Velvet Thunder

by Teresa Howard

  “Damn, Rad, you could’ve at least let me introduce her before you swept her off her feet.” Heath made the necessary introductions, then took Stevie’s hand. Unconsciously, he ran his thumb over her knuckles. “And no, she’s not your sister-in-law. I haven’t been able to get her to accept my honorable proposal. That’s why I brought her home. Hoping that we could all gang up on her and force her into it.”

  Ginny and Kinsey exchanged glances. “Hah,” the southern ladies said at the same time. They knew from experience that God had not created the woman who could refuse a Turner when he set his mind to winning her. The love shining in Stevie’s eyes told them that she was no different from the rest of the female race. She was a goner.

  Kinsey stepped forward and took Stevie’s hand from Heath. She led her to a low sofa. “You’ll get no help or pity from us, you scoundrel,” she said to Heath. “You haven’t even bought her a ring.”

  “Pitiful,” Ginny clucked, taking a seat on Stevie’s other side. Emily and Ann voiced sisterly support of the other women. Stevie just blushed.

  “What’s got their back up?” Rad asked.

  Heath shrugged, bewildered. Chap looked away guiltily. He had told Kinsey about Stevie’s pregnancy. Obviously, she had told Ginny. If he didn’t watch his plain-spoken wife, she would be calling Heath on the carpet and demanding a wedding within twenty-four hours. That wouldn’t do at all. Stevie would never forgive him. And since she would be his sister-in-law for the next fifty years or so, he hoped they could be friends.

  Intent on charming them out of their pique, the men joined their ladies.

  Kinsey served tea as the children ran wild. When the hellions grew quiet, it drew the adults’ attention.

  India Turner walked through the door. She spared her grandchildren not so much as a glance. It was as if all the air were sucked out of the room. Slowly, she made her way to the circle of adults. Her first words were not of welcome, nor did she sit. Rather, she regarded Ann harshly and spat out, “You did ask Eugene and his sister to tea as I told you, didn’t you?”

  Ann squared her shoulders and lifted her chin defiantly. “No, Mother. I did not. I wanted to spend a pleasant afternoon welcoming my brother and his lovely friend. Eugene will join us for dinner. As for dear Eugenia, frankly, the woman gives me the creeps. I didn’t invite her to dinner. Nor do I ever intend to invite her into this home.”

  Heath stood stiffly and pulled Stevie up beside him. “Mother.” He paused until he gained her attention. “May I present my fiancée, Miss Stephanie Johns. Stevie, my mother.”

  Stevie excused Heath for introducing her as his fiancée. In the face of India Turner, she needed all the legitimacy he could lend her. When she found a pleasant smile and pasted it on her face, her lips felt numb, along with the rest of her. “I’m pleased to meet you, Mrs. Turner.”

  India took her time, scrutinizing Stevie from head to toe. She did not return her cordial greeting. “You failed to tell me that she was an Indian.” Her observation sounded quite like an indictment.

  Heath stiffened but Stevie stilled him by gripping his hand. “Yes, ma’am. I’m Indian. Comanche.” There was such pride in Stevie’s voice that everyone in the room admired her even more than they had a moment before.

  Everyone save India Turner. India pulled her skirts aside, as if she couldn’t bear the thought of brushing against Stevie. Hardly necessary considering she still stood some six feet away from her.

  “Ann, inform me when Eugene arrives. And do change out of that blue gown. It does nothing for your sallow complexion.” With that, Heath’s mother turned on her heel and quit the room.

  They all stood in stunned silence for a moment. When Stevie was certain that she had given India time to make her way back to the east wing, she made her apologies. Head high, she walked from the room.

  “Excuse me . . .” Heath began.

  Kinsey restrained him. “Don’t, Heath. Give her some time alone.”

  The look of rage mingled with hurt on Heath’s face touched them all. Ever supportive, Emily patted his arm.

  “Stevie’s strong,” Kinsey continued. “It’ll take more than a snub from the old bat to do her any real harm. Besides, it wasn’t so bad. As I recall, she had me kidnapped. And I survived . . . and even married her son.”

