by Angel Smits
Forcing her mind to clear, she extended the comb to him. “Look at the back.” His warm fingers closed around both the hard metal and her hand. She quickly pulled away, retreating several steps. Her fingers tingled. Anticipation built in the air between them. If they weren’t careful, someone could get burned.
“It’s heavy.” He looked at the comb, inspecting its several jewels.
“I think it’s real gold,” she said.
“I’d bet it is.”
“There’s an inscription.”
He turned the comb over and read the words she’d found earlier. “The only thing missing is the brooch,” he whispered as his gaze flicked to the empty neckline of her dress.
Faith’s hands trembled as she touched the empty spot on her throat. “I . . . I looked for it.” She turned and paced again. “But a woman’s voice said, ‘It’s mine.’”
“A voice?” His left eyebrow lifted, and he stared at her.
“I knew you’d think I was crazy, but it’s not the first time I’ve heard it. There’s, well, laughter, too.” How did she describe the laughter to him? Or the shivers it sent through her? He was already looking at her as if she’d lost her mind.
A sudden blast of wind slammed against the window, and Faith jumped. It howled around the building, and the lights flickered for a moment. There’d been so many storms lately. Was there a connection? That was ridiculous. It was impossible.
Still, what if there was?
“Have you noticed an odd change in the weather lately?” She moved closer to that gorgeous window, gazing through its height to the sky beyond. Dark, scudding clouds gobbled up the stars.
“Yeah. It’s been odd. You’re starting to lose me here, lady. What’s going on?”
“You asked me if I believed in another life. Now it’s my turn. Do you believe in ghosts?” She looked over her shoulder at him, wondering if she’d lost her sanity.
“In what?”
“You heard me.” She moved to face him. Only an inch separated them. The wind increased in intensity. She stepped back and it lessened. “Go along with me for a minute,” she whispered, running her fingers over the rough stubble of his jaw.
Loud thunder clapped around them, and while she heard it, it disappeared in the storm going on in her heart. Cord’s hands encircled her waist, pulling her into his arms. She should have warned him this was only a test. But she hadn’t, and now she was paying for it.
What a delicious price. His lips claimed and consumed hers, seeking the passion their dreams had only hinted at. The heat of his hands was everywhere, devouring the velvet and her. Fever leaped through her, matched by his rising desire.
The world vanished except for the feel of his lips as they plundered hers. She ached and knew he could ease the throbbing deep inside her. Her lips parted, and his warm, moist tongue took the offered advantage. Her sigh of contentment drowned in the fury of the storm around them and created a tempest between them.
A tempest that caught Cord up, too. He knew the woman was up to something, but he didn’t have the foggiest notion what. At the moment he didn’t really care. He wanted her, and what had been a dream before became blessed reality. He needed to see if she was the same as in his dream. His fingers traveled up over the tight bodice to the full swell of her breasts.
The softness of the fabric, combined with the warm smoothness of her skin, drove him to distraction. The fabric, barely covering her rounded breasts, teased him. Cord wanted to tear the cloth away. He was sure he’d drown in his own passion.
His lips left hers, blazing a trail down her chin and neck. The hard tip of her nipple pushed against the velvet. She leaned back, and the dark circle peeked out above the low neckline. His moan of pleasure drowned in the thunder.
Cord drove Faith to the brink of insanity with his touch. His kisses dampened the fabric, and it clung to her, hot and wet. She expected steam to rise around them. His mouth found her hardened nipple, and she gasped. Warning bells rang out—warning bells the storm smothered.
He intended to make love to her, here and now, and Faith knew there was nothing she could do to stop him. Nothing she wanted to do to stop him.
From the dream, they knew where the buttons were on the back of the dress. Her shyness gone, Faith turned in his embrace, presenting the long row of buttons to him. She grasped her long hair and pulled it over one shoulder. Glancing over the other, she begged him with her eyes to make her dreams real.
His fingers trembled, but Cord managed to slip the pearl buttons through the tiny loops. Soon the expanse of her bare back was visible to him. He slipped his hands inside the loosened bodice. Her skin was both silk and satin, and his fingers greedily sought to touch it all. Slipping his hands across her back and around her sides, he cupped the full weight of her breasts in his palms.
Faith leaned against Cord, reveling in the feel of his shirt against her back and the heat his fingers created against her bare skin. Warmth rose inside her and escaped in a flush where her thighs met. She wanted him there, wanted him filling her. The way he held her made it impossible to move. Entrapment in the delicious vise of his arms only enhanced the ache inside.
Cord nuzzled her hair, pushing it aside until he found the tender skin at the back of her neck. Gently, he nibbled there and Faith’s legs trembled. Soon they’d give out and she’d fall to the floor. The hot surge of his breath sent goose bumps over her sensitized skin.
“I want you,” he breathed against her as his fingers tightened.
Cord caught her weight as her knees gave way, and shivers shook her as she felt the hard edge of his arousal. Carefully, he turned her into his embrace. The hem of the skirt wrapped around her feet and she stumbled, bringing her closer.
He slid his arms beneath her knees and set her on top of the desk. Ledgers and papers flew to the floor.
