by Bobbi Smith
“Delight!” Renee’s friendly call drew her attention and she smiled in relief as she saw her approaching. “I didn’t know you were back home! When did you return?”
“The first of the week,” Delight confirmed as they embraced with affection.
“Is your uncle well?”
“He’ll be fine, I’m sure.” Delight told the half truth easily, but she had to stifle the urge to jump nervously at the sound of Marshall’s voice coming up behind her. She had never realized that Jim and Marshall sounded so much alike. “Marshall, it’s good to see you again.”
“Delight, you look as lovely as ever.”
“Thank you, kind sir,” she grinned up at him, marveling suddenly at how much he resembled Jim.
Marshall sensed something odd about the way Delight was looking at him and he gave her a curious half smile. “Is something wrong?”
Delight blinked, confused by the deviousness of her own subconscious. “No, not at all. I was just thinking of how handsome you are, but I didn’t want to say anything because I know how jealous your wife gets.” She was proud of herself for her quick comeback and laughed in good humor with Renee.
“I suppose he could be considered good-looking if you go for older men,” Renee teased, looking up at him in a mocking, critical way.
“Have I aged well?” he quipped.
“I did a good job when I picked you. You’re holding up beyond all expectations,” she retorted, and he laughed loudly.
Delight listened to their loving banter silently, knowing how deep their feelings for each other really went. Renee had told her of their tempestuous courtship and of the tragedy that had struck right after their marriage, when Marshall had been kidnapped and presumed dead. Only the strength of Renee’s love had seen her through those terrible months when she’d been so alone and pregnant with Roger. Delight envied their deep devotion to each other and couldn’t help but wonder what it would have been like if she and Jim had fallen in love.
She had tried not to think of Jim all week, but he had constantly haunted her thoughts. She had tried to hate him, too, but she couldn’t. The love she felt for him ran too deep; instead, she felt a deep disappointment that he hadn’t believed in her. His accusations had been so cruel….
“So much has happened while you were gone…I just don’t know where to begin,” Renee was saying, and Delight smiled politely.
“Like what?”
“Well, you know how I’d been wanting you to meet Marshall’s brother, Jim?”
“Yes.” Delight kept her face frozen, knowing what news was coming next.
“He went and announced his engagement to Annabelle Morgan without any forewarning at all.”
“Really? Annabelle Morgan…I don’t believe I know her.”
“She’s here tonight,” Renee confided. “I’ll introduce you as soon as I see her again.”
Wonderful—Delight thought. It was bad enough that she had to keep away from Martin all night, but suffering through Jim’s fiancée was going to definitely take all the fun out of the evening.
“I guess it wasn’t meant to be,” she managed to respond lightly, looking absently around the room.
“I suppose,” Renee said simply. “But I did so think that you two would have liked each other.” She shook her head in confusion.
“I’m sure my Prince Charming is out there somewhere. I just haven’t met him yet,” Delight told her confidently.
As they were talking, Annabelle joined them.
“May I have this dance, Mr. Westlake?” she approached Marshall, smiling at him coyly.
“Of course,” he responded gallantly before introducing her to Delight. “Annabelle Morgan, this is Delight de Vries, a dear friend.”
“It’s a pleasure, um, Delight, is it? What an unusual name,” Annabelle said with little real interest.
“My father chose it.”
“I’m sure.” Annabelle dismissed the conversation, feeling she had little in common with this young woman. “Marshall, shall we?”
Marshall was stunned at Annabelle’s crude attitude toward Delight, but could do nothing more than quickly sweep her out onto the dance floor. Renee looked at Delight helplessly.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Delight hurried to mask her hurt. “I’m used to people wondering about my name. I think I’ll go see how my mother’s doing, if you don’t mind?”
“Of course.” Renee felt that something was terribly wrong, but Delight seemed unwilling to discuss it. She watched quietly as Delight disappeared into the hall and then turned back to watch her husband dance with Annabelle.
Delight stood with a few acquaintances, listening halfheartedly to their gossip. What had seemed interesting to her before no longer held her attention. She found this girl-talk extremely boring and wished idly that Ollie was here so they could have a good “man-to-man.”
Smiling wryly to herself, she was about to turn away when Martin’s voice assailed her.
“Here you are, Delight. I was hoping to find you. Would you care to dance?”
The boldness of his invitation astounded her, but she also knew there was no way she could refuse him.
“Of course, Martin.”
Without hesitation, he led her out onto the ballroom floor just as a waltz was beginning. To those watching them, his embrace seemed friendly, but Delight felt like a butterfly caught and held, pinned to a mat. The heat of his hand on her back dredged up memories she had tried to put from her mind, and she had to force herself not to cringe.
“You dance divinely, my dear. Has anyone ever told you that?”
“No.”
“Well, you do. Are you having a good time?” Martin tried to get her into a conversation, but Delight would have none of it.
“Marvelous.”
“I would like us to at least appear to be friends, Delight,” he finally remarked with a certain threat in his voice.
“Or?”
“Or I can make life uncomfortable for you.”
“Really?”
“I do control the purse strings now, you know.”
“But I have a trust fund.”