  Rad chuckled flatly. “Just in case Mother’s up to her old tricks, we’ll all keep a close eye on Stevie.” It was a sad state of affairs, but they all realized Rad’s jest held some merit.

  Heath nodded and resumed his seat. But his attention was not on the conversation his quick-witted siblings batted back and forth as a means to regain some of the earlier joy that had characterized their reunion. His thoughts were upstairs with Stevie.

  He closed his eyes and dropped his head back on the chair. If Stevie needed proof that white society wouldn’t accept their marriage, that they would be persecuted for her ancestry, his own mother had just provided it.

  That evening, when Stevie joined the family in the parlor, she was not dressed in the lovely silk gown Ann had loaned her. During the afternoon she had decided that if she were to be accepted, it would be for who she really was.

  Proudly, she entered the room dressed in Gentle Fawn’s wedding gown, her platinum hair braided into one long, silken rope, tied at the end by a short length of rawhide, a beaded headband circling her forehead. Nestled between her breasts was the necklace containing a lock of her mother’s hair.

  As Heath approached her, she noted that he was impeccable in black evening wear. Love, pride, and masculine approval was shining in his sapphire eyes. She relaxed visibly. “I’m glad you changed. You look beautiful.” He hugged her affectionately and whispered into her hair, “Your mother and Gentle Fawn would be very proud.”

  The evening passed in a blur. The highlight for Stevie was when she met General Turner. The consummate gentleman, he had stood to his feet—albeit a bit unsteadily due to his ill health—bowed over her hand, then much as Rad had earlier, engulfed her in a bear hug.

  “Now I see why you spent so much time out west, son.” He squeezed Heath’s shoulder. “You’ve chosen well.”

  Those simple words pleased Heath and Stevie as no other.

  After the general’s sound endorsement of Stevie, Mrs. Turner sat quietly in her chair, aloof, sullen. The only time she spoke the entire evening was when she greeted Eugene Prickle.

  As for Ann, she ignored her lackluster fiance altogether. Until dessert, when she announced to her family—and Eugene—that she had no intention of marrying him, now or ever. It was immediately apparent that she had the unspoken but tangible support of the Turner men.

  Red-faced, Eugene informed Ann that he would give her time to reconsider, then left the house. Her mother cast her a fulminating glare and retired to her room without a word. Needless to say, the evening was over. As Ann predicted, Chap and Rad closeted themselves in the library with their father.

  Heath said he’d join them in a minute, after he escorted Stevie to her room. He was unusually quiet, she noticed. When they stood facing each other outside her door, he took both her hands in his own. “Hon, about Mother . . .” He trailed off.

  “There’s no need to talk about it. I understand. And it really doesn’t matter to me what she thinks.”

  “All the same, I must apologize for her.”

  She squeezed his hands. “Apology accepted.”

  He kissed her then, soundly, with an air of desperation. It was as if he were trying to convince her how much he loved her.

  She responded in kind. Despite what she said, she was hurt by his mother’s ill treatment. The feeling of insecurity that plagued her was foreign but understandable. She was far away from home, missing her children and her father, pregnant, and unmarried. She had definitely felt better in her life physically and emotionally. And was it any wonder?

  Heath sensed her need and sought to fill her with his love. He kissed her hungrily, his mouth open and giving. He thrust his tongue into her dark, sweet
cavern, over and over, mimicking what he wanted to do with his maleness.

  She was instantly caught up in his passion. Grinding her lower body against him, she stood on tiptoe and threaded her fingers through his hair.

  They were ravenous, starving for each other. For a time they indulged themselves. Heath skimmed her body with his hands. She was nude beneath the bleached animal skin, so he could feel every curve and crevice. Bunching the buckskin in his clenched fists, he raised the fringed hem to her upper thighs. Instinctively, he slipped his thigh between her legs.

  Moaning, she ran her hands across his shoulders, over his back, down his spine, flattening her palms over his tensing buttocks. She dropped her head back over his arm, giving him greater access to her throat. He trailed hot, wet kisses down the sleek column. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he lifted her until her soft, moist, skin rested on his thigh. She raised her head and gasped. Over Heath’s shoulder she saw Ann just inside a doorway, watching them, wide-eyed.

