Diana had to smile at that, and she replaced the towel around her, running her fingers through the slightly drier locks of her hair.
Wyatt leaned against the bedpost, his eyes still on Diana’s hair, though she was sure he wasn’t seeing anything at all. “One day, Tom and I stumbled upon a secret gambling circle in the back of one of the abandoned smithy shops. It was the middle of the day, yet they were all starting in with drink, well on their way to being insensible. We hid and watched as they began to show off their best cheats to each other, swapping stories about games they’d won with their tricks. Men they’d ruined, and the attractiveness of the wives of those men.”
A cold shiver ran down Diana’s spine and she turned around, leaning against the dresser, watching Wyatt now.
“I did what I’d always been told to do,” Wyatt said. “I ran for home and told my father everything I had seen and heard. Tom backed me, adding in a few things I had forgotten, and even some identities of the men.”
“What did your father do?” Diana asked, hardly daring to speak at all for fear he would stop.
Wyatt swallowed with difficulty. “He took three deputies, one of them Tom’s brother, and went to the smithy to arrest them. What Tom and I didn’t see was that some of the men were armed.”
No… Oh, please, no…
A hand moved to cover Diana’s heart as dread filled it.
“My father was shot where he stood,” Wyatt told her vacantly. “Squarely in the chest, dead before he hit the ground. Tom’s brother was wounded, but survived. Most of the group got away, but eventually they were all tracked down, mainly by townspeople who vowed to have my father’s final duty fulfilled.” He looked up at Diana, trying for a smile. “A few years later, I became a soldier, then a Pinkerton, all to make my father proud and live up to the man he was. I didn’t realize I blamed myself for his death all that time until I heard about what was happening here.”
Diana crossed to him quickly, dropping before him and taking his hands in hers. “That wasn't your fault, love. How could it be?”
He ran a thumb over the back of her hand. “Tonight was my fault.”
“Tonight is over,” she insisted firmly. “And nothing happened.”
“It could have,” Wyatt whispered.
“It didn’t.” She smiled and squeezed his hands. “I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get you out of there. I didn’t think you’d leave.”
“I wasn't going to,” he admitted. “Wouldn’t have.”
Her heart ached at his words. “But?”
His thumb moved against her skin again and again, almost insistently now. “I couldn’t let you be at risk. I couldn’t let you get hurt. You…” He broke off and reached out to touch a long strand of her dark hair. “You said you needed me. No one ever has before.”
Diana felt her chest tighten as Wyatt wrapped the hair around his finger, the same tension coiling within her. “I meant it, Wyatt. I do need you.”
Wyatt cupped her cheek, her hair still around one finger. “I would have died except for you. You saved me, and not just my life.”
“That’s what partners do, right?” she managed, her breath unsteady, her knees shaking.
He nodded very slowly. “Right. But you're also my wife.”
Her lips curved in a smile. “So I am,” she whispered.
He smiled in return, then brought her hands to his lips, kissing them softly over and over. “You’re shaking,” he murmured, rubbing his hands over hers to warm them.
She exhaled shakily. “I’ve been shaking since we left the Walshes,” she confessed weakly. “I’m not as brave as I thought.”
Wyatt shook his head and kissed her hands again. “You’re braver. Come here.” He tugged on her hands, pulling her from the floor to sit beside him. He cupped her face in his hands and searched her eyes. “You’re an incredible woman, Diana McGrath.”
She reached up and touched his cheek, heart soaring. There was so much she wanted to say, so much she should have said, but all of it became lodged in her throat, and all she could do was smile as her eyes began to burn with tears.
Diana McGrath. That was her name, wasn’t it? And she very much liked the sound of it.
Wyatt tilted her head down and pressed his lips gently to her forehead, lingering for a very long moment before touching his brows to hers. One of his hands began to stroke along her hair, long and soothing strokes. “I love your hair,” he whispered, laughing to himself. “Every time you take it down, I can barely look anywhere else.”
She brushed her nose against his, sighing and smiling as she slid her hand to his neck. “It’s my best trick, and my very favorite.”
“It works,” he assured her. “It works every single time.”
His lips were on hers then, gentle and teasing, soothing and tender. She pressed the back of his neck, and he gave more, though there was no frenzy of passion, no madness that prevailed. This was all sweetness and comfort, aching and filled with need, and somehow more for being less.
It was over shortly after it began, and she gave into impulse by wrapping her arms around him, hugging herself close. His arms circled her at once, holding her just as tight.
They had survived hell together and come out stronger, closer, bonded in an undeniable way. They may have been partnered together, assigned based on skills and temper and who knows what else, but there was nothing of that between them now. This was real, far more real than anything else in her life. She had never felt this way about another human soul, but here in his arms, all was right in her world, and she found herself longing to remain here forever.
