The horse began to trot and then broke into a canter. Caitlin might as well have been flying. As her mount approached a banner and ran underneath, she sprang straight up and over the stretched fabric, performing a double somersault and landing precisely on the animal's back. The ladies gasped and applauded.
Miss Hockensmith tugged at his sleeve. "Mr. Munroe—"
He pulled his arm away. Caitlin did a series of jumps and acrobatic feats, each more perilous than the last. A second horse was brought out, and she leaped from one back to another as they ran, sometimes somersaulting between. Niall forgot to breathe. Caitlin followed the curve of the ring toward the seats and looked directly at him.
It was impossible, but he could have sworn that their eyes met and locked across that distance. Something snatched annoyingly at his sleeve. He disregarded it and held his breath as Caitlin smiled.
Canvas cracked loudly overhead, tossed by the wind. Caitlin's mount approached the next banner and plunged sharply to the left, its hoof striking the wooden ring. Caitlin lost her balance—only for a moment, but just long enough to leave her unprepared for the next banner.
Niall shot to his feet. Caitlin struck the banner at an awkward angle and flew in the opposite direction to her shying mount. She hit the ground hard.
"My God!" Athena cried. "Niall!"
He needed no further encouragement. Hopping over the low barrier between the seats and the ring, he dashed to Caitlin's sprawled form. If she had been hurt… if she were—
She opened her eyes. "Oh. It's you," she said, slurring her words. "I cannot understand it. Pennyfarthing has always been my best gelding."
"Don't try to speak," he commanded. He stripped off his coat and spread it across her. Others had come, forming a worried wall about them. Harry French pushed his way through.
"Firefly! Are you hurt?"
Caitlin grinned weakly. "I have been better."
Niall glanced up at Harry. "The children should not see this. Please ask the teachers to take them out, and be so good as to distract them in some way until… until this is resolved."
"Naturally, naturally, just as you say," Harry said, looking very near tears. "But we must get a doctor—"
"Of course. Niall, you should send for Dr. Brenner at once."
Athena. Niall cleared his mind enough to look for her, and found her reclining in the arms of the man he recognized as Morgan Holt. He stared into Niall's eyes with unmistakable challenge.
Holt. Niall remembered how the ruffian had remained close to Athena during her first visit, but now he began to wonder what interest Holt had in her. Who was he?
"Please, Niall," Athena said, all brisk purpose and unconcern for her compromising position. "We do not know how badly Caitlin is hurt."
She was right, and he had no time to worry about Morgan Holt at the moment. He turned back to Caitlin and tucked his coat more snugly under her chin. Her face was creased with pain.
"Lie quietly," he told her. "The rest of you, make sure she is kept warm and still. Her injuries may not be obvious to the eye."
The dwarf, Ulysses, stepped forward. "You need not worry, Mr. Munroe. We will take care of her until the doctor arrives."
Niall nodded. "I'll be back within the hour. Athena—"
"I will stay here, with Caitlin," she said. Her quiet conviction promised a lengthy argument if he protested.
"Mr. French, please get my sister her chair," he said. Belatedly he remembered Cecily Hockensmith and the other ladies. Miss Hockensmith stood safely beyond the ring of circus folk, her face set in a frown. The expression quickly transformed to one of worry when she caught his glance.
"Miss Hockensmith," he said, getting to his feet, "will you stay with Athena? I would be much obliged."
"Of course." She smiled tentatively as he made his way through the crowd. "I will do whatever I can."
"Thank you." He pressed her hand in passing and strode toward the tent's wide entrance. Once there he paused, half afraid that Caitlin would not be where he had left her.
But the crowd had dispersed enough to reveal her figure, covered now by a blanket as well as his coat. Harry French brought Athena's chair, and Holt settled her into it. Ulysses knelt beside Caitlin, speaking in his soft, pleasant Southern drawl.
