Blue Moon

by Jill Marie Landis

  “Come here, Olivia,” Noah said softly.

  She scooted around the fire and slowly walked up beside him. He lowered his rifle and took an instant to smile over at her, an instant of time that was long enough for Darcy to bend over and reach inside his boot.

  Noah caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye. Shoving Olivia out of harm’s way, he took a step toward Lankanal. There was a flash of silver. Before he could react, he realized Darcy had thrown a knife. As the weapon flew with deadly accuracy, Olivia screamed.

  Pain slammed into Noah’s shoulder, pain that sent him reeling back. He squeezed the trigger a moment before dropping his rifle. The charge went off, the ball ricocheted against stone, hit no one.

  “Noah!” Olivia screamed and ran toward him.

  “Get out,” he yelled back. “Run to the river. I’ll meet you there.”

  “No. I’ll not leave you,” she cried. “Not again.”

  Her words lent him strength. Noah pulled out the knife, rising to his feet in time to meet Lankanal as the man launched himself at him. The weapon went flying as Noah took the brunt of the gambler’s weight on his injured shoulder and both of them fell to the ground. They were well matched in physical stature, but Noah could tell immediately that Lankanal’s life had made him soft. His own shoulder wound evened the match.

  The way the gambler was carefully aiming each blow told him not to underestimate his opponent.

  Olivia watched Noah and Darcy rolling and punching one another with her hand pressed to her lips to keep from crying out. In the fire’s glow, Noah’s torn red shirt could not conceal the dark, spreading stain quickly covering his shoulder and upper sleeve. The wound was bleeding fast. Noah was favoring his right side and Darcy was wise enough to aim many of his blows there. Somehow, when Darcy made it to his feet, Noah shakily rose to meet him.

  With a blow to the face, Noah opened a cut over Darcy’s eye that began to bleed profusely, hampering Darcy’s vision. The leveling seemed to fuel Noah with newfound energy and he began to pound Darcy in earnest, knocking him to the ground, hammering him in the face, the jaw, the temple.

  When she saw Darcy lose his grip on Noah’s shirtfront, falling to lie there senseless, Olivia knew she had to act. She ran across the cave, reached for Noah. He did not hear her, did not stop pounding Darcy with his fists. She took hold of his shirt and began to shake him.

  “Stop, Noah! Don’t kill him. Please, let him go.”

  Noah might as well have been swimming in deep water. He could hear Olivia calling to him but her voice was coming from somewhere far away, tugging at him, demanding attention. He tried to shrug it off, but as the tugging became more insistent, Olivia’s voice became louder until he realized they were connected, that she had knelt beside him in the dirt and was pulling on his shirt. He blinked and looked over at her, slowly surfacing, coming back to the moment, coming into himself. Shaking his head, he tried to clear his vision. Blood droplets flew, spattering her cheek. It wasn’t until he saw the bright red blood against her pale skin that he settled fully into himself and realized where he was.

  Darcy Lankanal lay sprawled on the floor beneath his straddled legs. The gambler’s once-handsome face, so flawless, so perfectly angelic, was a mass of cuts and ugly welts. His left eye was the size of a goose egg, swollen shut.

  “Don’t kill him, Noah,” Olivia begged again. “Please.”

  Noah realized those were the same words he had been hearing, that she was kneeling in the dirt beside him begging for mercy—for Lankanal.

  “Don’t kill him?” he whispered. He looked down, finding it hard to believe he had nearly beaten the man to death already.

  She took his battered hands in hers, held them, smoothed her fingers over his torn knuckles.

  “Don’t do it, Noah. You will regret it for as long as you live.”

  He blinked, trying hard to understand. She gave up trying to keep her ruined gown closed. It gaped open, exposing her chemise and the bruises on her breasts.

  “You want him to live?” Noah tried to understand, but his mind was so muddied. His shoulder was on fire. He ached all over.

  “I don’t want you to kill him.” She nodded, speaking slowly, carefully, as if he had forgotten the English words.

  He shook his head, still trying to clear it. “You do love him, then?”

