by Jo Goodman
"Those were his exact words when he saw it, but he didn't explain. After what I had been through, I suppose he didn't think he'd better."
"You're not entirely right about it," Walker said. "The engine is the beginning of a working model. It's just that what you showed your father is exactly what Parnell showed him when Jay Mac agreed to finance it. Your drawing proved to Jay Mac that Parnell's first rendering of the invention wasn't a fake, but it also proved there'd been no progress."
"Because your uncle's dead," she said quietly.
"He wouldn't have stopped working otherwise. He couldn't have."
Skye turned and laid her head against Walker's shoulder. She felt his arm come across her back. He rubbed her arm. "Did you know right away?" she asked.
"Within twenty-four hours of getting inside. There was no place they could have hidden him. I was everywhere in the house."
"But you never found the body."
"No, I've never found it. I've been over the grounds a score of times, but I can't find anything like a grave. Now that winter's almost over I can look again. The ground may settle over it. That may be the only clue I'll have."
Skye was struck by the memory of Walker's trip to the swan pond with Annie's little boy. "You've considered the pond?" she asked.
He nodded. "And the river. Nothing has ever surfaced."
What a grim task it was for him, she thought. Her skin prickled with cold that came up from her bones. She felt his arm tighten on her shoulder as if he knew what had caused her shiver. "Why have you done it all alone?" she asked. "Can't you make a case to the authorities? Curran is impersonating your uncle. Apparently he has for some time, certainly as long as they've all been in Baileyboro. Surely he should be held accountable for some explanation."
"I considered it," Walker said. "But without the body, I can't prove murder. Depending on the manner of murder, I may not even be able to prove it then. There's also the possibility that Uncle Jon died of natural causes. Morgan Curran saw an opportunity to use my uncle's identity and took it."
"I'm not certain I understand what Parnell and his sister have to gain by assuming the identity. The engine isn't working and Parnell can't make it work. Did you ever notice that when he comes up from the workroom his hands are clean? Oh, he has a spot of grease on him here and there, and his sleeves are rolled up. He even looks a bit distracted and harried, but under his nails there's not any grime."
He had noticed, but he didn't know she had. "You're amazing," he said softly.
She glanced up at him. Her smile was self-depreciating. "Not so amazing. I saw it, but the significance didn't register until you told me about my own hands." Skye rested her head against him again. "So, if you don't think you can find your uncle's body, then what is it you hope to prove against the Currans?"
"Fraud."
"Fraud? But who—"
"Your father, for one. Parnell entered into a contract with your father to help finance his work on the engine. He also entered into a contract with Rockefeller, Holiday, and Westinghouse. Those are the only ones I know about for certain. I suspect that the list is much longer than that. He received thousands of dollars from each man in return for the promise of the exclusive patent rights."
"My God," she breathed softly. "Does Jay Mac know?"
"He does now."
Skye shook her head from side to side, feeling for her father. "Poor Jay Mac."
"He wasn't pleased. He thought he owned Parnell."
Skye became very still. "What?" she asked in a small voice. "What did you say?"
"Your father wasn't pleased."
She sat up and away from Walker. "No, the other."
"I said he thought he owned Parnell."
"Did Jay Mac say that?"
Walker tried to remember. It was obviously important to Skye. "It was the same morning Jay Mac came to the St. Mark to find you," he said slowly. "I went to see him later and he asked me about my work. I told him everything. That's when the matter of the contract came up. He even showed his copy to me." He paused, thinking back carefully on the conversation. "I think those were his exact words."
Skye didn't have any trouble believing her father would have thought it or said it. It was so like him to think that the contract for patent rights as ownership of Parnell himself. "My father probably wrote as much to Parnell when he wasn't getting satisfactory answers about the engine. It must have frightened Parnell." Skye made a small grimace. "Even my father's correspondence can be threatening."
"I'm not certain I understand the significance," Walker said.