Niall turned on his heel and headed for the carriage. The doctor would see to Caitlin. Now that the performance was effectively ended, time and distance would take care of Morgan Holt, whatever his interest in Athena, and dispose of the very unwelcome complication the circus had caused the Munroes.
He couldn't wait for life to return to normal again.
Chapter 11
Cecily stood with her hand resting on the back of Athena's chair and cursed Niall Munroe for the hundredth time.
Damn him. Damn him for giving in to his sister and her whims, damn him for making eyes at this crude snip of a girl, and damn him for leaving her here with these horrible people and their nauseating sentiments.
"Thank you for remaining," Athena said. "I know that this is not a pleasant situation, but I am grateful."
Cecily smiled. "You know that I would do anything for you and your brother, my dear," she said. She looked with distaste upon the red-haired devil's imp, whose flat chest seemed even less substantial when she lay on her back. What in heaven's name did Niall see in such a creature?
For he had seen something, of that she was sure. Her senses were remarkably keen where her own interests were concerned. She had noted how he ignored her while he watched the girl perform. He had failed to respond to several of her comments. He had left her sitting on the hard chair without a word of explanation and gone running off to be with his new flirt just because she had taken a little fall.
"There, now," the fat old man, Harry French, said to the girl. "It will be all right."
"Of course it will," Athena said. "Niall will get our own doctor. He is the best Denver has to offer."
Caitlin made much effort to return the smile, doubtless basking in the attention. "It is… very kind of you, Athena."
Athena. Cecily shuddered. How could Niall's sister allow the whore to call her by her Christian name? Cecily scowled and felt a prickle sweep up her spine.
Morgan Holt was watching her. He stood too close to Athena, on the other side of the chair, like some black-haired watchdog. It was if he could see right through Cecily and into her thoughts. She had disliked him instantly, but his low status made it possible to dismiss him. That was not so easy when he was a few feet away.
This was what came of Niall's permissiveness. She had thought that battle all but won. Now she must regroup, and consider new strategies to pave the way for Athena's departure from Denver.
She met Morgan Holt's stare and smiled with sure knowledge of her own superiority. So he found Athena attractive, did he? Niall must have observed the way he clung to Athena, and Cecily could easily make Holt's stubborn and inexplicable dedication to the girl sound much more ominous than it actually was.
And as for Miss Caitlin Hughes…
"You should go," Morgan Holt said.
Cecily started. "I beg your pardon?"
"Athena is with us. We don't need you."
Her amazement at his brazen command held her silent for several beats. Athena, talking to Caitlin, hadn't heard. Cecily curled her hand around Athena's shoulder. "I will do no such thing."
Incredibly, he bared his teeth at her. She managed to keep herself from stumbling away to some illusory safety. "How dare you," she whispered.
He took a step toward her. She gasped and placed an equal distance between them.
All at once it seemed that every eye was upon her. The dwarf with his curling golden locks looked up as if he were her equal in height and every other way. One of the clowns leered, and the strong man in his animal skin tunic worked his fists. Hostile, alien gazes met hers everywhere she turned.
The walls of the tent threatened to collapse upon her if she remained another second inside it. She hurried toward the ex
it. Once outside she was able to breathe again. With safety came sense, and righteous anger.
Who did they think they were to send her scurrying away like a frightened rabbit? What must Athena be thinking at this moment… if she had even noticed?
Ignored. First Niall, and now Athena. It was insupportable. And yet, when she set her feet to return to the tent, she found them rooted to the ground.
Morgan Holt was a madman. There was no telling what he might do if provoked, and he had plainly taken as much dislike to her as she had him. It might be best to wait until Niall returned.
She looked about for a place to sit and, finding none, folded her arms and prepared to endure. After far too long, she glimpsed the welcome sight of Niall's carriage turning into the lot. The coachman drove it up the midway and stopped close to the big tent.
Niall jumped out of the carriage, followed more sedately by a bearded and white-haired gentleman. Cecily went to join the men at the fastest pace her dignity allowed.
