Jed (The Rock Creek Six Book 4)

by Linda Winstead Jones

  “That’s one of the strengths,” she whispered.

  “Depends on which side you’re on,” he said with a grin.

  His fingers brushed over her mouth. “I think you need a new mirror, Hannah. Have you ever taken a good look at these lips? Perfectly shaped, soft and full, and the color of a ripe plum.”

  Her heart skipped a beat.

  “And your eyes,” he said, staring into them. “Cold as ice when you’re mad, a blue-gray sky when you’re happy, and always... always dancing.”

  “Some men will say anything to get what they want,” she said softly.

  “What do you think I want, Hannah?”

  She knew what he wanted, and for once it wasn’t her fortune that drew a man to her.

  “When I find the person who killed Reverend Clancy, I’ll have to go home,” she whispered. “I have...”

  “Responsibilities,” he finished for her. “I know.”

  “So it would be foolish for us to get...”

  “Attached,” he supplied when she faltered.

  “Attached,” she repeated, “when we know I won’t be here much longer. Besides,” she added, trying to convince herself as well as Jed, “you and I have nothing in common.”

  “I wouldn’t say that,” he said softly, coming closer to lay his mouth over hers, briefly and so sweetly he took her breath away.

  “Well, there is that,” she agreed, giving in too easily.

  She took another sip of her whiskey. “Tomorrow morning I’m going to talk to Rose. Maybe once I have the real story of what happened that morning, it will be easier to find the killer.”

  “And if Rose tells you she really did do it?”

  Hannah shook her head and took another drink. A deep one. “I can’t believe it’s true.”

  “But if it is?” Jed pressed.

  “Then I suppose I can go home.” Oh, she didn’t want to go home. She wanted to stay here almost as much as she wanted Rose not to be responsible for Reverend Clancy’s death. She finished off her whiskey and set the empty glass aside.

  “In that case,” Jed said, drawing her to him, “we don’t have a hell of a lot of time to waste.”

  He kissed her again, deeper this time, and she closed her eyes and relished the way he came to her. When he pulled her head against his shoulder, a strange heat washed over and through her. She was boneless; her eyes would not stay open.

  “You’re tired,” Jed whispered.

  “Uh-hmm,” she moaned against his shoulder. “Maybe that whiskey wasn’t such a good idea, under the circumstances.”

  His arms encircled her and pulled her closer, and she melted against him. Big and hard but still soft and gentle, he made the perfect resting place.

  Hannah didn’t drift toward sleep, she fell. Hard and fast.

  * * *

  Well, this was a fine mess he’d gotten himself into. Jed sat there, his back against the wall and Hannah once again sleeping in his arms. Lily’s muffled voice, singing a sappy love song, drifted through the closed storeroom door.

  Come tomorrow morning, Rose would tell Hannah that she was the culprit responsible for Reverend Clancy’s murder. Hannah would accept that as fact, like it or not, and pack her bags. Hell-fire, he wasn’t ready for her to leave.

  He could always go with her, for a while. With just a little persuasion he could be convinced to escort Hannah to Alabama, maybe taking a roundabout route. He wouldn’t stay, though. Jed knew himself well enough to know that was impossible.

  She was going to have a hard time accepting the fact that her sister had taken a man’s life. It didn’t make sense to Hannah, with what she knew of Rose. What she was willing to accept.

  Jed had been on the side of the law most of his life. Normally, he would insist that justice be done, but he knew Rose and he knew Clancy. The preacher deserved what he got, and Rose wouldn’t have done it unless she’d been panicked. Man, and woman, would do a lot in the name of survival.

  It would be interesting, though, to hear Rose’s version of that morning, now that the truth had come out.

  He had never thought much of Baxter Sutton, that coward, but his estimation of the shopkeeper had risen a little this morning. The man had been willing to hang to save his wife. He was still willing to let everyone in town think him a murderer, so Rose would not have to live with that label.

  Hannah said her brother-in-law didn’t have the guts to commit murder. Taking the blame and facing a noose took more guts than the split second it took to drive a knife into a man’s heart.