  “Oh, no, Noah. I don’t love him.” She reached out and smoothed his matted hair off of his face, straightening his headband so that it covered his scar. “I just don’t want you to have his soul on your conscience for the rest of your life.”

  “But … he hurt you.” As long as he lived, he would never forget seeing her suffering Darcy’s abuse.

  She nodded. “Let him go. He’s not worth it.”

  Noah put his hand to his head, trying to think clearly. It was hard, with his brain still rattling around. “If we let him go, he will always be out there somewhere. He will keep coming back, again and again.” His thoughts were coming faster now. The fog was slowly lifting. “He is obsessed with you, Olivia. He tried to blame a murder on me, tried to get me out of the way, to be certain that I hung.”

  Noah looked down at the gambler. Olivia followed his gaze. Darcy was conscious and staring up at both of them through his bloodshot eye.

  Olivia put one hand on Noah’s good shoulder and leaned over Lankanal.

  “Listen to me, Darcy, and listen well. It’s over.”

  Even semiconscious, Darcy realized that he would have to throw away his very expensive, very fashionable, French-tailored swallowtail coat.

  The idea of ever wearing it again was disgusting him more than the pain in his head, the throbbing cut over his eye, or the fact that Olivia’s half-breed was still straddling him, pinning him to the dirt. He should have never worn the coat to Illinois. None of the local dirt farmers, saline miners or emigrants had even recognized it for the fine article of clothing that it was.

  “Darcy? Did you hear me?” Olivia was leaning over him, looking radiantly pale—an impossibility, he reminded himself. He would have smiled at the jest, but his face hurt.

  “Hear what?” he tried to whisper. He swallowed and tasted blood.

  “It’s over. Go back to New Orleans and leave me alone,” Olivia said.

  “I can’t hear you with him sitting on me like this,” he complained.

  She looked at her lover and nodded. “Go ahead, Noah, kill him.”

  Darcy raised his hand to ward off a blow. “Wait!”

  Looking up at the two of them kneeling above him, Darcy saw them exchange a look that excluded the rest of the world—and he suddenly realized how Olivia could still look so lovely, so openly joyous, even though she was kneeling there in the dirt in her soiled, ruined dress.

  It was love that glowed in her eyes. Love for the man beside her. Earlier, before LeCroix had burst into the cave, she had declared her love for the legendary river pilot openly. With a sinking feeling, Darcy had known that nothing would extinguish her love for the half-breed. Nothing. He knew it as sure as he knew that the nose on his face was broken and he would never wear his fine coat or shirt again.

  She had been willing to destroy them both; he had seen it in her eyes when she had pledged to kill him. If he did not give up his obsession and let her go, he would be forced to watch her destroy herself—and perhaps himself in the bargain.

  Now, after seeing her face-to-face with LeCroix, after knowing she would never submit to him again, no matter what he offered, no matter where he took her, how long he kept her, he knew his only alternative was to let her go. Let her be and forget her.

  “All right. It’s over,” he mumbled.

  “What did you say?” Noah LeCroix’s hand tightened on his collar.

  “It’s over,” he said as loud and clear as he could through busted lips. “But I’m not doing this for you, LeCroix. I’d sooner you killed me.” He looked over into Olivia’s deep green eyes, sincere in every word. “I’m doing this for you, Olivia, because I
know that you will never care about me the way you do him. It’s too late for that. Maybe if we had met another way, another time, perhaps it would have worked out.” He shrugged, “But now all I can do is let you go.”

  He tried to smile. His mouth felt like a pulpy mass. Then he looked up at LeCroix and had the satisfaction of seeing that the man’s face was bruised, his shoulder bleeding. It would be a long time before the Prince of the Ohio forgot Darcy Lankanal.

  “Do you think you can get off me now?” He asked LeCroix.

  As Olivia helped her lover to his feet, Darcy lay there watching them, wishing he had learned something about true love a lot sooner.

  Chapter 19

  They left Darcy Lankanal in the cave for the night, propped against the wall with his hands bound, the fire burning low. Assured of the resignation and the defeat in Lankanal’s eyes, Noah believed the man when he gave his word not to pursue Olivia anymore and would have let him go, except that in order to clear his own name he had to take the gambler back to Shawneetown and explain things to Ern Matheson.