"Oh, Mr. Munroe," she said. "I am so glad you have returned quickly."
"Why are you not inside with Athena?" Niall demanded, scarcely sparing her a glance. He urged the doctor along with a wave and headed at a blistering clip toward the tent.
Cecily could not keep up. She slowed and allowed the men to precede her. She would not be made a fool of or treated in such a way, not by the Munroes or anyone else. She ought to leave, now, without a backward glance.
And jeopardize your future here? All she need do was swallow her pride and the situation could yet be salvaged and turned to her advantage. Clenching her fists, she prepared to try once more.
"How sad a thing it is to lose a lover."
She spun about to face the one trouper she had not noticed among those hovering over Caitlin—the snake charmer, Tamar. Cecily recoiled. The woman had the usual snakes draped about her shoulders like some grotesque necklace, but it was not that which alarmed Cecily. There was something inhuman about her dark, slanted eyes.
"I… I do not know what you mean," Cecily stammered.
"Oh, but you do." The snake woman smiled. Her teeth were white and slightly pointed at the tips. "This man you want, this Niall Munroe, is slipping through your fingers."
"What do you know of me or Mr. Munroe?"
"I have eyes." Tamar tickled the underside of one serpent's satin jaw with a red-nailed fingertip. "I know that you want this Niall Munroe. I know that our Caitlin also wants him, though she does not admit it. And I have seen how he looks at her and does not look at you."
Hearing her own thoughts laid out so plainly was a considerable shock. This woman, a stranger, had seen the sordid attraction between Niall and the little slut. She might not be the only one.
"Why do you tell me this?" Cecily demanded. "What possible reason—"
"You wish to be rid of your rival, do you not?" Tamar blinked, and Cecily realized with a chill that she had not seen the woman do so since the conversation began.
"Maybe there is something that I also wish. Maybe we can help each other."
"You must be joking." Cecily glanced with disgust at the snake charmer's patently false hair, the garish cosmetics, the gown that concealed so little of her generous figure. "How could you possibly help me?"
"You dislike me, no? Maybe you think I am too low for you, like my snakes?" She smiled. "Never mind. You will agree, because you want the circus gone, as I do. And if Athena Munroe gets her wish, the circus will not go away for a very long time."
"What do you mean? You are to leave Denver now that the performance is over."
"I think not. Because our Caitlin was hurt, your friend Athena has said that she will ask her brother if the troupe may stay at his ranch in the mountains until she is well again. And that may take all winter, no?"
"Preposterous. Niall would never agree."
"Would he not?" Tamar shrugged. "He looks at our Caitlin as if he has never seen a woman before. Do you think that he will let her go so easily?"
The swift and obvious answer died on Cecily's tongue. She became as cold as Tamar and her snakes, examining all the possibilities with calm rationality.
As repulsive as she found the circus folk, and this creature in particular, Cecily had no allies against Caitlin and her tawdry charms. Tamar had presented herself as a fellow conspirator, with keen powers of observation and a cool sense of purpose. She would make a daunting enemy. She doubtless had resources Cecily could not hope to duplicate… if she could be trusted. And if she did not demand too high a price for her services.
"You said you can help me," Cecily said. "What do you propose?"
Tamar licked her lips with a flicker of her tongue. "I know the circus as you cannot. I can hear what is said, and tell you as I have told you of Athena's plans. There are many ways that I can… make difficulties for your lover and our Caitlin when they wish to be together."
Cecily had little doubt of that. "And what do you want in return? You said you wish the circus gone. Why?"
"I, too, have a lover," Tamar said, her eyes growing as cloudy as those of a snake about to shed its skin. "There is one not of our troupe who casts a spell on him, as the girl bewitches your man."
Thinking quickly, Cecily cast through her memory for characters who might fit such a vague description. Who on earth would take such a creature as Tamar for a lover? Whom would she pursue?