Skye was filled with restless, anxious energy. She stood and moved away from the sofa. Her hands smoothed the midriff of her hunter green gown before her arms crossed protectively in front of her. "I told you about the intruder I surprised in my father's study."
Walker nodded. "I remember."
"He was looking for something in Jay Mac's desk and when he didn't find it he asked about a safe. Before he left, he said, 'Tell Jay Mac he doesn't own me.' But when I gave my father the message, it didn't mean anything to him."
"You're sure?"
"Jay Mac wouldn't have lied about that. Not when I'd been placed in danger. If he'd associated the words with Parnell, he wouldn't have sent me to Baileyboro. That's what makes me think he probably wrote them to Parnell. Jay Mac had no face-to-face contacts with him after the contract was signed." Skye stepped closer to the fire. She couldn't get warm enough. "It was Parnell who was in my home that night. He's the one who..." Her voice became hardly more than a whisper. "...the one who touched me."
Walker got to his feet, but he kept his distance from Skye. He thought that if he touched her now she would come out of her skin.
"He was in the city that night," she said. "You told me that yourself. He wasn't in the hotel room when you got there."
"Parnell went to a brothel."
She shook her head. "You didn't find him at one, did you? He was probably at our home already, on the property, just waiting for everyone to turn in for the night. He was looking for the contract. He wanted to end it with my father. Jay Mac must have been giving him too much trouble, asking for too much information about the engine. He probably thought it was too risky to stay in business with my father."
Walker thought back to the night in question. He recalled sitting in the hotel room, very much like the one they were in now, waiting for Parnell after the search of New York's seamier sections had turned up nothing. Walker looked toward the door, imagining Parnell coming in as he had done that night.
Skye watched the gradual change in Walker's features. The crease between his brows disappeared. The vague, distant expression of memory retrieval faded. And as knowledge came to him, so did the taut lines of tension and splintered sharpness of his gold-flecked eyes. "What is it?" she asked. "What have you remembered?"
Walker continued to stare at the door as if his vision of Parnell could become real. "The side of his face was reddened. I suppose I thought that it had something to do with an encounter with a whore. Parnell said he'd been with two." Now he turned to Skye. "You left that mark on him."
"I suppose I could have. I slapped him hard."
He swore softly under his breath, berating himself for not realizing it before now. The clues had been there and he hadn't been able to piece them together. "I should have known when you first told me about the intruder. I should have made the connection. Even when I knew it was Parnell going into your room, I didn't—"
"You knew?" she asked, stricken. "You knew Parnell was coming into my room and you—"
Now Walker approached her. When he saw her take a step back, he stopped. He could have reached for her, touched her, but his hands remained at his side. "Skye, I didn't know until the night that I stayed with you in your room. I was hit on the head, remember? No ghost did that. And I didn't suspect you. Who else could it have been?"
"But you didn't say anything."
"I made sure you spent the remaining time with me, i
n my room. I told you I was protecting you. What could I have said, what else could I have done? If you recall, you weren't honest with me. I didn't know why you were at the mansion or how far I could trust you."
Skye's chin came up. Her eyes accused him. "It didn't stop you from sleeping with me," she said.
Walker stared at her hard. "It didn't stop me from loving you, either."
She became perfectly still. "What?"
The rough, gravel edge of his voice changed. It was husky with feeling now. "It didn't stop me from loving you."
"You've never said..."
"Neither have you."
Skye's hands dropped to her sides. She was careful not to let her fingers twist the folds of her gown. She wanted to command presence, to preserve calm. "I didn't think you would welcome that sort of declaration," she said quietly. "I was afraid you would think I was trying to hold you with it, bind you to me."
"I married you, Skye. Love is supposed to bind us." His eyes narrowed. He tried to see past her shuttered expression. "Are you certain you didn't want it to bind you? You're the one who doesn't want this marriage. You're the one who wants the freedom to take your leave as you please. You would have been my mistress, my lover. You didn't want to be my wife."
