought of her frog prince. She kissed his cheek. "Oh, darling, you have no idea how true that is."

  The End

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  London, October 1820

  They came for the baby first. Colin remembered because he was eight—old enough to grasp the loss, too young to prevent it. He had expected it would happen but expectation alone did not prepare him. He had not been able to prepare his brothers.

  Not that Greydon could have understood. He was the baby they came for. With his round face and engaging smile it was natural that he would be chosen. Grey had no real knowledge of his circumstances or surroundings, Colin thought. At five months he did not know he already had a family, albeit a smaller one than he had had three months earlier. Young Greydon was all gurgling laughter and chubby, flailing limbs. He
charmed without effort and without conscience, as naturally as breathing and eating and crying.

  So when Grey sighed contentedly as he was lifted into the woman's arms, Colin tried to remember that it didn't make his baby brother a traitor.

  Beside the doorway, just inside the headmaster's office, Colin stood holding his younger brother's hand. Decker was only four but he was willing to stand at Colin's side, his small body at attention while the couple from America made their decision about the baby.

  The next minutes were an agony as the headmaster indicated the two boys and asked the question of the couple with careless indifference: "Will you have one or both of the others?” The man turned away from his wife and seemed to notice the boys for the first time. The woman did not glance in their direction.

  "They're brothers," the headmaster said. "Colin. Decker. Come here and stand. You will make the acquaintance of Greydon's new parents."

  Colin's last hope that the couple would not choose Grey vanished at the headmaster's words. Dutifully he stepped forward, Decker in tow. "How do you do, sir," he said gravely, extending his free hand to the man.

  There was a surprised pause, then a low, appreciative chuckle from the man as he returned the handshake and greeting. Colin's narrow hand was swallowed in the man's larger one. In later years, try as he might, Colin could not put features to the man's face. It was the dry, firm handshake he remembered, the deep, lilting chuckle, and the momentary surge of hope he felt.

  The man looked at his wife who was coaxing another smile from the baby in her arms. It was easy to see she was already in love with the child. There would be no difficulty passing the baby off as their own. No one among their family or friends would have to know it was an adoption.

  "I'm afraid not," he said, letting go of Colin's hand. "My wife and I only wanted a baby." Because he was uncomfortable with two pairs of eyes looking up at him he added to the headmaster, "You shouldn't have brought them here. I told you from the first we were only interested in an infant."

  The headmaster did not flinch under the rebuke. Instead he deflected it, turning his head sharply toward the boys and ordering them out of the room. His stiff, accusing tone made it seem that their presence in the office had never been his idea at all, but theirs.

  Colin released Decker's hand. "It's all right," he said quietly. "You go."

  Decker's wide blue eyes darted uncertainly between Colin and the headmaster. It was at Colin's urging, rather than the headmaster's stony glare, that Decker hurried from the room.

  "I would like to say farewell to my brother," Colin said. He had a youthful voice, but the dark eyes were old well beyond his years and he stood his ground as though planted there.

  The headmaster was prepared to come around his desk and bodily remove Colin. He looked to his guests for some indication of their wishes in the matter.

  The man raised his hand briefly in a motion that kept the headmaster at bay. "Of course," he said. "Dear? This child would like to say good-bye to his brother."

  With obvious reluctance the woman pulled her attention away from the baby. Her generous smile faded as she looked down at Colin. The dreamy, captivated expression in her blue eyes slipped away. "Oh, no," she said flatly. There was a hint of gray at the outer edge of her eyes, like the beginnings of ice on a lake. "I don't want that boy touching my baby. Look at him. Anyone can see he's sickly. He may harm the child."

  It was as if he had been struck. The impact of the words caused Colin's thin body to vibrate. He could feel heat creeping into his cheeks as he flushed deeply with equal parts anger and shame. In that moment he knew he was standing there because he couldn't move, not because he didn't want to.

  "Is the boy ill?" the man asked the headmaster. "My wife's right. He's very thin."

  "He doesn't eat," the headmaster said. The glance he leveled at Colin darkened considerably and the warning was clear. "He's really had little appetite since he arrived. My wife believes the... um, incident... affected him more than the others. It's understandable, of course, being the oldest."

  As if there were no other conversation in the room, Colin said again, "I'd like to hold my brother." This time he held up his arms.

  The man prompted his wife gently. "Dear? Where can be the harm?"

