by Ana Morgan
“So?”
“Mary is my baby sister. She’s too young to understand real love.”
“She’s been studying at that music conservatory in Chicago for almost a year. She’s old enough to know her own heart.”
“She’s vulnerable. When she was little, boys made fun of the birthmark on her face. I know. I used to beat them up.” He jumped up and paced in front of her. “Compliments could turn her head.”
“She does play beautifully, but I doubt that compliments would sweep her off her feet.”
“You don’t understand. A man who says flattering things could really be trying to get at her bank account. It’s something you learn to watch for when you come from money.”
“Oh, I get it,” she said. “You’re rich, so you shouldn’t trust anyone.”
“Can’t,” he fired back. “I can’t trust anyone.”
His words smacked like an unexpected branch in a dense woods.
Stormy stiffened every inch of her spine. “You listen and you listen good, Blade Masters. I didn’t ask to stay in fancy hotels or buy expensive clothes. Selling the steers should pay off the ranch note. I don’t want or need your money. I work for what I want, and I’m happy with what I have.” She drew a quick breath. “I followed you because I love you. I want you to come home with me.”
He stopped pacing and loomed over her, his mouth set in an unsmiling line.
Her heart thumped with alarm. If he was planning to break off their engagement, she wanted to know now. She’d hightail it back to the ranch and cry alone while she checked fences.
His hands locked onto her elbows. Slid up her arms. Traversed her shoulders and caressed her neck.
Drawn like a lodestone to a pole, she rose on her toes. She tilted up her face, only to find that his lips hovered just beyond her reach.
Suddenly, he scooped her up in his arms, carried her to the king-sized bed, and laid her down on her back with her legs spread wide, calves and feet dangling down. She struggled to ignore the heat pooling between her legs and clawed at the fine coverlet until she had fabric enough to hold herself steady.
He leaned over, setting his palms next to her shoulders. His eyes searched hers, but for what? Affirmation? Understanding? If only she could read his mind.
“Stormy, I’ve loved you from the moment we met. I know that’s hard for you to believe, but it’s true. That’s why I gave you this.” Reaching down, he picked up her hand and touched the ring on her left index finger.
His ring.
“I bought it hoping to find love.”
Suddenly, she understood his dark, painful secret, the one Vi Miller had hinted about on the ranch house porch: a past lover had hurt him so deeply, he’d been gelded.
But, that lover was not his true love.
She was.
She and Blade were meant for each other. The proof was plain as the nose on her face. She’d healed him just by being herself.
She wanted to make love right away. Seal this moment forever in their flesh and bones. Afterwards, they’d lie in each other’s arms and make plans to invite his parents to the wedding. This would bridge the rift that separated them, and she’d do the same with her fathers. The life she’d wished for, but never believed she’d have, was coming true.
A tear spilled and trickled toward her temple.
Blade’s expression turned cold. “I’ll never force you to make love to me.” He stood and walked toward the door. “I think I’ll talk to Mary tonight.”
Stormy stared with horror at his rigid back, and then at the closed door. Once again, he’d misunderstood. She didn’t know whether to howl with frustration or bawl like a calf whose mother had died giving birth.
Someone knocked softly on the door.
She slid off the bed and ran to open it.
Olivia Masters held out a set of plush white towels. Smiling warmly, she swept into the room. “I hope you like this room, dear. Blade said you’re an early riser, and it gets the first morning light. Did Blade show you the bathroom?”
The emotional lump in Stormy’s throat prevented her from speaking. She shook her head.
Olivia opened several doors. “This is your clothes closet. This is the smoking closet. Do you smoke?”
“No,” Stormy croaked.
“Sam likes Cuban cigars, and so does Jared, but it’s a bad habit. I hope Blade never picks it up.” Olivia stepped into the bathroom, turned on the lights, and set the towels beside a fancy jar of gardenia bath salts on the ledge of a deep, claw-footed tub. “The water turns hot quickly, so test it before you step in.”