She couldn't deny it, not the way he had put it to her. But he didn't understand everything. "It doesn't mean I didn't love you," she said. "Or do you think I'd be anyone's whore?"
Walker sucked in his breath. The edge was back in his voice. "I've never treated you like a whore."
Skye had the grace to look away. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that." She raised her eyes to him again. "But you never mentioned marriage until you knew I was Jay Mac's daughter."
"It doesn't mean I didn't think about it," he said. "Or do you think I'd be anyone's whore?"
Skye's head retracted as if she'd been slapped. When he reached for her, she stepped back. "I suppose you think I deserved that," she said. "But I didn't. It wasn't an accusation, merely a point. I know you didn't accept money from my father, yet I don't see how the fact that I am Jay Mac's daughter couldn't have influenced your proposal."
Walker sighed. The hand he had held out to her was raised now, and he rubbed the back of his neck, shaking his head slowly. "It influenced the timing, nothing else. You could have been the Cavanaughs' daughter and it would have been the same." She wanted to believe him, he could tell, but a lifetime of suspecting the motives of others had made her doubt herself. "I don't need any money you bring to our marriage," he said. "Not only don't I need it, I don't want it. I earn an adequate wage. Not to your father's standards, but sufficient for our needs. Jay Mac asked me if I could care for you. I satisfied him on that account. How do I satisfy you?"
"Oh, Walker," Skye said softly. She stepped toward him, tentatively at first, then again, and then a final time that put her within the slender space of a moment from him. She raised eyes that glistened with unshed tears. "You satisfy me so well it frightens me."
"I didn't mean—"
She raised a finger to his mouth. "Shh. I know what you meant." Her hand dropped away and rested on his shoulder. She laid her forehead against his chest. "Be patient with me, Walker. I've never loved anyone before, not this way. I wasn't expecting it. I certainly wasn't expecting it to be returned." She felt his hands go around the small of her back. "I don't seem to know what to do with myself." Skye's breath caught on a sob that she couldn't quite contain. Her tears were making a wet track on his shirt. "Except make both of us miserable. I'm getting good at that."
Walker rested his chin against the crown of her hair. He held her close. "I thought you were only curious about me," he said quietly. "I was afraid to mistake your interest for love. I thought once you had your questions answered, you'd be bored and be done."
Skye found a handkerchief in his pocket and used it to dry her eyes. "You must think I'm shallow."
"I thought you were infatuated."
"If you're trying to extricate your foot from your mouth, you're not doing a very good job of it." She pushed the handkerchief back in his pocket. "I've been infatuated before, but never once with you."
Walker didn't know whether to be alarmed or pleased.
"I love you," she said, raising her face. The depth of her feeling was in the gravity of her voice, in the darkening centers of her somber eyes. "How do I satisfy you?"
"I'll show you." His head lowered. His mouth came across hers. The kiss was soft, searching. He felt the fullness of her response as she raised herself on tiptoe and leaned against him. Her arms circled his neck. Her breasts were pressed flush to his chest. Their lips parted, their tongues exchanged a touch, a taste. The fragrance of her hair was released when he took the combs from it. It spilled down her back. His fingers sifted through the silken, fiery threads. It was like a flame licking at his flesh.
Still holding her, Walker drew back slightly. Skye's mouth was damp and swollen from the kiss. Her face was flushed. The black centers of her eyes were dreamy and unfocused. "Tell me you don't regret this marriage," he said.
She was off balance enough that had he wanted to hear the sky was green, she would have complied. It was comforting to know that she wasn't compelled to lie. "I don't regret this marriage," she said huskily. She touched his lips briefly with hers. "No regret." She kissed him again. "None." Her arms fell away from his neck. She took him by the hand and led him into the bedroom.
The bed was already turned down. The lamp on the table beside it was lit. A few flowers from the vase had been removed and were lying on the plump pillows. Skye looked at Walker sideways. "Wishful thinking?" she asked.
