Forever Safe (Beacons of Hope)

by Jody Hedlund

  The mere picture of Butch touching her sent a jolt of energy through Tom. He brought his knee up to Butch’s back and rammed it into the knife wound. Butch flinched but didn’t loosen his grip. Tom kneed him again, this time more forcefully.

  Butch’s thumb slipped away from Tom’s windpipe long enough for him to drag in a breath. But the knife angled dangerously close to Tom’s shirt, close enough that he could feel the prick of the blade through the linen.

  If he couldn’t physically dislodge Butch, he’d have to roll over and throw him off. Before Tom could make his big move, a crack sounded against the back of Butch’s head.

  Butch’s eyes widened. The pressure of his thumb ceased. The hand holding the knife wavered.

  Tom didn’t waste any time trying to figure out what had happened. Instead, he slammed Butch’s arm and knocked the weapon into the air so that it landed a dozen feet away.

  Butch wavered back and forth like a drunk man, and fell off Tom sideways, hitting the ground with a thump. Then he lay motionless in the sandy grass.

  Victoria stood above them, a board in her hand. For a moment she stared at Butch, her face a mask of fury and determination. She toed him with her stocking foot, and when he didn’t respond, she took a step away, her eyes registering worry. “Did I kill him?”

  Tom sat up and sucked air into his starved lungs. A glance at the brute told Tom the man was still breathing. “No. You knocked him out.”

  “Let’s tie him up before he revives.” Victoria lifted the board as though preparing to strike Butch again if he so much as batted an eyelash.

  Tom was already removing one of his suspenders. He rolled Butch to his stomach and made quick work of binding his hands with the sturdy strap. The blood from the knife wound Tom had inflicted had formed a wide spot on the man’s coat. Tom slit a long bandage from the man’s shirt and wrapped it around his torso to staunch the flow. All the while he worked, Victoria watched, pale and silent.

  “Will he live?” she asked once Tom had used Butch’s bootlaces to tie his feet together.

  “Yes. I’ll make sure of it.” He didn’t want Victoria to live with the guilt of this man’s death on her conscience, even if he deserved to die. Besides, Tom wanted Butch alive to testify against Theresa.

  Tom stood and took the board from Victoria’s hands. She relinquished it, and he tossed it against the house. When he reached for her, she came to him willingly, almost eagerly. Her arms wound around his waist, and she rested her face against his chest.

  “It’s over,” he whispered.

  For a long moment he just held her, letting the sunshine warm them and the steady crash of the waves soothe their racing pulses. When he finally felt her breathing return to normal and her heartbeat grow steady, he brushed his fingers through her tangled hair.

  “Did you mean what you said when we were inside?” she asked.

  “What did I say?” Although he knew very well what he’d said.

  “That you—” she hesitated. “That you don’t want me to leave?”

  He tilted back so that he could look into her face, which in spite of the dirt and tear streaks was still beautiful. Her eyes held expectancy but also reservation, as if she didn’t quite know what to make of all he’d spoken in such earnestness.

  “I’m not a perfect man,” he started. “I’m flawed in many ways.”

  “I’m far from perfect too.”

  He shook his head. “But that hasn’t stopped me from falling in love with you.”

  “So I wasn’t dreaming that you’d said the words?” She released an almost blissful sigh and smiled.

  “The Lord knows how hard I’ve tried not to love you.”

  “And I know it too.” Her words were light and her eyes warm. “But apparently I’m irresistible?”

  “Yes.”

  “So I lured you in and snared you after all?” She cocked her head and gave him a playful look under her long lashes.

  “I’m all yours.” And he meant it. He wanted to spend the rest of his earthly days beside her, with her, loving, laughing, talking, teasing, and growing in faith.

  “If you’re all mine, does that mean I may do with you as I please?” Her voice dropped into a whisper that began to thaw his blood, which was still cold from the fear and anxiety of all they’d just experienced.

  He thought back to one of the first times he’d accompanied her and how she’d attempted to wield her charms over him to get her way. She’d never be able wrap him around her finger, and he would never cater to her every whim like other men always had. But she certainly had more power over him than he’d ever believed any one could gain.

