by BJ James
“When he didn’t need her anymore.”
Jeb nodded. Perhaps neither The Black Watch nor he could be absolved for hurting Nicole, but she never wore the sun-face medallion. She was alive, and one day she would be happy again. He had that to take with him.
“Ready?” Matthew’s hand moved from his shoulder.
Jeb looked up at the sky. It would be dawn soon. “Yeah,” he said as he turned his back to the sea. “I’m ready.”
* * *
The hospital was white. The walls were white, the floors, the ceiling, the linens. The stretcher where Jeb lay while a surgeon stitched his forearm had been white.
“That should do it. You lost a lot of blood, would’ve lost more if Ryan hadn’t applied the pressure bandage. But you’re a lucky man, Mr. Tanner. Without that bracelet deflecting the blade, this would have severed a couple of tendons, and cost you the use of your fingers. I don’t know what sort of work you do, but not many of us can afford the virtual loss of a hand. So there’s fortune in your misfortune.” Dr. Gordon, a middle-aged physician who’d seen more misfortune than he ever wanted to, took a prescription pad from his pocket, scratched something on it, scribbled his name at the bottom and ripped it from the pad.
“Knife wounds can be tricky, have this filled at the hospital pharmacy.” He handed the folded paper to Jeb. “Take it easy for a while, until the blood you lost is regenerated, and take this religiously. Even good fortune sometimes needs help.”
“Right.” Jeb sat up, sliding into what was left of his shirt. He hadn’t thought to change, now it was too late. He was a walking reminder of the everything Nicole needed to forget. But no help for it now. “Thanks, doc.”
Dr. Gordon peered at him over his glasses. “You won’t mind if I don’t say ‘any time’?”
Jeb laughed. He hadn’t thought he could so soon. “I won’t mind.”
Saying he’d walked in, and he would walk out, Jeb refused the offer of a wheelchair and went in search of Nicole. He found her huddled in the corner of a waiting room. Mitch and Matthew were there. A small silent circle, together, but apart. When he appeared at the door, torn and bloodstained, a collective gasp rose from others who waited in their own anxious misery.
Only Nicole didn’t look up. Only she didn’t react.
Matthew’s dark gaze found his, flicked over the bulky bandage at his arm and moved back to Nicole. A touch, a soft word, and he rose, with Mitch following.
Her lips moved in response to their kindness, but Jeb couldn’t hear. As Matthew and Mitch passed him, he didn’t look away from her bowed head, and only nodded at their parting wish of luck. His luck had run out. One look at her anguish was proof of it.
One by one, others found some urgent need to be somewhere. A bite to eat, a cup of coffee, a cigarette, the need to stretch cramped legs. One by one they drifted away, until there was only the sad, beautiful woman and the wounded, gray-eyed warrior.
“Nicky.” He knelt at her feet, lifting her face with a touch at her chin. Her eyes were dark, as dark as a secret forest, heartache burned in them with a hot, green fire.
“I did this. He trusted me and...” Her voice drifted away, her sins too numerous and too terrible to recount.
“You’re wrong.”
“Don’t.” She held up a hand warding off his denial and stared blankly at the flickering screen of a television. “Let it be.”
But he couldn’t. “If you must condemn someone, why not everyone?” Then one after another he ticked off a multitude of transgressions. Real and imaginary, some intended, others sheer happenstance. “Why not Tony for firing the gun? Mitch for not risking a chancy shot and failing to taken Tony down quicker? Matthew for not finding Ashley’s trail? Harry for not checking out the guys he saw near the Ashley river bridge? Maybe he saw Tony and Ashley. Then there’s Mrs. Atherton and her vicious gossip. Ashley for believing her. Annabelle for scolding him for believing. And you and I for daring to take a moment for ourselves.”
Jeb paused, drew a rasping breath, and spoke a damning truth. “Most of all, it comes down to me. If it makes it easier to assign guilt, Nicky, consider where it really belongs.”