His touch smoldered and burned through her as he brought his lips to hers. Their bodies were close. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. She pulled and the buttons gave. She parted the fabric and leaned against his bare skin.
His hands burned a trail up and down the ridge of her back and teased the sensitive area below her waist. He stepped away, still keeping his lips on hers and pulled the bodice over her shoulders and down her arms. Her breasts fit so well into the palm of his hands. For several long moments he worked the same magic as before. Gathering her against him, an inferno erupted as his heated flesh met hers.
A loud roar from the wind battered at the window in rhythm with her pounding heart. Suddenly, the storm burst through. The sound of shattering glass filled the room and shards rained down on them.
Cord pulled her close, shielding her as much as possible, but still several pieces cut across her shoulders and back. She clung to him, sure the room would fall around them at any moment.
In the distance they heard thumps. After a few seconds, Cord realized someone was pounding on the door he’d locked earlier. “Just a minute,” he yelled, and the sound ceased. A voice came through the roar of the wind, but she couldn’t make out the words.
Rain soaked everything. Cord set her on her feet. He pulled up the front of her dress. Gathering her close against his side, Cord helped her walk into the adjoining bathroom. The walls muffled the roar of the storm.
“I need to unlock the door for Johnny. I’ll be right back.” He left her alone.
The bathroom was tiny and quaint. And cold. She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. What was happening between them? She’d never been this wanton—and yet the feelings he created in her were so wonderful and warm. She closed her eyes, reliving Cord’s touch, his kisses, his heat.
Once again the familiarity of it shook her. She’d known things . . . she’d expected certain feelings . . . as if she’d done this before. Which she hadn’t. She heard all the words her father had said, all the l
ectures on what constituted good behavior. But how could something so wonderful be so wrong?
Opening her eyes, Faith caught sight of herself in the mirror. She looked wan and bedraggled with her damp hair hanging in her face. Numerous cuts scattered across her shoulders and back. Tiny rivulets of blood ran down her chest, soaking into the delicate fabric. A stab of guilt shot through her that she’d damaged the beautiful dress.
Suddenly, all the cuts stung. She reached for a washcloth that hung on the rack beside the sink. She soaked it in warm water then applied it to her skin, hoping to stem some of the bleeding. She slowly peeled the wet fabric away from her skin.
“I won.” The familiar but unwelcome voice echoed malevolently in the tiny bathroom. Shivers of a different sort skittered up Faith’s spine.
“Who are you?”
“He’s mine, too. Don’t you understand?”
Faith looked up at the mirror and saw her own reflection again. And then she saw her. The woman stood only inches behind her. When Faith turned, there was no one there. Slowly, she returned her gaze to the mirror. The woman was still there. A scream tore from Faith’s throat.
The reflection wore old-fashioned pantalets and a camisole cut low over her breasts. Her ebony hair was coiled high atop her head, much like Faith’s had been earlier. At her throat, which she was busy caressing, was Maria’s brooch pinned to a strand of black velvet ribbon. A sinister laugh echoed in the room and inside Faith’s head.
“It’s all mine now, Maria. And I’m not giving up.”
Cord tore open the door, and the image of the woman vanished, leaving Cord in its wake.
“Are you all right?” He stared at the blood sliding down her skin. “I heard you scream.” He stepped toward her, taking her shoulders gently between his hands. “We need to get you to the doctor. It looks like there’s some glass in there.”
“She was here.” Her voice was weak and frightened. Faith stood stiff, unable to move.
“Who?” He didn’t look like he really wanted to know the answer.
“Her. The ghost I told you about. She was wearing the brooch.”
“You’ve had quite a shock.” He spoke through clenched teeth.
“I’m not making this up.” She grabbed his arm. His eyes met hers.
“I know.” He gently steadied her and stared at her for a long minute. Nearly too long before speaking again. “Doc’s clinic isn’t far. We can talk later.” The command in his voice calmed and soothed her. “Can you pull the dress up?”
She shook her head. The tight bodice would pull painfully against her skin.
“Here, step out of it.” He helped her pull the soaked dress downward. When he came to the garters and stockings, he stopped. Looking up at her, the fire rekindled. She saw him swallow hard. “I have a change of clothing in the office. It’ll be a bit big, but it’ll get you to the doc.” He beat a hasty retreat, as if not trusting himself to be alone with her.
The sounds of hammering came through the door, and she wondered what was going on. The wind raged softer. She shivered and clutched the damp dress in front of her, as much for warmth as to hide from Cord’s heated gaze when he returned.
“Here. It’s not the best, but it’ll do.” Cord handed her a white shirt, like the one he wore and a pair of black sweat pants. “I’d like to stay and help . . . out . . . uh . . . I . . . I’ll wait out here.” He tore his gaze away from her. The passion between them had only been interrupted.
Faith slipped out of the stockings and pulled on the sweat pants. They were warm against her chilled legs. Then she pulled on the shirt. The fabric rubbed against the cuts, but it was big enough that the pain was bearable. Red stains quickly appeared on the pristine fabric.