He shook his head and answered solemnly. "Prayer."
She loved that he could make her laugh.
Skye was still smiling when he laid her back on the bed and covered her with his body. He nudged her nose with his, growled lowly, and swept away her amusement with a hard, hot kiss. Their naked bodies twisted under the sheets. His mouth traveled from her lips to her jaw. He made a damp line along her neck to the base of her throat. He went lower, taking the tip of her breast into his mouth. She arched as fire radiated from her nipple to her belly. Her legs parted around him. He came into her.
He didn't move immediately. She liked the stillness of him, the heaviness filling her, the denial that made his face taut and the anticipation sweeter. In the end it was Skye who lifted her hips, Skye who set the rhythm of their joining. It was her hands that gripped his shoulders and held him close.
She whispered in his ear, "I love you."
His climax was hard. Skye absorbed the shudder that released the tension and pleasure, and her body vibrated in turn. Her heart thrummed. Sensation washed through her limbs in undulating waves. There was a rush of sound in her ears and the delicious taste of his mouth on hers. Champagne kisses were intoxicating.
Walker rolled away and lay back on his own pillow. He lifted his head, pulled a crushed flower from under it, and handed it to Skye. She smoothed the damaged petals and tucked it behind her ear. He wished he had thought of it. The effect was exotic, beautiful.
"You're staring at me," she whispered.
He thought he could do it for the rest of his life and never get his fill. "I know," he said. He lifted himself on one elbow when she lay back. "I like looking at you." Walker dropped a kiss on her mouth. The flower's fragrance mingled with the scent of lavender in her hair. "You're going to have to get used to it."
"It will take a long time."
That suited him. "I'll give you a long time," he said. "Years. Scores of them."
She turned into him and Walker accommodated her body, slipping his arm under her head. "How soon do you have to go back to Baileyboro?" she asked. She felt him tense. "Did you think I didn't know you'd have to return? That's what you were trying to tell me this evening. It's what you were leading up to." His fingers were trailing across the outer curve of her breast. "Well," she said slowly, slyly, acknowledging that his seduction had been successful. "Part of what you w
ere leading up to."
He grimaced. "I'm that transparent?"
"Like glass." One of her hands slipped under the sheet and she patted his chest consolingly, just above his heart. "But I think it's because I love you."
He had to trust that she meant it. Taking her hand, he squeezed gently. "I should go back tomorrow."
She nodded. "In the morning?"
"I don't know the train schedule. If there's something in the afternoon, I can wait until then. Parnell's expecting you to return with me," he said. "I didn't tell you that. I was supposed to follow you, find out who you were working for, then bring you back to Baileyboro. Parnell suspects the threats on his life are because of the multiple contracts."
Skye sat up suddenly, drawing the sheet to her breasts. The flower dropped on her lap, and she picked it up and twirled it between her fingers, using it as an extension of her hand to make a point. "Parnell knows I work for Jay Mac. He was in the house, remember? He thought I was a servant when he gave me the message for my father. I never saw him but he saw me. When I arrived at the Granville mansion, when I walked into the interview, he had to have been suspicious."
"When you walked into that room, he wanted you. That's why he hired you. It's why he wants you back." Walker sat up and leaned against the headboard. "I'm sure he remembered you from that night because he wouldn't accept that I didn't believe you were a housekeeper. I didn't understand that he had evidence that pointed to the contrary." Walker watched Skye's twirling slow. The flower petals ceased to be a blur of color. "He suspects now that you were sent there by Jay Mac, that it has to do with the engine, but a lot of that's my doing. From the beginning I tried to convince him that you were a threat."
"But why?"
"To get you away from there. I saw how he looked at you. He never bothered any of the other servants. Jenny Adams is too old. The twins were always together. No one except Corina lived at the house. I'd heard rumors about the housekeeper before you, though. She left without notice and I never could find out where she went."