Olivia moved to the bed. She turned down the sheets and plumped the pillows. Then, she walked about the room, fussing with drapes and checking drawers.
Never having seen a mother in action, Stormy watched with interest.
Olivia unlatched the valises and pulled out the blue evening gown. “This is lovely,” she exclaimed. “Stormy, fetch a hanger from the closet, please. If hanging overnight doesn’t ease the creases, I’ll have the laundress steam it in the morning.”
Together, they unpacked the rest of her belongings and stacked the valises in the very back of the closet.
Olivia shut the closet door. “We’ll do more shopping,” she said brightly. “Blade said you lost everything when the steamer exploded. I’m so thankful you weren’t hurt.”
“I don’t need anything more,” Stormy said. “I’ll be leaving soon.”
A sorrowful look darkened Blade’s mother’s face. “I know. What I don’t know is why. Blade refuses to explain.” She stood, silent and withdrawn, for a few seconds, and then gently brushed Stormy’s shoulders. “I will enjoy you while I can.”
Olivia glided toward the door. “Sleep well, dear. Jared and Candace are coming for breakfast.”
Chapter 24
Before seven the next morning, Blade nodded at the pint-sized maid who dusted the banister of the grand staircase. He stepped into his parents’ dining room and was startled to see his brother sitting alone at the long, formally-set table. Out of sixteen comfortable chairs, Jared occupied the one that had traditionally been his, the elder son.
Squelching a stab of sibling indignation, he headed to the sideboard and poured coffee from the familiar silver server into an unfamiliar china cup. “Hello, Jared,” he said neutrally.
His brother quickly capped a silver liquor flask and tucked it inside his gray business suit jacket. The earpieces of his horn-rimmed glasses pressed into his temples. His eyes showed no spark of youthful combativeness. “Corinda said you were back. How are you?”
“Good. How’s the family?”
“Patrick’s growing like a weed. Dreams of pitching for the Maroons. Natalie takes violin and dance lessons.”
“And, Candy?”
His brother gave his coffee cup saucer a slight shove. Creamed liquid sloshed over the rim. “Oh, she’s the same. Hates getting up in the morning.”
A deep voice sounded in the doorway. “Spends money like we have a printing press in the basement.” His father’s thick silver hair gleamed in the light of a sconce.
His mother pushed past like a bull dog on patrol. “No talk like that this morning,” she ordered. “Blade brought a guest.”
“Two guests,” Blade said. “Mouse left to run an errand. Mary’s checking on Stormy now. So, how’s the banking business?”
“I’m glad you asked.” His father slid a file stamped Prospectus toward him. “Telephone service connecting businesses and houses in St. Louis. All the cities back east are doing it.”
“Sounds like a good idea.” Blade sat next to Jared and scanned the papers. “I’d like to be able to talk to someone and hear their response.”
“Here’s another idea,” his father said. “Electrification sites.
We’re thinking of investing in a generating plant.”
Jared waved at the battery of gas-fired sconces on the walls. “The return could be phenomenal. Pull a cord. Light up a room.”
“I’d be careful in here.” Stormy entered the room. “Wallpaper can dry out and catch fire if it’s too close to hot current wires.”
Blade’s chest swelled with pride. His bold, brash fiancée looked stunning in the calf-length, orange-yellow morning dress he’d bought for her in Kansas City. She’d also just demonstrated how well read she was.
Jared whistled under his breath. “Is she—”
“She’s mine,” Blade whispered back. He stood and pulled out the chair to his right.
When Stormy was seated, he reached for her hand under the table and gave it a squeeze. “Stormy, this is my brother, Jared.”
The door to the kitchen swung open. A maid carried in the first course of breakfast, halved green nutmeg melon.
As he chewed bites of the spicy sweet fruit, Blade silently reviewed his plan for the day. He’d negotiate his buy-out in his father’s office at the bank. Mouse was hunting for Edward Peabody. The only loose end was keeping Stormy safe.