  Stevie had never moved as quickly in her life. She lurched backward, righted her dress, and placed her palms on Heath’s chest as if she were holding him off.

  He was lost in the throes of passion. The jolt back to reality momentarily stunned him.

  She raised a hand to his cheek. “Honey, your brothers and father are waiting for you downstairs.” His eyes were somewhat dazed. “What will they think if you’re gone too long?”

  “You’re right.” His voice was thick with unappeased desire. He blessed her with a smile that curled her toes inside her soft moccasins. “I could come back later.”

  Stevie wanted to groan at least, cry at most. Heath had set a fire in her that was raging out of control. But she had promised Ann. She couldn’t allow Heath to come back tonight. Maybe, after they got home, she could sneak into his room. “As much as I’m tempted, sweetheart”—she lowered her voice so Ann wouldn’t hear—“as much as I want you, I’m really exhausted. I fear I’ll be dead to the world as soon as my head hits the pillow.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. How thoughtless of me.”

  She could see that Heath was disappointed. When she opened her mouth to reassure him, he bent to kiss her again, this time tenderly. It moved her more than the passionate embrace they had exchanged earlier. He lifted his head and she dropped her lashes to hide the unfulfilled desire shining in her eyes.

  He touched her cheek gently. “I love you, sweetheart. Sleep well.”

  She nodded. “Good night.” Raising her gaze, she watched him as he walked away. Before he disappeared around the corner, she ran to him. “Heath, wait.”

  “I knew you couldn’t resist me.”

  She could see that he was teasing her. “I just wanted to say”—she lowered her voice—“I love you too.”

  His smile lit up her heart. Brushing her lips with a gentle kiss, he vowed his love again, then whispered, “Good night, sugar.”

  By the time she reached her room, Ann was standing outside the door, dressed in a man’s three-piece suit, holding her top hat, gloves, and cane with one arm. With the other she held a similar outfit for Stevie.

  Stevie blushed furiously.

  Ann actually laughed. “All I’ve got to say is you two had better hurry and get married” was her sage advise. “Mama says society frowns on babies born out of wedlock.”

  If only she knew . . .

  Leon, the young driver who had provided the gents’ clothing for Ann and Stevie, halted the carriage outside the gentlemen’s club. The street front was cluttered with expensive carriages drawn by blooded horseflesh, the owners spending a relaxing evening at their club.

  “Pull around the corner and wait for us,” Ann instructed. “We won’t be more than fifteen minutes. I just want to see what it’s like inside.”

  The boy regarded her worshipfully. “Before you’re leg-shackled to Eugene?”

  Arm tossed her head defiantly. “Over my dead body.”

  When Leon was out of sight, Ann and Stevie mounted the stairs. They never made it inside the club. Soaked handkerchiefs covered their noses and mouths as strong hands dragged them back down the steps into the discreet black carriage that awaited them.

  The last thing Stevie saw before she lost consciousness was a black eye patch.

  Fifty-one

  Sitting at the breakfast table, Heath dropped his head into his hands. His eyes were gritty from lack of sleep. His back ached; his legs throbbed. The heaping plate of eggs and crisp bacon under his nose made him queasy.

  He shoved his breakfast away forcefully and downed a brimming tumbler of whiskey. Stevie and Ann had been missing for five days now. The two women had disappeared without a trace. He, Chap, Rad, and half the law-enforcement agents in New York had been searching for them around the clock.

  Heath’s first thought when he discovered Stevie missing was that his mother’d relied on an old plan and had her kidnapped. The voice of reason, Chap had pointed out that Ann was gone too. No matter how hard their mother was, they doubted she would harm her own daughter, at least not physically.

  Unconvinced and crazed with worry, Heath had said some things to his mother that she would never forgive. But he couldn’t worry about that now. All he could think about was finding Stevie and Ann.

  Stevie had been so sick on the train. He kept picturing her in some dingy hole, sick, cold, starving. It was almost more than he could bear.