  “What do you want to do with me?” He lowered his voice to the same flirtatious tone, unable to resist the play of a grin at his lips.

  A rosy pink colored her cheeks, and he knew that even though she teased him, she was still innocent. He was much more informed about the ways between men and women than she was. “Do you know what I’d like to do with you?” he asked softly.

  The pink rose into an even prettier flush. When she nibbled at her bottom lip, he realized that she thought he was going to kiss her or was at least contemplating it. Which, strangely, he wasn’t, not at that moment. He had something more important on his mind.

  He lowered himself to one knee before her, retrieved the ring from his pocket, and took her hand. “Victoria,” he started, “I’m a simple man. And I can’t give you much.”

  “I don’t care—”

  “But I can give you my promise to love you.” He held up the simple wedding band that she’d worn the past month. He hadn’t told her that the band had been the one Ike had been saving for his girl back home, Tabitha Lovell. After the war, when Tom had gone to give her the ring and a few of Ike’s other personal items, he’d learned that she’d died around the same time as Ike, from consumption. Tom had taken some comfort in knowing that Ike wasn’t alone in heaven, that at least he was happy with the woman he’d loved.

  Victoria stared at the ring he held poised above her finger.

  “No matter what the future brings, I’ll never be able to stop loving you.”

  Something briefly flickered in her eyes. He might have missed it if he hadn’t looked up into her face at that moment. It was fear. He’d recognize it anywhere. Yet just as quickly as the emotion appeared it vanished, replaced by excitement and thrill and wonder, which settled into every lovely curve and crevice of her face.

  “Oh, Tom,” she whispered. “I’ll never be able to stop loving you either.” The sincerity in her eyes told him she meant it.

  “Then marry me.” He slipped the band over her slender finger.

  She splayed her fingers, making it easier for him to slide the ring all the way down to where it belonged. When it was in place, her eyes glistened. “Yes. With all my heart.” She met his gaze with a radiance that made his chest swell to bursting.

  He brought her hand to his lips and tenderly kissed her ring finger and then turned over her hand and pressed a kiss into her palm. Her breath hitched in that sensual way she had about her that told him she enjoyed his touch, that it never failed to move her.

  One glance into her eyes, and he could see that not only did she enjoy his touch but that she wanted more. The temperature of his blood rose a degree. He readily obliged her with a feathery kiss on her wrist.

  She closed her eyes as if to prevent him from seeing her pleasure, but it was written in the tightening lines in her face. “Tom?”

  He kissed the skin directly above her wrist, this time lingering and caressing her wildly beating pulse. “Hmm?”

  “How am I to marry you?” she asked breathlessly. “When we’re already married?”

  “We’ll have a real wedding.”

  “At Race Point?”

  “Wherever you want.” He loved the texture of her silky skin against his lips.

  “I want your parents to be there. And we’ll invite mine to come too.”

  He nodded.

 
“But, Tom,” she started and then ducked her head, “we’re already legally married. What will be the point of the wedding?”

  Heat spread into his gut at the remembrance of the few passionate kisses they’d shared, of how difficult it had grown to let go of her, of how close he’d been to picking her up and taking her to bed. Could he really wait for a wedding? And really, what was the point? She was right. They were married. He could take her home tonight and they could finally be together.

  He shook his head, fighting away the temptation. “I want to do this right. With your father’s permission. With my parents’ full understanding. And with vows that we both mean this time.”

  Of course, it had been easy to agree to the judge’s questions and to sign a document that night on the steamboat when they’d been leaving Newport. But that exchange had been a necessity, a business arrangement, not a real marriage ceremony.

  He pushed himself up until he was standing before her. “I don’t want our marriage to be by default. I want us to choose it and make it public.”

  A wrinkle formed between her eyebrows. “How will your parents feel when they learn the truth?”

  “I suspect my mom knows more than she’s let on.” He couldn’t say for sure or even how. “My dad might be harder to console. But I’ll take care of him.”

  “I love them both. And I don’t want them to be upset at us.”