Nicole turned a stony face to him. Her gaze moved to the bulky bandage at his arm, trailed over the torn shirt marked by his blood and Ashley’s. At last her gaze climbed to his face, registering somewhere in her subconscious the fine lines about his eyes, his fatigue and pallor. He’d lost enough blood that he shouldn’t be on his feet, but she didn’t understand that. Not yet.
“All right,” she said, more to appease him than in belief. “We did this to Ashley. Tony, you and I.” Damning words, words he wanted. But words that weren’t true, for she knew who was at fault.
She, only she, had drawn a killer to the island. Only she had disappointed a friend. Only she had fallen in love with Jeb Tanner.
Her tired, shocked mind lost the thread of coherence, skittering away to an impossible dream. “You and I,” she whispered. “Jeb and Nicole.”
He didn’t understand, he couldn’t. “Nicky...”
“Go away, Jeb,” she interrupted hoarsely. “Don’t make this any harder than it is.”
His shoulders tensed as if she’d struck him. He lifted a hand to touch her, then knew he mustn’t. “All right, Nicky, if that’s what you want.”
Rising, he backed away. He’d come to help, to undo what harm he could. Even that was hopeless. The sooner he was gone from her life, the better. But he couldn’t go, yet. She might need him one more time.
He didn’t speak to her, or go near her again. A subdued Annabelle arrived, with the laconic Harry in tow. Mitch waited by the door. Matthew was never too far from Jeb’s distant seat. An eternity later, a surgeon stepped into the waiting room, searching the expectant faces. When he found Nicole’s bleak gaze, he smiled.
Ashley would recover.
Amid the quiet celebration, Jeb slipped away unnoticed. As he left the hospital, the dawn had come and the day had begun.
His work was done. Simon would finish up here, with the aid of the Gambler‘s crew.
Time to go.
* * *
There were children playing. He heard their laughter long before he climbed the stairs to the top of the dune. For what seemed the ten-thousand-and-second time, he asked himself why he was here.
He knew why.
Beneath the small shelter that covered the landing, he scanned the shore. It seemed it had been forever since he’d looked out at this sandy beach. Forever since he’d kissed a hurting woman, and held her at the crest of the ruin.
A gull wheeled by, riding a breeze. To the sound of squeals and giggles, a mischievous wave washed away an intricate maze of castles and moats built of sand. A child, a little girl, with hair like a raven’s wings, dashed into the surf and was dragged back, laughing and squirming, by an older man.
No, an older kid.
“Ashley.” Jeb discovered he was smiling. Stepping over a wooden railing, and breaking every rule of shoreline conservation, he tramped across the ridge of the dune. In a thicket of sea oats he found a place where he could watch unnoticed. Hunkering down in the sand, he resumed his vigil.
He lost track of time, a rare happening for Jeb. For once, he didn’t care. It was hard to care when the self-appointed guardian of the little ones was having the time of his life.
Finally, in the capricious custom of early April, mild midday heat gave way to a threat of rain. Sunbathing mothers, who had been only too comfortable leaving their toddlers in Ashley’s care, collected beach sheets, lounge chairs and reluctant children, and scurried away.
It was time Jeb left, as well. He’d seen what he’d come to see, heard what he wanted to hear. For months he’d kept informed from a distance, but he wanted, no, he’d needed to see first hand.
He’d needed to see that Ashley was well and happy. He’d needed to hear the laughter of the woman who sat at the base of the ruin.
He hadn’t let himself think of her. After first glance,
he hadn’t risked a second look. But the image of the familiar, faded swimsuit with its matching shirt was etched indelibly in his memory.
Jeb climbed to his feet, time to go again.
Sand shifted and slid beneath his feet, fine granules stung his face. He looked to the horizon, storm clouds seethed at its edge. A squall was building over the sea.
“Jeb.”
He looked down, surprised that Ashley stood at the base of the dune, but stunned that he remembered. “Hello, Ashley.”
“My beach.” He thumped his bare chest, oblivious of the scar that curved over it. His grin was warm, amiable.
Jeb looked at the ruin. Nicole had left her post. “Sure,” he said softly, “I suppose it should be.”
Ashley launched into a rambling monologue, complete with expansive gestures. Jeb had never heard him so vocal, nor so animated. And he didn’t understand a word.