  Once he admitted to himself that his mother was not to blame, he decided that Judge Jack had kidnapped Ann and Stevie, undoubtedly to wreak vengeance of both him and Stevie. When he found the man—and he would find him—he would tear him apart with his own two hands. Hanging would be too good for him. The judge had gone beyond the barrier; he had dared to touch Stevie.

  If he lost her now—Heath couldn’t finish the thought.

  “Mr. Heath, can I have a word with you?”

  Heath raised red-rimmed eyes. He clenched his jaw and tried to maintain a shred of composure. “Leon, I don’t care to speak with you right now. I know I shouldn’t blame you, but if you hadn’t indulged Annie, she and Stevie might be safe at home.”

  “I don’t blame you a bit, sir. If I was you, I’d give me a strappin’.” The boy could see in Heath’s turbulent gaze that he was tempted to do just that. “But I might have some information that can help you find Miss Ann and your fiancée. I was talkin’ to my cousin that works down on the docks—”

  Heath surged to his feet, grabbed Leon’s arm, and propelled him from the breakfast room. “You can tell me on the way.”

  When they reached the foyer, they ran into an unexpected confrontation. Smithers was instructing two of the footmen to physically remove a dark-haired young man from the premises. The stranger was mad as hell.

  Chap and Rad entered the hallway, coming to investigate the ruckus; their wives were right behind them. The general stood at the top of the stairs. Everyone seemed to be shouting at once.

  Heath didn’t give a damn what the man was doing there, didn’t care if he burned Turner House to the ground. He just wanted to get past him and go find Stevie and Ann. The young man pointed at Heath and called over his shoulder, “Is that him?”

  The soft answer in the affirmative was lost in the din. The stranger called Heath an unpleasant name and lunged for him, catching him around the middle. They crashed to the floor.

  Heath banged his head on the polished marble. The room faded out of focus. He raised his gaze to the man sitting on his chest. He looked vaguely familiar. But he shrugged off the thought. From somewhere deep inside him Heath knew he had to get to Stevie. He feared that if he didn’t find her soon, it would be too late. Desperate, he struggled to remove the man sprawled atop him.

  Heath’s assailant was big and strong. His strength almost superhuman, fueled by anger and righteous indignation. Heath fought just as hard, from desperation. They were an even match. It took both of the footmen, Smithers, and Rad and Chap to pull the combatants apart. Under the general’s supervision, of course.


  When General Turner thundered for quiet, miraculously everyone obeyed. He turned toward the intruder. “Now, young man, what in hell has made you so mad that you would invade my home and attack my son?”

  He spat at Heath’s feet. “That son of a bitch got my sister pregnant and kidnapped her. Without marrying her.”

  “Jeff Johns, I presume,” Heath hazarded. No wonder he looked familiar. Heath gasped suddenly. “Did you say pregnant?” He looked at Chap for confirmation. Chap nodded. “Oh, God,” Heath uttered, wiping blood from his face with the back of his hand.

  Blue wound her way through the gaping crowd and stepped up to Jeff’s side. She grabbed his arm roughly. “You idiot. Heath wouldn’t hurt Stevie.” She turned pleading eyes on Heath. “I tried to tell him. So did Pilar and Sandy. But he just went off half cocked.”

  Jeff shot her an exasperated look. “I want to see my sister. Now! I’ll believe it only from her.”

  “I’m afraid that won’t be possible, son,” the general said.

  Heath turned toward his father. “It will soon.” He pushed Leon forward and called back to Jeff. “You can beat the hell out of me later if you want. Right now I’m going after Stevie.”

  Jeff jerked a nod. “I can wait. I’m going with you.”

  Just then Jay sauntered through the front door. Heath looked as if he were expecting him. “We goin’ after the judge?”

  “That’s the plan,” Heath said, leading the way.

  Rad and Chap followed Heath, Jeff, and Jay. As they rode down the street, it occurred to Blue that the men looked like a bloodthirsty posse on the chase.

  That’s exactly what they were.

  Eugene entered the warehouse, waving a marriage license over his head triumphantly. “I finally got it.” It was what they had been waiting for, risking capture for, the license that would make his marriage to Ann legal. It had taken some time to grease the right palms. But as Judge Jack assured Eugene, just about anything could be had if the price was right.