“Which will not become yours until you’re twenty-one.”
“So?”
“So, for the sake of your mother, look like you enjoy dancing with me. Not as a lover but as a friend.”
“Naturally,” she sneered, giving him a forced smile. “Is this good enough?”
Martin glared at her for a moment but let it pass. “For a start…for a start.” He had plans for her….
They finished the dance in silence, Delight longing to be away from him and Martin relishing every second that her body was touching his.
Dorrie smiled easily at some remark Wade made as they walked to the refreshment table together.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” he inquired, sensing her aloofness and wanting to break through it.
“Yes,” she answered blandly, not wanting to encourage him too much.
Wade nodded in response to her simple reply. He was frustrated and getting angry. What was wrong with this woman? Was there no getting through to her? Though he had managed to get them onto a first-name basis, she seemed totally uninterested in him as a man and that was a reaction Wade was not accustomed to.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
“Punch will be fine,” she told him easily as she greeted some of her other friends, and Wade went after her drink, leaving her alone momentarily.
Returning with a cup of punch, he handed it to her and then escorted her to two vacant seats nearby.
“Shall we rest for a while?”
“That sounds good.” Dorrie agreed and then, knowing the best way to keep a man happy, she asked him about herself. “Where are you from, Wade? Have you been in St. Louis long?”
“Yes, I was with Captain Lyon back in sixty-one and now I’m with…”
Dorrie’s interruption stopped him. “You were with Nathaniel Lyon’s troops?”
“Yes,” Wade answered seriously, glad that his ploy had worked. He had not been with Lyon, but he knew that her fiancé, Paul Elliot, had been. Elliot had been killed in an early skirmish between Union forces and Confederate sympathizers, and Wade was not above using his death to get to Dorrie.
“Then you might have known my fiancé, Paul Elliot?”
“Elliot?” Wade managed to look pensive. “He was killed, wasn’t he?”
Dorrie looked away quickly, revealing just how deeply she was still affected by the thought of her lost love.
“Yes,” she murmured softly.
Immediately pressing his advantage, Wade took her hand, “Dorrie, I’m sorry if I’ve upset you….” And he almost grinned at his success when she pressed his hand intimately.
“No, I’m all right…really.”
“Would you like to walk out into the hall for a few minutes?” Wade was anxious to get her away from the prying eyes that surrounded them.
“Yes, please.” Dorrie set her glass aside and allowed Wade to escort her from the room.
Once out of the ballroom, Dorrie looked up at Wade with hopeful eyes. “Did you know him?”
Wade managed a pensive look. “Was he blond? Not too tall?”
Dorrie nodded, and, stifling a small sob, she turned quickly away. She was furious with herself for her weakness, but Paul had meant so very much to her.
“Dorrie…” Wade slipped an arm gently about her waist after making sure they were alone. Drawing her nearer, he caressed her back in a soothing motion.
“Marshall, what do you think about…?” Mark’s conversation came to an abrupt end as he and Marshall stepped into the hall to find Dorrie and Wade MacIntosh in a seemingly heated embrace.
Mark drew himself up stiffly as his face paled. Dorrie? MacIntosh? “Marshall, if you’ll excuse me?” Holding himself rigid, he turned and left the house.
Marshall watched Mark leave and then faced his sister. “Dorrie? I believe Renee wanted to talk with you about something important.”
Wade had observed the entire scenario with barely disguised delight. In one bold move, he had eliminated Mark Clayton as a possible rival and broken through Dorrie’s icy reserve. Pleased with himself, he reluctantly let her go.
“I’ll speak with you later,” he told her intimately.
“Thank you.” Giving her brother a cold look, she followed him into the ballroom.
“Dorrie,” Marshall intoned under his breath as they were crossing the dance floor to join Renee, “I usually don’t interfere in your affairs, but…”
“That’s right, you usually don’t, so don’t start now!” she hissed at him, startling herself and him by her vehemence. With her head held high, she hurried ahead of him, leaving him at a loss for words.
Mark rode quickly away from the Taylor house. The cold night air helped to clear his head, but it did little to control the angry jealousy that burned inside of him. How could she? After all the time he’d spent trying to win her over, she let Wade MacIntosh step in and take her in his arms in one night.
Furious with Dorrie and furious with himself for being so patient with her, Mark galloped back to his quarters. No longer would he play the nice guy, content with just a few kind words and an occasional smile from her. He was fed up with her cool, distant manner. He loved her, damn it! He had loved her for years, and it was time she realized that he was not her lap dog! He was a man with the same needs as any other man.
Determination set in as Mark undressed and lay down. He was going to show Dorrie just how much she meant to him. He had been bending to her wishes for too long now. But before he changed his tactics with her, he was going to do some serious checking on Captain Wade MacIntosh. There had been something he didn’t like about the man even before he’d made his move on Dorrie, and Mark was determined to find out everything he possibly could about his background.
Delight undressed slowly, glad that Rose had gone on to bed. What a horrible night! Between Annabelle Morgan’s smugness and Martin’s “friendly” overtures, she was exhausted— mentally and physically.