Everything was different now. Absolutely everything. Walking back to the boarding house in borrowed clothing in the morning light, bags in hand, pretending they had only just arrived, Wyatt had felt something new within him, something that flared every time he looked at Diana.
He’d known his feelings were strong before, even when he’d been out of his head in recent days, but now…
Now completely overshadowed what had been then.
He’d made a number of decisions the night before as she had slept and he had pretended to, some professional and some very much personal. There was a great deal to be done, and he was suddenly anxious to get started. No, anxious was too neurotic a word for it. Excited was more like it. Eager. Willing. Delighted.
A host of other things, terrified being among them.
But first, there was only preparing to leave New Albany altogether, especially before anyone decided the Hendersons were not at all what they seemed.
Wyatt watched as Diana took items from her carpetbag and replaced them in her trunk, smiling to himself. She was surprisingly methodical for a woman, which he would never have guessed before, but it was difficult not to notice now. Everything was in order, yet she was able to improvise at a moment’s notice.
Quite an intriguing woman, his wife.
She began to pull a dress from the trunk when he cleared his throat. “You may as well leave it. We’ll be catching one of the afternoon trains today.”
Diana froze, then glanced over her shoulder at him. “What?”
“We’re done here,” he said calmly.
Immediately she shook her head. “No, no, there’s more to do, more to uncover, and the town…”
“We can’t save everyone,” he interrupted gently. “That wasn’t the mission. We have all the information we can get from New Albany, and we can't do more without risking our covers. Time to go.”
Diana turned completely now and folded her arms, eying him speculatively. “You can say that? You can walk away, just like that?”
He nodded once. “You reminded me that there is more to this than my own vendetta. The mission is what is important. We’ve accomplished our mission. It’s time to let someone else take the next step.”
She blinked slowly once, then again. Then her perfect lips curved into a wry smile. “You were actually listening to me?”
“I always listen to you,” he admi
tted with a surprising rawness.
Her brilliant green eyes widened, and her cheeks flushed in a way that made him want to laugh. As much as his effect on her was visible, hers on his was invisible. No less potent, only less obvious.
How had he ever spent any amount of time without her in his life?
Diana wet her lips carefully and cleared her throat. “What will we tell Foster?”
He’d thought of that, and he grinned. “Simple. My sister in Salem received word that our mother is unwell, and we are going to be with her. Unexpected, yet not unusual.”
She nodded in thought and agreement. “And where are we really going? Back to Denver, or another stop in Indiana?”
“Not sure, actually,” he admitted, shoving his hands into his trouser pockets. “What do you think?”
Diana made a face of consideration, then exhaled. “More Indiana. If we knew the main player down here, I’d say report in and get him on the watch list, but with only Reverend Hughes in Salem? We need more.”
“I agree,” he told her. “Our list of possible members is probably accurate, but as far as who is in charge? It could be anyone.”
“Right. Either way, I think you’re right. Let’s get out of here and start over somewhere else.”
She had no idea how good that sounded, and not in the context she meant.
He cleared his throat quickly and gestured for the door. “Right, let’s go downstairs and get some food, and let Foster know our plans. The sooner we’re out of here the better.”
She wiped her hands on her skirt, patting the hidden pocket he now knew about, and came to the door.
He grinned at her. “I still can’t believe that’s where you hid your gun.”
Diana winked. “Skirts with pockets are a wonder to any woman. Cutting through the pocket and through the layers of petticoats to reach a thigh holster designed for me… Well, that was just poetic.”
Wyatt chuckled and shook his head as they moved to the stairs and started down.
Foster was behind the counter going over the books, but looked up as they came down, beaming at once. “Mr. and Mrs. Henderson! What a delight to have you back. Would you like some breakfast?”
“Please,” Wyatt said with a pat to his stomach. “And if you could tell your boys to bring our trunks down, I fear we must leave today.”
The innkeeper’s face dropped. “Oh what a shame! And you’re only just arrived from Salem!”
“I know,” Diana groaned, slipping her arm around Wyatt’s waist. “But his sister received a letter from their mother while we were visiting, and she is not doing well at all. As we have no children and no current commitments, we offered to go to her and take care of her for a time.”
Foster tutted sympathetically. “What good Christian people you are! We will help you on your way, sure enough. Clara!” He clapped loudly, and a dark-haired teenage girl appeared. “Find some breakfast for the Hendersons, please. And tell the boys to fetch their trunks.”
Clara bobbed a curtsey, and turned back for the kitchen.
Diana looked towards the kitchen, then back at Foster. “I don’t recognize Clara. Is she here to help Cathleen?”