  Lily’s song ended, the crowd clapped enthusiastically, and unaccompanied piano music filled the air. Hannah slept on. Jed brushed her hair back. How could she say she was not beautiful? She had the kind of face a man might never forget. She didn’t have Eden’s girlish beauty, or Lily’s exotic flair, but she had her own beauty. Her face was valiant and fascinating, and he damn well knew he’d never forget it.

  There was a soft knock at the door, and then it swung open slowly. Rico stuck his head in.

  “We are about to lock up. Are you spending the night here?” He smiled wickedly.

  “No.” Jed shifted forward, Hannah firmly in his grasp. With one arm behind her back and the other scooping under her knees, he stood. She didn’t move, but to turn her head toward his chest and sigh deeply.

  “She’s plumb worn out,” he said softly.

  “I can imagine,” Rico said with a nod of his head as he backed up and opened the door wide.

  Hannah weighed next to nothing, as he well remembered. At least this time she wasn’t hitting him with her cane or pinching like the hellcat she was beneath her buttoned-up illusion of propriety.

  Her cane was still in that cave, stuck in the rock floor with her burned up drawers hanging from the gold head. Since he’d met her she’d carried that cane like a weapon, as diligent and skilled as he was with his rifle. He’d have to get her another walking stick to replace the one they’d left behind, maybe for Christmas.

  If she was still here a week from now.

  He echoed Rico’s softly spoken good night and headed across the street with Hannah in his arms.

  The lobby was deserted, and he climbed the stairs without being forced to answer any annoying questions from his sister or his brother-in-law. In the second floor hallway, he bent down to open the door to her room, turning it with the hand that barely extended from beneath Hannah’s knees. He pushed open the door with his booted foot.

  By the dim light that broke through from the hallway lamp, he very carefully laid Hannah in the center of her bed. She moaned once, perhaps missing the feel of his body against hers, then rolled onto her side and instantly resumed her deep sleep.

  He lit the lamp on her dresser and closed the door. Hell, he couldn’t just leave her here like this!

  Sitting on the edge of the bed he removed her boots, unlacing them carefully and slipping them off with great care. She seemed not to know that he was even there, so such care was probably not necessary. Still...

  She would choke in her sleep with that blouse buttoned to her chin, he decided, so he unfastened the buttons from her chin to the swell of her breasts. They were right fine breasts, he decided, peeking only briefly as the fabric fell back and away.

  Then and there he vowed that the next time he bedded Hannah it would be in a bed, with lamps all around and not a stitch of clothing to spoil the view.

  The waist of her skirt had to be pinching her. It would be uncomfortable to wake up at night with that waistband twisted and biting into her, wouldn’t it? He unfastened the buttons there and slipped the skirt down and off, leaving her in a single petticoat.

  And there was that damn garter. He lifted her petticoat just enough to glimpse the garter. Ah, she hadn’t been lying. It was black and lacy, and there to the side was that little nubby satin rose he’d found with his fingers last night. He slipped his fingers beneath the garter and slid it down and off her shapely, enticing leg, absently twirling the black, lacy thing on
his finger while he righted Hannah’s petticoat.

  If he made her any more comfortable, and in the process made himself any more uncomfortable, he would never get out of this room tonight.

  He rolled her up and into his arms, holding her against his chest with one hand while he pulled down the quilt. She didn’t offer any resistance as he placed her back on the center of the bed and covered her.

  The temptation to kiss her sleeping lips was great, but he resisted. He couldn’t stop with one kiss, not the way he felt right now. He’d wake her, exhausted or not, and take her here and now.

  Jed extinguished the lamp and left quietly, climbing the stairs to his own room, absently twirling the black garter on his finger as he went.

  Chapter 14

  Hannah woke feeling oddly exhilarated. It took her a moment to realize that she could not remember how she’d gotten into her room and into bed, half dressed. There was just a hint of a memory of last night, and that was of Jed carrying her into the hotel.