Afraid to look in the mirror—and just as afraid not to—Faith turned to find only her own reflection in the glass. She saw the pain and disappointment in her eyes. That disappointment upset her nearly as much as the window’s menace.
She’d wanted Cord’s touch, wanted him to love her, right there on that desk. Was she more Maria than she wanted to be? What did Cord think? Did he see her as Faith . . . or a harlot? Shaking her head, she thrust her thoughts away.
“No,” she whispered to the bedraggled woman staring back at her. “I’m not crazy.” Saying the words aloud helped, but not enough to convince her someone wasn’t trying to control her very existence.
With a determination she didn’t feel in her heart, Faith pulled the door open. Cord and Johnny had nailed boards over the broken window. They both turned and looked at her. She gave a defiant lift of her chin and clung to her pride—what was left of it.
“I . . . I want to leave the dress here. We can take it back to Opal tomorrow.” She sought any normal topic of conversation. She looked at the disaster the papers and ledgers made on the floor. Anyone would believe the wind had caused such a mess. She and Cord knew better. She blushed with the memories.
“There.” Johnny stepped back from the window. “That ought to do it. Hey, kiddo, you okay?” His voice was filled with genuine concern for her.
“I think so.”
“Call Doc James and tell him we’ll meet him at the clinic. She has some pretty deep cuts,” Cord said.
“Sure thing.” Johnny nodded and left without another word.
“Can you wear a jacket?” As she shook her head, Cord gently took her elbow, steadying her. He wanted her to look at him, she was sure of it. She adamantly examined the top button of his shirt.
“Faith?” She refused to meet his gaze. Gently, as if to avoid hurting her, he tilted her chin and placed a warm and loving kiss on her brow.
Before she could speak, and before the sweet, protective feelings melted away, he led her out through the casino.
The incident had disrupted the gamblers for only a few minutes. Normality reigned, and they continued betting. Only a few heads turned as Cord and Faith headed toward the side door near the bar and slipped into the night.
Only the bartender noticed the red rose that suddenly appeared on the bar. He tossed it into the trash beneath the bar. Wicked laughter faded into the noise of the slot machines as they rang out jackpot after jackpot.
Seven
CORD HELD TIGHT to Faith’s elbow as they hurried through the rain to his jeep. With each soggy step his concern for her grew.
The cuts were a physical threat, but what worried him more was her mental state. He didn’t think she was crazy. Hell, after all the things he’d seen in his life, nothing really surprised him. What he feared was the toll this seemed to be taking on her. He’d seen men stronger than her crack. His grip tightened, and he urged her into a quicker pace.
He kept telling himself that he couldn’t make her his concern. He really couldn’t. Yet he felt himself reach out to her, his mind working to find answers to ease her fear. The urge to pull her close and protect her overwhelmed and surprised him.
Was that sucking sound he heard caused by his feet pulling from the muddy puddles, or was it his resolve to keep his distance from her going under?
THE DOCTOR’S OFFICE was little more than a converted storefront. Faith only vaguely registered the “For Sale” sign in the window. Like everyone else in town, the doctor apparently hoped to make an extra dollar or two by selling his property to a casino.
Cord ushered Faith in as soon as the doctor opened the door. Johnny had called ahead explaining the situation, just as Cord had asked.
“What about you?” The doctor looked Cord over from head to toe.
“I’m fine. She was nearest the window.”
Faith was grateful Cord didn’t mention she’d been practically nude, while he’d had his shirt for protection. Seemingly pleased with the answer, the old man nodded and led her into the examination room. She blinked in the bright florescent light.
Cord stayed in the ramsha
ckle waiting room, and through the open door, Faith watched him, comforted by his presence. He paced at first, then sat down to read a dog-eared sports magazine. Even then, his eyes flicked back and forth as if keeping tabs on her.
Dr. Raymond James, an elderly man, walked with a heavy, shuffling step across the examination room. He closed the door with a solid click and spoke with an age-worn voice. Time had not been kind to this man, and Faith wondered why he still practiced medicine in this remote little town. The familiar desire to hold her camera and capture him itched in her fingers.
Decorations were at a bare minimum in the office. She suspected it was more from lack of time than desire. She’d noticed stacks of patient files in the front office when they’d passed it. Here in the examination room, everything was utilitarian and every space judiciously used. The doctor spared no room for frivolity.
He set about his work with the same no-nonsense attitude, gathering modern, clean instruments from the neatly arranged drawers. Despite his age, his hand was steady and sure.
Only two of the cuts required stitches, but both of them were located close to major veins. “You’re a lucky young lady. Another inch or two . . . ” He shook his head. “These old windows are so fragile.”
Tired and weak from the loss of blood and frazzled nerves, Faith didn’t answer him.
“All this renovation, they should replace ‘em, not keep ‘em,” he grumbled as he took another stitch in the deep cut just below her collarbone. He spent several minutes pulling out slivers of glass. “You know, you look awfully familiar. You from around here?”
“No. I’m just working here for a short time.” She sucked in her breath as his needle pierced her skin again. The anesthetic he’d given her had been only partially effective.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, but he didn’t stop his work. He carefully sponged just ahead of a trickle of blood. “You still look real familiar. You got relatives here?”