It had never occurred to Delight that she would run into Annabelle tonight, for they had always seemed to travel in different social circles. But there she’d been, in all of her blond beauty, flashing Jim’s engagement ring and bemoaning the fact that he had been called away on business.
Tears stung her eyes as she thought of Annabelle and Jim together. What a handsome couple they would make. Delight sighed wearily. She was so tired. Nothing seemed to be right in her life. While it was true that she was back home and her mother was well, all she could think about was the night she’d spent in Jim’s arms and how perfect it had been.
Climbing into bed, she curled on her side and hugged her pillow to her. Somehow Delight knew she would have to find a way to get over Jim. She couldn’t go on like this forever…remembering only his love and not his rejection. He had been so furious that morning….
And the thought that she might come face-to-face with him at some future social gathering made her shiver. No, she didn’t need that kind of confusion in her life. She would make certain that she steered clear of Jim and Annabelle.
Closing her eyes, she let sleep overtake her, sweeping her away into the soft clouds of her dreams where a loving Jim eagerly awaited her return.
Chapter Nineteen
Jim strode wearily down the texas deck, his broad shoulders hunched against the vicious assault of the bitter winter wind. Exhaustion showed plainly on his handsome features as he let himself into his office. Quickly shutting the door behind him, he shed his greatcoat and turned up the lamp.
Home…at last they were heading home. His relief was overwhelming. This trip had already dragged on much too long, as far as he was concerned. Opening his bottom desk drawer, he extracted a half-full bottle of scotch and a semi-clean tumbler. Sloshing a liberal amount into the glass, he drank it eagerly in hopes that its fiery warmth would ease the tight knot of tension deep within him.
Sitting down at his desk, Jim leaned back in his chair. Though he was tired, for the first time in days he felt good about himself. He had taken this time on the river to analyze his situation, and he knew now what he was going to do.
The knock at the door brought a “come in,” from him, and Ollie wasted no time getting in out of the cold.
“Problems, Ollie?”
“No. I’m fine. What about you?” he asked, taking off his coat and accepting the drink Jim was offering.
“As of right now, I’m fine, too.”
Ollie looked at him questioningly. “Oh? I know you’ve had a lot on your mind lately…have you finally worked things out?”
“Lord, I hope so.” Jim finished his scotch and put his glass away. He had had enough of drinking for a while. He needed a clear head from now on in.
“So, what have you decided?”
He shrugged. “I’ve done everything I can do where Murphy is concerned.” His tone was almost bitter as he continued. “She obviously doesn’t want to be found.”
As the long days had passed on this trip, Marshall’s suggestion that Murphy might have been a spy had instilled doubts in his mind…doubts that had eroded Jim’s idealized, romantic view of what had taken place between them that night.
Ollie nodded. “So what are you going to do now?”
“Nothing. I’ve wasted enough time looking for her.”
Jim had now managed to convince himself that his time with Murphy had been a momentary aberration…a moment in time magnified beyond all reality by his overactive imagination. Surely no woman could have been as wonderful as he had imagined Murphy to be. Why should he ruin the rest of his life chasing after a dream that in all probability had existed only in his mind?
“Then you’re going to let her go?”
“I have to.” He looked at Ollie grimly. “I have my own life to live. I can’t spend the rest of my days searching for a woman who doesn’t exist.”
“Murphy was no fi
gment of your imagination, Jimmy.” Ollie defended her in her absence.
“Maybe not.” Then Jim blurted out, his manner hostile, “But she damn well could have been a spy!”
“Murphy?” Ollie was incredulous.
“You’re damn right! Right after she disappeared, the word was out that we were the ones carrying the gold.”
“And you think Murphy had something to do with it?”
“She hand-carried the contracts to Marshall. She had ample opportunity to read them.” The possibility of her involvement still made Jim miserable, but he knew Ollie should know the truth.
“Murphy wasn’t a spy,” Ollie stated bluntly. “I know it, and so do you.”
Jim scowled at his friend. “How can you be so sure? It would certainly explain her disappearance.”
“Maybe so, but there could have been other reasons for her leaving like that.” Ollie wanted to go on, but he sensed Jim’s agitation and let the subject drop. If it was easier for him to believe the worst about Murphy, so be it. The long hours of searching for her had certainly taken their toll on him, and he understood Jim’s need to get on with his life.
“We’ll never know, will we?” His tone was sarcastic.
“I don’t suppose we will.”
Having finally spoken out loud the thoughts that had been haunting him ever since he’d left St. Louis, Jim felt as if a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders. His conclusions were logical; his decision to go ahead with his marriage to Annabelle was sound.
“You’re staying with Annabelle, then?”
“Yes.”
It was only a short time later that Ollie left Jim’s cabin. He couldn’t help but feel that Jim was making a big mistake by continuing his betrothal to Annabelle Morgan, but with Murphy gone there was no argument he could use to deter him.
After Ollie had gone, Jim walked slowly over to his bunk and lay down. Thoughts of that night with Murphy assailed him, but he staunchly pushed them from his mind. What had happened between them had been a mistake, and it was in the past. He had his own future to think about, and his future was with Annabelle.