  She chose a severe dark blue suit and a matching hat, mentally preparing herself for a day of investigation as she dressed. Once Rose admitted that her confession had been a lie, there would be a murderer to catch.

  Descending the stairs slowly, she laid her eyes on Jed, who paced impatiently in the hotel lobby.

  “Good morning,” she said, calling on her most docile voice.

  He pinned his eyes on her and watched as she descended. “Almost good afternoon,” he snapped.

  She smiled as she reached the foot of the stairs. “Have you been waiting for me?”

  He opened his mouth to deny it, she was sure, then hesitated and said, “Yes, damn it.”

  Wearing a pair of brown twill pants, a tan shirt, and a leather vest, his hair golden and soft, his beard a bit more closely trimmed than usual, he looked warm as toast and sweeter than Eden’s blackberry jam. Tall and wide in the shoulders, massively built, he was as hard as Wishing Rock. But inside... Inside he was tender.

  Hannah walked slowly toward him. “Since the sheriff is your friend and brother-in-law, perhaps you could report a theft to him for me,” she said as she reached Jed.

  “A theft?” he repeated.

  “I woke this morning to find something missing from my room.”

  “What’s missing?”

  She lowered her voice and leaned slightly closer to him. “Well, it’s black and has a pink satin rose on one side.”

  He reached into the inside pocket of his vest and withdrew her garter, spinning it on one long, brown finger. “Would this be what you’re looking for?”

  They were alone in the lobby, but she heard people in the dining room, people too close by. “Put that away,” she whispered, covering his hand with hers and putting a halt to his lewd entertainment.

  With a grin he complied, returning the garter to his vest pocket.

  “Want to grab a late breakfast?” he asked, nodding toward the dining room.

  Hannah shook her head. “I don’t think I can eat.” The very idea of the coming confrontation with her sister had her stomach tied in knots.

  Jed nodded as if he understood, then took her arm and headed for the door.

  “This is my responsibility. You don’t have to go with me,” she whispered.

  “Yes, I do,” he said, leaving no room for argument. “Someone tried to kill you, in case you’ve forgotten. You need a bodyguard.”

  “I do not,” she protested weakly.

  He pulled her just a little bit closer. “Hannah Winters, you need a bodyguard more than any woman I’ve ever met.”

  “Because I have a way of irritating people?”

  “Exactly.”

  She didn’t try to send him away, but she did defend herself as they approached the general store. “There’s nothing wrong with speaking one’s mind,” she said primly. “I don’t have time to waste pussyfooting around an issue simply to be diplomatic.”

  “Pussyfooting,” Jed grumbled. “Well,” he added, “you are definitely not diplomatic.”

  “Thank you.”

  A smiling Bertie stood behind the front counter. Her smile faded when she saw Hannah and Jed enter the store. Once they were inside, Jed released his hold on her.

  “Miss Winters,” Bertie said softly; then she bit her bottom lip.

  “How are you, Bertie?” Hannah asked.

  “Fine,” she whispered.

  “I hope you haven’t been working too hard, here,” Hannah said, “You’ve been a tremendous help. Of course, now that Baxter has been released, you can move back into the hotel, if you’d like.”

  Bertie shook her head quickly, nervously. “No, thank you. Rose fixed up a back room for me, and it serves quite nicely. And... and...” she seemed to have a hard time catching her breath.“And I’m not leaving when you go back to Alabama. I’m staying here.” She nodded her head with finality.

  Truly surprised, Hannah raised her eyebrows. “Really?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Bertie said softly but with some force. “I’ve met a fella, and I like the people here, and I like working in the store. Rose said I could stay.” She lifted her chin as if she were ready to do battle.

  Hannah smiled. “I’m happy for you, Bertie.”

  The girl narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “You are?”

  “Of course. I want to meet this young man who’s been calling on you, before I go home.”

  “Oh, you’ve already met Oliver.”

  Her smile faded. “Oliver Jennings?”

  Bertie nodded, her head bobbing with apparent excitement.

  Hannah sighed. Well, there was nothing she could do, was there? She’d have to think on it. “Where is Rose?”

