Rapture's Tempest

by Bobbi Smith

  “There’s nothing to talk about,” Delight said, too quickly.

  “You didn’t get into any trouble while you were gone, did you?” Rose sensed that there was more to Delight’s story than she was telling.

  “No.” Delight dismissed the subject curtly. “Now, why don’t we take a look at those gowns before I go down to dinner?”

  Thwarted in her attempt to get Delight talking about the two weeks she’d been missing, Rose let the matter drop. She knew that something had happened to her, but Delight evidently wanted to forget that those two weeks had ever happened. Rose respected her wishes, but she also knew that she would always be there for her if she ever needed to talk about it.

  Nathan sat closeted with Wade and Annabelle in the shuttered study, his manner nervous and unsure.

  “You say he’s leaving tonight?”

  “Yes, Father. He stopped by just a little while ago to tell me. He said that they were pulling out around midnight.”

  Nathan and Wade exchanged surprised looks. “Do you think this is it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Did he say anything else?” Nathan pushed. “Or give any reason for his abrupt change in plans?”

  “No, nothing.”

  Wade frowned. “We have no proof that he’s moving gold this time.”

  “I know. What if we were to go after him and then discover that he didn’t have the bullion? It would be a wasted effort, and our cover would be blown. No, we’ve got to be careful. I’ll get in touch with the other men and see if they can help keep the boat under surveillance. Maybe we can pick up some more information that way,” Nathan said.

  “I agree,” Wade concurred. “I’ll go down to the riverfront and see what I can find out. If I hear anything important, I’ll report back.”

  “If we don’t get word from you before midnight, we’ll assume that there was no gold on board this trip.”

  “Right.”

  With that Wade was gone, anxious to discover what Mark Clayton and Jim Westlake were up to.

  It was near two in the morning when Wade finally returned to the Morgan house, and he took extra care not to be seen by any neighbors who might wonder at his late-night activities. Nathan and Annabelle were both awake, waiting for him.

  “Well?” Annabelle was as anxious as her father. “What did you find out?”

  Wade helped himself to a glass of bourbon before telling them what he’d learned.

  “They weren’t carrying any gold that I could see, but I wasn’t able to get close enough to really find out what was going on. There was a full armed guard on board, though.”

  “Could they be trying to divert our attention? Do you think they’re on to us?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t heard any new rumors, but I’ll keep checking. Nathan, you’d better get in touch with Gordon Tyndale and make sure that they’re all keeping their mouths shut. The one thing we don’t need is for Clayton and Westlake to find out about us.”

  “I’ll pay Gordon a visit first thing in the morning.”

  “Good.” Wade seemed to relax a bit. “Will I be seeing you both at the Taylors’ Saturday night?”

  “I’ve talked Father into taking me.” Annabelle gave him a knowing look.

  “I hope I’ll have some luck with Westlake’s sister Saturday.”

  “Keep us posted,” Nathan encouraged.

  “Yes, please do,” Annabelle drawled, and Wade smiled at her, aware of her thoughts.

  “I’ll do that,” he agreed, downing his drink. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d better be getting back. Nathan, let me know what Tyndale has to say for his little group. I’d be interested in knowing. I’ll also keep you informed of any rumors I hear concerning the gold shipments and the changing of Westlake’s schedule.”

  “Until the weekend, then.” Nathan walked Wade to the door.

  “Until then.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  The Taylor mansion, so elegant in its Greek Revival style, was ablaze with lights on this cold winter’s night, giving it a welcoming, festive appearance. The soft, muted strains of a waltz drifted across the moon-caressed, icy landscape as the carriages of the late-arriving guests lined up under the portico to discharge their passengers.

  Indoors, Wade MacIntosh stood at the refreshment table surveying the myriad of couples swirling about the dance floor. He usually found this type of social event dull, but tonight he was of a different frame of mind. Tonight, the chase was on.

  Wade had made it a point to arrive extra early just in case Dorrie Westlake did, too, but, so far, his planning had gone unrewarded. Making a definite effort not to overimbibe, he sipped casually from his glass of bourbon while keeping his attention directed to the entry hall and the guests who were just now coming in.