“He’s saying thank you, Jeb.”
Nicole had climbed the steps, she stood not an arm’s length from him. She’d worn no hat today and her hair was tousled, her skin flushed from the sun, her level gaze was at peace. Her fragrance, blended with the scent of the sea, drifted on the breeze. An intoxicating mix that stirred an old need, one that never really left him.
She was so beautiful, and so close, all he needed to do to draw her into his arms was reach out. His fists clenched on an impulse so strong he barely recalled he’d thrown away the right to hold her.
He’d been fool enough without making a greater one of himself. Pretending that it hadn’t been months of agony since he’d seen her, and that Jeb Tanner, master spy, hadn’t been caught spying, he asked, “Why would he thank me, Nicky?”
“For the same things I could thank you for. That I should have thanked you for months ago. My life and Ashley’s. A sense of belonging, at last.” Her gaze swept over him. He looked brawny and healthy, but the fire had gone from him. He seemed jaded and world weary. She missed the zeal, the passion, the smile that turned his harsh features magnificently handsome.
The months since August had been a healing time for her. A time of coming to terms with who she was, and what she was not. She’d learned then to accept what she couldn’t change, and to assume only the guilt that was hers.
Her life was better than it had been before, but none of it had been easy. None of it would have been possible without Jeb.
Matthew counselled patience, and at last she’d understood what Jeb must resolve for himself. But patience was never more difficult than now, when she saw the still unresolved remorse in him. The need.
She’d waited for him to come to her. He had one more step to take, but not here. Not now. She backed away, beyond his reach. Beyond her own need.
“I know who I am now, and what I want,” she said. “Most of all, I know where I belong. Do you know? You’ve traveled the world, been everywhere, done everything, but to be happy there has to be one special place for each of us. One special place where we belong.
“Where is your place, Jeb? Where do you belong?”
She backed away another step. Ashley was at her heels, frightened by the flicker of lightning and the first low growl of thunder. “I have to take Ashley home to Charleston. His aunt Patrice will be waiting. She only lent him to me for the day.”
At Jeb’s quick look, Nicole smiled. “He lives with her now. I’m sure you knew that, but it’s more than an arrangement that works for both of them. They’re the last surviving members of a family. They were alone, now they have each other. Again, thanks to you.”
Patrice Blakemond, a wealthy woman so reclusive even the nosiest grandes dames of Charleston knew little or nothing of her, and Ashley? Stranger things had happened. “She accepted him?”
“Without reservation.” Before he could ask anything more, she rushed on, “I won’t risk coming back from Charleston in the storm. If I don’t see you again, good luck.”
Ashley caught at her hand, anxious to be away from the threat of the storm. With a slight pressure of her fingers and a smile, Nicole calmed him.
She waited for a new rumble of thunder to fade away. She turned once more to Jeb. Her look lingered on his haggard face. Wishing she could comfort him as easily as Ashley, she called softly, “Be happy.”
* * *
Nicole wandered her garden with a distorted sense of déjà vu. Months ago, a woman had walked through the mists, savoring the last minutes before a summer squall. The time when the air was humid and fragrant with the scent of summer flowers, when the wind lay still and the city beyond the gates disappeared in the hush. Then her world had been Charleston and Kiawah.
But the woman had changed, as the season changed. Flowers bending beneath the gathering weight of the mist were flowers of spring. And her world was Jeb.
Her steps were halting over stones that wandered among the flowers. Her skirt of rich purple brushed the waxen foliage that crowded the walks of her private place. Lace trembled at her breast in the anguish of waiting. She had gambled, played Matthew’s game of patience. But now that patience was strained.
Yet she was sure Jeb cared. Sure Eden hadn’t been a lie. So sure...
The bell by the gate sent its deep notes pealing through the mist. A pretty sound that left her petrified.
Jeb would be waiting beyond the vintage iron.
Had he taken the final step that meant commitment? Or had he come to say goodbye?