He looked up. “What are you lovely ladies going to do today?”
“We have invitations.” His mother lifted embossed cards from a small silver tray. “Lady Epriam Dooms. Mr. Charles Vanderfield. Mrs. Audrey Fricke. Emily Llewellyn. I expect more will arrive soon. Everyone wants to meet Miss Ophelia.”
Stormy blanched.
He knew traipsing from parlor to parlor, meeting snooty strangers, was the last thing she wanted to do, but she’d be chaperoned the entire way, and therefore safe. He’d make it up to her. “Mary will go along?”
“Of course,” his mother said. “So will I.”
“Then, it sounds delightful.” He folded his napkin and scooted back his chair. “I think I’ll visit my office at the bank.”
“You’re not coming with us?” Stormy asked plaintively.
“I told Mr. Ewins I’d inspect his annual report.” He bent and kissed her cheek. “Play along,” he whispered in her ear, “until we find Edward Peabody.”
Eyes wide, she nodded, though she still appeared most unhappy. “I wish I could go with you.”
“So do I.”
~ ~ ~
Blade took the carpeted steps inside the Masters Investment and Trust three at a time and opened the door to his office. Mountains of reports smothered his desk, the windowsill, and the sofa that had always been too uncomfortable for napping.
He was almost tempted to give the sofa another try. He hadn’t gotten much shut-eye last night. After hearing all about Mary’s beau, he’d wandered through his parents’ house, worrying until the big grandfather clock chimed six.
Jared rapped softly on the open office door and entered. “Fess up. Where did you find her?”
“Stormy? On a ranch near a town you never heard of.”
“You always did like redheads.”
“And, you liked blondes.”
“How well do you know her?”
Blade stared, trying to discern what his brother really meant. “If you’re hinting that she’s out for money, I can assure you, she’s not. She’s an only child, set to inherit a thousand acres of prime farmland. Stormy loves—” He stopped short. “Are you saying she will regret marrying me?”
Jared’s face lost all its color. He shut the door and shifted stacks of papers on the couch until he cleared enough space to sit. Dust soared into the air and sparkled in the sunlight that flowed through the picture window overlooking St. Louis’ busy harbor. He folded and refolded his hands. “Candace regrets marrying me.”
Blade muffled his gasp. Jared never liked to admit anything.
“We haven’t slept together since Natalie was born.” Jared buried his face in his hands. “She says I’m not man enough anymore.”
Blade’s long-held anger at his brother lost its razor’s edge. A few months ago, he would have feasted on this confession. Now, it only made him feel guilty. He’d introduced Candy to his family.
He crossed the room and set an apologetic hand on his brother’s shoulder. Candy didn’t love Jared any more than she’d loved him. She was a gold digger, out only for herself.
But, why bar his brother from her bed? What did she stand to gain by destroying Jared’s confidence? She had to have her eye on some bigger prize.
His mind whirled with possibilities. Candy was shrewd and ruthless.
As soon as Jared’s shoulders stopped shaking, Blade marched into his father’s office.
Sam Masters sat behind his imposing desk, set with the big Tiffany lamp, teak humidor, and incongruous dime store calendar. Eyes narrowing, his father halted his dictation mid-sentence and calmly dismissed Mrs. Corso, his gray-haired secretary.
Blade locked the door behind her and spun around. “What kind of mother is Candy?”
His father thumbed through some papers. “Absentee. She spends most of her time gallivanting. Jared focuses on Patrick and Natalie when he’s not working. His only vice is cocktails before dinner.”
“I caught him lacing his coffee this morning.”
“I’ve never noticed that.”
Blade exploded like an overheated boiler. “You never gave a damn about me. I learned to live with it, but Jared deserves a whole lot more than a nod and a paycheck. He’s hurting right now, and Candy is the reason.”