Foster’s face hardened briefly. “Cathleen no longer works here. The girl was growing too weak, and could not keep up with her tasks. We gave her enough pay for a ticket to a second cousin in Chicago, and she’ll no doubt find better work there.”
Wyatt carefully hid his reaction and felt Diana’s arm tighten around him. A girl of eight years old travelling by herself to a great city like Chicago? To see relations she likely barely knew? He didn’t like that one bit.
He looked down at Diana, who looked up at him, and he took a long moment to enjoy looking at her, smiling and gently rubbing her back. The alarm in her eyes faded and was replaced by a warmth that only made him smile all the more. He winked at her, and as if on cue, her cheeks flamed.
She ducked away at once, moving for a table, fidgeting with her hair. Wyatt watched her go, a tenderness filling every part of him, and a newfound longing rising.
Foster chuckled behind the counter. “Your wife seems rather taken with you, Mr. Henderson. How long have you been married?”
“Not long enough,” Wyatt sighed, turning back. “And I’m just starting to realize it.”
“Ah, well,” Foster sighed, wiping down the counter. “As long as you can still make her blush.”
Well, he could certainly do that. He patted the counter once. “Watch this,” he said, pushing off.
Diana looked up as he came towards her, smiling suspiciously. He took one of her hands and pulled her up to a standing position, then cupped her cheek with one and pulled her in for a long, slow, painstakingly thorough kiss. By the time he broke off, neither of them were particularly steady, and her complexion was rosier than sunset.
“Now there’s a charming look,” he whispered, the words more of a pant.
She flicked a sharp slap of her fingers against his chest, drawing a chuckle from him, and one from the counter behind them.
“There you are, Mr. Henderson,” Foster called out cheerily. “She’s quite done for now. And I think you could give it right back, Mrs. Henderson, and get a similar response.”
“He would only be so fortunate,” Diana returned with an impish tilt of her head.
“Wouldn't I, though?” Wyatt murmured so only she could hear.
“Shh!” she hissed, her eyes widening.
Mr. Foster laughed heartily, picking up a box of bottles from a corner of the bar. “Too right, Mrs. Henderson!” He suddenly groaned loudly and dropped the box back onto the counter, his face going pale, his breath hissing through his teeth as he gripped one upper arm.
“Foster?” Wyatt moved to the counter, Diana right behind him.
The older man waved them off with his other hand before replacing it on the injured arm. “Not to worry. Took a fall yesterday and cut my arm. I quite forgot about it.” He uncovered it and looked, wincing. “Oh, my wife won’t be pleased.”
Wyatt stared in shock at the arm, and the blood currently staining the sleeve. It was not a scratch from a fall, not even close. Wyatt had seen far too many of these wounds in his life to ever mistake them.
That was a bullet wound, and one that was all-too perfectly placed.
Diana covered her mouth quickly, then dropped her hand. “Goodness, Mr. Foster. You’d best get that rebound. Mrs. Foster can save it easily while the blood is fresh, I promise you. Hurry!”
Foster nodded, smiling warmly at them. “Right you are. Back in a moment.”
The moment he was gone from the room, Diana turned to Wyatt, eyes round. “He’s the leader?” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “How?”
“By being a very good actor,” Wyatt replied in a similar tone. “I’d have put money on Albright or Harris, not Foster. Blast it…” He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling roughly and shaking his head. “We have to tell Sheriff George before we leave. Not to take action, but to keep an eye out. He can be a source for us. And Jesse, too. I’ll write to him before we leave.”
“Good thinking,” Diana agreed. “And Cathleen was likely dismissed because of his prejudice, especially after the Walshes. Wyatt, we have to find her.”
“We will,” he assured her, rubbing her arms. “We’ll eat, and then head out. Georges first, then the station. Hopefully she’s still there.”
Breakfast was brought out quickly, and they ate even more quickly. The Foster boys loaded their trunks into a wagon and offered to deliver them to the station for them, which they gratefully accepted. Then, making their polite but hasty farewells, they made their way to the George home to report on their findings.
The sheriff was just as surprised as they were, but promised not to make any sudden moves in the hopes of gaining more useful information. He would keep an eye on everything and send word if things changed, as well as send the message onto Jesse to do the same for the area.
All told, they had discovered what was o
ccurring, who was in charge, and gained some very reliable assets in the area. He would call that a successful mission by any respects, and knowing now what they did, they could not avoid reporting in with this. And a telegram could be too easily intercepted.
This required a personal delivery, and that meant his time with Diana could come to an end far more quickly than he would like.
He couldn’t do it, couldn’t sign away a life with her now he knew what it was like. He’d only taken up this ridiculous venture with that promise, but now…
He was silent as they rode to the station, thoughts awhirl and heart skittering.
An Agent for Diana (The Pinkerton Matchmaker, Book 10) Page 13