  “Upstairs,” Bertie said, pointing to the door at the back of the store.

  Hannah marched to that door and threw it open. Before her loomed the steep, narrow stairs that led to the Suttons’ living quarters.

  “Now, Hannah,” Jed said calmly as he climbed behind her, “calm down.”

  “Calm down,” she repeated. “Ha! Can you see that sweet girl with that... that ruffian? It’s preposterous.”

  “No more preposterous than you and me,” he said softly.

  She stopped before the door at the top of the stairs. Her heart was firmly lodged in her throat, it seemed. “Are we?” she asked, afraid to turn and look at his face.

  “No,” he whispered.

  Hannah knocked soundly on the door and waited impatiently, tapping her toe. Jed was wrong. The idea of the two of them together was preposterous. As ridiculous as the notion of Bertie and that... that gun-wielding hothead Oliver Jennings.

  * * *

  He didn’t like this at all. Hannah looked like she might burst at any moment. Her face was pale, her spine rigid, her eyes wide and horrified.

  “I’m sorry to tell you this,” Rose said calmly. “But it’s the truth. I went to see Reverend Clancy that morning to tell him to leave me alone or I’d go to his wife and inform her of his improper advances. He was so smug, so self-righteous.” In spite of her apparent calm, Rose shuddered, visibly and deep. “He stood up and laid his hands on my shoulders, and when I tried to back away he”—the calmness wavered, and a hint of panic touched Rose’s eyes—“he grabbed me and put his mouth on me; he put his hands on my... on my...”

  “That’s enough,” Baxter said, his voice low and clear. He stood behind his wife, his hand on her shoulder.

  “So I grabbed the knife from the table beside his chair, and I just... I swiped out at him. I just wanted him to back down, to let me go, but the knife went into his chest and he fell back into his chair. He grabbed his chest and began to curse, and I panicked and ran home.”

  “I went there to see if I could doctor his wound,” Baxter said, when it was clear Rose was capable of saying no more. “And to tell him that if he pressed charges I’d see that everyone in town knew what he’d been up to. He was already dead.”

  “I didn’t mean to kill him,” Rose said softly.

  “
Sounds like an accident to me,” Jed said. “Why did you lie about what happened?”

  “I wasn’t going to take the chance that Rose would end up in jail,” Baxter said. He laid his eyes on Jed. “I never got the chance to thank you yesterday. How on earth did you get the judge to set such a light sentence?”

  Jed grinned. “Harry and I used to run together, before he became a judge. Before the word dignified was even in his vocabulary. Let’s just say I know a few secrets the judge would rather not be made common knowledge.”

  “You blackmailed him,” Hannah said tersely.

  “Yep.”

  He had to get her out of here before she exploded. This news was tough on her, tougher than he’d imagined it would be. “Let’s go,” he said, standing and offering Hannah his hand. She took it and rose to her feet.

  “I guess I’ll be heading back to Alabama,” she said, “now that things here are in order.”

  Rose’s face softened, and she stood to face Hannah. “Stay until Christmas.”

  Hannah shook her head.

  “It’s just a week away,” Rose added. “And we haven’t spent a Christmas together in too long.”

  Hannah capitulated much too easily, nodding her agreement. “All right. I can manage another week.”

  A week. It had been years since he’d spent that long with a woman, and yet he was certain it wouldn’t be enough with Hannah.

  He followed her down the stairs, watching the set of her back and the tension in her neck. A few tendrils of dark red hair had escaped and trailed softly across that creamy neck. Her shoulders were squared, and when she reached the foot of the stairs and he got a good look at her face, he could see that escaping the confines of Rose’s rooms had not eased her distress one bit.

  Ah, he knew just how to make her forget this bad news. For a while, anyway.

  On the boardwalk, she headed with clipped steps back toward the hotel. “I don’t know why I agreed to stay for another week,” she snapped. “I’m not needed here. There’s nothing for me to do.”

  “Now, Hannah,” he said, easing up beside her and taking her arm in his.

  “Don’t you now Hannah me,” she cracked.