  At the base of the hill, beside the river, Olivia washed Noah’s wounds and bound his shoulder by moonlight. Although the knife wound appeared to be clean, he had lost a lot of blood. It took some talking to convince Olivia that he felt better than he looked. For a while, they sat by the bank, each lost in thought, both holding their silence. Noah found it impossible not to think of the scene he had come upon in the cave, nor could he forget the bruises on Olivia’s upper arms or her breasts, any more than he could forget what had happened the night before, when they had made love and she had sent him away.

  His shoulder was hurting like hell. He could only watch her, keeping his own silence. Her long hair hung loose down her back; her ruined dress had slipped off one shoulder. She had to be more exhausted than he, and yet she was wide awake, staring at the dark water of the Ohio as it flowed south.

  Noah looked over at the canoe he had dragged on shore and thought of the proud old man to which it had belonged, of the way the toothless Shawnee had rubbed his palm over the black felt hat before he put it on, the way his chest swelled with pride when he led Payson’s horse away.

  If only they could climb into that canoe and go back to Heron Pond, leave everything and everyone behind, move back to the seclusion and safety of the swamp, where they would not have to look back. Instead, they faced hauling Lankanal back to Shawneetown to clear his name and to let Olivia’s family know that she was safe. Would Olivia go with him if he asked again? Did she love him enough?

  “Noah? Are you all right?” Her soft voice, so full of concern, gently drew him back to reality.

  “I’m fine.” It was a warm night. Outside the dank cave, they needed no fire. He knew he was too tired to eat, but he wasn’t sure about Olivia.

  “How did you find me?”

  He looked at the river, the dark, swift moving water dappled with milk-white moonlight. She had been through too much. He was not going to tell her how the voices in the water had led him to her. Perhaps, someday, if they had any future together, he would tell her about them, about his mother and the voices in the wind, but not tonight.

  “I saw the light from the cave,” he explained, sidestepping the truth.

  She shook her head. “Did they … did you really go to jail?” Looking up at him from where she sat clutching her ruined dress together, she reminded him of a lost little girl.

  “Nah. I went to the smokehouse.”

  “The what?”

  “There is no jail. Ern Matheson locked me in his smokehouse. It wasn’t so bad.”

  “How did you get away?”

  Carefully, feeling every muscle in his body, he lowered himself to the hard ground beside her. “Susanna and your father came to town. She told Matheson and Payson that the reason you really went with Lankanal was because he threatened to harm me, and them, and the boys.”

  She whispered, “She promised me. She gave me her word that she would not tell anyone.”

  He reached over, gently cupped her chin in his hand, met her eyes.

  “She did it to keep me from hanging.”

  A shudder ripped through her.

  “Thank God. What I don’t understand is why in the world anyone would think you wanted Betts dead. You had no cause.”

  “He came into town with Lankanal. I was upset after you sent me away. I was no better than Lankanal that night.”

  She shook her head vehemently. “Not you, Noah. Never you. You have more honor in your little finger than Darcy will ever have in his entire body.”

  “It was almost as if I had stopped thinking. I went looking for Lankanal, but I ran into his friend Betts first, in the tavern. I guess I frightened him pretty bad. Ern said I almost choked him to death.”

  “I can’t bear to hear what I have done to you. I can’t bear it.” She hid her face in her hands.

  “Stop it.” He reached for her wrists and slowly drew her hands away from her face. In the moonlight, the tear streaks on her cheeks glistened silver.

  “I’m so sorry, Noah. I’m sorry for all of it. Because of me, you might have hanged. And tonight, Darcy nearly killed you.”

  “Haven’t you heard yet?”

  “What?”

  “It’ll take more than a fancy-dressed gambler to kill me. I’m the Prince of the Ohio.”

  She sniffed and wiped her eyes again, this time with the hem of her dress.

  “This is no laughing matter, Noah.” Despite her tears, she had to smile. Olivia touched his cheek.