The bell sounded again, and again. An urgent demand that she come to him. Reluctant, afraid to hope, on leaden feet she moved down the walk, past crape myrtle and magnolia. At the gate, she stopped, stared. In the hours since she’d left him, he’d fought a battle, and every skirmish had marked him. His hair was tousled, far more than from the wind. Lines at his forehead were deeper, furrows bracketing his mouth harsher, circles beneath his eyes darker. The eyes glaring at her over graceful iron work were blazing.
“Open the gate, Nicky. Open it, or I’ll tear the damned thing off its hinges.”
With shaking fingers she dealt with the latch. When she would have opened it, he was there before her. Iron battered against brick with a metallic clang. Before the echo died, his hands were in her hair, lifting her face to his. She had a second to think how desperate he looked, then she didn’t think at all.
His mouth was fierce against hers. His kiss was greedy, demanding, granting no quarter, accepting none. Before she could offer, he plundered. Where she would take the kiss, he went before her. He was a man adrift, she was his moor, his heart. He drank with a thirst that could be slaked, but never quenched.
When he thought he would die of wanting her, he drew away. Her face still framed in his hands, he leaned his forehead to hers. “Call me bastard and traitor, or anything unspeakable, but don’t send me away, sweetheart. Please,” he whispered. “Not yet.”
Nicole’s heart lifted. This was the fulfillment of her hopes. The last step, the end of a battle. “Never.”
“I’ve fought this and myself and you. I’ve worked to exhaustion to forget, but how can I forget when my dreams won’t? When every night I close my eyes they’re there, waiting for me—filled with you, and lace, and this. I don’t want to fight anymore, Nicky. I...” His desperately rehearsed plea faltered. “What?” He leaned away, his hands slipping to her shoulders. “What did you say?”
Lightning flickered, thunder whispered a warning. A rising wind ruffled a lock of heavy, golden hair, tumbling it over his forehead. With her fingertips she stroked it back. “I said never.”
“But I lied to you.”
She sighed at his determination to recount his offenses. “Did you? Tell me when.”
“By omission, then, if not in fact.”
“And not by choice.”
“You were my Judas goat to catch Tony.”
“I know, and now I understand. But Tony made me that.”
“I walked away from you on Eden.”
“I never expected more than we shared. A kiss isn’t a covenant, Jeb, nor making love a binding pr
omise. There were no obligations on Eden.”
“Dammit! Nicky.” He shook her gently. “Stop being so maddeningly reasonable.”
“Would it help anything if I weren’t?”
“Yes! No! It would help even more if you slapped me silly.”
“I won’t hit you, not ever.” Leaning her cheek against his scarred arm and turning only slightly, she touched the angry blemish with her lips. “You’ve been hurt enough.”
His breath was labored and shallow. “Nicky...”
“Don’t fight me, Jeb.” Lifting her head, she looked up at him. Her eyes were luminous, catching the violet of her dress and the fire of lightning. “I’d much rather you kiss me.”
“Dear heaven, woman. I think before we’re done, I will be mad.” He was already drawing her to him, his head dipping to her.
“Before we’re done?” she murmured against his lips. “When will that be?”
Lightning split the sky, thunder shook the ground beneath their feet. The spiraling storm gave birth to a gale that whipped their breath away, but not before she heard him promise, “Never.”
Eleven
Nicole stood by a window. The sun was bright and strong. But like her, the garden bore lingering traces of a storm in the night.
Through the evening and after, rain had pounded the roof and gushed over the eaves. In the aftermath of lightning that turned the world incandescent, thunder crashed in descending darkness.
But the storm with its unbridled furor was only the minor prelude for a consuming passion.
With a contented smile she gazed out at a perfect world. In the morning light, plant and bloom had never been lovelier than when glistening with captured raindrops as they opened to the sun. She ached pleasantly in every muscle and sinew, and in her bed Jeb slept the restful sleep of absolution.
Nicole tugged her robe closer, wondering if he would ever believe there was nothing that needed forgiving. The harm was Tony’s. The need to insure there would be no more children like Julie Brown transcended the cost. To her, to Jeb and even to Ashley. Now Ashley was safe, as well, thanks to Jeb.