“Now wait just a—” His father pushed heatedly out of his high-back leather chair. “How would you know? You haven’t been home in years.”
“He just told me.”
Sam’s head jerked as if he’d been punched in the jaw. He deflated and dropped back onto his chair. “You’ve always seen through me, haven’t you, Blade? From the time you were young, I could see it in your eyes. You weren’t in awe of me, and you weren’t afraid. I could tell you didn’t want to be anything like me, but in so many ways you are.”
“Is that why you were so hard on me?”
“I thought I could force—” Sam reached for the russet silk handkerchief in his breast pocket. “I thought you’d come to me for approval. Instead you ran off and became your own man. When you returned from the river, I was afraid anything I said or did would chase you away again.”
The silence grew awkward as his father blotted his eyes. Sam had never spoken like this before, open and honest. Father to son. Man to man.
Blade blew out a slow breath and silently accepted his father’s confession. “We have a bigger problem. Patrick and Natalie might not be safe.”
“Safe? Why wouldn’t they be safe?”
“The story’s a bit complicated.” Blade described the day he rode into Prosperity and witnessed Stormy’s confrontation with Vance. He explained why Zed Hawkins had mortgaged the ranch. How Vance had tried to call their note in early. His arrangement with Purdy to watch out for telegrams mentioning his family’s name. Peabody’s detailed report about the children and their activities.
Sam wadded his handkerchief into a ball. His face turned indignant red. “Who the hell does this Vance think he is? Doesn’t he know who we are?"
“He does now.”
“How did he learn you were from St. Louis?”
“I haven’t figured that out yet.”
His father brooded for a minute. “Vance wants more than Stormy. He wants her land, and you’re standing in his way.”
“That’s why I’m concerned about the children. I wouldn’t put it past Vance to hire Peabody to snatch them. Demand that I break off my engagement to Stormy in exchange for the children’s safe return.”
“Would Vance go that far?”
“I refuse to take that chance. How well does Jared screen his servants?”
“Backgroun
d check with the police, personal interviews with references. I’ll double their salaries as a precaution against bribes, and bring in a plainclothes servant who’ll report directly to me. Should we tell Jared?”
“Not yet. I’ll come up with a plan that lets him reclaim his pride.” Blade put his feet up on his father’s desk. Sam had always hated when he did that.
Impassively, Sam opened his humidor, pulled out a cigar, and held it out.
Blade shook his head.
Sam clipped one end of the cigar and reached into his jacket pocket. Withdrawing a match, he leaned forward and struck it across the bottom of Blade’s boot. The tip of the match burst into flame. “Is Stormy pregnant?”
Blade didn’t flinch. He’d wondered the same thing. “It’s possible. I’d be happy if she was.”
After several puffs, his father said, “This Peabody fellow shouldn’t be too hard to find. Must hang a shingle somewhere.”
“My man, Mouse, is out looking for him right now.”
“Would this Mouse be able to take him?”
“Don’t let his name fool you. He’s a roustabout. Tall and massive, but all muscle. I trust him. Next item. Are you aware that Mary’s met the man she wants to marry?”
Sam doubled over in a fit of coughing.
“Dad?” Jared’s concerned voice punctuated his rattle of the doorknob. “Are you all right? Open up. The door’s locked.”
Blade hurried to turn the key and let his brother in. “The old man’s fine. He just learned Mary has a beau.”
“Who is he?” Sam sputtered. “Do we know his family?”
“Someone she met at Conservatory,” Blade said. “He sounds like a proper young man.”
“Why haven’t we met him?” Sam rubbed the back of his neck. “Olivia will have a fit.”
“Which might be why Mary hasn’t told you,” Jared said.
“Has she . . .” Sam looked sick to his stomach.
“No,” Blade assured him. “I grilled her for over an hour last night. He’s studying to be a lawyer. It might be a good idea to let her attend the summer session at Conservatory.” He shot his father a deliberate look. Be safely away while we deal with Peabody and Vance.