  Wade had noted Annabelle and Nathan’s arrival shortly after his own. Now they were making their way around the room, busily greeting all their friends and acquaintances. It amazed him that no one ever suspected Nathan Morgan of still being an ardent secessionist, for in the beginning he had been quite vocal about his feelings, even to the point of participating in a riot against a Union officer, Captain Nathaniel Lyon, who had arrested some Confederate troops. But that had been a few years ago, and somehow during the intervening years Nathan had managed to portray his position to his best advantage and now enjoyed not only the company of the most ardent of Union supporters, but also their trust.

  Annabelle, Wade knew, was determined to play her part as the lonely fiancée tonight. They all knew that some of the Westlakes were going to be in attendance, and she wanted to impress them with her devotion. She wore a full-skirted off-the-shoulder gown of deep emerald green satin, and her beauty was flawless. Wade was one of many men who envied the absent Jim Westlake.

  With knowing eyes, Wade observed her progress about the room, and when she finally reached his side he gallantly bent over her hand.

  “Your beauty is unsurpassed here this evening, Miss Morgan.” He kissed her hand, his tongue boldly caressing the soft flesh.

  Annabelle stifled a gasp at the brazenness of his move and managed to smile at him serenely. “And your audacity is surpassed only by your passion!” Her tone was scolding, but her eyes sparkled with unfeigned delight.

  “Thank you, my dear,” Wade answered in deep, even tones, the undercurrents strong between them as they both remembered the last night of passion they had shared.

  Annabelle wanted to say more, but her father’s arrival at her side prevented the exchange. Wade shot her a smug look, pleased with himself that he’d gotten the last word with her, and then turned to greet Nathan.

  “Nathan, so good to see you this evening.”

  “It’s good to see you, too, Wade. How did your week go?”

  “I’m afraid it was quite uneventful. And yours?”

  “The same.” Though they were mouthing small talk, both were aware of the underlying substance of their discussion.

  “Wade,” Annabelle broke in, nodding in the direction of the front entry hall, “I do believe my future in-laws have arrived. If you gentlemen will excuse me?”

  “Of course, my dear.” They both were gracious as she headed across the room.

  Annabelle moved with grace and poise in the direction of the Westlakes, who were just now entering the ballroom. She noted with interest that Dorrie seemed somehow more attractive this evening, and she wondered if it was just her sudden awareness of her as a “rival” for Wade’s attention or because she had never taken the time to really look at her before.

  Tall and willowy, Dorrie Westlake was the female counterpart of her good-looking brothers. Her cloud of dark hair, which she preferred to wear loose, was now neatly arranged into a mass of looping curls. Her dark eyes were warm and reflected her intuitive intelligence, which she no longer tried to disguise with what she called “silly feminine airs.” Dorrie had experienced much during the recent past, and she had matured far beyond her twenty-two years. Observing Anna-belle’s ap
proach with barely concealed disgust, she spoke in an undertone to Renee.

  “I told you she’d show up, even if Jimmy was out of town.”

  “Dorrie, be nice!” Renee corrected her opinionated sister-in-law. “Jim has chosen her, and that’s enough for me.”

  “It may be enough for you now, but you weren’t so happy about it when he first told you.”

  “I know, and that was a mistake. I should have been happy for him.” Renee regretted now that she had not been totally supportive when Jim had announced his engagement to the family. “I didn’t notice you raising any protest at the time.”

  Dorrie shrugged, “There wasn’t any point then. But now that I’ve had a chance to see them together…and apart…” She let it drop as Annabelle joined them.

  “Annabelle, what a pleasant surprise. I didn’t know you were going to be here this evening.” Renee greeted her quickly, giving her a small hug.

  “Father wanted to come, and I thought it would be good to get out and socialize for a night. It’s so lonely with Jim gone all the time.”

  “I’m sure it is.” Renee spoke with sympathetic understanding, determined to treat her as family.