  “They won’t. They love you.” He had no doubt he and Victoria would have obstacles to overcome, but it likely wouldn’t be from his parents. It would be from hers. However, he didn’t want to bring that up now. He tugged her close again and touched his lips against the tiny crease in her forehead, hoping to ease her worries.

  She released another sigh that informed him she was happy again. He loved how quickly she could put aside her concerns and easily trust that everything would work out, even though he wasn’t sure how.

  Her fingers skimmed up his shirtsleeves, leaving a trail of heat on his arms. Suddenly, all he could think about was the fact that she’d survived and that she was his. His. Finally. He drew her body against his, which may have been a mistake because he was keenly aware of her nearness and how exquisite she was.

  One hand glided up her back to her neck and the other to her cheek. He positioned her head so that he could bend in and claim her lips with all the desperateness that had overcome him earlier when he’d thought she was dead. His touch was neither gentle nor chaste. It was hungry and full of all the need for her that he’d denied for too long.

  She rose on her toes to meet him, greeting his kiss with one as ardent as his. She didn’t hold back.

  Through the haze of his passion, he heard the clatter of carriage wheels coming from the direction of Provincetown. From the rapid speed, he guessed the newcomer was either Arch or Nathaniel. Or both. He knew he should stop kissing Victoria before anyone arrived. She’d be embarrassed to be caught kissing him so fervently. It was unladylike and even scandalous.

  But he didn’t want to stop. He wanted Nathaniel to see them together. He wanted Nathaniel to see Victoria kissing him in a way that she never had him.

  He tipped her head back so that he had access to her neck. He broke away from her lips and moved to her lovely exposed throat. He kissed her jaw line and dipped to the spot below it, feeling the thud of her pulse and the heat of her skin.

  From the corner of his eye, he could see that Arch was driving the wildly careening vehicle, which meant Nathaniel was riding as a passenger. As the carriage jerked to a stop, Tom captured Victoria’s lips again. After his teasing kisses upon her neck, she was ready for him and responded with an ardor that would surely show Nathaniel who her choice was.

  The horse’s snorting and the banging open of the carriage door didn’t seem to penetrate Victoria’s passion. She was lost in their kiss. Tom waited until he heard Nathaniel’s feet hit the gravel, and then he counted mentally to five before he released her.

  She didn’t immediately pull away and would have moved to kiss him again, except that he turned her slightly. “We have company,” he whispered and nodded toward the new arrivals.

  Her first glance was disinterested. But when she looked again and understanding lit her eyes, she broke away from him. He wrapped his arm around her waist, not intending to let her distance herself too much. She was his now. He hoped Nathaniel had gotten the message, but just in case he hadn’t, Tom would make sure he understood.

  Thankfully, Victoria didn’t protest his need to stake his claim on her. Instead, she sidled into the curve of his arm.

  Nathaniel’s eyes were wide and bounced back and forth between him and Victoria. Confusion floundered across his face. His mouth was open as if he wanted to speak but didn’t know what to say.

  Arch didn’t move from the high driver’s seat of the carriage. But his broad shoulders visibly relaxed. Tom was sure Arch had assessed the situation as rapidly as he would have. The lone horse, the broken door, and Butch unconscious and tied up on the ground. Seeing that Victoria was standing and unharmed, Arch was content. In fact, Tom caught a glimpse of humor in Arch’s eyes, as though he suspected what Tom was doing and why.

  Nathaniel’s eyes, however, had no humor in them, only hurt and surprise. “Victoria? I don’t understand.”

  Tom felt the slight tremble in her arm as she wound it behind his back. “I love Tom.”

  “But you love me,” Nathaniel stammered. “We’re getting married.”

  Victoria shook her head slowly, almost sadly. “I’m sorry.”

  Nathaniel searched her face, and his shoulders sagged as though he realized he was defeated. Perhaps he’d suspected it all along but was finally admitting it.