Who but one equally as bizarre? Not the dwarf, surely. The albino clown, perhaps—
No. The answer was evident. Which trouper had taken such a strangely personal interest in Athena that first day on the lot? Who had been standing so close, so protectively, to Athena's chair as if he had some special right?
"Morgan Holt," she said. "It is him, isn't it?"
Tamar hissed. "He is my wolf. Mine alone. She will not have him."
Her wolf? Of course. The Wolf-Man. Morgan Holt is the Wolf-Man!
And he had set his sights on Athena.
Cecily smiled. "Let me be sure that we understand one another. You will act on my behalf to keep the girl away from Mr. Munroe, and I will do what I can—within reason, of course—to do the same with Athena and Morgan Holt."
"Then we understand each other." Tamar glanced toward the tent. "Use what I have told you. You will tell me where to send messages when I learn that which is of interest to us both. And you will help me when the time is right."
"Unless, of course, I persuade Mr. Munroe to do as he originally intended, and send your circus away. Then we shall both have what we want with no further trouble."
Tamar inclined her head. "I shall be most curious to see if you succeed."
Cecily found a bit of paper and a pencil in her chatelaine bag and wrote out her address. A definite risk to trust this creature, but she was confident that she could control their partnership. If not, she might as well pack her bags and leave Denver tomorrow.
She passed the folded paper to Tamar and quickly withdrew her hand. "Send a message to me if you learn anything more of use, but be discreet. If you cause me embarrassment, I can assure you that it will become most unpleasant."
"Threats?" Tamar laughed, a husky rattle from deep in her throat, like scales against stone. "I, too, can make threats. But it is better not to be enemies, no? Go to your fine lover before it is too late."
She turned and, with a swing of her hips, left Cecily alone to consider the wisdom of pacts with the devil.
The white-haired doctor put his implements, bottles, and bandages away in his bag and shook his head. Morgan knew that no one else was meant to see the gesture; he glanced at Athena in the chair beside him. She had missed it. Caitlin had not.
"It is so bad then, Doctor?" the equestrienne said, grinning crookedly. "Must I start planning my funeral?"
The old man glanced at Niall Munroe, who crouched at Caitlin's other side. He had hovered over the girl ever since his return with the physician, as possessive as a puma with a fresh kill. Munroe probably didn't think anyone noticed that, either.
"Per
haps we should speak in private, Miss Hughes," the doctor said.
"These are my friends," Caitlin said, bravely ignoring her pain. "I am not afraid for them to hear."
The doctor sighed. "Very well. As I told you before, your leg is broken. I have done what I can to set and stabilize it with a plaster of Paris cast, but time must do the healing. It is my considered opinion that you must have several months of complete bed rest if you ever wish to walk again. If you do not, I fear that you will be permanently—" He hesitated, looking from Niall to Athena.
"Please speak frankly, Dr. Brenner," Athena said. "I am not afraid to hear the truth." She reached down and squeezed Caitlin's finger. "Dr. Brenner has been our physician for many years. I trust his judgment completely. That is why you must do exactly as he says and have rest in a quiet place where you can be properly cared for."
An expectant hush fell over the group. Morgan stared at Niall, bracing for his reaction when Athena proposed her scheme for Caitlin's recovery. He moved an inch or two closer to Athena, his hip against her chair. Not quite touching her, oh, no; if he were to touch her now, after what had happened in her bedroom, he didn't know what he might do.
Carry her off and ravish her? he mocked himself. It was a kiss. That is all. And Athena showed no signs of being either flustered or disturbed in his presence.
She had probably dismissed the kiss, just as he had—an impulsive act swiftly explained as a momentary madness. Better this way. Better that whatever lay between them begin and end with that kiss. Even so, he could not bring himself to leave her side.
"Niall," Athena began. Morgan could feel her body tense, hear the swift intake of her breath. He tightened his grip on the back of her chair.
"Niall, I have been thinking… about how we might help Caitlin." She glanced, once, at Morgan's face, and he smiled at her in encouragement.
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