  Dorrie was of a different frame of mind, and she cringed inwardly at Annabelle’s sugary sweetness. She had known her for several years and did not like her. Dorrie considered herself a good judge of character, and, in her opinion, Anna-belle didn’t have one. Having watched her in action, Dorrie knew her future sister-in-law to be a totally selfish person who never gave a serious thought to anything but her own desires. She had not spoken her mind to Jim for fear of alienating him, but Annabelle definitely would not have been the girl she would have picked for him to marry. Shrugging mentally, Dorrie realized that her opinion didn’t matter anyway. Jim was a grown man and she supposed he knew what he wanted. Or, at least, she hoped he did.

  “Hello, Annabelle. You look stunning, as usual.”

  Dorrie’s attention returned to the present at Marshall’s comment.

  “Thank you.” Annabelle preened under Marshall’s manly regard. He was a handsome devil, and had he been unattached Annabelle was sure that she would have had a hard time trying to choose between the two brothers. “Dorrie, it’s good to see you again. Your dress is very becoming.”

  “Thanks.” Dorrie’s reply was short and to the point, and she was relieved when she looked up and saw Mark Clayton coming toward her. “If you’ll excuse me?” She begged off, anxious to be away from Annabelle’s phoniness.

  “Dorrie, darling.” Mark took her hand and smiled at her, his affection for her quite obvious. “I’m so glad you came.”

  For years, Mark had loved Dorrie from afar, and her betrothal at the beginning of the war to Paul Elliot, a lieutenant attached to Captain Nathaniel Lyon’s command, had seemed to dash all his hopes of ever winning her hand. Then, when Paul met his untimely death in a military confrontation with Confederate sympathizers, Dorrie had been devastated. It had been over two years now, and, though she was not in mourning, she seemed to him to hold herself aloof from any close involvements with men…especially soldiers.

  Looking at her, Mark knew he would never love any other woman, and that if it took the rest of his life to convince her of his devotion, he would do it.

  “I’m glad you’re here. I wasn’t sure if you were in town or not….” Dorrie had always enjoyed Mark’s company and tonight was no exception.

  “I didn’t have to travel with Jim this trip.”

  “Good.” She met his gaze for a moment and was startled by the intensity of longing she saw there.

  “Will you dance with me?”

  “I’d love to,” she agreed, and he led her out onto the floor just as a waltz began.

  They blended in with the other dancers as they swayed and twirled about the ballroom, Mark totally absorbed in the wonderful sensation of at last holding her in his arms and Dorrie relieved to have been saved from a boring conversation with Annabelle.

  Renee looked up at Marshall, her eyes aglow. “I certainly hope Mark wins her over soon. He loves her so.”

  Marshall grinned at his wife. “You’re an incurable romantic.”

  “You’re complaining?”

  “Never.” He hugged her to his side. “But not everyone is as lucky as we were.”

  “You don’t think they’ll ever get together?” Renee was saddened by the possibility. She thought a lot of Mark Clayton and she knew instinctively that Dorrie would be happy with him.

  “I can’t predict what Dorrie will do anymore. She’s become so in de pen dent that it’s hard to say.”

  “I know.”

  Renee was reluctant to agree with her husband’s assessment, but she had to. Since Paul Elliot’s death, Dorrie had changed. Once her period of mourning for him had ended, she had seemed encased in ice. She had refused to let any men court her and had remained deliberately distant with those few she did consider friends. Renee knew that Dorrie was only trying to protect herself against further heartache, but in the process she was missing out on all the joys that life truly had to offer. Though Paul was dead, Dorrie’s life had gone on, and Renee was sure that Dorrie had not fully accepted that yet.

  “Do you want some punch or would you like to dance?” Marshall invited, his hand resting possessively at her waist.

  “I’d love to waltz,” she told him eagerly before turning to Annabelle. “Annabelle, do you mind if we desert you for a few minutes?”

  “Not at all, providing I can claim your handsome husband for a dance later?”

  “It will be my pleasure,” Marshall told her graciously before leading Renee out onto the dance floor.