  She did not accede immediately, but considered her options for several long seconds. Colin watched her eyes shift briefly toward the door as though she were toying with the idea of fleeing the room. In the end she gave him the baby accompanied by a stiff, icy admonishment not to drop him.

  Colin held his infant brother to his small chest, cradling the boy as he had on so many other occasions these past three months. Turning away from the adults, ignoring the woman's sharp intake of breath, Colin adjusted the baby's blankets and smoothed his muslin gown. "I'll find you," he said, his lips barely moving around the words. "I promise, I'll find you."

  Greydon cooed obligingly and beat his small fist against Colin's shoulder.

  "I think that's long enough," the man said as his wife took a step forward to hover over the brothers.

  The headmaster addressed Colin. "Give Greydon back now."

  Colin did not so much return his brother as his brother was taken from him. He did not wait to be dismissed a second time. He could not leave the headmaster's darkly paneled office quickly enough. His gait was stiff and his spine rigid. Only his lower lip trembled uncontrollably as he crossed the floor. He barely heard the woman's words and at the time didn't fully comprehend the impact they would have.

  Tickling the baby's chin, she said softly, "I don't think I care for the name Greydon at all."

  * * *

  It was only three weeks later that Decker left Cunnington's Workhouse for Foundlings and Orphans. Colin had thought he would have a longer time with Decker. It was not so usual for four-year-old orphans to be placed with a family. The ones who could understand their fate at so young an age were reconciled to the prospect of servitude or apprenticeship. It seemed an infinitely more desirable alternative than remaining at Cunnington's until twelve years of age, then being put on London's unforgiving streets. A boy who didn't know how to fend for himself might be taught thievery if he was judged to be quick-witted and light-fingered by one of the London bands. If he caught a pimp's eye, however, he was more likely to learn the skin trade and ply his wares until his looks faded or disease wasted him.

  Colin wanted none of those things for Decker so he was resigned to the fact that Decker's departure from Cunnington's was necessary, if not welcome. He wanted to be happier for his brother, thought he should be happier, but in his heart of hearts he knew he was also jealous. And afraid. And now alone.

  The couple who chose Decker among the score of other children were a more satisfactory pair in Colin's eyes than the couple who had taken Grey. The wife was handsome, not pretty, but she had a serene smile and a quiet way about her that smoothed the anxious lines between Decker's brows and eased Colin's mind. Her husband was reserved but polite, a bit uncertain what to make of Decker's constant questioning until his wife said indulgently, "Why, answer him, cher. Just as you do me." That was when the man spoke. His voice was a deep, rich baritone, the edges of his words crisp and defined. It was a voice that inspired confidence and Colin guiltily wished that he might be chosen in place of his brother or at least that he might be permitted to accompany him.

  The headmaster tried again. "Perhaps you will consider Decker's brother also?"

  The woman's kind eyes alighted on Colin. Sadness and pain warred in her expression and then Colin flushed deeply, recognizing pity when it was turned in his direction. "We'd take them all if we could," she said to the headmaster. "Ce n'est pas possible."

  Her husband nodded. "She means it all," he said. "We would if we could. And the child must be healthy. There's the voyage to think of. We have a long trip ahead."

  Colin slipped out of the headmaster's office quietly. In the dimly lighted hallway he sucked in a ragged breath and swallowed the hard, aching lu
mp in his throat. If he closed his eyes he knew he would see the woman's piteous look. He didn't want her pity. In truth, he wanted her gratitude. Did she think her new son's sturdy little body was a happy accident of nature?

  In anticipation of the evening meal, Colin's stomach actually growled. It had been a long time since he had heard that sound. In the months since coming to Cunnington's he had accustomed himself to eating less in order that his brothers might have more.

  He had done what he could for them. Now he had to think of himself.

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  Meet Jo Goodman

  Jo Goodman is a licensed professional counselor working with children and families in West Virginia's Northern Panhandle. Always a fan of the happily ever after, Jo turned to writing romances early in her career as a child care worker when she realized the only life script she could control was the one she wrote herself. She is inspired by the resiliency and courage of the children she meets and feels privileged to be trusted with their stories, the one that they alone have the right to tell.

  Once upon a time, Jo believed she was going to be a marine biologist. She feels lucky that seasickness made her change course. She lives with her family in Colliers, West Virginia. Please visit her website at www.jogoodman.com.

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2