  A shard of guilt pricked Tom. He owed Nathaniel an apology for sending the telegram and allowing him to believe Victoria wanted to resume the wedding plans. Even though the deception had revealed Theresa as the culprit, Tom probably could have figured out a way to gain Nathaniel’s participation in the process without setting him up for this kind of pain.

  At the very least, Tom hoped Nathaniel would recover from his heartbreak quickly, and hopefully one day find another woman he could love as much as Victoria. He was a good man, but he had to realize by now that Victoria wasn’t the right woman for him. Tom guessed that if she’d gone through with the plans to marry Nathaniel, she would have run away from the ceremony, like she had every other time she’d attempted marriage. In fact, if Tom hadn’t intervened on her wedding day back in June, Victoria wouldn’t have made it to the carriage.

  She hadn’t ever had the right man. And now she did. She had him. And this time, at their wedding, she’d have no reason to run.

  Chapter 22

  Victoria stood on the Provincetown dock and tried not to keep glancing with too much longing at the town behind her. The August morning was overcast and a brisk wind blew off the ocean. But even with the threat of rain and the gloomy gray of the low clouds, the view of the town with its neat rows of plain white houses, small shops, and austere hotel somehow seemed homey and welcoming. Even the salty fish odor emanating from the rows of drying cod didn’t nauseate her the same way it had the first day she’d arrived.

  She realized that her perception had changed a great deal during the past weeks. She’d thought this seaport town on the tip of Cape Cod was dingy, run-down, and with little to offer a woman like her.

  How mistaken she’d been. Now she saw it as a place where she could live simply without focusing so much on herself and what she could get out of life. Away from the busyness and the glamor of society, she could take a look at herself and try to discover who she really was.

  “You’re absolutely sure I can’t persuade you to come back to Newport?” Nathaniel asked again, standing in front of her near the gangplank. He was attired in an elegant green and brown promenade suit and a matching hat that highlighted his green eyes. His fly-away hair was shorter than usual and his mustache was neatly trimmed.

  “As much as I truly adore you, Nathaniel,”
she said as she adjusted her parasol. “I’m simply not the woman you need.”

  “I think you are,” he said in that same anguished tone he’d used before when trying to convince her to go through with the wedding.

  She shook her head, once again feeling the weight of guilt for not having seen the incompatibility in their relationship much sooner. Even if she’d never met and fallen in love with Tom, she should have had enough sense to realize that she’d cared about Nathaniel for selfish reasons—for how he made her feel, what he gave her, the life he could provide, and how his status reflected so positively on her.

  That wasn’t to say that she hadn’t cared about him, because she had. She’d enjoyed spending time with him. They’d had fun together. He’d been tender and sweet and considerate and giving. If she’d stayed with him, she might have had an easy life.

  With Tom, she was sure to have more challenges. But she felt complete with him. He balanced her weaknesses. She didn’t have to pretend to be anyone but herself. He saw the good and the bad in her and accepted her regardless.

  “Oh, Nathaniel,” she said, “you’ve been the perfect gentleman and lavished me with your gifts and love. But I haven’t appreciated all of your attention the way a woman ought to.”

  “It doesn’t matter—”

  “I know God has someone better for you. Someone who will need all you have to offer and will love you deeply in return.” She’d already returned his engagement ring, for the second time. And she planned to return all of the other jewels he’d given her during their courtship. She didn’t need them and prayed he’d find someone else to give them to soon.

  She motioned to Arch, who was standing guard at the end of the dock. He had his arms crossed over his giant frame and scowled at any of the fishermen at the drying racks who stopped their work to stare at Victoria.

  Even though her captors were in jail, Arch and Tom had both insisted that she have a bodyguard at all times. At least until they made sure Theresa and her family were brought to justice. Even now, Theresa was locked in a berth on the steamboat. Tom and Arch had already questioned her and learned that Theresa’s father had conspired with his daughter to prevent Victoria from marrying Nathaniel so that Theresa could have the chance. She admitted to having been behind Arch’s stabbing, that she’d purposefully dropped her glove and gone back to retrieve it so that Victoria would be by herself and more susceptible to an attack. It was the same tactic she used by leaving her grandmother’s earring behind in the hotel.