  Annabelle watched them go, her eyes narrowing in thought. So, Mark Clayton was in love with Dorrie. That could complicate things. Knowing that she should tell Wade the news, she casually let her gaze sweep the crowd, trying to locate them.

  Though Wade stood in a far corner watching Dorrie Westlake dance with Mark Clayton, his thoughts were of Anna-belle. He wanted to sweep her into his arms and waltz her about the room, but he knew that such a rash action would soon set tongues to wagging.

  Forcing his attention to Dorrie, he was well aware that he should make his move. Setting his mind on a course of action, Wade waited until the music had ended and then made his way, unobtrusively, to her side.

  “Good evening, Miss Westlake,” he greeted her warmly.

  “Good evening, Captain MacIntosh. Do you and Captain Clayton know each other?” Dorrie asked as he joined them.

  “Yes, we’ve met before. Captain Clayton, how are you?”

  “I’m fine, MacIntosh, and you?”

  “Just fine. I’d like to ask Miss Westlake for a dance, if you don’t mind?”

  “Dorrie?” Mark stepped back to let her make the decision, hoping futilely that she would refuse and stay with him.

  “Captain MacIntosh, I’d be delighted.” She took his arm. “I’ll see you later, Mark.”

  Mark watched them leave, his expression guarded, his heart once again disappointed. Would he ever be able to break through the defenses she’d erected against becoming involved with a man again and win her heart? Frustrated but not defeated, Mark moved silently to the refreshment table.

  Annabelle observed Wade’s luck with Dorrie and decided that her warning was immaterial. After all, what woman could resist Wade MacIntosh when he was his most charming? Confident that Wade would win Dorrie over, she went in search of her father.

  Martin sat next to Clara in the Montgomery carriage, but his eyes were on Delight. As usual, he was fighting his desire for her. Even an illicit rendezvous with Sue a little earlier had not relieved the pulsing passion Delight aroused in him. The one thought that kept Martin from total frustration was the fact that he would be able to manuever her into dancing with him tonight. He k new it would be tricky. He would have to catch her in front of a group of her friends so she couldn’t refuse him, but he didn’t care. All he wanted was to touch her and hold her as closely a
s possible, even if it was in front of a hundred people.

  Delight was glad when the carriage finally drew to a halt in front of the Taylors’ home. She had felt the intensity of Martin’s gaze upon her during the whole ride and she was eager to get away from his heated scrutiny. Though he had been totally compliant with her demand that he never come near her or Rose again, Delight still felt threatened by him and she wished that there was some way she could escape from his subtle domination.

  “Here we are.” Martin spoke jovially as he climbed down from their vehicle.

  Turning to aid Clara in her descent, he handed her down and then reached for Delight. She knew that she could do nothing to avoid his handling of her, but the feel of his hands on her waist, even through the thickness of her coat, was repulsive, and she couldn’t suppress a shiver of disgust.

  “Cold, my dear?” He asked.

  “A little,” Delight murmured in response, hurrying away toward the welcoming warmth of the brightly lighted house.

  Martin chuckled to himself as he followed after her with Clara on his arm.

  “It feels so good to be going out again,” Clara told him as they started up the front stairs.

  “I missed socializing, too, but your health is always foremost in my mind.”

  “You’re so sweet, Martin.” Clara pressed his hand in appreciation of his sentiment. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

  Delight was far enough ahead of them that they couldn’t see her expression, and she was glad. His declarations left her nauseous and aching to tell her mother what Martin was really like….

  With a gaiety she little felt, Delight went into the Taylors’ followed closely by her mother and stepfather. After shedding their coats, they entered the ballroom and were immediately surrounded by friends who were eager to welcome Clara back after her extended illness.

  As soon as it was possible, Delight eased herself away from Martin’s side and went in search of a glass of punch. In truth, she wished that she could drink a quick bourbon, for she well remembered the false bravado it had instilled in her the night she’d had her first taste of it with Ollie. But young ladies did not imbibe straight whiskey, so she settled for a mildly spiked punch that did little to settle her taut nerves.