  In the silence, they could hear the river lapping against the shore. The air was close and heavy. Not a leaf moved, not a blade of grass. Somewhere an owl hooted.

  He still wanted her, now and forever. Wanted to make her his in every way, wanted to ask her to marry him, but he was more scared of asking and being turned away again than he had been facing Darcy’s blade back in the cave.

  Ask her. He could hear Hunter’s bold laugh. Ask her.

  The words stuck in his throat.

  He reached for her and slowly opened the ragged edges of the gown, exposing dark bruises on ivory skin bathed by moonlight.

  “Now he has marked me on the outside, too,” she said with a broken sigh.

  As tenderly as he could, he traced her bruises with his fingertips, wished he could erase them with a touch. He was afraid to move, to touch her the way he wanted, to take her in his arms and make her forget Darcy and all that had happened. The moonlight illuminated the tears shimmering in her eyes.

  She slipped her arms around him and pressed her face against his neck. He tilted her face to his, touched his lips to hers and felt her melt. She kissed him full and deep, urging him to kiss her back, opening to him, teasing him with her tongue.

  He wanted to communicate his love to her through his touch, tried to tell her all the things he could not say, but he was still haunted by something she had said to him at the campsite.

  “I keep wondering,” he whispered against her cheek, “about what you told me about Darcy pleasing you. I know you spoke those words to make me angry enough to leave you, but I can’t get them out of my head.”

  Olivia went perfectly still. She hated knowing how much she had hurt him, how the things she had said to save his life still made him doubt himself. Hugging him close, she smoothed her hand down his spine, resting it in the hollow at the small of his back.

  “Noah, I said those things at the campsite to keep you safe, to make you so angry that you would go home and forget about me. Never, ever, think that Darcy is better than you … at anything. His touch made me feel filthy and sick inside. Yours gives me life. When you touch me, you make me feel whole and pure and good again. Never, ever doubt yourself.”

  “Then let me help you now,” he whispered. “Let me help you forget this night.”

  She knew that what she was doing was wrong, that she should stop him before it was too late, but she could not stop herself any more than Noah could have turned the direction of the cu
rrent of the river behind them. Darcy’s attack had left her shaken; her own thoughts of killing him and herself had left her feeling bleak and empty inside. Noah was offering the one thing she knew would redeem her, if only for a while.

  His touch was gentle, hesitant. He was not asking for any more than she was willing to give. She wanted him in every way. She wanted him to take her and make her his again, to tell him that she was ready to take back everything she had ever done to hurt him, that if he would only ask again she would go with him to Heron Pond.

  For a brief second before he kissed her, she thought perhaps he was going to say the words she longed to hear, but the moment passed. She had no right to expect any more than this, for she had wounded him deeply one too many times. Perhaps she had finally convinced him that she was only good enough for this sharing of desires, these stolen moments of passion, and nothing more.

  When his hand slid up her thigh, she held perfectly still. When he brushed the fabric of her gown up her legs, she felt the warm kiss of the night air on her skin and shivered. Always the more honorable one, he hesitated before he touched her intimately, seeking permission. She sensed his reservation.

  “Please, Noah,” she breathed, no better than what Darcy had made her, no worse than a woman in love.

  He took her then, his hands sure as they found her center. His fingers slipped into her honeyed warmth, slowly, deliciously moving gently until she clung to him and cried out his name. His damp hair swept her cheek and then her breasts, cool against her fevered skin as he moved down her, kissing her breasts, suckling her until she writhed with pleasure against the soft summer grass beneath them.

  Gentle and yet masterful, he moved down her, worshipping her, caressing her, cleansing her of the past, of all she was before until she felt new and whole, treasuring each and every breathtaking sensation, every word and touch and sigh.

  His hands were sure as he parted her. There was no doubt or hesitation as he moved between her legs, rose and entered her, holding himself back, thinking of her pleasure, taking her little by little. She felt herself stretch for him as he filled her. Slowly they began to move together. There was no frenetic rush, not like the last time at his campsite, when she thought that his life was in jeopardy, that she was leaving him for good, forever. Tonight, there was all the time in the world.